#was shitty etc’ which it was and it was also the reason why I hadn’t done so well in some classes but the teachers were very nice and

[natasha-barton]

Best thing ever is when you think you fucked up on an exam but then it turns out you actually did really well . It’s a joy I can’t describe

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 9k

summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

warnings: joel is bi in this, sex toys, paddles, nipple clamps, pillow humping, self-spanking, female/male masturbation, piv, dirty talking, possesive!joel, cum eating, oral (female receiving), size kink

additional warning: alright so there is a short moment in this where reader smacks herself with a paddle that has a heart-shaped hole and gets a heart mark on her skin, I don't use any descriptions (like calling it red or pink etc) but I'm also not oblivious enough to think everyone would get a mark when getting spanked so I wanted to let you know in case that would put you off and wouldn't want to read and that's completely fine!

a/n: this definitely ended up being longer then it needed it to be bfgbfg I want to take the anon who requested this, and the rest of you who chimed in and voted on the polls. I hope you all enjoy 💜 oh, also a special thanks to @missredherring who gave the idea of a more in-depth reason as to why Joel likes honeysuckle flowers 👀

edit!!! this has more than one part now! click here for the masterlist

Joel was lonely. 

He hadn’t really thought about it until Sarah went off to college. 

Since the day she was born, he had one thing and one thing on his mind only—to give his little girl everything that he could and make her happy. The rest didn’t concern him. He didn’t really care about dating, he didn’t have the time to think about how lonely he was. He had been on a couple of dates, all of which were initiated by Sarah as she entered her teenage years, pleading with him to go out and have a life.

But now that she was gone, studying what she always wanted to study and being happy, the emptiness began to spread like a nasty infection. Every creak and groan of the house sounded like mockery to him. He started keeping the TV open all night, most of the time falling asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night startled by sudden shouts from a randomly playing film or show. He hated it. This wasn’t how Joel imagined his golden years to be like. 

Maybe that’s why he decided to use the damn website. Ravish. He’d heard it from Tommy first —which was an uncomfortable conversation as one could imagine— and after that, he kept on hearing the name. 

Ravish 

Ravish 

Ravish 

It was like a shitty pop song, stuck between his teeth like toffee, impossible to get rid of. The name made a home in his brain, making its presence known whenever he was doing anything, no matter how mundane the task was. 

Ultimately, he gave in. What was the worst that could happen? 

Joel groans. He stares at the screen with his brows drawn tightly together, the text cursor blinking as it waits for him to type out a username. It’s been almost ten minutes. A brief thought of asking Tommy passes through his mind but he quickly pushes the thought away and leans over the keyboard. 

JMiller. That should be alright. He doesn’t need anything fancy, and J can be any name. It can be Jack, Jacob, Jonathan, John, Jeremy. There are a bunch. Besides, Miller is a pretty common last name, so if someone asks if he's JMiller, he can just deny it. Not that anyone would. Everyone would be too busy jerking off to pretty people. The last thought anyone would have would be of him. 

He quickly decides on his password and he’s immediately overwhelmed. There are too many things happening at once. His eyes widen, heart beating a bit too fast as he moves his mouse around. In the corner, there’s a little pop-up begging for his attention, and on the screen, there are multiple thumbnails of women and men. When he drags his mouse over a thumbnail it starts moving and he jumps. 

“Holy hell,” he mutters. “I’m in way over my head.” 

Joel gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After that, he sits on the couch again and takes three deep breaths. The ice clicks together as he takes a swig, the amber liquid pleasantly burning as it goes down his throat. He looks around some more, looking for the profiles that pique his interest the most. 

While he scrolls, he sees one of a man with the username NicolasCageFreak, which he finds odd, but the man is pleasing to the eye with soft brown curls and natural honey highlights in between. The man has a small bullet vibrator pressed against his hard length, a cock ring at the base of it. Joel presses like and saves it for later. 

Joel has to remind himself a couple of times that the people who stream can’t actually see him. The more he scrolls the more relaxed he feels. There’s a woman with pretty green eyes he saves for later and another man with the username CammingBravo. He has his face hidden, Joel can see the red ribbon circling the back of his head as he bends over, granting the viewers a delicious sight of his ass that has a shiny buttplug. 

Liked! Added to your queue for later.

Until now Joel was fairly certain he was straight, sometimes he’d get the occasional same-sex dream but he figured everyone did at some point in their lives. He’s not so sure anymore. 

Some more scrolling and Joel starts getting restless. His cock strains against his sweatpants, aching for his rough touch. He takes a deep breath. The next live stream he sees that he likes he’ll click and that will be that. He’s starting to get worked up and, unlike NicolasCageFreak, he’s not a fan of edging himself. 

Then he sees her. A woman wearing a delicate chain vest with rhinestones that sparkle whenever she moves. His eyes flit to the username; Honeysuckle. He loves that flower, he has many memories of picking them with Tommy and sucking the sweet nectar hidden inside. He wonders if she tastes just as sweet. 

Not one to break a promise to himself, Joel clicks on the thumbnail. His eyes are instantly drawn to the live chat. There are so many people asking her to do something all at once—Jesus Christ. There are also a couple of them just chatting as if they were friends with her. He sees that everyone calls her Honey, which is fitting and a bit on the nose, he thinks. 

Noticing that he has the stream muted, Joel unmutes it, a pleasant tingle running down his spine as soon as her voice comes through the speakers of his laptop. 

“Wow, Eric47 I’m so happy you got that promotion!” 

“Don’t worry everyone, I’ve been thinking naughty thoughts all day and I’m ready to put on a show.” 

“Patience everyone.” 

“Thank you for buying a private chat, SarahBelieves! I can’t wait to be your good girl. . .” 

Joel is too focused on her tone, the smooth lilt of her voice, to hear the words she’s saying. The only thing his ears pick up on is the words private and chat. He wasn’t aware you could buy some extra time with the streamers. He loves that—

He shakes his head. Loves? Is he already planning on paying? At the thought, his cock twitches with interest, his reserve quickly crumbling to the floor. 

Joel decides to focus on the stream first. He can decide later on if he wants a private session or not. He cups himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, groaning as a spike of relief shoots through him. His eyes are glued to the screen. Honey’s hard nipples poke through the chains, her hands delicately kneading the tender mounds as she rises slightly by lifting herself onto her knees. She’s on a bed, wearing black panties and a matching garter. Joel’s mouth waters. The things he would do to her. . . 

His tongue pokes from between his lips, soft tendon moving with muscle memory as he thinks of eating her sweet cunt out. 

“Today my sweet bees,” she addresses them. “I was thinking of fucking myself with the biggest dildo I’ve got, how does that sound?” 

Joel’s eyes drift to the chat. Everyone seems to be cheering and asking her to show them how much she can take. There’s also a bunch of them calling her their favorite size queen. She chuckles. 

“I love all dicks, in any shape or form,” she purrs. “I’m just in the mood for a bit of pain.” 

Pain. That captures Joel’s attention. It makes him curious about all the other things she might be into. Perhaps she enjoys getting spanked, or she would enjoy the feeling of someone dragging their nails down her pretty back. He wants to know. He wants his imaginary scenarios to be as accurate as possible. 

He’s about to pull out his cock when he hears her voice again. 

“I do have one question though,” she says innocently. “Should I keep these pretty black panties on or off?” she grins into the camera, her eyes shining with mirth. “Let’s see those answers, my bees.” 

What do you want? Joel wants to ask. But this isn’t that kind of scenario so he thinks. The answers come flying in, there’s a fifty-fifty ratio. Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. He wants her to keep them on. He likes the idea of her sliding them to the side and fucking herself deep, it feels more animalistic, more raw. He enjoys the idea of claiming someone, a curiosity he hasn’t yet fully explored yet. 

He types exactly that. His wording and grammar a bit too neat compared to the rest, but he gives Honey his answer. He wants her to keep it on. Maybe play with herself some more until the fabric is basically see-through, then she can fuck herself with the biggest cock she’s got. 

Joel watches intently as her eyes go over the live chat, there are so many answers coming in, he doubts she’ll see his comment. Still, he likes to believe she’ll see it. 

Honey’s eyes still briefly, hunger swirling in them as a canine sinks into her bottom lip. Her smile is bashful and shy, much different than the character she’s playing. Her eyes move back to the camera. Joel watches her breasts as her chest heaves, nipples grazing against the cool metal. 

“Well, well, JMiller. . . you certainly have a mouth on you,” she tuts and Joel’s eyes go wide. The satisfaction he feels leads to goosebumps coursing over his burning skin, being noticed. . . it’s surprisingly thrilling. “Are you new? I haven’t seen your handle before.” 

Joel swallows, his hands shaking as he types in a quick “yea”, Honey smiles, “Welcome to the hive then, baby. Keep the comments up,” she sighs, cupping both her tits. “I love a man who knows how to dirty talk.” 

A knot forms in his throat, his skin tight. He wasn’t expecting to be this affected. Now he understands why so many people enjoy live streams. They don’t see you, not actually, but still, it almost fills the void. Almost. He’s excited now, eager to type in more of his thoughts, eager to hear her answer him. Joel pulls out his cock, the waistband of his sweats hugging his thighs. He gives himself a firm tug, his spine straightening at the burn gathering in his lower stomach. It feels fucking good. 

“Since it’s J’s first time, and because he got me all hot and bothered, why not leave the panties on for this time?” Honey says. Joel observes the chat, there are a lot of congratulatory messages addressed to him, welcoming him. He doesn’t care. “You want to see these panties soaked, huh? You guys know how much I love making a mess.” 

Honey shimmies back, revealing more of her bare legs. She spreads them for the camera, the soft sound of delicate metal filling the air whenever she moves. Her fingers start to move lazily over her clothed clit, her head falls. Joel can see a subtle dark patch growing, his own hand starting to move slowly up and down his throbbing cock. A drop of precum dribbles down, easing the glide of his rough palm. She doesn’t look at the chat as frequently as she did before, too focused on her pleasure. Her glossy lips part and her eyes scrunch up. Her moans are loud and breathy, signs that she lives alone. 

Joel doesn’t think as he fists himself. Normally when watching porn he would think; he would think of a scenario, or what he would be doing differently, or the things he would want to do. This is different. He’s just watching, inhaling what’s being given to him. He sucks a sharp breath, his hand moving faster, the side of his fist smacking against his pelvis, dark curls damp under his palm. 

“Fuck,” Honey moans, eyes peering toward the screen. Her fingers move faster, her hips grinding to meet the graze of her palm. Joel groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “I think I’m going to come,” he breathes out. “Should I?” 

Joel doesn’t bother with typing until he hears his alias. 

“JMiller, since you’re new the decision is yours. Should I? P-Please answer,” she sounds desperate, her hips rutting the air as she presses her fingers hard against her clit. “O-Or do you want me to come on your cock?” 

Joel’s hips stutter, filling the tightness of his fist, “Fuckin’ hell.” 

With sticky fingers he types his answer, telling her that she should come with his cock deep inside her. Joel also adds that he wants to hear her, telling her to be loud. 

“O-Okay,” she whines, almost tearful as she reaches to grab her dildo off-screen. Joel can’t help the grin that makes its way across his face. He types again, telling her not to cry and that she’ll be coming soon enough. When he presses enter, he notices that his name is highlighted in dark orange. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she answers playfully. “I like that.” 

You're the buzzing heartbeat of Honeysuckle’s live stream! You are picked by the streamer as the treasured Drone Bee, your unwavering loyalty and vibrant energy create an electrifying atmosphere. Your presence is a key ingredient in making the honey even sweeter! 

A growl echoes in his throat when Honey shows the camera the dildo she had picked out. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was her biggest. It’s bigger than his own dick, and Joel is by no means a small man. He squeezes his cock and looks down, with a sudden need growing in his chest, he purses his lips and lets a long trail of saliva drip between his lips. He shudders when it reaches the head of his cock. He swipes his palm over it and continues to stroke himself, he wants to come. 

He wants them to come at the same time. 

Honey pushes the dildo in slowly, giving her viewers a clear sight of what’s happening. The toy stretches her wide, the ache of it pulling a gasp from her pretty lips. Joel breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as his hand speeds up. 

Oh, how he would love to be the one fucking slowly into her, to hear those little gasps coming from her in person rather than his shitty speakers. He holds his breath. It’s buried fully inside of her now. She slowly looks down, her eyes looking directly into the camera. 

“I hope the view down there is good,” she says with a smirk. Joel doesn’t type anything. He focuses on the way his cock drools for her, aches to be buried in her cunt. Honey pulls out the toy until it’s only the tip that’s inside and then shoves it all in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her voice unfiltered. Joel’s stomach jumps at the sound, his pupils dilating like a wolf seeing its prey for the first time. 

She fucks herself hard, whimpering and crying out every time she fuck herself deep. Joel sees the way the plastic surface shines with her slick, he bets she tastes fucking sweet. 

He knows she’s close when her thighs begin to shake—he also knows thanks to the live chat going completely berserk, cheering her on and telling her to squirt. Joel, despite her own release close enough that he can taste it, rolls his eyes. 

“This one is for you JMiller,” she whimpers and Joel’s eyes go wide, his cock pulsing in his wet fist. “Hope you’re gonna fall down the edge with me, big guy.”  

Joel doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she’s coming—she does so with a loud moan, her cunt fluttering around the large cock. Her head falls back completely, giving a clear view of her heaving chest, nipples fully erect under the see-through armor. 

His fall from grace is less pretty. He lets out a grunt, his hips fucking into his hand helplessly as come spurts from the slit, it’s almost painful. His heart beats aggressively while he tries hard to keep his focus on the screen, he doesn’t want to miss anything. Joel makes a mess of himself and his surroundings, the rug underneath his socked feet stained with his release. 

 Joel’s cock stops throbbing and with a pleased sigh, his shoulders drop. 

“That felt fuckin’ goood,” he groans, staring blankly at the ongoing live stream. Vaguely he notices Honey pulling the toy out, an equally fucked out expression on her face. The live chat is still going wild, he manages to lean over and type in one last sentence before going offline. 

Good girl. 

Joel is a weak weak man. 

Watching Honey quickly became a routine for him. She would start streaming around the same time he would come back from work and it was the perfect way to let off some steam. Tommy had asked if he checked out Ravish, to which Joel promptly said no. He didn’t need his baby brother making fun of him. 

Besides, some primal part of him didn’t want Tommy to know about Honey. It’s an odd thought, he realizes, since she’s enjoyed by many many people. Still, he didn’t have an explanation for what he was feeling. 

Once she had brought in a guest, and his body had immediately rejected it. He was ready to close the stream and head to the bathroom for a quick shower—however, he stopped when he noticed who the guest was; CammingBravo. Another streamer who had caught Joel’s attention when he was scrolling through the endless amount of entertainers for the first time. He watched Honey eat out his tight little asshole, then he watched Bravo fuck her senseless, making her soak the sheets. 

Joel never came that hard in his life before— It was exhilarating. He tipped handsomely that night and Honey mentioned how JMiller was one of her best viewers. Bravo’s smile, which was surprisingly kind, was infectious. 

He would be lying if he said his chest didn’t puff up a little. 

And, of course, he ended up buying a private chat with her after that. He just had to. It would just be this one time, he told himself, just one hour without the live chat. Just him and her. 

He turns on the laptop, already knowing that he’s kidding himself. There’s no way this will be a one-time thing. He’s too. . . smitten to leave it with one private chat. 

Maybe he can limit himself to once a month. That seems reasonable. 

The familiar website of Ravish loads and he clicks on the little gray person in the corner. He finds the section that’s titled “private chats” and clicks. Her username, Honeysuckle, pops up. On the screen, it says she’ll be with him shortly. 

A minute later the screen goes black and her face comes into view. She’s wearing a pink see-through bra with strawberries on it, Honey’s smile is bright as she looks into the camera.  

“Hi there J!” she greets him, his stomach warms at the sound of her voice. “This is your first time doing a live chat right?” 

He nods absent-mindedly while typing. Honey reads his answer and gives him an empathetic look. 

“Okay, so you don’t have to show your face—obviously—but if you want you can click the tiny microphone in the corner and talk to me directly. But if that’s also too much you can continue to type what you want me to do.” 

Joel’s eyebrows raise. Talk to her. . . with his actual voice? The thought both excites and sends cold fear down his spine. What would he even say? What if she doesn’t like the sound of his voice? 

“Are you there?” her voice comes through. “Is everything alright?” 

His fingers tense and rigid, Joel types in the questions that swirl in his head. Luckily the questions sound cheeky without any tone indicators so Honey smiles, her eyes narrowing while her lips curl seductively. 

“You can say anything you want, big boy,” she licks her lips. “And don’t worry about your voice, I’m yours for the hour. You might as well have the most shrill voice in the world, I would still tell you how sexy you sound.” 

You always call me that. Why?  . . .  Also, it doesn’t make me feel any better when you say you’ll tell me how good I sound regardless but I get what you mean. 

Joel aggressively chews the smooth inside of his cheek. Honey reads his messages, a grin stretching across her beautiful face, “Let’s just say streamer’s intuition,” she winks. “As for the other thing, I mean that you don’t need to worry. I doubt you have the most shrill voice in the world.”  she thinks over her words before adding. “Of course, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to use voice chat that’s completely fine.” 

 Joel sighs, his curser hovering over the tiny microphone. Closing his eyes, he clicks. 

“Can—Can you hear me?” 

Her eyes sparkle. 

“Crystal clear,” she answers with a wide smile. “You sound hot.” 

She sounds genuinely impressed. Joel can’t help but chuckle with the shake of his head. “Don’t sound so surprised but thanks, I think?” 

“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” she says rolling her tongue. “Is there anything you want me to call you or should I just call you J?” 

There’s a brief moment where he thinks of just telling her his name but he bites his tongue at the very last moment. His heart does a little jump when he answers, “You can call me. . . sir.” 

“Understood, sir,” she repeats, her voice dripping with lust. A shudder crawls up his spine and he has to brace himself by holding his knees. “There is also a matter of safewords, I don’t do everything as I’m sure you don’t as well. Red is for stop, yellow is for slow down and green is for go. I think that’s the simplest one but if you want to use a different word I’m okay with that.” 

Joel blinks before answering, “Uh, yeah sounds good.” 

“Also the website doesn’t allow screen recordings—which I appreciate— so you can’t film these sessions in any way. I’m just letting you know because no one reads the terms of service and one client was very unhappy when he got a cease and desist.”

“I. . . okay, I wouldn’t even think of it.” 

She smiles and Joel’s heart feels a bit lighter, “Good,” with the rules established, a sense of relaxation washed over both of them. “So, do you have anything planned for me?” 

Joel clears his throat as a warning and her eyes glimmer with amusement. 

“Sorry,” she breathes heavily. “Did you have anything planned for me, sir?” 

“Would you laugh if I said no?” 

“Sir, I would never laugh at you,” she pouts, brows turning upward. Momentarily she looks off screen and when her eyes find the lens again she smiles giddily.  “Would you want me to show you the toys I think you’ll like?” 

Joel smiles at how genuinely excited she sounds, it’s hard to remind himself that this is all an act and that this is her job. He wants this to be real. He wants her to actually be excited to show him all the things she wants him to use. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he answers not missing the way her lips part with a soft gasp. “Show me what you got.” 

Honey shows him a handful of her toys. She has a lot. Dildos of various sizes, vibrators, nipple clamps, kegel balls, anal plugs, anal beads, floggers, collars, paddles. . . she might as well have an entire sex shop in her room. Joel takes mental notes of all of them to use during their next sessions.  

“Anything that you like, sir?” 

“The paddle,” he murmurs, feeling a bit flustered now that they’re actually getting into it. “The one with the heart-shaped hole and. . . the nipple clamps—” 

“The heart-shaped ones?” 

Joel swallows thickly, “Y—Yeah.” 

“No need to be shy, sir,” she grins. “It’s only you and me.” Honey picks out the toys Joel requested and raises an eyebrow while her gaze searches the pile. “So, no dildos? Or vibrators?” 

“I . . . had somethin’ else in mind, if that’s alright.” 

“Ohhhh, a mystery,” she purrs, winking into the camera. “I love it, sir.” 

Honey is slow to rid herself of her bra, sliding one arm out and then the other before moving both hands to the back to unclasp herself free of the dainty fabric. Her chest nears the camera, giving him a full view of her fully erect nipples. Joel’s breathing grows heavier by the second. He can feel his cock stiffen, pleasure stirring in his gut. He quickly kicks off his shorts, leaving himself bare on the couch as he watches her secure the clamps over each nipple. She lets out a tiny sigh of bliss, pulling her arms back and planting her palms firmly against the mattress, she shows her newly decorated nipples. 

Joel groans and wraps his hand around his cock. She does a little wiggle, the soft sound of bells making his cock twitch. 

“Are you touching yourself, sir?” 

“Yea.” 

“Good, I want to hear you get off,” she quickly adds. “Sir.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” his eyes flutter closed as his fist moves down, and he opens them back up after giving himself a firm squeeze. “Turn around,” he grunts. “And don’t forget the paddle.” 

She does as she’s told, which in return gives Joel an immense sense of control and satisfaction. Precome drips down his length, he uses it to lube himself further, paying extra attention to be loud for her. Just like she wanted. 

His eyes follow the movement of the paddle, she drags it over the right cheek of her ass, caressing her skin. Her panties disappear between the crease of her gorgeous ass, leaving little to the imagination. “Is this okay, sir?” she asks, her voice thick. “Am I being a good girl?” 

Goosebumps rise over his skin. He’d called her, wrote to her, good girl after every stream—his smirk is laced with something dark when he realizes that she must’ve enjoyed it. 

“You’re being very good,” he answers. “Now hit yourself with it, I want to see a heart tattooed on that pretty flesh of yours.” 

“Southern man into branding, why am I not surprised?” she purrs and lifts her ass closer the camera. “You like seeing your pretty girl all marked up by her owner?” 

Fuck. 

“Don’t get full of yourself,” he orders, adding a bit more venomous tone to his voice. Honey stills, and briefly Joel worries he’d overstep. He stops breathing, not wanting to miss even the smallest hint of the safeword. 

But then she shudders, hitting herself lightly with the paddle. “How’s this, sir?” she says, her lilt indicating that she’s highly aware it isn’t enough. 

“Harder.” 

She spanks herself harder, her body jolting. Joel can hear the bells. He circles the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, groaning as he makes himself more comfortable on the couch. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re listenin’,” he inhales slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tense. “I want to see those hearts on your skin. I thought this was supposed to be a show.” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

He loves how breathy her voice has gotten. Heat licks the base of his spine, his cock begging for release. 

She raises the paddle, smacking her plump meat much harder than before. Her asscheek ripples and Joel can finally see a faint trace of a shape. But it’s not clear enough to be a decent heart. “Again,” he orders. 

It takes about six to nine times before the heart takes shape on her skin. She’s whimpering, tremors moving up and down her body as she fights the urge to collapse. She loves seeing his mark there, she might’ve placed herself, but it was his doing and he revels in it. 

“Good,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Lookin’ so pretty for me.” 

“S-Sir,” she mutters. Joel doesn’t know what to expect until her hand comes between her legs, sliding the thin line of her panties to the side. Her cunt is a sopping mess. Joel leans further towards the screen, his tongue licking the roof of his mouth. “Do you see how wet I am? P-Please, I want to come—Can I, sir?” 

“Fuck, ‘course you can,” his neck feels warm, burning almost. “Turn around, grab one of them pillows behind you.” 

“P-Pillow?” 

She sounds dazed, Joel almost feels bad for her, almost. “Yes sweetheart, pillow,” he coos. “I want you to grind that pretty cunt against it. . . honey.” 

“Shit, say that again.” 

“Honey,” he groans again, his hips thrusting into the air, burying himself deep into his fist. His voice drops further as he begins to chant, “Honey, honey, honey, honey—” 

She visibly clenches at that, her entire body tight with arousal. With shaky hands, she brings the pillow between her thighs, straddling the soft cushion. Her head falls back as she gives it an experimental roll of her hips, Joel’s breath catches in his throat. She looks delectable. Her hands come up to her chest and tugs at the clamps, she jumps, a wanton moan echoing from the back of her throat. 

“You’re so worked up aren’t you?” Joel continues as she grinds herself further down, leaving a wet, darkened patch behind. He’s preaching to the choir. His own arousal drooling over his knuckles. He closes his eyes, allowing his mouth to roam free. “Stuff three fingers in your mouth, want you to choke darlin’.” 

With a whine, she nods and pushes three fingers between her lips. Joel smirks, “It ain’t nearly enough but at least you can get a feelin’ of how much my cock would stretch those pretty lips, honey,” he rasps. She shudders, her hips moving wildly over the pillow. “You love havin’ your mouth full don’t you?” 

“Yesh, sur,” she moans around her own fingers, she move acutely, and with every jerk of her hips, Joel can see her throbbing clit. He’s teetering on the edge of his release, heat pools between his legs, his balls go tight. 

“I’m gonna come, honey,” he groans, his tight shaking. “Come with me, show me how wet your get that pillow.” 

With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she loudly gulps around her fingers, giving Joel a clear few of her cunt before rolling her hips down against the smooth surface. His eyes go wide and before his brain can register the coil snapping, he spills over his hand. Heavy strings of come dripping down his hard throbbing length. He makes a choked sound as he tries to breathe in and out at the same time. Honey pulls out her fingers from her mouth and grins, her hands drop in front of her and she bounces up and down, mimicking the way she would ride him. 

The action manages to squeeze one last rope of come from him, his lungs collapse, his body burning. She comes right after, her thighs squeezing around each side of the pillow before gushing around it. Joel can see the shine as she continues to grind her hips. 

“Show me,” he pants, his next words quickly shifting into a growl. “Show it to me.” 

Licking her lips, Honey pulls the pillow from between her legs and shows it to him. His cock twitches with interest. “Wanna taste you,” he says without thinking. 

“Sadly technology hasn’t improved that much yet,” she answers. “But I’ll tell you this much,” she leans in and flattens her tongue against the soaked fabric. Joel’s jaw tightens, his molars digging together painfully. She moans. “I taste sweet. Like honey.” 

You hate visiting home. 

You hate the heat, the crowd, staying at a home where you’re still treated like a child when you haven’t been one for a long long time. But you didn't really have a choice when your dad hurt his leg, which meant that you had to help around with the tiny bookshop your family owned. It was a miracle that it was still standing, but people did love their old, dusty bookshops. You had to admit, you enjoyed the aura of the place.

Your mom had asked you to bring over two coffees before coming in, she opened up shop early which you were grateful for. Now that you were home, you didn’t have the luxury to do as many private calls as you wanted to. You still streamed late at night, keeping silent, your audience didn’t mind. They thoroughly enjoyed the whispering and the “we can’t be caught” act. You only indulged in one private session, a session that you couldn’t bare letting go of. 

JMiller. 

You thought a lot about what his real name might be. Jacob, Jeff, Jeremy. . . none of them felt right. It was disappointing because you wanted to scream his name when you had your hand between your legs. But since you couldn’t decide on a name, you whimpered a string of sirs over and over again. 

You eagerly counted down the hours until you could finally spend time with him. This was a funny thought on its own because you boasted about how professional you were. You kept things clear, not allowing for any miscommunication or—potentially—feelings. But there was just something about him that got your entire body yearning to hear his southern drawl. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all. You did grow up in Austin after all. But still. It was odd how excited you got before going online. 

You briefly mentioned you were going back home, you didn’t tell him where, obviously, but you did tell him that there could be scheduling issues. He understood. 

Of course he did, he was perfect. 

Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you impatiently drum your foot against the clean marble floors. This line is insane. You let out a groan, sending your mother a quick text that it might take you a while. A second later your phone buzzes with a thumbs-up emoji from her. You sigh again as you shove the phone down your back pocket, you hate waiting, it gets you anxious and even though you don’t have a boss that will yell at you, you don’t enjoy being late. 

Then, as if he popped out of the concrete like a weed, a man pushes himself between you and the other person that was waiting in line in front of you. 

Your heart races, your eyebrows knitting together, no way in hell are you going to allow someone to cut in line. 

“Hey,” you call out. The man ignores you and you tap his shoulder, he turns sharply, his eyes glaring daggers. “You can’t cut in line,” you say defensively. “You need to move to the back of the line.” 

“Look lady I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about I was always here.” 

“Ummmm, no you weren’t,” your chest heaves, heat rising to your cheeks. You don’t like confrontation—you’d do it, but you’d hate it. Your legs are already shaking slightly. “I’ve been staring at the pink paint stain on that guy’s shoulder for about half an hour so I know what I’m talking about.” 

He rolls his eyes, an ugly snarl taking shape, “Just leave it. I ain’t gonna budge. I have places to be.” 

“And the rest of us don’t?” you snort, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, makes a face, and turns his back to you once again. It takes you everything not to stomp your foot like an angry bull. 

You’ve had enough. You’re tired of the assholes of the word, you don’t care if you’re not allowed into the coffee shop ever again. Puffing up your chest, you open your mouth wide, ready to give this rude stranger a piece of your unfiltered mind. 

“You know what—” 

“Is that any way to treat a lady, moonshine?”  

You turn towards the source of the voice. It’s a man you’ve never seen before. He’s rugged looking, the salt and pepper in his beard endearing. He has a deep crease between his brows, his brown eyes dark as he stares down at the rude stranger. You take in the sight of his broad shoulders, thick neck—your heart does a little flip. You don’t know why but you’re drawn to the man, he has a nice voice. 

The man, however, isn’t as pleased as you. 

“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend?” 

You’re not but you kinda wish you were. 

“Get in the back of the line, I saw you cut in front of her.” 

The tension in the air is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, your lungs starting to burn as electricity crackles between the two men. Finally the asshole caves and sighs, going to the back of the line. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, your shoulders sagging with relief right after. 

“Thank you,” you say, your gaze finding the kind strangers. “I was right about to blow my lid before you stepped in.” 

He doesn’t answer and just continues to stare at you. Worry builds in your spine. Why isn’t he saying anything? His softened gaze flits across your face, taking in every detail before looking away. He pushes his hands down his pockets, looking almost boyish with the way he drops his gaze to the floor. 

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters. 

You raise an eyebrow. His voice still sounds familiar. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you shove the thoughts of familiarity into the back of your head and grace him with a wide smile. He blushes profusely, eyes slightly going wide, he takes a sharp inhale. 

“How about I pay for your coffee. . . or whatever you’re buying?” you ask. 

“You don’t have—” 

“I insist!” you chirp, glad that the line is finally moving. You extend your hand with enthusiasm, which he accepts a bit tentatively. Your smile never wavering, you tell him your name and an emotion akin to guilt washes over his eyes. He releases your hand, lips a tight, frigid line. “Is something wrong?” you ask. “You don’t like the name?” 

“N–No, it ain’t that,” he shifts from one leg to the other. You nearly look down, curious to see how tightly his jeans hug his muscular thighs. “I’m. . . Joel.” 

The world around you falls into a complete silence. Joel. Joel. Something electric and searing shoots up your spine, your lashes fluttering. Your heart starts beating a mile a minute but you’re not sure why. The only thing you do know is that this is a significant moment. An important moment. 

Your rake your brain for answers. 

Why? 

Why is it important? What piece are you missing to complete the puzzle? 

His lips break into a soft smile, he gestures towards the counter with his head. “We’re up.” 

“O-Oh, yeah,” you swallow, barely able to pull your gaze away from him. “Sorry.” 

You tell the kind barista your order and she writes it down on both your cups happily. The two of you move away from the line to wait for your drinks; a black coffee for your mom, a caramel macchiato for you, and an iced quad espresso for Joel. You raise an eyebrow. 

“I have a long day comin’,” he says with a small smile. “And I didn’t do much sleepin’ last night.” 

Your mind immediately flashes you memories of last night. Legs spread wide with two dildos stretching you, JMiller really enjoys it when you test your limits. Your pulse pounding in your skull, you look down. “Don’t I know it.” 

“You had a late night too?” there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Your stomach churns and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It looks like he’s about to say something else but the barista calls your name and both of you head towards the counter. He takes his death juice with a grateful smile, his demeanor more relaxed compared to when you introduced yourself.

“Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.” 

Oh shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

It is him. 

JMiller—J stands for Joel. 

Fuck. 

“You. . .” you begin, panic raising in your voice. “You’re. . .” 

He nods, “I think we both know why I didn’t sleep much last night,” he extends his hand again. “Huge fan by the way. You’re great and this is awkward as hell.” 

“It is,” you whisper. Still, you take his hand. “It is.” 

“You’ve never had someone come up to you on the street before?” he asks, curious. “I would assume you get recognized a lot.” 

“Not as much as you would think,” a cruel, humorless burst of laughter drops from your lips. “People don’t exactly want their partners to know they’re watching me. But if they’re alone yeah. . . sometimes they’ll say hi.” 

Or they’ll ask inappropriate questions and be weird about it but he doesn’t have to know that. 

Now that he’s mentioned you bumping into others, you’re not sure why it felt like the end of the world before. You feel embarrassed, flustered even, two emotions that a client shouldn’t be making you feel. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence, moving his jaw as he opens the door for you. “Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Technically you bought it.” 

“Right. . .” 

The two of you are out in the street now, staring at each other, contemplating what to say. He scratches the back of his head, then his fingers move to rub at his jaw. Arousal gathers between your thighs, it’s not your fault, now that you know that it’s him, your body acts accordingly. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” 

You still for a moment before answering, “Yeah.” 

He turns and leaves, you do the same, only in the opposite direction. 

After learning your name, Joel completely abandoned his rule of you calling him 'sir', making you moan his actual name as frequently as he could. His name stuck to your tongue. It might as well have been tattooed under your bottom lip. He was possessive in the way he asked, in some instances even begging for you to say it—and you fucking loved it. You loved this sick claim he had towards you now that you two had officially met. You loved how much more eager he was to see you make a sticky mess between your thighs. You love how cock dumb he made you feel without actually being there to fuck you himself. 

He even started doing his version of online aftercare. Mostly he would just talk, tell you about every-day things as you came down from your high. Or he would murmur a song. You never asked if he was a musician, he had a nice voice. 

It’s the beginning of the session and you’re getting ready. He says he enjoys watching the preparation you do for him so you decided to start streaming five minutes earlier, allowing him to watch. You really need him today. You had a rough day with an order mix-up, and your mom isn’t the best at dealing with mishaps. He clears his throat, which draws your attention to him. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask. 

“No no, everythin’ is fine, sweetheart. I just. . .” he sighs. “I want to ask somethin’.” 

“Ask away.” 

“Can we—Would you want to—” he groans in frustration and you start grinning. His frustrated pout is adorable. All you want to do is smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb and give him a kiss. 

“Joel Miller,” you tease, not missing the way his breath catches in your throat. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Oh god, you hope your intuition is right. If it isn’t this call is about to get really awkward. 

He flushes, eyes dropping as he nods. 

“Is that okay?” 

This is highly unprofessional, “More than okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

His grin is infectious. 

“Good,” he lets out a breath then settles back against the couch. “Now show me those pretty tits, honey.” 

You can’t believe you’re actually in JMiller’s, aka Joel’s, home. 

The date had gone better than you expected. He was kind, charming, and chivalrous which were all qualities you haven’t seen for a while. Ever since you started streaming you hadn’t been on many dates and frankly, after a while, you purposefully avoided them. It just felt like asking for drama that you had no intention of dealing with. But Joel wasn’t like that. He could be blunt, a bit grumpy, yet also kind. He had taken you to one of his favorite pubs. Beers accompanied by the best jalapeno poppers you ever had equated to one of the finest dates you’ve ever had. 

He was a contractor, had a daughter in college, and a younger brother. His mother and father had passed a long time ago and ever since Sarah left, he’d been feeling lonely. He’d admitted shyly that that was the reason why he signed up on Ravish. He wanted company. 

You found it incredibly charming. 

As soon as Joel closes the door behind you two, you fall into each other’s arms. He kisses you with fervor, tongue slipping between your lips as he breathes you in at the same time. You feel him everywhere. Large hands squeezing your hips, waist, breasts—it’s intoxicating. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your lids falling when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like beer and you’re pretty sure you do too. 

Joel pushes you up against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs while you continue to chase his lips with an insatiable need. You can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for a second. He drags his lips down your neck, mouthing at your jugular, sharp teeth nipping the sensitive flesh. Your hips jerk to meet his and with a growl, he pins you back to the wall. 

“Don’t,” he grunts. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this honey, so fuckin’ long.” 

Your lips curl, a challenge lingering in your eyes, “Show me then, big boy. Show me how bad you want to fuck your slut.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping your chin harshly and pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth clink together, he pulls back just as quick, the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Fuck,” he breathes out again. “You have quite the mouth on you, darlin’.” 

You have no recollection of how the two of you clamored upstairs, stripping one another in a lustful haze. The time you realize you’re naked is when you feel the cool air of the room caressing your burning skin, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down between your breasts, fingers eagerly working your nipples as he forces you to walk back until your back of your knees hit the bed and you fall. 

Not wanting to give in so easily, you wrap your fingers around his heavy cock. It juts angrily between his legs, answering your touch by drooling all over your palm, slickening your movements. You jerk him until he’s fully hard, his breathing heavy as he rolls his hips to meet the tightness of your fist. He sinks his teeth into your neck, the pain that blossoms coaxes a moan from you, your own wetness growing between your legs. 

“I knew you’d be fucking big,” you whisper, tongue toying with his earlobe. “So huge—makes me wonder if I can take it. . .” 

“I’ve seen you take bigger,” he groans, hips stuttering. A whimper drops from your lips, you want him, you want to feel him inside, want to feel his come dripping out later. You feel thick fingers spreading your soaked folds, he drags down a middle finger between them, licking himself into your mouth as he draws circles around your aching clit. “So wet for me,” he rasps. “Gonna make a mess in you, honey.” 

You gasp, “P-Please.” 

He lines himself against your entrance, teasing you, stretching you subtly with the bulbous head of his cock. Your head falls back and your back arches into him. He draws a hard nipple between his lips, closing them as he sucks. Heat rushes all over your body, arousal thick on your tongue. You clutch the sheets. He smiles as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch with a lax jaw and a dazed gaze. 

He stops and waits for you to adjust to him. Joel’s forehead drops against yours, dampness growing between the skin. You feel his breath fanning your face, so warm. There’s a hint of pain, the type that makes you flutter around him. He feels it too. The way you tighten against him, your body begging for more. He obliges. Pushing further and further until his hips are flushed against yours. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing heavy. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he presses fleeting kisses all over your face. It’s ticklish and if all your senses wasn’t narrowed in between your legs, you would’ve giggled. 

Your body jerks as he pulls back, the pleasure you feel is instant and overwhelming. You’ve missed the feeling of actual flesh inside of you. Joel snaps his hips forward, locking your breath in your throat, with a moment of desperation you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. He fucks you in earnest. Every thrust desperate. Every thrust needy. He seems lost in you, whimpers, groans and grunts trembling in his throat and chest. You spread your legs wider, wanting more of him, wanting your cunt to take the shape of his cock. 

“Harder—” you cry out. “Take it—Take what you want—” 

Your arms fall limp, his body moving up and towering over yours. Joel grips your thighs tight before lifting them, he jackhammers into you, tugging and pulling at you like a brand new fucktoy. He splits you in half. The force of his movements making you scream. You don’t miss the way he grins wildly, dangerously. Something dark and haunting washing over his face. 

Your eyes grow wide, your heart beating in your throat, making it hard to swallow. It happens all at once, you clench around him, arousal pouring between your legs in a way it never had before. The look, the cock, the man behind it all—everything combined pushing your mind into the deep stages of want and need. Your eyes roll back, your hands coming up to pinch your tight, tingling nipples. You sob his name, your voice hoarse as you beg him for more and more and more—

“W-Wait, darlin’ if you squeeze me like that I’ll—!” 

A series of curses drops wildly and unintelligently from his lips. You feel him. The heat of his seed filling you to the brim, his cock throbs and twitches, spurting into you again and again. Your lips break into a satisfied smile. Instinctively, Joel pushes deeper, shoving your combined slick even deeper. 

“Shit,” he says catching his breath. “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I usually last. . . longer than that. I—” 

You shush him and cup his cheek. You’re so pliant right now, floating happily in the air. You let out a sigh before willing your lips to move. Has talking always been this taxing? 

“It’s okay Joel,” you slur your words, smiling lazily. “I take it as a compliment, that felt fucking good.” 

“Yeah?” he sounds so innocent and hopeful that you can’t suppress your giggle. His eyes twinkle under the dimmed light. “Well, I’m glad you felt good, sweetheart but I’m not done yet.” 

Your breath hitches when he pulls out, your brows furrow as a chill settles between your legs. You wanted him to stay inside longer. But you’re pleasantly surprised when he slides down your body, kissing every patch of skin before settling between your legs. 

“Let’s see if you’re as sweet as you’ve been tellin’ me.” 

He kisses your cunt, lips moving in tandem with your wet folds. He drags his tongue up between them, curling it as he takes himself into his mouth, tasting both of you at one. You go limp at the pressure of his tongue, your walls fluttering and squeezing for more. With a groan, he shoves his fingers, the wet sound makes your toes curl into the mattress. It’s like torture, a very pleasurable torture. You gasp when he pulls you flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your clit as he licks you clean. 

Your build up is spontaneous. You feel it coming, the taste of your orgasm at the tip of your tongue. Joel curls his fingers, sucking your clit between his lips and gently nipping at it. You hips chases his mouth, his mustache chafing the tender skin. Your hands come to each side of his head, threading your trembling fingers through the soft locks, his fingers brush against an especially sensitive spot and you tug at his hair. His throat shakes with a groan. His eyes closing. 

“Do it again,” he mutters. And you do. He starts moaning into your cunt, his hips, despite just spilling inside of you, rutting against the bed. Your nails bite into his scalp and he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The tension coiling in you finally snaps, your entire body locking up as you gush into his mouth. He gulps you down loudly, fingers still moving deep inside you. Your throat is dry as ou shout his name, hips stuttering helplessly, he pins you down with both hands, moving his head up and down as the fat strokes of his tongue becomes more wild. 

When he’s finally done feasting, he pulls away with a wet mouth. 

“Wow,” you murmur, curling into him when he lays beside you. “That was. . . wow.” 

“You really had low expectations, huh?” 

“Not low,” you grin. “But not that high either.” 

“Well,” he says, guiding you so you’ll lay on his chest. “I’m glad to prove you wrong.” 

You smile, heart fluttering. 

“Me too.” 

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mikey mik–

Valentine's Day | Michelangelo

i agree, anon. bayverse again since i might as well complete the set!

warnings: shitty and uninspired title. swearing which i probably should've added to my other pieces too but oh well. everyone is always 18+!! hints of suggestiveness but its very minor. also fem!reader with mention of lady, gal etc. never proofread!!

summary: mikey loves valentine's day; side-note, leo is a communist

word count: 830

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mikey loved Valentine’s Day. He’d woken up early to decorate the Lair with the most garish shades of pink he could find, and he’d covered Raph in flower petals while he slept, having to cover his mouth with his hand to hold back his sniggers. It happened every year, and every year he found it funnier. His brother’s didn’t. Raph would rage, Donnie would roll his eyes (although he would chuckle a little when no one could hear), and Leo would sigh.

He knew they saw the day as the epitome of a life they could never have. Raph especially found it hard so why not have him concentrate his insecurity and anger at the injustice of the world on Mikey for the harmless pranks he pulled? If it helped him forget the pain inside him for a short while, then Mikey would gladly face his ire. Donnie would just lock himself within his lab (how unexpected), and Leo would pretend nothing was wrong. Leo did that a lot.

The smallest turtle privately thought that their oh-so-Fearless Leader was more emotionally constipated than Raph. Especially on Valentine’s Day. Leo would never admit the real reason for his dislike of the day and Mikey could already hear this year’s excuse:

“Valentine’s Day is a capitalistic endeavour reliant on pressure and novelty, designed to scam consumers and perpetuate the relentless commodification of the self and emotions blah blah blah blah blah…”

Leo always got all preachy after reading. He’d go on rants (“calm and factual explanations that you might actually benefit from listening to Michelangelo”) about two dudes called Marks and Angles (who the fuck called themselves Angles?) and the others would tune him out. Maybe Leo was right, but Mikey didn’t really care. Especially not this year. Unlike his loser brothers, he actually had a date. Mikey resisted the urge to giggle at the thought. Of course, he was the most facially blessed so it would make sense as to why he’d have a beautiful lady accompanying him this evening. Plus, Donnie was a raging nerd, Leo was a fucking weeb, and Raph was, well, he was Raph.

He hadn’t told them yet. You wanted to keep things quiet, at least for now, and the terrapin eagerly agreed to your terms. Silence wasn’t exactly his forte, but he knew how to keep secrets even if his family didn’t believe that. He’d planned the date in secret; he couldn’t be too elaborate, he was still a mutant turtle after all, but he’d done everything he could think of to make it special. He frowned in thought at a fuchsia heart that he'd stuck on the wall. You’d like it. You always liked the things Mikey did; you always laughed at his jokes even when everyone else groaned.

“I’ll love anything you plan, Angelo.” He believed when you said that. You were patient and kind in a way his brothers rarely were with him. That didn’t stop the fluttering of butterfly wings in his stomach. He’d never been one to be nervous, he’d quite literally jumped out of an aeroplane on a skateboard, but you made his palms sweat, his heart jump, and his words stutter. He was normally so smooth with women (or, well, woman since he’d only known April before you but that was irrelevant), yet you made him a flustering mess. He’d never let you catch on to that, though; he preferred if you thought he was just feeling extra goofy in your presence.

“Angelooooooo–”

Speak of the devil. Or angel, he supposed. “ANGELCAKES!” Mikey grinned, hearing Raph curse at the booming shout, then curse again as he no doubt realised what his brother had done for the seventh year running. Last year, Raphael had stayed up all night to avoid the flowers, so Mikey had waited in the shower (also all night) to pop a confetti canon full of petals in his face. He’d probably resigned himself to his fate the night before, but that wouldn’t stop his irritation.

You raised your brow. “Roses again?”

Mikey winked at you. “Carnations. I was on a budget this year, spent all my roses money on this gorgeous gal, you wouldn’t know her.” He grinned wider at your snickers, then somehow even wider as you pressed a kiss to his cheek before anyone could interrupt.

“You’re so…”

“Handsome? Charming? Dashing?”

“Of course, babe.”

God, Mikey loved you.

“YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS NUMBNUTS!”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Run, Forrest, run. Just try not to let him bruise your face.”

“Aw, I was hoping you’d kiss it better.”

You smirked and Mikey felt his face flush as you gave him a sultry look, your eyes tracing the length of his body and pausing pointedly. “How about this, I’ll kiss anywhere it hurts on our date tonight.”

If Mikey let Raph catch him quicker than usual and put up less of a fight than normal, well, that was no one else's business, was it?

[ouatsqincorrect]

I’m intrigued to hear your thoughts/headcanons on Regina and Leopold’s “marriage” and what exactly it was like for everyone involved eg. Snow, Cora, Henry Sr, ofc Regina and etc. I went way too deep into a thought-spiral myself about it and the more I dwell on it, the more pain I feel for Regina. Given the tiny heartbreaking pieces of insight we’re given about her life as Leopold’s wife in flashbacks, just imagine the crap she had to go through that we didn’t even get to see onscreen.

honestly, i think if ouat hadn’t been a “family show,” regina’s story would’ve been even more depressing because yeah, there is so much we just didn’t get to see but was hinted at and i—

give this poor woman a break. anyway.

one thing that always really bothered me about snow is that it seems like no one ever sat her down and told her that her father was regina’s abuser, so she brings him up when she shouldn’t (like the idea that she was going to name baby neal “leopold.” i mean. can you imagine the amount of shit that would’ve brought up for regina.)

which is why, in my mind, snow and regina actually do sit and down and have that conversation at some point

archie’s the one who suggests it when snow mentions leopold and it causes regina to go into a full blown panic attack. she tells him about this in a session and he tells her the only way she’s going to be able to stop this is by letting snow know that it makes her uncomfortable

which regina really doesn’t like. she’s never had any intention of telling snow the truth about all of that. and honeslty, i think this has always been the case, even when she was the evil queen

she’d rather snow live in a blissful world were her father was actually a good guy, then be the one to tell her that no, he was actually a really, really shitty human being

maybe because regina knows what it’s like to have a parent who lets you down

and when she has to have that conversation with snow, she’s terrified. she has herself convinced that she’s going to lose everyone (snow, emma, henry, etc.) because of it

but emma assures her that it won’t happen like that because this is snow white we’re talking about and despite being given many chances to walk out regina’s life for good, she never has

snow is upset, to say the least, when she finds out but it’s not for the reasons regina thinks. i mean, yes, she’s hurt to find out her father was a piece of shit but she’s more hurt to find out regina had to go through what she did, and to find out that maybe daniel wasn’t the whole reason as to why the evil queen wanted to kill her for so long

ultimately, she tells regina simply “you’re my family now. not him.” and that’s that. snow may be an idiot at times but she does care for those she loves fiercely and regina is one of those people

(which by the way, quick side note, david has always had a bit more of an understanding as to who snow’s father really was. he can read between the lines and he actually noticed all the times regina would flinch when snow mentioned her father’s name. he’s actually grateful when snow and regina finally talk about it, because it’s always been an elephant in the room)

regina knows cora is the reason she was forced to be in that marriage, and yeah, she’s found ways to forgive her but that relationship will always be tainted because of it. it makes things like mother’s day and cora’s birthday all that much harder for regina

she can also admit that her father didn’t help things. henry sr loved her immensely, but he was also a coward who stood by and let regina get abused by multiple different people (cora, leopold, rumple). he even admitted to this in the underworld, at least in terms of cora

but regina forgives him easily because even though he never tried to stop it, he was also the only person who held her and was there for her after the king would do what he wanted to her

at the end of the day, this is something regina tried really hard to just forget. but it does come back and hit her hard and that’s why conversations, like the one she has with snow, have to happen

there are a few days out of the year that really bring back those feelings in full swing (the anniversary of her wedding night, etc.) and her family is aware of when these days are and how to help regina handle them

usually it involves her and emma staying home from work, watching shitty movies david and zelena suggest, and eating a casserole snow made (the one thing snow makes that regina doesn’t complain about—actually she loves it)

also, regina isn’t fragile. she’s not broken. but she is trying to heal and when there aren’t villains to fight every single day, there’s more time for her to think over those things from her past

and it’s a real fucking journey

[iridescentoracle]

So, I talked the other day a Whole Bunch about how I’d rewrite Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney to make it actually good. Obviously, I’ve thought about the subsequent games too. It took me a lot longer to figure out what I’d do with Dual Destinies, and I’m still not sure about Spirit of Justice, but one thing that made a lot of stuff click into place was thinking about the original trilogy, and how it ultimately can be boiled down to three main themes/plotlines:

Satire/Critique of the Japanese legal system

Generational Trauma Surrounding the Kurain Channeling Legacy

[gestures at Phoenix and Edgeworth’s relationship]

There’s a lot of reasons the so-called “Apollo Justice trilogy” games all feel wildly disconnected from each other and also mostly the original trilogy, but I think a lot of it comes down to how the themes/plotlines from the original games get lost or are irrelevant because we’ve got a new cast of characters, but there’s nothing tying the new games together but a shared (and much more dramatically expanding) cast of characters.

So for this proposed rewrite project, I’m fixing that. The Apollo Justice trilogy is going to be a trilogy, and that means shared/extended themes and plots that tie all three games together, and tie this trilogy back to the original even though most of the original cast, in this version, have even smaller roles (see: Apollo’s shitty mentor in my rewrite of AA4 being a separate person from Phoenix, who we barely see, etc).

So:

The legal system satire/critique stays consistent in rewritten DD & SOJ, instead of getting completely forgotten about/undermined in DD and doubled down to the point of losing all meaning in SOJ.

Generational Trauma Surrounding the Troupe Gramarye Legacy

honestly i haven’t figured this part out yet but it involves apollo somehow. this rewrite project is a work-in-progress and i’m mostly figuring it out as i go

I’m going to get to each of these in turn, starting (more or less) with the legal system critique, although it’s about to look like I’m mostly complaining about bad writing (in the form of character actions that seem to have been written without any thought actually put into making them make sense from the perspective of the characters in question), which is fair because I kind of am; bear with me, though, I promise it’ll be relevant and I think it’s a pretty solid illustration of how the thematic issues are inherently also narrative/characterization issues and vice versa.

So, let’s talk about Edgeworth and Blackquill’s plan and why the hell they thought that was a good idea. I swear to god, I cannot figure out how that entire plotline makes any sense, unless Edgeworth worked out that Blackquill thought he was covering for Athena and also that the real murderer was probably the Phantom purely via considering the parallels to his own life.

Because, like, the thing is. “this convicted murderer is allowed to be a prosecutor in the last few months before his execution (for murder), thanks to the machinations of a man who has dedicated the last like eight years of his life to being Staunchly Anti-Prosecutorial-Corruption” is just. completely nonsensical. So Edgeworth has to have some reason to think he wasn’t actually the murderer. But the canon trial makes it pretty clear Blackquill was the only suspect thanks to #1 nobody checking the security footage carefully #2 Blackquill making sure Athena wasn’t one, so why would Edgeworth think that? But for that matter, how did Edgeworth even know Blackquill, like, existed, let alone learn about the Phantom? Like, maybe he heard about Blackquill from a third party and got curious and looked into things, or was, like, looking through records of Prosecutors Found Guilty Of Crimes for some reason and found a case he and Phoenix hadn’t been involved in (for once) and had Questions, okay, but he wouldn’t have found out about the Phantom either of those ways, so even if he also somehow learned about him separately, why would he think to connect the two? So he has to have learned about Blackquill’s information on the Phantom from Blackquill, but why would Blackquill confide in someone else like that?

The only way I can make any of those pieces fit together in my head is if Edgeworth figured out Blackquill was attempting to cover for a kid who set off all of the Parallels To DL-6 alarm bells in Edgeworth’s head, and Edgeworth’s two mental options are “just fucking leave. run for it now. never think about this again” and “okay but what if neither the kid nor the other adult in the room was actually the person who murdered the kid’s parent. maybe there was a secret third adult who killed them for mysterious reasons” and he picks metaphorical door #2 (rather than leaving through literal door #1 and going home) and man do i want to see what that conversation/logic chess sequence looked like. At what point did Edgeworth contemplate the possibility of watching Phoenix cross-examine the defendent’s pet hawk

Also, crucially when i say Edgeworth picks #2, I mean he says that out loud, bc I really don’t buy that Blackquill would have just casually confided in him (or anyone) about the Phantom, but Edgeworth working out that Blackquill was trying to protect Athena (who he thinks really did it) and immediately going “okay i see why you assumed it was her but have you considered: what if there was secretly a third party who was the real murderer all along” does seem like the one thing that would actually get him to talk.

And tbh? I think everything makes more sense and is even more compelling if Edgeworth and Blackquill’s plan isn’t just to lure out the Phantom bc he’s a ~super spy with nefarious motives etc, but to lure out the real murderer, now that they’ve realized he probably exists.

To be clear, i don’t think that’s what was intended to have happened in canon, but i think it’s what would have to be true for Edgeworth’s involvement not to be hopelessly stupid and counterproductive.

And this is what I mean about the problems with the characterization/narrative choices being intimately intertwined with the thematic issues, because Edgeworth’s whole deal is fundamentally tied up in the legal system satire of the first three games (and Investigations 1 & 2, for that matter) and so it’s incoherent/inconsistent/nonsensical on a character/narrative level and a thematic level both at the same time. If we’re supposed to believe he did something as stupid as “letting a convicted murderer be a prosecutor without a reason to believe he had not, in fact, committed any crimes” then it undercuts his entire arc up to this point. Still, even that proposed backstory/context, while it would at least provide an understandable motivation/train of reasoning that would actually be in keeping with what we know about Edgeworth up to this point, is ultimately rooted in the Phantom plotline as it exists in canon, which I think is fundamentally flawed on three different levels, and genuinely fixing Dual Destinies requires completely rewriting it.

The three central problems with the Phantom plot, IMO, are actually pretty simple:

The legal system critique that ultimately was part of the heart of the first four games gets completely forgotten about.

Ableism

The stakes are too high and not personal enough, which undercuts the emotional impact and weakens the audience’s emotional investment.

To elaborate, because I’m not sure all of those are equally evident at a glance:

One of our main antagonists is a prosecutor who’s also a convicted murderer and… the worst thing he actually does is be mean to people. No evidence tampering, no forgery, no witness suppression, no actual murder. He’s just kinda scary-looking. The ultimate main villain of the game is a cop! He spends most of the game being nice and friendly and helpful but at the end of the day he committed a whole bunch of crimes, Dual Destinies says ACAB oh wait no never mind he’s actually an imposter and the real police detective he’s impersonating was probably genuinely a really good guy.

The whole “the Phantom has no emotions and therefore doesn’t really count as a person I guess so it’s okay to prove his identity even though the very explicitly established consequences are He Will Be Assassinated Right There in The Courtroom, Which Is Exactly What Happens but everyone’s pretty okay with that because hey, he didn’t have emotions, it’s fine, he’s exempted from, like, deserving basic human rights I guess???” is uh. you know. sure a choice they made

It sounds ridiculous to call the original games “grounded” or “realistic,” but like… at the end of the day, the culprits in the first four games are all just… people? The most powerful people who turned out to be murderers were, like, the CEO of a company, a chief of police, a popular actor, etc. Those are real kinds of people who do normal crimes in real life. The characters are ridiculous and over-the-top but at the end of the day the stakes mostly felt high because they were personal. Even when there’s magic involved, the actual crimes are ultimately things that could have happened for mundane reasons too! All the drama with spirit channeling and at the end of the day, half the spirit channeling-related crimes in the original trilogy come down to someone trying to kill or disgrace her sister and niece so that her own kid will inherit, or a teenage girl dealing with emotional abuse/neglect trying to escape and then trying to cover her tracks or get revenge on people she felt had personally hurt her. But now our stakes involve international espionage and a super-spy who can look like anyone? Absurd as it is to say, Dual Destinies doesn’t feel grounded the way the original trilogy did, and outside Athena’s trial, the personal aspects of the cases mostly come down to “the victim and/or suspect are cared about by the characters we care about,” which isn’t enough to bring the absurdly high stakes back down to something it’s easy to genuinely be invested in.

So. Let’s fix all of those. Conveniently, they all have the same solution: Bobby Fulbright is genuinely a cop. He’s exactly who he seems like up until the canon reveal. He is good-natured and cheerful and energetic and mostly pretty helpful to our protagonists. He’s also the man who murdered Metis Cykes and Clay Terran.

Instead of international espionage, he was engaged in corporate espionage. He was a security guard at GYAXA who got bribed to steal some of Metis Cykes’ research, but got caught and panicked and stabbed her. Even after Simon Blackquill was found guilty, he still felt too nervous to keep working at more or less the scene of the crime, and quit the private security guard gig in favor of becoming a cop. Seven years later, new Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth continued his whole signature anti-corruption deal, going through records of convictions of past prosecutors & law enforcement officers, and something about Blackquill’s conviction didn’t sit right, so he arranged to meet the guy in person. Hearing the story from Blackquill’s own mouth, Edgeworth saw some parallels between UR-1 and DL-6, figured out out that Blackquill had falsely confessed under the belief Athena Cykes had accidentally killed her own mother, and (mostly for DL-6 reasons) theorized that there could have been a third person on the scene who managed to escape undetected. Investigating the evidence, he found the security footage of someone in a security guard uniform and Metis Cykes’ jacket leaving the scene of the crime, and met with Blackquill again with that information and a record of Athena testifying at Blackquill’s trial that she’d seen a stranger in her mother’s lab before Simon arrived. At the time she’d been written off as lying or confused due to the trauma, but with the security footage proving her right, Edgeworth and Blackquill realize that she (unlike the security camera) likely saw the security guard’s face, and so would be the only person who could potentially identify him as Metis Cykes’ real killer—thus putting Athena in danger, if they ever happened to meet.

Without actual evidence linking the unknown security guard to the crime, though—no unidentified fingerprints had ever been found, and the footage didn’t show his face, so there was no way to figure out which of the security guards employed at the time was the real killer, if any records even still existed seven years later given that none of the security guards had been seriously considered as suspects at the time—the new evidence wouldn’t be enough to re-open Blackquill’s case, let alone overturn his conviction. (I have no idea if that would be true IRL, in the US or Japan, but this is Japanifornia, it’s fine, that’s how it works here because I say so. The burden of proof is on the defense and defendents are guilty until proven innocent.) Worse news: this whole discovery happened right after Blackquill’s execution date was finally set, severely curtailing their ability to investigate in any kind of normal sane way because Oh Boy That Time Limit, so: time for an absolutely terrible insane plan that would absolutely ruin the anti-corruption reputation Edgeworth has spent the last ten years working very hard to develop if it didn’t pay off. Also fuck it, Edgeworth says: let’s get Phoenix Wright involved, this is exactly the kind of batshit gamble he thrives on.

(Note: this game rewrite is set post my Apollo Justice rewrite, in which Phoenix was never disbarred, and he and Edgeworth got together within a year of T&T. See there for elaboration and, like, a lot of complaining about how AJ should have been amazing and wasn’t.)

As in canon, the plan in question is, essentially:

Let Blackquill return to prosecuting crimes again while still a convicted murderer on death row

?????

The real murderer of Metis Cykes is caught and Blackquill is proven innocent after all

Profit

I have no idea what step two is supposed to be but given that step three of the canon plan seemed to be “the Phantom turns up to steal back the psych profile which he somehow finds out Blackquill had all along” and I didn’t understand step two there either, I don’t super care.

Blackquill agrees to the whole crazy plan, but only on the condition that both Edgeworth and Phoenix swear they won’t tell anyone about the real plan without his permission, and in particular they absolutely will not tell Athena specifically.

Phoenix, who just hired Athena like a week ago, and has definitely connected the dots to figure out she became a lawyer to save Blackquill and is seeing some parallels of his own:

…But Blackquill’s life is the one in imminent danger (his execution date has just been set) and the whole plan relies on his cooperation, so ultimately (after a lot of arguing), Blackquill wins and they agree.

It’s not easy; after 1-5 and 3-5, Edgeworth and Phoenix were not going to be easily convinced not to tell Athena. They have seen how Complicated Scheming With The Goal Of Protecting A Young Woman But Without, Like, Telling Her Anything goes before (not to mention the more general Bad Associations with the possibility that someone out there might be plotting the death of a kid for the crime of being inconvenient in some way, see 1-4 and 2-2 and arguably 3-1), but I absolutely do believe that Blackquill would listen to all their arguments and still be like “my only priority is Athena’s safety; if she finds out about any of this she will try to investigate and will not prioritize her own safety, I don’t care what you think, if you tell her anything I’m out,” so ultimately they’re stuck.

On a side note, Trucy (when she does turn up in Dual Destinies) is a delight, but her role is bizarrely tiny for someone who’s hands-down the best new character of the trilogy, so in this rewrite she actually spends most of the game investigating with Apollo and Athena. She’s not actually super happy about it, though, because she wants to be investigating with Phoenix but he won’t let her, or even tell her about what his current case is. She feels like he doesn’t trust her and she’s pretty hurt though she doesn’t want to talk about it, etc, and in general there are canon-typical levels of hinting at deeper issues without actually directly addressing them.

In the end, things get more or less wrapped up by Phoenix (and Edgeworth) being like “look we wanted to tell all three of you what was going on but we were sworn to secrecy, and it was Blackquill’s life on the line so we couldn’t risk breaking his trust,” with the implication of further discussions to be had off-screen/post-game abt the deeper insecurities and anything that still feels insufficiently well justified, but just like that, here’s Trucy in a larger role with a new emotional conflict/interestingly complicated relationship that nevertheless doesn’t require/get much screen time bc Phoenix isn’t there for her to be actively having this conflict with.

There’s also a whole new case added between 5-3 and 5-4 that revolves around the Gramarye family legacy, in which Trucy, Apollo, and Lamiroir all learn who they are to each other, but I’ll get to that later.

In the meantime, back to the Fulbright thing! As in canon, he’s both Blackquill’s assigned police detective and his parole officer, which definitely secretly kind of terrifies Fulbright because oh god oh fuck he was a suspect specifically because he used to hang around the space center with his sister & mentor back when I worked there, what if he recognizes me, but hey, keep your enemies close, right? Especially when they’re definitely planning something, and also the only person who knows they didn’t actually commit the murder they were convicted for that was actually your doing. So.

(If Athena notices that despite his cheerful demeanor and attempt to be casual about the whole thing, he actually sounds terrified of Blackquill, it’s ironically very easy to brush off bc like. Look he tries to be cheerful and good-natured but Blackquill’s a scary guy, okay, just look at him, etc.)

So, with Fulbright secretly there all along, not in on the investigation/unaware there’s new evidence that could help point at his guilt but still close enough to keep an eye on things, no further progress is actually made in the luring-out-Metis-Cykes’-real-killer project, and time starts growing short.

Meanwhile, GYAXA is preparing for a manned rocket launch. Time to rewrite some more backstory.

A bit more than seven years ago, Solomon Starbuck worked for a private sector rival of GYAXA, but their secret use of sub-standard materials in nearly proved deadly for him, and upon returning to Earth, he quit and joined GYAXA instead. The rival company’s reputation took multiple massive hits (from the near-failure of the mission, the subsequent exposé about cost-cutting measures at the expense of employee safety up to and including materials used in rocket ships, and the newly-famous Starbuck’s resultant departure for GYAXA), and they promptly resorted to attempting corporate espionage (via bribing security guard Bobby Fulbright), leading to Metis Cykes’ death.

Seven years later, when GYAXA starts gearing up for Starbuck’s next trip into space, their rival company attempts to cause the launch to be canceled via phone calls claiming the rocket will be sabotaged otherwise. The hoax partially works: the director secretly arranges for the launch to be faked bc he believes better safe than sorry but he doesn’t have the authority to just straight-up officially cancel it, and meanwhile the police are also alerted of the claimed bomb threat, and a team is sent to ensure everything goes fine, which would’ve been fine, except Fulbright is on the team.

That would also be fine, except Fulbright is already concerned because Blackquill’s execution date is closing in so there must be something big going on that he doesn’t know about but even being Blackquill’s parole officer/detective hasn’t let him figure out what. (Ironically, he’s probably wrong; Edgeworth and Phoenix and Blackquill are all getting pretty stressed about things getting down to the wire, but don’t actually have any more concrete way to lure out the real killer or they already would’ve arranged it, and mostly what’s going on behind-the-scenes is arguments about getting more people (including Athena) involved in the investigation.) When he then learns about the bomb threat to GYAXA and (correctly) guesses that it’s likely the doing of GYAXA’s rival company who’d bribed him all those years ago, Fulbright is super paranoid about the possibility that the bomb threat might be real, and if it is that it might be the work of a new security guard, and if it is and they get caught, that the already-raised suspicions regarding Blackquill’s innocence will be basically confirmed, and Fulbright himself will finally be suspected of the murder of Metis Cykes.

As a result of his paranoia, Fulbright goes poking around in areas he wasn’t actually supposed to be, accidentally runs into Clay Terran, and (in a panic) kills him. Solomon Starbuck is deemed the primary suspect, Apollo takes the case, and a bomb squad specialist (disappointed the threat to GYAXA turned out to be a hoax) gets bored. The Cosmic Turnabout and Turnabout Countdown commence.

Things actually mostly go as in canon, just following on from the differences I’ve already established. The final major change is that while the hostage situation still happens, we’re lowering the stakes and making them more personal: it’s not a dozen people conveniently-for-Aura including Trucy, and there’s no fake robot uprising. Trucy is the hostage and Aura’s pretty open about it being her doing from the start.

Again, this is a sequel to my alternate version of AA4. Phoenix never got disbarred and he and Edgeworth have been together for years. It is common knowledge that Trucy is the daughter of Phoenix Wright + the new chief prosecutor. Since she’s Blackquill’s sister, Aura might even be one of the few people who knows Edgeworth found new information about the UR-1 incident (although she either doesn’t know about or doesn’t buy the security guard theory), and that this whole weird letting-Blackquill-prosecute-cases arrangement is part of some sort of plan to prove his innocence, so hey, win-win, right? Phoenix and Edgeworth try Athena for her mother’s murder, they prove Blackquill innocent just like Edgeworth was already trying to do anyway, and their daughter doesn’t get hurt.

Also there’s still room for an “oh no the robot uprising!” joke in there, potentially. The robots all start acting weird, someone’s like OH NO THE ROBOT UPRISING! CURSE YOUR SUDDEN BUT INEVITABLE BETRAYAL, I GLADLY SURRENDER TO OUR NEW ROBOT OVERLORDS etc and then via the nearest robot Aura is like “oh my god shut up” and it turns out all the robots are acting weird bc they’re all looking for Phoenix or one of his associates to let him know his daughter’s being held hostage and he better listen up.

Aaaand that’s about all I’ve got on that front. I know the culprit not being a super-spy and there not being actual bombs at the HAT-2 fake launch creates some plot holes but while I’m a life-long mystery fan, I’m not a mystery writer and that’s not really the part of this that I’m good at coming up with solutions to, although if anyone’s got ideas I am All Ears.

It’s not the most hard-hitting critique of the legal system, and I’m still working on figuring out how to improve it more; in particular, I’m honestly torn about Blackquill even turning out to have been completely innocent because it very much was a Whole Thing that all the prosecutors used to start out as corrupt and the ones we like had to become better, or, you know. go to jail for the crimes they very much did in fact commit. So it actually feels like a real step down, having the prosecutor in this one be a straight-up convicted felon who… turns out to have done nothing wrong and been a good guy all along actually, surprise! But I can’t figure out how to change that without undermining the whole resolution of the game and turning him into a fundamentally different character, so for now that part is what it is.

Meanwhile, at the end of the day: ACAB, including Bobby Fulbright who is actually genuinely a cop, and used his position to avoid being found guilty for crimes he’d committed (up to and including forging evidence to frame someone else). Which is to say, what the game almost said, without the haha nope nvm he was an imposter and the real Bobby Fulbright was probably a great guy actually of it all. Also in this version Fulbright casually tazing Blackquill is like. actually treated as fucked up and a reminder that oh right cops still suck and even if one seems friendly he will probably absolutely abuse his power over others given the slightest excuse, and also no one deserves to be subjected to police brutality. And while Edgeworth winds up being ethically in the clear in that he didn’t actually pull strings to let a murderer prosecute other people’s crimes bc he did know Blackquill was innocent all along, at the end of the day someone was in fact able to pull strings to let a convicted murderer etc. Which on the one hand requires a lot of suspension of disbelief, but on the other hand, like I just said about Blackquill: idk man I had to change this much just to make Fulbright work, I’ve only got so much to work with here and I’m not actually good at coming up with grand sweeping changes.

Also it occurs to me I haven’t actually established this yet but “the Dark Age of the Law” is stupid and we’re completely dropping that whole concept because if two relatively new lawyers apparently turning out to be bad people was enough to kick off a whole ~Dark Age~ and make the general public lose faith then where the hell was everybody during the reign of Demon Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth, Chief of Police Damon Gant and Chief Prosecutor Lana Skye, and the forty-year win streak of Manfred von Karma. And so forth. There’s probably room for something interesting to be done with like, the ways in which public perception of a situation doesn’t always reflect reality and large populations can be slow to consciously react to major trends and sometimes one small incident can be turned into a symbol of something it isn’t really even an example of anyway or whatever but like… I have no idea how to do that in the format of an Ace Attorney game so personally I am simply ditching that plotline wholesale.

So that’s that. Now let’s talk about Troupe Gramarye. In canon, Apollo Justice sets the Troupe Gramarye rights up to be a major plotline, but then it gets completely forgotten about in Dual Destinies, and sort of half-heartedly continued but not really resolved in Spirit of Justice. In this rewrite, the Troupe Gramarye legacy is more or less what the Kurain Spirit Channeling legacy was to the original trilogy: a nominally magical element that at the end of the day is mostly the catalyst for a story about greed and complicated families and the trauma and destruction they create.

So, the Gramarye-related cases in my rewritten Apollo Justice go as established (i.e. actually basically like canon except Phoenix escapes unscathed), except with a couple more tweaks: Lamiroir’s face is hidden way better, and neither she nor the audience learn who she is to Apollo and Trucy yet.

That gets saved for Dual Destinies’ brand new Gramarye rights-centric case.

While it could probably go earlier, I think it would fit best between Turnabout Academy and The Cosmic Turnabout. I’ve already covered the latter, so some notes about the former: plot-wise it remains unchanged, but a lot of the dialogue is different because I would have thought it was unbearably preachy and condescending at age nine and this game was rated M. We Do Not Need The Lecture, Thanks. Also Aristotle Means looks slightly more human/less like an actual straight-up marble statue because that was so unbelievably distracting. There’s weird character designs and then there’s By The Way, This Literal Marble Statue Is Sentient I Guess.

The rest of the difference is that (following on from my proposed Apollo Justice rewrite) Klavier Gavin gets to be an actual human being with feelings and not 60% of a lovingly-painted cardboard cutout of a person. He shows up with a re-design—possibly a slightly different outfit in general, I don’t have strong feelings about that, but the important thing is that he’s gotten a haircut. In my head he’s got roughly the same style from the flashback portions of 4-4, but that’s partially just because I’m not good at picturing things like that. What matters is that his hair looks nothing like Kristoph’s anymore. Also it’s established in passing that he and Trucy and Apollo have had a whole bunch of conversations in the last year and are all on good terms now, despite [gestures at 4-1 and 4-3 and 4-4], and that Klavier is doing more or less okay. Emphasis on “or less” once his beloved mentor gets murdered, but in this version he actually gets to be part of the post-case denoument conversations and establishes that he’s pretty devastated (despite the return of his professional facade) but Apollo and Trucy and Athena are all well aware of that and are, so to speak, on the case, and with their support eventually he’ll be okay.

So. With that out of the way, here’s a new case about the legacy of Troupe Gramarye.

We start off by learning that Lamiroir is in town again and Trucy wants to go see her, because last time they saw her perform live things went pretty badly and it kind of soured the whole experience in retrospect, but she really did have such a beautiful voice that Trucy wants to see her again (hopefully with nobody getting murdered this time). She talks Apollo into going with her pretty easily; he might put up a token resistance, but he’s actually not realy opposed since she’s performing solo this time and he likes her music a lot when the Gavinners aren’t involved. They go to the show, and it’s everything they could have hoped for and more, including that as it turns out, she’s working with Valant Gramarye again, and the effects are, again, super impressive.

But gasp, betrayal, after the show (possibly the next day, at the Wright & Co. Offices?) it turns out that Valant sucks even more than we thought (though, you know, framing his friend/in-my-version-brother for murder and abandoning the child of the woman he loved who had just also been abandoned by her father wasn’t exactly a great start): he’s suing Trucy for the Gramarye rights, based on the premise that she inherited them under false pretenses, because he’s discovered evidence that suggests Thalassa’s death was due to active negligence on Zak’s part, and he’s arguing that while Zak was the better/more talented magician, and thus Magnifi liked him better than Valant, Thalassa was Magnifi’s beloved daughter, and there’s no way Zak would’ve been given the first shot (so to speak) at earning the Gramarye rights if Magnifi hadn’t been blinded enough by grief to believe it was an accident, and while Trucy inherited the rights fair and square from Zak, he should never have had the rights in the first place, and Valant is the rightful inheritor.

I have no idea where the rest of the plot goes because I’m not a mystery writer and I don’t know how to come up with actual plots and red herrings and clues, but eventually there’s a dramatic reveal that there was active negligence involved, which Valant knew all along bc it was his fault.

…but that reveal is ultimately secondary to the one either shortly before or shortly after, that [drumroll] Thalassa wasn’t actually dead anyway

Which, again, I’m not a mystery writer, I don’t know if or how this would actually fit, but in my head there’s a great dramatic moment where the reveal happens for the audience—Valant, Trucy, Apollo, any Troupe Gramarye fans in the gallery, and the players—but not, for the first few moments, Lamiroir herself.

For whatever reason, she removes her veil/scarf, or they slip somehow, and so she’s there on the witness stand with her face visible around other people for the first time in years. The whole gallery (and Apollo) kind of collectively draw in a breath, while Valant says her name, genuinely stunned

And in almost the same moment, Trucy (who would sound five years old, if this bit was a cutscene) says “…Mommy?”

Cue discussion, Lamiroir learns who she is, the realization that Magnifi must have known she wasn’t really dead and the real cover-up was his doing all along etc, everything gets resolved, and Valant gives up on suing Trucy for the rights.

(The “hey that’s an awfully familiar-looking bracelet” reveal probably doesn’t happen until after the rest of the case is resolved, but I don’t have particularly strong feelings about that one way or the other.)

Everything winds up reasonably happy—Apollo and Trucy find out they’re half-siblings and their mother’s alive, Lamiroir resolves to get the surgery to restore her eyesight (and in the end credits we find out it helped restore her memory too), and Trucy gets to keep the Gramarye rights bc Valant’s suit was built on two different fundamental lies (that Thalassa’s death was Zak’s fault/that it wasn’t Valant’s, and that she was, you know, actually dead), and relatedly, in a shocking twist for the series, no one actually gets murdered, and there isn’t even an accidental death!

…but any hope of Trucy and Valant reconnecting/Valant becoming a positive figure in Trucy’s life again is pretty solidly destroyed, and there’s another two blows struck against the Troupe Gramarye legacy, bc not only was Thalassa’s accident actually Valant’s fault all along, Magnifi knew she wasn’t dead and abandoned her.

In a very direct parallel to Maya at the end of 3-5, Trucy spends most of the case uncertain whether she even wants these rights anymore—she ultimately decides the answer is yes, but it’s in question from basically the moment she learns Valant’s argument for why the rights should belong to him, and even him admitting the whole thing was based in lies and the rights are hers fair and square doesn’t convince her entirely right away.

Aaaaand then The Cosmic Turnabout kicks off and we’re back to the previously-established plot!

[docholligay]

Ep 9: Shauna

Hello! This is about up to Episode 9 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY episode 9 of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond the ninth episode, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me.  Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like  “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember  that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you  talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all  I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I  could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please  just fucking block the tag

If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.

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I love all of Shauna’s shit in this.

Shauna stabs Adam not because he lied to her, though she’s not thrilled about that, but because Shauna has such a fear of being found out. Shauna knows that at core, she is a creature. That she can kill, and has killed. That she can dismember, that she can be cold. That she can betray. That she longs to betray. No one can know that, that has to stay Shauna’s secret, and he is at the very precipice of getting close enough to realize, close enough to know, and so I’m not even sure the conscious level of Shauna stabs him, but that second layer of Shauna, simmering just under the surface, the basement of the house where Jackie lives, and accuses Shauna. 

Of course, this is all paired with the fact that Shauna desperately wants to be found out. To be exposed. For her monstrous predator nature to be made known. This is why she’s always so crap at hiding stuff--her shitty spot for the diary, the flight number as the code on the safe, her book club lies to Jeff--She got into Brown, she’s not that fucking stupid. She wants to be found out. She wants to scream that she is dangerous and not to be fucked with, but she can’t, because she has to be this idea she has of Shauna. She is the wolf in sheep’s clothing, and wants everyone to know it, and so she leaves these simple, easy breadcrumbs to be followed. 

It’s teenage Shauna, the wolf inside, that does this. 

And I knew it was going to happen, because I’m not sure what is going on with Adam--I still do not think he was somehow God’s most innocent lamb, though maybe I’m just sticking to my story because I hate being wrong--but whatever is going on with Adam is playing into all those feelings Shauna has not only of people discovering that she is a creature, but on an even simpler level, Adam is Jeff all over again. Adam is Shauna assuring herself that the popular, cute boy wants her, really wants her, not Jackie, not the pretty girls, but SHAUNA, and Adam ruins that with the possibility of having wanted her for manipulative reasons, of having wanted to discover her not because she is dangerous and sexy but because she is PROFITABLE. That’s the big hurt, that he never wanted her. That god forbid, Callie was right. 

It’s a lot going on! It’s a lot of feelings! But they all go back to teenage Shauna’s feelings of inadequacy and that monster under the surface, the one who took immediately to butchering. That’s why we see teenage Shauna take out the knife, because in many ways, she still IS teenage Shauna. Teenage Shauna who isn’t thinking about what they would be doing if they hadn’t crashed because some part of her knows she never ever would have goen to Brown. She never would have confronted Jackie. 

I mean even in fucking killing Adam, which, way to go girl, you’re making choices in your life I guess. They’re these, but they are choices! Even then, when Jeff says, “You murdered someone?” she doesn’t say yes, she says, “I stabbed hm and he died” even in this she cannot let herself be honest about her actions. Sure, she stabbed him and he died, but that was just a series of events, that wasn’t her MURDERING him. They may be the same on paper, but she’s a writer, and any writer knows that connotation is everything. Word choice matters. 

By the way, I absolutely love everything that happens with Shauna and Jeff, not because I was right (though we all know I love that) but because I think it proves so much about how she and Jeff always were perfect for each other, and Jackie was the outlier, not Shauna. When he says, “We’ve always been these people,” that is the most perfect way of summing it up that I could possibly think of. They are both duplicitous, desperate people, who do things in the darkness. It’s who they are, it’s who they’ve always been. 

That being said, I don’t know if I think Shauna deserves Jeff. Jeff was not lying, I don’t think, when he said he didn’t want to have married Jackie, that he loves Shauna. I think that is very clear in all of his actions. His first reaction when she reveals that she killed someone is to take the fall for it. That he refuses to let her take the fall “for something he did” even though Shauna very much was the one who stabbed Adam because he hurt her feelings and got too close.

[tundesweb]

Hey guys as you know I’m a writer who is trying to get back into le groove of things soooooo, I’m doing a story a day challenge.

If any other writers want to join me here’s the prompt I used today :

Imagine a near-death experience. Someone saves you, and you fall in love with them at first sight. Write about how the relationship can develop.

(Each prompt may not always be romance some may be you know shadow work etc)

Here’s today’s story:

It was a cold, wet, rainy day in New York when actress Lotus Dove angrily stormed out of her now ex-boyfriend’s apartment. She had to find out through checking her TikTok and realized everyone kept tagging her in the comments of a post. What she saw ripped her heart into shreds; her bestie Jez Label was seen sneaking into a hotel room with her man, Adonis McIntyre. The worst part of it all was that it was the night of her birthday. Her mind starts to recount the day, the weird vibes she sensed now adding up. Flashback to the birthday trip to the villa in St Barts. The group, which consisted of JD, Lotus, Jez, Adonis, and Pepper (JD her manager and Pepper the stylist/publicist/close childhood friend), were playing silly pool and card games, and for some reason, they decided the birthday would have to take twice the penalty. She had gotten so drunk she fell asleep on one of the lounge chairs at the pool. She was woken up at sunrise by one of the resort cleaners and went to her room to wash off the sins of the night. When she got to her room, she noticed the bed didn’t look slept in, and she wondered what happened to Adonis and how come he didn’t carry her to bed. While in the shower, he tiptoed his way in still in the clothing she last saw him in. He entered the bathroom and asked if he could join her in the shower. She said sure and noticed he had a guilty aura about him. She assumed it was because he left her to sleep practically outside. “Where’d you sleep?” She asks. He says in JD’s room. She thinks nothing of it and they shower in silence, get dressed, and head to breakfast. Flashback over*

Lotus, also known as L, realized Adonis didn’t carry her to bed because he was too busy fucking her bestie to care about her well-being. It’s one thing to be a cheater, but to do it with her best friend, that is an automatic burned bridge. She grabbed her phone and her coat, and promptly left his apartment. She was not the “gimme my stuff” type; everything is replaceable. On her way down, she did wish she had grabbed an umbrella as it was pouring rain and she could barely see where her chauffeur had parked. The one good thing was that the rain masked her tears. Regretting giving her security the day of, she frantically looked for her driver, who texted her now dead phone that he would come get her and for her not to move. With her mind replaying the betrayal, she hadn’t noticed the big gap between the sidewalk and the street. She twists her ankle in front of a car that just so happened to be reversing. Luckily, a handsome (not that she could see his face at the time) stranger picks her up, cradling her in his arms, and gives her the jacket off his back for cover. Why was the reversing car he chauffeur parking so he can exit the car to come get her? Realizing what happened, Rick the chauffeur apologizes profusely. “Miss Lotus, Miss Lotus, I am so sorry; visibility is so shitty right now, which I know is no excuse… Miss Lotus, are you alright, who is this?” Rick realized the man holding her was not Adonis. Lotus exclaims that she is alright and she just wants to get home so she can put up her ankle. Adonis comes down in his pajamas holding an umbrella and starts yelling at the handsome stranger to put his girl down. The whole fiasco becomes a front-page hit for the tabloids. “I can see it now,” she thinks, “The Plot Thickens in Sweetheart Actress’s new Love Drama,” “Is this Love Triangle Now A Square?” She groans at the thought. The handsome stranger looks down at Lotus and asks her, “do you want me to put you down, Miss Lotus?” She felt the vibration of his deep baritone voice in her skull as her head was close to his chest. She requests that he place her in the car, and that Rick can drive him home as well, it’s the least she can do for him saving her life. He tells her he actually lives in the same building as Adonis and is basically already home. He owns the penthouse (that Adonis couldn’t get which he then settled for the smaller one). That’s when Lotus realized the man holding her was none other than billionaire mogul Boas Bushwick, the eldest son of the Bushwick family, the first black-owned tech empire in New York City. His family has hospital wings named after them; yep, they were THAT rich.

Boas gently places her in the backseat and wishes her well. He says, “I hope we can keep in touch, but if not, it was a pleasure meeting you.” She replies, “let’s leave that up to fate,” blows him a kiss, and presses the button to close the door of her Rolls Royce Phantom.

I hope yall noticeeeeee the intentional symbolism of the names like Jez Label LMAOOOO (that one was def too on the nose 😭)

[justasmallbloginabigklainefandom]

@sohereswhatyoumissedlastweek replied to your post “the thought of this glee docu makes me feel...”:

Ew what? Hadn't heard about that. I guess tragedy has become the new sensation for tv. Like that netflix show about the serial killer Dahmer being super popular (and the family of the victims not wanting that show to be made)

​Yeah that. It is very gross. Imagine being Josey and people are gonna make a sensational docu series exploring on why and how you watched your mum drown! So fun! Or a victim of Mark’s, who has to see how this is being shown to a wider audience! Someone pointed out that these creators have used witness statements without people’s consent for their documentaries. 

Like... I am so upset about this. This is so not needed. I am all for the tea and that stuff, but there are some topics that are off-limit. Stuff like crunch hours or mismanagment? Now that is Glee tea. The racism on set? Oh spill it! Or their first shitty plane. Heck yeah! I would actually love to hear more about what it was like working on set, because that wasn’t all rosy either.

But csa, domestic abuse (if they also decided to “delve into” Blake’s entire situation yikes), drug addiction and drowning are not cute. It’s not even Glee. It’s about people who worked on Glee. Especially since the 3 people who are deceased have loved ones and victims (damnit Mark). And yeah, these tragedy people love to claim that it’s to “give people a voice” or they do it “in respect of the loved ones and victims” while they exploit and cash in on the trauma that the deaths have caused. I can imagine that the cast, crew, loved ones and victims don’t want to relive learning about the deaths and what happened. 

And even if people want to learn more about these topics... the tea is right fucking there. There is a reason Chris’s off-hand comment about Lea is getting a lot of press. The cast isn’t shying away from talking about the bad shit. Jenna, Kevin and Adam went in depth about how traumatising it was to lose Cory in a Showmance episode. Kevin pointed out that even years later he couldn’t watch Jessie’s Girl because it was just too much. Amber called the deaths a form of trauma bonding in a recent podcast. She even briefly mentioned Mark, which for obvious reasons is very off-limits to talk about. So the cast is occassionally talking about the very bad stuff, but they actually experienced it and they also know what they want to share and what not to share. The thought of an external party “exposing” what it was like without having any direct connection to it, is very icky and gross. 

Heck, Cory’s mum did a huge interview 5 years after Cory’s death. Naya wrote in lengths about his death in her book. It is out there. The cast/crew etc. doesn’t owe us shit, so they shared what they can/want and that is fine as long it is coming from them and they do it in a respectful manner. Especially re: Mark situation. I get that the best way to deal with that is to just not fucking talk about that at all. Let the people involved keep that. They don’t have to speak about it.

[romantic-reveries]

I really, really hate how this friend brings out the worst in me.

I’m generally the kind of person who is very happy for other people’s happiness and successes, but the strife between us has made it to where I often feel bitter at any of her perceived successes because I don’t feel like she deserves it. Which is SO mean. God, I hate it.

She makes me feel like an insecure, lonely teenager again. She’s often made comments that feel so unnecessarily competitive, though. Last summer, she told me and our other friend (all virgins at the time), that she wanted to be the first to lose it. We were both like “okay, go for it” because neither of us cared (or at least, I certainly didn’t—I was 28 and a virgin in only the most technical sense because of pain, and saw no need to rush.)

Today, she found out that I’m not anymore, (our other friend hasn’t been for months), and one of the first things she says is: “I’m the last one :(“

This, after listening to a monologue on how she doesn’t want to rush into having sex, and she’s never even been sexually attracted to anyone because she’s demisexual and she just wants to be “normal” (she’s 23 and I kept assuring her that these are all very normal feelings and things I felt myself at that age when I still hadn’t ever been involved with anyone in any way at all) and she’s not going to have sex unless she’s on birth control, etc etc. It’s hilarious for her to be so hung up on having it when she doesn’t even actually sound like she wants to.

When I first met the guy I’m seeing, she’d also met someone on a dating app around the same time, and had the gall to say to me (before even actually MEETING this man): “you might have sex before me, but I’ll probably have a boyfriend before you” which just—? She didn’t say it in a catty tone. She truly said it as if she was acknowledging the weather—like it was a neat little observation. But it felt so incredibly mean. Like, that’s an inside thought. I’d already done more physically than her AND had a boyfriend (even if I hardly counted it), which meant she was only counting like, since we’d known each other. And it just felt like “you might have someone who wants to fuck you before me, but I’m gonna have someone actually WANT me before you”, which wasn’t even true because the guy I’m with has wanted me since the jump, sex or no. If I hadn’t dug my heels in about it, he would’ve been my “boyfriend” in a heartbeat, but I have reservations for a myriad of life reasons. And she knew I’d just been involved with a guy in December who I had wanted to be my boyfriend very badly. Regardless, it just felt like a shitty, weird thing to say to someone.

In a similar vein, around the beginning of the year, we watched a movie—some kind of Hallmark-esque Christmas film where the lead girl has an enchanted advent calendar that gives her a boyfriend. I made some kind of joke like “damn, I need one of those” and she agreed she did too, and then goes: “wait, no! You’ve been involved with someone more recently than me! It’s my turn!” And like, maybe it was supposed to be funny, but why, even as a joke, are you acting like we can’t both have and both deserve someone? As if we can’t both be in a relationship at the same time or something? It’s “her turn”—as if I had to wait for her turn to have mine again? Not to mention, my “turns” had hardly amounted to anything at all, and I’m older than her and have waited longer for it. She could’ve left the joke at “haha me too” and called it a day.

Instead of finding common ground in these moments, she wants to make it divisive, and I don’t get why. It could’ve been like “oh, isn’t it so cool that we both met someone at the same time?” or “haha yeah, I hope we both meet someone soon!”—having her be needlessly cutting and competitive in those ways has made me less than charitable toward her.

And then there are nights like tonight—I’ve had to hear about how Wednesday is “our” night to spend together, and how she doesn’t see me much anymore and doesn’t feel “like a priority”. And every week, I have to hear about how she doesn’t want to go to Singo. She can’t wait to get home and read. She’ll read AT Singo, on her phone. Tonight, she brought an honest-to-God book. To a BAR.

How in the fuck are we supposed to visit while we play a game where there’s loud music AND you’re reading? And on top of it, she got all buddied up with a girl sitting on her other side at the bar, and I couldn’t hear the conversation, so I couldn’t be in on it, obviously. She’s cutting up and having a great time with her, and occasionally checking in with me. And THEN, some other girl comes up to talk to her after seeing her book and they chit chatted and exchanged numbers.

And lord help me, I am a horrible person. Because I’ve been hoping to make new friends considering her friendship usually just makes me feel bad, but every girl I’ve met lately is in their early twenties like her, and I’ve had enough issues with her emotional immaturity. I’d like to make friends my own age. So how come it just falls in her lap and not mine? It made me so irrationally angry. I think some of that is period hormones, but they don’t usually do me quite like that.

It’s like, fundamentally, we have a lot of interests and feelings and experiences in common. But she’s mean-spirited, and selfish, and bossy, and demanding. She thinks the world should revolve around her and she should be catered to. She’s so contrarian and hypocritical and condescending, and she still has that teenage fixation on how she’s so ~different~ from everyone else. She’s weirdly rigid—I offered to help her clean her previous apartment when she was moving out, and she wanted to instruct me on how to clean it—my space is literally always cleaner than hers. My standard of HYGIENE is higher than hers. She doesn’t even brush her teeth or shower daily, apparently???

We made plans to go out to eat recently and then watch a movie at her place, and I asked where she wanted to eat, and she spieled off something about her side of town vs. my side of town, but since she was going to Michael’s after work, we could go wherever, maybe I should pick a place between both of us (for context, we live less than ten minutes apart. I work right next to Michael’s, close to where she lives, and she works closer to where I live, but again: probably like a 6-8 minute drive). I would’ve literally driven us the next town over. I don’t care. She always says how she wants to do more things, fun things, but in reality she doesn’t want to stray from her like, 3 mile radius and her little routines.

She wants to invite me to her house after work often and not offer food. If I invite her over, I make sure there are things to eat, whether that’s snacks or a meal. She once invited me after work and was like “you don’t have to stay long, I know you’ll be hungry” and I showed up and she was eating her dinner. She grew up in poverty and has food insecurity, and I get that, but like—you can’t be for real. Inviting someone to your house because you want their company, knowing they haven’t eaten in hours, and eating in FRONT of them? To her credit, she did offer a piece of brownie, but then—in her own words—gave me the little piece of the two she cut.

And she lies—about the WEIRDEST stuff. Maybe not even lies so much as makes excuses, but like, once recently she came to my house for dinner and left like RIGHT after, because it was 6:30 and “getting dark soon.” She hates driving at night (she hates driving at all but). For the record, it’s summer and doesn’t get dark until like 9. Even my grandma thought it was rude and called her out and then she goes “well, my cat doesn’t like being alone during thunderstorms”—it wasn’t even raining. It’s cool if you just wanna be home, but please. If you’re gonna make excuses, be better at it.

She made a massive deal about how I slept in the car on our way home from the Taylor Swift concert. HER fault. She’d planned for us to stay with a friend of hers (a term I use loosely because she doesn’t like this girl at all—thinks she’s super catty and bitchy), and at last minute decides she simply cannot stay there, and we leave at fucking four in the morning. I’m so exhausted I physically cannot keep my eyes open even though I fight like hell to. She wakes me up close to my house and is like “when we get to your house, you gotta get your stuff and go”—as if I don’t want to get out and go to bed?

Later, I confronted her about it (among other things) and she says how I just don’t understand how bad her driving anxiety is (me, who literally wasn’t driving until a few months ago and her, who when I tried to use it as a point of common ground early in our friendship, insisted she didn’t have issues with it) and it’s so bad she can’t sleep in the car when someone else is driving, how she ALWAYS stays awake on trips to help keep the driver awake, and how I literally fell over on her arm (ACROSS THE CONSOLE?) and she couldn’t move me because she had her hands on the wheel.

I’ve slept in the car a LOT in my life, and never once have I leaned across the whole ass console. I either sit up straight with my neck lolling everywhere (most common) or end up with my head against the door. There’s just zero way that happened and I didn’t feel it, no matter how tired I was.

Anyway, a few weeks later, her and her mom take a trip out of state, and they’re talking on the phone after she gets back. Her mom is giving her shit for sleeping for the whole car ride and she’s like “I wasn’t driving! What did you expect?” Oh… so you do sleep in the car, then. And by the way, her mom is the scariest driver I’ve ever ridden with. So cars are sooo scary that you can’t sleep in them, except with your mom, who is the worst driver I’ve ever met. The math isn’t mathing here.

AND THEN—she’d made sure to let me know how much it stressed her out for me to confront her about how I’d been feeling (because we texted over the period of a work day about it) and how I should’ve “spoken up sooner”, and then recently, in light of our other friend getting a boyfriend and dropping off the face of the planet, I wanted to make sure she wasn’t feeling neglected now that I’m seeing someone, and she said she didn’t, but she also didn’t feel prioritized. Which is not what I asked. We’re friends, and we both work full time. We have standing once a week plans. And when I asked her what she meant, she said something about how anytime she brings something up with me that’s about me and not her, I make it about her and not me, and how she didn’t want to elaborate on that. That we were fine as far as she was concerned, and we’d eventually talk about it. So she couldn’t handle one DAY of me trying to phrase things tactfully, but has this hanging over my head like a guillotine for weeks. And it’s even funnier because she said “when she brings something up” except she never has. The conversation I brought to her is the ONLY one we’ve ever had in that vein. So for her to imply that I like, shift blame and don’t take accountability was so immensely shitty and not even true.

If I were a pettier person, I would call her out on her bullshit as these things happen. This is a short list of a litany. Or I would say mean things back—like how not only did I have sex first, but I also fell in love first. But I don’t.

I’ve considered not being her friend multiple times. Since we’ve become friends, she’s continually made me feel left out, confused, and like a petty little baby because it triggers feelings I haven’t felt since I was a literal child. She reminds me of my dad. He’s the only other person I’ve ever struggled THIS hard to just get along with. And sometimes, she’s great, and I wonder how there’s even an issue.

But I think it boils down to that—if I cut two pieces of something, I will always, without thought, give the larger serving to the other person. She very intentionally gave me the smaller one, knowing I was hungry, and I think that speaks to who we are as people. And I understand that experiences shape who we are, and I see from her family dynamic where a lot of her behavior comes from, but the reality is, I am a giver, and she is a taker, and the balance there just doesn’t work. It’s tedious and exhausting, and what good is being friends with someone when it stresses you out more than it ever feels good?

It doesn’t make me feel supported or cared for or loved. It makes me feel alienated and unchosen and used. One day, I will learn how to navigate things like this better.

I don’t know why I struggle so much with the idea that I can have good friends. This time last year, I had only JUST met the ones I have now. And I had no romantic prospects at all. Things can happen quickly when they do. I just need to allow myself to believe in them.

[not-alien-girl-v]

Tate story I am sorry I don’t have a name for it yet

Warning: Language

Note: Hello! So this story is based off the concept of reality shifting, but I took some specifics on the basics of the concept from a oneshot series by @toomanyfandoms02 , so definitely go read that if you’re a fan of MGG, it’s called The Transporter. Also I kinda hate this chapter but it will get better I swear

I still remember the day things changed. I was in English class, 6th period, when Mr. Rove sat down at his desk, a bedazzled expression as he explained to us the news: traveling dimensions was now a possibility.

Students turned to each other, chatting about, every single detail of their ideal universe being put into words with each other, but I kept my ideas to myself. Not to say I didn’t have any, because I did. Sure, it was a very vague idea, but I set it aside in my mind, as I did to every unrealistic desire I’d accumulated over the years, like being a bestselling author.

I knew I certainly had the capability to write a story, maybe even a good one at that, but I’d never write something irresistibly readable. Something so interesting, so complex and beautiful that it could reach the minds of many.

“This is shit,” Mr. Rove confirmed my sneaking suspicion that day in his office. In his large hands, he held my submission for the school’s writing contest. The winner would receive a $10,000 scholarship to their college of choice, something I desperately needed.

It’s not that I didn’t have the money. In fact, my father was a world renowned scientist, making a fuckton of money and refusing to let me take advantage of that.

I get it, he came from the bottom and made it to the top with no help from a rich parent, and he wants me to be the same: a successful, self made individual, but I have to say, paying for your own dinners, clothes, electronics etc sucks when you are only old enough to make minimum wage.

All those daddy’s money girls I go to school with do annoy me, and for that, I get where he’s coming from. But I’m far from them.

As for what Mr. Rove said to me, it’s not something I didn’t already know. I could easily tell the story was no good. I felt like it was shit the whole writing it, it’s no big surprise that it wasn’t worthy of winning the contest.

“I know,” I spoke honestly. I wasn’t going to bullshit him about this, I sucked and I knew it.

He leaned back in exasperation, running a hand through his dark hair and sighing. Placing the paper back on his desk, “I mean, come on. The main girl is too dumb. Why does she keep going back to camp every year when someone always gets murdered? No one wants to read something so frustrating and predictable. Horror is about suspense, and there’s nothing in this. My 3 year old daughter probably could have written this thing as a shitty picture book.”

Harsh. He could have at least spared some feelings. “That was rude. I’m a child, you know. Your my teacher you’re supposed to be nice to me. What would the principal have to say about your awful bedside manner?”

“Okay, fine. Turn this in to the contest, see yourself lose the scholarship, and end up working 9 to 5 at McDonalds.”

I pursed my lips and stared him down in defeat. “That’s what I thought,” he continued.

That was a month ago, and the application deadline closes at the end of summer, giving me roughly 2 and a half months to write this story. No problem right?

Wrong. Big problem. Summer is finally here - as of today - and I still have little to no idea what I’m doing with this new story I was demanded to write by Mr. Rove.

Now here I am, one foot after another on the hot concrete, and I can tell it’s scalding because Chuck Taylor shoes do nothing to protect your feet from things like the burning pavement on a hot summer day.

My forehead is dripping and as is every part of my body I could possibly generate sweat from (which is everywhere, as I’m now learning) and it is no picnic. Days like this make me wish I hadn’t quit my job to ‘pursue writing’ or whatever stupid reason it was. I’m buying my own car, or at least I will be once I find the money for it.

The walk to my home, near excruciating, finally ends after I scramble around my purse for my house keys, entering the bliss of air conditioning. I close my eyes and slide down the wall, almost comedically and I nearly cry at the sensation.

Sweat in my eyes, my mouth, the tips of my fingers slowly drying cool, leaving me with a bitter stench left behind.

The house I live in is probably the only thing in my life that reflects my father’s success. It’s three stories, in a rich neighborhood and with an indoor pool. It would be nice if my father were every around to enjoy it.

The note on the fridge reads ‘big news, call me’. School is over, I have no homework and nothing to do but procrastinate with this story I’m writing, so I call him right away.

Two rings, “Hello?”

“Hey dad, it’s me, what’s the news?” I have now moved up to my room, climbing in the stairs not dissimilar to the trek up Mount Everest, and sink down into my desk chair.

“We did it! We figured it out!” He exclaims and I can swear I hear his happy dance over the phone.

“So it was you. I should have figured.” My father is a genius, a scientist, and as of today, one of the inventors of multi-universal travel.

“Yeah, boss put it on the news! But it doesn’t end there, not for you.”

“Oh?”

“Nope, you, my sweet daughter, are going to be one of the first test subjects!”

I am forcefully silenced. The air has permanently left my lungs and at the moment, I have no reason to believe it will ever return. I inhale, oh there it is again.

“Did you hear me? I volunteered you. This is going to be an amazing opportunity for you, you’ll get to experience what it’s like to live as an individual in the lower class. You know how important it is to hear every side of the economical story to be a true philanthropist-“

“Dad?” I interrupt.

“Yes?”

“You didn’t even ask me about this? You’re just deciding that I’m going to participate in leaving this dimension? All for what? To become a better person? To complete this narrative of a humble rich girl?”

Now he’s in silence.

“I gave you this opportunity because it’s a once in a lifetime event. You should be grateful for this, do you even know how many girls would kill to do what you’re about to?”

“What will I be getting from this? All I’m hearing is what you’re benefiting, but what would be in any of this for me?”

He pauses to think. “How about I make you a deal. If you agree to this under my terms, I’ll let you choose what reality you shift to. How about that?”

“And?”

Sighing, “and if you do this, I’ll… get you a car.”

I jump up out of my chair. “Seriously?”

“Yes. But only if you agree to it right now.”

“What would happen if I didn’t?”

“You’d still be doing this anyway, but I get to choose where you’re going. Plus no car.”

Grinning, I reply, “you’ve got yourself a deal! When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. And try not to eat anything within the next 12 hours, most of the rats we tested on threw up a little during the shift. Love you, bye!”

“Wait what-“ But he’s already hung up on me. Well, there goes my summer. Or maybe time will just pause when I leave, I don’t know. But what I do know is that I need to talk about this.

___

“Have I mentioned how much I’m in love with Tate Langdon?” Del asks. She’s spread out on my bed, scrolling through my Tumblr, after making the executive decision to follow the Tate Langdon tag on my account.

“Maybe once or twice. One more time for good measure?” I joke from my floor where my existential crisis is occurring.

“He’s the love of my life!” She squeals. I don’t say anything. I love Del, but whenever she gets like this, I feel it best to let her get it all out.

“Can I ask you something?” I speak, nearly groaning my words out with a scratchy voice.

“Shoot.”

“You know how they figured out reality shifting?”

“Of course, it’s all over practically everything.”

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

“American Horror Story, duh! Do you even have to ask me that, come on Clara, catch up,” she laughs. I hum.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck that Tate guy,” I accuse her with a giggle.

“It’s so much more than that. The storyline is so amazing, and the characters, so complex, as long as it would be assured I couldn’t die or get hurt, I’d love to live in a horror universe like that. You could probably do good there too. Maybe in a place like that, you could find some inspiration for your story.”

People should stop saying shocking things to me today, because I keep finding myself in an uncomfortable silence, mouth agape and mind exploded. I sit up.

“Del, I’m going on a trip this summer.”

“Wow a trip? Geez, Clara spare some details, would ya?” She jokes.

“It has something to do with my dad’s work. You know he has to keep it private, government classified and whatever the fuck. You just need to know that I’m leaving tomorrow morning, and I probably won’t be able to contact you for a good long while.”

“Is this your creative way of saying I need to go home now?” She is already up off my bed, not waiting for an answer and slipping on her shoes.

“Yes. I’m up early, so I need a good nights rest.”

“Alright, alright, I’m out, I’ll see you whenever your… trip… is over,” she cackles and I hear it travel down my staircase and out the front door.

___

I’m oh so delicately greeted with the most beautiful noise in the world: my alarm clock, blaring in my sleeping ear at 4am.

Since I spoke with my father, he miraculously suddenly became insanely busy, too busy to return any further calls or texts from me, so I’ve been exchanging words with his assistant, Laura.

Laura said not to dress up for the occasion, that I’ll have clothes of my own in whatever reality I choose, so there’s no need to be flashy or pack anything sentimental.

My stomach rumbles in my stomach and I sit at the kitchen table, staring down an apple in the fruit bowl like it owes me money. I can’t, I shan’t, I mustn’t. But fuck, I really want to. I stand up and leave the room, not needing to get overwhelmed just yet today. I’m sure I can find other reasons to freak out later, so I’m saving my energy.

I took Laura’s advice, so I’m wearing sweat pants and a band T-shirt. I hear a honk outside, signaling that the woman in question is now here to take me to a facility which will ultimately lead to the exit of this reality that I’ve called home my entire life. Big shit, don’t think about it.

I run outside, nothing but my phone and wallet in pocket, past the gate around the front yard, into the front seat of Laura’s car. “Good morning, Clara,” she cheerfully greets, too cheerfully for 4 in the morning, in my book.

“Mm,” I groan in response. Adding on, “Will I be able to die?”

“In the other reality?” She grips the steering wheel equally with both hands at 10 and 2, like a professional would.

“No, in Australia,” I deadpan.

“No, you won’t be able to die. You’ll be entering a version of your universe of choice where you can’t die, so you won’t be able to stay there for the rest of your life, of course. You can get hurt, however, so be weary, as always. And one more thing, you cannot let anyone know you’ve come from a different universe. They haven’t discovered this technology in that reality yet, so a lot of things will be incorrectly shifted if you let anyone know you’re not from there.”

She fits this all into one breath, not sounding winded in any way, she must talk a lot normally. “Just out of curiosity, what universe have you decided on?”

“You ever see American Horror Story?” I ask.

“I’ve heard of it. A fine choice, however you’ll need to be very careful you don’t get hurt. Don’t get on anyone’s bad side.”

“Isn’t that the truth in any universe?”

“What year would you be planning on shifting to?” She seems to be having none of my bullshit this morning.

“2009. LA. I want to live in the murder house.”

“Oh… are you sure?” I can tell she’s trying her hardest not to send me an odd look with how carefully she’s focusing on the road now.

“Completely.” I am stern and unmoving. I can’t die, what’s the harm? Del was probably right, as she often is, through all the madness she spews.

She inhales sharply and it almost sounds like it hurts, “well, alright. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

___

Now here I stand, in front of this machine that will supposedly allow me to shift realities. Of course I have full trust in my fathers technology, I have no reason not to, I just thinking the entire concept has yet to absorb in my mind.

I’m leaving this universe, and quite frankly, I have no say in it at all.

“Are you ready?” Laura is standing in a separate room, behind a protective glass window, like an X-Ray technician.

On the way in here, I was fortunate enough to meet some of the other test subjects. A young woman named Natalia, a man named Arthur, and a girl named Sophia. They were all around 18-20, making me wonder why young people are the only ones being selected for this experiment. Perhaps it has something to do with the toll on the body.

“Yes.”

“Al-“ I cut Laura off.

“Will it hurt?” I pick at my nails. I’m more nervous than I let on, and my stomach is burning and twisting inside my abdomen.

“It will be a little uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt, promise.”

Though she said she promised, it somehow brought me no relief at all. Either way, I was ready. I wish my dad were here right now. Seems like the type of thing to be present for.

I step into the machine, and it’s reminiscent to a cheesy time machine from an old Hollywood movie. A vivid image appears of the machine shaking, sputtering and smoking, before eventually comedically falling apart with me still in it.

I giggle at my own imagination, and get myself comfortable. I was informed of the specifics of my conditions once I shift. I will be an orphan (thanks a lot, dad) who lives with a foster family in the murder house. I will have two foster parents, and two foster brothers, aged 12 and 14.

I see Laura behind the glass typing something into a big board with a lot of buttons, like I’m in a recording studio and she’s my producer behind the glass. I close my eyes for a moment and begin to feel a terrible sick feeling in my stomach. Like when you go on those rollercoasters that bring you up super high then suddenly drop, and you feel like all your guts might just ooze out of your pores.

I keep my eyes closed and don’t dare to open them until the queasy feeling slowly fades, and I don’t hear the chatter of the other three test subjects from the next room. In fact, the air conditioning I was previously surrounded by in the lab has disappeared, and I feel hot sunlight beaming down on my skin.

“Clara! Get in here!”

I open my eyes now. Here I am, standing out front the house, exact to the TV show, and I would know, Del made me watch it roughly a thousand times.

I feel the sun on the tops of my arms, my legs, and it’s apparent that I’m not wearing the same outfit I left in. Now, I sport a tank top and dark jean shorts with sheer black tights underneath, and a number of bracelets trailing up both my arms.

I look up at the house, massive and astounding in front of me. There’s an open window on the second floor, and I see a glimpse of a young blond boy staring down at me, but he walks away before I can really see him.

[lovee-infected]

So Merlin the goddamn great, smh but no ROOK LORE I AM FURIOUS! I STILL WANT TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS

Warning: Spoiler alert!

Oooooofff the final episodes of chapter 5 did seriously explode the fandom I see, from the overblot Grim to our twst Merlin, everything literally everything about the end of this chapter was a big surprise but... This chapter has also brought up a considerably huge wave of drama along with it, which is basically because of Rook voting for RSA instead of NRC. I, personally, considered it to be just a reason to laugh and make a meme or two about this chapter and all. But looking at the fandom, I can clearly see that it's been causing some serious consequences, some fans/creators are leaving the fandom, there has been a couple of offensively worded Rook hate posts (small memes and jokes aren't counted) and there's ever a #RookIsOverParty on Twitter now.

Okay but, it was all cool and chill until it was just a joke. Can't you see? This happens in many fandoms! And is often a good chance to laugh! But...This is getting serious. A huge majority of this fandom (even Rook/Vil shippers and Rook stans themselves) are hating on Rook/Rook stans and fans are leaving, therefore I believe the situation needs to be clarified before it leads to more dramas.

Many of you had also requested a Rook analysis before sooooo- here we go!

First off, this episode did eventually give us a considerable amount of Rook lore although it wasn't as perfect as we wanted it to be. Most of us wanted to get to know him more, but I'd say focusing on all we've got already would do for now. But before that, let's talk about what exactly happened in chapter 5 and why are fand hating on Rook rn:

after the performances are voted on, it’s revealed that nrc lost to rsa by just a single vote. that vote turned out to be rook, who voted for rsa in favor of their own team as he was moved by their spirit. the whole nrc team is shellshocked (of course) and vil faints

it’s also later revealed that rook is one of neige’s biggest fans, possessing albums full of his bromides, going to each meet and greet, and even writing him anonymous fan letters.

Okay okay I know this was quite unexpected and resulted in NRC's loss, but before you say how much of a shitty character Rook is consider this:

1) He was totally honest with his opinion and thoughts.

One of the interesting facts regarding Rook's character design and presence in chapter 5, is how he played the role of both the huntsman and the mirror.

He was honest with his beliefs and decision, although it was against his friends. Just as how the mirror introduced Snow White as the fairest one of all although Evil Queen didn't want to hear of her.

This is also what Rook did, he judged based on his idealistics towards beauty. NOT because he's a screaming Neige fanboy and NOT because he disliked Vil.

Honestly, if there's one person whose judgement would be strong and on point, that'll be Rook and only him; in parts (2) & (4) we'll explain why.

2) His decision has nothing to do with his personal relationship with Vil!

Yes, he voted for RSA, but to assume that this means he secretly preferred Neige over Vil all this time and call him a betrayer now, that's wrong.

Look, if there one person who could judge NRC's process through the training sessions fairly, that'll be Rook. He's been there all this time, watching each and every second of Vil's coaching and team's progressing, note that he also helped Vil the most, this performance would've been impossible without his help!

But, he was also there when Vil lost it, when Vil's fear of not being the winner took over him and made him even try to poison Neige. At some point Vil was nothing like the perfect coach he was at the very beginning, and if Rook hadn't told Neige to escape who knows how terrible the whole think might've gone.

His decision, on the other hand, was HIS decision. He was asked to choose one performance, and he chose what he liked; that's all, no big deal. Note that the silly thing with the whole issue isn't mainly how Rook voted for RSA, it's also about how half of the audience as well voted for RSA which makes it sound almost stupid, this point will be explained in part (5)!

3) Have you all really forgotten what Rook is like?

I mean, come on this is what he is in general! This is Rook Hunt we're speaking of, one of the rarely known characters of the game and mister of surprises and unpredictable decisions!

Him being a Neige fan is no big deal, and I assure you, he probably stans a lot of other people else than Neige too. Don't forget that this is the same monseiur Rook who gave 100 points! to anyone who participated in NRC's VDC test, so there shouldn't really be a panic taking all over the fandom just because we know he stans Neige, Rook is one to greatly appreciate the concept of beauty in general, and Neige is one of the most famous and beautiful people in the whole twisted wonderland, so other than this being much of a snow white reference, it was totally expected to see him stanning Neige as well. Keep this in mind that just because he's a fan of Neige, it doesn't mean that he hates or he has betrayed Vil.

In Rook's point of view, there is no such thing as rivals in beauty, he just appreciates both Vil and Neige's beauty regardless of what's going on between them.

4) This chapter proved that Rook is indeed a perfect friend for Vil.

While there hasn't ever been a mention of a canon relationship between Vil and Rook, shipper may be happy to know that this episode didn't sink the ship at all. And if you judge and see through what happened in the right eye, you'll see it even shows how strong their friendship is.

Note that this wasn't the first time Rook criticizes Vil either, back in Vil's SR lab coat story he openly criticized Vil and said he's gonna get fat if he continued to eat like this. See? Rook never the once lied to Vil, he openly judges him, and his judgements are logical and on point.

Vil on the other hand is always working his hardest to improve, to become better and completer by each and every day that passes. He needs such a friend by his side to judge him nonetheless, a friend to judge him just like the mirror judged the Queen. But there's a difference, Vil accepts and appreciates criticism BECAUSE, he wants to improve.

A friend like Rook is seriously what he needs, Rook supported and helped him all the way as RSA was getting prepared for VDC, he could've just made them lose and by ruining their training sessions if he wanted to! Can't you see? He helped Vil more than anyone else, but didn't lie to him when it was the time to judge. Vil still has a long way to go, and Rook is aware. He wants Vil to see that he isn't yet complete so that he can become better than he already is.

That's it, that's what a real friend would do.

5) Twst needs to be more considerative toward story line and sudden reveals.

On the one hand, it's mainly fans who are exaggerating the whole issue and starting drama over a simple voting and all, but twst itself as well is partly guilty. This is such a huge and active fandom, each and every detail about the story can be super effective (ex: Sebek being half human, Malleus being an orphan, etc). After making RSA's Yahoo performance look super silly they worst thing they could do was to make NRC lose like this, meaningless, silly and helpless. Why?

Twst seriously needs to take details more seriously as they could've AT LEAST made this comparison sound reasonable by choosing a better and stronger song than a twisted version of Heigh-Ho.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with Rook voting for Neige, but seriously? Rook voting for Neige had to be a symbol of honesty and Rook's loyalty toward the concept of beauty itself and not Vil, not an stupid decision to make Rook prefer a childish song over NRC's wonderful performance and look like a helpless Neige fan boy.

-Sigh- Well, I guess that's all I had for now, hope I didn't miss anything. But anyway, the Rook drama is slowly getting overwhelming. There's nothing wrong with memes and jokes AS LONG AS THEY'RE JUST A JOKE- offending characters with clear intention and causing drama because of it is not okay. I know that was unexpected please remember not to exaggerate the story too much either!

[bakugohoex]

looove your blog keep up the amazing work 😙✌🏽 anywho fic where people in UA still think shinsou's quirk is scary and they avoid him as much as possible bc they're scared he might activate it + that makes him sad but reader isn't scared of him at all !! and she always talks to him/hangs with him etc.. and he like low-key falls in love w her

”why aren’t you scared of me?”

pairing: hitoshi shinso x female reader

cw: language, slight angst, fluff, kissing

word count: 4000+

a/n: umm this is weird and i got rid of the joint traning arc and mina and momo are being bitches and it’s just me waffling at 00:30 so yeah have fun to the people awake reading this also thank you so much for the support

summary: in which shinso joins class 1a and whilst everybody seems to be scared of him out of fear he’ll use his quirk, you try to befriend the boy and he develops feelings as soon as you talk to him.

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

His arrival into the class was shocking to say the least, the small whispers between your classmates and the fear that flushed through their eyes. Except you, you were intrigued by the boy, having seen his quirk at the sports festival you had seen how he used it against Midoriya. His soft violet hair looked a mess but a cute mess to say the least, his dull eyes and grey marks underneath his eyes melted your insides.

“You can sit behind Y/n.” You smiled to signify you were Y/n and he looked down walking past your classmates.

The whispers all in ear shot, you could see his eyes fall but didn’t say anything about it. Him, swiftly taking the seat right behind you, Aizawa had let the class talk among themselves and the fact nobody had come to talk to the boy. Hurt you a lot more than you wished, “y/n, we’re having that movie night next Sunday.”

“I can’t wait.” You turned around to meet the boy, “you’re invited as well.”

He gazed up catching your eyes, your knuckles were white due to the grip on the chair, and you stared with utter confidence. Mina having been the one to ask, she gave a side eye at what you had just said but didn’t bother making a remark.

Shinso answered with a, “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“No, it’s fine, I want you to come.” You had never been this confident but at how he had been ignored by the rest of the class it jolted something inside of you, “we can have lunch together as well.”

“Okay.” It was blunt and Momo this time had come up to you.

She stood in front of you, ignoring the boy, you could see how tense she was at the close proximity between them. She gestured for you to get up, but you ignored her action, “I’ll talk to you later.” You spoke continuing to ignore her pleas, was she really scared of him?

Were they all really that scared of him?

“You can go to your friends; you don’t need to be some sort of pity party.” Shinso muttered, stretching back and leaning against his chair.

Wide eyed, you tilted your head to be placed on the back of your hands, “I’m not a pity party, I want to be friends.”

“Friends, your class hates me.” He looked up and down, your skirt had ridden up and he could see a scar that you had probably gotten from someone’s quirk.

You roll you eyes giving the boy a smirk, “they don’t hate you.” .

“Really?” He gushes out knowing it’s the truth.

“Yes, stop worrying.” It was concerning how easy you two could converse, and your friends were ever so afraid. His gaze watching every one of your features, they assumed he was thinking of how to taint you, but all the saw was a tenderness comfort from you.

You noticed Ectoplasm come through the door ready to teach the hated maths lesson, “be warned if you get a question wrong, he will glare at you.” You gestured to the man and Shinso’s lip twitched upwards.

“Maybe it’s just because you get the questions wrong.” Shinso remarked back, urning a small slap on the arm to him.

His could feel the tip of his ears redden at how your hand had touched his arm, even though the fabric, your hand had lingered before hearing the sound of the lesson starting. You turned back around trying to look and concentrate on the board but all you could really think about was the boy. He was sweet, he understood your humour and he was nice, and you had no idea where there seemed to be an air of terror around the room.

Lunch had finally arrived just as you were getting your stuff, “Y/n, let’s go to next lunch.” This time it was Midoriya who had spoken, he had fought Shinso and knew everything about him. Seeing you be so friendly to someone who had a quirk like him, it made the green haired boy anxious.

“I’m having lunch with Shinso actually” You took your bag, standing up and allowing Shinso to have a full view of your frame, the loose tie around the white shirt, the thigh highs encasing your legs and making your thighs suffocate between the fabric.

He saw the way the class was looking at the scene and he became angry, maybe even upset. Did they really fear him this much, think he’d become some sort of villain and he’d taint you.

You started walking before waiting, “come on then.” It felt like being beckoned but he followed nevertheless, meeting your gaze and walking past the class with you.

“She’s too nice for her own good.” Mina spoke walking out with Momo.

Momo nodded watching how you stood close to the boy, “he might hurt her, we need to keep an eye on them.”

“What if he’s already in her mind?” Mina spoke callously, it was unknown for the two of them to act like this. But they had seen the festival, and they has seen the look on Midoriya’s eyes when he was being brainwashed. You were too nice, everybody knew that, but you had always been infatuated with his quirk from the first time you saw him use it. You hadn’t fought against him during the sports festival but had made it to the same stage he had.

He wouldn’t have paid attention to you, wouldn’t have looked and watched your fight, you weren’t anybody important. “I bet you’re happy you got moved into our class.” Both of you were rounding a corner and you had been telling him about the classmates, but all he could think about was the hate and disgust he had seen in their eyes.

“Yeah, too bad you’ll probably be my only friend.” He shrugs pulling at this tie to loosen due to feeling constricted.

“So we are friends?” He heard the sign of your chuckle and took a heavy breathe, it was soft and warm, filled with a tender kindness he had never experienced before.

He didn’t meet your gaze, “shut up.” He could almost feel your smile on him, turning to meet your gaze, he was going to be friends with you. He knew that, but was still fearful you’d leave him, leave and be afraid of his quirk.

“I shouldn’t have made you have lunch with me, you probably have your own friends from general studies.” You scratched the back of your head looking forward towards the main hall, you both walked towards the food a hunger taking over you.

He captures your eyes beginning to speak, “not really, I used them a lot in the festival and I guess they got pissed.”

He followed you to the empty seat, sitting opposite you as you picked at your food, “well what did you expect, dumbass.” He gave a low chuckle watching how your hair bounced in place and how you licked your lips after taking a bite of the rice.

“I remember seeing your fight, it was good, too bad you lost.” He taunted back; you rolled your eyes gently kicking his leg from underneath the table. Another flush had erupted from his face feeling your leg graze his own.

“It wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t touch her to use my quirk, she kept hitting me.” You whined, he smiled at the action, it was cute, but he was never going to admit that.

Instead raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms whilst leaning back he watched you, “okay then, what is this quirk of yours, I better be impressed.”

“Give me your hand.” He gave a wary look, “I’m not going to break your hand.”

He scoffed, putting his hand out, the rest of the class had arrived a couple minutes prior and had seen the two of you. “I don’t understand why you lot are scared of brainwashing kid, you’re all just pussy’s.” Bakugo stormed walking to another table with Kirishima, Sero and Denki.

All four had to admit his quirk was good, even Bakugo who would say it was shitty. They didn’t really care, and Denki could see him as the popular kid who’d he want to be friends with. The four hadn’t gone up to him due to seeing the glares that you had gotten and the glare of Mina’s that felt ice cold.

Most of them believed fear had caught up but how could they live in fear of the boy when he was in their class permanently. What could they do but see him try to integrate more into the class, Kirishima had even felt happy that you had invited him even after Mina and Momo’s look of horror.

Mina had gone to sit with the girls who seemed a lot more hatred to the boy, you understood Izuku’s anxiousness, but he’d get over it when he got more comfortable. You knew the class would be fine, after these months with them all, they’d be fine hopefully. The girls had watched him put his hand out and your fingers grazing his palms, they had no reason but fear that filled them, one of their close friends getting close with a boy with a quirk like his. It was a recipe for disaster.

“What is she doing?” Jirio asked, she didn’t have the same hatred as Momo, and Mina did. But that was only due to you being closer with the latter.

“Showing her quirk.” Hagakure spoke being able to see a lot more than the others by being the closest to the two of you.

Mina’s eyes widened, “why would she do that?”

The lack of response made it seem more like there was more fear from her than anybody else. Of course she would feel like this, she had seen you grow and been there for you and she didn’t want some stupid brainwashing boy to make you a villain. She hadn’t realised her thoughts, how inconsiderate she had been, he wasn’t a villain but why did she believe it so much. Having seen him control Midoriya it was frightening and now here you were sitting in front of him without acknowledging the fear.

“Basically if I touch any matter really, I can control it, so I touched your hand now…” You had stopped speaking letting your mind go blank as you thought for him to wave at you, “see.”

His eyes widened it was like his, it was something similar not exactly the same. But he felt his chest go heavy, he had fallen for you, from the way you spoke to having seen your fight and see you defeated. He had to admit he thought you were an arrogant weakling but now after you had so effortlessly become friends with him, he felt something a lot more for you.

“Shinso.” The sound of your voice saying his name, drove him wild and he couldn’t move, frozen at how you had spoke so smoothly, how his name on your lips was so effortless and seductive. He might sometimes be coy, but he was blunt but at this moment he couldn’t speak out of fear of losing something potential.

“Sorry.” It was a mutter and you shrugged it off taking him to where training would be.

Having changed into your hero costume you saw Shinso with the detachable mask around his mouth. He walked closer to you, but saw how your friends had come over quickly, he didn’t take a step forward standing still. Until Denki had seen him, “hey, I’m Kaminari.”

“Shinso.” The violet haired boy spoke.

Denki began gleefully talking to no end, “…I think your quirk is cool and you look one of those popular boys in Shojo manga.”

“You read Shojo manga.” Shinso spoke visibly confused but intrigued at the boy.

Denki began to save himself by acting cooler than usual, “what you don’t?”

“Nope.” It was another blunt statement; he had easily been able to not been blunt with you, but he was getting anxious at the motives of Denki’s.

“Come to my room tonight, I’ll show you so many.” Denki had easily said, Shinso nodded, he felt relieved that this mornings antics had all be swept away, even seeing Kirishima and Sero coming along dragging Bakugo beside him. They began to converse and Shinso felt relieved but occasionally looked at you, he found your hero costume beautiful, he understood for the lack of clothes due to it being easy to touch stuff with your any part of your body.

He zoned out looking at how your legs were exposed, the white leotard that encased your body and the long white cape that fell from around your neck, it looked moveable and he could see the material to be controllable for you to grab stuff. You looked like an ethereal angel and he if this really was a Shojo manga his nose would be bleeding right about now.

“We’re doing doubles, get into pairs and then join up with another pair.” Shinso noticed how he probably wouldn’t end up with you or one of the boys as they’d partner up together, but Denki had stayed close to him already an acknowledgement that the two were pairs and Sero had gone to pair up with Sato.

You had seen Denki go up to the boy and you knew your assumptions were right, being partnered with Mina would be hard at how she gave fearful remarks of not getting too close to the boy. You were against Momo and Ururaka, it was an ease using and controlling whatever Momo made but you weren’t fully in the fighting spirt. Your gaze on the fight between Kirishima and Bakugo against Shinso and Denki.

“Y/n, pay attention.” Mina chastised, you nodded continuing to stop Ururaka’s aim, it was easy to get close to them and with ease and Mina’s acid you were able to touch them and control them to stop.

It went on like this for a while, you were glad that with timing you didn’t have to go against Midoriya and Todoroki or Bakugo and Kirishima. They’re power was a lot and you really didn’t want to break any bones today, but fate still ended up hating you and the last fight was against Shinso and Denki.

You could almost feel the smirk through the mask, the capturing weapon surrounding his pretty little neck. “Ready to lose Y/n.” You didn’t speak, knowing exactly what he was going to do.

Denki had come full force at the two of you, you quickly with ease touched him as he swung for Mina who slyly escaped using her acid. You brought the boy up, whispering in his ears a few fatal words, before he stormed at Shinso with his quirk. “Using my teammate against me, so callous of you.”

You still hadn’t spoken, Mina hated how he toyed with you but still remained further away that you did.

“Shinso.” Denki shouted but that was Shinso’s cue to use his own quirk, it went on back and forth using Denki before he overexerted himself and stayed on the ground. Knowing you’d have to make this quick, you ran up to the boy ready to touch him.

But you felt the cool alloy wrap around your bones, Aizawa had seen the progress Shinso had made using them and he was impressed. He was still rough and needed a lot more practice, but he was able to hold onto you with confidence. You tried to get out, but he had made your cape wrap around your skin making his scarf able to not be controlled by you, you were all wrapped up for him in a pretty little present.

“Say the magic words.” He mocked out.

You huffed taking a sign before speaking, “let me out…please.”

He let you go and had begun controlling you, bringing you this time closer to his body. “You did good.” He stopped brainwashing you and you came out of your daze.

“Being under you brainwashing is creepily good, it’s like an out of body experience.” You spoke highly praising the boy before hearing Aizawa dismiss you all.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He laughs walking with you to the changing rooms.

You wanted to ask about his new friendships as it seemed to have been him become a lot more comfortable than you had expected, “you made friends with Denki and them lot.”

“Yeah, they seem okay, even that Bakugo he makes some good points, he’s still arrogant though.” You laughed cocking your head back at the remark.

“That describes him to the T.” You partnered ways getting changed and meeting each other outside to walk to the dorms

He spoke about Denki inviting him to read some Shojo manga, and you couldn’t wait to hear that story. He was even your neighbour which you were happy about, knowing that there was only a thin wall between the two of you.

The days continued on as usual, you spending more and more time with Shinso, the class becoming more comfortable with him, even Midoriya was friendly saying Hi’s in the mornings which Shinso would reply with. It seemed like everybody was growing on him, everybody except Mina and Momo, there was a sense of air that you were still infatuated with him.

They remember your exact words from the sports festival, “his quirk looks kind of scary, I’d rather die then fight him.” You had said it jokingly, but they took it literally and couldn’t understand why you were as scared as they were. They saw the look of evil in his eyes, but the class had moved past, and they seemed to be the only ones left. They were your friends, of course they were but the way they had been acting had made you distance yourself just for them to cool off.

Another fast long week had approached, and it was finally time for the movie night that was occurring, Shinso had walked down with you, the purple hoodie encased his frame with the grey joggers. He had been in awe when you came out of your room in shorts and a zip up hoodie seeing the peak of a tank top underneath. You really did look perfect in anything; it was the moment he knew that he had begun falling for you deeper.

“Denki showed me this Shojo manga, he said you’d read it.” You began to think of the manga’s you had read which happened to be a long list. “Kiss him, not me.”

“Oh yeah, it’s sappy, I love it though, we should watch the anime.” You hadn’t realised what you said but it was obviously an invitation into one another’s rooms to watch a romance anime.

Shinso tried to surpress his cheeks from flushing but continued on speaking, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Of course.” You laughed meeting the class who had set up in front of the TV, you grabbed the hoodie sleeve of Shinso’s pushing him onto the end of the sofa as you sat beside him. “Now if I fall asleep, I won’t be embarrassed.”

The thought of you falling asleep on him, made his heart beat. He felt butterflies at how you were already partially leaning against him, he watched Mina and Momo glare from the other side, ignoring it though. The movie had started something Bakugo had chosen after winning rock paper scissors, it was disturbing to say the least and you knew you’d end up falling asleep through the second part of it.

Iida had paused the film for breaks being the efficient man he was, Shinso stayed put as you went to get a glass of water. Mina following, “Y/n, why have you been so distant with me?” She was worried for the friendship, had Shinso made you like this?

“Oh, have I, I didn’t realise.” You speak taking a long sip of the water.

“Yeah, you have, did Shinso do this to you? Are you like under his control?” It was unexpected and you choked on your water in shock.

You were trying to keep a lid on your anger, but you had given up, “Mina stop being a fucking bitch to the boy, he hasn’t done anything to me, everybody has warmed up to him except you and Momo and it’s driving me crazy to have to step on egg shells around you. He isn’t a villain okay.”

Her mouth was wide and at your shouting the class had gathered, even Shinso who had heard the last part. Denki put a reassuring arm on his friends shoulder before waiting for Mina’s reply, who hadn’t realised the presence of others.

“He’s probably controlling everybody Y/n, you told me and Momo you would never want to fight him, why would you say that and befriend him?” You thought back to those words you had said months ago.

“I can say I wouldn’t want to fight him because I’m glad he’s on our side.” You muttered, “he’s not controlling all of, stop acting like this.”

Mina tried to move closer to you, but you put your arm out to stop her, “can’t you see we’re all scared of him; he’s going to end up a villain.”

Shinso broke at those words, he coughed making Mina realise what she had said, the faces of 19 angry faces glaring at her. Shinso began to speak and Mina was scared shitless, “I’m going to head up early.”

“Shin…” He moved past everybody walking away, he wasn’t in the mood for confrontation and now all he could think about was you, why weren’t you scared of him, why were you so kind to him?

You barged past the girl, “don’t fucking talk to me until you apologise to him.” You ran to follow the boy who had already taken the elevator, you thought over the scene and he needed someone.

Walking towards his door, you knocked waiting for him to open it, he looked sad, upset even. You didn’t know what to say seeing his glum face, “she shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s the truth though, isn’t it, I’ll always be seen as a villain.” You went to reach for him, but he took a step backwards, “that’s the thing, I don’t understand though.”

“What, Shinso?” You questioned closing the door and leaning against it.

“Why aren’t you scared of me?” Your eyes widened.

“Why would I ever be scared of you?”

He came close to your smaller frame, his arms crossed above your head leaning down to meet your eyes. “My quirk its not very hero type now is it.”

“Shinso, I never cared about your quirk, yeah its cool but I saw you, for you not your quirk.” You rested your hands on his chest, hoping to bring comfort.

One of his hands, moved to your cheek, caressing it softly and slowly. “I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, it’s fine, I want you to know that I like you for you.” You hadn’t meant for a confession of your crush to come out, but you stopped caring, you liked him, you really did, and you didn’t care if Mina and Momo didn’t. They would have to acknowledge it one way or another.

His other hand moved your hair away from your face, “you’re lucky then.” He moved his face closer to yours, you could smell the caramel popcorn fresh from his breathe.

“Why?” You tilted your head waiting for the gap to close.

Just as his lips skimmed yours, he spoke softly, “that I like you for you t…” He never finished his sentence, instead kissing you softly, your soft lips engulphed within his own. Your hands in his hair as he brought his hands to grip your waist. He felt every inch of you in that one kiss, hearing a soft moan which allowed his tongue to take the lead and make you own submit. It felt intoxicating and heavy, with teeth on teeth and his grip tightening against your waist. He wanted to feel you on him, he didn’t care what the two girls thought of him anymore because he had you and that was all he ever needed.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[cantquitu]

Would you be less annoyed if Florence had been antifeminist throughout her entire career and had never spoken up in support of another woman or to defend herself from bodyshaming by the media? // it results in a different frustration if she had been anti feminist, e.g. “why are you getting roles and being platformed when you have such shitty views and others can act well and be relatable while also bringing progressive values to a regressive industry?” Whereas this situation results in a different type of frustration, namely, “why does misogynist drivel and shaming get a powerful defense when it comes to you but not when it comes at another women much more intensely and you’re, in a way, contributing to it? Isn’t that hypocritical?”

I think a better comparison may be not that she was fully anti-feminist but rather that she generally was not outspoken about online controversies and that she hadn’t just two months prior spoken up about misogynistic controversy for herself. That she is outspoken (about her dress, about her relationship, about her accidental spoiler of Hawkeye, about those pap pics to name a few) but chose silence here is really what bothers me. I would feel differently if, like Olivia, she generally chose to avoid commenting or feeding into media/tabloid rumors at all, and, consistent with that, just did the normal promo cycle, played nice, answered questions, attended events, gave interviews, stayed for the standing ovation to honor the work of everyone involved etc. so as to not give anyone any reason to believe something was wrong or that there was truth to rumors. But silence is not how she generally deals with controversies in media/tabloid in which she’s involved. So I hold her to the standard she set for herself I guess.

I understand what you mean but I just don't feel comfortable with it. It doesn't feel right to use women's feminism against them in this way. Would we hold a man accountable and say, "You're standing by and letting people drag that dude and everyone thinks you hate him. Yet you stuck up for yourself that one time! Hypocrite!"

Of course we'd all feel differently if Florence had "played nice" and did promo for DWD - we wouldn't be having this conversation! :) Her usual outspokenness makes her silence all the more obvious, yes. Her lack of support for Olivia and the film is conspicuous and deliberate. Without knowing her reasons - because she has not indicated any- I think it's shitty of her. But I would think it was shitty whether or not she was generally outspoken .

[evakuality]

Matteo - Episode one

Okay bear with me.  I know I’ve talked about this season a LOT over the last couple of years but I’m not going to do a rewatch (or first watch in some cases) of the Druck seasons and not include this one.  And knowing me, I will be very verbose about this one because I do just love it so much.  Even though I already talked about it at length.

So, to mix things up, I decided to watch this one in real time mode.  Which has been both lovely (revisiting what it was like to follow along with everything back then) and really frustrating (revisiting what it was like to wait for clips back then).  But it’s been a good exercise, particularly with this episode because I didn’t get truly involved in the show til a couple of weeks later so there’s a lot I missed in terms of social media etc the first time around.  So let’s start there.

Social media: It was nice to get the stuff leading in to this season which I hadn’t seen before.  The decisions around moving into the new place and getting Matteo involved etc were all super cute.  I liked the stuff with Sam after her party and how they kept that story - at the time it must really have felt like an immersive thing moving from Mia’s story to Matteo’s.  The stuff around the flatwarming party is interesting too.  Matteo and Sara’s posts make it seem like they’re at two different parties.  Matteo’s has barely and hint of Sara at all whereas hers makes it seem like they were joined at the hip all evening and super happy together.  And then even through the week her things were much more focused on Matteo (and on Leonie’s crush on David) whereas again, with his Sara only comes up if he’s asked about her.  I know it’s very clear in the clips as well, but honestly, the texts and instagram posts etc really make it clear how much she had built this up in her head vs how indifferent he is to it.  One really interesting one is where she asks Leonie not to spread it around that she and Matteo are together.  It suggests that she already knows this isn’t what she wants it to be, but either through desperation or naivety or by lying to herself, Sara doesn’t allow herself to see it.  It’s very sad for her and I do feel for her a lot more than I ever did for Emma.

Clip one: I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again now.  I really really love this clip.  It’s a perfect introduction both to Matteo’s PoV and to all the themes of the season.  Matteo is surrounded by people through the whole thing, and on the surface and from the outside it probably looks like he’s slotted in and having a great time - he talks, he dances, he appears to be having a good time and his social media is curated to make it appear that way too.  But it’s clear since we’re in his PoV that he’s actually isolated and on the outskirts of what’s going on.  That’s done both in the music and sound (the way he fades in on the discordant, out of place note will always always get me as well as the way that the chatter and ‘reality’ of the party only comes into focus when Sara makes him kiss her) and in the conversations that are held.  The way the boys really do just focus on sex sets us up for Matteo’s explosion later where he accuses them of only talking about sex - which is sadly fairly true in these earlier episodes.  And Matteo tries to join in but all he manage is ‘that looks exhausting’ and ‘you bet’ when asked about him and Sara.  The fact that his contribution is about how exhausting sex (and by extension relationships) must be is really telling of his mind set.  Everything is too exhausting for him and he’s not ready to put in much effort at all.  The isolation goes deep with this boy and it’s all already so well shown in this first clip.  I like that we got hints of that through Mia’s season as well (and the seeds were planted in Hanna’s - what with his tagging along to the cabin and his stuff with his family etc etc), and so while this is a much more closed off and sad Matteo than we’ve seen before it’s not come out of the blue.  The fact that he’s still curating his social media to look like he’s happy and connected also reminds us that what we saw before isn’t necessarily what the truth was.

Clip two: I like how Matteo, unlike Isak, is clearly already very well aware of his feelings and his attraction to boys.  His pining over Jonas is both obvious and very sad.  He’s well aware that he can’t let anyone know, and the reminder with the number on Jonas’s arm is gut wrenching for him and for us to watch.  And then scattered through the whole episode is a lot of reminders that Jonas is a ‘player’ now - it’s shown by Jonas himself, by the boys teasing him, by Hanna’s sad little ‘I’m happy for him’ message etc etc.  And all of it serves to remind Matteo that he can never have what he’s wanted for so long.  So it’s no wonder that he removes himself from the situation to go get rolls or whatever it was that he bought.  The ‘I’m waiting for you’ banter would absolutely be the last straw.  Jonas can joke that he wants a guy, but Matteo knows that he’s not going to ever be able to have it be true for real.  As an aside, I can see why a lot of people thought Jonas might be GerEven at the time because a) Matteo’s thing has always been a lot more obvious and b) Jonas seems much more open and willing to consider the ideas.

Clip three: Well, I don’t have a lot to say about this one.  Except that !!!!! this first ‘meeting’ with David is so good and so well done and it works to rock both of them out of their little ruts and makes them both ‘wake up’ in a way.  It’s nothing, just a chance meeting in a hallway, two boys passing then looking back at each other.  But we can see just how much that one glance affected Matteo as he walks off and while we don’t see it in David as yet, he also makes reference to how knocked off course he felt when he met Matteo.  I have always liked that they’re in the same year and so on a real equal footing from the start and this is all part of that.  This moment affects both of them equally, knocking them out of their complacency, and it’s such a perfectly framed and filmed and edited moment.

Clip four: One thing I hadn’t noticed til this time around is that the girl who ends up sitting next to Jonas was at the back of the classroom, already sitting at a desk, earlier.  She obviously saw her moment and scrambled to take it - the second Matteo was out of his seat, she was in it.  Perhaps news of Jonas’s new ‘player’ status is getting out and she wants some of that action.  I really like that Matteo and Amira already clearly have a much more friendly history than Isak and Sana.  They’re both forced to work together by circumstances and a teacher, but here there’s already more of a history.  Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but Sana came to Isak but here Matteo goes to Amira.  That’s because of course Matteo more obviously stashed the weed on Amira and so he immediately knows who has it and where he has to go to get it back.  But it again makes him more proactive than Isak was at this early stage.  Amira is rightfully pissed at him - Sana was defending a friend from Isak’s shitty behaviour, Amira was herself affected and so she is much more firmly involved and has more reason to be cold.  Which works because in general Amira is softer and less aggressive and cold than Sana is so it fits for her to be directly angry for herself.

Clip five: ugh, so uncomfortable!!!  Sara is trying really hard to actually communicate with Matteo, and kudos to her for actually using her words, but it’s so painfully obvious how awkward and artificial this conversation is.  It’s not really a surprise that she doesn’t feel like this is totally settled as yet and asks Leonie to keep it to herself.  On the one hand, he agreed that they’re together (after making her make the decision) but on the other hand, he broke away from kissing etc so they could watch something together.  His words may be saying what Sara wants to hear, but his body language etc is saying something entirely different.  She deserves a whole lot better than Matteo and the way he’s using her, but I guess this is how it can be - he’s cute, he’s not totally rejecting her and so she lets herself believe.  

Clip six: well, again.  This clip does such a good job of properly introducing David with several hints to what’s going on with him but no actual answers.  It’s another example of two people talking at cross purposes, but where Sara lets it drop and the conversation dies out once she hears what she wants to hear, here David picks it up again once Matteo backs off.  Again, they are a good pair - equally invested and equally willing to set and respect boundaries and try to make connections in a safe way.  Imagine how this must look to David - this boy who did shake his world up a bit in their one small moment together (as another aside - ugh the wait between that first sight and this one is so long in real time!!!), is intriguing and interesting and asks him to go smoke with him.  Which is all very cool and David wants these connections and to make friends and this boy clearly appealed to him in some way at that first meeting.  But also, this boy is asking all kinds of invasive question which threaten the things David is trying to keep private, for example the pressing of ‘you’re new’ and how ‘weird’ it is to change schools at this point.  It’s no wonder David goes cold and distant and does his best to stay aloof.  But then of course Matteo respects that boundary and pulls back and so then David is able to make connections in a safer way, talking of things that matter to him but which aren’t quite so confronting for a first chat.  Detroit, running away etc and Matteo shows that he gets it and understands those impulses.  And so by the end they’ve fairly quickly established a connection and a rapport and so Sara’s intrusion is unwelcome to both of them.  Given that David literally runs away when she appears, I wonder how much he knows of her from their shared class.  She certainly doesn’t seem to know much except that he’s the guy Leonie likes.  Speaking of which, Matteo’s ‘I think that’s someone else’ is so bizarre in this situation.  He’s talking to a ‘new’ kid at school and Sara made it clear that Leonie likes the new kid, so he shouldn’t be surprised.  But it’s obvious he already wants David for his own and acknowledging that Leonie may also like him is too much, I guess.  After Jonas and his string of people hanging off him, I doubt Matteo wants to be caught up in something similar with David.  We’ve already seen how painful a crush on an uninterested guy is for Matteo and how much of himself he has to hide away - no wonder he wants David to be ‘someone else’ and actually be someone he can think about in that way after they started to make a connection.

[manyfictionsmusings]

Pull Me Like A Ripcord

Summary:

This story takes place immediately after the events of X-Men Apocalypse, where Peter decides against going back to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, despite seeking his father’s attention prior. This fic will just be growing and “mutating” as I write but promising lots of Dad/son angst, hurt/comfort etc.

Chapter 1: AfterEffects

As naïve as it was, Peter had hoped Erik would somehow realize he was his son, now that idea seemed cold and stupid. Why would Erik magically know who he was? He wasn’t Charles, a mind reader, and this wasn’t a fantasy kingdom where the orphan got his father in the end of the story.

Peter pulled his legs up to his chest, or at least he would have if he could have moved his shattered knee, the pain, coupled with the emotional turmoil of the long day sent him easily to tears. He wasn’t used to losing, he wasn’t used to being physically injured. The finale of the Egyptian battle had seen the x-men triumph, but Peter himself had lost…lost another chance to connect with Erik, if only he’d been able to get the better of the Immortal it might have impressed his father enough to take note of him, but instead if it hadn’t been for Raven’s distractions, the Beast’s strength and his own father’s shift in loyalties, he would have been just another victim in the note book of Apocalypse.

Peter drew a shaky breath, trying to force the events to wash over him, normally things didn’t bother him, but the last few months he’d changed, the others here at the school, or what was left of the school…he didn’t want to call them family but that’s what they felt like to him. It scared him and it was too much to hope for, he’d been disappointed to many times to open up like that. Which was why he’d told Beast to take him to a regular hospital in Cairo and he’d make his own way home once he was healed.

Beast had had his reservations about it, leaving the scrawny, pale kid who’d been with them since he’d saved literally everyone at Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters seemed a shitty way to repay him, but he’d finally consented to it, only after Peter had gotten angry and started yelling.

He felt lonely now, in the hospital bed, with an oxygen tube in his nose and his injured leg casted and hoisted by a sling, a thousand miles from anyone he knew, but the pain was reminding him of his failures as one of the x-men and the isolation served to remind him why he didn’t bother with people, especially his father.

They always left. Or were never there to begin with.

He deserved this.

“You don’t deserve any of this, Peter.”

Peter jolted, startled for only a second by the gentle voice, there was only one person it could be, to know what precisely he was thinking. He hurriedly wiped tears off his face before Charles came any closer.

“I told Beast I was fine. I don’t want anyone wasting any more time on me.”

“Beast didn’t tell your secret, but I was worried about you, Peter. You think I was going to just leave Egypt without you? I wouldn’t leave here without any of you.” Charles stepped closer, softly he took his hand and squeezed gently.  “You all mean so much to me. I owe you my life, Peter.”

He removed his hand and crossed his arms. “I didn’t do anything, if…if Erik hadn’t stepped in, we all would have been killed-including you.”

Charles glanced towards the monitors attached to the young man, before his eyes roamed across the physical state of Peter, in contemplation. “It was a group effort; it took all of us.” He finally spoke after a moment of hesitation. “I know you seek his attention and yet you’re afraid of it…Lehnsherr is coming back with us to New York, he’s going to help me rebuild the institution.”

Peter glanced up, his eyes reflecting a youthful hope the professor hadn’t seen for some time. “I thought he left.”

Charles shook his head. “It’s a way to…perhaps earn his attention, little by little anyway. What do you think? Will you return with me?”

Peter grimaced. “I’m not in great shape professor, encase you haven’t noticed. I might swing in when I’m up and around.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “I know all your pains, I’m sorry. I put your life in such horrific danger-”

“I came along on the mission of my own free will, no one forced me,” Peter interrupted.

Charles gripped his shoulder suddenly with an assertive intention. “Let me oversee your recovery, Maximoff, please, it’s the least I can do. I won’t leave here until you agree to be transferred to a hospital in New York, preferably close to Salem Center. You don’t have to be bothered by anyone from the school. But knowing you aren’t in Egypt would put my mind at ease.”

Peter sighed, he was feeling it again, the warm sensation that made him relaxed and somehow extremely uncomfortable at the same time. Family was something he would never be able to hold on to. He was going to mess it up, he knew that. He could already feel the threads slipping between pale, desperate, grasping fingers. But in the meantime, Charles cared about him enough to hunt him down in one of many Cairo hospitals, and he’d checked in under an alias. The professor cared enough to come back, or had he never left in the first place? His caring nature was beyond consolation to Peter’s broken, cold body, so comforting in fact he felt tears welling up again!

He sniffled and hurriedly wiped his brow before their return, nodding. “I’ll come with you.”

Professor Xavier had kept his word, medically and financially he’d arranged for everything to be taken care of, transporting Peter from Cairo to New York. He’d also arranged for him to have his own private room in Sheeran Hospital—a private hospital in upstate New York, forty-five miles from the current disaster of Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters.

Over the next two weeks physically Peter’s injuries slowly healed but mentally he felt wrecked beyond compare. He started having reoccurring nightmares that he couldn’t run; his ability had been fractured when the monstrosity had snapped his leg like a twig under his boot. In the dream he was trying to run away from someone, his first thought was that it was Apocalypse but a couple nights later he realized it was just a shadowy figure, one he could never outrun. Each time he fell, immobilized as pain shot through his leg, the sound of his own bones crunching reverberated in his ears, just as it had that day.

The nurses had unfortunately taken note of his mood, though Peter hadn’t put much effort into hiding his grim attitude, he’d slipped in a snarky remark about getting some extra drugs for an overdose. The nurse didn’t find his dark humor amusing and Charles suspiciously showed up the very next day.

He didn’t say much at first, just sat near Peter’s bed, looking out the enormous rectangle window that looked west, on a glowing sunset. “You have a good view though,” he finally spoke.

Peter pursed his lips. “I do appreciate your hospitality Professor, but I’m fine, you don’t have to check in on me. Just... really bored here you know, I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in one place this long…it’s wearing on me, I feel weird being at this speed.”

Charles turned his chair to face him, hands in his pockets, yet concern on his features. “Must be very uncomfortable to be forced to slow down. How’s physical therapy going?”

Peter avoided the older man’s gaze for some reason and snorted. “I mean it’s slow, I’m not the patience type or a patient for that matter…”

Charles nodded. “But the sooner you’re hobbling around, the sooner I can get you out of here.”

“And take me where?” Maximoff snipped with his signature deep-set frown.

Charles chuckled, “You’d be surprised what several telekinetic mutants can accomplish when it comes to construction. The east wing is already rebuilt, for now we’re using it for sleeping quarters. It’s a little crowded but…”

“…Anything is better than the smell of hospital?” Peter finished, trying to keep his mind in constant motion—moving from thought to thought. He didn’t know how much the professor knew about what he was thinking but Xavier had already noted his inward conception about seeking Erik’s attention in Egypt, so his guess was he was an open book, but Peter’s thoughts could be about as fast as his movement when we wanted them to be. “Well sounds like I need to hit therapy harder, if you’re actually going to get me out of here.”

As much as Peter didn’t intend to be shambling around a cramped wing in the school, Charles’ visit served to kick him in the butt about getting out of Sheeran soon, regardless of where he went afterward. And if he was being honest, he had never planned to go back to the school, though he also wasn’t ready to face his reasoning for not returning there.

No one was going to miss him, well not the one person that mattered, because he couldn’t even see Peter for who he was. A new plan had quickly formulated—get his leg in good enough shape to slip off before Charles came back for him and circumvent the entire situation altogether.

The nightmares continued to plague him, as day after day he added a little weight to the tender broken leg, between tears and a lump that had formed on his lip from how many times he had bit it to deal with the pain, he started making it all the way through the routes the therapist had set up for him. Once he realized he could make it to the end of the routine he had to mentally stop himself from trying out his true speed. He continually checked himself, forced himself to be normal, move slowly. He embraced the pain wholly, promising himself a whole box of Lemonheads when he got out of here.

A week and two days after Charles’ visit, Peter decided he was going. He’d woke up from his worst nightmare by far, clutching his throat, covered in sweat, his heart was beating hard enough his chest ached. His leg was throbbing with shadow pain from Apocalypse breaking it, only in this dream he hadn’t been saved before the giant mutant had slit his throat and tossed him aside like trash. His father hadn’t even noticed or cared.

Peter swallowed painfully, still tracing his fingers across the smooth, blanched flesh of his neck as he slipped out of bed. His x-men costume had been lost somewhere in the shuffle, or maybe the professor had taken it, either way Charles had been kind enough to replace it with his current pajamas and a change of clothing. Not the usual silver tinted clothing but considering he still wasn’t up to his Quicksilver speed, it seemed fitting to pull on the dark blue jeans and faded orange hoodie. Peter sighed in comfort at the velvety worn state of both items as they contacted his skin, though he tried to ignore how billowy the clothes were on him, he’d lost a significant amount of weight since Egypt—which the nurses had been lecturing him over—but what could you expect when there was only hospital food and no snacks to be seen.

Next Peter attempted to calm his silvery hair, by brushing his fingers through it repeatedly, which only seemed to make it worse. Between the wild shock of hair and the dark rimmed eyes, his reflection looked ghostly, coupled with the dim hospital lighting.

Peter exhaled calmly before grabbing the only items that had made it back with him from Egypt, his googles and his earphones, he stuck one of the foreign crutches under each armpit and silently slipped out of Sheeran Hospital…

[iamanartichoke]

I wrote a Thing. It’s extremely long. I’d prefer it not be reblogged; I wrote this for my own catharsis and would prefer it not be circulated, bc of Reasons. 

I changed my mind, okay to reblog. <3 

Under a cut for (extreme, did I mention?) length. 

So I got about 12 minutes of sleep last night, as you do, and around 3am or so I found myself - out of sheer curiosity - going down a meta hole of Ragnarok discourse, trying to figure out where this "satisfying redemption arc" for Loki happened. (I mean, there's a lot of things I would like to figure out, but I started there.) Because I could. 

Basically I was looking for meta that went into detail about how Loki was redeemed in a satisfactory way. The ‘satisfactory’  is an important word here bc there is a redemption arc in the film, in that Loki starts off the film as an antagonist (kinda) to Thor and he ends the film as an ally to Thor, standing at Thor's side. In that sense, yes, there's a redemption arc. I didn't find much (and I had no idea how much people just despise Ragnarok "antis" [I really dislike that word] but that's another topic [that I don't particularly want to get into, tbh]) but I did find some. I read what I could find, and I read it open-mindedly, and overall I came away feeling like, okay, there are some valid points being made here and I can kinda see where they're coming from.

But it was a bit (a lot) like -- flat. Idk. The best comparison I can think of is that it’s like if a literature class read, I don't know, The Yellow Wallpaper for an assignment, and some of the students came away from it feeling like it was a creepy story about a woman slowly driving herself insane, and the other students came away from it incensed at the oppression and infantilization of women in the late 19th century -

- and neither side is wrong, but the former is a very surface-level reading and the latter isn't (bc it stems from looking at why she drives herself insane, why she was prescribed 'rest' in the first place, the context of what women could and couldn't do back then, etc; basically, a bit more work has to go into it). 

[Note: I am not disparaging the quality of The Yellow Wallpaper. At all. It’s just the first relatively well-known story that popped into my head.]

In this sense, I can see the argument for Loki's redemption arc, but I don't think it's a very good argument. Not invalid, but not great.

I mean, for example, I think the most consistent argument I found variations of re: Loki's redemption is that Ragnarok shows Loki finally taking responsibility for his bad behaviour and misdeeds. This includes recognizing that his actions were fueled from a place of self-hatred and a desire to self-destruct in addition to bringing destruction on others. That he probably feels awkward and regretful of these things and doesn't know how to act around Thor, but he figures it out by the end, and decides that returning to Asgard is the best way to show that he's ready to make amends. His act of bringing the Statesman to Asgard is an apology. He allies himself with Thor and ends up in a better place, both narratively (united with Thor once again) and mentally (having taken responsibility and made amends for his past).

And setting aside that he had already made amends by sacrificing his life in TDW (and also setting aside that the argument is made that Loki redeems himself in IW by sacrificing himself to Thanos but if that's the case, wouldn't that imply that he hadn't achieved redemption in Ragnarok or else there would be no need to achieve it again in IW? Or, if you think he did achieve redemption in Ragnarok, then what the fuck did he give his life in IW for? What was his motivation there, and why did the narrative not make it clearer? I digress.) 

- setting aside those two factors, I think this is a very fair argument. Loki is fueled by self-hatred, and he does want to self-destruct, and he does want to inflict that pain on others as well (particularly Thor). No lies detected here. 

However, I also need to know where that self-hatred and desire for destruction (toward himself and others) comes from and for that, we need to go back to Thor 1.

Thor 1. 

Loki starts Thor 1 out as "a clenched fist with hair," to borrow a quote from the Haunting of Hill House (that I tucked away in my mental box of Lovely Things bc it says so much so very simply). He's very used to bottling everything up, pushing it down; he slinks around behind the scenes, pulling the strings to this plot or that. He's "always been one for mischief," but the narrative implies that the coronation incident is the first time Loki's done anything truly terrible. And it all immediately pretty much goes to shit, so Loki spends the rest of the movie frantically juggling all these moving pieces while trying to seem as if he's got it all under control, every step of the way. That's how I view his actions. 

But I always come back to that quote where Kenneth Branaugh tells Tom, of the scene in the vault, "This is where the thin steel rod that's been holding your mind together snaps." In other words this is where Loki discovering he's Jotun is just one thing too many. He can't take it. But though the rod snaps, his descent isn't a nosedive. It's a tumble. As the story progresses, the clenched fist starts to loosen, the muscles are flexed in unfamiliar ways (that feel kinda good, after being stiff for so long), and it culminates with the hand opening completely and shaking itself out. All of that repression, that self-hatred, that rage and jealousy just explodes so that, by the time the bifrost scene happens, Loki's already hit bottom. It's not just about proving his worthiness to Odin. He wants to hurt Thor, too; he, essentially, throws a tantrum. (That's right, I said tantrum.) 

(Note: The word 'tantrum’ has negative connotations bc we normally equate it with a toddler stamping their feet and screaming in the aisle when their parent won't buy them the toy they want. But in itself, the word tantrum isn't infantalizing. It's an "emotional outburst, an uncontrolled explosion of anger and frustration" [paraphrasing from dictionary.com]. That's exactly what happens here [and why Tom called Loki's actions a massive tantrum, but people took that to mean Tom agreed it was childish whereas I doubt Tom meant it that way]).

He's been pushed past his limit, and he does bad things. He does really shitty things. He hurts Thor, he hurts his family. I'm pretty sure he knows this all along so this isn't, like, some revelation further down the line that "hey, those things I did were probably kinda bad." He got the memo already. 

Ragnarok 

Fast forward to Ragnarok, and we're introduced to a version of Loki who's had 4ish years to sit with everything that's happened. To sit with it and not do much else. The rawness of it has faded, and now it seems as though it's just become a thing, like when you move through life aware of your childhood traumas and have more or less just accepted them (and you probably share a lot of really funny depression memes on Facebook, which is kinda the equivalent of Loki's play, but that's probably just me). 

Loki has, more or less, chilled out. He seems more bored than anything else; he's been masquerading as Odin for longer than he ever planned or intended to, so he's more or less ended up hanging out, letting Asgard mind its own business, and entertaining himself with silly plays. This is the version that starts out the movie as an antagonist to Thor - a version that is, arguably, in a much different place [and is a much milder threat] than the version who originally did those Bad Things. 

And of course Thor is still mad at him, and of course they're going to butt heads, because that's what they do (and Thor's grievances are genuine, I’ll add, bc it's not really his fault he assumed Loki faked his death, nor can he be blamed for being pissed about Odin).

One argument framed this version of Loki as being a person who is facing the awkwardness of coming out of a dark place, which is fair. If we're going to frame his actions in Thor 1 as a tantrum, then Ragnarok would be the part where the toddler has been taken home, possibly has had some lunch and a juice box, and is now watching cartoons. They're over the tantrum, and would probably feel pretty silly about it if they weren't, yknow, toddlers. They probably can't remember why they even wanted that toy so badly. If they're a little older and self-aware, they might even be embarrassed for having melted down.

Like the word tantrum, this feeling isn't a thing limited to toddlers. I know I've had a few epic meltdowns as a grown ass adult, and I know I always feel deeply embarrassed afterwards - like, want to crawl into a hole and die. I've said things I can't take back. Adolescents and teenagers throw tantrums, mentally ill people throw tantrums, adults throw tantrums (I mean, my god, look at all the videos of Karens having screaming meltdowns - screaming! - over having to wear masks in order to shop at stores). Humans throw tantrums. And usually, after the feelings have been let out and the tantrum has passed, humans feel pretty regretful and awkward and embarrassed about whatever they did and said in the midst of their meltdown. 

I get all of that and agree it's valid and that Loki probably feels it. By the time Ragnarok happens, Loki's had some time to reflect and think hmm, yeah, probably could've handled that one a lot better. The argument further goes that in order to navigate this awkward period, Loki must come to terms with what he's done, acknowledge that some things can't be unsaid or undone, and begin to make amends. Supposedly, some people feel that Loki becomes a better person because he does "own" everything he did wrong and, even though he feels like a jackass (paraphrasing), he sets that aside to become a become a better person by choosing to help Thor and Asgard at the end. 

Thus, the overall arc goes like this. Loki, Thor's jealous little brother, 

throws a tantrum of epic proportions bc Reasons 

continues to act badly and make things even worse (Avengers) 

has to face consequences for his actions (prison sentence) 

ends up with a stretch of time in which he's free to contemplate and chill out 

feels embarrassed and awkward about how he's behaved

sees an opportunity to make up for it and decides to take it 

helps Thor, saves the day, and ends the film a better person. 

Redemption achieved.

None of this is wrong. The film supports it. It's a fair interpretation. But it leaves. out. so. much.

To circle all the way back around Loki being "a clenched fist with hair," and his actions stemming from his self-hatred, you have to ask - how did he get that way? He didn't end up with all this self-hatred on accident. Generally, one isn't born despising themselves, it's a learned behavior. (I realize chemical imbalances are a thing, obviously, as I have Mental Shit myself, but for argument's sake I'm assuming that's not the case with Loki [at this point in time]). 

Where did Loki learn it? From his family, from his surroundings, from his culture. We see examples of these microaggressions in the first, like, twenty minutes of the movie - a guard openly laughs at Loki's magic after Thor makes a joke about it (the tone of the conversation implies that Thor "jokes" like this often) and though Loki does the snake thing, the guard faces no real consequences. Thor doesn't acknowledge that anything went amiss. Not much later, on their way to Jotunheim, Loki's barely gotten two words out to Heimdall before Thor cuts him off, steps in front of him, and takes charge. Loki doesn't look annoyed at this; he looks resigned. 

Then, for absolutely no reason at all, Volstagg decides to make a jab at Loki ("silver tongue turned to lead?") just because he can. The ease with which he makes this comment and the way that no one else blinks an eye at it implies that this isn't out of the norm. And Loki doesn't react, not really. In the deleted version, he delivers a particularly nasty comeback but he delivers it under his breath, without intending Volstagg to hear it. In the final version, he simply says nothing, though his expression can be read as hurt or stung. Either way, the audience sees an example of Loki being walked all over by Thor and his friends and bottling up his reactions instead of standing up for himself. 

Microaggressions matter. They are mentally and emotionally damaging. They hurt. The implication that this is not unusual treatment for Loki means that Loki's probably gone through this for most of his life. It's like the equivalent of being, I don't know, twenty two and you're the friend who has to walk behind the others when the sidewalk isn't wide enough, and it's been that way since the first day of kindergarten. At this point, you're used to it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less when the jabs come seemingly out of nowhere, for no reason other than to make you feel bad.

(I personally identify a lot with this bc I experienced passive bullying in social settings for years. I was the 'doesn't fit on the sidewalk' friend; I hung around with people who'd pretend to be my friend and would be more or less nice to my face, but would laugh at me and make fun of me behind my back for whatever reasons. And often there'd be the random jabs at me, things that would come out of nowhere to smack me in the face, followed by the fake laugh and “just kidding!" so that I couldn't even get upset without being made to feel like I was overreacting and couldn't take a joke. I'd deal with this socially, particularly in middle school when girls are their most vicious, and then I'd go home and, because I was the only girl with a lot of brothers and because boys are mean and because I am who I am, the dynamic was that my brothers would just endlessly roast me to my face and sometimes it was a "just kidding!" thing, where I was the only one not laughing. But that’s beside the point; my point is that microaggressions, passive bullying, and consistent invalidation are harmful and that shit stays with you into adulthood.) 

So, yes, Loki needs to be held responsible for his misdeeds, and it's valid to say that he recognizes those misdeeds and wants to make amends. I have never disagreed with that. But the problem with this interpretation is that it lets every single other character who contributed to Loki's self-hatred and mental breakdown (let's just call a spade a spade here, that's what it was; he was broken psychologically) get off scot-free.

First of all,

Odin is not held accountable for instilling in the princes a mentality of Asgard first, everyone is beneath us but Jotuns are benath us the most, they are literal monsters. He is not held accountable for pitting his sons against one another (even if it was unintentional, he still did it) with "you were both born to be kings but only one of you can rule" being the general tone of their upbringing. He's not held accountable for his favoritism toward Thor.

Frigga is not held accountable for deferring to Odin both in supporting the above things and in keeping the truth of Loki's origins a secret while doing nothing to discourage the "monsters" narrative. 

Thor is not held accountable for his own tendency of taking Loki for granted (he assumes Loki will come to Jotunheim, he oversteps Loki constantly, “know your place,” etc.. He grants his implicit permission for Loki to be treated as the sidewalk friend in their “group,” a group which is loyal to and takes their cues from Thor as Thor continues to do nothing in his brother's defense).

[Note: Wanting Thor to be held accountable for things he's done wrong isn't vilifying him. Acknowledging that Thor benefited from Odin's favoritism and his own place as Crown Prince doesn't negate Thor also being raised in an abusive environment. I don't think anyone's saying that or, if they have, it's not something I agree with.]

Furthermore, 

Odin is not held accountable for his cruelty in disowning Loki (”your birthright was to die” is never going to be forgotten, speaking of people saying things that can't be unsaid or taken back) and in sentencing Loki to a severe prison sentence (life! only bc Frigga wouldn't let him execute Loki) for crimes that are no worse than what Odin himself has committed (around which the entire plot of Ragnarok revolves! Colonialism (and subjugation) is wrong is, like, a major theme [that people rush to praise, even] here). 

Thor is also never held accountable for not trying harder to understand what made Loki snap (fair enough, he didn't have a ton of time after returning from Earth, but certainly he had lots of time to sit around reflecting while Loki was being tortured by Thanos for a year). He knows Loki is "not himself" and "beyond reason" and accepts it at face value; he questions it once and then lets it go. He's fine with assuming Loki's just lost his mind, and isn't that a shame. (I realize I'm simplifying Thor's emotions but my point is that Thor could've tried harder to figure out that Loki was being influenced and/or not acting completely autonomously.) 

Thor is also never held accountable for - if not facing consequences for his own slaughter of Jotuns - then at least addressing why Loki can't kill an entire race even though Thor tried to do that, like, two days ago. (Granted, it’s difficult to understand how Thor got from Point A ("let's finish them together, Father!") to Point B (this is wrong!), but that failing belongs to Thor 1 (which is not, by the way, a perfect movie).

The interpretation that Loki is fully redeemed because he took responsibility for his actions, returned to Asgard, and allied himself with Thor to save their people is all well and good - but, why is Loki the only one here who has to take responsibility for their actions? 

What about all the loose threads in his story? 

For example, how did he get from: 

Point A (believing himself a literal monster, having a complete mental breakdown, getting tortured and further traumatized after that, etc) 

to 

Point B (Hey, yknow what would be fun? I'm going to write and direct a play about how I heroically died to save Thor and Jane, and I'll go ahead and have Odin say he accepts me and has always loved me. I'm going to do these things because Odin never said this in real life and instead of acknowledging my sacrifice, Thor left my body in the dirt, so someone has to validate what I've done right and that someone might as well be me. And hey, while I'm at it, I'm going to control the narrative on revealing myself as Jotun to Asgard, instead of living in fear of it being found out, and I'm going to do it in a way that they have to sympathize with me and revere me in death, bc they never bothered to do so when I was alive. And Matt Damon should play me, also.) 

to 

Point C (Yeah, I guess I feel kinda awkward about that whole tantrum thing, also I should help Thor and support him being king.)

? 

The answers to these questions are handwaved and the audience takes that to mean they don't matter. Furthermore, framing Loki's redemption around an act of service (more or less) to Thor makes Loki's redemption about Thor. Does Loki make this decision for the sake of Thor and of Asgard, or does he make it for himself? It's not super clear to me, and I think arguments can be made for both. Which, again, is fine, but - whatever.

If we're going to collectively agree, as a fandom, that Loki is complex, that he's morally gray, that he's worthy of redemption and therefore arguably a good person who's done bad things, then why is it asking too much to have it acknowledged that Thor (also a good person who's done bad things) played a part in Loki's downfall and has shit to apologize for, too? Bc one can only assume the reason is that you're taking a very gray concept and making it black and white by saying Loki has to apologize and make amends because he is the villain, and Thor doesn't because he is the hero (and it's his movie). And it's lazy.

This is where the crux of the issue lands. There's more than one valid interpretation, yes. And no two people (or groups of people, or whatever) are going to consume and therefore interpret or analyze the source material in the same way. I think I saw a post recently about how studies have been done on this, in fact. But, there is a lot going on under the surface that tends to get overlooked when exploring Loki's redemption arc in Ragnarok, as far as I can see, and that’s why I don’t consider it satisfactory. 

[I did read similar arguments regarding other issues that are often debated ('debated'), like Loki's magic and/or being underpowered, whether or not Loki's betrayal of Thor was the natural outcome of the situation on Sakaar or not, whether Thor actually gets closure with Odin [if he does, how does he reconcile the father he's idolized with the imperialistic conqueror he's discovered? Why doesn't he hold Odin responsible for covering up Hela's existence and the threat of her return, especially as he knew he was nearing the end of his life? Is Thor's "I'm not as strong as you" meant to imply that he acknowledges those shortcomings of Odin's and that he's okay with them, or that he's just overlooking them, or is he not okay with them but didn't have the chance to get into it bc he was in the middle of battle? T'Challa confronted his father on his wrongdoings in Black Panther; could Thor not have had at least one line that was confrontational enough to establish where he stands as opposed to this gray middle? Can someone explain to me how any of this equates to Thor gaining closure? Please?) but obviously I'm not going to go into all of them (well, I tried not to), bc this mammoth post has gone on long enough (I may not even post this tbh)]

- but my overall point to this entire thing is that when I say I'm critical of Ragnarok bc it's flawed, that Loki's arc was neither complete nor satisfactory, that many things went unaddressed and, due to all of these things, I do not think Ragnarok is a very good movie nor a very cohesive movie, this is where I'm coming from. I have not seen anything to change my mind to the contrary. 

But I am not saying that anyone satisfied with it is wrong, or shouldn't have the interpretation that they do. I'm not vilifying Thor in order to lift Loki up, just acknowledging that Thor is arguably just as flawed as Loki without the stigma of being Designated Villain. I think a lot of these arguments get overlooked or dismissed, and that's fine, but it doesn't make the people who do engage with them hateful, or bitter, or trying to excuse Loki's crimes, or feeling like redemption means that Loki's crimes should be erased rather than reconciled. 

And sure, yes, perhaps we are expecting too much and exploring all of these themes (or wanting them explored) means that somehow we think it should be Loki's movie (we don't). Loki is a supporting character, but he's still a character. And the movie itself doesn't have to delve into all these things - no one's saying that. (At least, I'm not.) We just want acknowledgement, from the narrative, that this stuff was an Issue. 

This could have been accomplished with - 

Some dialogue closer to the novelization (and original script), like Thor and Loki both acknowledging the harm they've done one another and their kingdom due to their Feels.

 A single line of Thor confronting Odin, or even asking "Why?" 

A narrative acknowledgement that Odin did both Thor and Loki dirty (”I love you, my sons” isn't an apology, because it doesn't acknowledge either that there's been wrong-doing or express regret for having done the wrong in the first place). 

A little bit more nuance in the way Loki treats his own past (ie, instead of flippantly telling the story of his suicide attempt, maybe - if it must be flippant - talk about getting blasted in the face with Hawkeye's arrow or sailing through to Svartalfheim [And in that moment, I sang ta-daaaa!]) or whatever. 

I recognize that wanting full, in-depth exploration on all of these issues regarding a supporting character is probably too much to ask or expect - but, I also feel like, if you're going to be professionally writing a narrative (or rewriting/improvising, as it were), it's not too much to ask that a little more care be taken in regards to all of the layers that have contributed to said supporting character's downfall and subsequent redemption arc. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to want. 

And maybe if there had been more nuance and continuity in how these things were portrayed on screen (ie, if TW had actually done as good a job as his stans think he did), the fandom wouldn't have divided and conquered itself over which "version" of the same character is more valid and whether or not the film did its best to close out a trilogy (not start a new one), to the point where everyone in this fandom space makes navigating it feel like walking through a minefield. 

But, I mean 

(Again, please don’t reblog if possible.) 

Edit: Okay to reblog. <3