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firelxdykatara · 3 years

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Katara x Aang :3c

are you trying to get me in trouble

-cough-

no but in all honesty, my genuine feelings about kataang boil down to three major points: 1. it's boring, and does not jive thematically with either of their character arcs, to the point of, 2. actively hampering character development on both sides, and 3. katara deserved better.

points expanded under the cut. (please, if you're a kataang shipper and you see this, just keep scrolling. i've tagged it appropriately and put the bulk under a cut and at this point that's literally all i can do lmfao.)

send me a ship and get my (brutally) honest opinion!

1. It's Boring: This is the most subjective point on the list (I mean, in fairness, it's all subjective, but I have evidence from the show and post-canonical materials to support my other points; this one is just preference), but there's just... nothing to kataang. It's cute (when it's not actively aggravating), and... that's about it. It's not even that I dislike friends-to-lovers as a shipping trope (though it's not my overall preference), because there are a lot of friends-to-lovers couples that I do ship (kanej comes to mind, also will/elizabeth from potc, karolsen from supergirl, romione and hinny from hp, among others), but one thing that I think all of those couples have that kataang doesn't is that both sides of the pairing are teens or adults when they get together, with teen/adult dynamics and issues and stories to deal with, rather than one half being a teenager and the other being literally prepubescent.

And don't get me wrong, I have no problem with age gap ships in general. And as far as atla goes, Katara, at 14, has the same age difference from Zuko (16) as Aang has from her, and it's never stopped me--because both Katara and Zuko are well into puberty when they meet and I have no problem picturing them being into one another and growing together as they enter adulthood. Aang, on the other hand, is a child. And he acts like it. Which wouldn't be a problem, if the show weren't expecting me to believe he is a) ready for a romantic relationship, and b) ready for one specifically with Katara, who is not only older and far more mature but is specifically cast as his caretaker in a very maternal role for the entire show's run.

This show asks me to believe that a teenage girl well into adolescence is going to be attracted to and develop romantic feelings for a pre-adolescent child--and it asks me to believe this while showing us otherwise that Katara's type is actually older boys with fabulous hair and angsty pasts in all of her other potential romantic dalliances--and then enter into a relationship with him, all while ignoring the elephant in the room that is the fact that she was basically acting like his mother for the entire series to that point. (Something that is heavily lampshaded earlier in the very same season.) That just stretches the bounds of credulity way too far for me, especially when there's no evidence that Katara herself would get anything out of their romantic relationship.

There's nothing there for me to sink my teeth into. No delicious development, no parallels where they help each other grow, no internal conflicts that they have to work through together, nothing. Certainly no reason for me to actually believe Katara feels (or would grow to feel) anything for him other than the platonic affection of a caretaker. I can easily believe she loves him dearly, as a friend and quasi-little-brother, but I just can't see that developing naturally into romantic love--not the way it's presented in the show.

And even if they did manage to at least make the development of Katara's feelings believable, unless they changed something fundamental about the nature of their relationship, it'd still be boring, so.

2. It Actively Hampers Their Character Development--On Both Sides: I've written before (extensively lol im so sorry) about how kataang is actively detrimental to Katara and to Aang. In short (because ye gods this post is already getting long enough), Katara is narratively harmed by being shoved into a relationship that completely ignores her stated feelings--a relationship that had been presented as a one-sided puppylove crush for the vast majority of the series--and it inhibits her growth as a character in ways that become far more obvious in the comics and lok, where the very same creative forces that lead to her beginning a relationship with Aang in the first place reduce her to 'the Avatar's girl' and very little else, all the way through to the end of LoK (where she is a Healer and the Avatar's wife and, again, very little else).

As for Aang:

As to how this relationship is detrimental to Aang (other than the comics and LoK nonsense)? Just take a look at book 2, when he’s trying to learn Earthbending from Toph. Katara constantly coddles him. Much of the time, she’s afraid to be anything other than gentle and understanding with Aang--partly because of her fear that if she pushes him too far, he’ll run away. (Which he does, several times.) But sometimes, what Aang needs to grow is a sharp kick in the slats, which Toph was more than willing to provide--and which worked. Katara was great for teaching Aang to waterbend, but he needed more than that to grow as a person. And he can’t get that while he’s in a relationship with someone who will apologize for getting upset when he was very explicitly neglecting her.

In addition, it is pointed out by Guru Pathik at the end of Book 2 that one of Aang's chakras is blocked by his attachment to Katara. Aang takes this to mean (incorrectly) that he has to stop loving her in order to become fully realized as an Avatar, but this is actually part of the problem--because the issue isn't that he is in love with Katara, it's that he's possessively attached to her. He believes himself entitled to her love in return, rather than selflessly loving someone regardless of whether or not they return that affection. (This is obvious come the EIP episode, where Aang demands to know why he and Katara aren't in a relationship already--because he kissed her without asking [or even checking to see if she'd be ok with kissing him], which he phrases as mutual even though it very much was not, and he gets angry and violates her boundaries when she says that she is confused and doesn't want to think about it right then.)

It is his attachment to Katara--the need for her to return his love, the belief that she will and it is only a matter of time before he gets what he wants--that he was supposed to let go of, not his feelings for her in general. Unfortunately, while he pays lipservice to doing this (far too late for it to be useful--if he'd stayed with the Guru for five more minutes and unlocked his chakra there, that battle would've gone very differently), he almost immediately backtracks on that development come book 3, and there isn't another single whisper of Aang maybe growing up and moving past his one-sided and possessive crush and realizing that even if Katara doesn't feel the same way, it doesn't mean she loves him less or that their friendship is less important.

What really needed to happen, for Aang to grow as a person and become fully realized as an Avatar, was for him to grow up. To realize that his feelings were not of paramount importance, and that even if he was in love with Katara, he was not entitled to her love in return. He should have been able to move past his need for her to love him back, in order to get past that stumbling block, unlock his chakras, and regain the Avatar State in time to face the Firelord. But he didn't. As a result, they had to find some other way to just give him the Avatar State (a well-placed rock) and the means to defeat Ozai without killing him (the deus ex lionturtle) and his entire character arc just fell apart in the third act rather than reaching a satisfying conclusion.

3. Katara Deserved Better: This really ties into how her romantic relationship with Aang hampered her own development, but I'm still bitter enough about it that it gets its own bullet-point. And the biggest single reason I could never ship kataang--the thing that would've turned me off even if there were substance and a halfway decent storyline for them--is the fact that Aang kisses her without her consent (for the second time) in Ember Island Players, Katara gets angry at him and storms off, and then..... she walks out onto the balcony to make out with him.

With nothing to bridge that gap.

It's bad enough that a show aimed at children had a scene where the child protagonist kissed the object of his affections without her consent when she didn't want him to (made explicit by her angry reaction)--and this is absolutely an issue when the show is aimed at children and it may well be the first experience they've had with consent issues portrayed in media--but this moment is never addressed again. Katara just decides--completely off-screen--that she does love him Really and walks out to make out with him in the epilogue. There's no conversation, no apology for violating her boundaries, no discussion of why that was wrong or any indication that Aang understands what he did and why it upset her. They don't have a single one-on-one interaction between that kiss and the epilogue, and the only other time they are on screen together, Aang yells at her and storms off.

So, even leaving the comics and lok aside, Katara deserved much better from her own romantic plotline. In fact, she deserved to have one, rather than simply being the oblivious object of Aang's affections, given a couple moments where she blushes but otherwise remains completely ignorant of his feelings (she looks shocked and upset when he kisses her prior to the invasion, and then she completely forgets that even happened because she's confused as to what Aang is even talking about during EIP until he brings it up; that's not the behavior of a fourteen-year-old girl who was kissed by someone she was developing romantic feelings for), before the epilogue where it becomes clear that she figured all of that out off-screen and had feelings for him after all.

She's a main character, not a side-character written in solely to give one of the mains a love interest. She deserved a romantic plotline of her own. (She could have had one with someone else, with very few changes made to what was actually on-screen prior to the epilogue, but that's another conversation entirely.) She deserved to have her feelings considered at all important by the person she was going to be paired with in the end, rather than having him just assume she felt the same way and then get mad at her for never giving any indication of it when he'd never asked about her feelings to begin with. She deseserved agency in her own romantic narrative, and she just didn't get that with Aang.

So yeah, at the end of the day, my biggest issue with kataang is that it involved doing Katara dirty, and she's my favorite character and she deserved so much better damnit.

#atla #katara #aang salt #kataang salt #anti kataang #atla meta #katara deserved better #salt for ts #ask meme #invincibleweasel #asked

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jetaime-jespere · 3 years

Text

Old Times All Over (Part 1 of 2)

A very special thank you to @sequinsmile-x for the beta!

Exactly six months pass before he can’t stand it anymore.

Aaron takes a risk and goes to Emily while she's undercover in Paris.

Rating: M

Exactly six months pass before he can’t stand it anymore. The weight of her absence is unbearable; it follows him around as if lingering in hidden shadows and settling deep in his soul, an indelible stain that doesn’t fade as the days pass by. He bears the team’s grief, shoulders it and doesn’t let himself handle his own. It feels wrong to mourn her as if she were actually dead when in reality she lingers somewhere very different, another kind of hellish existence. He often finds himself wondering what she’d say about all of it. Emily would have scoffed at the ornate casket, rolled her eyes at the formality of the Catholic service the Ambassador insisted upon. He’d been the one to make the call on the flight back to DC. Elizabeth knew right away why he was calling, and the detached coldness in her tone was merely a coping mechanism, for the older woman’s grief seeped through the phone as he relayed the news. Aaron could scarcely reach her eyes as he offered condolences in person, the words heavy and thick on his tongue. Elizabeth’s questions were answered with the vague formalities that were constructed as part of a grand lie, held together with threads that ran the risk of being unraveled with the slightest misstep.

Read the rest below the cut or on Ao3

Emily’s life depended on the sanctity of those lies, as did his own.

No one can ever find out about this, JJ had whispered to Aaron and Clyde behind a firmly closed door in the depths of that hospital in Boston. It was eerily dark, their heads bent together in near silence as initial plans were laid. For her safety, and all of ours. It felt oddly conspiratorial to plan her disappearance as she laid just feet away, oblivious to it all and very much alive. But Doyle escaped into the night like a ghost, and that meant Emily had to go too whether they liked it or not. It didn’t matter that they hunted monsters like him every day. They knew the moment her heart started again, that she would pull through, that she’d never be free. He’ll never stop looking for her. Clyde’s voice was like rubbing salt in a wound that burned through his skin.The tension between them was thick, laden with the unspoken tension of a tentative truce and a keen awareness of the pain that coursed within each of them. He will go to the ends of the earth to find her.

Aaron disliked Clyde Easter from the moment he laid eyes on the man. Perhaps it was his closeness to Emily - she trusted him, more so than she did Aaron, as was being made abundantly clear. It still stung - that she’d gone to him in her moment of need without even once considering just maybe the team could have helped. Maybe it was the way Clyde knew her so intimately, almost as well as a lover would - a delicate balance of adoration and indignance, a fierce desire to protect the oaths they’d sworn years ago, loyalty and trust woven from years of brushes with peril only to do it all over again. But it was more than that; he knew from the moment Clyde sat before him in an interrogation room in Boston his loathing ran deep. Only later would Aaron realize they both paid a similar price for loving the same woman.

The idea to go to her comes to him once Dave has finally disappeared for the night and the bottle of scotch is empty once again. It’s a ritual they share now, unspoken yet expected, an attempt at burying the worst of their grief. It never quite hits the mark, because Dave doesn’t know the truth. His words are wise and well intended, but he speaks of loss in terms of death, and it’s one thing Aaron can’t think about for too long. But it’s some of the only company he has once the building quiets down, so whenever he shows up at the door, he doesn’t object. Most nights they leave together after a round. The echo of their shoes striking the marble floors is the only noise between them when they pass the framed photos of agents long gone on the walls, now with Emily among them. He wants to shake someone, tell them she doesn’t belong there. “Don’t look,” Dave tells him every time. “It won’t bring her back.”

He always looks.

Tonight Aaron lingers, the idea now an intrusive thought reverberating through his weary mind. It’s dangerous - violates every rule of her disappearance - and puts anyone who knows at risk. He shuffles the files on his desk only to do it once more, rearranges the pens in the cup and flips through a few reports that still require his signature. His phone rings; he doesn’t have to turn it over to know it’s Jessica asking where he is, that Jack is asking for him. He was supposed to have been home a few hours ago. Instead of answering that phone, he digs for a different one. This one has stayed hidden in his desk since the night they returned from Boston. Clyde had pushed it into his hand at the last possible moment before he boarded a flight, his face stony and solemn. “If you ever need to reach me, use this.” It might be the closest thing to a friendship they’ll ever have, a twisted kind of bond that comes along with a shared secret they very well might take to the grave.

“I was wondering when you would call,” comes the lilting British accent on the other end when the line connects. “I thought for sure it would be sooner.” Clyde’s voice is haunting; it takes Aaron right back to Boston when it was just the two of them in that interrogation room, piercing blue eyes up against his darker ones as the pieces fell into place. If you want to stop that man, you have to put a bullet between his eyes yourself. He barely recognizes his own voice; it strains when he explains exactly why he’s calling, once the doors of his office are firmly shut. Even then, it’s a near whisper.

“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Clyde demands. He’s not exactly surprised by the request, though. After all, he and Aaron had a few things in common. “The risks of all of this?” He’s whispering, the hiss of his voice biting even from thousands of miles away, wherever the hell he might be. “I thought you did things by the book at the BAU.”

“Can you make it work or not?” Aaron’s terseness matches Clyde’s hostility, a thinly veiled shield for his grief that consumes him.

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a contemplative inhale as if he’s considering his answer, like he holds the power in his hands himself. “You should have more faith in me, Agent Hotchner.”

...

It’s all a little too easy to coordinate once the initial call is made, much to his surprise. For two weeks, things continue as normal, or as close to normal as possible, a period of limbo-like freefall. A case takes them to Portland, another to Providence. While the team is across the country, Clyde takes care of the multiple identities and aliases Aaron will use in Europe, along with a reservation at a nondescript hotel and God only knows what else. He’s barely back in Virginia for an hour when a text message on the burner phone reveals a series of coordinates, a meeting location.

“A direct flight to Charles de Gaulle might seem suspect,” Clyde whispers, nestled amongst the shadows along the Potomac River three nights before Aaron slated to leave. “There’s a flight from Regan to Heathrow, then to Paris. You’ll have a different identity for each, so best not to get confused.”

Aaron bristles at the snarkiness in his tone. “And my cover story?”

Clyde scoffs, as if disgusted by the question. “You’ll tell your team you’re being called to London to consult with Scotland Yard as a favor to a friend. I’ve already taken care of those details as well - a fake case report. Familiarize yourself with them so they don’t suspect anything.” He passes over the thick envelope, holding onto it for just a moment too long.

“How will I find her? Once I’m there?”

“Leave that up to me, Aaron. She’ll be waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” is all Aaron can say once he holds the weight of it in his hands. “I know you took a huge risk to do this.”

Clyde stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets and shuffles his feet awkwardly. “I love her too, you know.” It’s certainly the most honest he’s ever been, something that looks like hurt flooding his features. But he stiffens a few seconds later with an authoritative clearing of his throat. “Bloody hell, Aaron, for all of our sakes, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

...

Aaron drops Jack off at Jessica’s. He relays the same details he told the team a few hours before with the same feigned degree of calm assurance and mock annoyance - just a few days away, work related. No one suspects a thing. In fact, the rest of them seem almost happy for him to go. “A change of scenery might be nice,” Dave says as they walk out of the BAU.

It’s risky, inherently a bad idea and yet, it isn’t enough to deter him. There’s an element of betrayal he feels for lying to the team, for they’re still reeling from their collective loss. They miss her just as much as he does; none of this is fair. He drowns it out with a pair of headphones and a stiff drink as the plane roars to life and lifts into the sky as the sun sets.

He wakes up hours later in London with a headache and an all too familiar ache in his chest.

…

It’s another few hours of travel before he actually lands in Paris. He’s completely focused, determined as he collects his luggage and leaves the airport. He destroys the first passport moments after the plane touches solid ground and tucks the next one in his jacket pocket for easy access, the others will stay safely in his travel bag. Aaron calls Clyde on a new burner phone, one of several included in the envelope of documents that was passed over in a shadowy spot by the Potomac. He answers on the first ring, doesn’t even bother with a greeting. Instead he rattles off an address Aaron commits to memory and adds, “she’ll be waiting for you,” before the line goes dead. The address, he soon finds, is a small cafe in the fifth Arrondissement, the Latin Quarter. At first it seems risky, to meet in public, but it’s probably safer than somehow having a record of her address.

The woman at the small table in the back of the cafe is inconspicuous, but he spots her immediately upon opening the door. She could be anyone; she fits right in. One slender leg crossed over the other, a chic knee-length boot peeking out under the table. A simple raincoat, hair cut just below her chin. It’s lighter than it was the last time he saw her but still a rich shade of brown.The only giveaway is the state of the nails on her right hand - not manicured, bit down and ragged. It’s her, exactly where Clyde said she would be. He doesn’t make a big show, just simply sits in the empty seat across from her, his heart pounding in his chest when he sees her face for the first time in months. Emily’s hand is unsteady as her fingers wrap around the espresso on the table. “I’ve been waiting.” It sounds formal; she makes no move to shake his hand or hug him, or display any bit of emotion, but her lips tremble and her eyes well up a little.

“I got a little lost along the way,” Aaron shrugs a little, keeping his tone light for any ears privy to their conversation. She smiles, probably picturing him lost on the maze-like streets of Paris, the streets that still don’t feel like home to her either. “I’m here now.” It carries more weight than it ever would; all he wants to do is touch her to prove to himself this isn’t just part of the fucking nightmare he’s lived since March, one he’ll wake from wrapped in sheets damp with sweat and a pounding heart. She’s very much real, very much alive in front of him, but what the Emily he sees isn’t the Emily he remembers. Paris might be beautiful but it hasn’t been kind to her. She’s thinner and paler, shades of exhaustion on her face. Over the years Aaron has seen her sleep deprived more times than he could count - the toll of back to back cases added up - but this is something else entirely. It’s the culmination of fear from constantly looking over her shoulder, the toll of the unknown. Would Doyle ever stop looking for her, or would the rest of her days be spent on the run, alone, days that blend into weeks into months and years? Would she ever come home, to the only family she’s really ever had?

Emily studies him too, undoubtedly shocked at what she sees. Time hasn’t been kind to him, either. He’s a shell of what he used to be. A subtle shadow on his face that’s new, he’s weary eyed and tense. She knows it’s not because of the better part of a day he’s spent traveling - it’s much more than that. It’s a haunting look, with the memory of how quickly things spiraled out of control. He’d been helpless to stop any of it; Emily knows the blame he places on himself. If their hurried goodbye in the hospital was any indicator of the torment of what he’s been through the last six months, then she knows it’s been hell for him. Just like it’s been for her. She pushes another espresso, this one untouched, in his direction. “How much time do you have?” English feels foreign on her tongue. It’s been weeks, months maybe, since she’s had a real conversation not in French. It’s an act. This is all an act, but one her life depends on. Every minute she spends walking the arrondissements is a risk. The fear curls around her spine a little too tightly. She glances around the coffee shop, eyes scanning through without spending too long on any one thing. It can’t look obvious, only effortless.

“Not nearly enough.” Aaron wonders how much she knows about this, just what Clyde told her about the logistics of his visit. “We have about forty eight hours.”

He doesn’t miss the longing, wistful look in her eyes when she nods, the slightest tip of her head. It’s not enough time, it never will be. But it’s all they have, all they might ever have. They speak in short sentences, vague and cryptic, as they sip the espresso. It’s stronger than he expected, she seems immune to its effects. She doesn’t call him Aaron, and he’s careful not to call her Emily. He doesn’t know her new name, either. Not even Clyde could give him that information - it was probably better that way. They make superficial conversation - the rain here and the heat there, the bakery on the corner with chocolate croissants and the headlines on the newspaper that sits on the table. He plays along as she explains, as if he fits into this world she’s had no other choice but to assimilate into. To anyone in the cafe, they could be old friends, lovers even, with years of history between them, a casual intimacy spun like a web. The ease of lulls in conversation, a subtle glance every so often, the comfort of the proximity of someone else.

And hidden somewhere in their conversation, behind a facade of lies, is something else. What no one knows, what they haven’t quite managed to forget themselves, is something happened between them once before.

...

It was spring, after the dust had settled from Foyet and the world started to turn again, albeit slowly. Only when things settled into a new kind of normal - the humble experience of single parenting, relying on Jessica like he never had before - did Aaron realize something had changed between them. Perhaps it was the unwavering way Emily stood by him even when he wouldn’t admit to needing it, or how she picked up his loose ends without making him feel like his life was unraveling before his eyes. It was the way she mourned Haley’s death, a steadfast presence at her funeral, and her attentiveness to Jack in the months after.

He’d been divorced for more than a year, separated for at least two. Aaron no longer mourned his marriage, but the loss of his son’s mother, the woman he’d shared more than half of his life with. But someone else started to preoccupy his mind - dark hair, a blinding grin, a wicked sense of humor. It was becoming harder to ignore; she was everywhere. So a few months later in the spring, when he found Emily, nursing a drink at the hotel bar that had clearly seen better days, after a particularly brutal case in Scranton, he knew exactly how the night would end. It would cross a line - railroad through any professional boundary they still maintained. But an unsub had walked free earlier that night, a child was dead, and while it wasn’t her fault, he watched any trace of composure vanish from her face when they got back to the hotel as she retreated into herself.

It shouldn’t have happened that way - definitely not how he imagined it would. But Emily was desperate in her need to forget, he was desperate to help her do so. It was frantic, the clash of her teeth against his an ironic reminder that this was the first time he ever kissed her. Aaron pressed her back against the wall, sucked a bruise into her neck, and buried himself inside of her with one smooth push. He swallowed her moans with his mouth, the snap of his hips brutal and sharp. She reveled in it, her need for him and this, legs hitched over his hips as she clenched around him.

“Wanted you for so long,” he growled as she came around him. Her fingers were like vices around his shoulders, clinging to him as he fucked her through it, unrelenting. “Thought about you, about this.”

“Me too,” Emily gasped, the simple admission triggering his own release until he came apart and took her with him one more time.

Aaron had to carry her to the bed in the middle of his hotel room. It was the most gentle he’d been all evening, gingerly placing her in the center of it, following her down and pulling her into his arms. She was bruised and sore, he wore the scratches of her nails on his back and shoulders. Emily curled into him like she’d been doing it forever, snuggling into his chest. “I still can’t feel my legs.”

“We should have done that a long time ago,” he mused into the darkness, dragging his fingertips down her spine, listening to her slow, even breaths. It’s an admission more than an observation, and the low laugh that comes from her is all the confirmation he needs to know she thinks the same thing.

It happened again hours later, in the middle of the night, this time softer, slow and unhurried. He made her come twice with his mouth, coaxing her through each one. Aaron took his time, marveling at her and whispering praises into her skin. She beamed under his touch, besotted under his gaze. He studied the sharpness of her ribs, the curve of her waist, the length of her legs. And then he held her hands in his own above her head, rocking into her, metronomic and even. He kissed her like a lover should, his lips still wet with her slick, her legs pressed tightly wrapped around his waist as she crested against him. He collapsed against her shortly after, grappling for her hands, leaving kisses along her collarbones - anything to be as close to her as he possibly could.

But it was over after that.

Timing once again failed them. Not because they didn’t have the chance, but because they were both afraid something would change, whatever friendship they built over time, and they wouldn’t be able to take it back. They never talked about it, never even acknowledged anything had happened in that hotel room in Scranton once it was over. It lingered between them, the awareness of it sometimes all-consuming if she got too close or they somehow ended up sitting beside one another on the jet. But things happened - JJ’s untimely departure, coupled with Seaver’s arrival, the grueling toll of case after case. It was buried, hidden behind the burden of their jobs and the baggage they carried, both too stubborn to admit what was right in front of them.

And then she slipped away, shortly after a case in Montana. Emily’s typical professionalism, her unmatched level of skill was marred by uncharacteristic lateness and a short fuse, as if something had settled into her mind that she couldn’t shake. She was secretive and jumpy, slowly withdrawing from them all before his own eyes. And he’d been too caught up in what they weren’t saying, what they were hiding from, to even ask what was wrong.

Aaron never saw it coming. Until it was too late.

…

The cafe suddenly feels suffocating, the four walls trapping them in. What started as an alluring scent of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries now feels cloying, overwhelming. It’s just a little too loud as their conversation fades into silence. After all, there’s only so much small talk that can be made when he only has one question. Why? Across from him Emily shifts in her chair yet still wears her pleasant smile, still playing the act she’s perfected over the last several months. But she’s tearing at her fingernails, a sure sign that she’s nervous. He knows her tells by now, all of them. “What do we do now?” She asks, her voice barely audible. Whether it’s intentional or not he isn’t sure,

He leans in, takes her hand in his own. “Let’s get out of here.”

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #so not canon #hotch x prentiss #I love these two idiots so much #but I will make their lives angst and hell for a little bit #and slow clap for Clyde Easter #angsty but no one dies I promise

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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 7/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

"You always hide here when you're down," Geto said, stepping onto the rickety floors of the abandoned wooden gazebo at the far edge of the walled gardens. It was meant to be torn down but for your insistence for it to stay erect.

He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag when you didn't answer, huddled on one of the corners of the hexagonal structure. "You really shouldn't have done that," he told you, his voice ringing crisp in the still air.

"You should really quit that dirty habit," you muttered in a form of retaliation, not really in the mood to be lectured.

"I could say the same with your games, Y/N!" he said harshly, the first time he ever would. It was more for the fact that he felt frustrated that you kissed him all for the benefit of another man as opposed to merely scolding you for whatever wrongdoing you've committed. He felt all the more frustrated that he was doing it at all.

"I'm sorry if I dragged you into this," you told him sincerely. "I shouldn't have –"

"I am not sorry," he interrupted you. "I wanted that for a while now."

"What?" You stood up and walked towards him, making him turn to face you. "What are you talking about?"

Geto placed a hand behind his neck, exhaling exaggeratedly and throwing his head back, closing his eyes momentarily before meeting your blue gaze. "I understand why Kento is taking this harder than what you're expecting." He sighed. "It probably would have been better if you kissed Yuuji instead."

You just blinked at him, perplexed. "I don't get it."

It's now or never. He wanted you to know at least before you made up your mind, but knowing you, he knew you already did. And he wasn't going to be your choice. "Look, I like you. I wanted you for myself ever since you entered university."

"Huh?"

"And three years ago, I told Kento about how I felt," he droned on. "And maybe he thinks that's still the case, that I am still his rival where you are concerned."

"So are you?" you demanded.

He shook his head, smiling as he blew smoke at the opposite direction. "I know a losing game when I see one, and honestly, I'm rooting for the two of you."

You clutched at his arm. "Suguru..."

He ruffled your hair, throwing his cigarette away and hugging you to his side. "Don't get me wrong, princess. I was hurt that I wasn't your favorite anymore. I wanted to tell you, but you beat me to it and told me you liked Kento instead."

"You'll always be my favorite," you said. "You guys don't get replaced, not to me. I love you all differently, and I have things I share with each of you that I can never have with the other."

Geto's eyes widened slightly at your words. "I'll hold you to that." He snickered then. "Seriously though, where the hell did the two of you get things so wrong? Everything just went to shit in a matter of hours. And I thought Ieiri and I were being very specific with our instructions to you."

"Ieiri?"

"She's been talking to Kento, too. You two are just too dense and slow."

You punched him on the arm, glaring at him.

"Ow!" he grumbled, rubbing at the sore spot. "I'm a model, you know. You're not supposed to mark me."

"Oh, is that what you tell all your girls?" you teased.

He rolled his eyes at you. "Kento already made it back to the house. You should apologize."

You stood on your toes and kissed him on the cheek, hugging him tight.

"You might want to refrain from doing just that, princess," he said but you just giggled and made your way back to the manor. "You're still my favorite!" you called out.

He took another stick if cigarette, chuckling at you, but as he was about to light it, he opted not to.

You've done it this time. You just knew it. You realized that when you sobered up from all the crying you did after the incident at the lake. It was too late to say you should have listened to Yuuji and regret wasn't really something you could relate to. Typically. Now, you wanted him to say, "I told you so." Him and Megumi. Throw in Nobara, too, but you knew you weren't going to forgive yourself if things didn't turn back the way they used to be where you and Nanami were involved. That was all you were hoping for if he really has been put off by the mere idea of you.

Geto was just as much of a trickster as you are, but what you did not foresee was the result and his reaction to you, and you weren’t exactly ready for the his confession. That was a first and after speaking with him, you understood. Nanami was downright outraged. He might have not gone all out on you about the matter but you knew there was something else he wasn't saying. He has always been considerate of your feelings, and you were afraid you've trampled on his. It was regardless of whether you meant it or not. You just crossed the line.

The situation wasn't good, and you knew Gojo would have killed you if he saw just how you were behaving at the lake, and you could just pray to every higher being out there that he never gets to find out or you’ll have no choice but to sit down and listen to his lecture. He may be averse to the idea of you dating any of his friends, and he may be the best brother anyone could have, but he would definitely not tolerate what you have done.

A bigger part of everything that’s been happening was your fault. You knew it, and you weren't afraid to admit it either. Although Nanami may have his faults for being so much of an over-thinker and being indecisive, he was right. Why couldn't you be a normal person for once and just be honest about how you feel? Why couldn't you just tell Nanami you loved him and you have been in love with him for the longest time? Again, you couldn't relate to the idea because you haven’t ever been able to healthily express your opinion, but enough was enough. You were going to do it tonight. It didn't matter what the result was. You wanted him in your life, and you’ll go through lengths to have him.

After tossing and turning on your bed for what seemed like hours and later wearing a path on your bedroom floor while fidgeting on the hem of your silk robe, you finally decided there was no way you were sleeping. You couldn’t if it saves you when the dread of him totally disappearing because of what you do gnawed at you from the inside.

You were worried sick of Nanami who disappeared after the incident. You called him on the phone several times but every attempt went straight to voicemail, and out of your frustrations, you found yourself retreating to that same spot where Geto found you. You were only able to rest easy when he spoke to you, telling you that Nanami already made it back to the manor.

Functioning on instinct, you got out of your room barefoot, the flaps of your robe flying behind you as you marched towards the guest room where he was staying. You even had your fist raised to knock on the door but at that very moment, you stopped. For the first time, you felt vulnerable. You didn't have a clue about what you would say to him the moment you see him. You didn't know how you would approach him or if it was already the right time to do so. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

Digging your nails into your palms, you listened for movement on the other side of the door when you heard the door to the adjoining bath open and close, followed by the quiet padding of bare feet on the carpeted floor. Your breath snagged, thinking of turning away. You decided to do just that but then, the door suddenly opened, making you squeak in surprise, the sight of him dressed in just his navy pajama bottoms causing you to ogle his muscular chest and abdomen.

Well shit, you thought. He was beyond hot.

"Er..."

"What is it, Y/N?" he asked, sounding mostly tired than mad. He didn't look happy to see you, but at least he didn't slam the door to your face. Too much of a violation to his manners, you surmised, tempted to tease him, but you opted not to. You weren't in any position to be playing your little games.

You exhaled in batches before you finally found your voice. "I... n-need to talk to you. Can I...come in?"

He just looked at you for a moment before taking a step back and opening the door wider for you. He then turned his bare back to you as he walked over to the bed, the muscles on his sides and back flexing with each movement. He then motioned for you to sit on the chair situated quite far from him before he himself sat down, waiting for you to talk.

You didn't sit down and instead stood behind the chair, gripping its back. "Look, I'm sorry."

He ran his fingers through his damp, blond locks, looking like a model for an expensive underwear brand as he did so. "Hmm. Are you now?"

Your throat grew dry, wishing you could smack yourself right there and then for thinking of other things when you were supposed to be apologizing sincerely to him. You knew that he was trying to be sardonic but you couldn't help but think how mesmerizing he sounded. Composing yourself, you nodded. "I am. Suguru and I –"

"I don't wish to hear it, Y/N."

"It didn't mean anything!" you finally snapped, breathing heavily and not realizing you've crossed halfway towards him. You stopped, catching yourself just in time. "I just..." You sighed. "I just wanted to make you jealous."

“Well, what the hell, Y/N! You’ve succeeded.” His jaw clenched as he said the words, eyes intent on you and unrelenting. “And guess what, you’ve done more than just make me feel jealous. You made me feel guilty, too, because I can’t help but think that I pushed you to do that because of what I said to you this morning. Are you happy?”

“No…” You shook your head, your breath snagging. “I was being selfish. None of it is your fault so you don’t have to feel that way. You’ve been trying to talk to me all day, and maybe I should have given you the chance, but being me, I relied on my baser instincts and made a game out of things again.”

He stood this time, towering over you. "That's all you know. Games," he told you quietly, his tone at odds to his words. "You never really cared who gets played in the end as long as you're amused." He reached over and picked up a few strands of your hair before flicking them off his fingers in disdain. "Isn't that what it is?"

His words hurt. "No..."

"Unfortunately, I got caught up in it, all the while thinking that maybe you'll spare me because..." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I lost again. Congratulations."

"I'm sorry."

"Sure." He scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm tired, Y/N," he said as he sat down on the bed, burying his face into his hands.

This was it, you thought to yourself. You can't miss your chance. It was regardless of the consequences. You told yourself that. You were not going to back down even if it means you get hurt. Even if it means he would reject you.

Without thinking twice, you moved closer to him, settling on your knees directly in front of him just by his feet. You reached for his hands, gently easing them away from his face. You smiled at how big they were compared to yours, his palms rough against your fingertips. He let you pull them away, slowly moving of their own accord to cup your face, his dark, intense eyes searching yours.

"Y/N, I can't do this anymore."

You chuckled even as tears glistened in your eyes. You brushed his hair away from his forehead. "You read minds now?"

"I'm serious."

"Forgive me. I couldn't help it."

"What are you –"

Before he can finish what he wanted to say, you pushed yourself up on your foot and pressed your lips against his. You felt him stiffen against you, his hand tightening over the slope of your hips as you pushed him forward. You placed your left foot on the bed just beside his thigh while your hands took possession of his face, smiling into the kiss when he finally moved and reciprocated in kind. Your toes curled in anticipation.

He pulled you down, mouths enmeshed, breaths in sync, until you were leveled to him. He raised a hand, placing it on the side of your face, making you lean against its warmth. Your eyes flew open when he pulled away and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering there before he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheek just beside your mouth. Nanami closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead against yours, his hand soothingly rubbing at your bare thigh.

He was breathing deeply, brows furrowed together. Unable to help it, you started planting butterfly kisses where you could reach, capturing his lips again, hand gently caressing his jawline. Nanami twisted around, laying you on the mattress and hovering over you, continuing to kiss you. His scent had stuck to the sheets engulfing your senses and rendering everything nonexistent but him. You were lost in a world filled with nothing but him and the feel of his hands roaming all over your body in slow, sensuous movements as if he was blindly mapping out your every contour and curve.

"I don't think we should be doing this," he breathed out, chuckling quietly, but in the next moment, he sought entrance to your mouth, his hot tongue finding yours, stealing your breath. You held on tight to him, thinking he was overthinking things again, easing his mind by returning his ministrations in kind, and locking him in place with your arms wrapped around his nape. You moved your leg from underneath him, brushing your thigh between his legs, making his breath hitch when you applied the slightest of pressure, feeling him becoming stiff as you rocked your thigh back and forth against him.

Nanami drew back slightly, cutting the kiss. He opened his eyes, looking at you longingly, fingers tracing your shoulder. He looked at you with uncertainty as he fiddled with the lapels of your robe. "Tell me to stop."

At that, you smirked at him, your fingers also wandering up the expanse of his hard abdomen, slowly trailing fire up his chest to his collarbones. You bit your lip between your teeth as his skin seemed to grow warmer where you were touching him, the way he was unsteadily breathing adding to your thrill, beyond glad you had that effect on him.

"I don't want you to stop, Kento." You rose a fraction on your elbow and pecked him on the tip of his nose. "I want you."

He sighed then. “Y/N, if we’re going to do this, I want you to be certain.”

“Like a hundred percent certain?” you teased. “What’s the legal jargon for that? Do you want me to say, ‘Sustained,’ or ‘No objections, your honor’?” You giggled and he joined in, shaking his head. “Way to kill the mood though.”

“Sorry.” He flashed you a rueful smile.

Reaching out, you cupped the side of his face, eyeing him with as much conviction and certainty as you could. “You should know by now that I don’t do things I don’t exactly want to do. And when I say I want this – I want you – then that’s precisely what I want.”

He nodded slowly.

“You’re still overthinking.”

“I’m just thinking of what to say to Satoru –”

“You chose the wrong time to be talking too much.” You pulled him close, crashing your lips to his in reckless abandon. It was sloppy at best, but you hoped it would convey your certitude and confidence in what you were about to engage in with him. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Kento, I could cry just having you this close to me.”

Your words seemed to have unlocked something in him as his pupils dilated and his clear eyes clouded with want, and you couldn’t have been more glad that you decided to tell him how you honestly felt. Nanami lowered his head, claiming your lips with his in a slow, gentle kiss, his lips making love to yours in a seductive rhythm that spoke volumes of what he can’t typically express with mere words. The urgency in his kisses increased and you matched his fervor with yours, slightly rising off the bed to meet him halfway, taking as much as you could as he took from you – your breath, your heart, your soul.

As if a switch flipped, his gentle movements turned careless as he grabbed your shoulder and slid the robe off you, throwing it somewhere behind him, eyes alight with excitement as he further undressed you, pulling your matching nightie down, smirking when he discovered you weren’t wearing a bra underneath.

“You planned this,” he rasped.

You grinned smugly at him. “Maybe I did.”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, attacking your neck with open-mouthed kisses while his large hands took possession of your breasts, kneading them. You gasped when he caught one of your nipples, twisting it experimentally and watching your reaction when he latched his mouth onto the other, licking around it before giving it a particularly hard suck.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, eyes blowing wide when you heard the sound of your silks being ripped off of your body followed by a soft growl as he continued to devour your tender swells of flesh. His hands reached down, covetously taking your thighs, humming against your breast at the warmth and softness of your skin underneath the rough pads of his palms. He drew one hand upwards to the flimsy lingerie you were wearing, ripping it away wildly as well, making you gasp.

“Hey, don’t –”

Any protests you had died in your throat when he reached down the apex of your legs, his fingers immediately teasing your folds and rubbing gently. “Do you feel how wet you are, my love?” he rasped. “You want me this much?” When you didn’t answer, he prompted you by putting more pressure on the sensitive nub, making you buck off of the sheets with a squeaked out, “Yes.”

Your nether lips were slick with arousal and your clit started to become engorged as he touched you there, making you whine in pleasure as you carelessly threw your arms back on the mattress. He spread your legs wider, giving himself full access to your body while you lay there with hooded eyes, watching him have his way around you, his pupils dilated as he drank in every contour of your body.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, groaning in approval when you slightly arched your neck backwards, reveling in his touch. He started rubbing your clit in circles with just enough pressure to have you gripping on the sheets while his free hand took hold of your exposed breasts, kneading the supple flesh between his fingers. Nanami delighted in the way you looked writhing under his mercy, eyes hazy and mouth partly opened as you let out pleasured sounds, wishing to know how he can make you moan and tremble even more.

Nanami withdrew his hand from your chest and traced down the expanse of your belly until he reached your pelvis, securing you in place as he inserted his long digits into your throbbing cunt, going in and out. He chuckled softly at the sight of you taking his fingers in, the lewd sounds coming from your pooling juices as you clenched around him, spurring him on. He pressed down on your clit around and around, over and over again, circling around that sensitive part of you.

“Just like that,” you mewled, your hips lifting off the mattress to grind against his hand, meeting the friction he was creating and amplifying your desire.

He smirked as he hovered over you. “You just love this, don’t you?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out, feeling your first orgasm hitting you when he started erratically thrusting his fingers into you, the movement of his wrists quick while every thrust was accompanied by your snagged breaths.

Feeling himself getting harder and more titillated with the way your body tossed and turned beneath him, with his free hand, he shoved down his silk pajama bottoms, tossing it away along with his underwear, releasing his cock from its confines. He was, however, taken aback when you suddenly pushed yourself up, smirking at him as your eyes shifted between his dark orbs and his erection, thick, long and pulsating.

Without a warning, you pushed against him, your hands tight on his broad shoulders until his back was against the mattress. Having successfully turned tables on him, you straddled his lap and claimed his lips for your own, kissing him hard and unrelenting while your hands ran down his pecs, down to his hard abs, one of them racing faster than the other as you reached for his length, wrapping your fingers around it, its heat sending you on a wild rush.

“You’re so hot,” you droned absently, making him smile.

“You’re hotter when you’re trying to dominate me like this,” he responded, chuckling.

“Don’t I always though?” you teased, your grip on him tightening slightly while you ran your thumb over his tip, spreading his precum all over the pinkish head, making him quaver in delight. Whatever response he had in mind died right there and then when you lifted yourself up aligning yourself with him. You grabbed the base of his length, guiding him leisurely inside you, the slow pace driving you both on the edge. Your legs shook slightly as you slid down onto him, using his firm thighs to anchor yourself until you were fully sitting on him, his cock buried deep inside you.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, out of breath, feeling himself nestled in your warmth, fitting tight and snug as if you were made just for him. He sat up slightly, holding onto your hips as he slid out slowly, almost to the hilt, holding you up before very gently easing his way back inside, continuing with that slow pace, building a rhythm you both got used to. You held onto his shoulders, meeting every languid thrust halfway, establishing connection with every movement of your bodies.

“Ah…Kento…” you keen, as you both moved against each other, feeling every part of each other against yourselves, melding in a soft embrace as you rode him up and down. You both couldn’t get enough of each other, your nails digging on his back while his hands held your waist in a bruising grip. Your hips met each other in a steady rhythm, the sounds of your moans filling the room, mingling with skin slapping on skin and distinct squelching as you repeatedly swallowed his cock into your hole, making you crumple in rapture.

He reached up, placing a hand at your nape, making you lean closer to press his mouth onto yours, your tongues meeting in a duel, your whimpers drowned out by the action. He released your lips in favor of your neck, progressing downwards as he nipped on your flesh, all the way to your collarbones until he reached your breast, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, making your toes curl as his ministrations brought about sensations that hyper-stimulated every one of your senses.

You luxuriated in everything that was him, the feel of his mouth on you, his length filling you up to the brim over and over again, in and out with every push, his smell, his warmth, the excitement leaping in his eyes while he focused on pleasuring you. You were caught in the midst of your love and fondness for everything that made up Nanami Kento, voicing it out by repeatedly saying, “I love you,” or broken parts of it anyway as if a prayer of fragmented pleas and exultation as he made you his.

He paused when he heard you say it, pulling away, his eyes wide as he gazed at you with his cloudy eyes suddenly becoming clearer while his vision focused on you. “Say that again,” he said.

“I love you,” you murmured, feeling your face grow warm at his unabashed scrutiny. Then again, “I love you,” with more conviction this time. “I’m madly in love with you, Kento.”

“You are?” he asked as if in disbelief, his mouth stretching into smile, eyes filling with joy when you nodded. And along with that, he felt himself growing even harder as if a silent affirmation to how he felt about you. “I love you, too.” He kissed you and laid you down on the bed. “So damn much.”

Nanami settled himself between your legs, placing them over his shoulders as he realigned himself with you, pushing in without preamble and pounding into you in a faster rhythm than earlier. He slid so easily inside of you as he pushed forward and pulled out again and again, the new position making your walls grip tighter around him while he fucked you deeper. He relished the way he was spreading you apart, mesmerized by the way you were connected.

“More,” you purred when you felt him hitting you right where you wanted him over and over again, making you see galaxies of stars as he rammed into you. “Right there.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” he panted, dipping himself even deeper. “You like that? You like how daddy fucks you?”

Your eyes shot open when he said that, knowing you were seeing a new facet of him you’ve never encountered before. But you were not able to dwell on that when you were prompted to respond with a rough, hard thrust, saying, “Yes, daddy. I do…so m-much,” when he pulled out all the way and shoved his dick back in, and in that same instant, you found yourself creaming around him. Your essence dripped down onto the sheets as he continued to thrust faster into you, his breath hitting your skin with the rhythm of his movements as he moaned your name, planting butterfly kisses on your neck.

“You’re so good,” he said as you clenched tighter around him. “Give me one more, baby.”

He hastened his pace even more, rising up with one of your legs hanging on his arm while his free hand reached down, playing with your clit, applying pressure and setting the tempo of his movements with his length which slid in and out of you unabatingly. Your moans were getting louder while your brain felt like it would turn to fizz as your heart pounded in your chest, holding onto the build of that familiar pooling of heat in your loins. In a sudden flurry of sensations, your body lifted clear off the bed as you came long and hard.

Nanami rode you through it, going even harder and rougher as groans started to spill out of his mouth, ending in a crescendo of your sensual cries and a dragged out moan from him as he came inside you, his white, hot seed coating your walls and overflowing out of you.

Closing your eyes, you tried to catch your breath, feeling a shiver run down your spine as you came down from your high. Everything felt detached and surreal as your mind started filling with thought after thought, dominated with nothing but the fact that he just made love to you, the idea not quite sinking in despite the panting, boneless mess that you are at that moment.

You gasped when you felt him pulling out of you before hovering over you to place a kiss on your forehead. You forced your eyes open to look at him, cracking into a crooked grin when you finally looked at him, his hands brushing away stray strands of hair from your sweat-matted forehead.

“I love you, Y/N,” he told you in hushed tones, while you were unable to do anything but nod weakly as your body succumbed to exhaustion.

He bet everything on Gojo’s wedding week. And it was all worth it.

The whole matter has not sunk in just yet, so much so that he didn’t get a wink’s sleep trying to make sense of it all, but mostly afraid that he will wake up in the morning and find that everything was just a dream. A very vivid, beyond pleasant dream. But the sun rose in the horizon, and as he lay there awake, he had his proof of everything that happened beside him, asleep and very much real, pressed against his side.

When you came to him the previous night, he was certain things between you would end. If he was being honest, he has had it with your playing. He didn’t know exactly what your aims were the previous night until you made the move. Again, if he was being honest, he was also being a coward, always the one at the end of the rope you were reaching for. He wanted to switch your positions for a change, but when he did, it felt like he was getting nowhere, just pulling the rope without anyone at the end.

He thought he had lost when you kissed Geto in front of him, didn’t know what to do with the information when you said you were doing it to make him jealous. And no matter how low you went just to get his attention or to retaliate to his lack of response to you the previous day, he couldn’t say he didn’t like that you did it, too. He didn’t like it per se, but your motivations behind it spoke volumes of how you felt. He was just too blind to see it.

You were right about certain things, one of them being the fact that he was supposed to know you and understand how you communicated. Another was the fact that it wasn’t too much for you to ask him to be selfish for his sake and yours. He had wanted to act exactly that way for a long time, and when you were giving him the chance, he walked away from it instead. And as per usual, you were the one who fought your way against him for the same aim of having him.

He sighed, shifting to his side to face your slumbering form. He felt his heart melting at the sight of you softly breathing and appearing so serene snuggled against him and wearing his shirt. He could almost laugh when you suddenly fell asleep on him right after he made love to you. He sighed, knowing you wouldn’t wake up any time soon after you closed your eyes, decided to clean you up and dress you up before settling beside you, too.

But out of everything, since the previous night, whenever he would remember you telling him you loved him, his heart just stops for a second only to resume its beating in irregular staccatos. You told him you could almost cry having him that close to you, but he was the one who felt like shedding tears about having you.

He bet his heart knowing there was a possibility that you would just toy with it and break it. In the end, he finally got everything he wanted in your person. He should have already known that in order to get to you, he has to go through everything, have his heart shattered if that’s what it would take. He wanted to peel all your protective layers, but you ended up doing that to him instead, and it was safe to say you succeeded. Still, although he felt like dying when he saw you kissing Geto, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d go through it all again if it meant he would get you in the end.

Nanami caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, smiling when you scrunched your nose a bit, your brows furrowing slightly. Just then, your eyes opened, your ocean-blue irises devouring him in an instant in waves of emotions, the most dominant of them all being gratitude towards whatever higher power brought you to the world to exist and love him when you could have anybody else.

You broke into a sleepy grin the moment you saw him. “Good morning, daddy,” were the first words that came out of your mouth, teasing him the moment you woke up.

He felt heat suffuse his cheeks when you said that, flashing you a pained look. It hadn’t been embarrassing when he suddenly decided he had a daddy kink and wanted to hear you say it, but now that he has sobered up from the feel of you against him, he didn’t exactly want you to say it, not when you were mercilessly ragging him for it first thing in the morning. He didn’t detest it though.

Nanami diverted his gaze from you, his face turning red, but you abruptly rose slightly, grabbing both sides of his face to make him look at you.

“What are you getting all shy around me for?” you cooed. “Don’t you like it when I call you that?” You smirked. “Come to think of it, I was startled when you said that, too.”

“Are you making fun of me?” he said, pouting.

Your eyes rounded and you let go of him, even going to the extent of moving away from him.

“What?” he asked, suddenly panicked as he sat up, grabbing your arm, afraid you’ll walk away.

You clucked your tongue. “D-don’t do that…that p-pouting thing…” you spoke haltingly, unable to talk properly as you pinched the bridge of your nose, looking flustered.

“Do what?” he asked, not quite catching what you were saying.

“Don’t go acting cute so early in the morning. I’m not used to this side of you. Jesus, Kento,” you told him all in one go, your hands flailing about. “You’re messing with me.”

He arched a brow at you and started laughing heartily. You were genuinely distressed and he didn’t know what he would do with you. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t know you were not immune to my charms.” He pulled you towards him, making you face him. “How are you feeling by the way?”

“I’m fine.”

“Not sore anywhere?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Fishing for compliments now?”

He shook his head slowly, not understanding what you were talking about. “I don’t think we’re on the same page.” He started fussing around you then, even lifting his shirt which you were wearing, slightly looking for telltale signs of the possibility that he could have hurt you in any way when he spotted bruises on your hips. “Oh no.”

“Why?” you asked, blinking cluelessly when you saw what he was looking at. To your surprise, he suddenly took you in his arms, his expressions indicating distress. “What’s going on?”

“I hurt you,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

It was your turn to laugh. “You obliterated me, Kento, but I’m not sorry about it.” You pulled away from him and pecked him on the lips. “You were awesome.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I should go easy on you. I don’t really like the idea of injuring you in any way.”

You narrowed your eyes on him. “You’ve set the bar on how good you can be between the sheets. If you hold back on me, I’ll throttle you. Maybe I’ll ask Satoru for help, too.”

“What –”

“You’ve been warned, Nanamin.” You leaned forward, planting your face on his chest. “Stop worrying. I don’t regret anything, and if you make love to me as well as you did last night every single day, I’ll gladly have my battle scars.”

Nanami cupped your head, rubbing soothingly, his eyes meeting yours while a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“You love me.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I do. With all that I am.”

“Stop getting into a tizzy then.”

“Okay, Y/N.”

“Okay, Kento.”

“Are you always going to call me by my name now?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “I like it better than when you call me Nanamin.”

Your brows knit together then. “I’ve kinda gotten fond of that nickname though. But if that’s what you want, I’m down for it, too.” You grinned at him. “Kento.”

Nanami broke into a smile, but then you said, “Can I always call you 'daddy' instead?” He rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance. “I’ll throttle you.”

You chuckled. “My mother would flip!”

“Satoru would flip.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. The two of you stayed that way for a few moments, just enjoying the comfortable silence while you listened to his heartbeat and basked in his warmth, his muscular arms wrapped around you securely. You’ve never felt safer.

You were, however, the first to break it.

“Kento?” you began.

“Yes, my love?”

“What are we now?”

“You’re all mine and I’m yours,” he stated firmly.

“So we’re official?”

He scoffed. “If last night wasn’t enough to make us official, I’d be happy to prove it further to you. You’re the woman I’ll marry. I’m not giving you a choice on that.”

You snickered. “Fine.”

“Fine?” he repeated with inflection, pushing you down on the mattress while he hovered over you. “Why do you sound as if you don’t like it?”

You burst into bubbles of laughter. “I’m not complaining…”

“But?”

“If that’s the case, I want Satoru to know first before the others. Is that okay?”

He nodded. “That’s just fair, I think.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you. When do you want us to tell him?”

You held his hand, entwining your fingers together and beaming tenderly at the way yours were engulfed by his. “Soon. Very soon.”

-end of part 7-

Aaaaand we're down to the second to the last chapter. This one's rather self-indulgent and I got carried away with the the "daddy" thing lol. Anyway, I would like to say thank you to everyone who's been reading this fic and looking forward to my updates. You guys make me happy!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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og-danny-dorito · 4 years

Text

{ Some SFW Tamaki Headcanons For Your Daily Dose Of Somft™}

OKAY hi hello, I know I've been gone for a while but I'm kinda back now since ive had a burst of inspiration lately for no reason in particular. This is partially cause I actually just finished watching BNHA and good lord, let me tell you bro- I have WAY too many thoughts about this dude for it to be a normal infatuation so here we go! -w-;

- FIRST of all, I'm like 90% sure this dude listens to like really soft cute music like Lofi remixes or those rlly cute anime openings that give off Soft Boy vibes???

- he's like a soft person in general already so its kindof a given. he really likes pastel colors a whole lot for that reason cause they're more muted and subtle and aren't completely overbearing

- he actually owns like, 40 oversized pastel sweaters with various prints and designs on them for that reason. that and oversized soft sweaters are year-round

- most of his clothes are kinda oversized though?? like if you've watched the anime and can see how his shirt fits him I'm like 90% sure it's like a size bigger than it should be (his natural size is a medium in men's, I'm assuming, since he's like canonically 5'9" and not really muscular). his hero costume is also a little bigger than it should be in some areas and it fits around him like a big blanket

- there are MULTIPLE reasons for this imo, but the main two are that he's A) self conscious and therefore less confident in things that fit him better, and B) likes feeling like things aren't constricting him like tight shirts do

- on the self-conscious point, he already has issues with about like 500 other things that concern himself, so why not physical???

- let me explain- his form is naturally slim, which means that he hasn't really ever been as physically muscular as the other heroes (mostly cause his quirk burns up most of his calories and he has a naturally fast metabolism), and is consistently reminded of it

- he doesn't want other people to think of him as less or weaker in the general public because he doesn't look as physically strong as the other heroes, so he wears clothes that aren't very form fitting to hide this fact and therefore avoid the possibility of criticism of is physical features

- also, you're on tumblr, the land of people who are or have been physically self conscious for whatever reason, so it's pretty safe to assume that you've worn/wear oversized clothing. do you know how comfy they are??? it's like being wrapped in a formless blanket that makes it feel as if you arent able to be subject to criticism from others. it's literally the BEST

- his closet really just consists of things that are bigger than him really, but he does have some skinny jeans and a few formal outfits that fit him properly. his figure is actually kind of cute in a way since he's more on the slim/muscular side but if you EVER tell him he looks handsome in something that's more fitting than he ususally wears he will have a slightly boosted self confidence but amplified anxiety, no exceptions

- but he doesnt really like receiving compliments to be honest, and there's a few reasons for that

- as a kid not many people talked to him so he would occasionally be subject to being outcast by others. as a child he knew that when the teachers were being too nice to him by complimenting his work or talking too him too much that it was out of pity. he felt like he was being patronized out of personal obligation to be inclusive and not in personal interest, so he still has some remnants of that mentality due to having grow up with that

- being given a serious and genuine compliment isn't something he's used to and quite frankly he might be a little uncomfortable if he doesn't know you very well

- if, however, he knows you well and trusts that your comments aren't out of spite or ill-intent, his face usually turns a bright shade of red as he either A) stutters out a nervous thank you or B) hides his face in his hands and refuses to say anything until it's subsided

- he'll usually try to compliment you back, even though its hard to hear over his incredibly soft voice. it's usually something about how nice you are or how he doesn't understand how someone like you can think that way about him, but he secretly really likes feeling like someone cares and appreciates him

- speaking of soft voices, I'm almost entirely convinced that he can sing. since he doesn't really go out with friends in his spare time since he basically only has two close ones, he usually either trains or, alternatively, sings

- its more of a subconscious thing to him to sing along when his favorite song is on, but he only does it when he's alone. the thing is that he thinks his voice is horrible since he hasn't had any extensive formal education in music and generally doesn't try that much to refine his skills manually but his singing voice is like, literally angelic

- seriously, if you get this man to sing 'Heather' by Conan Grey its like listening to some sort of ethereal being trying to lull you to sleep

- its not like he'd ever do this in public because of his anxiety and insecurities, but asking him nicely and swearing you won't tell anyone about it usually gets him to do it, albeit kinds shyly at first. it takes some working up to really, from him nervously singing gently to a song while his back is turned to you to just starting to hum along to songs by habit while you're around

- the only time he really does it to his own violation can be when you're sick (he cant say no to someone who's injured, it makes him feel terrible), when you're about to fall asleep, or even when he forgets that he's around other people and is doing some sort of chore or task around the house

- mentioning it to others makes him even more embarrassed than physically possible, and he usually covers his ears to mask the sounds of your praise about him. he hates drawing attention to himself and simply cannot Deal™ with the compliments he's receiving

- this is amplified if you're in a romantic relationship with him since, lets be completely honest here, he's literally never been in a relationship before

- I mean like, if that one girl who was with him for a week in 5th grade counts for anything, then I guess he's been in one before but other than that he has no experience

- how does he accept compliments? how do you genuinely love him?? should he dress better when around you???? oh god, do you secretly hate a bunch of things about him and only like him because he's a good hero????

- there's literal pages in his search history dedicated to is panicked questioning about what he should do if you haven't told him you love him in more than a week, what he should do if he accidentally calls you the wrong name while making out/having sex, when it's acceptable to talk about getting a plant together without seeming like he wants to get married in that instant, etc.

- for this it doesn't matter whether or not you're experienced since its good both ways! someone who isn't experienced could help ease his nerves a bit since hey, you might not really know what you're doing ether, so you're both gonna mess up. if you're a little more experienced then you can help show him the ropes and probably might help him improve in future relationships if you ever decide you don't want him anymore. both win-win situations basically

- it also doesn't really matter if you're male, female, or anything else since he's demisexual panromantic. your personality is basically the most important aspect to him, even though he still thinks you have the face of a god/goddess

- the first few weeks of the relationship are basically him figuring out when its okay to touch you and/or ask for you to touch him since he doesn't want to scare you off with how affectionate he can be

- and when I say affectionate, I mean like a full out cuddle-bug

- Tamaki is straight up touch starved so like jot that down. like high key he really didn't have much physical affection as a child and even now can’t really figure out how to do it since he doesn't have any experience with it. he still craves physical affection though, and consistently

- a good way to tell that he wants affection is that he sticks a little bit closer to you during the day. not exactly under your feet, but still in your space when he knows its appropriate. usually just giving him a long hug or hdoling his hand in private helps to alleviate it a little bit, but his favorite way to get affection is to sit down and either sit in your lap or have you sit in his lap

- the reason I say private though is because PDA makes him nervous. it already kinda draws attention to the two of you since the act of PDA is basically outing a relationship on display and that alone makes him nervous, so he usually avoids it unless its in a barely populated park, a quiet cafe, etc.

- so in public he's probably gonna stick close but not outwardly hold your hand by himself, but behind closed doors he's basically hanging on you wherever and however he can

- can you really blame him for liking you as much as you do? I mean you're patient with him, you genuinely like him, and you're so sweet that he doesn't even know what to do with himself. that, and you're super fascinating to observe

- not,,,- he doesn't mean that in a creepy way I swear. he means it like- he means that he likes watching you work because the way you move around catches his interest. part of his training is observing others and he already does it a lot due to being more of that type of person by default, so he can tell a lot about you just by watching you do simple tasks such as cleaning the floor or doing some work you need to get done

- his observance makes him a great partner when it comes to remembering small things about you like your favorite color, how you do your hair in the mornings, what your favorite band(s) is/are, and more! expect him to bring you small gifts that reminded him of you because of something you said four months ago at a very specific time and a very specific date and a very specific location

- this applies to anyone that he really knows or pays special attention to really, but you're one of those people that he subconsciously has encyclopedic knowledge of because he thinks about you so much all the time

- anyway, we're getting to the end so lets get to my favorite part of the list- miscellaneous headcanons! :

he really likes Conan Grey and Lofi remixes of songs that he likes since they're more on the calming side and less intense and help his nerves go down if he's feeling anxious

when he does get severely anxious he curls into a ball and pulls at his ears and cries. he's unresponsive for this time but usually just letting him calm down after a little bit on his own or telling him softly to listen to you helps

he likes insectariums a while lot, specifically the butterfly rooms where you can walk through and let them fly around you. for some reason they tend to be more prone to lighting on him than anyone else, even though he only really wears dark colors and doesn't make an effort to get them around him

he has some purple fairy lights set up above his bed in his room that look like glowing butterflies cause he thought they were cute

he's incredibly good at cooking complex and simple dishes since he usually has to eat large amounts of certain things for his ability, and almost always cooks for the two of you if you're staying long enough to eat with him. he's arguably one of the best home-taught chefs at UA besides Bakugo even though they specialize i different areas of cooking basically

- well, it looks like thats the end for this list! Tamaki is such a sweet dude, really. being his friend or lover is like having a cheerleader, an endlessly loyal supporter, and an eternally loving partner (and more) all rolled into one. once you've been nice to him like once he's automatically favoring you over others. it may be hard to try to help him get more comfortable with the things he's anxious with, but he's a fast learner and if it makes you happy it makes him happy too

- Be careful with him, and you've got a friend for life!

[ ~Thank You For Reading, and if you think I missed anything please let me know in the notes or in my inbox. Any feedback is heavily appreciated!~ ]

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queensgaybeach1d · 4 years

Note

HELLOOO, I just discovered your blog, shame on me. So, I read your masterpost about the stunts in the industry (great work btw) and was wondering how to tell if something is real or purely pr. Would you mind giving me a few pointers ?? Answer however and whenever you can.

Hello Sweetie,

Thank you so much for your lovely words. I would love to help you dig deeper into the PR industry. In fact, I did some research myself and I stumbled upon a great confirmation on how everything works. I think it is just the right fit for you, sweetheart.

Please take your time reading the post and if you have any questions or suggestions, please do not hesitate to ask me. Have a great day and enjoy!

Kisses,

Suman 😊

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How to spot a PR relationship?!

This post is made for everyone who would like to learn how to spot a fake relationship in Hollywood. This information is supported by a very reliable source. The name of the source is Jack Ketsoyan, he set up two PR relationships himself. If you would try to compare this to your favourite Hollywood couple, you might be surprised of the outcome. I wish you all the best while reading this and if you have any questions/suggestions please do not hesitate to ask. Enjoy! :)

This is the link of the podcast about the PR relationships (skip to 5.40). I will make a little summary of the very important things Jack said. There is also another man who is speaking about this subject. His name is Christopher and he is a lawyer who has worked with cases like these for a long time.

(Please note that I am in no way hating on anyone. I have a strong dislike for all ‘’beards’’, but what they do with their lives is their responsibility. Therefore I mean no harm to any of these people. It would be very sad if any of these people would do it because they needed money for their families. If that was the case I would truly feel sorry for them, but the thing is they want to become famous by dating someone else who put his/her hard work in his/her career. That it just not fair. There are plenty of ways to become famous by dedication, hard work and staying yourself.)

I want to give compliments to the lovely @Totallylost4you on twitter. She made me aware of the podcast.

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-’’To hide the artist’s sexuality; boosting of the careers.’’ --> (Louis, Harry, Zayn, Liam and Niall. Also, Kristen Stewart, Cara Delevigne and Taylor Swift) -->

‘’It is more common on the male side than on the female side. There are certain celebrities who were, back in the day, in the closet and it was not okay to be out. We live in a completely different time nowadays, these days being gay is okay. So back in the day that was the biggest secret, it was a big taboo, if a certain high profiled male, the heartthrob is all of a sudden gay, they were not going to get the bigger roles anymore. They were going to be type casted, so that was the big way of hiding things. Them hiding their sexuality was dating a female who would keep them in the limelight basically and cover it up.’’ [about closeting] ‘’Times have changed, it still happens, but a lot has changed.’’ --> There are still people who would not like attending a Harry Styles (the heartthrob) concert when he comes out as gay.

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-’’To be able to sell the hype of it.’’ --> (Whenever a picture of Taylor and Tom or Louis and Eleanor comes out, people are quick to retweet, post and talk about what happened. Within no time the pictures have traveled through the internet. Which automatically means that a lot of people have seen it. All of this gives the label/couple/artist attention and money. --> Whether it is bad attention or good attention, attention means money.) a few examples of these couples are also: Haylor, Zigi and Elounor.

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-’’To sell tickets to concerts or movies.’’ --> 1D world tours and solo tours. That is also why beards like Camille Rowe, Eleanor Calder and Maya Henry attend their concerts. As for movies think about Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart (who is gay) fake dating, moments after Twilight came out. Think about 1D bringing their fake girlfriends to the world premiere and Zayn and Perrie getting engaged a second after. The purpose of these events are attention. Sweethearts, whenever people go to these shows/movies all they will focus on is 1D and their ‘girlfriends’. Photos will spread faster than ever and people will talk about how ‘real’ they are. Their aim is to kill two birds with one stone; making them look like a ‘real’ couple whilst promoting their movie/album.

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-’’To sell albums.’’ --> (Zigi, Chiam, Elounor, Hamille, Nailee, Haylor.) Let us be honest, are they not the biggest reasons why antis buy the album? Just to see what stuff they write about their fake girlfriends/boyfriends. Just to see how ‘Camille’ pronounces ‘’Coucou’’or just because Gigi Hadid starred in Zayn’s music video. Or maybe to finally know the ‘truth’ about Taylor’s fake relationships.

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-’’It's all about the hype at the moment. Especially with the social media world.’’ --> I am going to point out an important thing Jack said. He said ‘’especially with the social media world.’’ Remember when there were only rumours of Louis and Eleanor being back together? The whole fandom tweeted about it. This made it popular and that was the solid moment 1D’s label knew that Elounor 2.0 would do it for them. They would earn a lot by it. The same thing counts for Zigi, Chiam, Haylor, Hamille. Hamille is a good example too. When all of you heard that Harry wrote a song about her and that her voice was going to be included in his song, what happened? Exactly, everyone went nuts and made sure to listen to that exact song. That is exactly what they want. They want that power over you, that is what gives them the money. Another example, how fast do you think solo Zayn stans and Directioners tweeted about a ‘power couple’ when the news broke that Zayn and Gigi are ‘expecting a child’? How fast did people open their social media accounts when Kylie Jenner was pregnant for the Kardashian’s 10th anniversary? (Social media does A LOT. Whenever a picture of Eleanor (beard) and Clifford (Louis’ dog) arrives on the internet, people automatically assume they are together in a room. This, is not the case. That is how convenient social media is to arranged relationships. Why start a rumour by hiring newspapers instead of posting a message on social media? It is much cheaper and more people will know about it in less than four hours.)

Promoting certain brand like Coca Cola (Elounor), YSL, Gucci, Vogue (Zigi) and Hugo Boss are also a part of it. Celebrities wearing those brands make their fans want to buy it too, think of the Kardashians promoting Adidas and other expensive brands. Also think of people like Briana Jungwirth promoting flat tummy tea. This is called ‘celebrity branding.’

Tell me, how many times do you get HQ pic of your PR couple on your phone? People tend to go out of their mind when pictures come out. That is the immediate effect Hollywood has on social media/ you. That gives them the promo they need, even during quarantine the beards post pictures of themselves, making you think they are together when in reality they are not. :)

{About why Jack hooked an arranged relationship up himself} --> ‘’It was more of a mutual agreement between the agents. {Tells a story about an actor getting bad reviews for a movie and in order to let people focus on something else they got the actor a girl, so the media would focus on the girl instead of the bad movie.}’’ --> ‘’Just a one year deal. Basically they finished of the press and the international press and then they went their separate ways, because she did not want to do a two year deal.’’ {interviewer asks if it worked} --> ‘’It worked.’’ --> A few examples of (approximately) a one-year deal: Calvin Harris and Taylor Swift, Niall Horan and Hailee Steinfield and Louis Tomlinson and Danielle Campbell. It is also good to point out that the beard can decide whether she wants to continue or not, but the celebrity has to do what the agent arranges.

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{Interviewer asks what reasons people might have to agree to one of these PR relationships} --> Different reasons, that could be to deflect attention away from a controversy (damage control. think of something Larry or Ziam related happening and the next day Zigi and Elouno are papped. Or fans finding out Louis is in the same country as Harry and the next day they will let Elouno do a pap walk. Another example is when Ziammies find out a Zigi picture is photoshopped, the next day you will see Zigi in person. This happens when their stunts fail). So if an actor has drugs and alcohol problems they may want to give the appearance that they have settled down and are in a committed relationships so that they can banked for films. Or they are going to be able to get bonded and get work and people will trust them, because they have settled down. It also could be done to create a brand. Two celebs getting together and 'now there's this tremendous interest about them being a power couple.' [...] We create strong provision against the disclosure of any negative facts against the celebrity - with consequences. So these agreements need to be structured with a hold back of money so that over time if they have complied with the agreement and not disclosed ehh no personal information and violation the agreement then they would be entitled the payment, so under the agreement. " --> The last part might be difficult to understand, because the lawyer uses difficult words, but what he is actually saying is very important. He says if the celebrities who are in the PR relationship have done their part (parading around with each other) then they will receive their money (please correct me if I am wrong). The host also confirmed that contracts like these are the reason why a lot of celebrities do not admit they had a PR relationships.

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Clues on how to spot a PR relationship:

-‘’The main clue you would see is if, you know, a certain high profiled male is dating a female (or when a high profiled female is dating a regular male), who was not high profile. All of a sudden, she is, overnight, the most talked about girl in Hollywood and everyone want a piece of them. That is the biggest thing, you know, it is such a career boost for the female that some females end up taking the deal.’’ --> Zigi, Elounor, Chiam, Brouis, Haylor, Taylor and Calvin. How does the world know Eleanor Calder? Because of Louis Tomlinson. No one knew her before, except her family. How did Gigi gain so many followers? Because she started dating Zayn Malik. Gigi already had a platform for herself, but she gained a lot of followers by dating Zayn. Zayn also gained followers by dating Gigi. Gigi needed promo and Zayn was in the spotlight, because he just ‘left 1D.’ This made him the perfect target. I hope all of you also notice that when beards/fake girlfriends post pictures of them with their fake boyfriend, it gets way more likes than their usual pictures.

{What was the benefit for the girl in the scenario?} --> ‘’Ehm, she has a huge career at the moment. She benefit from that by becoming a household name (someone that is well known) and getting bigger roles than she would have. She would use to be the 3rd or the 4th lead in any auditions or any jobs that she was getting. She then became the first lead. She got a great career boost out of it, for sure.’’ --> Gigi Hadid, Eleanor Calder, Sophia Smith, Cheryl Cole, Maya, Camille Rowe and Kendall Jenner are just a few examples.

How did the world know Townes? Because ‘Harry named’ her in one of his songs. How did the world know about Maya Henry? Because Liam Payne started dating her. Before this, she was just a fan. How did Cheryl Cole get the attention back? Because of baby gate and by fake dating Liam Payne. How did Briana gain so many followers? Because Louis Tomlinson fans gave her the attention and because she participated in faking a pregnancy. How did Shawn and Camilla become a couple in the spotlight? Because people have always shipped them, ever since the beginning and their label gave the fans what they wanted. How did Kim Kardashian become famous? A *** tape of her and Ray J leaked and she became famous. Now, she is a lot richer and more famous than he is. A quick note, not many people know how Kim Kardashian became famous. They only really know her from Keeping Up With The Kardashians. The newer generation does not know about the tape scandal, and that is what they do. You need to dig a little deeper to see that. This all is an on-going cycle and it will not stop unless we all stop believing it. 😊

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What do they do in order to make a PR relationship look real?

{Interviewer asks what the clauses in an arranged relationships contract are} --> ‘’An arranged relationship is estranged by definition. So certainly we are going to see requests that are equally odd. They are certainly going to have requirements as to how they hold themselves out to the public as a couple. This would mean appearances at award shows, parties or events together as a couple and that there would be requirements maybe for specific events.’’ --> Eleanor attending Jay’s wedding and being ‘maid of honor’, Calvin and Taylor at Award shows, Elounor at the fashions show 2013, Haylor and their NYE ‘kiss’, Zigi at the MET gala and Chiam at the Brits, celebs at after parties with their ‘girlfriends’. All of these couples have also pictures with each other’s family members. That made a lot of you think they are close and real, well my loves, now you finally know that it is all part of a PR stunt. The fake girlfriends also have to look supportive, that is why they have to be there at concerts, soccer matches, award shows etcetera. 😊

Remember when Eleanor (beard) posted a picture of herself and in the background you could see a picture of her and Louis in 2012 and ‘Louis’ written on a board? Remember when she posted a picture of herself with her and Louis’ boots in the background in 2018? All of these things are there to make it look like they truly live together and that they truly own each other’s stuff. The same thing counts for Haylor’s airplane necklace. Do you genuinely think they did that by accident? No, that is the purpose of the whole picture. 😊

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‘’Then there is going to be particularly some none disclosure issues surrounding them as to what cannot be said about the relationship and what needs to be said. There could be a script even as to what they have to say if asked about the relationships. There would be photo sessions showing them as a couple. And then I have seen issues of sexual relationships and specific whether this would happen or not happen in an agreement. But if it is truly a PR relationships then sex would not be a part of that relationship, because it is not real.’’ --> Loves, do you remember a moment when someone asked a celebrity about his/her relationships and they stuttered and looked uncomfortable, or they just said something wrong or embarrassing or tried to talk themselves out of it? Well, that happens when you have to make up stuff that never happened. Louis Tomlinson confirmed his interviews are scripted, so this one is just an extra thick layer of confirmation. I also recall Gigi doing a live and someone asked about Zayn and she just stuttered and looked away, not knowing how to answer a question. (I think there have definitely been times when two people who were in an arranged relationship gave different answers to the same question, why? Because they do not know anything about each other.) Here is an example of a moment that is repeated and scripted about Louis’ ‘relationship’ with Eleanor, even know we have legit proof that is not what happened:

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Now I can hear all your lovely brains working and thinking whether a celebrity is willing to sign a contract like that or if their label is making them sign it. Well, if you have read my previous masterpost about the music industry you can see confirmations of the label making the artist their puppet. They own you, so if they think you should have a girlfriend to hide gay rumours then they will give you one. ‘A label cannot force you anything’, but it does make you sign a contract. When you sign the contract without reading it carefully, then your label will mess you up. In those contracts they do not write ‘’Taylor Swift has to agree to arranged relationships.’’ They write stuff like ‘’When signing the contract, Taylor Swift allows the label to make changes in order to get her to fame.’’ Of course Taylor (and other artists) would think that they mean changing her outfit and looks, but no. The label thinks being gay is something that will not get people enough fame. So what do they do? They change her, they change her sexuality. They closet her and even though Taylor and other LGBTQ artists do not want that. You cannot deny because when you do so, the label will show you the contract you signed. A contract like that is never written literally, they can manipulate their words. To the label ‘’being gay or a part of the LGBTQ+ community’’ falls under ‘’making changes’’ in order to make her famous. Of course there are celebrities who willingly closet themselves for various reasons. I hope to create a single post about how devious these contracts are for you all! 😊

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Here are a few things I hope you have learned from this: 😊

- Fake relationships still exist and they will always exist. It has been confirmed, so no one can deny this anymore.

- The girl and boy have to go to special events, such as award shows, family dinners and weddings in order to make it look real.

- Homophobia is still a thing and the biggest reason why arranged relationships exist.

- The beard has a contract too, so your idol has no say in how long she can or cannot stay. If she does good then she will stay. (I see many people say that Louis chose Eleanor because they are friends and that is why she is back, but he actually has no say in anything. Your idol is their product to sell. Your idol is basically a marionette.)

-The PR team does everything to make it look like they are truly together, think of photos of each other in each other’s homes and ‘personal gifts.’

-Celebrities get an enormous boost on their social media accounts when they start being part of an arranged relationship. Something I have always thought was a bit odd, is the fact that Eleanor never created an insta account until her and Louis’ ‘relationship’ had its peak; in the middle of June 2012. When in reality, insta was created in 2010. She also created twitter in 2012. Exactly when the first few big events were attended by them. (I genuinely think she did that, because everyone wanted to see more of her. Plus, she has always wanted to be a fashion blogger and this was her ‘big moment’ to do so.)

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The credits for this post go to @Totallylost4you. They made me aware of the podcast and they continue to shine light on hidden treasures like this one. They also hardly get credits for their solid hard work and I hope they will continue doing this! Thank you!

Thank you so much for your attention. If you have any question/suggestion, please do not hesitate to ask/tell me! I wish all of you the best and please stay safe. Have an amazing day!

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moondrop04 · 4 years

Text

RWBY VOLUME 8 EPISODE 6 SPECULATION AFTERMATH!!!

SPOILERS!!!

Hello Hello Hello!!! XD Another Week........and ANOTHER episode of RWBY is out!!!! Sorry I am late AGAIN (busy with work) but let’s dive right in and see what I got RIGHT and what I Definetly got WRONG from my Speculation post!!

-(Cinder’s Backstory) Well it looks like we finally got our backstory for Cinder Fall after 8 years!!! 😄 I’ll be honest I wasn’t all that shocked when I first watched it because this was what I more or less expected her backstory to be. For such a power driven character like Cinder and her connection to the “Cinderella” tale I had imagined that she would have had a horrible childhood. The constant mistreatment and abuse she had to endure was really well portrayed through the narrative and with Casey’s singing in the background made it feel like I was watching a dark version of an old Disney classic. While it did accomplish to make me feel sympathetic for her, I still want for her to be an antagonist within the RWBY storyline. For me since volume 4 Cinder was much like Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang in a sense of their growth as protagonists. While Team RWBY grow as the main heroes (protagonists) in the story, Cinder is growing as the main villain (antagonist). Salem is no doubt the main villain of the story currently but to me I feel like Cinder will ultimately take her place at the end of the series. Whether that will be a wise decision or not all depends on how the writers handle her character moving forward and If they want to redeem and turn her to the good side then it’s all the same for me because I do think Cinder is great character in the series 🙂.

-(Oscar’s Torture) Phew......looks like I made the right call with this one in my speculation post!!! I knew my boy would take his punishment and not give up, but I did not expect him to also plan a way (with Ozpin) to try to turn Salem’s henchmen from her side!? Sniff......they grow up so fast!!! 😭 You Go Change Them Lime Boy!!! 😆

-(Winter and the Ace-Ops) Looks like I was wrong about them finding Penny this episode but it looks like there may be a pontential team-up with Yang, Jaune and Ren to look forward to in future episodes instead. With Salem finally bypassing Atlas’s shields, both sides may have to find a way to work together until they locate Penny and if they don’t hopefully Yang and the boys could try to convince Winter and Marrow to switch sides to rescue Penny.

-(Grimm River and Salem’s Attack) Ok I was totally expecting Salem to wait for Watts to shut down Atlas’s shields, but NOPE!!!! Turns out the river of Grimm that was heading towards the kingdom was actually meant to be used as a Geyser to shoot upwards to the base of Atlas. Gotta say Salem sure is creative when it comes to f*****g everything up huh 🤨. Well at least she had the decency to park the Grimm Whale, that thing was causing major air traffic violations!!! 😤

-(Cinder’s return and Salem’s “punishment?”) Ok in this entire segment of the episode only two things had me majorly curious. First off.....Mercury’s new assignment from Salem. What could Salem possibly want Mercury to do for her? The only clue that I got out that conversation was how much gloating Mercury was doing because of his new assignment. To me it didn’t feel like he wasn’t just being prideful that he got a mission from Salem herself, he wanted to rub it in to Cinder personally. So what could this assignment be to make him act like this towards Cinder.....unless it was something personal to her. Cinder has just been tasked to retrieve the Winter maiden’s power by Salem herself, so the only thing she wants to do personally herself left is........kill Ruby. Now we all know Salem doesn’t want Ruby dead so the only option left is to kidnap her instead, and I think Mercury does qualify to handle it.......only if the opportunity presents itself to do so. And what do you know a Giant Whale Grimm just vomited a hundred different Grimm onto Atlas, and someone just so happens to be on Atlas that possess the power to destroy this many Grimm instantly. 🤔 but I’m probably reading too much into it.....

Oh right! The second thing.......did anyone else find it suspicious that Salem didn’t punish Cinder for going against her commands but instead go ahead and gave Cinder the “OK” to hunt down Penny?? I get that it’s another manipulation tactic from Salem to control Cinder, but I don’t know.....there’s something more behind it I think....

Overall it was still a good episode and I cannot wait to see the next one!!!! Till next time......BUH-BYE!!! XD

#rwby #rwby volume 8 #rwby volume 8 spoilers #rwby ruby #weiss schnee #blake bellodona #yang xiao long #oscar pine #rwby salem #cinder fall #mercury black #winter schnee

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

Text

Close Call

Okay, so this is going to be heavier than the stuff I usually write. If that’s not your cup of tea, don’t worry! I have something much more fun and visceral in the works and I plan on dropping it next Wednesday (nine days from now).

---

It was the early morning hours when Shawn returned home from a night of drinking like any other. He and Grant and Lacie had played cards, pool, and darts (the latter they'd played in such a state of intoxication that it was lucky they hadn't hurt anyone). Shawn was glad that Grant had showed up this time. They'd been dating for several months now and probably still were. It was hard to tell. Grant hadn't had the time or "hadn't been up" to going out anywhere in a month, and it had Shawn wondering if he'd just tapped out of the relationship. He had seemed worse for wear lately and of course things at Joey Drew Studios hadn't gotten easier on anyone, so maybe he wasn't lying. At very least, this night had been great, just like things had been before (well, before Grant left a bit early in tears. Sometimes booze just did that to him and he needed to sleep it off), so maybe everything was about to go back to normal. On that comforting note, Shawn dragged himself to bed.

Shawn was awoken by the ringing of his phone. The voice on the other side struck him with fear- it was Grant, and he sounded terrified.

"Shawn, get over here right now. I did something stupid. Please, come here. Help me."

"I'll be right there," Shawn promised.

The door to Grant's house was unlocked. The house was deafeningly silent.

"Grant?" Shawn called. Nothing. Shawn checked around the house. Once he came upon the bathroom, which reeked of alcohol and vomit, he knew he'd found the place. Clicking the lights on, he found his boyfriend passed out face-down on the floor, surrounded by empty or half-empty bottles of pills.

The next twenty minutes were an absolute blur, not helped by the substantial amount of alcohol still in Shawn's system. Shawn remembered calling an ambulance and waiting for it to arrive with his boyfriend unconscious in his arms. He remembered picking up two sheets of paper, which he'd vaguely identified as a suicide note, from the floor. He remembered crying, and panicking, and confusion. Soon enough, though, Shawn was being reassured by a paramedic that given how recently he'd consumed the pills, Grant would almost definitely make it.

The next day, Shawn took out the letter. It had clearly been written ahead of time, unless one of Grant's hidden talents was managing such neat handwriting while heavily drunk. Shawn wondered if that meant that Grant had planned to do this. Slowly, he forced himself to consume its contents, line by line.

If you are reading this letter, I am dead of suicide. I promised myself that I'd never do this. It's been a temptation at the back of my mind for long enough, however, that I thought I should get out what I would want to have out, just in case. I feel like if it ever does happen, it will be in a moment where I'm barely in control of myself.

The first thing I'm going to do is to write out why I promised myself I wouldn't. There are three reasons why. The first is because my mother is the kindest, most loving person in the world, and I know she'd be devastated if I killed myself. There's a good chance she'd end up dead of suicide as well in that situation, and I would never want to cause that. The second reason is for the light of my life, Emily. She has so much promise in her. She has my eyes, the curiousity I had when I was younger, and thankfully just a touch of my sensitivity. She loves me, and I'm trying to be the force for good in her life that my mother was in mine. I would never give her the pain of losing a parent, and I want to see her grow up. The third reason is that I have friends that make me happy, and days when I genuinely want to be alive. Sometimes it feels like life is drudgery, but that's when I most need to remember that it isn't always like that.

Unfortunately, because this will be written ahead of time, I won't be able to say what specifically caused me to go through with this. What I will say, though, is that my life feels like it's falling apart, even when it isn't. My worries about losing my job aren't completely unfounded, given that working at Joey Drew Studios is most often like bailing water out of a sinking ship. I don't know how realistic it is to believe that my career in this industry will be over after that, since I'll have two failed businesses on my record and nothing else. It's hard to tell when I'm being realistic and when I'm letting pessimism get the better of me. I worry constantly about losing the people in my life that make it tolerable, and I don't know if that's realistic either- whether they're getting sick of me or not. Sometimes, it feels like like life is a pointless struggle against the inevitable. I have better days and worse days of course, but, well, if I didn't feel like this a substantial amount of the time, I wouldn't be writing this letter.

Whoever it is that's reading this, you could not have prevented this, it is in no way your fault, and I'm sorry for putting you through it.

—-

There was a banging on Lacie's door. "Lacie! Lacie, open up!"

Lacie, groggy and still in her pyjamas, opened up. "What?"

"I need your advice. Badly."

Lacie could see how distressed he was. "Come on in."

A few minutes later, They were sitting across from each other in Lacie's living room, Shawn had explained what had happened the night before, and Lacie had read the note. It might have been a violation of privacy to show it to Lacie, but he needed her advice.

"Wow, that is serious. Is he okay?"

"Yeah, that's the way they made it sound. I'm going to see him as soon as there's visitin' hours. Just... what do I say to him after this?"

"I don't know."

"Well, if it were Abby what would you do?"

"Abby wouldn't put me in this situation." Lacie saw Shawn getting indignant. "Calm down, I'm not saying 'because she's so strong and he's so weak.' But we've been together for two years, we live together, and we're at the stage where we owe it to each other to look after ourselves and be honest if we're going through issues like this. So, yeah, she'd never catch me off guard like this. Clearly, you two aren't at that point, or at least he doesn't think you are. So, here's my advice: make sure he's getting professional help, and then ask yourself if this is the person you want a partnership with. Also, to temper your expectations: whatever his problem is, you can't solve it, it won't go away immediately, and it's ultimately his responsibility to fix it. If he won't be honest with you about stuff like this, you're under no obligation to help him with it. Honestly, if you do stick with him, chances are that nothing in your relationship will change and in a couple weeks this'll just be an awful memory."

"Well, that's a bunch of heartless nonsense. But you're probably right." Shawn honestly didn't know how to feel about any of it, but he felt like he had to say something. He didn't find it terribly useful since his problem wasn't that he didn't know whether to stay with Grant, it was that he didn't want him to die or to want to be dead.

Lacie shrugged. "I mean, I'm just an untrusting old sea hag. If all you want is dating, or if you honestly think a partnership with him is possible and a good idea, knock yourself out, I guess."

"Okay." Shawn got up to leave.

"Hey. Best of luck, Shawn. I'm always here for you. No matter what you choose to do, here."

—-

Grant was still asleep when Shawn was allowed in to see him, but there weren't any obvious signs of physical damage on him. Shawn gently shook him awake. "Hey... ah just wanted to check in and make sure everything was okay with you. Ya gave me quite a scare last night."

Grant turned to look at him. His movements suggested that he was feeling pretty weak from whatever he'd taken last night. "Oh. Hey, Shawn. According to the nurses, I'm fine. I have to stay a few more hours to get tested for organ damage, but that's it. What... happened last night? I remember I was with you for a while. How did I end up here?"

Oh, Shawn did not like this situation. He didn't like it at all. "How much do you remember?"

"I was drinking with you and Lacie for a while. And... I had a dream last night where I killed myself. But it had to have been a dream, see? I woke up for a minute and I felt you holding me. You must have come home with me after we went to the bar, right?"

"Oh, well, yes. That's what happened. But you... you got alcohol poisoning."

Relief rushed over Grant's face. "Thank God. That's all it was?"

"Yeah. You were trying to keep up with me shot for shot." Shawn gave Grant a little jab with his elbow in a sad attempt to act casual. "Ya really shouldn't do that. I'm a professional, after all."

Grant forced a smile. "Got it."

"Umm... listen, Grant? I love you, and I care about you, and you said some pretty concernin' things last night. Is there anything you need to talk about?"

"No, I'm okay. Sorry for worrying you."

"No. It's fine. Ya want company?"

"Honestly, I'm feeling pretty sick. Can we catch up another time?"

"Okay. See you then."

"Okay. I love you, Shawn."

Shawn got up and left. In the hallway, he dug the note out of his pocket and looked at it one last time, trying to wrack up the courage to go back and admit everything. Instead he crumpled it up and threw it away. Nothing had happened last night. Soon, Grant would go home, find the empty pill bottles on his bathroom floor, connect the dots, and knowing him, probably keep that revelation to himself. And that was okay, right? As Lacie said, it was his responsibility to take it as a wake-up call and deal with whatever it was that had made him do it. Lacie would think this was okay, right? Shawn hoped so. It felt so wrong.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #shawn flynn #grant cohen #lacie benton #my fanfiction #tw suicide #just to be totally clear: I don't completely agree or disagree with Lacie. It's just what I thought she would think.#Also this isn't anti-grant x shawn at all- I like that ship #grant x shawn

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asterekmess · 4 years

Note

1-11 Scott/Posey Stans always try to deflect criticism of the way Scott McCall is written in Teen Wolf by claiming that ANY attempt by a fan, a viewer, or a critic of holding Scott to a level of behavior that one would expect of a character who is a main and the self-proclaimed hero of the show is “racism”. Except that their accusations don’t make any sense whatsoever, because Scott’s canonical shitty actions and behavior don’t stem from his race (or canonical lack of thereof.)

Okay hun, this is a doozy, so I’m putting it under a Read More.

2-11 Scott McCall is mean. He’s mean to Stiles, he’s mean to Allison, he’s mean to Derek, he’s mean to Peter, he’s mean to Cora, he’s mean to Lydia, he’s mean to Jackson, he’s mean to Erica, he’s mean to Isaac, he’s mean to Malia, he’s mean to Malia, he’s mean to Kira, he’s mean to Liam, he’s mean to Chris, and he’s even mean to Theo (“You are barely even human!”) Scott McCall is deliberately rude to the Hales, Boyd, Ethan, Danny, Hayden, Jiang, Tierney, and Melissa.

3-11 Scott McCall deliberately USES, INSULTS, HUMILIATES and DEHUMANIZES people in ways that demonstrate that he is fully aware of what he’s doing. Scott McCall deliberately disregards other people’s needs in order to fulfill his own. Tyler Posey being half Mexican doesn’t change the fact that his fictional character Scott McCall is a whiny coward and an abusive piece of trash,

4-11 and that his so called ‘defense squad’ enjoys the power fantasy that Scott can be cruel, can lie, can assault, can lash out, can violate other people’s boundaries, bodily autonomy and consent, can commit premeditated murder, can break the law without impunity, can dehumanize, can gaslight and victim blame his friends to his heart’s content and no one should ever hold it against him

5-11 In both the production and in some Scott supremacist fanfics, there’s often the premise that people are evil and in the wrong if they call Scott out on his bullshit or hold his toxic behavior against him. Take Season 1. As much as the Scott McCall defense squad brigade love framing Stiles and Derek getting shit done and prioritizing people’s life over Scott’s jealous fits and temper tantrums as the height of depravity

6-11 Scott/Posey Stans consciously and steadfastly ignore all the cruel things that Scott says and does throughout the seasons, such as “How much Adderall have you had today?” OR “What are you trying to do?! I just made first line! I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me and everything in my life is perfect! Why are you trying to ruin it?!” OR “The hunters had a reason to slaughter your entire family and pack”

7-11 (As an aside, it’s amazing to me how Fanon rewrites Scott as this brilliant thinker and strategist and mastermind who is so much smarter and better than everyone else in every way even though Canon Scott spends the entirety of Teen Wolf doing absolutely nothing except get his ass handed to him by everyone, whining about wanting to be popular/get his dick wet/play lacrosse, screaming at his friends and girlfriends, being utterly useless when left to his own devices,

8-11 and planning to bite Stiles against his will because he doesn’t know what to do. But I digress.) Or take Season 5. In the rain argument in Lies of Omission (5x09), Scott McCall’s hypocritical, dehumanizing speech to Stiles is one of the meanest, cruelest, most disgusting manipulations I have ever seen a television character deliver to another television character they supposedly cared about. It’s victim blaming and gaslighting at its vilest.

9-11 And, of course, the Scott McCall defense squad focuses exclusively on the idea that Stiles didn’t behave “the right way” in that scene (AKA taking Scott’s bullshit without clapping back like Scott wanted and demanded), and cannot entertain for one moment the idea that Scott provoked that response by dehumanizing Stiles and by accusing Stiles of being a violent, dangerous, inhuman monster and serial killer based on Theo’s words alone.

10-11 After all, it’s part of their power fantasy. Scott being “abandoned” and “mistreated” by his “ungrateful” friends serves another type of fantasy: the poor oppressed martyr. It doesn’t matter why Scott is abandoned or who is leaving Scott, it’s all about Scott McCall’s right to own people and demand his friends’ love, friendship, loyalty, sympathy, forgiveness, obedience and devotion without having to account for his own abusive behavior.

11-11 And that’s Scott Stans’ point: Only Scott McCall Is Important and Damn Derek/Stiles/Liam/Other Teen Wolf character for having a life and motivations that don’t revolve around Scott! To them (and to Canon Scott), the pack exists not to serve all its members, but to serve and validate Scott McWhinyCall. Because, after all, that’s what antis want for themselves – validation in the face of shortcomings and bad behavior.

Wow, that was a lot of anger. Do you feel any better after venting that? I really hope so, it honestly looks p cathartic. Okay, I apologize in advance if I don’t come across as quite so passionate, I’m kinda bleh today and I already used up all my righteous fury in an earlier post, so I’ll do my best.

I honestly understand the worry about people disliking Scott as having racist motivations. As I said in another post, there aren’t a lot of Latino (wait, I read somewhere to use latine? Should I use that instead? I’ll use that, someone correct me if I’m wrong. The thing also said latinx was not great bc of pronunciation issues? I’m not educated enough on this. Halp, please.) Latine protagonist characters in popular television, especially for teen dramas like Teen Wolf. Intentional or not, written into the show or not, Scott is half-latine. His mother is a latine woman. We don’t see them speak spanish or take part in any specific cultural traditions, but that doesn’t make him white. Yes, his character was written for a white guy, but Tyler Posey is the one who got the part and we can’t strip him of his heritage just because the show originally meant for Scott to be white. My husband is almost always mistaken for white, even though he’s also half-latine, but that doesn’t make him any less latine. There’s little enough representation as it is, and if we start being picky about whether characters were ‘intended’ or ‘written’ as POC, everything will just fall to shit. Plus, as a white person, I have literally no rights to decide that Scott’s white. I’m cool with that. Would prefer to just stay in my lane, if I’m honest. With Scott established as being a POC, it’s totally reasonable for other POC and fans of Scott to be worried that those of us who don’t like him have that opinion because of either passive or active racism. There are a lot of occasions where Protags of Color were either liked less, or actively disliked for just being ‘not white.’ It also doesn’t help that Scott is one of very few “good” Characters of Color in TW (whether we agree or not, he is presented as a ‘good guy’). We have Boyd, who dies in 3A and doesn’t get much character developement in the meantime, and Kira, who sticks around for a while, then has to leave because of ‘losing control’ which is apparently a very common stereotype for POC, especially within Fantasy or Supernatural settings. Other than them, the other POC are either bad guys or just morally dubious. I’m not sure where Deaton falls on the scale either. I understand it being frustrating to some people for us to take one of the few “good’ characters and see him/describe him as a villain. It’s important for white people, and honestly, anyone not latine (because even POC can be racist against people who aren’t their race) to be self-aware and analyze the various reasons why we dislike Scott and make sure that we aren’t accidentally being passively racist. Just because we’re sure we aren’t, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t double check. And if we find we are, then it’s up to us to correct that mindset and educate ourselves. There is no shame in learning that you have not great habits or mindsets and working to fix them. That’s how growth works. It’s equally important that when we’re writing fic, we watch how we portray him and the other POC in the show. I’m not saying we can’t write Scott bashing fic. Fuck knows that I’ve written plenty of Bad Friend Scott McCall fic, and I don’t intend to stop. But we still need to be self-critical and make sure that we’re not writing Scott (or the others, please assume from here on out I’m saying Scott and the others) into racist stereotypes. We shouldn’t reduce him to just a “Yes” man, or make him constantly submissive, or constantly vicious and angry and mean for no reason. It’s one thing to write him as doing something bad or cruel and making it realistic for the story. It’s quite another to have him just randomly pop in to say “fuck you” and hit someone (I’m not referencing something specific here, I’m just saying dumb stuff). Honestly, I don’t know enough about this and I’m not really entitled to go into too much more detail. Instead, I’d recommend that even if you don’t think you’re hating Scott for racist reasons, still read This Post about racism in fandom/fanfic. When I read it, it was both reassuring and intimidating. I have anxiety, so I’m usually worried about doing things for ‘the wrong reason’ even when that’s not actually my reason for doing the thing. Reading this gave me a clearer view of my own thoughts, and it honestly made me feel a little more comfortable with my own mentality because it gave me a structure to think about and consider when I’m worried that I’m doing something racist. It’s worth the read. I’d also like to reiterate the suggestion on that post, to check out the blog Writing with Color, which is a great resource for writing Characters of Color. It doesn’t have as many resources for fanfiction writing and the grey area involved in writing characters that your reader already knows, but their ask box is closed at the moment, so maybe when it opens again someone’ll send in an ask about it (If I actually remember to, I’ll do it myself, but that’s unlikely, so if one of you feels so inspired, please do so and help a fic writer out!)

Now. I cannot speak for every single fan of TW who is anti-Scott in some way. Obviously not. But, I can speak for myself and for the experiences I’ve had within the fandom. My issues with Scott are many and complex and a lot of it is intrinsically connected to issues with the writing of the show in general and with the creators and the calls they made. In all the conversations that I’ve had with other fans, I’ve never seen anyone list Scott’s race as a problem. I’ve never seen anyone talk about how they wished he were more submissive or more obedient. Maybe that he would listen to actual adults once in a while, but not that he be unreasonably obedient of white characters. I’m not all-knowing on the subject of racist stereotypes, but nearly every complaint I’ve seen was based on details from the show and specific moments and dialogue, not just a general disgust with his existence. Furthermore, for all the anger I see directed at those of us that prefer Stiles, Derek, or even Peter, I’ve also never talked to anyone who liked those characters who wasn’t willing to admit that there were plenty of points in canon where they fucked up or did something wrong. Again, I don’t know everyone in fandom, so maybe there are people who won’t admit those things, but they aren’t in the majority.

I personally hate the way I see Scott treat people in the show. I hate the really vicious things he says and does and the chronic lack of self-awareness or growth. Even worse, the way the show excuses his behavior, be it intentional or not, has soured a lot of other parts of the show. The clearly impulsive moments that could easily be excused by him being a really stressed out teenager make me a lot more frustrated than they would, had I not known that he would never get better. That he would never stop saying things like that. I can’t even make myself enjoy the genuinely sweet moments with him and Allison or him and his mom, etc. I might hate that he left Stiles’ messages unanswered and skipped an entire day of school during a crisis to hang out with Allison, but I would’ve liked to enjoy their banter, the soft moments between them that are actually really nice. I can’t though, because so many other things about his character have ruined that for me.

It isn’t okay to attack people for disliking a character and throw around such charged words like “racist” and “abuse-apologist” or anything else. First off, this is fiction, and we all need to keep that in mind. These are not real people we’re talking about. Secondly, calling someone racist because they disagree with you (unless they are actively saying/doing something actually racist) isn’t okay and it isn’t an adult way to deal with things. Someone not liking a character doesn’t automatically make them racist. Someone happening to prefer a white character over a Character of Color doesn’t automatically make them racist. Sure, they might have passively racist motivations that even they don’t realize. But it is not up to strangers to come yell and call names without proof. There are plenty of reasons that have nothing to do with race (Not saying “i don’t see race.” I’m saying “Not About Race”) that I like Stiles over Scott, ranging from the fact that he’s physically more my type, to sharing a neurological condition with him, to just preferring Dylan O’Brien as an actor because he makes me fucking cry every time he cries on screen. What’s important is that we self analyze and check ourselves and our opinions to make sure that we aren’t falling into the racist habit of disliking Characters of Color for no real reason. But that isn’t something that other people can do for us, and it’s not their place to tell us what we think. Calling a stranger racist for saying they hate Scott’s behavior in the show doesn’t do anything for racial equality. It just makes people stop listening to the word ‘racist.’

There are times I seriously get frustrated with TW to the point of considering not watching anymore. Of closing my blog and stopping reading fanfic entirely because every single time I read a fic where Scott’s a ‘good guy’ or a ‘good alpha’ or where Derek is glad to be a beta again because he likes following Alpha Scott, I get squicked so badly I have to click out and just sit there for a second to settle. I can’t disentangle the things he does/says in the show from the fic.And I’ve written Good Friend Scott McCall fics. I have multiple wips where he’s either a decent person or he grows from being a dick to being a decent person. With my own work, I know that there’s an awareness to his behavior in the show and an active intent to rewrite/fix his behavior so that he is a nice person. With other people’s works, I don’t have a guarantee (unless it’s mentioned in tags or author’s notes, and I don’t expect people to have to explain themselves that way), and it personally makes me uncomfortable to read something when I don’t know if the writer actually sees Scott that way. It’s a personal preference, and one that I stick to pretty strictly.

Scott brings me no joy, and with him as the main character, I’ve come perilously close to cutting myself off from the most welcoming, loving fandom I’ve ever been a part of (except the Merlin fandom, but I don’t blame anyone who can’t compete with them. They’re fucking magical.). But I’m still here. I still love, if not the reality of the show, then all the potential I see in it when I watch. I love watching Derek and Stiles interact with each other and with the other side characters. I love seeing the glimpses of Boyd that we get, the tiny scenes of Erica, the snarky moments with Isaac. I even like Kira, though I haven’t seen a whole lot of the show where she’s in it/genuinely can’t remember it (I can’t even remember how far I’ve seen total, but I don’t think it was past S4, and I haven’t seen past S2 in months and months) and she spends most of her scenes with Scott, which just....kind of ruins the scenes for me.

That’s the glory of fandom though, of media in general. I don’t have to like Scott. I can love Derek and Stiles instead and I can choose not to read fics where Scott is a major player or an Alpha at all. I can read fics where Kira’s part of the pack without Scott ever getting involved, and see her interact with everyone else. Or fics where Boyd never dies and watch him bake or read or play lacrosse with the pack. I can curate my own experience, whether that means blocking tags or users or filtering fics, or just straight up skipping certain scenes/episodes of the show itself. I cope with my frustrations by coming on this blog and ranting about it. Yeah, this is a public space, but it’s also a space people choose to view. If they don’t like my opinions, they can block me or unfollow me or all of the above. They don’t have to read it, just like I don’t have to read any of their pro-scott stuff. I also read fic that does explore how Scott’s behavior is problematic and cruel sometimes. Fic that either erases him or turns him into the villain, I find fun and interesting and the relationship between him and Stiles cracking into pieces is something I find extremely cathartic, so I read it pretty much every chance I get (though, i’m so picky about fics I read, you’ve no idea). I also write fic. I write the most mushy, self-indulgent sterek fic and Stiles-centric fic and and Scott bashing fic that I can possibly write. It’s a joy and a therapy all its own. Fuck, I’m rewriting the entirety of canon for fuck’s sake and I’ve made so many changes that at this point I honestly have issues remembering what happens in the show, bc I rewrote the damn thing.

At the same time, Scott fans are gonna write their power fantasies. They’re gonna write anti-Stiles stuff and anti-Derek stuff, and whatever else tickles their fancy. They’re gonna make their own rant posts and gifsets. And to be quite honest, I don’t give a single flying fuck. I already have those tags filtered out on Ao3. I don’t follow any pro-scott tumblrs. That shit doesn’t show up for me most of the time, unless it’s not tagged properly, and even then I just click out, take a second, and move on.

No one is required to like or dislike specific characters, and it’s unfair of anyone to tell us otherwise. Fandom is built on choice. The choice to disagree with canon, or to re-envision it altogether, or to love it entirely. No one can take that away from you. So long as you aren’t hurting anybody, just keep doing you, friend. I’m here for you to vent to when it gets to be too much.

#personal #go for it #anti-scott mccall #meta ramblings #Anonymous #rant #much love #I didn't mean to sound so preachy #oops

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fleetofshippyships · 4 years

Text

Putting to Rights

Pairing: Jin Ling/Lan Jingyi (focus), Jin Ling/Lan Jingyi/Lan Sizhui/Ouyang Zizhen (background) Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.1k Summary: Lan Jingyi manages to convince Jin Ling to give him another chance at drawing his vermilion mark after messing it up the first time, now he just has to make sure he doesn't ruin his second chance too.

(Poly Junior Quartet, but with this fic focusing on Jin Ling/Lan Jingyi specifically)

Tags: Polyamory, Poly Junior Quartet (Lingyi focus), Lanling Jin Vermilion Mark, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Apologies, Romantic Gestures, Communication, Forehead Touches, Forehead Kisses

Part 2 of ‘Of Forehead Ribbons and Vermilion Marks’

AO3 Link

Putting to Rights

Lan Jingyi bit his lip the entire time he repainted Jin Ling’s vermilion mark. The silence in Jin Ling’s guest quarters was heavy and tense, like Jin Ling might explode at him again at any moment even though he had finally agreed to follow Lan Jingyi back inside and let him paint the mark again. He was staring down at the floor, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists as well.

Lan Jingyi really had messed everything up. He’d kick himself, but he already ached enough from the couple of blows Jin Ling had managed to land with Suihua, even though he’d clearly held back his strength with them. That was alright though, he deserved it. Sizhui would probably give him a disappointed look when he found out what he’d done. He deserved that too.

Stupid. He couldn’t even claim it was an accident. He’d just been afraid. Scared of painting a mark on Jin Ling’s forehead so he’d done it wrong to try and...he didn’t even know what he’d been trying to do, really. So stupid. And then to imply he didn’t want Jin Ling to touch his forehead ribbon, he hadn’t been blind to how much that had hurt Jin Ling, to the point where he hadn’t even been able to think of an angry response.

So stupid.

“There, done,” he said, putting down the brush and bracing himself.

Jin Ling met his eyes and then snatched up a small mirror. Lan Jingyi fisted his robes waiting for him to react. If he didn’t fix this, Sizhui would give him that disappointed look. He hated that look. And Jin Ling probably wouldn’t speak to him for a while. His petty silence was always amusing at first but Lan Jingyi had learned to hate that too when it dragged on. He’d rather Jin Ling yelled at him than ignored him.

After a few moments, Jin Ling put the mirror down. He stared at Lan Jingyi for a few moments, then reached for his face.

Lan Jingyi’s breath froze in his chest when he realised Jin Ling was reaching for his forehead ribbon. Heat flooded his face, and he had to fight the instinctive urge to pull away even though he wanted it.

Sizhui made it look so easy, letting the others touch his forehead ribbon, but Lan Jingyi had always struggled. It was the one rule he found easy to follow. He could count on one hand the times he’d let Zizhen touch it, and each time only a touch, he had not yet let him remove it.

It had even taken him a long time to get comfortable with Sizhui touching it, and they’d had years together before the others.

Jin Ling’s face flushed as red as Lan Jingyi’s felt when he slid his fingers around the ribbon until he found the knot fastening it in place.

The feel of his fingers in Lan Jingyi’s hair might have been pleasant, if he wasn’t paralyzed and struggling to breathe. He held himself perfectly still, his heart racing and a rushing sound in his ears, as Jin Ling unfastened his forehead ribbon and pulled it off. He held it carefully in his hands for a moment, looking down at it rather than at Lan Jingyi.

Lan Jingyi sucked in an unsteady breath and reached down to twist one end of the ribbon around his fingers. It brought some comfort, but he still felt as if he could barely breathe seeing it in Jin Ling’s hands.

He couldn’t quite figure out if it was easier or harder to see, knowing that Jin Ling understood the significance of it. Sizhui was so free with it, but Lan Jingyi felt as if Jin Ling had his fingers curled around his heart instead, could almost feel his hand there and his heart beating rapidly against it.

“Jin Ling,” he whispered, not sure what to say, wishing Sizhui was there to make it easier, or Zizhen to fill the silence so he wouldn’t say something stupid and ruin everything again.

“You’re such an idiot,” Jin Ling muttered, twisting the other end of the ribbon around his fingers. “You know what the vermilion mark means. I know Sizhui told you about it. He tells you everything. Why would you do that?”

Lan Jingyi’s face burned, but he nodded. The only way to bring Jin Ling down from his tantrums was to be completely honest with him, even if it was embarrassing.

“I got scared,” he whispered.

“Idiot,” Jin Ling muttered again, before lifting his hands to cradle Lan Jingyi’s face and tilt it up to look at him. “You think it was any easier for me to ask?”

Lan Jingyi closed his eyes and grimaced. Mere months ago, Jin Ling never would have admitted that so easily. His growing ease with these things spoke of the trust he had given Lan Jingyi. The trust Lan Jingyi had violated out of a ridiculous fear he couldn't even name.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Jin Ling sighed loudly, then, after a few moments, Lan Jingyi felt the soft caress of his lips against his forehead. He opened his eyes to see Jin Ling even more red-faced than before, averting his eyes to look down at the floor again.

“What was that?” Lan Jingyi asked, his heart beating so fast he thought it might give out. Even Sizhui had never kissed his naked forehead before.

“Sizhui likes it when I do that,” Jin Ling mumbled, letting go of Lan Jingyi’s face and weaving the ribbon tighter around his fingers.

“Oh,” Lan Jingyi whispered. He’d have to remember to do that with Sizhui. It was just like him to enjoy something and never ask anyone to do it. Sometimes he was a little too selfless with them, always doing what they preferred and asking for nothing more than their company in return.

The vermilion mark on Jin Ling’s forehead seemed to stand out all the more as he considered whether Jin Ling’s actions might be hiding some desire for the same gesture. Jin Ling was just as bad at not asking for what he wanted, even if for completely different reasons.

Which made it so, so much worse that he’d not taken the invitation to paint his vermilion mark seriously.

“It’s nice,” he said, before leaning forward and brushing a quick kiss to the mark he had painted.

Jin Ling jerked back a little, eyes wide and face crimson. Lan Jingyi tugged him back by the ribbon, catching his hand at the same time and pressing their foreheads together.

When he looked down at their hands, the sight of his forehead ribbon twisting around their fingers made his chest ache and his breathing stutter. He still didn’t know how to express that it meant more to him than it did to Sizhui. That in allowing Jin Ling to touch it he wasn’t just expressing his feelings selflessly like Sizhui did. He wanted.

“Jin Ling...”

“Shut up,” Jin Ling muttered, curling his free hand around the back of Lan Jingyi’s neck and then pressing their lips together.

From the back of the room came a high pitched squeal and then a loud thud. Jin Ling tore away from Lan Jingyi and turned to the windows at the back of the room.

“Ouyang Zizhen, you are dead!” he yelled, getting to his feet only to stumble and fall back down.

They were still joined by the ribbon twisted around their hands.

There was a burst of laughter and then the sound of shushing, and Jin Ling dragged Lan Jingyi to his feet with him, clutching tightly to the hand he was bound to.

“Lan Sizhui!” Jin Ling shouted, dragging Lan Jingyi towards the windows. “I can hear you too!”

There was another loud thump, and then the sound of footsteps running away, accompanied by Zizhen’s loud laughter.

“You better run while you still can!” Jin Ling shouted as they reached the window, leaning out to see Zizhen and Sizhui’s retreating figures. “I’ll break your legs when I catch you!”

Lan Jingyi would have snorted and the same old threat Jin Ling always made and would never actually follow through on, the spitting image of his terrifying uncle, but was too captivated by their hands. With the way they’d both wrapped the ribbon around their fingers, it almost looked like their hands were bound by the ribbon, rather than that they were just holding hands.

The sight filled him with an indescribable feeling. Now that he had finally done it, had finally let Jin Ling touch his forehead ribbon, it was like some last barrier between them had been chipped away. His chest felt too tight and too full, and he knew his face was still red from the way his skin felt aflame.

Jin Ling still leaned out the window, glaring in the direction the others had run off in, but Lan Jingyi grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him enough to kiss him again.

“Jingyi?” Jin Ling gasped, the moment they parted.

“What?” he asked, kissing Jin Ling’s vermilion mark again and loving the sound of Jin Ling’s breathing as it faltered.

Jin Ling stared at him, mouth moving but not saying anything. He looked out the window, then back to Lan Jingyi’s lips, then back to the window.

His struggle was obvious, and ordinarily, Lan Jingyi would have loved to tease him for it, his ridiculous pride and empty threats. Jin Ling would not hesitate to chase the others through the Cloud Recesses if he was annoyed with them, or had been embarrassed and laughed at by them. Propriety and politics were never on his mind at such times, even if he grumbled and glowered through the consequences later.

But Jin Ling was equally unable to stop himself from indulging when kisses were offered.

With a loud huff of displeasure, Jin Ling turned from the window and grabbed the front of Lan Jingyi’s robes with his free hand.

“Help me catch them and punish them later.”

The demand was clear in his voice, and the expectation of being obeyed, but with the ribbon around their hands, Lan Jingyi found himself unable to take offence at the order. Instead, he only found himself nodding and leaning in close.

Their foreheads met, and the feel of skin uninterrupted by his forehead ribbon made Lan Jingyi break out in shivers. Even though he had gone through this with Sizhui and Zizhen, the impact of this moment was enough to make him want to run away or pull Jin Ling closer. The heat wouldn’t leave his face, his heart would not slow, his breathing would not steady.

Jin Ling closed his eyes and leaned back just enough to raise their joined hands and kiss the ribbon twisting around his fingers.

A weak sound emerged from Jingyi’s throat and Jin Ling opened his eyes to look. His expression was open, but vulnerable again, like he thought Lan Jingyi might not like the gesture.

It took several moments for Jingyi to remember how to speak.

“Sizhui again?” he asked, recalling the feel of Jin Ling’s lips against his naked forehead and where he had learned that gesture.

Jin Ling inhaled slowly, then shook his head.

“Just...just me?” Lan Jingyi asked.

He let Jin Ling’s hand go at last, but raised it to cup the side of his face. Jin Ling closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, then turned his head and kissed the ribbon twisting around Lan Jingyi’s palm as he brought his own ribbon-wrapped hand to cover it.

“He doesn’t kiss your mark, does he?” Lan Jingyi asked, remembering his reaction to it and leaning forward to kiss it again.

“He never did it wrong and needed to apologise,” Jin Ling grumbled.

Lan Jingyi’s stomach clenched uncomfortably, but if Jin Ling was still angry, he would never have gotten this far. Jin Ling was more than capable of carrying a grudge for days, weeks. Lan Jingyi had never pushed him far enough for a month-long grudge, but he didn’t think Jin Ling was incapable of it.

“I’m sorry,” Jingyi murmured between kisses to the mark, before tilting Jin Ling’s head up to kiss his lips again.

Jin Ling made a soft sound into the kiss, leaning into it for a moment before pulling back.

“Help me get them later?”

Lan Jingyi nodded and kissed him again. He knew all of Sizhui’s hiding spots, all the places he liked to take them where no one would see what they got up to. Finding them would be the easy part. He’d leave the rest to Jin Ling and just enjoy the spectacle.

“Later,” he promised between kisses.

#lingyi #poly junior quartet #zhuilingyizhen #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #jin ling #lan jingyi #lan sizhui #ouyang zizhen #mxtx #juniors #jl #ljy #lsz #oyzz #my fanfic #of forehead ribbons and vermilion marks #*

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baidar-oroq · 4 years

Text

08-Clamor

Twelve years ago, the Sea of Blades, the Azim Steppe.

The outriders of the Oroq tribe, by now, consider their search to be perfunctory, fueled as much by tradition as it was their admiration for Jagadai, who insisted that they continue to search for his brother. They all know that the best case scenario for young Baidar is being captured and enslaved by the Oronir, for his trail had led towards the Mettle, and in the dying days of the old year as the Tsagaan Sar approached, the Oronir would surround the Mettle in force, claiming any foolish enough to approach. The likelier case, though, is that the boy is dead, killed either by predators or by the trials of the Mettle itself. But yet they push on, led by Jagadai, who is not willing to give up on his brother yet.

Even if he privately wonders what drove Baidar to attempt the Mettle at his age.

No Oroq has ever succeeded at the trials of the Mettle younger than eighteen summers; Jagadai had been twenty-three summers himself when he’d attempted it, and misfortune had ended his attempt before he tamed the cloudkin, a boulder that had smashed into the path just before he had reached the end, shattering his elbow. He had recovered from the injury to continue to serve as a warrior of the tribe, though he suspected that in later years his elbow would ache on cold and rainy days, but as the heir apparent to his father, he would have to display caution on the next time he attempted the Mettle. His failure was seen to some as an achievement, though, since many did not survive their failure. The gods would favor him the next time, some in the tribe said.

Baidar was only sixteen summers old. Sixteen years old, and he had taken his spear and had snuck from the camp one night a week ago, what tracks he’d left headed for the Mettle. Sixteen years old, and probably dead, but Jagadai was not giving up.

His parents seemingly had; his father, Bujir, had seemed more offended by Baidar’s breaking with tradition than worried that his younger son had vanished alone on the Steppe. Ibakha, his mother, had shown more concern, but that, as they say in Reunion, was a low bar to clear. Neither of his parents seem to understand Baidar, to understand his talents with a spear, his ability to hunt and track, how good he was at these things. Already Baidar was Jagadai’s superior in arms, rarely losing a sparring contest, and the boy had been hunting since he was fourteen. The tale of how Baidar had slain a purbol at the age of eleven-to be accurate, he dealt the final blow after a hunting party had done much of the work, but nevertheless-is a quiet legend in the tribe. Jagadai marvels that Baidar, who’d followed him on the hunt and had leaped into action when the purbol threatened him, had even managed that.

Bujir, of course, merely focused on how disobedient his son was.

Be honest with yourself, Jagadai, especially if your brother is dead; he did it because he wants their approval for once. He thinks it will take the Mettle to attain that.

Jagadai is so lost in thought over his brother that he doesn’t at first hear one of the outriders shout, but the man pointing in the distance catches his attention. Jagadai follows the man’s gesture and sees a single yol, flying low across the ground, and on instinct he pulls a spear from the saddle of his stallion. It is not typical for a single yolrider to attack a party of riders numbering ten, but as a scout for other groups, a yolrider is dangerous. He prepares for whatever is to come, but he is in no way prepared for the yol to dive down at a rapid pace and fly so close overhead that he feels the beat of its wings, nor is he prepared for what he hears:

Baidar, yelling at the top of his lungs from the back of the yol, “HEY JAGADAI!”

The noise that hits Baidar as he brings the yol in for a landing on the edge of the current encampment of the Oroq is a palpable thing; Jagadai had raced ahead to notify the tribe of Baidar’s unlikely triumph at the Mettle, and fully a third of the tribe, mostly the young ones and few of the warriors who fought beside of Jagadai, is waiting, cheering, yelling, asking questions, and mostly wondering “how?” He fancies as he dismounts from the yol that Azim himself can hear the clamor of the tribe at his triumph. He is sixteen years old and he has defeated the Mettle. He feels someone smash into him, and he half expects it to be Jagadai, but no, it’s Samga, and the girl hugs him tight before saying “You ridiculous fool, how did you do this?”

Baidar is about to answer when he realizes that the clamor is gone, that all he can hear now is the wind as it whips across the Sea of Blades, and he is not surprised when the crowd clears and there’s his father, his mother at his side, and the expression of disapproval on both of their faces simply murders the mood. He sees confusion on Samga’s face, confusion on the faces of the youngsters that surround him, especially the children, but he isn’t shocked. Nothing I do meets their approval. I’m not Jagadai, he thinks. He rests an arm against the neck of the yol and gives his parents his most reckless, carefree smile. “I’m back,” he says. “Made a friend.”

Bujir is silent for a long moment, before he shakes his head and sighs. “You left the tribe alone. You violated our custom and tradition. You were to be eighteen, my son, if not older, and would only attempt it if we intended to fight in the Nadaam. What do you expect for someone who flaunts our tradition and laws?”

“I do not know. ‘Hey, son, see you’re back. How’s Bardam’s Mettle this time of year’?” A few of the crowd chuckle, but quietly. It did not do to offend the khan, after all.

Bujir considers his son for a moment. “You succeeded at the Mettle, then?”

Jagadai steps up beside his brother, doing, as he always does, his best to navigate the gulf between Bujir and Baidar. “What, father, do you think he just found a yol out on the Steppe and talked it into coming? He succeeded. He is Baidar Yolrider of the Oroq now.” Whether you like it or not, he does not say.

Ibakha moves between Bujir and his sons, forestalling whatever the khan is likely to say next. “He is a yolrider, yes. But he also disobeyed the will of the Khan and the traditions of the Oroq. When you are khan, Jagadai, you’ll understand how important it is that your word is obeyed”

“When I am khan, I will accord warriors with the respect they deserve for their achievements, even if they break with tradition,” Jagadai says. He knows that both he and Baidar will pay for this moment in future days; Bujir, after all, does not treat either of his sons well, he just avoids most of it because he has the fortune to be the firstborn. He looks at the tribe and says “Let them have this moment, father. We can debate how wrong Baidar was later.”

Bujir nods, sternly. “I bow to your wisdom, my son. Celebrate the triumph of Baidar Yolrider then.” He and Ibakha turn in eerie precision and march in their direction of the khan’s yurt.

They have not yet reached it when the clamor begins anew.

“I am sorry, Baidar,” Jagadai shouts over the noise of the crowd. “I honestly don’t give a fuck how old you are, you’ve done something no Oroq has. You did well.”

Baidar is somber for a long moment as the celebration continues to break out around him. Then he flashes his brother a wicked grin and says “Just getting started. One day I’ll win the Nadaam.”

Jagadai laughs. “Sometimes I almost believe you will.”

#FFxivWrite2020 #ffxivwrite #baidar's parents are so conservative they'd vote Republican

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watchoutforthefanfics · 4 years

Text

Kiss Me, You Fool

It's been ages, but I've decided that the best way to do this is just to do it.

Sorry for the wait K.A., but I got overwhelmed. And now, we're here.

INSPO: Put Your Head On My Shoulder - Paul Anka

TWS: Unrequited love (not for the main pair), food mention, light crying/angst.

Word Count: 5,192

|//◇♡◇\\|

'Alright, this is... idiotic,' Roman huffed, staring at himself in the mirror, '-you are so much better than this, Prince Roman.'

Roman ran a hand through his unkempt hair, quietly cursing the visible nervousness in his body language. He needed to be as confident as ever because after all, he was confidence.

"This is easy," Roman rolled his eyes, "-you confess to things every day! To the townspeople in the Imagination, you are as honest as you possibly can be."

He hummed, adjusting his sash slightly, and clearing his throat. Lying wasn't so hard, right?

"But, of course, it isn't."

A new voice echoed through the forest, as Roman nearly jumped into the lake that he had once looked serenely into. As always, the voice was buttery smooth and Roman could feel it all the way in his toes.

Deceit's voice was heaven-sent, Roman could give him that. And the black-suited him really well. And he had skills in the way of flattery. And-

"Oh, dear Roman... Have you been, dare I say it, heartbroken?" Deceit spoke, as smooth as the rivers flowed just to their left.

Roman didn't speak, all he truly felt was a sort of shame; he had fallen in love with his best friend, who was claimed. Betrothed. Loved.

By someone else.

"Surely," Deceit hummed, his fingertips dancing over his shoulders, "-a breathtaking prince such as yourself has options, no?"

Roman finally uttered, composing himself, "I appreciate the flattery, Dee, but truly, don't pity me. I'm not worth the extra thoughts. This is my own fault, I..."

Deceit skimmed his fingers over Roman's collar, pulling it to perfection, "We can't have such a dreamboat so down, now can we?"

"Dece-" Roman began, perfectly fine to suffer by himself.

"Roman," Deceit tugged at his collar, drawing Roman's direct attention to the side just before his eyes, "-I'm here to help you."

Roman scrunched his eyebrows, "You... want to help me?"

Deceit rolled his eyes, tugging Roman ever closer, "Not only light sides deal with unrequited affections, dear prince~"

Roman opened his mouth briefly, almost asking him who he'd had unrequited affections for, but shut it at the idea of finding out.

He had too much going on right now, anyway.

"What do you get out of this?"

Deceit feigned offense, holding a hand to his chest, "You expect so little of me, Roman."

Roman perked a brow, not second-guessing his decision, awaiting a response; Deceit made deals, not favors.

Deceit sighed, rubbing his hands on his temple, "Prince, I know I'm not always honest. However, from a side to a side, I'd like to help you."

Roman pursed his lips, a little confused, "Out of the generosity of your heart?"

The snake-like side grinned and shook his head, "No, more like our of the logistics of your situation, your highness."

Roman debated whether or not that was sarcastic, all the while noticing that Deceit hadn't stopped touching him during this entire enco-

NOT THE TIME.

"Logistics?" he asked, following Deceit as he ventured out into the forest -- to touch a tree, he guessed.

"Ah, yes-" Deceit hummed, almost a little defensively, "-you're in love with Virgil, no? Patton is currently dating Virgil, knocking him out of the equation, and both Logan and Remus are absolutely... useless in this situation."

"So..." Roman answered, "-you're my best bet then?"

"Yes," Deceit spun around to meet Roman's eyes, "-and I think with this... particular situation, I can help you. Do you wish for it, prince?"

Roman paused, lulling over the ideas in his head; at this point, Deceit knew. And he was particularly... skilled in this area, so... who could it hurt? Right?

"Okay, fine. If you wish to help me, I suppose you can."

"Well," Deceit bowed, taking his hand and pressing it gently to his lips, "-it'll be my pleasure."

《◇◇◇》

Roman stared at Virgil and Patton from across the room, silently chastising himself for letting himself slip. Letting himself fall for someone who was happy.

It wasn't fair to either Patton or Virgil that he had been too careless, that he couldn't be in the same room as them without feeling sick to his stomach with guilt.

"Roman?" Virgil raised a brow, with a questioning glance, "Everything okay, buddy?"

Roman blinked, shaking his head out of his thoughts, "Of course! You two are just... plain adorable! I wish I could have such a mighty romance as that."

Virgil flushed bright red to the tips of his ears, as Patton giggled just beside him and, like Roman had always wanted to, kissed him right on that rosy cheek.

It wasn't fair that he had done this to them.

"Hello boys," a familiar voice hummed, one that Roman froze in his seat for, "-I'm here for the prince. Don't mind me, truly."

Roman watched as Virgil and Patton looked at him confused like they didn't expect the two to be associating.

"Well," he stood, approaching Deceit with a plastered on but brilliant grin, "-that's my curfew, lovebirds! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

Deceit had a bright smile on his lips, as he extended his elbow towards Roman; which he had seriously debated taking, and ended up doing so... because well, what's the harm?

His skin was cold and it definitely sent a sizzle down his veins, but he'd hardly paid it any mind. After all, physical touch was his comfort. He didn't mind who it came from.

《◇◇◇》

"You know," Roman spoke, at a late at night meeting with Deceit on how to cope, "-you never told me who you had an unrequited love for?"

"That's-" Deceit sputtered, his skin flushing a bright pink (that Roman would love to see again) "-that's not important... What does that have to do with this conversation?"

"Hey!" Roman sat up, pulling himself upright on the bed, "You know all my secrets, do you not trust me enough to know yours?"

Deceit sighed, "What am I going to do with you, prince? You weren't even listening! My go-"

Roman fell into a sort of silence, watch Deceit as he rambled. It was a lot like Logan's rambles, full of concerns and knowledge beyond belief, but it wasn't boring.

He liked watching the way Deceit's face twisted when he was trying to get his point across, the way his eyes fell to the ground when he was truly honest, and the way his hands flew all around the room trying to stress each word he had let his mouth speak.

Speaking of hands, Deceit seemed to be so flustered... his other arms had come out, each flying in a different direction. One rubbing his temples, another fidgeting with his hair, and one was reaching for.. something.

He wasn't sure what brought him to do so, but in a breath, Roman had grabbed the hand.

It was extended in his direction, so he probably wasn't far off. It was just odd to immediately think to just grab his hand, rather than just leave it hanging.

Deceit blinked, all of his hands freezing in their places, and Roman was immediately tensed. Maybe he had read that wrong?

Maybe he had violated some sort of boundary and now, Deceit hated him? Did he mess this up? He couldn't do this without hi-

"Are you... Are you holding my hand?" Deceit asked, with an oddly uncertain voice and Roman -for the first time- could tell it was an honest reaction.

"Uh..." Roman glanced at his hand that was laced with Deceit's with a guilty grin, "...yes?"

Deceit paused just for a moment, his eyes speaking volumes of panic, yet his face... He was blushing.

Virgil's was a light pink, scattered across his face and at the tips of his ears, but Deceit's?

His was a ruby rose and flushed down to his collar bone. It was a storm, a bright red storm, and Roman couldn't have been... more proud.

He had caused those clouds to rumble, and the ever so gorgeous Deceit was melting in his fingertips-

Wait a minute.

"I-" Deceit cleared his throat, "I have to... go and reign Remus in. Yes."

And with a blink, Roman was left in his room, alone. All he could think about, however, was oddly... Deceit.

He had been excited to get that kind of reaction out of him, and maybe... maybe, he wanted to do it again.

《◇◇◇》

Roman was currently... deep within his thoughts. Not even sparing a passing glance at Patton and Virgil, who sat just across from him.

It was odd.

He normally, couldn't stand being in there for even a second; his heart would clench and his eyes would water, and-

That doesn't matter now.

Because he's been sitting there for 45 minutes, without a single issue curling up inside of him. No bitter taste in his mouth, no poetic pain at all.

It had been a few months... since the whole predicament. When Deceit had proposed to help, that is.

And now, he found himself putting himself in situations with the two... just for Deceit to step in.

Roman couldn't really fathom it, well... he could. He'd known the buzz that would shoot through him, when Deceit would brush his fingers against his shoulder or when Deceit would just smirk in his direction.

Roman could melt at the flash within his eye when he smiled like... that.

And it didn't help that he was looking at his mouth eith-

"Roman?"

Speak of the devil, he glanced up at the half-scaled figure in front of him, "Ah yes, Dee. I'm coming at once."

Roman grinned, as bright as a beacon, and spun to the pair, "Goodbye, friends! Next night, I choose the movie, no?"

Patton grinned, "Of course!"

Virgil was looking at him a bit odd though; to be fair, Roman hadn't spoken to him one on one in months... and they used to be best friends.

Roman needed to work on that, he noted somewhere deep in his head; as all thoughts were whisked away with Deceit's hand lacing with his.

He felt like he was floating, so calmly across the floor, as his stomach flipped and his lips couldn't help but smile.

"Roman!" Deceit hissed, "Are you even listening?"

Roman blinked, "Yes, sorry. I was... lost in thoughts, I suppose. Um, what were you saying, sunshine?"

Deceit quirked a brow, pursing his lips, "Dear Prince, you know you can't fool me. Don't you?"

"I would never."

"Then," Deceit hummed, squinting at him, "-what's troubling you, my prince?"

You can't faint, you can't faint. Roman, you are better than this-

"I just-" Roman sighed, slumping his shoulders, "-I miss my best friend, Dee. Virgil... I haven't talked to him since all of this got... weird and I don't feel right without my best friend, you know?"

Deceit paused, his face unmoving and his posture unflinching, "Why not talk to him?"

"Well, I-"

"If Virgil is really your best friend-" Deceit hummed, straightening Roman's sash with a quick brush of his fingers, "-I don't believe it'll be an issue, will it?"

"I-" Roman bit his lip, "I suppose not."

"Exactly," Deceit spoke, with a tinge of pride in his tone, "-I don't see why you can't, but..."

"Yeah," Roman paused, as they stopped in front of Deceit's door as comfortable in the habit as probably possible, "-I just... I wish I hadn't made everything so complicated."

Deceit hummed, his eyebrow twitching at his want to say something -an odd thing Roman had noticed- but he hadn't exactly formed it in his head yet.

The two fell into the comfort of Deceit's room, he was probably more comfortable than he should be at this point, but he didn't mind.

Deceit pulled him into a black leather couch, each sitting on their respective cushions. Roman ached to touch Deceit again but didn't wish to be uncomfortable, so he sat.

Just until he felt a head lean on his shoulder with a hushed movement, and he placed his head on top of his in a swift gesture.

He was cold, yes, but it was oddly soothing.

"Roman?"

"Yes?"

"You know... you know I'm always here if you need me, don't you? No matter what the others say about me... You mean a lot to me, and I wouldn't want you to deal with anything alone... when I could be there too."

There was a pause, a breath of silence that Roman found such comfort in. He just wanted to curl up into it until he could no longer.

"Thank you."

《◇◇◇》

Roman would definitely say this was a low point in his life. It was currently 3 AM, and he couldn't sleep because of how much his head was buzzing, as the sizzle of a frying pan, except all he could think about, was Deceit.

Deceit's eyes and hair and fingers and arms and lips and clothes and smile and cheeks and scales and god-

So, he was making his way to a familiar room that he'd once avoided like a plague. The mind palace was quiet, as he crept down to the purple door with drawn in cobwebs and the smell of lavender. (Probably something Patton got him.)

He held up his fist with a dash of uncharacteristic hesitation, but in this... situation, it made sense.

With a gentle tapping, Roman realized there was no turning back and this was one step into something he'd avoided for... months. Hopefully, Virgil wouldn't kill him.

It had been quiet for a while, and Roman almost stepped away from the door, afraid of interjecting on something that wasn't his place.

But, in a sudden fit of confidence, he stood his ground.

"Virgil?" Roman whispered, "I... I know it's been a while, but I just... I need my best friend right no-"

The door swung open, and there stood his best friend, shaggy hair and all. His eyeshadow was... smudged though, and his cheeks were flushed and his nose was stuffy-

Before he could even speak, Virgil tackled him into a hug that he... honestly did not expect.

"You're a bitch-" Virgil muttered into his shoulder, and Roman decided not to comment on the sniffle, "- you know that, right?"

"I'm a bad bitch, but-" Roman spoke, "-that's irrelevant. Are you oka-"

Virgil groaned, dragging him into his room with the tug of the sleeve of his robe. His silky, just washed robe, that he'd kill Virgil for matting up-

"Princey," Virgil tsked, his tone concerned but all the while stern, "-you been avoiding me for..."

He turned around, as black hash marks evaporated onto the wall, and he seemed to briskly scan them for a second.

"For," he regained, turning back to Roman with a flare in his eyes, "-five months, two weeks, three days, four hours, t-"

"No, no-" Roman huffed, "-I get it. It's just... a bit complicated, and a really long story."

"Well," Virgil fell into a bean bag chair, pretending to check his "wristwatch", "-good thing I've got time then, huh?"

Roman bit his lip, "Are you sure? This may get a little w-"

"Princey." Virgil's eyes flared a purple tone, as his eyebrow raised and Roman suddenly knew he meant business.

"Okay," Roman crossed his arms, falling into the red beanbag just beside his newly seated friend, "-fine! You asked for it."

Virgil nodded, "Now, continue."

Roman wrung his hands out in a quiet huffing of breath, "Are you sure you wanna do thi-"

"PRINCEY, I swear to... If you don't start talking, I'll-"

His head was pounding as Virgil kept talking, and he just wanted to say it. Get it out of his brain, and finally be finished with such dumb feelin-

"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU! I realized it when you got with Patton and I couldn't do anything. I wanted you to be happy and I'm sorry-"

The silence was... deafening and Roman could feel a weight lift from his shoulders, so easily lifted. Yet, his stomach was churning at the thought of his best friend... never wanting him in his life again.

God, he messed this all up, didn't he?

Virgil was sunk into his beanbag with a flushed face (to the tips of his ears), he eventually squeaked out, "Y-You... what?"

Roman sucked air through his teeth, "See, I knew this was a bad idea. Listen, let's just not go there. I'm here for a separate reason, ok-"

"Roman," Virgil spoke, steadying, "-it's okay, I'm just... shocked is all... You said was, right? Because Patton is probably the light of my li-"

"Yes," Roman began with a faded smile, "-I guess I did say was. That's the entire reason I'm here."

Virgil leaned backward, in his beanbag with much-changed demeanor (maybe to just avoid the topic), "Let me take a stab, no?"

Roman opened his mouth, but decided against it and nodded. What's the harm, right?

"You came to me at... let's see-" Virgil tapped the side of his beanbag chair, "-about 4 in the morning because... you have fallen in love with Deceit and can't get him out of your head."

"I don't-" Roman sputtered, his face getting hot with a nervous laugh, "-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't-" Virgil teased, with a smile, "-but you're the one who came to my room at 4 in the morning. Sounds like Princey is a little lovesick to me."

Roman paused, "Okay, y-you've got me. I'm just... This is so unlike me, and I'm not sure how to handle this situation. Because I think I'm in love with him, but how do I know if he's in love with me? And how do I confess to Deceit? He's so much more than I'd ever imagi-"

"Woah, woah," Virgil grabbed his shoulders, "-Princey, calm down. You're starting to sound like me!"

Roman pursed his lips, as Virgil kept his eyes focused on him in concern, this was not the usual Roman he knew.

"I'm not..." Virgil started, a little unsure, "I'm not the romantic one here, but... if there's anything I know about Deceit... It's that you need to be genuine and... probably over the top. Because he's a dramatic bitch."

Roman laughed, and Virgil brightened slightly (sometimes he didn't know he was helping), "But so are you, so... I know this advice is... repeated a lot. But... just be yourself, okay? And follow your gut."

Roman nodded, solidly, "You know, Emo Nightmare, you are much more helpful than you think."

"Eh," Virgil shrugged, falling back into his beanbag chair, "-I try."

The princely side smiled, "Well, shouldn't you be off to bed? It's incredibly late, and I imagine Patton would be upset if you were up any longer."

Roman watched his face morph at the thought of Patton, and for the first time, genuinely thought that it was adorable.

"Well," Virgil laughed, scratching the back of his neck, "-this might sound stupid... But, who cares? I stay up because Patton sleeps in his own bed, and he gets nightmares, you know? He comes into my room, and... I gotta be awake to comfort him, so... yeah."

Roman grinned, "That's incredibly sweet of you, Virgil; I honestly didn't know you had it in you."

"Shut up," Virgil flushed to his ears again, throwing a pillow at him in a swift movement.

"Alright, okay!" he chuckled, adjusting his sash, "I should probably get back to my realm, start brainstorming, I assume."

"Or sleeping?" Virgil added, with a finger gun awkwardly.

Roman left and stepped towards the door. A little hesitantly as he felt like something had been, left in the air there. Something needed to be said-

"Oh, and Roman?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you ever ignore me like that again... okay? We're best friends, no matter what we're going through."

And if later that night, Roman cried in his room at the pure thought of getting his best friend back... Only his posters saw such a sight.

《◇◇◇》

Roman hummed along, as he gently planted each pancake with perfection. They didn't technically have to eat, but it was a simple pleasure in the mind palace.

Plus, it was a big day. It was the day. The day that Roman would confess to Deceit.

Logan, unsurprisingly, was the first one in the kitchen with a roll of the eyes, "We don't need the food; however, I thank you for the effort."

"You're welcome, Nerd."

In next, was oddly enough Remus, but Roman wasn't that surprised because well... his brother had a thing for Logan. He'd probably been watching him and timed it perfectly to walk in after him. He was weird like that.

"Hello, brother! You're up... early?"

"Good morning, Roman! I've got havoc to reek, I'm very busy, you know."

Roman sighed, trying to reach out to him, "Remus don't-"

Then, there he was. The man of the hour, and he looked rather... adorable.

Every side knew that Deceit was the shortest, mostly because when he stood next to Patton... he was itty-bitty. Usually, this was evened out by his composed nature and classy outfit, which Roman adored.

Yet, here he was... tiny Dee with messy hair and the fuzziest pajamas Roman had ever seen. Roman was not going to make it, he truly was not-

“Hello, darling-“ he managed out, with his knees weak and surely face flushed, “-uh, would you like some pancakes?”

Deceit raised an eyebrow and Roman chose to ignore the scarlet tint to the human side of his face, “Yes, thank you, Roman.”

Roman paused, faltering for just a second, as he gave a charming grin and held out a plate of pancakes. And god, Deceit was smiling at him, like a sweet, warm, genuine, little smile... and he almost melted to the ground.

Like a pathetic little puddle.

“Roman?” Deceit hummed, in a hoarse morning voice, “Did you hear me, prince?”

Roman shook his head, “My apologies, I was just, um... Can you repeat what you said?”

Deceit smirked -making his knees wobble-, “The syrup?”

“Oh, yes-“ Roman cleared his throat, letting their fingers brush and almost fainting in the process, but that was normal.

Deceit grinned, shaking his head and making his way into the kitchen, “Until, I see you again, dear prince.”

Roman swallowed, waving because he truly did not trust his words at this point; as the couple of the hour waltzed in for breakfast. He could finally calm down, thank goodness-

“Aww,” Patton smiled as bright as the Sun, “-Roman, this looks so delicious! Thank you!”

Virgil winked at him, with a smirk, “At least you can do something right, Princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes, “Emo Nightmare, don’t even.”

The two trailed off into the dining room with lovesick grins, which Roman couldn’t wait to get his own of.

He imagined in his head how Deceit's would look, with wistful eyes and a small... yet genuine smile.

Just as he was about to whisk away his own plate, he peeked over the corner, and stared at Deceit with his tired eyes and holding back a grin. His Dee wouldn't be caught dead laughing at one of Patton's horrendous puns.

You know, he could probably end up loving him for the rest of his life.

《◇◇◇》

The rest of the morning was uninteresting, and Roman was... uncharacteristically nervous. Like foot bouncing, temple sweating, thick swallow, nervousness.

This could not be a good sign.

"Roman," Patton assured, in the hushed shadows, "-you are the bravest prince of all the land, you've got this. Okay? We're all here for you."

Virgil added, a bit nervous but he always was, "If there's anyone in this world who can romance Deceit, it's you Princey."

Roman nodded, his hand shaking a bit, and calming himself silently. It was easy when you had the power of creation at your fingertips, he'd simply imagine a meadow and it'd be there.

"Flowers," Roman spoke, slowly and surely, "-do you think flowers are a good bet? I mean Deceit, he's kind of unclear and I just want this to be perfe-"

"Yes," Virgil spoke, a distant look in his eye, "-we were... the others. Deceit had his own garden, it was oddly pretty and he cared for it quite well; he seems unlike it, but he loves nature. Might just be the snake talking but..."

"No," Roman smiled, standing and wringing his hands together, "-no. I think you're onto something, Virgil. I appreciate your help, very much so. I believe I must depart to my beloved now, stay in love, losers!"

Patton stood on his tippy toes bouncing up and down, "Keep us updated, Ro!"

Giving them a salute, Roman sunk into the hallway of a place he knew well. Too well in recent months, actually.

He stood outside a door, that was dark with yellow snakes painted all in weaving patterns amongst each other. It was oddly a beautiful sight to see, and Roman had memorized them.

Deceit had told him their names, and for a second, he couldn't remember them at all. It was the nerves, clogging up his brain and he couldn't think straight at this point.

This was it.

He had to do it, he wouldn't regret it.

Even if Deceit would hate him-

Oh God.

Just as Roman felt the urge to spin around, the door opened, wide and welcoming.

And, there he was.

"Roman," Deceit hummed, "-uh, hello?"

Roman grinned, wringing his hands and almost forgetting the sunflowers he held tightly in his right hand, "Can I come in?"

Deceit paused, a gleam in his eye that Roman didn't recognize. But, it seemed cold... unlike the ones he'd seen just earlier.

"Sure, Prince. Is something... wrong?"

"Uh," Roman bounced his leg, "-no! I'm just... I got these for you, I didn't know what kind of flowers you like. So, I just got a safe bet of yellow flowers? And I-"

Deceit smiled lightly, "Thank you, prince... But, what's the occasion? Like I said you don't have to thank me for helping you, it was-"

Roman exhaled, holding Deceit's hand gently and considerately, "It's uh, not that."

Standing randomly in the middle of his room, Roman found it hard not to tell the truth. He was deception, after all; so, he guessed that was normal.

"Deceit," Roman spoke, carefully but without hesitance, "-I've... I've fallen in love with you."

The sly side paused, eyes widening and his human face flushing.

There was a breath, and suddenly, Deceit pulled his hand back from Roman with a bit of disgust.

"This-" Deceit shook his head, and hugged himself, "-this isn't funny. Who... who out you up to this? Was it Remus? I knew I couldn't trust him, but he was all I had."

Roman kept his distraught at bay, "What do you mean? I... I love you."

"No," Deceit answered back, his eyes glassy and Roman wanted everything in the world to reach out, "-you don't."

The princely figure stepped back, a little startled, "How would you know? I'm speaking from the depths of my heart, and I love you. I love you."

Suddenly, Deceit straightened -discreetly wiping the tears from his eyes-, "Second boys will be first choice. Especially if the first one rejects you, no?"

"Dee," Roman added, desperately, "-no, that's not what this is about. I swear-"

"Then..." Deceit hummed, faltering a bit, "-why did you go to Virgil's room? A few nights ago. I heard you, y-you... you told him you were in love with him."

Roman chuckled, inching closer to Deceit, "What? Oh, oh... I... I needed to talk to someone about you. He's my best friend, he wanted to know why I'd left him out of my life for so long. I had to tell him."

Deceit was turned around, and silence ensued after a few beats. It was quiet, and Roman hated it.

"I'll-" Roman began rambling, "-I'll get Virgil, he can explain if you need it. I will drag him by his emo bangs as quick as you say the word-"

Deceit spoke, breathy, "I... I believe you, Roman. It's just... you're not in the right mindset. You're not... thinking straight, you just got your heart broken. And I was there, that's why you think you love me, you can't-"

Roman cleared his throat, breathing in through his nose, "It's been months, Dee. Months, of spending time with you. I don't know how to-"

He scrambled, just for a second relying on his brain to come up with a plan, an idea, anything-

"I-" Roman started, trying to recenter himself, "- love that you'd do this whole thing for me. I love how selfless you are, even though, Thomas thinks you're the villain. I love your rants about the societal issues and pressures on people these days, and how if you get really frustrated, all of your arms will start to flail. I love how you flush a red down your collarbone, every time I smile at you. I love that you can listen to anyone with so much respect, and stay tuned in. I love that... I love that you are so, honest, even though you are literally the embodiment of lies. I love you, I love you so much. And I just want you to see that."

Deceit was quiet, and the air in the room was so thick, Roman could hardly breathe.

This was it, he'd poured his soul out and if Deceit didn't reciprocate... Well, he didn't want to think about it.

"Do you remember-" Deceit sniffled, "-in the beginning, when you asked me who I had an unrequited love for?"

“Oh, yes-” Roman faltered, “-if you want to be with him, I get it. I didn’t mean to be pushy, I just needed to get this off my chest-”

“It was you.”

Deceit was facing him now, his nose red and Roman had never heard him be so honest in his entire life.

Roman squeaked, “Pardon?”

Deceit grinned, a gleam that sent a tingling feeling all the way to his toes, and stepped forward, “I still love you, but are you sure this isn’t some plan to get over Virgil or hurt my feelings-”

“Never,” Roman practically fainted, “-god, I’d never do that, darling.”

Deceit smiled, and in a fit of emotion, simply wrapped his arms around Roman and just held him there. It was a little shock, but quickly enough, the prince had his arms wrapped around him too.

“So,” Roman muttered into the top of his head, “-does this mean we’re dating now? Are you my boyfriend?”

Deceit chuckled, a deep rumble against his chest, “Yes, my prince.”

With a bellowing laugh, Roman swept his new boyfriend into his arms and kiss every inch of his face he could, until Deceit stepped in.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

#ts roceit #watchoutwriting #watchanswers #ts moxiety #ts intrulogical mention #requests

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daesungindistress · 5 years

Note

(1/1) The amount of patience you have in replying to these people amazes me. I, at least, appreciate all the work and research you've done in digging up and explaining all this stuff. The mental gymnastics some of these stans are putting them through literally makes my head hurt. I think the main reason why I enjoy your blog so much, and the reason why i appreciate your lengthy and well thought out responses, is because I feel I went through a very similar thought process with this whole thing.

(2/2). I thought SR was innocent or misrepresented, etc. But the main reason why I decided to not support him anymore was because of his absolute apathy towards the female victims. Whether you believe he’s 100% guilty, 100% innocent or anything in between, you cant deny that he has never ever said 1 word of sympathy or empathy for the female victims. Not 1. His only words were dont get caught. He can express empathy w/o admitting guilt. Why do you want to stan someone like that?

–

First of all, that you think I have any patience left for these people is pretty funny. I mean, I’m glad it looks that way to you, but I’m not exactly proud of the way I’ve been snapping at people this year. I’m not normally like this, promise. I’m just so fed up with everything. It’s been a long, hard year.

“Whether you believe he’s 100% guilty, 100% innocent or anything in between, you cant deny that he has never ever said 1 word of sympathy or empathy for the female victims. Not 1.”

This! This is something that really gets me. Back when I was still rooting for him, every time he would put himself out there and speak I thought, “Please, please say something to or about the women directly affected by this.” Not only did I need to see that he cared, let’s be real, I still cared about him and his image at the time and it would have helped. A carefully worded expression of sympathy, a few words making it clear that he felt contrite about what he’d seen and kept silent about, or even something as basic as an acknowledgement that what had been done to them was wrong. Like so many others, I waited and hoped… and it never came.

At first I reasoned that he couldn’t offer anything resembling an apology because it might be seen as an admission of guilt. Then I learned that viewing hidden camera footage (along with the lesser offense of simply knowing about it), the only evidence of his involvement we had at the time, isn’t technically a crime in South Korea. It isn’t punishable. Which means that speaking up about it, apologizing for his involvement, however minimal, would not have landed him in any legal trouble. Everyone knew he’d been in that chat, everyone saw what he replied to. But he wouldn’t address it.

So then I thought, “Well, an apology could be seen as an admission of guilt on his friends’ behalf. Maybe he’s shielding them.” However, Jung Joonyoung issued a statement of apology the day after the chats were released – yes, the very next day! – admitting to his crimes of secretly filming these women and disseminating the footage in chatrooms, calling what he’d done “illegal and immoral”. Then, just two days after that, Choi Jonghoon also issued a letter in which he apologized to the victims (it’s buried a few paragraphs in)… and in that same letter announced his retirement. Why, when his friends had already publicly taken responsibility for their involvement in the chats, would Seungri choose not to do the same for his? Why withhold his sympathy? Did he even have any? Surely it occurred to him that he should say something… or did it? Compare Jonghoon’s letter of retirement with Seungri’s rather curt announcement in which he positions himself as a victim and a martyr. There’s very little here that feels sincere or truly apologetic; to me it reads more like an angry, offended little boy taking his toys and going home. This is why I have no hope for him learning from this or bettering himself as a person; he doesn’t seem to think he’s done anything wrong.

So, where do the women victims come in? See Seungri’s closing statement in his Chosun interview: “I am greatly apologetic to the many people that looked at me with interest for the last 10 years, the fans and nation that cheered me on, my former company YG, and to my team and colleagues.” Hello? Seems like he’s forgetting someone – or consciously avoiding mentioning them. Even when directly confronted about it in his Chosun interview, when asked why he was a bystander, nothing about his response was remotely remorseful. Instead, what we got was an awkward, bumbling attempt to make himself look better without ever acknowledging the moral degeneracy of it all. Like he was aware of what was expected of him but didn’t actually feel regret over his failure to stop it… he only regrets that people didn’t see him try (if it’s even true that he tried). As if the only thing he cares about is what others think of him, not the victims who he let down, not what’s right or wrong. He issued an apology to Kim Sang Kyo of all people after he was roughed up by police at Burning Sun, something he’s actively tried to distance himself from… but that was when he was still with YG and had a publicist on his side. Yet these women who were assaulted by his friends, clandestinely filmed and exploited, the footage of their bodies spread in chatrooms where he was present, aware of it, and even reacted with humor on at least one occasion… now that he’s on his own, nothing about them. Nothing at all.

To make matters worse, he sent an angry text message to reporters in which he complained about his privacy being violated, his private information leaked without permission. So, what, in his eyes this is only a problem so far as it pertains to him, but when it happens to someone else, and in a way that’s far worse? Not a word.

How can he be so preoccupied with himself? How self-absorbed? What he has done here is display a shocking lack of empathy and awareness for others. I guess he figured that since he wasn’t legally on the hook for anything related to these women and their trauma, it wasn’t his problem. They weren’t his problem. We’re more than nine months in and there’s not been a peep from him about anything that he’s decided doesn’t immediately concern him. His staunch refusal to so much as allude to the women who’ve had their lives turned upside-down by this is very telling.

It’s downright disturbing, to be honest, the more you think about it. Total immersion in a state of self-preservation at best, misogynistic and/or sociopathic at worst.

#seungri #I once saw another fan say "I think he's a sociopath and I hope he gets help'#and I laughed #but then I thought... wait #there might be something to this #he meets many of the criteria #just throwing that out there #burning sun #ask #anon

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racefortheironthrone · 5 years

Text

Thoughts on House of X #3

Ah, back to HoX in what feels like the first time in forever.

Death and Memory:

As we might expect for an issue that concerns itself entirely with a special forces mission, the issue starts with an exploration of the psychology of the participants - starting with Scott himself, although the idea of a mission leader who has to overcome his fears and doubts for a higher purpose isn’t particularly novel for the genre.

Throughout HoX/PoX, there’s a significant part of the fandom that has focused on question of consent - which is something we’ll definitely get into in this and future posts - but it’s noticeable that this discussion doesn’t include this segment, where Scott is very careful to describe the mission as done by “people who accept the mission for what it is” who “understand the stakes and the risk.”

I like how the responses from Cyclops’ superiors not only emphasize the themes of the series but also the character of the speakers: Xavier’s response is (a bit too?) intimate, talking about Scott’s thoughts with the first-hand knowledge of a lifelong mentor who is also a telepath, emphasizing the concept of “family” which we’ll see bandied about through House of X #6, and most crucially promising him that “you’re not going to die. I won’t allow it.” As we learn later, Xavier is being quite literal.

By contrast, Magneto’s speech is all high politics, emphasizing the righteousness of the mission, the Achillean route to immortality “by their mighty works,” and the role that national myth plays in turning real people into icons that live on after their death. We’ll see quite a few Krakoan Founding Fathers as the series goes on, from the Five to the Quiet Council. Given the existential nature of the threat that Cyclops’ team are facing down, it’s not surprising that they’re treated with a bit of Nathan Hale hero-worship.

So let’s talk about the team composition. As people have noted, while some of them make a lot of sense (you need psychics, you need teleporters, you need sneakers and fighters), others are a bit odd. Archangel’s an odd inclusion, given the restrictions the mission will place on flying, although to be honest we don’t know what his or Husk’s role was supposed to be, because they never get to do anything.

Focusing more on the broader parameters of the mission: Cyclops is quite up-front about Mother Mold as the proximate danger and Nimrod as the ultimate danger, as well as the no “taking Krakoan fauna with us.” I would agree that Mystique’s body language and dialogue wrt to maybe breaking that rule are quite suspicious here, but if there is any significance to this plot thread, it’ll have to wait for Powers of X #6 and/or Dawn of X.

Incidentally, I don’t buy at all arguments from some elements of the fandom that the X-Men are being mind-controlled or are pod people - we see Archangel and Husk disagreeing with Monet, Cyclops clashing with Mystique...and between Wolverine and Marvel Girl. Prefiguring her role in establishing the Second Law of Krakoa, Jean Grey argues for sparing the “human crew” as non-combatants (”they’re not soldiers in the war...they’re just scientists”), whereas Logan argues that the Orchis crew are constructing “machines to exterminate a species,” making them war criminals as well as military personnel.

Incidentally, I really like the Krakoan flower on the Blue Area of the Moon being used to boost the X-Men’s space capabilities. It’s a lovely sci-fi touch, and one that shows Krakoa as both innovative and outward-facing but also expansionist if not outright colonialist.

Machines Infographic:

It’s really hard to discuss Sentinels without thinking about Hickman’s other infographics about ascending hierarchies of machine intelligences.

It’s highly significant that the Alpha Sentinels are set aside from those above them as non-sentient and non-replicating...hence why they are referred to as “drones,” which suggests an insect metaphor. (Incidentally, the original Alpha sentinels seemed to have some awareness, so there’s clearly some retconning going on.)

the Master Mold is replicating, adaptive, and self-aware, all higher functions that we associate with...well, human beings (and maybe AIs?). And yet the Master Mold is clearly lesser than the Mother Mold, because it “is incpabale of improving beyond its ultimate Sentinel state” - in other words, because it lacks the full range of cognition and imagination.

Mother Molds can not only produce Master Molds, but it can also produce Nano-Sentinels who have no limits to their abilities - it’s all very similar to how Hickman conceptualizes Omega mutants vs. the rank-and-file.

While much of HoX/PoX have focused on the threat that Nimrod poses, I’m surprised we haven’t seen as much discussion about what the way that Hickman describes the Omega Sentinels tells us about Karima Shapandar’s role.

Most importantly, however, we get an info-dump about what Moira learned in her 9th Life (which also shows how Moira continues to exert influence on the plot from behind the scenes): it turns out that “while emergent A.Is are unavoidable, an anti-mutant Nimrod is not.” We don’t know why that’s the case, and I’m really curious whether part of the plan has something to do with creating a mutant or mutant-friendly emergent A.I, possibly through the Cerebro database.

It’s particularly ominous that we haven’t seen any follow-up on what the “incomplete” Nimrod origin files might mean - did the X-Men miss a backup or a failsafe? Did they get the ordering of Mother Mold and Nimrod wrong? Or is it just a dropped plot thread?

One thing that I like is that Sleeping Giant, Moira’s new plan, involves essentially an Orchis protocol for the Orchis protocol, looking for humans reaching “technological thresholds” at the same time that Orchis is looking for mutants reaching their own thresholds.

Project Achilles Infographic:

I’m not surprised that much of the fandom have focused on the nature of the Krakoan legal system, but I am surprised we’ve seen so little focus on the “Project Achilles” legal system.

To begin with, it’s not a good sign that someone who committed crimes in New York City is being tried in a super-max prison somewhere in the snowy mountains. Even more troubling is the discussion of “extra-constitutional requirements” of running this prison.

Finally, while it might be a bit pedantic, there’s osmething really really weird about the Department of State, the branch of government that’s supposed to be involved with foreign policy and diplomacy, running a domestic federal prison. The Federal Bureau of Prisons is a real thing, and there’s a good reason that it falls under the Department of Justice. Again, all this should be troubling.

A Fair Trial?

Things don’t get much better when we get inside the courthouse, where we see an armed judge chatting with an armed and armored Attorney General, whereas the defense is a clearly intimidated civilian.

The facade of justice begins to slip even more when the judge says “we’re charging your client” (judges don’t charge defendants, prosecutors do), and then brings up a “twelve-strike rule” that seems to follow the logic of “felony murder” in that the “intent” of the accused no longer matters.

For his part, Sabertooth is clearly enjoying playing the role of the outlaw, establishing his position that as far as he’s concerned, his physical strength places him above judgement or punishment. Something to keep in mind when we get to the question of assessing Krakoan law.

With her scent if not her reputation greatly preceeding her, Emma Frost arrives on the scene in a characteristic burst of high style and ominous undertones. The Cuckoos’ casual anti-human bigotry, equating humans with “monkeys...using tools...playing at civilization” suggests a poisonous reflection of the old Neanderthal/Cro-Magnon analogy. On the other hand, the White Queen and her “daughters” struggling with the new paradigm of mutant names > human names suggests that building a new, separate, mutant culture is more of a struggle than Magneto would like to admit.

As someone who’s very much interested in the nation-building side of the House of X story, the idea that the nascent nation-state of Krakoa would have negotiated for extra-territoriality is quite fascinating. At one and the same time, we’re shown the need for it - everyone from the judge to the prosecutor to the bailiffs are instantly drawing guns on un-armed defendant counsel and making it very clear that the judge had concluded that “that...thing is a killer” before the trial started - but we can’t ignore the long history of extra-territoriality as an expression of imperialism, either.

Then again, I wonder how much of the reaction of Western readers is due to the fact that we’re not used to seeing the U.S on the receiving end of demands for extra-territoriality. I wonder how people from countries that were formally colonized or made to sign “unequal” treaties feel about this storyline?

In the face of knee-jerk violent responses, Emma gets very personal about her diplomacy. She doesn’t use mind control to get her way, because the State Department has already given her all the leverage she needs by granting diplomatic immunity to “all Krakoans on United States soil.” That being said, as much as Emma is here to make a political point that “mutants won’t be judged in human courts,” she isn’t afraid to push back on Tolliver by threatening to make very clear how little the gun matters in “equalizing power dynamics.”

Omega Cycle Infographic:

This infographic is something of a sleeper - I haven’t seen much if any discussion with regards to Karima Shapandar’s role in either X^1 or X^2 timelines. However, it establishes quite clearly that the process of creating Omega Sentinels is a horrific violation of consent, where a person’s “host systems and organs” are replaced well before the “human host becomes aware of the combine consciousness.” Note the explicit comparison to “recovering from trauma.”

I’ve seen it asserted repeatedly that Karima Shapandar sided with Orchis (or later on with the Man-Machine Ascendancy) because she was excluded from Krakoa, without much evidence cited. This infographic suggests another reason - by proceeding from Union to Adaptation, Karima’s consciousness may have been altered, changing her allegiances along the way.

There are also implications for Ascension in the X^3 timeline - is “integration of host and machine” a process of cultural exchange and preservation or a hostile process of “infection”?

Crossing the Heller-Faust Line:

Before the action kicks off, we get an interesting thesis: “self-preservation is entirely rational...it’s the panic it produces where errors get introduced.” Throughout the next two issues, we see both sides acting in the name of self-preservation, but also constantly making decisions that ratchet up the body-count.

The initial context has a lot to do with Hickman’s fixation on the mechanical singularity and trans-humanism: continuing her X^2 interest in preserving humanity-qua-humanity, Omega Sentinel’s fear is that an out-of-control Mother Mold will result in the grey goo scenario, if the Sentinels’ drive to wipe out mutants leads them to wipe out humans as the source of mutation. It’s certainly easier than fighting the sun.

Indeed, throughout the next two issues, we will see humans wrestle with their fears of their own mechanical creations: Sol’s Forge is set up with failsafes to jettison Mother Mold into the sun, Dr. Gregor doesn’t initially want to wake up Mother Mold until the A.I has passed a test for sociopathy. We’ve seen what it looks like when A.Is fail this test, and it’s not pretty.

At this point, the X-Men arrive and what proceeds is a back-and-forth volley of both sides trying and failing to outflank the other. Both Krakoa and Orchis were “expecting to be fully online before we got their attention” and find themselves thrown into a fight before they were fully ready, and their improvizations make things more violent: first up, Orchis calls in the “drones from Mercury” (again with the terra-forming) who will kill Marvel Girl, all in the name of “a little fight for the survival of their people.”

Next, Kurt teleports onto the station to double-check their information and runs into Omega Sentinel - at this point, both sides are willing to talk, Omega Sentinel recognizes her opponent as a person and seeks to understand the X-Men’s psychology.

By contrast, Gregor and Erasmus under-estimate their foe with “a linear plan for a non-linear foe,” allowing the mutants to bypass the hanger bottleneck. Erasmus responds with the assymetric response of a suicide bomb, but I think there’s a fundamental ambiguity as to whether he’s doing this in the name of “whatever it takes to build a better world” or whether he’s doing it in the name of “don’t let them win.”

And so the X-Men lose their ride home, in what turns out to be only the first of many fake-outs.

#xmen #xmen meta #house of x #hoxpox

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