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grishaversecommunityyy · 3 years

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The Grishaverse Ship Survey Results

So! After all of that, we finally have the results! What is the general opinion on the ships in the Grishaverse? Well, that’s for you to read below! It’s actually pretty interesting and, while some parts make sense, there were definitely some parts which... surprised me... Anyway, onto the results!

Everything in this post can be split into:

The Grisha Trilogy

Six Of Crows Duology

The Nikolai Series

Shadow and Bone: TV Series

Most Enjoyed Ships

Least Enjoyed Ships

Crack Ships and Shipping Discourse

Notes from the Survey

(note from mod emily: i tried to bold all of fritz’ comments, but i might have missed a few! be aware there are two of us analysing here :))

The Grisha Trilogy

The first book series we asked about was, of course, the first chronologically: the Grisha Trilogy. The most popular ship, with 83% voters for this series selecting this, was Genya/David (Fritz was glad to hear that; Yes I am). This is likely due to the lack of alternate romantic interests in the series, which seems to be a major issue for Alina’s ships. It also seems to be one genuinely enjoyed by most fans, in contrast to Darkling/Alina and Mal/Alina (each around 30%) and Nikolai/Alina (just under 20%), for which I have definitely seen plenty of debate. The second and third most popular ships for this series were Tamar/Nadia (55%) and Nikolai/Zoya (47%). Interestingly, Genya/Alina (43%) and Zoya/Alina (30%) ranked surprisingly high, especially considering how few of my friends and associates I hear talking about them. Good for them!

Honourable mentions:

Alina/Sun (no doubt inspired by that crack fic I wrote a while back) (Still havent read that out of fear)

Alina alone (a common concept among those surveyed, though most mentioned it later)

Zoya/Genya or Alina/Zoya/Genya

Six Of Crows Duology

This series was a little less divided, I would say. Predictably, Kaz/Inej came out on top with a whopping 96% of voters (:relieved:), with Wylan/Jesper next (90%) and Nina/Matthias just after (83%). None of the others really came close, despite Nina/Inej gathering 35% of the votes and Colm/Aditi at 25% (yeah, I’m not sure why that was so popular on AO3 either, but nobody really has objections so I assume that’s why it amassed so many votes). As Six of Crows is decidedly less divisive about ships and doesn’t have such controversial ships (more on that later), it seems the fandom agrees with canon pairings and the votes are... pretty unanimous.

Honourable Mentions:

Jesper/Wylan/Kuwei

Polycrows (platonic or romantic)

Kaz/Inej/Nina

Whoever didn’t read the instruction about this being for only the book series and put Jesper/Milo. I will never escape.

The Nikolai Series

This one is a little harder for me because I actually haven’t read this... so over to Fritz for analysis! But first, the stats. At 85%, the most popular ship is Genya/David, followed by Zoya/Nikolai at 77%. Tamar/Nadia and Nina/Hanne draw at 61.5% and Nina/Matthias has 56% voters onboard. There’s no real honourable mentions for this one, sadly. Hello Fritz here! Read the books and very glad to see Genya/David as the top ship as it damn well should. Although still a bit surprising since its more of a side-arc of the two and only ties in with the importance of the story at a specific chapter that I feel like I don’t need to elaborate about, if you read Rule of Wolves. (I believe the popularity of the ship also sky-rocketed due to ROW) Following of course Zoya/Nikolai, the high ranking makes sense, it is the main ship and lets be honest they deserve it <3

I think the only really surprising thing about this is the high votes for Nina/Matthias since [SPOILERS CROOKED KINGDOM] he’s dead so I feel like people should move on from that. Nina/“Hanne” having not as high a ranking as I would’ve thought, but with Matthias still being in the frame I guess we shouldn’t be surprised either.

Shadow and Bone: TV Series

This one is really interesting, with the exclusive show watchers now taking part! We have 89% voting for Kaz/Inej, 76% for David/Genya, 71% for Matthias/Nina, 67% for Ivan/Fedyor (that’s a thing???-->Yeah they had a few somewhat sweet interactions in the background-->nvm i watched it you’re right fritz) and 62% for Mal/Alina. What’s really surprising is how high Malina is compared to Darklina, with Darkling/Alina at 36%. Who knows, maybe Fritz’ analysis can shed some light on this?

Yes yes Fritz to the rescue: First of all we have to see their interactions a little different from what we already knew of them by the end of episode 8. I still think it is a surprising number, since the Darkling in the show isn’t as nasty as he was in the books BUT over all his actions are now seen on TV. We all thought the deer antlers were a necklace amirite? Well no apparently not, the darkling used the worst kind of small science to fit Alinas collarbone to the bone and out comes a gruesome sight: a reason why many people might have started thinking: Wow what a disgusting person he is. And on the Malina “ship”: Mal finally has personality!! jkjk :eyes: Mals and Alinas friendship has been portrayed way better in the show and I believe that the people noticed more chemistry between them especially by the end of season 1. So I’m still a little surprised Darklina has such a low ranking (what with him being all sweet and cuddly in the middle of the show) but it makes sense and the Malina ship as well. Their vibes are just *chefs kiss* and thats coming from someone who didnt even like any of these “ships” <3

Loving the quotation marks for the word ‘ships’, Fritz. Over to the honourable mentions!

Honourable Mentions:

Jesper and Milo (isn’t milo a goat? guys, why?)

Nadia/Marie (huh that didn’t appear anywhere else)

One person had several - Kaz/Inej/Jesper, Dubrov/Mikhael, Dubrov/Mikhael/Mal - and yeah, you can really see the show differences in these mentions right? (whose dubrov...and whose mikhael...)

16% actually voted for Inej/Alina which is wild to me because of book context (they did have chemistry in the show tho :cowboi_smirk:)

Another person with several! We have Nina/Inej, Genya/Alina, Zoya/Alina, Zoya/Genya/Alina. Very sapphic. Good for you.

Kaz/Jesper and Nina/Inej all in one

That’s a lot of honour and mentions but it’s so interesting to me and I think you should see too

Most Enjoyed Ships

The most enjoyed ship was Kaz/Inej. This had unparalleled support, being at 35%. Jesper/Wylan, which was next on the list (23.5%) and Nina/Matthias (18%) were also pretty popular. Most of the others were quite low, though interestingly Mal/Alina only had 1 vote (plus one for the show version). Overall, the SoC ships were a lot more popular in this section, which makes sense - this part is really about your favourite ship, and those were more unanimous in the last sections.

Least Enjoyed Ships

Most people said Darkling/Alina, which got 47% of the NOTP votes. A lot more people disliked Darkling/Alina than liked Kaz/Inej. Make of that what you will, but I take it as a somewhat general agreement among many of you guys. Mal/Alina was also strongly disliked at 22%, but around a half or more of these were clarified to be about the book version of the ship specifically. They really must’ve upgraded in the show! Jesper/Kuwei and any other Darkling ships were also voted by a few, but all of these pale in comparison to the anti-Darklina votes. Shoutout to the person who said Apparat/Anyone. I agree, though it’s not something I thought of before seeing this response. Also one person said they didn’t like the poly ships, which I hope meant just the ones mentioned earlier and not all poly relationships in general... Another shoutout to whoever said Kaz/Heleen, because why did I have to read that. A fun question, all in all!

Crack Ships and Shipping Discourse

I love talking about crack ships, so let’s start with that! This time, I really don’t want to have to count and list because... well, let me show you:

I think that sums up the sheer variety, to be honest. Then again, it would be rude not to mention that the most popular were Jesper/Milo, Darkling/Nikolai and Alina/Sun. (If you’re still confused about that last one, I take full responsibility.)

YES KAZ/KRUGE I SUPPORT!!!

Honourable mention to this:

which was a lot to take in, and:

Now for the discourse. Yep, the part you probably came for.

Actually... maybe you didn’t? Looking at all of these responses, I see a lot of people genuinely don’t care about ship wars and so on, and often enjoyed the books regardless of the romances involved. Quite a few disapproved of the ongoing (though small) wars between Darklina and Malina, and others had a similar line of thinking, saying we should maybe stop focusing so much on it. You guys are right. I know this is a ship survey, and the conclusions should not include that shipping isn’t as important as we make it (Yes it should), but... that’s where it’s at.

And then again, a lot of you guys expressed disapproval for Darkling/Alina, discussing how it is often one-sided and manipulative and overall unhealthy, so I could be completely off with that last one. Some people mentioned that they ship this but as a slightly different version that the one given to us, recognising the flaws of the canon ship.

Someone said they headcanon Tolya as aroace (OMG YES!!). We need more aroace characters, so thank you for that headcanon :) We also have a few gay ships mentioned here, and one person telling us they love Malina. Yes, you’re right - it’s pretty unpopular, it turns out. Someone else said Alina should’ve been single, and I agree, actually!

One person rickrolled me here. Thankfully, Youtube’s ads saved me. *wipes forehead*

I leave you all with this, in the end:

Notes from the Survey

Statistics Stuff:

The top ships were taken from AO3, so some ships may be more focused on in other books and may not provide accurate statistics for an earlier series.

The main circles this was sent around may have had bias as most people are from the same discord server, which has debated these topics in the past. Hence certain ships may have lower-than-average results. In future, this could be improved upon by sending this to other servers and areas of the fandom.

Personal bias may be present in the analysis, though I have tried to minimise this in the more formal sections.

Observations and Notes from Me:

You guys really don’t like Darklina. Or you love it. Usually one or the other. Wow.

Be glad I didn’t talk about any of the cursed ships in this. The things I have seen... (:cowboi_eyes:)

I thought more people would rickroll me, ngl.

What Surprised You Guys:

Kaz/Inej/Jesper

A few of you guys saw some of those cursed ships, and that surprised you. Well, me too!

Nikolai ships being in the TV Show section at all, what with his character not being in the show (yeah what was up with that huh tztz)

Inej/Alina

The existence of The Severed Moon

Darkling/Nikolai(/Alina)

How fun the quiz was :D

Things You Sent Me:

Bee Movie copypasta

“Nobody expects The Spanish Inquisition!”, except via an AO3 link

A fun fact about enzymes! I liked this one

Fic recs for Feriku and Sarai (esp for Wylan/Jesper shippers)

Another rickroll

Nice compliments :) aww you guys

I asked everyone for some kind of placeholder name and never used it. Sorry! But hey, anonymity, right?

Closing Statements

If you got this far (I feel like ive been sitting here for hours), thanks for reading! This was fun to do and I hope you enjoyed all of this too! The survey is still open for anyone who hasn’t done it but wants to. If I get a huge amount of new responses, I might update this post! But for now, adios!

-mod emily (and mod fritz)

#grishaverse #fandom #shipping #shadow and bone #six of crows #nikolai series #king of scars #the grisha trilogy

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kakakakashi · 4 years

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Oh my fucking NSFW alphabet and me not asking for Kakashi 👀

I knew he was gonna be first. I knew it. This one is LOOOOOOOOOONG, and idk if they’ll all be this long, but I couldn’t help myself.

*NSFW under the cut*

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It depends on what you did. Kakashi is a wild card when it comes to the bedroom. He likes a lot of different things, and he likes it rough most of the time. The aftercare varies accordingly, but he always makes sure that you’re good before he falls asleep. Please, do the same for him if you’re rough with him. The man will claim you don’t need to coddle him, but he’ll melt if you take care of him.

B - Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

…….. Do you even have to ask me this question? The man has called your ass proof of some god’s existence at some point or another. He’s a fan of your legs too, especially in combination with your ass, but like… It’s the booty that gets this man going every time.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves a good facial. I just… I don’t know what to tell you. Like… it is what it is. You can’t convince me that it’s his favorite place to cum. Second favorite is inside you, but that’s another story.

D - Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don’t think Kakashi necessarily has a dirty secret that he’d never tell you. He definitely takes a while to open up about things, but like, once he’s open with you and you’re open with him, anything goes. I’ll expand on this later.

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Kakashi isn’t necessarily experienced regarding the number of partners he’s had. I know a lot of people think he’s a sex fiend, but I just can’t see it. I think with his mental state, his fear of vulnerability, and the self-loathing and overwhelming guilt he obviously deals with on a day to day basis, somewhere deep down in his subconscious, he doesn’t believe that he deserves to be loved in any way, shape, or formed. I feel like that’s part of why he reads Icha Icha too. Like, he wants that connection, but he believes he can never have it. That said, Icha Icha opened a lot of doors for him. I think that because of that, he does know what he’s doing. It’s how he discovered a lot of his kinks in my opinion. He’s had a few partners at certain points in his life, but not an obscene amount. However, he does know what he’s doing. The man’s done his research.

F - Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

I’m sorry. You expect him to pick one? It depends on a lot of things to him. I think he sees all the pros & cons of different positions in different situations and adjusts accordingly. I think he likes it best when you fuck him & have his legs over your shoulders, though. If he’s fucking you, though, he likes to take you from behind in front of a mirror.

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Again, I think it depends on what you’re doing. Mostly, he’s serious, but he knows how to crack a joke at the perfect moment to make everything all that much better. He’s 500% going to tease you, though. That’s another story. He’s a little shit, so he’ll joke around in that sense.

H - Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Okay, unpopular opinion here. I think Kakashi rocks a bush. I honestly do. If you wanted him to trim, he will, but I don’t think he’d go bare. This is mostly because he doesn’t have anyone to impress like ever, and nobody ever sees him naked like ever. Not to mention, he doesn’t necessarily have the time to keep up with grooming when he’s on missions and such, especially if he tried to go bare. Like, he doesn’t have the time or energy to deal with preventing ingrowns and taking care of the skin irritation. Therefore, I think he’s just to the point of “You know what? Fuck it.” The man doesn’t have time for that shit. He likes as minimal effort as possible. It’s actually really hot though, and it works for him somehow. The carpet does match the drapes as well. Down there is just slightly darker.

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Again, I think it just depends on the surrounding circumstances. Sex as a whole is already a really intimate experience for Kakashi. Even if it’s rough and dominant, it’s still intimate for him. When it comes to romance, it depends on the vibe between you at the moment. If he’s just come back from a mission where he’s so tired, but he missed you so much, and the both of you just want to hold each other, he’s the most romantic. However, if he’s calling you names while your cherry red ass is up in the air, it’s not necessarily romantic. However, if you’re pegging him and calling him a good boy or something in the “not necessarily romantic” category, there’s still an element of romance to it because you know that you care about each other, and that’s why you’re in the situation you’re in. You know Kakashi trusts you to make him feel good, and he knows you trust him in the same way. It’s a more of an unspoken connection where you care about each other’s pleasure as opposed to an empty rose petals and candles kind of thing.

J - Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He loves it when you make him touch himself for you. He loves to make you touch yourself for him too. Also, I have a kind of specific hc about this, and it goes with what I wrote here. So, after you and Kakashi open up about what you do and don’t like, you set up boundaries & agree to certain things & all that fun stuff. Now, if you discuss it & consent to it, even as just an rp situation or something, I can 500% see Kakashi doing something along the lines of this. When he catches you touching yourself or even just changing or naked or something. He might start jerking off while you have no idea he’s there. I feel like watching you would make him so hard, and he’d just fuckin blow if he could get away with it without you noticing. Omg, and if you punish him for being a pervert after, god, the man’s in love.

Omg, and if you heard him come in or something, but just let him fuck his hand while you put on a show for him until he’s about to come before you tell him you knew he was there the whole time, he’s gonna spill as soon as the words leave your mouth. Like, it’s just so hot to him.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I think it’s easier to list kinks he doesn’t have? Anyway, I’m just gonna do some of them. He likes pegging, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, praise, voyeurism, exhibitionism, spanking (both heavy and light), edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms, bondage, sensory deprivation, hair pulling, and many more. Lol.

He also has some more questionable kinks including his thing for feet that’s not quite the usual fetish, but like, if you suggested giving him a foot job, he wouldn’t say no. Not to mention, if you’re being dominant, he’s kind of into you calling him a bad dog while he’s tied up on the floor and humping your leg. Whoops. Did I say that out loud?

L - Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Tbh, Kakashi loves the risk involved with potentially getting caught. Idk why, but I just have this gut feeling. Like, it really just gets his rocks off somehow. So, he’d probably like anywhere semipublic. Like, in a bathroom or against a tree while you’re away from the campsite on a mission. He’s not going to shove his hand down your pants when people are around, but he likes there to be a slight element of risk. I think he’d prefer people to hear what you’re doing as opposed to potentially seeing anything if that makes sense. Although, other than that, I do think he’s partial to the bedroom because you guys can entertain more of your kinks in the privacy of home. I mean, you can’t really peg him while you’re on a mission. Ya know.

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Tbh, I think it depends. If you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, he’s stubborn, and he won’t give in. For example, if you’re on an important mission that has a lot of risks. Kakashi isn’t going to neglect his responsibilities for a quickie. If anything, I think he’d be kind of upset that you wouldn’t value the delicate nature of the situation. I also think that if anybody else tried to get him going other than his partner, it would be like talking to a brick wall. He has no patience or energy to even act like he entertains it. If it’s you, and you’re, say, at home and just existing together, the slightest thing can set him off. Just a glimpse of skin or even just a memory of you. If you wear his clothes, smile at him, or even just say his name in a specific way, he’ll be in the mood.

N - NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don’t think Kakashi would ever use any form of ninjutsu on you. Like, I think he would be too terrified to hurt you, and it would trigger a lot in him.

In my opinion, it also takes Kakashi a loooooong time to get comfortable with you. You have to know him for years as friends before you get together. It takes a while for things to move forward. It takes a while for you guys to have sex. He definitely won’t break out all of his kinks at once. He really needs you to be patient until he’s ready to bring them up. If you try to push him too far too fast, I don’t think he’d be okay with that. However, if you’ve been with Kakashi long enough for him to really trust you 100%, I don’t think anything is really off limits.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think we all know Kakashi’s good with his mouth. The man’s read enough smut to have countless tricks up his sleeve, and he undoubtedly pulls out all the stops to make you squirm. He’s going to find all your sensitive spots, and he’s going to abuse them until you’re so wound up you could scream. Then, he’s going to pull back just enough that you can’t get where you want and start the process over again.

However, while he loves giving, he fucking loves a good blow job. The man will be putty in your hands if you put your mouth on him. And if you let him fuck your face? Well, he’s definitely not lasting long. He loves making a mess of your face when he shoves his cock down your throat. It’s one of his favorite sights in the world.

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He can go either way depending on the mood, and I also think that he uses a combination of the two in order to drag out the pleasure as long as possible with you. He’ll start out so slow, but as things heat up, he’ll pick up the pace… only to slow down again and make you want to cry. He enjoys the same treatment very much as well.

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

You’re kidding, right? I don’t think Kakashi could ever say “no” to a quickie. The man loves them, especially if you might get caught.

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

The man will try anything once. He’s so game.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Okay, so I think Kakashi usually only goes for one or two rounds, but he lasts for a time that’s above average. Not to mention, it also depends on what you consider a “round” because he does tend to prefer to give you more orgasms than him. He just feels that it’s what he should do. He’s really a considerate partner in my opinion, and he will keep going somehow until you’re both satisfied, even if he has to take a quick break in between.

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

The man has oodles of delicious toys. He loves using them on himself and on you. He also loves when you use them on yourself and on him. Toys are something he regularly enjoys using in the bedroom with you. He thinks they just bring everything to a whole new level, and they provide lots of fun and entertainment.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You pull out a dictionary and look up the word tease? You’re gonna find a picture of Kakashi Hatake. The man’s merciless, and it makes him so fucking smug.

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

It depends on where you are and what you’re doing. He can be loud when it’s really good, but he only lets those noises out in the comfort of home. He knows how to control himself and muffle the sounds he can’t contain. However, sometimes, he can be quiet as a mouse, all labored breaths and grunts into your ear. Either way, it’s a sound that shakes you to your core.

W - Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Kakashi in lacy little panties… just… *chef’s kiss*

Also, I hc that Kakashi gets really pink & flushed while having sex. Like, it would be super cute if he wasn’t making you see stars tbh.

X - X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

I’m going to leave this art by @dianaii here. It’s exactly how I’ve always pictured that dumb dork. Also this art by @rrrotten because it’s a close second.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I think Kakashi’s got a weird combo here because he’s very athletic, so I think it would be above average. However, the man is depressed af, and his mental state is just a cocktail of mental issues, so I’d think it was below average. However, he reads Icha Icha all the time, so I think that would have an impact. The only thing is that Kakashi has literally said that his favorite part of the book is the plot, so what is the truth? Overall, I think he’s a really flexible partner who can really match whatever you bring to the table.

Z - ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

See aftercare. As soon as he’s sure you’re good, he’s gonna be napping. He’ll at least close his eyes and relax if his brain doesn’t quiet down enough for him to sleep, though.

#cherry's 300 follower celebration #naruto imagines #kakashi x reader #cherry has ideas sometimes #hi. i’m cherry queen of the sin bin.#Anonymous #cherry posts about ninja nerds #100

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herstrayskies · 4 years

Photo

Hi @lumiccu!! I was your Noragami Secret Santa! I was so excited to get matched up with you since I really adore your art and we always seem to promote and support each other on here and Insta!

Anyways, you mentioned that Ebisu and Nora were your favorite characters. So I kind of came up with this headcanon that teen Ebisu first met and named Nora in her fish-like form. I even wrote a short story to go with it. I hope you like it! Wishing you well and Happy Holidays!

Also thanks to @noragamisecretsantas for organizing this wonderful event.

Read the story below or on AO3.

Guilty Scales

“I’ve heard rumors of a God taming Ayakashi,” Father’s voice hummed over the crackling fire.

“Oh?” chimed Mizuchi. She scratched at a newly given name on her forearm, half hoping it would flake off like dried mud.

“It would be a shame not to learn his wisdom on the subject,” the floorboard creaked as he got up from his seat, his footsteps echoed around the empty room of the hut as he walked closer.

She stared into the fire wishing Yaboku were here to chime in on the subject. He’d get mad with each new name she was granted and he wouldn’t be afraid to say it. Mizuchi, however, was a good girl and did whatever her father told her. Including keeping her mouth shut while collecting names on her skin in order to spy upon the Heavens and Gods among them.

His hands rested gently on her shoulders, “Mizuchi, would you mind looking into Ebisu for me? I know he’s one of the seven, but if anyone can get into his threshold, it’s you.”

His praise warmed her heart like the fire that slowly warmed her frosted toes. She tilted her head up and looked at his loving smile glowing in the light of the flames. It was a smile she knew was genuine, unlike so many others she had seen before. Her hand dropped from her raw, exposed skin and placed it on top of his. “Of course, Father.”

“That’s my girl.”

__________________________

It didn’t take her long to track him down. Word of mouth was that he liked to fish in a certain spot where the mountains overlooked the water, where fish were aplenty and people were scarce. She did, however, find it odd that he was out in the dead of night when the stars shined brightly in the sky and the snow started to settle into the valley.

It was cold in the water, even in Mizuchi’s fish-like form. She could feel the cold seeping underneath her scales and deep into her lungs. She wished she were back in the warm hut with Father, the heat of the fire lapping against her frosted cheeks. She settled for the sting of the freezing water instead and sunk deeper into the abyss. She imagined Father’s proud and affirming praise after she came back with a granted name from the God of Wealth.

Bubbles floated up from a spurt of laughter at the thought as she watched said God pull fish after fish out of the water. He released them all into a bucket that rested beside him. With each new catch, he’d stare into the pail, smiling at his collection. He was like a little kid in wonder of all the creatures he had at the palm of his hand.

How silly it was. He was a God. He could have or do anything he wanted and here he was, fishing without a care in the world.

“You know, I might be really into my fish right now but I’ve noticed your presence since the moment you’ve arrived.”

For once Mizuchi was surprised to get spotted among the dark waters. Her level of stealth would usually startle even the bravest of Gods when she finally approached them from a cloak of darkness. How did he know she was there?

“It must be cold,” his gaze never left the pail, “ join me and tell me why you’re here.”

She swam closer to the ledge and spat out at his almost cocky attitude. “and why would I do that?” It was one thing that she was spotted before she could think of an approach but to expect her to do his bidding made her sick. She held back the urge to rise from the water and make him see what he was really up against. Not just some little girl but a powerful spirit ready to do whatever it took to get him to grant her a name.

He sighed and looked to the sky, “Why does a lonesome spirit feel the need to wade in a freezing current to spy on a waste of a God like me.”

She didn’t expect such a response from him. Not from Ebisu, the God that was prayed to and believed by so many. Weird, his following didn’t seem to match his confidence.

He readjusted his position so that he was facing forward, eye to eye. His head cocked to the side as if inspecting her. “Are you blighted? There’s some discoloration on your-” his hand tentatively reached out to touch her cheek.

The gesture startled her and in a defensive way, her body moved on its own. Her scaled tail surged out of the water before it slapped across the surface, causing waves and ripples to surge around her. She expected fear and horror in his expression but what she saw was nothing of the sorts.

His eyes twinkled with delight and wonder like the stars above him. His smile stretched across from ear to ear as he knelt closer to the disturbed surface. He was in awe of what he saw and dared to get a better look. “You’re not some regular ole’ spirit, are you?”

Mizuchi stared at him without a single word, her tail wading back and forth. She watched his eyes follow the movement of her tail before they flicked towards her name covered arm as she wiped a droplet from her lashes.

“Sorry if I stepped out of some boundaries. I only wanted to help.”

She stayed quiet, unsure of his motivations.

He extended his hands outward again and smiled. “I’m Ebisu, but you probably already knew that, or else you wouldn’t be here. Did you come to me looking for a name?"

"A name?” He’d grant a name to a stray without question? What kind of God was he?

“Yes, you must have heard that I take in strays too, correct? I’m very accepting of anyone as long as they can help my cause.”

Mizuchi scoffed at his words, “so let me guess, you’re one of those Gods? Using wandering strays for nothing but your own dirty work. Once we’ve done the job we’re needed for we’re tossed aside like some used object.” Why was she so angered when she knew more than half the Gods used her in this way. Words came out that she would never let escape the tip of her tongue before. She didn’t feel like biting it for once.

“Almost all of my men are strays and I treat them all the same as if they weren’t. Why should anyone treat them differently? Because you are called by another name by someone else? How barbaric,” he looked annoyed with her assumptions.

“Gods don’t like sharing property.”

Ebisu laughed, “Property! You aren’t property! You are people! People who have walked this earth and have lived a part of life. You are the spirits that didn’t want to give up and wanted to try again. This part of your life doesn’t need to involve technicalities like names and owners. So what if you have multiple names? Don’t humans walk through life being called something different by every other person they meet? Whether it be their true given name, nickname or a title. Daughter, son, sister, brother, mother, father, wife, husband, lover, friend. What’s one more? What’s to say the name I give you won’t be your favorite passing in this new life?”

Mizuchi felt the nagging guilt slowly drift off her given names, wading deep into the bed of rubble below her. They were words she had never had the pleasure of hearing before. Something that made her feel accepted and not just a dirty name to be whispered among the Gods.

For the first time she could remember, Mizuchi swallowed her pride. “What is your cause, Ebisu?”

His smile returned as he watched her stretch her hand towards him. He held onto it gently and said, “To bring peace to the world around us,” he paused to raise his other hand to start the naming enchantment, “like no one has before."

She almost didn’t hear his words over his bright, genuine smile and the glow of a name forming in the air.

__________________________

"What a good girl you are Mizuchi! I knew you could do it!” Father ruffled the top of her head and wrapped a warm blanket around her. The fire once again roared in front of her and she started to feel the tip of her nose again.

“Thank you, Father.” For some reason, his praise wasn’t as warm and joyous as she remembered. It was nowhere near as warm as his hand.

“And what did you learn about him so far?"

Mizuchi stared at the fire hoping the embers would help her withhold her secret for just one night. He’s a forgiving and accepting God. She held her tongue and brushed her fingertips across the name Tōki.

"Nothing yet, Father.”

#noragami #noragamisecretsanta2020 #secret santa #lumiccu #ebisu #nora #mizuchi #toki #father #trash dad #fan fiction #original art #herstrayskies #my art

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doyelikehaggis · 3 years

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Ginny Weasley and Landon Kirby!!

So this is nearly like a month late! And I am so sorry for that!! I got very distracted, wrote half of this, then left it for like two weeks, so you have my sincerest apologies! But I hope you enjoy this!! ❤️

Ginny Weasley:

• Headcanon for their sexuality — Oh, she has the biggest bi energy out here. She probably figured it out really casually as well, like, she realized she had a bit of a crush on Tonks and was like, "Oh.”

• Have they come out? If so, how — She came out to Bill first, because she remembers him telling her about the boy he fancied when he was in fourth year, and she trusts he’ll be kind, so she waits until he’s visiting and slips it into conversation when they’re alone in the garden. Then she casually tells Luna while they’re reading a book that mentions this queer witch from centuries ago. Then comes the rest of her family, little by little. When it came to the media finding out after the war had settled however, now, that was a far more dramatic and hilarious story; the rumours flew around faster than her supposed secret lovers from her team! She definitely played them up and let people speculate for months, finding the whole thing downright ridiculous but at least entertaining.

• How their friends/family took their coming out:

Bill is as supportive as she expected. He smiles this knowing smile and hugs her, then they’re back to de-gnoming. “I’m happy you trust me.”

Ron is the second sibling she tells, because even though he can be a bit dense, she listened to him gush for hours about Krum, Harry, and his favourite Chudley Cannons player. He stares for a minute like he doesn’t quite know what she means, then he’s making her promise not to date any of the Gryffindor girls in his year because “Dean was one thing, alright, but if you and Lavender—“

George blinked for one second of surprise when she casually mentioned that she was thinking of asking Katie on a date to Hogsmeade, and if he thought she’d say yes, then he shrugged and told her she has a good chance. When she caught his eye, he shot her a soft smile. “If any of my other teammates catch your eye, let me know and I’ll see if they’re interested.”

Arthur was so understanding and supportive that she cried. They were talking, and she couldn’t keep it in anymore, and she just told him. He nodded, shifted closer in his chair as she rambled a bit to try and explain what she meant. When she wouldn’t look at him, he gently took her hand, and she lifted her eyes to meet his and he was smiling. She just started crying and he hugged her until she calmed down. “Thank you for telling me. I’m happy that you’re being who you are, and I will always love you for that.”

Fred grinned like it’s the best thing he’s heard all year when she told him about her date with Katie. He congratulated her, hooking an arm around her shoulders, and proceeded to ask many questions — mostly about her date. “Mum’s gonna accuse the two of us trying to end our lineage.”

She gave Fred and George full permission to tell Percy, because she honestly wasn’t sure about doing it herself. They do it in some really obvious but attempting to be subtle way, when Ginny isn’t there. He doesn’t react then, but he comes to find her later in her room, and he sits down with her. He tells her that it doesn’t matter to him, and he’s sorry that she didn’t think she could tell him. She assures him she was just nervous and he understands. “I will always protect you. Even when you don’t need me.”

Charlie was delighted. She told him in a letter because she wasn’t sure when she’d see him but what he wrote back was nothing but love and support, and he actually came out to her at the same time, and promised to talk properly in person next time he visits. “If you need someone to talk to in the mean time, I’d recommend Tonks, she’s brilliant.”

Molly was the one she was most scared to tell. That’s why she waited so long before finally telling her while they were getting dinner ready. She stared at her back, waiting for her to respond while she dried a plate to set it on the table. When her mum turned to face her, she was wearing a small smile, and said, “Okay,” then handed her another plate and continued with the dishes. Ginny didn’t know what to make of it. Dinner was quiet. It wasn’t mentioned again, and Ginny decided that her mum tolerating her future relationships like she tolerates Bill’s marriage and Charlie’s lack of one was probably the best she was going to get.

As for her friends; she told Luna over a discussion about a queer witch from centuries ago, and Luna had smiled, chin in her hand, and said she was happy to have a friend who shared how she felt. Harry had sat in silence for a moment long enough for her to worry, then quietly asked, “If you’re allowed to feel like that in the wizarding world, does that mean... guys are allowed to feel that way about about other guys?” And she had indeed gone to Tonks once or twice, who was as delighted as Charlie, practically bouncing, and promised to be like a big sister if she needed her for anything.

• Do they go to pride? If so, with whom? — Ginny discovers that Pride is a thing through Tonks, who excitedly tells her everything about it at an Order meeting. She asks if Tonks will take her, which is the height of honour to her. Ginny casually mentions it to Fred and George in the passing, and they ask to tag-along. Bill trusts Tonks, but he still comes along. Just in case; those four out in the Muggle world is a recipe for disaster. She manages to convince Harry to join, too, so of course Ron’s there, and Luna was already planning to go with her dad anyway so they meet up.

• Do they show their colours? (Flag-wise) — After coming out to everyone she cares about, Ginny is happily confident in letting everyone else know. She wears the bi colours to Pride, and she got a few badges there courtesy of George that she has pinned somewhere on her outfits nearly all of the time around Hogwarts.

And now Landon Kirby!

• Headcanon for their sexuality — I just get very strong ace vibes? And possibly bi. It just makes Sense to me.

• Have they come out? If so, how — He told Rafael before anyone else. Just sorta blurted it out to him in their room after many, many days of overthinking how he’d say it. Telling Hope and Josie was then easier, as they were preparing one of their movie nights.

• How their friends/family took their coming out:

Rafael was the most supportive person in Landon’s life about everything, so this was no different. He picked up on Landon’s anxiety while telling him and approached his response with great comfort, assuring him that it changed nothing, he loves him unconditionally, and he would be right there by his side to stand up to anyone who said one word about it. His response actually made it easier for Landon to be more confident in accepting who he is.

Hope reacted in a similar way. She saw how nervous he was and told him that it didn’t make her feel any differently about him. He was a little more worried about telling her he was ace, but she smiled and hugged him, promised that they would never do anything he didn’t want to and she was okay with that.

Telling Josie didn’t feel as daunting; after all, he knew how open she was about her own sexuality, so easing it into a conversation made him less anxious about how she’d react. Sure enough, she gave him a soft, knowing smile behind the wide eyes, and they were joking about it within two minutes.

Lizzie was downright delighted. She claimed that she picked up on the “vibes” from him right from the beginning but couldn’t be sure, so she was just waiting to see if he ever said anything. He of course rolled his eyes at that, but he was grinning as she plunged into a seemingly endless well of questions — mostly about if they had the same taste in people, because they have Hope in common, so she wanted to see if it stretched to her two-week crush on Jed, or her infatuation with Sebastian. They got into a whole debate over Star Wars characters.

Kaleb honestly thought that Landon was already out, so that was more of a surprise to him. He swears hands-down that they had flirted a couple times, so he just assumed! It was a funny moment.

MG was bright smiles and literally just a ball of supportive sunshine. But actually, while talking about it, Landon kinda helped MG realize that he may not be too straight either. It was a nice, very insightful conversation that helped both of them.

Wade could not be happier. He had already come out to Landon a few months before during a D&D game— something that had given Landon a little push — and he’s so glad that Landon trusts him and sees him as someone important enough to share this part of him with. He, of course, also told him while they were playing D&D; he slipped it into his character’s story.

• Do they go to Pride? If so, with whom — Landon doesn’t really know what Pride actually is until he joins the Salvatore School, and after he comes out, Josie gives him a better idea. Mystic Falls hosts Pride every year (it’s a new tradition, really, but the town’s trying to pretend it’s always been so progressive), and so she invites him along. He’s unsure since crowds aren’t really his thing, but Lizzie is insistent (she admits she just wants to see if she can find the love of her life and maybe someone for him if he’s willing), and Hope says she’s going too, and after Wade, Kaleb, and MG invite him as well, it’s hard to say no.

He goes with them all and actually… it’s pretty cool. It’s the most colourful he’s ever seen the town, that’s for sure. And it’s fun!

• Do they show their colours? (Flag-wise) — He’s proud to be himself, obviously, but at the same time, he’s still more comfortable with keeping it quiet from anyone outside of his close friends, so he doesn’t tend to display either of his flags colours too often. He does make an exception for the second time he goes to Pride, though.

So, this was long. I don’t know whether to apologize for that for or not but again, I hope you enjoy some of these headcanons! I had the most fun with the reactions from the rest of the Weasley’s!

#halfthealphabet #ask away earthlings!#pride month 🏳️‍🌈#ginny weasley #landon kirby #harry potter #legacies #🌈 headcanons

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writerman · 4 years

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Psst. Write a hanahaki disease fic for Barduil where Thranduil has it. You gotta write it.

Hey, anon, remember when you requested this probably like a year ago? Yeah, me either...

Anyway, here is what you asked for. I wrote over 7000+ words in a day to finish this asap.

My thanks to @morticia-butler for all the help looking up Hanahaki disease headcanons and an iconic line I simply had to include.

This is a long one so some of it will be under a readmore BUT you can also read all my other Barduil prompts via this fancy schmancy LINK

On to the story!

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

8:30am. Thursday. September 17th. Just petals.

The mirror reflected a pale and haunted image back at him while bright and vibrant yellow petals dusted the front of his pyjama t-shirt.

Daffodils.

His favourite. Thranduil, however, had come to detest the sight of them. The sunshine yellow flowers openly mocking him, their bobbing heads in the breeze seen as a gaggle of them laughing almost jovially at his situation.

No point thinking on it in-depth, not when he could temporarily abate the problem.

With such a thought in mind, Thranduil brushed the petals from his shirt into the sink and watched as they swirled in the water a moment before vanishing down the drain into the darkness.

But there would be more.

There was always more.

A soft knock at the bathroom door stilled his hand as he reached for his toothbrush and he turned to see Tauriel watching him with concern.

“I didn’t know you were visiting today, what are you doing here?” Thranduil’s voice was soft as he spoke, though, the lilting sound of surprise cracked his voice for a moment. “Had I known you planned to visit I’d have been ready by now. What are-” Thranduil watched as Tauriel leaned toward him, her hand brushed the fabric of his t-shirt as she plucked a petal still clinging to the fibres.

“Dad, you said this had stopped!” The words rushed out and they were so loud as she held the petal up between them. While it hadn’t meant to come out so accusing, he could hear the dismay that coloured her words, it still felt harsh and Thranduil braced himself for a barrage of instructions to get himself to a doctor.

“It was quelled for some time. The doctor gave me special inhalers that slow the spread but I’ve not had the time to contact the surgery for a refill.” He gestured to an empty inhaler laying innocently on its side by the sink. They had helped immeasurably and the majority of his family had believed the disease was done and gone.

But Hanahaki was not that easy to be rid of, he knew and deep down his family knew that too. It was easier to think he had been cured than to do consider the alternative…

“I dropped by because I wanted to know if you felt like grabbing breakfast?” Tauriel turned from the bathroom door and wandered into her dad’s bedroom, his clothes were laid out already, she paced past the bed and back out into the hallway. “I’ll be downstairs, let’s go out still.”

There was no time to respond and so Thranduil internally agreed to breakfast with his daughter. She and Legolas were the same in that they were strongwilled, always happy to make a decision and happy to make it for someone else too.

They definitely had gotten that trait from him, even if he had mellowed somewhat with age. It was easy to recall his younger days with clarity, he walked tall never a curve to his back because he bowed to no one.

He had been so headstrong and confident, even after his wife had died. People had come to him speaking softly with sincere condolences but Thranduil cast the sorrowful glances aside and carried on working.

That felt like aeons ago now, Thranduil was more in touch with his emotional and mental health now, gave and took the time of others as freely as he should have when he was younger. Thranduil found value in the world where once he would have shunned it.

Turning to look in the mirror, that pale and haunted face stared back but the eyes seemed less empty than they had earlier. Even with his disease there was still hope within him, it was choked and stuttering by the roots of the flowers in his chest and lungs but it was there.

“I can’t give up, not yet.” He whispered to himself.

They ended up heading to Tauriel’s favourite place for breakfast, it was a small family-run restaurant and the food was good. The cheery wait staff did not match the highly polished wood and marble of the place but it felt strangely homely all the same.

It was while Thranduil perused the menu that Tauriel brought up the subject, or rather, the object of his disease to him. A public place so he would not make a scene, perhaps, or rather, she hadn’t thought of the setting and only wanted to relinquish her hold on the burning question she had within for months.

“So, will you at least tell me who it is that did this to you?” Badly worded. No one had passed the disease onto him, that wasn’t how it worked and he knew Tauriel understood that. “Come on, dad. Do they know what they’ve done to you?” Of course, she was angry but why was she being angry with someone innocent in all of it?

While the majority of the time Thranduil was able to ignore these unnecessary outbursts from his children, there were ofttimes when his frustration got the better of him and one of those times was now.

With hands loosely balled into fists resting on the tabletop, Thranduil pinned his daughter with an icy glare that quashed whatever words she had left inside to say on the matter.

“I have told you time and time again, I will not tell you who it is. You know damned well that they are not to blame in this. You’ve seen the diagnosis, even though I’ve asked you to stay out of it, you’ve seen the words ‘ self-inflicted’ on the documents.” He voice was low but the chill in his words caused Tauriel to sit back in her seat and avert her gaze from his.

“I’m sorry-” She stopped when the waitress came over and set down their coffee and a rack of toast. There was time enough between the waitress approaching and leaving for Tauriel to regain her composure. “I’ve read so much about this over the past few months, it might now be onesided that’s all.” She was right but the percentage was low.

Hanahaki disease was such an odd illness to contract, the phenomenon of flowers growing in a person’s chest and lungs due to unrequited or onesided love. The agitation of yearning and pining watered the blooms until the lungs were completely full and the chest cavity would split open with leaves and stems and petals spilling out and killing a person instantly if they hadn’t already died from suffocation.

But that was only intense cases. There were ways to slow the spread and Thranduil was taking measures to ensure he could do such a thing.

Regular therapy was one. His therapist was a wonderful woman who guided him through the process of coming to terms with his unrequited love. They spoke of how to be honest and open with the feelings he experienced and how to provide his own closure.

Though, they had many hurdles to jump. Thranduil didn’t believe in closure per se, to him revisiting something traumatic and uncomfortable merely reopened wounds. They’d spent many sessions focussing on the death of his wife and while it had helped immensely in allowing a belated grieving it ultimately had not helped with his predicament.

But he was not to call it a predicament his therapist had said. To remove the seriousness of the disease was to remove the value of his own life. There were many times she had asked him to look from the outside in and speak on the issues in his life as though they affected another person. It had helped and when things looked bleak or if Thranduil began to brush off the seriousness of his illness he would remind himself that he would not allow someone else to do that to themselves.

The next most drastic step was surgery, but it was a temporary step and it slowed the spread of the disease. Researchers in the medical field studying Hanahaki always implied heavily that the physical manifestations of the disease were caused by the brain and thus Hanahaki was registered as a mental illness.

It was why doctors pressed so hard for those that suffered to seek therapy.

“I won’t be involving the person in this what so ever, Tauriel. Please, I ask again that you drop the subject.” How he had pleaded like this before and how it emotionally exhausted him to see the fear in her eyes every time she visited.

It was all because he knew that one day she feared she’d find him lying dead, a bouquet of blood-stained flowers adorning his chest in a beautiful and grotesque display of the love that had plagued him.

“I understand that you’re scared but I promise you I have no given up. I have an appointment with my therapist this afternoon and with my surgeon to discuss a date for surgery.”

His words seemed enough to placate her for now and she instead busied herself with buttering some toast.

3:00pm Thursday. September 17th. Just petals.

“We spoke about your wife again last week, I noted that you requested we move on from the subject. Why do you feel you need to leave that subject alone?” The room was shaded from the bright Autumn sunshine streaming in from the window.

Thranduil could see the glowing gold around the edges of the blinds and forgot where he was for a moment as he watched it flicker with the shadow of trees swaying the breeze. He couldn’t remember why he’d suggested they move on but it seemed the right course of action to him.

“I just feel we aren’t focussing on the real problem.” When he spoke he made a point to look at her. Maintaining eye contact seemed important at that moment, he didn’t want her to think he was ruled by indecision. “My wife has been dead for years and we have already confirmed that, as much as I miss her, I have come to terms with her death and grieved appropriately.” Too business-like. As soon as the words had come out of his mouth he knew.

The therapist merely ‘hmm’d’ in response and wrote something down. There was the internal battle to struggle with now, to explain himself to her or let her assume something of him that he would, personally, deem incorrect.

“What is it you would like to speak about instead?”

That was the problem, he didn’t really know. The only thing he wanted to ask was ‘How did you get over someone and quickly?’ but there wasn’t really much of an answer she would be able to give.

Magazines for years had offered ‘helpful tips to get over that person that doesn’t like you back!’ and Thranduil had put no stock in their, so called, wisdom. Now they didn’t publish these things, now they would ask you to seek help if you experienced any symptoms they listed on the page.

Distraction techniques had been offered by his family in droves at the beginning when his diagnosis had been revealed. Nothing had actually helped because his mind would often wander to the object of his affection when he was practising a new hobby.

“I think my need to rush these sessions is just because I’m scared of losing myself completely and if I do that, well, you know what happens.” Thranduil gave a half-hearted shrug, he barely lifted his shoulders but it was a shrug all the same and his therapist acknowledged it as so with a nod.

“Everyone is scared of dying, Thranduil. Perfectly healthy people, people who have terminal diseases. Do you want to talk about your fear of dying?”

He didn’t.

They, instead, spoke of newer experimental ideas that Thranduil might have been interested in trying. She wrote out the prescription for the refill on his inhaler and made another appointment for a week later.

It wasn’t often that Thranduil left the sessions more tightly wound than he had been when going in but he at least knew that he’d need something to talk about next week or they’d get back on the subject of his wife and he honestly didn’t think that was helpful.

His next appointment was at the doctor's office, they wanted to schedule surgery but they had needed proof he was visiting his therapist before they would agree. It was a messy and an unfair condition but at least at the doctor's office he could get them to fill the prescription so it wasn’t too much of a wasted trip if they refused his surgery.

1:00pm Friday. September 18th Foliage.

The office was quiet now.

Everyone but Thranduil had packed up for the day and headed out to start their weekends. It was a perk Thranduil had implemented years ago and it had been appreciated, even if it had been created to benefit him more so than his employees at the time.

Nothing was waiting for him at home and there was plenty of paperwork to do so he poured himself a glass of water, took his inhaler and got comfortable at his desk reading through a brief for a new promotion.

So engrossed was he in his work that he failed to notice someone entering the office and only when a takeout coffee cup was set before him did he move his gaze from the files he had been reading to intently.

Looking up Thranduil ceased his movement almost instantly at the sight of his best friend Bard. The afternoon sunshine illuminated his handsome face with a soft golden glow, his brown eyes looked golden as he smiled down at him. His cheery countenance was always welcome and so was his gift of coffee but Thranduil could tell his friend was there with an agenda of sorts.

“Haven’t seen you lately, Thran. You’re not holding yourself up in this office every night until late again, are you?” The concern, it left a shaking and aching hole inside Thranduil and that hole soon became clogged with stems and leaves, give the disease an inch and, well, that old adage.

“No, I just had something to do here but it can wait. Did you need something?” To try and remain relaxed and carefree around Bard was increasingly difficult, more so when he had endeavoured to hide his disease from him as much as he could.

“Hm, well, I just had the feeling that you’ve been avoiding me for a while if I’m to be completely honest.” Straight to the point, no beating around the bush for Bard and he had every right to be concerned because he was correct.

Perhaps it was more obvious lately that he had been trying to avoid Bard for a few weeks. Avoidance was never going to be the answer but this man was why he had the disease, or rather, what exacerbated it. There would never be a time he would place sole or even partial blame on Bard for what he was going through.

“I’m sorry, I suppose I have been caught up in work recently. I’m absolutely not overworking myself before you ask. However, I’ve neglected my best friend and I think I owe you a drink, at least.”

“At least,” Bard repeated in agreement and he grinned, they didn’t move to get up.

Thranduil busied himself with taking a sip of his coffee, it was a blond roast from Michael’s he could tell without even looking at the logo on the side of the cup. All the while he inwardly cursed the tightness in his chest and new shoots began to sprout and buds began to burst into bloom.

There was no chance he could even begin to hazard a cough. It’d look like a cat had swallowed a canary. Or a man that had swallowed his feelings.

For a short while, they chatted idly about what they’d done recently. Bard talked of hating the empty nest syndrome he was suffering now that Tilda had moved out, leaving the family home nothing but a ‘mausoleum of family memories that were visited by a spectre that had helped create them’. It was a dramatic sentence and Thranduil laughed aloud before offering something vaguely sympathetic to soothe his friend.

“Can’t you clock out already, you own the business let’s get out while it’s still bright,” Bard complained as he rose from his seat and wandered toward the large window Thranduil sat with his back to. “The sun is still warm and we could probably walk to the pub instead of taking the car.”

“Walking to the pub suggests that you don’t wish to have a few drinks but one too many.” As much as he hoped he sounded wise, Thranduil knew Bard would have clearly taken it as a challenge. So they were absolutely going to get drunk that night and Thranduil couldn’t have been more terrified of that prospect.

“I haven’t seen you in ages, you’re my best friend and even if we both regret how bad we feel in the morning, age that does that to you, I want to get drunk with you, Thran!” Ah, old age hadn’t fully caught up with Bard yet, he was vibrant and energetic and hot. Gods above was that man gorgeous.

That was where it all began though, Bard had blazed into his life when they were in their early 30’s. Thranduil had just lost his wife and was trying to juggle a career and two grieving kids.

Bard and his wife Anya had helped him. They took the kids to school and picked them up and fed them so Thranduil could… do what? He couldn’t even remember now- he hadn’t grieved that was for sure!

With a 10 year and an 8-year-old broken over the loss of their mother and having no support from their emotionally unavailable father, Tauriel and Legolas had grown up to be quite well adjusted. Though, some of that might have been the therapy they’d gotten as suggested by their school.

It had happened only 2 years later, Bard lost Anya and he was thrown into a situation similar to Thranduil’s and the roles were reversed. Sigrid and Tauriel grew up like sisters and were still close because of how often they saw one another. They bonded strongly over what had happened to their mothers and became each other’s strength when they needed it.

The same happened with Bard and Thranduil, they became close friends. They took the children on holiday together, camping or water parks and spent their weekends finding activities for the kids that they too could take part in.

For a while, it had been just friendship, but then as the children grew up and wanted to spend less time with dad and more time with friends they found company in each other more often than not.

Then Tauriel and Legolas moved out for university, Sigrid and Bain left Bard for the same reason, Tilda was always adventuring with her friends and so when the empty house became too much they would go out.

Dinner, drinks, a walk in the park, catch a movie or two.

Innocent stuff, but Thranduil allowed himself to get comfortable and in letting his guard down he let feelings in that he had tried to avoid from the moment he met Bard.

The problem was when Anya died Bard told Thranduil he couldn’t ever see himself falling in love with another person again.

This was proven time and time again over the years, dates would happen once or not at all with people that could have been his perfect match, and eventually, Bard learned to ignore anyone that tried to flirt with him. A suggestive smile or even a compliment was brushed off as nothing more than friendly and the more unattainable he became the more Thranduil realised he was in love with him.

A terrible turn of events to be sure, and now he suffered daily for it with petals littering his pillows and flowers choking out his lungs.

“Are we going out then?” Bard’s voice cut through the memories Thranduil was replaying in his mind for the hundredth time and how thankful he was when he did. The blooming of the flowers in his chest increased with the thoughts of Bard.

To say no to the request would put a strain on their friendship. Bard had already noticed that he was being avoided and it would do them no good for Thranduil to continue that. So, with a nod, he got up from his seat and grabbed his jacket.

“It is a nice day, let’s walk to the pub then.” Intoxication was the last thing he needed but to keep up the charade that all was fine he’d need to at least try and play along. To play the role of a man in perfect health, body and mind, didn’t seem easy but he had to try.

He would try because he loved him.

10:45am Wednesday. September 30th. Bursting Blooms.

It was classed as routine surgery but Thranduil couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to slice someone open and remove flowers stamen to stem to root. Temporary as it was, he was thankful they had managed to organise it so quickly, his outing with Bard and the subsequent dinner the night after meant that his condition rapidly grew worse as time went by in the company of his best friend.

He’d woken to more petals on his pillow than he had ever seen before and his breathing laboured. Even coughing to free up space didn’t work and instead, he was gifted with near whole flower heads landing in his hands.

The kids were horrified as they watched this because of course, it would have happened while they visited. Which led to him having to listen to endless ‘You should go to the hospital right now.’ in a chorus from them both until he showed them the inhalers.

They sat either side of him in the waiting room now.

Legolas bounced his leg continuously looking around the waiting room for something to distract him. He’d taken time away from University to be there to help with recovery.

Tauriel chewed her nails and checked the time on her phone every couple of minutes as if time flowed differently in a hospital waiting room.

There was no cause for his anxiety to manifest when he was sat between two that were already doing all the work for him. Sadly, he had no words to calm them of their fears because he was just as afraid.

“Have people died from this surgery, dad?” Legolas piped up out of the blue, he sounded so young in that moment and Thranduil felt guilt course through his veins like ice for putting his children through something like this again.

When he didn’t answer Tauriel did for him and she shook her head even though Legolas was focussing more on a poster across the room than on anything else.

“No, because the surgery, while invasive to a degree, only removes some of the plants. They don’t fully remove everything because they simply can’t. Dad is going to be ok, more ok after this than he is now.” Her confidence only shaking by the tremor in her voice and Thranduil hoped Legolas couldn’t hear it.

“Hmm, ok.” Pensive now Legolas falls silent but his leg continuous to bounce but not as animatedly as before. He was not calmed but something in her words convinced him that the surgery would be fine.

Though, he didn’t understand why she would lie to him like that. His son was perfectly capable of looking up the survival rate on his phone, it was low just as low as the rate of people that were cured by expressing their feelings to their heart's desire.

They were approached by a nurse in scrubs.

“Mr Oropherion, if you would like to come this way.”

1:56pm Wednesday. September 30th. Roots.

Someone was gently squeezing his arm.

“Thranduil, you’ve just come out of surgery. Can you hear me?” The same nurse that took him in was now waking him. “We need you to respond to know you’re ok.”

Nothing felt real yet he managed to croak out something akin to an ‘I’m fine’ but that was it. The need for sleep and an excruciating pain rushed over him and he groaned hands gripping the sheets as he waited for it to subside.

“Out of 10, 10 being very painful and 1 being not painful at all how do you feel?” The nurse was holding a clipboard and a pen, they looked down at Thranduil with an expectant look and merely blinked blankly when Thranduil didn’t respond right away.

He needed more time than this to consider everything, on the one hand, he could breathe on the other the pain of being sliced open and stitched back together was awful.

“Ah… 8 maybe?” His whole body shook as he came out of the anaesthetic and all he wanted was to leave his body while it was in this state and return when he was at home comfortable in his own bed with a cup of tea.

His time in the recovery room was short and he was wheeled into a private room where he was greeted with the grim face of his best friend. Bard looked awful, pale and he seemed to have aged 10 years all with concern etched deep into his face.

“You were having important surgery and just elected not to tell me?” It was quiet, so quiet that Thranduil almost didn’t hear him speak. It wasn’t until they were fully alone after someone had administered strong painkillers, that Thranduil finally acknowledged what Bard had said to him.

“I didn’t need more people worrying about me than was necessary. I’m sorry, Bard. I should have told you but I didn’t want you to ask what the surgery was.” If he was honest, he still didn’t want Bard to know and if he asked him then and there he would outright refuse to tell him.

Even if keeping such secrets ended their friendship it would be safer then, the heartbreak of losing him as a friend was all the cure he needed and it would continue to protect Bard from the truth.

“If you had just told me that I could have been here for you from the beginning! Instead, I get a call from Tauriel asking me to come by and sit with Legs because she had to go grab something from home. I had no idea what she was talking about so you can probably expect a gushing apology from her later.” Bard dragged a hand through his dark hair, now laced with silver, as he started to pace.

It wasn’t fair.

Life wasn’t fair but this was kicking a man while he was down!

“I’m sorry, Thran. I didn’t mean to come in and just… yell at you. How are you feeling, are you ok?” Bard moved towards the bed and poured a glass of water out and handed it to Thran who took the offering gratefully and slowly sipped the cold water in trembling hands.

“Why can’t you tell me what the surgery was?” Bard pulled up the visitor chair so he was sad right by Thranduil’s bedside. For a moment he seemed indecisive in his actions until he, apparently, had a moment of clarity and took Thranduil’s hand in his. “Is it… cancer?” The words were uttered almost reverently as though he was afraid to speak the words any louder than a whisper.

Could he lie and say yes?

Oh, how disrespectful he would be to cancer survivors and those who had lost their battle. No, he could not lie and so he shook his head feeling more forlorn with each passing minute. The desperate need to wrench his hand from Bard’s was unbearable, the heat of the man’s hand seared into his skin and he couldn’t think straight wondering how it would be to hold his hand and know he loved him back.

Something inside him grew and already a new bloom began to sprout.

This was too dangerous.

Gods, he was dying and yet he still thought he had a chance with this man sat at his bedside holding his hand whispering words to him like a prayer.

Eventually, he knew he’d had to put an end to all of this.

How he wasn’t sure.

8:36pm Saturday. October 10th. Stems.

The children had just left, left with promises to be there again in the morning but Thranduil waved them away and told them it was not necessary to coddle him in such a way. The look on their faces told him he really had no say in the matter what so ever.

The surgery results were more temporary than he’d have liked, petals had started appearing again after a mere 10 days. With the inhalers they were few and far between but only 10 days of respite. His scars not yet healed from the procedure!

All in all, it seemed to have been a waste of time but at least he was still able to breathe with relative ease, though emotionally it seemed he was breathless. Legolas and Tauriel barely gave him a second alone and were hawks when it came to spotting petals.

At first, they’d been nigh hysterical but Thranduil had calmed them down and explained that these things happened and that he was still able to breathe well enough so there was nothing to worry about.

They hadn’t believed him. Not even for a second but they were distracted enough to come down from the height they’d been at in their worry.

The doorbell rang not even 5 minutes after the children had left and Thranduil assumed one of them must have left something behind, so when he opened the door to find Bard on the doorstep he was surprised but ushered him all the same.

“It’s late, what are you doing here?” Thranduil shivered and pulled the long misshapen and baldy knitted cardigan tightly around himself. It had been a gift from Tauriel, she had knitted it and then proceeded to never try knitting again yet Thranduil adored the huge thing that near drowned him. “Aren’t you coming inside?”

He noticed after a moment that Bard lingered a little too long at the door and seemed frozen by indecision. It wasn’t like him to be unsure of something so Thranduil prodded again.

“Are you coming in?” But Bard wasn’t looking at him, he was staring at the cardigan and feeling self-conscious Thranduil wrapped his arms around it trying to cover the large holes, but Bard kept staring until Thranduil actually become protective of the garment and snapped at him.

“What are you looking at?” Much like Tauriel had done before, Bard leaned forward and between his finger and thumb pulled a yellow petal away from Thranduil’s clothing, it seemed much brighter in the gloom of the autumn evening.

It seemed enough for Bard to piece together the truth and he looked dismayed, his shoulders dropped and his head dropped for a moment before he forced himself to look up at his friend.

“Is.. this why you had surgery?”

“Let’s not do this on the steps outside, come in and I promise I will answer all of your questions.” That seemed to put him in motion and with a short nod, Bard stepped into the warmth of the house and Thranduil shut the door.

“How long have you had this?”

Straight to the point, Thranduil had hoped he’d be given the chance to offer tea or something else before Bard started grilling him for answers. Honestly, though, he knew the question Bard wanted an answer to the most and Thranduil didn’t think he had it in him to tell him that, not yet at least.

“Hmm, a year now, maybe?” It had been so long since he had been without the cursed disease and he hadn’t exactly been counting, seeing it was more a count down to his death if he truly tried to rack up the days.

“Is there a cure, will you die from this?” The panic appeared from nowhere and Bard bit his lip as he tried to work out what he wanted to do next, he seemed to want to cross the room toward Thranduil and pace so to put a stop to either Thranduil made him sit down.

“I will make tea and answer those questions when I come back.” One of them had to remain calm, while he would have loved to have thrown away his composure and screamed to the Heavens that life wasn’t fair he didn’t think it would help his situation in the slightest.

When he returned with the tray Bard was stood again but this time by the fireplace looking at the family photos set out across the mantle. They were mostly of himself with the kids, one of is and Bard’s family all together on a camping trip and one of his wedding day.

“Hanahaki, huh?” He must have googled it while Thranduil was in the kitchen, that was fine but he probably knew more than Thranduil would have liked now. “So the surgery you had was to remove some of the flowers… ah, I can’t pretend like I’m not going to ask. Who is it that did this to you, Thran, who is the one that can’t or won’t love you back?” The tone seemed one of incredulity, as though Bard couldn’t quite believe there was anyone in the world who couldn’t love Thranduil.

But there was.

“Does it matter who and isn’t it better to see that I am trying to get better instead of giving up?” Deflect the question by asking a question, the only thing he could do as he poured tea and tried to stop his hands from trembling. “I am doing everything the doctors say I should.”

“Which is?”

“Haven’t you just checked the internet for all of this?”

“Well, yeah, but I want to hear you say it, that’s all.” The conversation was going nowhere because Bard clearly couldn’t stand not knowing who this person was that had captured Thranduil’s heart and refused to return it.

“I have therapy every week, I have inhalers to slow the spread of the blooms and recently I had surgery to remove the majority of the blockage but the roots are deep.” Such a drastic admission and so unfair to reveal his imminent death so casually.

Taking a sip of tea, Thranduil watched Bard’s face cycle through several emotions before settling on… nothing. Instead of responding Bard merely added some sugar to his tea before lifting it to his lips to drink.

“So, you were just planning on dying without telling me?” The words came out flat as though the conversation was casual yet boring. He had hurt his friend that much he was sure of but there wasn’t really much of anything he could say to soothe him now. Bard had been right, and what Thranduil had thought was caring and helpful turned out to be more selfish than anything else.

“No, I would never do that to you, Bard. I don’t want to keep these things from you but please see this from my perspective. This isn’t something I want to scream from the rooftops- ‘LOOK AT ME EVERYONE I AM DYING BECAUSE THE PERSON I LOVE DOESN’T LOVE ME BACK AND I AM NOT EMOTIONALLY STABLE ENOUGH TO ACCEPT THAT!’ why would I want to reveal my weakness to someone? If Legolas and Tauriel hadn’t found out I would not have told them either!” He didn’t like being weak like this, not after a life of being seen as an unshakable strength a rock that you could rely on. Everything was beginning to crumble why would he want to bare his soul now?

“Fine but don’t think I can just forgive you for hiding this from me. After everything we’ve been through together you just fail to tell me that, 1) you’re in love with someone, and 2) You’re dying because of it.” Bard set down his cup a little too hard and pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. “I… I have to go, Thran. I’m sorry.”

He was on his feet in seconds following Bard to the door but the man was already in his car by the time he got out onto the steps to call him back.

“You don’t understand…” Thranduil whispered as he tugged at the cardigan pulling it tight around him against the chill. “I didn’t tell you to save you from the guilt that I know you’d feel.” Of course, the words merely dissipated into the cold night air and the vapours trailing each word rose into the sky before vanishing completely.

At least the universe heard his admission of the truth.

4:00pm Friday, December 11th. Nothing but a memory.

They had given him a clean bill of health.

No roots, stems, stamens, petals, not even a leaf remained. The flowers had wilted and withered to nothing and Thranduil took an easy deep breath as he left the doctor’s office. It was a chilly December evening and he was adjusting his scarf when Legolas nearly bowled him over running into him his arms thrown around his neck in a tight embrace.

“I heard the news! You’re better now for good?!” The excitement in his son’s voice brought genuine tears to Thranduil’s eyes and he buried his face in Legolas’ golden hair for a long month savouring the warmth his son gave.

When they broke apart Tauriel was stood by her car, the engine still running. They must have just arrived as he was leaving. She gave him a cheery wave before climbing into the car to shut off the engine.

Thranduil hadn’t confessed his feelings to Bard and Bard had not confessed his to him. Instead, he had worked hard to understand that sometimes your feelings just were not reciprocated and that was ok.

Platonic love was just as good as romantic love, sadly, he hadn’t been able to speak to Bard since he’d walked out on him all those weeks ago. While he would always love Bard he understood that what he had done was hurtful and if he’d been given the chance he wished he could apologise.

It had never been his intention to hurt his best friend but he had been so caught up in his own pain he had forgotten to consider those nearest and dearest to him. How had it been fair to hide such a horrible problem from those he held dear?

“Have you heard from… him?” Tauriel knew everything now, she’d gotten it out of him not long ago, he was at his lowest and needed someone who might understand. It was not his proudest moment, leaning on his daughter emotionally for support, but she had been steadfast in her support of him that it seemed so easy to tell her everything.

Thankfully, Tauriel didn’t hold the reaction Bard had against him.

“I had been angry just like him too, remember?”

Oh, she had, she had screamed murder in his home, right in the centre of the living room, when she had realised and didn’t speak to Thranduil for days. It was the longest she had ever gone without talking to him before, a whole 6 days until she came around and they talked about what it meant for the family.

But now they were fine, life could resume. Thranduil could live with seeing them without the soft concerned glances Tauriel and Legolas would exchange when his chest grew tight and he wheezed as he tried to grasp a full breath.

If only he could repair his relationship with Bard. There weren’t many he shared his life with and losing someone was extremely noticeable when that someone was fully apart of his daily life.

Even visiting his usual haunts proved useless. There didn’t seem to be a trace of him anywhere and Thranduil was much too much of a coward to walk right up to his door and demand to be let in.

Yet, none of his calls were returned or his texts answered. When Tauriel asked Sigrid if her dad was ok she just shrugged and said he wasn’t doing anything unusual of late, but he had been grabbing a drink with workmates more often.

That wasn’t a cause for concern as Bard had always been the friendly and sociable type.

Whatever was going through his friend's mind he sincerely hoped he would take the time to consider contacting him so they could talk. There were only so many text messages he could send without looking incredibly desperate.

5:30am Tuesday, December 24th. Easy breathing.

A shrieking doorbell and the sound of continuous banging on the door jolted Thranduil awake and he swore loudly as he tumbled out of bed and shuffled wearily down the stairs. Whoever it was had better have a fantastic reason as to why they had to get him up at stupid o'clock in the morning!!

When he pulled the door open to see a rather dishevelled Bard using the door frame to hold himself up the air in Thranduil’s lungs seemed to vanish. He stood motionless for a good 30 seconds before helping Bard inside.

“You absolutely reek of alcohol. What are you doing here?”

There was silence proceeding his question and, at first, Thranduil thought the man had fallen asleep on the sofa where he had collapsed but it appeared he was just thinking of the best response.

“I had to see you.” Surprisingly he didn’t sound drunk and Thranduil considered that the cold must have sobered him up. For his own mental health, he decided against asking him what he meant about having to see him.

“I don’t know about you but the larks aren’t even up yet and I am tired. Let me make some coffee for the both of us and we can see if I can’t get some sense out of you.” As he turned to move Bard’s hand shot out and his fingers curled around Thranduil’s wrist tugging him backwards with ease.

“No, let me speak to you, hasn’t it been long enough already?” A sleep-deprived gravelled tone did not suit Bard and Thranduil could see dark circles around his eyes. Whatever had been on Bard’s mind of late must have had him up around the clock.

“You were the one that decided you’d had enough of me, remember?”

Those words caused the man before him to relinquish his grip on Thranduil’s wrist and he just gave a nod but when Thranduil didn’t move he took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I’m sorry that I made it about me. There wasn’t even a second where I considered how scared you must have been to know that any day could have been your last.”

“Yes, well, thankfully those days are behind me now.”

Like a shock of electricity had gone through him Bard jumped to his feet looking this way and that before having the decency to look genuinely apologetic.

“Did I interrupt your sleep with them?” In the light of the living room, Thranduil got a better look at him and something inside him clicked into place and he had to withhold a groan when he realised he had definitely, once again, fallen in love with his best friend.

“There is no one, the person I was in love with, I’m not in love with them now. It took a long time to come to terms with the fact they did not care for me the way I wanted but I am better because I started to love me more.” Oh, what a liar he was. Yes, he did care for himself a lot more but he was falling right back into the rut he had been not 8 weeks ago.

The second he started spitting petals he was going to wring Bard’s neck. There was no way he was going through all that again!

“There’s no one, ah, good. That means I have a sliver of a chance to ask you out on a date then.”

No, no he wasn’t doing any of this without coffee. As much as he wanted to address every single word the man had just uttered he wasn’t doing this without caffeine and maybe some toast.

Without a word he walked off into the kitchen and, like a lost puppy, Bard obediently trotted in behind him trying to get his attention. No, no, no, he was going to fill the machine with coffee beans and put bread in the toaster then he was going to get the toaster and throw it at Bard’s head!

Whipping round to face him, Thranduil grabs a fistful of Bard’s shirt and pulls him close enough that they are nearly nose to nose.

“You’re telling me that you have developed feelings for me in the past 3 months I have been in recovery?”

Fear was the only emotion in Bard’s eyes and they were wide to the point the whites almost exceeded the iris. It would have been funny if Thranduil hadn’t wanted to throttle the man where he stood.

“Well, I wanted to tell you I loved you as soon as you opened the door but you’re so scary when you’ve just woken up. You’re scary now, please don’t kill me. I love you!”

That was it.

“You LOVE me? Is that so Mr I Will Never Love Again? IS that so?!” There was a mixed bag of emotions stirring up inside him but mostly the murderous intent was winning out. Killing Bard wasn’t really on the cards but he wasn’t going to let the man get away with nearly killing him for over a year even if he had no idea it was his fault.

“You are very, very, very lucky that I just so happen to love you, too.” The iron grip on Bard’s shirt relaxed and he tried his best to smooth the deep wrinkles but it was not to be. Regardless, he had Bard looking at him with a sappy grin plastered over his pale face like he’d been told he’d won the lottery and not the affections of a highly problematic male.

“R-really?”

“As much as it now pains me to say this, yes, I do love you so very much. So much so that my heart could burst if I tried to contain it any longer.” The thumping of his heart was so hard in his chest that he was sure Bard could have heard it if he’d tried. Somehow things were falling into place now with such little effort.

There had been a chance Thranduil would have found himself bitter about the whole thing and shunned Bard’s advances. Revenge should have been high on his list with the grinning idiot before him but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than lean in and press a kiss to his Bard’s lips.

“Really, really.”

#Barduil #Bard the Bowman #Thranduil #Hanahaki disease #The Hobbit #AU #Anonymous

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drdumaurier · 6 years

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What’s your stance on Bedelia’s mental health and how do you explain some of the morally ambiguous things she did? How did you settle on the way you want to interpret and express her mental state? I’ve seen her being interpreted as a psychopath, do you support this diagnosis, and if not, why so? Do you find it challenging writing a character with such a complex emotional inner life? P.S., I love your blog. :)

Quick note before you start reading: This is the longest headcanon I’ve ever written and I’m sorry it became so long, but it’s the result of putting a lot of headcanons and thoughts together. As my wife so perfectly put it when she read it and saw that I mentioned I could probably go on “oh God no you would crash tumblr's word limit”. Also I say it a few times in the text, but this is only from my personal interpretation of her character. Now if you’re up for the challenge, have fun reading it!

First, I’d like to say that everyone sees Bedelia differently and it’s not a question to debate. I know from where you come from with your question, so what I’m going to say is that my interpretation is how I see her and everyone is free to see her the way they want. Furthermore, I’m not a therapist and while I’ve been doing quite extensive research in psychiatry for my own interest, I’m not making any diagnosis because it’s not my place. Everything that will be expressed in this answer is from personal research and personal opinions, so it’s not “the truth”. Now, in my interpretation, Bedelia is not a psychopath and for numerous reasons. I’m not going to make a full list of all my arguments because it would become too long. First of all, it’s difficult to define psychopathy as it doesn’t express itself exactly the same way depending from one individual to another. Also in the International Classification of Diseases (ICD) maintained by the World Health Organisation, psychopathic personality disorder is included in the antisocial personality disorder as well as: amoral personality disorder, asocial personality disorder, dissocial personality disorder, and sociopathic personality disorder. So there is no clear definition, but from the “list of common symptoms” I found, only few apply or only partially. To take some examples with how I see them applying or not to Bedelia:

Extensive callous and manipulative self-serving behaviours with no regard for others: No. While she has a tendency to manipulate people to get out of situations, it’s self-preservation and it’s not callous. There’s a difference between manipulating people to achieve higher goals and only self-preservation. It could be debatable when she was a teenager and dated older guys who could buy her alcohol, but there were real feelings involved.

Pathological lying: She mentioned that she told “half-truths” and once again only to protect herself. She isn’t a pathological liar, but she does lie sometimes to protect herself.

Little reaction to fear: It’s more than obvious than she feels fears and shows it. It has been observed that psychopath don’t show much reaction to fear which isn’t the case with her as seen multiple times through the series.

Impairments in processes related to affect and cognition: There are two types of empathies, cognitive and affective. The first one is the ability to recognise emotions in the other by observing them which is the one psychopaths usually have. They’re able to see that someone is afraid or happy, but nearly in a scientific way. It’s what they can use to manipulate people. In Bedelia’s case, she feels both. Her empathy isn’t only based on observing people. Yes, she does it quite a lot because of her work as some people hides a lot and analysing facial expressions, for example, helps, but she’s able to feel empathy even if she’s not very empathetic. Like in real life, some people have just less empathy than others, it doesn’t make them psychopath. Also some people feel empathy towards people they know/are close to (like Bedelia), but less when it’s strangers. Her empathy and compassion is simply selective like some people.

Objectisation of the other: No. She truly cares about some people and she will never consider them as objects she can use. There are cases in which she feels that it’s her only way to protect herself, but she doesn’t use them as objects. Also if she cares about someone, she will never do it. To take Dimmond’s example, she told him to go to the police (deleted scene, but from the script “Unless you believe you are beyond harm, go to the police.”

Unwillingness to accept responsibility for actions: She knows what she did and she takes responsibility. In Tome-Wan, once she’s certain to be safe from prosecution, she says “I killed him” talking about her patient. She knows what she did and takes responsibility.

Tendency to boredom and need for stimulation: It is true that she went to Europe with Hannibal, but her life before tended to be calm without too much simulation. She retired and other than him, not much was happening. She doesn’t seek constant simulation even if she’s still active in the psychiatric field.

Impulsivity and irresponsibility: She’s always careful with the situation she’s in. Yes, she can be reckless, but only to a certain point and she most of the time planned a way out as seen in Florence. She doesn’t simply run into danger without thinking about it. One time she made an impulsive decision was when she tried to run away in Florence, but that was a reaction caused by fear. She felt threatened and tried to flee like a lot of people do when facing danger.

In conclusion, no I don’t see my interpretation of her as a psychopath for those reasons and more. If you want to know more about psychopaths and understand French, this video from two therapists is extremely interesting (English subtitles might come soon).

Now to how I see her mental health and the morally ambiguous things she did. In …And the Woman Clothed in Sun, we learn about her patient’s death, but also that she has a primal rejection of weakness before she adds that it’s as natural as the nurturing instinct. It’s that instinct that took over when Neil was shocking on his tongue. In the script we have a part about her looking at him in disgust and then that it was a mercy killing. While it is debatable it was mercy, she still killed a patient, she still has that instinct that Hannibal knew about and he used it to see how she would react (given that it’s obvious with the light therapy that Neil was used in that goal). Not everyone has a strong nurturing instinct, in Bedelia’s case, it’s not her main instinct. It’s natural, if you hit an animal on the road, there will usually always be one person who’ll want to save it and another who’ll want to end its suffering. For her and with the backstory, the reason she has a rejection of weakness comes from both nature and nurture. As I wrote in other posts, Bedelia grew up with a lot of expectations from her parents because she was a good student and generally working hard to reach her goals. Very early on, she developed a fear of failure which combined with an already existing rejection of weakness made her as she is today. I’d like to say that as a child, she wasn’t already thinking about crushing wounded birds as she mentioned to Will, but she would stay away from people that she knew would bring her down. She made choices mostly based on what was best for her, it was both selfish and due to her fear of disappointing her parents, but there has always been one exception and that is people she cares about/love. Of course when she was young, she wasn’t the kind of child to not help at all if she didn’t care about the other child, but she still put her close friends first. During her time in high school and university, she has a period during which she would find ways to relax and be self-destructive because of that fear of failing and only worsened the whole thing. To come back to present days Bedelia, she still has that fear, it’s anchored in her her chore, and her rejection of weakness also comes from the fact that if she could go through things, then other should too, but she fights against that first instinct to still be able to help her patients and as per usual, the exception is people she cares about/loves. The only times she “lost” the fight against her rejection of weakness was when she killed a patient about to die anyway (her first mercy killing), when Neil swallowed his tongue, and also when Sogliato had the ice pick in his head and she removed it (he was dying, she simply made it happen faster). Also it’s important to not that she rejects her own weaknesses and hates to be vulnerable/seen as vulnerable because she has always had to be perfect as her mind has kept repeating her since she was perhaps 6-7 years old. So she has a rejection of weakness that is pretty strong, but it doesn’t reach the point where she would simply believe everyone under her is pitiful and needs to be crushed, simply that when things reach a certain point, she will reject them. Her first patient was about to die anyway, she just decided to end their suffering faster. Her second patient swallowed his tongue and bit it so hard that it wasn’t attached anymore and he was dying most of the time (he was killed the moment he could breathe again, but who knows in which state he would have been). Furthermore, his behaviour was pretty threatening, so fear is to be included in the mix, and also it’s obvious at the end that she realises what she has done and how awful she feels. From the script: “Bedelia, breathless with horror and adrenaline, turns slowly to see Hannibal lurking behind her.” She knows what she has done and she’s horrified by it. Hannibal knows that it wasn’t only self-defence, but it doesn’t make her a cold-blooded killer.

About her selfishness and level of empathy, Bedelia will put her own safety first. It doesn’t mean that she’ll throw someone under the bus to make her look better, what it means is that in situations in which her life is on the line, she’ll save her own skin (with the same exception as stated before). Also in the series, we’re shown a character with an extremely high level of empathy (Will), so compared to him, hers seem very low, but also she’s not shown in situation with other people much. Even in season 3. The interactions she has are mostly with Hannibal, Will, and a bit Neil. It’s hard to judge exactly how empathetic and selfish she is in normal situations given that none of what happened is “normal”. My view on her is that yes, she is selfish, but mostly for self-preservation, and yes, she may have a lower level of empathy than some of the characters in the series, but what happened to her explains it (from the backstory I have for her included the part with her ex-fiancé), also so would I and I don’t think I particularly lack of empathy. In my portrayal, nurture played a big part in why she acts this way.

Another important part of how I see her is the fact that she doesn’t show emotions. Bedelia hates not being in control of the situation (I’ll come back to that later) which means she needs to be in control of her emotions and it’s also related to what I wrote previously when I said that she refuses to show vulnerability, so mostly “bad” emotions. It is shown multiple times through the series that during extreme situation, her emotionless façade cracks, but most of the time, she simply keeps her emotions for herself by bottling them up. In season 1, we mostly see Bedelia in session with Hannibal and her facial expressions change depending on what happens, but it’s never obvious and when a sore subject (the patient who “attacked” her, both with Hannibal and Jack) is mentioned, she pretends that everything is perfectly alright. This is something she learned to do very young, her need to be perfect also made her start hiding negative emotions, but also extreme positive emotion. As the proper daughter of the Du Maurier, Bedelia kept being polite and avoided to show excitement for example as it was not what was expected from her. For the negative emotions (sadness or anger for example), it was because it made her vulnerable and, again, not perfect. In season 2 and 3, that’s when we see more emotions coming from her, but the negative ones are visible only under extreme situation and she struggles to maintain her composure. It’s a way to protect herself: don’t let people see your emotions and they won’t be able to use them against you. It was used against her by her ex-fiancé. It’s the same reason that prevents her from seeking help and instead cope with her issues herself (in bad ways, but at least it’s her own doing). It takes her a lot to open up about things and to feel comfortable showing more emotions. If she shows someone when she’s vulnerable, then she’s truly trusting that person. In her mind, bottling up her emotions and feelings is the way to go to protect herself and go through life. It is a bad idea, she tells her patients to not do that, but after all, doctors make the worst patients.

In relation to that, let’s talk about her anger quickly. Bedelia doesn’t show anger easily, she stays cold and composed to a certain point, then there is the part where she will raise her voice (as seen with Will), but if she’s extremely angry, then she will become cold again but in a destructive way. If someone pushes her too far, she will be colder than the zero absolute and she will attack where it hurts as a defence mechanism. There is no enjoyment in hurting the other when she’s angry, but she will do it as she feels like a trapped animal who will attack to defend itself. If she’s yelling and suddenly becoming cold again, it’s a bad sign and it’s going to be violent mentally. It’s important to know that afterwards, if she was like that towards someone she loves/cares about, she will feel awfully bad and guilty for having hurt them.

Now I’ll put two things together: her constant need of control and her self-destruction. It seems to not make sense to put them together, but there’s actually a strong link between the two. For her, when she’s in control of the situation, it means she’s safer. Giving up control for another to have it is something that terrifies her and if she does it, she trusts the other person pretty much with her life. Throughout her life, there has been moments during which she had little to no control over the course of events and it doesn’t bring back good memories. Even if it was something she did before, it was the attack of one of her patients that truly made her realise how vulnerable she is when she’s not in control. That attack also partially explains why she reacted violently towards Neil as he was threatening her. Being in control of the situation means being able to flee if needed, stay safe from harm, and not be taken by surprise.

The reason I linked it with her self-destruction is because it’s something she controls. There is no doubt that Bedelia has self-destructive tendencies by both drinking heavily and being in dangerous situation, but she is alright with it as long as it’s her choice and she’s in control. If some harm is forced onto her, she will fight to save her skin, that’s her self-preservation reaction. However, when it’s chosen, like her heavy drinking and substance abuse, she won’t fight it because it’s her own choice to destroy herself in such ways. The same goes with dying, she needs to have control over the way she dies. If she’s killed by someone and it isn’t her choice, then she will prevent it. If she’s dying because of some bad mix between alcohol and meds, then she’ll let it happen because it was her decision that caused it. Her need to be in control goes as far as her needing to decide how she’s hurt and in that case, she accepts it only if it’s caused by herself/her own decision.

Also I can add her trust issues to the mix. Bedelia doesn’t trust easily at all and breaking it means that there is no way to gain it back. Due to bad experiences with people (see the links to headcanons above), she keeps her distance with everyone, making it extremely hard for them to show her that they’re trustworthy and, even if they do succeed, there will still be a time during which she will have her doubts about it. It’s linked to her need to be in control because trusting someone and opening herself up to them means giving them power over her which is something huge for her. When she trusts someone, she trusts them with her life. So rare are the ones she trusts and rarer are the selected few who know about the truth of some events of her past. She’s protecting herself, but it also means that she’s letting her emotions devour her from inside because she doesn’t share. This headcanon talks more about her trust issues and also how she loves.

Concerning the mental health issues she has, they’re more or less present depending on which period of her life it is and I’ll explain how and why. They’re mostly taken from that post:

Alcoholism and substance abuse: Bedelia has struggled with alcohol abuse since she was a teenager as for substance abuse, she tried things during university and later she started self-medicating.

Anxiety: While she hides it extremely well, Bedelia has an anxiety disorder that can sometimes interfere with what she’s currently doing. She self-medicates to avoid it.

Cynicism: Even if she’ll never be obvious about it, it’s something that has an influence on her decisions.

Defensiveness: Due to her fear of failing and not being good enough, she will be defensive against some comments even if once again, it’s not the most obvious.

Depersonalisation: It tends to happen during emotionally intense moment.

Depression: It depends on the period of her life as it’s not something constant, but the most obvious time it happened was after her miscarriage.

Derealisation: Same as for depersonalisation.

Dissociation: See above.

Emotional detachment: See above.

Flashbacks: Due to the traumatic events that took place in her life, she has recurrent memories that come back in the form of flashbacks.

Flat affect: It isn’t something that always happens, but it can occur when she’s struggling with emotions and becomes emotionless.

Guilt: This occurred particularly after the deaths of her patients, her attack, her miscarriage, and later with Hannibal. It’s also linked to the fact that she’s terrified of failing and feels that she wasn’t good enough.

Hyper-vigilance: Especially during and after Europe, Bedelia will react to any little sound of movement that isn’t “normal.” It prevents her from relaxing and resting properly.

Insomnia: Linked to the answer above, but she has always struggled with insomnia. She doesn’t sleep much in general, but there are periods during which it becomes all too obvious she has insomnia even if she found ways to hide it and be functional with little to no sleep at night.

Intellectualisation: A way she has to cope with situations and avoid facing her feelings.

Isolation: It is seen throughout the series, but also in headcanons I wrote that she keeps herself away from the world, especially after Neil’s death as she barely leaves her house (I think it was supposed to be in the series at the very beginning, but I cannot find articles about it, possibly because it has been five years).

Night terrors and nightmares: Both because of traumatic events, it’s also one of the reasons Bedelia doesn’t sleep as she’s terrified of having any of them and then struggle with the consequences. It’s especially true when she sleeps with someone (rare, but it happens) because she doesn’t want them to witness her having nightmares or night terrors, so it isn’t rare at first that she won’t sleep or only barely to avoid it.

Panic attacks: Linked to her anxiety disorder and her PTSD. If she has one, she’ll withdraw somewhere she can be alone to not let anyone witness it.

Passive aggression: This is how she tends to react when attacked or when she reaches her limits. She is more one to become cold and passive aggressive when angry than to yell.

Phobias: Other than her fear of failure and to not be good enough, Bedelia avoid huge crowd and loud noises. Given that she sometimes doesn’t exactly have a choice, she will find a way to navigate in crowds by either numbing herself or if she has someone close with her, to stay physically close to that person. For loud noises, if they are planned (fireworks), she will prepare herself, otherwise she will jump and often panic.

Rationalisation: This is how she explained the death of her first patient and then of Neil’s to cope with them, a way to accept what she did, but in the end those events still haunt her and she struggles with the memories.

Risky sex: While quite rare, she still sometimes uses sex as a mean of self-destruction. It happens that she makes a conscious choice of choosing partners she knows are not good for her and then has to deal with the consequences which worsen her general state.

Suicidal idealisation: It depends on the period of her life, but there were moments during which Bedelia contemplated the idea without never fully doing it. However, her constant self-destruction is leading towards it.

Suppression: She keeps everything in as mentioned earlier, but of course it doesn’t work properly and emotions will eventually come back when she lets her guard down.

Thousand yard stare: Caused by the traumas she went through and by seeing horrifying things. It’s the most obvious when she’s completely dissociating.

Triggers: Bedelia has become quite good at avoiding them over the years, but there will always be things that will trigger flashbacks or reactions and given her reluctance to seek help, it stays an issue she struggles to cope with.

Trust issues: As mentioned earlier, Bedelia has a hard time trusting people, but also when she trusts, she fully trusts the person.

Now a big part of how I see her is that she has PTSD. I keep it for the end because I wanted to comment the list first as it contains a lot of things related to it. The first even that was enough to cause it was the attack of her patient during her residency. It was something traumatising and that left her scarred both mentally and physically (the scar is still visible on her neck many years later). Then she ended the life of a patient who was already dying, her first mercy killing. While it was a choice, it wasn’t nothing. Someone died because she decided so. Later, her miscarriage and failed engagement also added to it as it became more and more clear that her ex-fiancé acted awfully towards her. At that point in her life, Bedelia has already gone through many things and her symptoms are present, but she hides them and while she sees a therapist (as therapists have to do), she obviously doesn’t share everything. Fast forward to Neil’s death which awoke her past traumas again after she had more or less successfully silenced them and bottled them up. The symptoms are pretty tame, at least until she comes back from Europe, and then it’s even worse after the loss of her leg. Those are the two times during which she struggles the most with her PTSD, but she handles it her own way and still refuses to seek help and therapy. It doesn’t help that the official story is that she was drugged up during her time with Hannibal because even if she had to talk to a therapist to help her recover (???) her memory, she couldn’t be entirely honest. This is when her alcohol and substance abuse is the worst as well as her self-destruction.

I realise that one thing I haven’t talked about yet is her curiosity. Bedelia is a curious person when she wants to understand something like in the case of Hannibal, but she has her limit. At first she keeps him as a patient until she realises that he’s dangerous and decides to leave (season 2). Then when she’s in Europe with him, there is also a point after which she attempts to get the authorities’ attention by always shopping at the same place, sitting at a train station and staring at the camera, and asking Dimmond to help her (script). It’s also important to note that she tries to leave at some point, but Hannibal catches her before she could leave their flat, and that she has an alibi ready for when they were going to catch Hannibal (which comes back to her self-preservation). Her curiosity has its limits and even if it’s interesting to see more, her need for safety and to be in control eventually take over.

I could probably go on with each and every issues she has ever had, but I think I went through the most important even if I already mentioned some in other headcanons. So now how I settled on the way I want to interpret and express her mental state, it’s actually something that came with time. I’ve been writing this problematic lady for 5 years now so I developed her over those years by watching her scenes many, many times, reading the scripts, reading interviews, and also by creating a backstory for her that made sense for how I see her. It was, and still is given that she’ll always be a work in progress, a work of both analysis and research. Bedelia is a complicated and mysterious character, so I had to make choices that seemed fitting for how I see her and there were things I believed in the past that I don’t anymore as we got more material with season 3. Honestly settling on her mental state and how to express it has always been analysing her scenes, putting them in relations with each other and her past, making research, and then making a decision. I’d also like to add that her backstory is entirely my own creation and I made it in a way that is both fitting her character and also explains some of her behaviours, but as said at the very beginning of this post, it’s my interpretation of Bedelia and not “the truth”. Furthermore, while her mental state changes depending on the period of her life, it also changes depending on the verses. In some AU, she can be more violent and vengeful, but it’s only strong a reaction to what happened to her and it comes from issues she already has (like PTSD) that became more intense.

So is it challenging to write Bedelia? Hell yes. It’s all about details and keeping her reactions logical even if they seem illogical. An example is how she plans things carefully, but sometimes still acts recklessly. It seems illogical, but given her traumas and survival instinct or her curiosity, it makes sense for her. For the details, it’s always about noticing the small reactions and finding out what they mean. Her body language is extremely important to know how she feels in certain situations (even if my interpretation of a scene is not the same as other people’s and it’s normal). What I really try to do when writing Bedelia is to give small hints about how she feels through her body language and describing how she feels even if it’s barely visible for the person facing her. As for writing her traumas or morally ambiguous actions, it isn’t the easiest thing, so it takes work. Of course I can rely on personal experiences and real life to do it, but it also forces me to look further than just “oh yeah she killed people”. Writing a morally grey character is challenging, but I absolutely adore doing it and I adore Bedelia. I wouldn’t have continued to write her for so long otherwise. It’s a constant challenge, but it’s worth it.

In conclusion (yes the real one), this became way too long and I hope it answered your questions, anon. Thank you so much for sending this, it was really interesting to go further in own I see her mental health and I hope you had the courage to read all of it. And thank you for your kind words

#Anonymous #;They send me greeting cards [ask]#;I've had to draw a conclusion [headcanon]#long post #(like VERY long post)#(more than 4'500 words long kind of post)#(but hey now you have how I see Bedelia)#(with details)#(even if it's not everything)#(because it would have become even longer otherwise <.<)

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kenjkats · 7 years

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Notes Between Strangers (Kenji x F!MC Headcanon)

Another request for a Kenji HC by @aliaisreal ❤ You’re gonna have to tell me where you find these fun FUN prompts!!

Based on this prompt: “We write notes to each other on the desk we share at different times and I never knew who I was talking to until I saw you stay behind after class to write on it and holy shit you’re HOT.”

Note: Hope you don’t mind, it’s easier to HC when the AU is still somewhat linked to their reality, so instead of classmates this is an AU where they’re coworkers, but Alex (Hero name: Asteria) wasn’t put in charge of Kenji and The Grand, so they haven’t met yet.

Note 2: GOD HELP ME this is practically fanfic all the bullets were so long I just clumped them into paragraphs so yeah. Fun fact I used to write. Majored in it even, but haven’t done so in two years, so any measures to convert it from bullet hc notes to fanfic is probably A MESS™ Hope you like at least some of it tho lol

Word count: about 2800 which is RIDICULOUS. If you’ve never heard of a slowburn hc, well here you go.

HC request prompts / HC masterlist

Alex is sitting in the Prescott Industries conference room. She always sits in the same seat near the corner of the room, next to the largest chair in the room where her boss, Grayson is sitting. She’s listening to him talk to a room full of clients and noting down everything that’s happening. Sometimes these things go on for hours and they talk in circles. Alex tends to space out. She absent-mindedly scribbles in the edges of her notebook when this happens: little doodles of stick figures flying and fighting villains shooting fire from their hands, or she writes little notes about how she feels.

I’m tired. This meeting is boring and going nowhere. Wish I was in my tub with a good book right now. Or wine.

“Alex!” Grayson calls out, snapping her out of her daze.

“Yes, Mr. Prescott?”

“Did you get that last part?”

“Yes,” she replies trying not to look flustered, tearing out the sheet of paper with doodles and thoughts on it and placing it in the tiny shelf area the conference room table has underneath, out of Grayson’s sight. By the end of the meeting Alex is so flustered by all the instructions Grayson’s spouting off on their way out of the room that she forgets the piece of paper.

That afternoon Kenji was called up to the conference room to have a meeting with Grayson and a few important figures involved in The Grand’s opening night later that month. He shakes hands all around the table, flashing his signature charismatic grin, and takes a seat next to Grayson in the corner of the room.

He’s absent-mindedly drumming his fingers on the table as he’s listening to the men in suits drone on, when something falls from the table’s shelf and lands in his lap. Curious, he picks it up and reads it under the table, now ignoring Grayson and the others. He smirks to himself, amused by the doodles of whom he recognized to be Asteria, the other hero he’s been seeing running around the city. Kenji looks up and nods along. He answers a question or two to make sure he still looks like he’s paying attention.

He then picks up his pen and scribbles next to the note underneath the hero doodles:

Books get wet you know. Wine’s good. A good Darjeeling tea is even better. ;)

- K

Kenji folds the sheet of paper and returns it to the small shelf, letting it stick out just a little bit in the hopes that it catches its owner’s attention. He’s not sure why he replied. Or signed his name. But he found the writer amusing and honestly, he was bored of this meeting, too.

A couple of days later Grayson calls Alex into yet another meeting in the conference room. Things are getting hectic with preparations for The Grand’s opening. She sits in her usual seat and spots the folded paper peeking out from below the table. Did she leave something there? Unsure and curious, she takes a peek at the note as others take their places around the table.

Alex recognizes what it is the moment she sees her little Asteria sketch and is a little flustered to see that she had left one of her doodle pages in the conference room. She’s about to crumple it up when she notices something new. Alex stares at the words for a few seconds, a little baffled that someone was writing back to her. The corner of her mouth turns upward in amusement. She barely manages to hold in a giggle when she sees a tiny sketch of whom she recognizes to be Talos, wrestling with her doodle of Caleb. Then another of Talos posing with his muscles flexed and grinning.

Amused, she plays along and responds,

I’ll try that. Thanks, stranger. So… Talos fan, huh? Is it the bronze abs?

- A

As the days go by and the opening night of The Grand draws near, the conference meetings become frequent. Alex is usually called in with one group in the mornings, and Kenji with another just before the day ends. To pass the time and to relieve stress, they keep up with the notes. Something about the writer’s humor strikes Kenji, makes him want to play along even more.

Funny! I like Talos more for his shining (get it?) initiative to protect Northbridge. I mean, if we’re talking about sexy heroes I’d say a guy like me would look better with Asteria.

(A doodle of Asteria inside a heart is drawn next to the note)

But more importantly, you noticed Talos’ abs huh? You like those? /:)

- K

Alex blushes at the thought of this stranger being attracted to her. Well he means Asteria, but she is Asteria.

Hah! Let’s just say a classy girl like me can appreciate a sculpted figure. And Asteria’s wayyy out of your league.

She pauses and considers this stranger being so candid with her, and she’s interested in him.

Who are you again anyway?

- A

Kenji smirks to himself at the new message. He’s starting to like this snarky mystery girl.

You wound me! I’m a catch! Better than Talos, even.

(A doodle of a sad-faced Talos with a large X over his abs and a doodle of Kenji grinning, eyes closed and hands on his hips with fireworks behind him sit side by side underneath the note)

And me? Just a company man. Why? You interested, A? ;)

- K

It’s been about 2 weeks of notes now, and Alex wonders how she still lets herself get surprised by this cocky stranger greeting her during morning meetings. She sits there in disbelief again, but can’t help smiling at the little flirtation he’s started. There’s something comforting about the way they banter that Alex had been enjoying during these busy days. She wonders if she should encourage this.

“Alex,” Grayson calls to her, a slight frown on his face, “you’ve been distracted a lot in these meetings lately. Mind telling me what’s going on?”

Shit, she thinks.

“Sorry, Grayson, just a little overwhelmed by all the upcoming things to do on our… to do list,” Alex chuckles awkwardly.

“Yes, there is quite a bit, isn’t there?” Grayson replies, sighing. The conference room empties leaving the two of them. “Well, looks like I need to catch you up. I notice your pad’s blank, and you don’t have your laptop.”

Alex’s eyes dart to the notebook resting on the desk. “Right.”

Grayson pulls his chair in closer to Alex and begins to recap the end of the meeting. Alex is rushing to jot down all the important details, forced to stuff the note from “K” back into the shelf, forgotten.

Kenji is a little shocked, and worried, if he were to be perfectly honest, that he didn’t get a reply when he returned. As confident as he tries to be, his thoughts get the better of him; Maybe she just didn’t have a meeting this week. It’s happened before. Or…was I too forward? That usually works. In person, though. Huh.

The next day Alex hurriedly sits in her spot and searches for a note. She couldn’t find the time to even write back when there weren’t any people in the conference room because lately, there were always people. Or Grayson always needed her. Her hand feels underneath the table and shelf where they’ve started hiding their notes, in case other coworkers used the shelf space, and she lights up when she feels paper. She quickly reads through it before Grayson and the others come in.

The paper was littered with doodles of Talos in various poses with little speech bubbles telling “A” how much he loves her: Talos making a heart with his hands and grinning, or Talos holding out flowers, or Talos baring his chest with the words “I love you” written all over it.

Sorry if I came on too strong. The shameless flirting kinda gets in the way sometimes. But then again maybe you just need to see my pretty face for it all to work? lol I’m kidding. Really, though. Your messages have been the highlight of my weeks.

- K ;)

Alex giggled. She felt a little embarrassed, too, when she realized how much she was smiling by herself. She quickly regained her composure and wrote a response:

Ha. Alright, you’re forgiven… but honestly it wasn’t you. I just got caught up in a lot of work for The Grand. You might have heard of the project? Idk. Things are getting stressful though.

- A

The next days were busy, but it allowed them more frequent chances to pass notes. They both can’t deny that they looked forward to it.

Well! That’s a load off my mind. Couldn’t have the mysterious A mad at me. What would I do during these god-awful meetings?

Huh, you working on The Grand’s opening, too? We must’ve seen each other already. I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep actually. Busy busy.

- K

Riiiight. You, too? We would’ve known though, I mean clearly you sit in my seat soo… you work for Grayson, too, then?

- A

Right. Silly me. The lack of sleep and worrying that you were mad at me must have made it slip my mind. Yeah, Grayson’s my boss. Ok, who are you??

- K

And just like that the notes went from teasing and funny doodles to little comforts from a stranger. Funny doodles that cheered the other up. Little notes of encouragement. A piece of candy stuck to the back now and then. Alex was liking this side of the elusive K. She realized one day when she didn’t receive a note back that these messages were now the highlight of her workdays, too.

Kenji hadn’t been called up for a meeting in a while. He’d been forced to run around town meeting contractors and designers and musicians to get ready for the big night. He wondered whether or not he should drop by and give Grayson an update anyway. At least, just an excuse to drop off a note for A, he thought. It’s weird. He actually misses this girl he’s never even met before. Maybe in the morning, he promises himself.

It’s the day before the opening night and Alex is in the last big meeting. She decides she’ll leave another note. Maybe he just got busy like she did last time there was a lapse in notes, she thinks to comfort herself.

Kenji calls Grayson to tell him he’s visitng.

“Hey I was about to call you in for an early meeting. There are a few things I need to coordinate with you. My assisstant will help you out.”

Kenji comes over in the morning, clutching his note inside his pocket. He lets his eyes casually wander around Grayson’s floor, trying to see if he could spot A. He laughs to himself. You don’t even know what she looks like.

He decides to head over to the conference room where Grayson is already addressing a group of sponsors. Kenji stops in his tracks when he looks up and sees a woman sitting in his usual seat, typing away at her laptop, occasionally glancing upwards at Grayson. Something tells him that this is her.

Kenji loiters outside the conference room for a few moments, looking through the glass walls at “A.” He couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. He watched her, observed the way her dark hair draped her shoulders. Her smooth skin. Seductive eyes. She was perfect.

He knocks on the door and Grayson looks up to greet him, “Ah, Mr. Katsaros, come in! Everybody, this is Kenji Katsaros, the manager of The Grand I recently hired. Ah, Kenji, this is my assistant, Alex, Alex, Kenji.”

Kenji nods to the sponsors, shakes Grayson’s hand, then turns to Alex and shakes hers, lingering for a second. She gives him a confused look.

Just then Majorie peers her head in the door and calls Grayson out. He excuses himself, leaving Kenji next to Alex. The rest of the people in the room take this time to talk amongst themselves, and Kenji seizes his chance. He leans over to Alex who’s typing on her laptop and whispers, “So Alex,” he savors the name on his lips, glad he finally knows what “A” stood for, “you’re self-doodles certainly don’t do you justice.”

And Kenji watches her as her face changes from confusion to wide-eyed realization. He smirks back at her and winks. Grayson reappears before she could say anything else, and Kenji leaves his seat to sit across from Alex, with Grayson now in between them at the head of the table.

Kenji is relishing in getting to tease Alex in person. He’s definitely in his element now. He flashes her flirtatious glances with those gray eyes of his.

Alex is fidgeting in her seat, trying to stop herself from cracking a smile at his teasing or roll her eyes. She tells herself she’ll ignore him, just focus on her notes and Grayson and the meeting, but she can’t help but glance back at him, too. And she can’t help but notice how handsome he was. Those gray eyes were doing things her to her that she shouldn’t be feeling right now.

Kenji excuses himself to go to the bathroom during a lull in the conversation. He maintains eye contact with Alex as he stands up and turns to leave, slyly smirking as he went.

Kenji takes this chance to make a move. He’s always been one for surprises. He makes his way towards Grayson’s office, looking around for a sign of where Alex’s office or desk might be. He finds a nameplate on a desk in a smaller office outside of Grayson’s, and sneaks in. Kenji picks up a piece of paper and a pen, scribbles something then leaves it right in the center of her desk.

After the meeting is dismissed Kenji hangs back to walk with Alex and Grayson.

“So Kenji, you excited for the opening night tomorrow?” Grayson asks, taking on a more conversational tone.

“Oh, definitely,” he replies, but his eyes settle on Alex who tries to avoid eye contact while holding back a smirk, “Would it be cool if I brought a date?”

Alex’s eyes dart towards Kenji, an indiscernible look on her face. Kenji smirks in response, but speaks to Grayson, “she won’t get in the way of my duties, don’t worry. But showing off The Grand would be an impressive date, don’t you think?”

Grayson laughs and nods, “Of course. Go ahead.”

He glances at his watch and excuses himself, “Sorry, I’ve got another meeting to get to before the day ends. Alex, would you mind showing him out?”

“Not at all,” she replies.

When Grayson leaves she turns to Kenji and they hold eye contact for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“You are ridiculous! I can’t believe you!” Alex exclaims, giving Kenji a playful shove.

“Sorry! Couldn’t help it. Was too good a chance to pass up,” he says laughing.

They laugh it off for a bit and make remarks about seeing each other for the first time. They don’t admit it but they’re both in awe of the other.

“Hey so, you’re not my boss, right?” Kenji asks her, as they ride down the elevator.

“Nope. So?”

“So I don’t have a date for tomorrow.”

“I thought you said you had a–”

“I asked if I could bring one, not that I had one,” he smirks. They reach the ground floor and Alex walks him to the door, excited at where the conversation is headed, but trying her best to keep cool.

“Well then,” Kenji says with a grin, “see you around, Alex.”

He turns to leave and gets on his motorcycle. Alex stands there in disbelief, her expectations shattered. All she can do is laugh to herself.

“Unbelievable,” she murmurs, making her way back upstairs.

Alex walks over to her desk, still scolding herself out of embarrassment for expecting something from Kenji, when she spots a piece of folded paper neatly placed on he center of her desk, and a large “-K” written on the outside. She huffs at the sight of it .

She opens the note to find a phone number and, written in large letters:

Be my date tomorrow, A? Call me.

(A quick and messy doodle of Talos winking is scribbled in the corner)

Grinning from ear to ear and shaking her head in disbelief, Alex dials in the number and calls.

“Yo,” Kenji picks up almost immediately.

“So I saw the note.”

“And?” he says playfully.

“And you’re gonna pay for that little stunt.”

“Promise?”

“You’re absolutely unbelievable.”

Kenji laughs, “I know. Pick you up tomorrow at 8?”

#kenji katsaros #kenji x mc #choices hero #playchoices #hc #kenji hc #hc request #request #why did i write such a thing i hate writing i said i'd never do it loool #ugh this feels like shit #but ok #cause this took me a w e e k

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carrionkat · 7 years

Text

Response for kateofthecanals

Here ya go, @kateofthecanals

I don’t really use Tumblr all that much so I apologize for any formatting hiccups or errors in courtesy.

Well, since I agree with literally all of your positive points (especially how Rey and Kylo’s visions could be the same, just viewed from a different perspective), and this is already getting too long I’m just going to address your negatives!

- The turning point for me, going from “YES YES YES!” to “oh…” was immediately after the team-up in the throne room, when I quickly realized that Kylo didn’t kill Snoke because he suddenly “woke up”, and he didn’t do it for Rey… he did it so that HE could be the HBIC.

I actually read the scene differently. Conflict is the central theme of Kylo’s character, so I saw him as undecided up until he realizes that he will never be out from under Snoke’s boot. He wants to be free to decide who he is and the path his destiny will take (as seen in his “let the past die” speech) and he can’t do that while Snoke lives. I think it’s less about taking charge of the First Order, and more about killing the monster who has been pulling his strings since he was an infant. And I think Snoke demanding he kill Rey is what wakes him up, in that it makes him realize that he will never be allowed to make a meaningful choice while Snoke lives. He doesn’t want to kill Rey (in fact he wants her to be a part of the future he creates). He achieves avoiding this by killing the person making her death a possibility.

- I was really bummed when Snoke “revealed” that he was the one who facilitated the Force-bond between Kylo and Rey, but I was relieved to see this wasn’t the case after all at the end when Kylo and Rey had that one last Force-encounter. But again, what was this actually worth in the end? She closed the door on him. It was established in this film, via Luke, that a Force user can close themselves off to the Force. Who’s to say Rey won’t do the same to Kylo? That she will find a way to cut him off completely? There’s literally nothing stopping her, because she has clearly given up on him…

This is going to be a steep hill to get over, but I think a grand enough gesture from Kylo could get through to Rey. Once she knew what happened to him as a child with Luke, she forgave him for a whole lotta bad. If he were to, say, sabotage the First Order or release a prisoner or something that showed he was still conflicted, I think that could change her mind.

- … as has everyone else. And with good reason, tbh. The moment Kylo threw Rey under the bus for Snoke’s death, declared himself new Supreme Leader, and went fucking buckwild on Luke, I knew all hope for redemption was gone. Even Leia was like, “nope, I was wrong, he’s lost for good.” Basically what I got out of this movie was, Rey and Kylo “flirt” with the other sides of the Force for a hot second but then just ultimately decide that they belong where they were in the first place. Gee wow what awesome character development…

I think there was actually development here. Kylo has gone from puppet to free being. His personality beyond that is still malleable. The Dark is what he knows and it’s what he’s been trying to be since childhood, so it’s the path he follows, for now. I’m not sold that it will be the one he continues to follow, however. I also think the hopelessness of the situation is supposed to parallel Empire Strikes Back. We’re supposed to feel grim. This is our heroes’ lowest point; we’re only going up from here.

Also, he despises Luke for good reason. Him going buckwild on Luke isn’t really a condemnation of his entire character. His uncle, who he trusted and loved, tried to kill him. That’s gonna leave some damage. His rage isn’t born out of a hatred for Luke’s ideologies or of hatred of the Light, it’s born out of having his trust broken in the most cruel way possible. Maybe even resentment that Luke’s actions drove him into Snoke’s less-than-kind tutelage, but that’s probably reaching.

- The revelation of Rey’s parents was just so… banal. I felt like this was thrown in there just to put the question to rest, without any additional thought or exploration, even though that was made such a HUGE deal of in TFA. But, nah, they were “nobodies”, end of story, case closed, that’s all she wrote. It was never even explained how Kylo knew about Rey’s parents!!

The way I thought Kylo knew is because Rey knew, the whole time, and was just in denial about it. He sees it through their connection. She sees herself in the Dark part of the temple because she already knows the answer. (Also her saying she was “unafraid” while stuck in the Dark says something, but we’ll see if it gets followed up on).

- I’ve seen people claim that this movie “shuts down” anti arguments for good and that is simply not the case. There is still plenty of ammo from this movie they can use, chief among them Kylo’s cringeworthy statement to Rey that “You’re nobody. But not to me.”

Oof, yeah, I actively cringed when he said that. Someone’s been reading PUA shit. But if you want to dig for excuses you can bring up that Kylo has literally zero positive interactions with anyone except Rey, and is thusly a social moron who has forgotten what kindness is. What he’s saying is what Rey feels (that she’s nobody), followed up by what he feels (that she’s somebody) and with no pretty trimmings about it. It’s still a really shitty thing to say and I wish that line wasn’t there.

- I’m glad everyone’s happy that Kylo didn’t actually KILL Leia (which I knew he wouldn’t) but I dunno how many brownie points he gets considering he still let those other fighters take her out…

He does seem a little shocked when the other fighter’s shots connect, so maybe he was so focused on making a choice that he didn’t realize the fighter’s were taking the shot? Still, I agree with you.

- And he barely even flinched when Snoke was torturing Rey. You’d think that, I don’t know, since they have a Force-bond and everything, that he would have been able to feel her pain or something???

Yeah, some kind of reaction would have been nice. I thought I saw him trembling, but I can’t remember it very clearly so I would have to rewatch.

- During Kylo’s attack on Crait, at a certain point (around the time Luke shows up), Rey just, like, disappears, completely, and doesn’t show up again until the very end to do her rock-lifting trick. Firstly, where the hell was she that whole time, but more importantly, wouldn’t it have been kind of awesome if, like, she could sense what was happening between Kylo and Luke and using their Force-bond try to talk him out of it? And see him actually STRUGGLE with it because he’s still torn between wanting to be with her and wanting to be the Big Bad? Buuuut no, because at that point, both their minds were made up, and Rey had given up on him anyway.

Rey’s part (or lack thereof) in that battle seemed really messy narratively. There’s no reason for them to be flying over the mountains in the Falcon; they have no reason to believe that the rest of the Resistance is trying to flee the base. Why aren’t they back there in the action? Why don’t they try to blow the cannon up? Or take out the Walkers? The bond that Rey has with Kylo AND the student/teacher one she has with Luke are both just left dangling there. The Kylo/Luke confrontation is incredibly tense and I loved so many things about it, but it does feel like substance was cut for style there.

- On a more technical level, I was really disappointed by how the Force-bond sequences were filmed. I expected way more from Rian Johnson; this was something any first-year film student could have come up with. Now, I’m not claiming to be “better than Rian Johnson”, but in my headcanons of Rey and Kylo’s Force-conversations, there was a noticeable atmospheric shift – some sort of visual cue that something “different” was going on… Instead of just this basic cutting back and forth between them in their respective locales. Meh.

There was a bit of an audio cue (the sound warped) but a bit of blur around the edges or color shift or something would have been a nice visual cue.

- I didn’t find Rose that memorable, sorry. And her whole mission with Finn, much like the Kylo/Rey storyline, ended up being completely pointless, thanks to Admiral Holdo needlessly keeping vital info about her plans from Poe. WHY??? All of it was just an elaborate excuse to send Finn off on another adventure where he would end up back with the First Order so he could finish off Phasma, period. Like, yeah, there was that little hint at the very end that those kids who took care of the fathiers would, like, have something to do with the Resistance in the next movie, but honestly that could have just been a little meta commentary about how kids have been inspired by the Star Wars franchise over these past 40 years. Which is nice and all, but Finn and Rose’s mission was still pointless.

Agreed; it felt like the weakest part of the movie to me. I wanted to like Rose and Finn, but I kinda ended up resenting that their (ultimately) pointless story was taking so much time away from what I thought were more interesting plot lines.

I think the last bit was meta commentary, as well as showing that Luke’s words are true; he isn’t the last of the lightside. It’s not just Rey who will succeed him, it’s every child who has heard his story and strives to be good because of it.

- Same with Holdo. So here’s this lady who just shows up out of nowhere, keeps vital information from Poe for no good goddamn reason, thereby forcing him to come up with his own plan and send Finn & Rose on a wild goose chase, and then suddenly we’re supposed to buy this close, intimate relationship she has with Leia so that we’ll feel all wistful when she decides to go on a suicide mission to protect the Resistance?? That should have been Leia, tbh… and not just for cheap emotional impact. At that point, Leia believed both the cause and her son to be lost and really had nothing else to lose at that point, and it would have been well within her personality to take out as many motherfuckers as she could to go down with her. Holdo should have been set up as Leia’s heir apparent going forward, and Leia going all kamikaze on the First Order would have been an interesting parallel to Luke also sacrificing himself to protect the ones he loved. AND it would have solved the whole issue of how to move forward in the story after Carrie’s death. I mean, we know that Leia was supposed to play a big part in Episode 9, but we’ll never know what that was supposed to be anyway…

I feel Holdo’s story was weakened by that last interaction with Leia and where she says she liked Poe. If she stuck to the opinion she voiced earlier about him being a liability, maybe cautioned Leia about his recklessness, it makes her character more consistent. She’s presented as being kind of “by the rules” as opposed to Poe’s casual improvisation. If they kept her mindset as “he’s an idiot who can’t take orders and that’s an issue; the chain of command exists for a reason; we can’t have everyone second guessing every decision I make and that’s why I didn’t tell him” it wouldn’t feel as wishy-washy. Maybe it could have even worked as a lesson for Poe.

I like that Leia didn’t die here. It helps keep that idea of hope alive. While the reasons you point out for her doing Holdo’s maneuver make sense on a personal level, Leia being alive gives the Resistance hope, and it gives the audience hope.

For some of my personal thoughts on where Kylo and Rey could end up going from here...

Where we leave Kylo he's still in strife. He's gotten everything he's wanted: eliminating his 'weakness,' eclipsing Vader in power (after all, Vader didn’t survive the Sith ideal of killing his master) but it will not bring him any sort of joy. He's lonely and lost, not power-mad, and becoming Supreme Leader is only going to isolate him more. His force bond with Rey is still intact, despite her metaphorically closing the door on him. Their interactions haven’t been intentional, yet they still happen, because they’re both lonely and long for understanding. That’s not going to change for Kylo, even if it does for Rey. That could be a piece of what causes him to change.

Kylo Ren doesn’t give a shit about the First Order, not really. He isn’t making rousing speeches about the necessity of the cause like Hux; his actions are all concerned with Snoke’s orders and his own internal strife. He doesn’t want to lead the First Order because he believes in it, he’s leading to use it as a tool. He wants to destroy his past so he can finally shape his own destiny and decide for himself who he wants to be. He’s been shaped by others all his life; now he’s free of that. Snoke, the biggest influence in his life, is gone. He couldn’t kill Leia when he had the chance. He is pulled to Rey over and over. He seems to feel regret at the end when he finds Han’s dice. The question is, who will be created by this situation? Will it be enough to pull him, maybe not entirely to the light, but into the grey?

Snoke made a comment that I think/hope will come to be very relevant. Something to the effect of “darkness rises, and light to meet it.” The Force strives to create balance. The more dark there is, the more light there must be. But trying to balance two extremes causes tension and strife. They try to eliminate one another, and the pendulum swings wildly between the two. The true way to create balance, is to move towards the middle. I think that’s what the point of Luke’s arc was. Luke’s fear of the Dark helped create Kylo Ren from Ben. His adherence to an order that gave rise to Sidious and pushed his own father into Dark caused it to happen again. This makes it clear that the Jedi order of old doesn’t work anymore.

The Jedi were a defunct order. They swung the pendulum to far to the “Light” and demanded impossible things: emotionless, passionless, unquestioning devotion. Does any of that sound like Rey? Emotion drives everything she does! To eliminate her emotions, to make her a Jedi, it would destroy her entire character. If they do that they’re throwing out all the themes and messages they built up over Last Jedi. Same thing if Kylo stays entirely Dark. I think (hope) that they both come to realize that neither of them actually wants the destruction of the other. Maybe Rey reads those texts that made it onto the Falcon and realizes that she can’t follow the Jedi ideals. Maybe those old texts contain the idea of grey Jedi instead of the Light/Dark dichotomy; after all, there was a shrine to the Dark on the island, so the founders of the temple couldn’t have rejected it entirely.

They’ve set up plenty of signs that point to the emergence of grey Jedi instead of the Sith and the Light. They could end up pulling the rug out from under us and just make IX flat “good” vs evil with no nuance, but that would be ignoring all the work done in Last Jedi, and it would be messy story telling to not follow the cues that they already laid.

And honestly is Kylo goes grey there’s no reason why he and Rey wouldn’t end up together. Force bonds are powerful things, and their awareness of one another is almost painful. Rey would have to shut herself off from the Force to cut off her awareness of him, and is she really going to do that? Maybe she will for a time, but that’s not a long-term solution.

So while there are no steadfast assurances that we will get what we want from IX, I would say that the necessary groundwork for what we want has already been laid.

Oh! Another thought. Kylo’s “rule the galaxy at my side” is the SAME EXACT THING Vader offered Luke (but, like, without the romantic undertones). Like Luke, Rey rejected his offer. But Vader was still redeemed in the end. If Kylo’s story continues his mirroring of Vader, we will get a redemption. The real question is, will we get it without Kylo dying?

#last jedi spoilers

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aesjae · 7 years

Text

Boyfriend! Yuta

#4 of Boyfriend! Series

what a bright smile hehe, i hope he never loses the smile of his

Word Count: 1,266 Style/ Genre: Headcanon/- Date Posted: 3 Sept 2017

well well who do we have here

the flirty guy

HAHA

okay so yuta as a boyfriend!!

let's just say we all know of yuta's flirty antiques

you can probably expect yuta still constantly flirting with you even after both of you get into a relationship

you can't control his flirty instincts ya

expect numerous pickup lines from him

both of you could just be having a relaxing walk in the evening down han river

hands intertwined

enjoying the breeze and the night view

and yuta just tugs onto your clasped hand in his gently

almost pressing his lips to your ears

as he whispers

"this view beautiful, but it can never beat your beauty in my eyes"

woah thereeee

and you can feel your face heating up

thanking the darkness of the surroundings

you may be in a relationship with this cute osaka prince but it was no doubt he had the ability to make your heart throb in 0.01 seconds

what a heart throb

yuta is probably the kind of boyfriend who sends you daily morning texts

together with 'compliment of the day'

even if both of you aren't formally living together yet

his texts and selfies never fail to bring a smile to your face the first thing in the morning

your family and friends could easily sense your transition ever since you started dating yuta

you have become brighter, more positive

and technically you have a smile on your face most of the time

at school or at work

whenever you're looking down at your phone with a wide grin

it didn't take rocket science to figure out that you were obviously talking to yuta

yuta would most likely be the cringy cheesy boyfriend

i mean with all those flirts you can probably tell

but unlike what i've written for jeno

he would probably be a sucker for matching things

not really couple things but

he would constantly try to match things that you have or you wear

your favourite colour's yellow?

trust me by your second date half of his wardrobe would have yellow clothing

and at every date, you would see at least 2 yellow items on him

your favourite food is pizza?

okay no problem

soon he'd be eating pizza with you so often

you would wonder why he isn't called pizza prince instead of takoyaki prince anymore

he'd like small matching items like matching phone cases and phone lock screens

he would find them absolutely adorable

they may seem insignificant and a bit extra

but to him, it was a sign of having you in every aspect of his life

he'd be the type of boyfriend who would brag about to his bros every time they meet up

talking so proudly about you he put his bros' girlfriends to shame

his friends would just be "woah there lover boy"

yuta would probably also enjoy having fashion related sessions with you

going shopping with you and trying out numerous attires

coming out of your fitting rooms in different attires to pose for swag couple pictures

uall can totally be extra together

and also go makeup shopping together

having yuta as your boyfriend could be really fun

he may randomly pronounce his sexiness to you

i mean we all already know of it but

yeah you get it i mean it's yuta what ya expect

anyway

yuta's flirty nature could be the cause of fights between both of you

it would be really simple

rooting from one of yuta's simple flirty response to someone

and you would start to feel a bit jealous and a bit insecure

you may ask yuta about it

but he may just casually dismiss your question

saying that it wasn't anything

but you may refute back and say that him flirting when he was in a committed relationship definitely wasn't "nothing"

that small action of his hurt your feelings

you were well aware of yuta's flirty nature but his flirty actions have caused you to feel very turbulent about the relationship

sometimes you may feel that your relationship with yuta wasn't stable enough

and being the pretty boy that he is, he could easily find another partner

and that anybody could be easily smitten by yuta

a simple issue could stem into a heated argument between the both of you

shouting, yelling, screaming

tears streaming down your face

but then you realised there were tears streaking his too

you couldn't help but crumble at that sight

just because of your insecurity

you forgot about how vulnerable yuta was inside as well

despite the strong facade he put up on the outside

you could feel a sour bitterness in your heart

staggering towards a sobbing yuta who has his facial features contorted in all angles

and you would hug him tightly, instantly forgetting why both of you even argued in the first place

but after every fight, your relationship would develop and become even stronger

oh yes let me talk about him introducing you to his culture and family!!

he would be so hyped!!!!

like he would love to bring you to japan and osaka one day

to show you the beauty of his motherland

he would especially want to bring you to japan during the cherry blossoms season

both of you would take really pretty pictures with the cherry blossom trees in the background

but you would be offended by how pretty he looked in every picture lmao

and oh my gosh he would love to see you in a kimono

he would have a specially booked photoshoot just for the both of you

both of you would don on traditional japanese costumes

and he would just be so shooked by how elegant and gorgeous you looked

that moment when he realised he was completely enamoured of you

he wouldn’t be able to, and won’t find anyone better than you tbh

every day you learnt something new about yuta

and every day he managed to fascinate you

you got to learn even more about him that you did when you were still friends with him

his respect for women

his perception of beauty that well went beyond outward appearance

his appreciation of people for who they were

and the meaning of his love

yuta may be a "sang" namja (tough guy), but he went soft whenever it involved you

but you admired him for who he was

appreciating the toughness he put on for you

yet also appreciating how delicate he was with you

he may not be the most perfect boyfriend, but he was definitely someone that could understand you for who you were

he was willing to spend his time, effort and money on you

probably the only person apart from his family tbh

to him, you were his treasure

“where else could i find someone as imperfectly perfect as you? probably nowhere. imperfectly perfect... but i still love you to bits anyway”

smooch attack

yuta may have some rated thoughts from time to time

and when he tell you about them you would be so flushed

and he would laugh at your reaction

pinching your cheeks and chuckling at how adorable you were

you would just punch his arm in retaliation of him teasing you

and he would whine cutely like a baby, tackling you with tickles and pecks on your face

cute

every day in his arms you'd feel so blissful

and at the end of the day

you never failed to thank god for letting you meet this wonderful japanese man out of the 8 billion people in the world

[ unedited ] i wrote this in one seating!! woop,, !! even though i should be studying hehe i hope all of you like this ❤︎

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rogerdvies · 7 years

Note

yes riktor. yes @ the lovely and fluffy but as a lover of angst, ofc i have to (and bc u mentioned teehee); what if they broke up? how would it happen? would it be totally unexpected - it just came up in a fight - or would it be a build up of unreleased emotions? tbh, im just giving you permission to break my heart and tear it apart.

@delacouvr. honey, you are such an enabler of my riktor addiction and i love you for it. i actually have four headcanons for their breakup but i chose one for the sake that my headcanons are ridiculously long.

– – – – – he couldn’t handle it anymore. they only ever spoke over letters, and those were becoming less and less frequent (your fault, ronald, why can’t you be more interesting?). silence stretched between them the same length as the miles separating them (your fault, ronald, he’s trying so hard to make it work and you’re giving up). words couldn’t be conjured up in reply to the kindest of remarks, soft curiosities, pleading inquiries for a return of affection (he loves you, so sweet, opening up to you, making himself vulnerable, and you can’t even tell him the truth; your love for him is fading).

it’s a combination of needing physical proximity for reassurance and his own insecurities that got the better of him in the end.

– – – – – it was tearing him apart inside. his letters back were becoming less and less frequent, brief, disinterested (too daft for him aren’t you, dumb krum?). it’s a slow deterioration, as if watching someone peel off his scab millimeter by millimeter, watching the blood well up droplet by droplet, while trying to will it to stop with his mind (you don’t deserve him, krum, he’s trying to let you off easy and you’re making it harder for him; just let go). bittersweet torture without the sweet, ribcage cracked open and heart laid bare in a desperate attempt to rekindle something in the other (how pathetic, he probably regrets every moment with you).

it’s a combination of jealousy and frustration that were his downfall.

the constant second-guessing them (ronald), always wondering if he was doing something wrong (viktor), fingers empty left longing for a body to hold (weasley), clawing tooth and nail just to get an answer out of the other (krum).

then came the rupture; the smell of lavender is only calming if one isn’t allergic to it. a photograph sent anonymously, no explanation necessary. a single photograph, evidence of a moment caught in time, witnessed by eyes not meant to see, catalyst – cause of the sudden implosion of the beating organ in viktor krum’s chest.

apparently there were many things ronald weasley had neglected to share with him. a rise to quidditch fame at hogwarts as a phenomenal keeper. a rift opening up between himself and a friend. – – and a kiss with a girl whose eyelashes fluttered shut at the contact.

anger simmered through his veins, setting his body ablaze as he watched his world burn down around him, asphyxiating on the smoke of his own corpse. the photograph was enough to set in stone what he had been fighting against: ronald weasley was done with him. ronald weasley was done with him, and he didn’t even have the courage to be honest with viktor.

he doesn’t make it public. one of his teammates urges him to – the world knows about krum’s relationship with the youngest weasley boy, believes them to be happy. krum could create a scandal – destroy the ginger’s reputation. revenge, for a broken heart.

but he couldn’t. he would never do that to ronald – would not hurt him on purpose. perhaps he had done something to drive the youngest weasley boy away (lacking wit, feeble intelligence, boring, inaccessible, not good enough). yet that did not excuse ronald’s actions.

yet he couldn’t bring himself to write to ronald about it. couldn’t inquire about the photograph, couldn’t ask for an explanation. wouldn’t take his anger out on the other. he didn’t want to know the truth just yet. he just needed… to think.

however, whoever had sent him the photograph had made it their job to bring the scandal to light. when the papers published and rita skeeter came knocking at durmstrang’s doors, krum refused to answer her questions. when she insisted (stubborn woman), and gained entrance to his attention, his sole response was that the matter was private between him and ronald. when pushed, a growl that she had no right to stick her nose in his and ronald’s business was his answer. his statement read that he refused to talk poorly of ronald weasley, despite being aware of the photograph (he had been impassive when she’d flashed it at him, her quill had taken note).

hermione’s letter comes not long after the article is published. a quiet thank-you for refusing to hurt her friend, and an apology. for something she had known about. something she could have stopped. should have told him about. his letter back is kind, bearing no ill-will, but short and polite. formal. still viktor refuses to write to ronald. keeps the sudden influx of letters that ronald sends unopened in his desk.

more articles are published, depicting viktor krum as a victim, as a broken-hearted boy, as an unknowing party. painting ronald weasley as a fame-chaser, a user, a cheater. viktor knows differently (or thinks he does), and his response to these claims are, once again, it is a private matter between the two boys. when they press and ask if viktor had spoken to ronald since the news of him cheating had been made public, viktor does not answer. they have all the answer they need.

harry’s letter comes next. it’s awkwardly written – they weren’t close, not hardly, but it’s an outstretched hand. unlike hermione’s it is not a plead for forgiveness, nor an appeal to his conscious – it is an appeal to tie loose ends and put both parties out of their misery. viktor krum wishes he could forget about ronald weasley and his friends.

a letter is his reply – – – but not to harry. ronald receives it exactly three months after the ordeal. it’s short, barely three sentences long, inquiring that they speak later through floo network. the conversation begins awkward, ronald’s quiet greeting returned coldly as dark eyes stare up from the fire.

ronald weasley learns five things during that conversation: that a heartbroken, furious bulgarian with a thick accent is nearly impossible to understand – but he gets the jist of it. that viktor krum had loved him deeply – even with the distance – and would have done anything he needed to in the attempt to make them work. that viktor would have done anything to make him happy. that viktor krum would never hurt him on purpose, despite his temper. and that he had fucked something that could have been good up.

viktor krum learned three things: that ronald weasley didn’t know what he wanted anymore – which meant that he did not want him. that ronald weasley had never wanted to hurt him – had never meant to – but hadn’t known how to handle his shifting emotions (misguided intentions did not make the pain hurt any less). that ronald weasley had cheated on him, had known exactly what he was doing, and had done it anyways.

ronald’s apology was met with the shake of a head (unforgiven, weasley, you don’t deserve forgiveness for tearing up the heart of a man who had stayed loyal to you) and sharp, tired words: if he did not want to be in a relationship with viktor anymore, he should have told him.

nothing left to salvage when you’ve burnt down the kingdom is there, ronald?

the article published the next monday detailed the truth: bulgarian seeker viktor krum single again after boyfriend cheated. he still refused to speak to the press, refused to drag ronald’s name through the mud regardless of what he had done. he was not that kind of person. their private matters were private.

ronald’s responding interview stated that he had made a mistake, but he and viktor had talked it out and had come to a mutual agreement. mutual agreement. those words brought glacial ice to freeze the fires (he had no voice in the matter, yet another lie from the weasley, however small in the attempt to save face), and viktor krum found that even though he still cared immensely, still hurt deeply – – – he didn’t care. he wanted to be done with it.

he did not answer the letter that lavender brown wrote to him a while later when she felt wronged by ronald’s sudden break-up “to be with hermione”. the news brought fresh pain, but he kept it inside. he was done.

emotions would fade one day, and the press would find something else juicy to pick at sooner or later.

#leo answers #riktor #my writing #claire you are wonderful and you send me things to get me writing and i love you for it #delacouvr #but this is super sad and i am sorry if it makes ron seem like a horrible person that was not the intention #he just didn't know how to handle the situation of changing emotions.#he's human

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queercapwriting · 7 years

Text

Alex’s Fallout, Marcus’s Interrogation (2x20)

@ophelias-heart wrote “ What about Alex not being in the field, still recovering from the attack last week. She refuses to take the time off, says she's fine but is restricted to the DEO. Maybe being in the confined space while talking with Marcus is tough, flashes back to being stuck in that cage. Kara/James/Winn sees her struggling at one point but tries not to treat her like glass because she'll try to prove she's made of steel. Maggie comforts her after a text from Kara?” and @loverofshows wrote “ something about alex's ptsd? maybe her talking to James or J'onn about it, in addition to Maggie? “ and @lynxwilde wrote “The fact that they did not deal with any of the fall out of last episode and the deplorable lack of Maggie.” and @chortles81 wrote “ Can't help but wonder if anyone else noticed the questionable helpfulness of 'tell us where your mom is so we can protect your mom from doing bad things to other people' coming from a DEO agent to an alien child with that backstory... considering what you've said about the DEO, Maggie's opinion of it (and the DEO's effect on Alex), and however-unintended parallels on race/policing in this episode (esp. POC police leadership) any chance you'd want to explore that further? “ and @sapphic-daisies wrote “ can you do something about how j'onn's doing? his feelings get sidelined so often like he probably misses m'gann and must still be reeling from 2x19 and now he must feel like he cant protect his family and i also have this headcanon that bc of his martian mind stuff he's super sensitive to other's emotions so like he must not be doing so great oh my god i have so many feels about space dad ok “

He won’t let her back into the field.

J’onn.

Or the DEO shrink.

“He’s a therapist, babe,” Maggie tries to soothe her, but Alex insists on calling him her shrink.

And she insists on telling everyone who will listen that she’s fine, she’s fine, and can everyone stop acting like she’s not and can someone just please give her back her damn gun already?

They let her interrogate the boy because she’ll probably kill someone if she doesn’t have something to do.

And with Alex’s history of violence? Extreme violence? Sadistic violence?

It’s not an idle possibility.

So she kneels down when Marcus comes into the DEO, and J’onn notices her flinching, still in pain from the week before, but he thinks he only notices because her thoughts are so loud.

Because her pain is so damn loud.

“Hey Marcus. I’m Alex. You wanna come in here and have a chat with me?”

He says nothing. He just stares at her. Alex’s eyes shift from J’onn to James and back again, and she guides the boy into the interrogation room.

“You like burgers, Marcus?” No response.

“I’m gonna order us a couple. Okay?”

She makes a point of calling the place herself. In front of him.

So maybe he’ll see her more as a regular person and less of a secret agent. Less of a soldier.

Hell, she doesn’t feel like much of a soldier lately anyway.

Especially not now.

Not locked in this interrogation room, technically in control but really completely out of it, the boy holding all the cards, the walls holding them both in, and she knows it won’t start filling with water but she can’t help but constantly checking the corners of the rooms for pipes, and she knows it won’t start filling with water but she can’t help constantly wondering how long the boy can hold his breath, if his species even can hold their breath, what kinds of things he’d need if submerged in water.

Surely she’d die. Holding him above her.

She tries to talk to him.

Tries to ask him about school. About his mom.

He says nothing.

The burgers come. She thanks Vasquez, who gives the boy a wink.

He still says nothing.

“You’re really not hungry, Marcus?” she asks, but she knows damn well he’s not.

Because she wasn’t, either, after everyone she knew watched her father nearly massacre hundreds of people.

And she isn’t, now, when her skin keeps crawling, when her body keeps threatening to seize, when every small sound indicates the oncoming rush of water that her brain knows won’t come, but that her body is convinced will happen.

That the throbbing scar on her shoulder is convinced will happen.

Kara notices first.

It’s Alex’s heartbeat that gives her away.

She waves over J’onn, and she points and she whispers, and he sighs, because he knows, and he wishes she would talk to him.

But he knows she won’t.

Not yet.

She tells him that she wants to help his mom.

That they need to find her, so they can protect her from from doing bad things to other people.

James flinches.

J’onn flinches.

Finding the boy’s mom would do no such thing.

And Alex doesn’t know this, because to her, Marcus is just a child. A little traumatized, maybe, but innocent. Oblivious.

She doesn’t know he doesn’t have the privilege to be oblivious.

Because he might be an alien, but he’s an alien with the wrong color skin on a white supremacist planet.

And he might be a child, but he knows that when government people -- or whoever she is, anyway -- want to find people who look like his mom, who look like him, it’s not to protect her from doing bad things to people.

His mom would never hurt anybody on purpose.

But of course this woman who thinks she’s being nice to him doesn’t know that.

Because she sees his mother’s purple eyes and she sees his mother’s brown skin, and she doesn’t know it, but she’s telling him exactly what he needs to know.

That he should keep his mouth shut, because this woman doesn’t know how to help her mother.

Because protecting his mother from doing bad things to people is hurting his mother. Is locking his mother away. Forever. Supposedly for her own protection.

A euphemism.

He learned that word in school last week.

A euphemism to make her feel better about the work she does.

And he knows she’s scared. Scared of something about this room. Something about this cage.

He doesn’t blame her. It scares him, too.

He thinks maybe they have more in common than she understands, but also less in common than she assumes.

She’s itching to get out of this room.

Her skin is crawling.

So is his.

Maybe that’s enough common ground.

Maybe it isn’t.

He doesn’t know.

He just knows her wants to be let go.

And he imagines she does, too.

It’ll happen sooner, the less he says.

She’ll get overwhelmed. She’ll get frustrated. She doesn’t seem like the type to give up, but to get out of that room? She will.

He knows. So he waits.

And he’s right, because she slips out of the room, and she tells them that the man with the suit and the shield and the helmet would do a better job getting through to him.

He likes that man.

Maybe.

Maybe he can like that man. James, he said his name was. James.

His face had felt smooth. Solid.

Safe.

He knows he scares James.

That James is terrified of failing him.

Of failing him, of something happening to his mother, to him, and being powerless to stop it.

Marcus knows about feeling powerless.

He thinks he can like James.

And Alex?

Alex runs into another woman’s arms, shorter than her, longer hair.

Because “Kara texted me, babe, told me your heartrate went through the roof,” and Alex says she’s fine, she’s fine, but Marcus knows better, and so does the woman holding her.

“Alex, it’s okay to not be able to be in an interrogation room. And I -- “ He sees the woman glance in the room. At him. And he sees her face run cold.

“Babe, what -- he’s a child, what the hell is he doing in an -- “

“His mother was responsible for -- “

“I don’t give a damn what his mother was responsible for, Danvers -- J’onn, James, how the hell could you allow this?”

“Detective Sawyer, this is DEO business, and -- “

“And this is my damn city, Director Henshaw, and I’ve kept my mouth shut about your alien Guantanamo for too long, but J’onn, he’s a little boy, how -- “

“Maggie, I was just trying to talk to him -- “

“Well maybe you could have taken him out to eat or something instead of -- “

“That’s exactly what Mr. Olsen was about to do, Detective Sawyer.”

“I... I was?”

“J’onn’s right, James. Look at him. He’s looking at you. He wants you.”

James stares and James sighs, and Maggie touches his hand, and it steadies him.

He nods and Maggie grimaces relief.

“Alex, I’m sorry, I know we’re not supposed to interfere in each other’s jobs, I just -- “

“No, no, Maggie, you’re right, I...” Maggie’s brow furrows, because Alex Danvers never gives in this easily.

“Alex, are you -- “

“I’m fine. I’m just capable of admitting when I’m wrong, okay? Sometimes. I just... I’m tired, Maggie. I’m just... I’m tired. Of being stuck here, of... of feeling like getting information out of an elementary school kid is the best I can do for my team. And I couldn’t even do that, I couldn’t... I couldn’t...”

And suddenly Alex is breaking, and Maggie and J’onn are taking her to a side office, and then she’s sobbing, sobbing against J’onn’s chest and Maggie’s arms, hyperventilating because she has oxygen, now, she’s not in a cage, now, except she is, she is, and she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get out of it.

“I got you, babe,” Maggie whispers into her hair, and J’onn tries desperately not to feel, because Alex’s thoughts are loud and her feelings are louder -- screaming, screaming, so much screaming -- and his face holds stoic, and his body holds steady, but he misses M’gann and he misses his daughter’s smile, and he misses the time when he would never have put that little boy in a box, but so much has happened, too much has happened, and he’s losing his grip and he’s losing his empathy, and if Alex was his way out, she’s also got to be his way back in.

“We’ve all got you, Alex,” he tells her, and she sobs harder, and Maggie holds her closer, and J’onn wishes harder for James to trust himself with that boy, to trust himself because he won’t fail another child, another one of his children.

But he has faith in them.

And maybe that faith is exactly what they all need.

#sanvers #sanvers minific #james olsen #james x marcus #supergirl 2x20

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thestoryweneededtowrite · 8 years

Note

spot and race defs get their shit together bc they start sexting as a joke but then realize both of them are SUPER into it

I’m not sure if this is a headcanon or a prompt so yes I support this and also I wrote a thing.

R: I wnt to touch u

The text message came through when Spot was staring angrily athis stack of reading as if that was somehow going to get the job done. Welcomingthe distraction, he scooped up his phone and read the message. The sender almostconfused him more than its content. Tony Higgins, who everyone seemed to callRace for a reason no one could explain. He was in one of Spot’s seminars andthey’d been paired together for a presentation, prompting the exchange of phonenumbers, but beyond that they’d nothing to do with each other. And now Race waspropositioning him? Spot texted back anyway – as weird as this was it was moreentertaining than Derrida.

S: How drunk are youright now?

The reply came almost instantly.

R: 4

R: On a scale 1 to 4

Race’s answer was evident in his poor logic and lack ofgrammar without the need for words. Spot was no stranger to guys who turned queerafter several drinks; it seemed university was full of people who got handsywith whoever was closest regardless of gender after a beer or two. It was finefor anyone straight. They could, and did, just laugh it off the next morning –if they even remembered what had happened at all. But Spot reckoned queer folkshad a lot more to lose by getting together with someone on a night out sincethere was every chance that person might turn around and say they weren’tinterested once they were sober. Spot was pretty such Race was one of thoseguys who just got too affectionate after some alcohol. He wasn’t going to playalong just to be mocked the next day.

S: Go to sleep Race

He hoped the text sounded as final to Race as it did to him,but a few seconds later another reply buzzed.

R: Cnt. At pary

Either Race was currently in a sword fight with someone, orhe was at a party; either was possible from his vague attempts to spell wordscorrectly. Spot decided the latter was probably most likely. He bristled at theidea of his texts being shown around a group of drunk, laughing people and wasglad he’d decided to largely ignore Race’s message. Had he been drunk himself,or had Race been queer, he might have responded in kind. When attractive peoplerandomly sexted you out of nowhere sometimes it was just good sense to go withit. Now was clearly not one of those times.

S: Oh

S: That explains alot

S: This is a dare?

Either alcohol or peer pressure had to be behind this.

R: Had t osext sum1

Clearly it was a little or both, but from the sounds of itRace was message hadn’t been solely concocted by his own brain and some beer.Spot gritted his teeth. He’d hoped uni would be the end of the pranks andteasing and joking around with him because he liked guys. Race seemed like adecent guy, in the little time they’d spent together, and Spot couldn’tunderstand why he’d willingly join in with what amounted to little more thanbullying.

S: And you pickedme…???

R: Random

R: But I’m glad u

Spot stared at the second message when it appeared on hisscreen. The tone seemed to have changed; he would have bet anything that Racehad stepped away from his friends and whatever game he was playing to continuethis conversation. It didn’t seem like something you’d want people reading overyour shoulder for.

S: Right…?

Spot typed back, his fingers shaking ever so slightly. Hewas still determined not to look like he was encouraging this, but he didn’treally want it to end either. Why was Race glad it was his name that had comeup? Because he knew Spot wouldn’t take it seriously, considering it was comingfrom a, presumably, straight guy? Or was there another reason?

R: I do wan to tocuhu

R: Yor’e hot

It took a couple of seconds for Spot to decipher Race’sdrunk texting but once he did he just blinked. And then confusion quicklyturned to bitterness and he tightened his hold on his phone. It was cruel tomock him like that just because he was out and proud. He could imagine Race onthe other side of the conversation, laughing to himself as he drunkenly decidedit was okay to say those things.

Spot typed out three last messages, sending them one afterthe other, before setting his phone aside screen-down and turning over to go tosleep.

S: And you’re drunk

S: Leave me alone

S: Go back to yourparty

The next day Race woke up far after his lectures had begunand ended. His head was still pounding and everything was a little blurry.Reaching for the headache tablets he kept just beside his bed for time likethese, he swallowed two of them dry. They scratched at his throat as they wentdown but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand up to get water until he startedto feel a little less ill. To pass the ten minutes he had to wait for thepainkillers to take effect, he grabbed his phone and tried to assess the damageof the night before. Texts and snapchat replies and tweets were usually goodstarting evidence to work out what he’d done. The name at the top of his recentcontacts list chilled him to the bone. CuteIrish Seminar Boy. Otherwise known as Spot Conlon, the infuriating boy withdistracting cheekbones and a smirk that Race swore would have turned him gay ifhe hadn’t already played for both teams. Oh, this was not good. He prayed toany deity he could think of before he opened up the message log.

Reading it through he had to admit it could have been farworse. The truth or dare game came back to him, albeit slightly hazily, and he vaguelyrecalled being happy when it was Spot’s contact that had been chosen for him tosext. He could probably alleviate most of what he’d written by blaming alcoholbut there was still the underlying problem that he’d admitted to attraction. Andfrom Spot’s responses he was hurt by the conversation – that wasn’t how Racewanted to leave things. Swallowing his pride, he typed a quick apology.

R: I’m sry

R: Abt last night

He didn’t know how to go into detail. I’m sorry I hit on you. I’m sorry you were the person I had to text. I’msorry I hurt you?

It was only a second before a little bubble popped up totell him Spot was replying. He held his breath and waited for the dots in thebubble to change into letters, hoping the message wasn’t going to be one ofscorn.

S: Wow

S: You’re almost asbad at texting sober

It broke the tension, if that was what Spot was aiming for.Race managed a small laugh, surprised and relieved when it didn’t result in himwanting to throw up.

R: Shut up

It was a poor reply, but Race didn’t know what else to do.He was leaving the ball in Spot’s court – something that would turn out to beone of the best decisions he’d ever made.

S: So you want totouch me, huh?

S: Didn’t know youswung that way

Race liked where this was going. He wasn’t in the closet,exactly, but he was out on more of a need-to-know basis. Right now it seemedlike there was something intriguing to come of Spot knowing. Race knew he was gay,so if he was interested then… He typed a reply before he could talk himself outof it.

R: I swing evry way

R: & sure

R: U may be a dickbut u r attractive

It was a couple of minutes before Spot replied and Racemanaged to convince himself that he’d made a huge mistake. He could see thatSpot went to type something several times, but kept deleting it and leaving nothing.When a reply eventually came it was more difficult to interpret than Race wouldhave liked.

S: Thanks I guess

Still, that wasn’t a negative response. And Race figured hehad nothing to lose.

R: I wdn’t say no

S: Well I might

R: Wld you?

S: Are you stilldrunk?

Race snorted. He hadn’t had that much to drink. He was stilla little foggy but his headache was mostly gone and the room had stoppedspinning. If Spot was worried about taking advantage of a drunk guy then theydidn’t have a problem.

R: Hungover, nt drunk

S: And will you typein English?

R: Fine

It was an annoying condition to agree to – text speak wasn’tthat hard to understand and it was far quicker to type, Race was adamant – but itseemed like a small price to pay for whatever might be about to happen. Therewas no delay in a reply this time.

S: Then lock yourdoor and take off your clothes

There was a chance this was all a joke. Spot could beleading him on with the intention of humiliating him as retribution for themessages the night before but Race was hungover and he just couldn’t think itthrough without the world starting to tilt.

R: You serious?

He hoped the question would be enough to give Spot an out tofind some morality if this was all a big joke, but instead he got a far betteranswer.

S: No Skype no phonecalls no photos, just texts

S: But yeah, I’mserious

S: I need to get off

Race groaned. Given the choice he’d rather actually get tosleep with Spot but he wasn’t going to turn down the proposition. He wasn’twearing many clothes after the night before, he’d probably find them scatteredacross his room from the door to the bed, but he slipped off his boxers. If hewas going to do this, he was going to do it right.

R: Same

S: Clothes off?

R: Yeah

S: Tell me whatyou’re doing

Sometimes Race felt like he was in a polyamorous relationshipwith two other people: Spot, and Spot’s job. He was proud and supportive butthat didn’t mean he didn’t miss his boyfriend when he was away on businesstrips that lasted too long and were too frequent. They’d been together forseven years and Race had grown to love the domesticity and comfort – even ifthey’d started as friends-with-benefits who weren’t even really friends.

Thinking back over their relationship made him miss Spoteven more and soon he was subconscious reaching for his phone and sending atext.

R: Hey

Spot knew Race well by now. ‘Hey’ didn’t mean ‘hi’. ‘Hi’would have meant ‘hi’. ‘Hey’ meant ‘I want to talk to you.’ The message he sentback was an answer to the statement Race didn’t even need to say.

S: What’s up?

R: What are you doingright now?

Spot took a moment to appreciate the fact Race’s text speakhad gotten better over the years before looking around his rather Spartan hotelroom and sighing. He wanted to be home. Meetings were important for his job andhe knew that, but Race was important for his sanity.

S: Prepping for ameeting

It was partly true. It was what he was supposed to be doingbut he was more than grateful for the distraction Race was providing from staringat the ceiling and wishing he wasn’t in a the hotel of a conference centerseveral hours from home.

R: Want to prep forsomething else?

The insinuation seemed clear but they hadn’t done this sincethey’d officially gotten together and Spot wanted to make sure.

S: Race…?

R: You’re in yourhotel room?

S: Yeah

R: Lock the door andtake off your pants

The words had Spot grinning. It was what they’d alwaysmessaged each other with years ago when they’d wanted to start something. Hisdoor was already locked and he hadn’t bothered to get dressed that day yet, buthe still appreciated the old phrase. Even though he was far too far away fromRace, it meant him feel closer.

S: What are we doing?

He was being coy at this point. He knew exactly what theywere doing, but Race went along with it anyway.

R: Reminiscing. Forold time’s sake.

That was definitely something Spot could get on board with.

#newsies #newsies fanfiction #sprace #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #spot/race #prompt #anonymous

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mild-lunacy · 8 years

Text

What Characters Deserve: Projection vs Empathy

Projection is something I've long struggled with in fandom. I've actually recently reblogged an illustration of how it works, which is a bit over-the-top but nevertheless accurate. There's definitely a progression of attitudes, from the mildly transformative to the wildly appropriating. I'd like to note that it's all *natural*; I'm not saying there's a right or wrong way to be a fan, obviously. I'm just saying that I personally struggle with the predominant nature of this approach in fandom and the role it plays in typical fan discussions, because I think it leads to a lot of discourse about what went 'wrong' when canon fans are disappointed. It is a pervasive attitude, but one that's pretty much impossible to argue or push back against effectively. Also, the fact is that I would generally *prefer* there was more of an emphasis on empathy in reading or responding to fiction: that is, asking the question of 'how can I put myself into this fictional character's shoes' instead of asking, 'how can I put myself *into* this fictional character'.

For example, I'm a fan of slashing characters, because for me it starts with the canon and plays with it based on its unexplored potentials in fanon. Sometimes people slashed the canon randomly or invented OCs, just for fun, but the history of slash is primarily one of a romantic reading of existing close male friendships. Conversely, I get frustrated by pure queer headcanons of het canon source texts lately, which seem to happen through a fundamentally different process than the way classic slash was done. There's a difference in approach between 'this is fun and/or it fits' (empathizing) and 'this is how it *should* be' (projecting). The latter would state that queerness is good and *therefore* a given canon character is queer (or a POC, or a different gender), even if the whole story is actually based heavily around a het romance (this is the case in 'The Scorpio Races'). That headcanon is thus absolutely independent of the text, and involves pure projection, often combined with a sort of pushy, moralistic bent. Suddenly, any tiny thing about the characterization that's not, I dunno, completely boring and meaningless is a 'queer sign' to be decoded; and of course that's fine, when there's actual queer-coding. It's just... sometimes there simply *isn't* any. One would need to transport themselves to a less ideal, less comfortable universe to appreciate that book. That's a worthwhile task, in my opinion, given the book is well-written and otherwise worthwhile.

It's worth meeting the story where it lives. To pretend there is coding where none exists would be to strip the text of its context and reduce it to a purely modern and 'good' or moral text that has a properly extensive and broad amount of representation. However, as a fan I'm all about appreciating what's there. If I can't, why would I even be a fan? Consequently, it's hard for me to relate to the idea of characters who 'deserve better'.

I realize I get a bit knee-jerky about it, which is ironic, I suppose, 'cause people I related to and was friends with in HP fandom said this about Draco Malfoy all the time. And I guess I try to excuse it and say Kavinsky isn't like Draco to *me* for various reasons, and not every antagonist or character is equivalent and they certainly don't all deserve the same things. I'm pretty blase about minor characters of any sort 'deserving' any more development, especially in narratives that don't rely on an ensemble cast or are otherwise telling a different story. I'm even relatively chill about the storylines of major characters not turning out how I wanted, or even how anyone would want. I'm not even talking about stuff like explicitly canon Johnlock; look, Gansey and Blue are the major het couple (and probably major couple, period) of The Raven Cycle, and Maggie Stiefvater said they still can't actually kiss at the end, 'cause it's still true that if she kisses her true love, he'd die. The problem you learned about on the first page is still there on the last page (so... worse than BBC Sherlock in that sense). Everyone in fandom hates that and rejects that reality to substitute their own, it seems-- except me. I'm okay with it (and it's kind of frustrating 'cause it's easy to feel pretty deeply isolated even among fellow shippers, 'cause literally *no* Blue/Gansey fan seems to accept what Stiefvater said).

It's not because I don't care about Bluesey (or Johnlock, obviously). I ship them both hardcore. You could say it's that I'm just... a huge canon-whore, more than like 95% of fandom, and that's true. But it's also true that I think I relate to fiction differently. Partly its that anyone who ships or likes Bluesey at all seems to want it to be happy and to get emotional satisfaction from canon. That's the 'warm fuzzy' orientation to stories, as Julad once wrote; I'm 'cold prickly' all the way. I'm cool with implicit resolutions and subtext. I'm also relatively cool with not being 'satisfied' directly at all, given it's not too bleak or depressing. Besides that, I generally don't project onto the characters; I *empathize*. I value their story, their needs and wishes. I accept that they are not me. I'm *interested* in that difference. So if they're satisfied by the end, I'm satisfied. I don't tell fictional characters what's supposed to be enough for them, you know?

Possibly, an even better example than the Bluesey kiss issue is how many people in the Raven Cycle fandom have said Blue 'should have' been gay, and either have been platonic with Gansey or have Gansey be a girl. Like, I've literally seen people claim they were 'robbed' (though perhaps a bit ironically). This sort of projection is not atypical of fandom attitudes; it's probably more correct to say it's actually typical, but this is an extreme case. Seeing canon Johnlock is obviously not the same as aggressively genderbending Gansey and then blaming the author for not doing that, because, well, the narrative itself supports Johnlock. It's not out of thin air or based entirely on wish fulfillment. However, *some* arguments aren't that different in kind, because naturally, fandom discourse is what it is, as is fandom in general.

Of course, you could argue that all this is splitting hairs (and I know it). It's certainly vaguely ironic 'cause you could certainly also argue certain critiques of BBC Sherlock I have sympathized with essentially say (not in so many words) that John and Sherlock's characters deserved better. How do I justify this?

First, just 'cause I sympathize and integrate other people's viewpoints doesn't mean it's my natural response. It's also different 'cause in BBC Sherlock, the story arc is deeply integrated with John and Sherlock's relationship. To the degree I do wish there was explicitly canon Johnlock, my concern is that the story wasn't all it could have been based on its own structure, not that my favorite romance or character got short shrift. But then, I can see how other people feel it's just a ship like their ship, and given they don't see the arc-- and the arc remained subtextual/implicit rather than part of the surface text-- I can't expect everyone to share my context or to read texts correctly when the show-runners (more or less) didn't read the (potential of the) text correctly either. Or at least, it certainly seems very possible at this point. At the same time, while I'm tempted to say JKR didn't read the potential of Draco Malfoy correctly, I certainly hesitate to do so, 'cause I really am a canon-whore to the end. There's definitely some cognitive dissonance involved here, 'cause people's favorite argument about Kavinsky in TDT is that Stiefvater didn't understand her antagonist's potential or read her own character correctly. And that upsets me! But how could I say this is true sometimes but not others, given I love all these stories and think these are great (if flawed) narratives.

I dunno if I really thought Draco Malfoy 'deserved better', and ditto for John and Sherlock, anyway. I don't really think in those terms, even if I sympathize. I think in terms of 'does this make sense' or 'does this work in context', and if it doesn't make sense at first, I try harder. I also just enjoy complexity in characterization, which generally involves some unresolved or even unresolvable threads... granted the narrative doesn't constantly set up a resolution (like Sherlock's constant tango with 'romantic entanglement'). In general, I like characters who struggle and make mistakes, without necessarily needing them to be overtly 'fixed' or corrected, though. I don't need, say, John Watson to always be admirable, or Sherlock Holmes to be the perfect consulting detective who really does value 'cold reason' above all other things. I think I just like characters that are *interesting*, storylines which are dramatic and unusual.

The major way I think characters 'deserve better' is if they're underutilized. A lot of people say this about, say, Noah Czerny in The Raven Cycle books, but he was a huge part of the plot! Huge. The only concern is that he didn't get a happy ending, even though, you know... dude is *dead*. It's too late. Sometimes there is no way out, and facts are facts: Noah is always dead. And sometimes there *is* another solution, but the author thinks the difficult one is more interesting, unexpected and creative: so Blue and Gansey still can't kiss after the end of TRK, and John Watson hit Sherlock even though he didn't absolutely *have* to in TLD. And sometimes, well, *sometimes* the story the writers are telling us is *really* not the story you may have wanted, and they take the characters in a nonsensical or unworkable or just-- badly executed direction. That's sort of what happened with BBC Mary Morstan, I think. Every character deserves to be written well, and the truth is that sometimes they... aren't. To be frank, usually I don't care if it's a minor character or the plot or character arc of the main characters is well enough served. I don't have the mental energy to care specifically about minor female characters just because they're female; the thing is, though, is that I don't particularly need to *project* onto female characters to feel at home. I don't feel like I need a female avatar in any given story, but especially if I'm fond of one of the leads. So for me, the question of how they treat Mary or Molly and how they treat, say, Anderson isn't that far off. Of course, as far as I can tell, this is atypical. By and large, people want to read about themselves, and by 'themselves' they mean... whatever is the next best thing to being literal.

I don't begrudge people this, really. I treat it as a fact. People's interest in fiction is mostly useful for them for very personal reasons... even escapist or fantasy/romance fiction, or perhaps *especially* that. Most fantasy fans seem to want to escape into a world where they exist and matter, as a general rule of thumb. A world where they are important, perhaps stronger, more beautiful or smarter than in reality, but.. present. To be clear: I've never felt like this. I've just wanted to escape into a place that was truly *different* and magical. Not that I didn't want to be powerful, but I just never felt particularly constrained by the facts of my actual life, except insofar as they were what I wanted to escape. In the end, those facts were boring and I'd easily forget them at the first opportunity. That said, there's a great variety of female characters with many of my personality traits in fantasy novels (INFPs are probably one of the most typical fantasy protagonists), so.... Who knows, I might feel differently if I was a fan of superhero comics, PC games or even just mainstream movies. I just... wasn't. You probably also get a different attitude reading epic fantasy than those comics or mostly watching TV at a formative age. Although I did watch sitcoms growing up, it wasn't anything I was invested in emotionally (I loved Star Trek, Buffy and X-Files, all of which obviously had strong female characters but also other kinds of characters). Maybe I was a bit spoiled.

Anyway, it is true that stuff like sitcom type shows on TV and superhero comics are obviously directed at certain audiences: there's a lot of sorting of titles by type of protagonist and expected audience. With hundreds of superhero titles, you start to want one for your 'team'. You don't really do that with epic fantasy. You just have the genre, and fun tropes within the genre... and a lot of generic Mary Sues, probably. With science fiction, the whole point is to mess with the established social customs and experiences in the Real World, so there's no point in transferring things wholesale. Everything is up for grabs by definition, though in retrospect I'd have definitely enjoyed if it was more gay.

In the end, I think it's clear that human subjectivity creates projection when imagination (and one's sense of self) is involved at all. Naturally, both these things are heavily involved in fiction. That's sort of a reflection of mirroring: the fundamental ability people have to mimic others' emotional states or body-language. I'm not entirely trying to fight windmills, nor do I wish to destroy this dynamic: I just think that empathy could fill the role of projection, and I personally would certainly enjoy fandom a lot more if it did. It would be great if people were more interested in characters (and other people!) for the ways in which they're different, but still *human*. What a wonderful world that would be. And, I admit, a more comfortable environment for me personally, with less cognitive dissonance to go around (not that this is anyone's concern but mine, of course).

For a concrete example of what would change with more emphasis on empathy, there would be less heteronormativity, I think, 'cause people wouldn't so strenuously project their own personal and cultural norms onto characters they like. On the other hand there would also be less yelling about headcanons on how a character is actually and/or 'should be' canonically queer/black/etc, and any dissent is unacceptable. Perhaps with a loosening of the bonds of heteronormativity, the need for such assertive pushback would be obviated. More fans could... relax, maybe. At least, I know I would. People are people, so there'll always be wank; I'm just talking about how *more* empathy chosen instead of projection would mean *less* fan conflict and heteronormativity, among other things.

I don't know *how* to actually positively support or encourage empathy rather than projection, aside from being in a teaching role with children, while their relationships with fiction are still forming. Nevertheless, I wish there was something I could do productively. As it is, I rant and ramble about this at intervals to let off steam, but I'd like to make a difference. I don't want to change human nature... but it'd be nice to encourage certain responses over others. To some degree, empathy is important in real life now more than ever before, since the world is so connected and so very tense about it. The question of 'how do we appreciate the Other without appropriating or dismissing?' is an important one, even if its fannish version is just one fangirl's eternal lament.

#fandom meta #pointless rambles #characterization #reader response #oh fandom #raven cycle #hp feels #draco love #sherlock feels #narrative #queer issues #bluesey ❤️#me myself and i

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thedemonkingamaimon · 8 years

Text

Animosity and Conniption - Ao No Exorcist fic

If you wanna read a bad fic about Amaimon kicking off, now’s your chance!

Anyone someone said they’d read it if I wrote it so here’s my little fic. I’m a bit out of practice (especially where this fandom is concerned) so excuse any characterisation errors, unexplained references, etc. This is a bit of a messy fic in terms of layout and continuity, but I hope you’ll like it/give it a go anyway!

This is quite a long one and has my headcanons mixed in so hmu if you need anything explaining

Overview: Amaimon has been in Gehenna for a couple of months (not necessarily by choice) and this is his first day back in Assiah with Mephisto. As pleased as he is to be back, he doesn’t think Mephisto is quite as excited as he is

Warnings/themes: Blood, fighting, domination (non-sexual), violence, swearing, hurt, distress

“ANIUE!!”

Mephisto barely had time to draw breath before he was tackled by a bundle of green hair and tattered clothing - namely his younger brother.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming back” he said, carefully detaching the clingy demon from his person.

“I ran into some obstacles” Amaimon said, burying himself in his older brothers chest once more. “I didn’t mean to stay away for that long”

“Yes, well, you’re back now” he gave the younger a quick squeeze and held him at arms length. “You’re in tatters. What happened to the rest of your clothes?”

It was true that his outfit was somewhat incomplete today. Firstly, he’d left in a hurry, but secondly, he hadn’t really been bothering with appearances and completed outfits much over the past few weeks especially. His gloves, waistcoat, and tie were missing and honestly he didn’t know where they were any more than his brother did. In response to him, he merely shrugged.

Mephisto sighed at him. “Well, take your coat and shoes off: I don’t want you making my office look like a doss house”

Amaimon did as he was asked without question. He still felt a bit odd, but it was a hell of a lot better being here than it was at the palace. He’d had a bit of a rough time of it lately, and he felt well within his rights to feel a bit sorry for himself.

“Your nails are getting dangerous again” Mephisto said, taking his brothers hand. “You know the rules while you’re here: you need to keep them short... What’s that face for?”

“I, um, got clipped a few days after I got back to Gehenna, is all”

“You’re a fool for playing up where you’ll get caught” he tapped his face sharply. “I won’t be harsh like our dear father, you know that”

It always felt odd afterwards, like the trimming of nails also trimmed away some of the function of the hands temporarily.

Amaimon sat clenching and unclenching his fists. Mephisto laughed at him.

“I admit I’ve missed your strange ways, little brother”

“So I should hope so” he mumbled, still very interested in his hands. “I got banded too, while I was home”

“My word Amaimon, whatever did you do to get yourself clipped, beaten, and banded, eh? And all in between your multiple incidents of ilness” he sat back in his chair, shaking his head slightly. “At least it explains why you were gone for so long”

Amaimon looked over at him, trying to see if he was actually angry with him. No, didn’t look like it. ‘I often think he hates father more than most humans’ Amaimon thought.

“I just got into a few arguments. Fights... Uh, what’s the next one up from fights?”

“Battles?” Mephisto suggested.

Amaimon shrugged. “Anyway, I didn’t start off well so father wasn’t best pleased with me. I got worse from him than I got from any of the fights. Plus Luci was ill and I’d broken Beelzebubs nose again, so that didn’t work in my favour either”

Mephisto didn’t look impressed. He didn’t much like hearing about the family. He’d been away for so long that he felt it was probably a different world down there now. Still, Lucifer being ill and Beelzebub having his nose smashed... Some things never change.

“You haven’t said why you got banded”

“Well, I don’t know. Could’ve been anything. It’s not important” he put his hands down, looking at his brother properly. “He made me go to a social with him too. Made me get an outfit tailored for it and then got pissed off at me for ruining the coat”

“Hmph. How was that for you?”

“The bloke there showed me his garden. It was impressive. Put it forward for a Royal Seal. But then me and Astaroth and the twins played up when I got back so I got bubbled on the throne the next day”

Mephisto rubbed his temples. “You really are a disaster, Amaimon. When did you get so careless?”

Amaimon decided that question was rhetorical.

Transitioning between realms, as well as his recent illness, had made Amaimon feel quite exhausted, and he didn’t even realise he’d fallen asleep until he woke up. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, feeling a little disorientated

“Welcome back to the land of the living” Mephisto said from over by the desk.

Amaimon merely grumbled, knuckling his eyes and trying to wake himself up.

“Oh yes, I forgot to mention: I’m going out tonight”

Amaimon stopped dead. “But I’ve only just got back”

“Yes, I know. I can’t very well cancel”

“Why not?” Amaimon snapped, suddenly feeling much more awake. “You’re always happy enough to cancel on me”

“Oh don’t start. It’s a few hours, that’s all. It won’t kill you to be alone. I daresay it will benefit you after the eight weeks you’ve just had”

Amaimon didn’t seem impressed. He flopped back against the sofa with his arms crossed over his chest. “Fine, piss off then”

Mephisto glared at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh what do you care?” he shouted, quite accidentally. He suddenly felt like he’d put himself in the firing line. He bent his head slightly, refusing to look at the other. He suddenly grabbed his throat as an odd sort of whimper escaped him. He was horrified at himself for that.

“Are you crying?”

“Of course I’m not bloody crying!” he shouted on purpose this time and jumped out of his seat. “Why would I be crying?”

“Because you’re a mystery, my dear little King” Mephisto smiled slightly and tapped him on the nose - and quickly received quite the punch to his face.

“Don’t treat me like a child!” Amaimon was trembling slightly, a low growl coming from deep in his throat.

Mephisto remained unphased on the outside. “Well, my dear, if you didn’t act like a child, maybe I wouldn’t treat you like one”

“Well if you didn’t treat me like a child, maybe I wouldn’t act like one!” Amaimon shouted, which was a little counterproductive.

“I wouldn’t be quite so sure of that” he wiped the trail of blood from the cut at the corner of his mouth. “What, can’t you cope with being left alone now?”

Amaimon’s growl broke into an outright roar, and he sunk his fangs into Mephisto’s left arm.

“Why you little-!” It took a bit of struggling to detach the smaller demon from his arm. It left quite an impressive amount of blood for the size of the wound. He delivered quite a smack to Amaimon’s face. “What was that all about?”

Amaimon let out another screaming growl. This one didn’t seem to calm down - it dragged out and juddered and restarted, as though he was having a rant, just without the words. He’d stepped away from his brother and was pacing back and forth, gripping his hair in frustration as he yelled and cried.

Eventually Mephisto grabbed hold of Amaimon, shocking him into silence. It was almost like someone had pressed pause on him. He’d been caught mid roar, and his top lip was still raised on one side, like a dogs would be.

“Are you finished?”

Amaimon swallowed heavily and growled again. “NO I’M NOT BLOODY FINISHED!”

“Maybe you should sit down and take a break”

“I thought I said not to treat me like a child! I’m not small any more, why do you always treat me like a silly little kid?!”

“You might not be little, but you’re not big either” Mephisto grabbed him under the chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “Is this just you being jealous that I’m going out?”

A lesser man would have crumbled at the roar that followed that statement. Mephisto stood back, choosing to be amused at his brothers behaviour, rather than concerned about it. He was certain this is what he’d been like in Gehenna, and what had got him into so much bother. He certainly knew how to throw his voice around.

“Look at you now, throwing a tantrum over something so trivial. I thought you said you weren’t a child any more?”

“FUCK OFF you know what I meant!!” Steam was radiating off him like a rugby player on the pitch. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, could feel himself slowly losing control of his senses. “You all treat me like a kid, you and Luci and the twins and even Beelzebub gives it a go! And the less said about Azazel - well you weren’t there, were you? You’re NEVER there, you’re always leaving me! You keep- you keep just-” He lost his train of thought, having resumed his frantic pacing, growling all the while. “He was acting really weird, you know, Azazel. Suddenly seemed to be there all the time and then didn’t want father to unband me. Sticking around like he had something to say, which he didn’t because he never does, and-”

“Amaimon. We all know Azazel wanted to mentor you. Did you forget this little fact while you were mixed up in your own misdeeds?”

“Well what’s that got to do with anything?! He wasn’t my mentor; you were! Are! Oh for fucks sake, are, were? I don’t even know any more, you’re messing with my head!”

He’d started to calm down a little. Mephisto tried to touch him and very nearly lost a hand in the process.

“I think you need to stop roaring now, don’t you?”

“No I don’t!” he was suddenly very riled again, and set into a whole new screaming fit. His throat hurt quite a lot at this point, but he pretended not to notice. “We’re not finished here! I want you to fight me!” He grabbed hold of the lapels of Mephisto’s jacket. “Fight me! Fight me, you treacherous bastard!!”

“Amaimon you know full well I could knock you off in three minutes if I wanted to”

“I don’t care!” he roared. “We’re not done, I want to fight you! A proper fight, no powers or lightning or time stops or whatever it is you do, none of that! Get over yourself and fight me!”

Mephisto laughed. “You’re a strange little creature, Amaimon”

Amaimon growled and smacked his forehead hard against his brothers. It made his eyes smart, and it seemed to be having the same effect on the victim of the attack.

“Hehe, ok. Let’s scuffle, little brother”

It wasn’t long before they’d gotten themselves into a proper little match. There was a fair amount of injuries, even with Mephisto holding back. They kept to their word and used just brute force - which evidently was more than enough.

Amaimon soon grew quite rampant. He was a big fan of his teeth right now, especially since he didn’t have claws to rely on for quick attacks just now.

“Enough of the teeth, Amaimon!” Mephisto growled, narrowly avoiding another bite. “Did they turn you into a piranha while you were at the palace?”

Amaimon shrugged, wiping his eyebrow to stop the blood from getting in his eyes. Mephisto thought he was taking a break and so was caught completely off guard when Amaimon jumped on his back, biting his ear hard. He had his arm round Mephisto’s neck, trying to keep him still.

“Hey, what did I just say?” he pulled Amaimon’s hair hard. “When did you get so nippy?”

“I can bite your neck instead if you like” he offered. Letting another demon drink from your neck was something of a trust seal in Gehenna, and was seen as an honour. However, it could also be used in fights as a form of violation, if one felt like doing so. It wasn’t common, however, as it was very much frowned upon, even by some of the fiercest of fighters.

The mood had lightened considerably in the past 90 seconds. In fact, Amaimon was very nearly laughing.

“What, without my permission?” he reached back and grabbed the younger, skillfully flipping him over his shoulder so he landed flat on his back in front of him.

“FUCK!” Amaimon cried, having whacked his ankle quite hard on a nearby chair in the process.

Mephisto tilted Amaimon’s head back. “Are you ready to call it a day? You’re going to wear yourself out”

“I’m just taking a breath” he gently took hold of Mephisto’s wrists. “Just taking a breath...”

“You don’t give up, do you? You’re like a little kid, you know, trying to get the last word and needing to be entertained all the time”

Amaimon’s eyes darkened and he sat up quickly. “Say that again, I dare you”

“You can be a bit like a child, surely you know that”

Mephisto almost jumped at the screaming roar that suddenly split through the air, coupled with a pair of hands round his throat.

“I told you to stop calling me a child!” he growled.

Mephisto grabbed his wrists. “Calm down now, I wasn’t being aggressive”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT!” he let go and shook his arms free. “You always ruin things just when they’re getting good”

Mephisto’s own eyes darkened. Amaimon had started in on another roaring session. Honestly, surely this wasn’t just jealousy? And even if it was, that didn’t make it any less of a problem.

Mephisto slapped Amaimon hard, which provoked him enough to pounce. Soon they found themselves in a very different struggle to their previous one. They’d made it back to their feet and the furniture was making good use as landing points and backstops.

Losing his footing on one mad grab, Mephisto fell to the ground, bringing Amaimon with him. Oh how undignified the whole thing was - but one couldn’t really think about that when they had blood in their eyes and all over themselves.

Amaimon stayed on all fours, growling violently. He was just as bloodied as Mephisto, and he was all a-quiver with the adrenaline of their fight. Mephisto took a moment to compose himself, and Amaimon rose to his knees in unison with him. For a moment they just looked at each other, watching the blood drip down each other’s faces.

“Ready to stop yet, baby brother?”

Amaimon roared and pounced, starting another scuffle. They were as undignified as one could possibly imagine, struggling in varying styles and positions in their mission to shut the other one up. Amaimon bared his teeth.

“Bite me again and see what happens, I dare you” he hissed

And so he did, biting hard over the original bite from the start of their fight. Mephisto growled at him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you”

He’d been holding back somewhat up until that point. Now he used his full strength to floor the other, getting on his hands and knees above him. Amaimon was a little taken aback and tried to sit up to work out where best to put his legs to kick himself free. Mephisto shoved him down despite his growling and little roars, grabbing him with a hand under the jaw. Amaimon looked at him as he struggled, and Mephisto grinned. Amaimon knew that smile all too well, and he tried harder to break free, to no avail. Mephisto forced Amaimon’s head back, laughed slightly, and ducked his head.

Amaimon screamed as a sharp set of fangs sunk into his neck. The assailant bit harder.

“STOP! STOP-! GWAAAAAAH-RAAAH! STOP!!”

Amaimon had drunk from people’s necks before, but he’d never had anyone drink from him. He never imagined it would hurt this much. His head was being held still, but that didn’t stop him from kicking and trying to push the elder away. He was still quite determined to put up a fight. But that pain, and whatever that other feeling with it was...

“STOP IT PLEASE! IT HURTS, PLEASE STOP!”

His screams helped him none, so he gave up and instead struggled weakly and tried not to let the cries escape his throat.

After what felt like hours, Mephisto moved back, licking the traces of blood from his teeth.

“I had wondered, you know, if all of that sugar you eat had made its way into your bloodstream” he said, standing up. “It’s certainly sweet”

He looked down at him, slowly rubbing his lower lip with his thumb. Amaimon was shaking all over, his teeth had clenched and his eyes were watering. ‘Quite a satisfying result’ Mephisto thought.

“I think our battle is over, don’t you?” When he nodded, Mephisto hauled him to his feet. “Look at the states we’ve got ourselves in to. I think we both need to go and clean up and change. Go on”

He gestured with his thumb to Amaimon’s bedroom. Amaimon didn’t waste any time, but he was unsteady on his feet.

As soon as he’d closed his bedroom door, he felt like his chest was going to collapse. He didn’t know what he was feeling. The only word he could think of was grief, and that didn’t really seem to fit. His room was too quiet. It was deafening. He shook his head and made his way over to the en suite. He turned the light on and looked at himself in the mirror above the sink. For the most part is wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he’d thought. Not bad at all really. His eyes quickly located the fang marks on his neck, and he couldn’t stop looking. Something built up inside him and he couldn’t control it.

“GWAAAAAH!!!” his fist collided with the mirror, and he felt it splinter under his knuckles before it completely shattered. “GWAAAH!!”

He looked at his hand, now pierced with shards of glass. He felt like he was boiling over with no way to lower the heat.

“Amaimon!” Mephisto had appeared in the doorway, having heard the commotion. He sighed at the sight of the mirror, but a quick wave of the hand fixed that problem. “Let me see your hand”

Amaimon screamed at him. “FUCK OFF!!”

“You can’t very well go around with glass in your hand, can you?”

Amaimon didn’t know how to respond. He was trembling and he held his head and screamed again. “GO AWAY! Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not until later” he grabbed hold of Amaimon roughly, guiding him back into his room and sitting him down on the bed. “You will sit still and let me deal with your hand”

Amaimon watched him produce a first aid kit. He didn’t trust him. Not a bit. So he screamed.

“Stop it now. You’ll have a reason to scream in a minute” he said, producing a tray and tweezers from the first aid kit and grabbing Amaimon’s hand. “I don’t have any local so you’ll just have to cope”

Amaimon tried to stay still, but it really wasn’t easy. He watched carefully as the shards of glass were removed from his hand. It was a lot more painful than punching the mirror in the first place. He still managed to control himself as the wounds were cleaned and bandaged.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Mephisto closed the tin and stood up. He took Amaimon’s face in his hand. “I know you’re upset about me going out on your first night back. We’ll do something tomorrow evening, ok?”

He kissed him briefly on the nose. Amaimon stared at him for half a second, and then broke down sobbing. It came on suddenly and he couldn’t make himself stop. He suddenly really did feel like a child. He tried to cover his mouth but his hands were shaking so much that it was ineffective.

“I d-don’t believe you! I don’t believe you, I don’t believe you, I don’t believe you!”

“Amaimon, you’re getting hysterical”

He knew that all too well, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t calm his rapid breathing and his shaking hands. He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his outburst and he certainly couldn’t think of what would make it better.

“If this is a ploy to get me to stay in tonight...” he placed a hand on Amaimon’s forehead. Amaimon tried to roar at him, but it was overtaken by his cries and so ended up just sounding like fear. “You’re very hot. Maybe you’re getting ill. Get your bloodied clothes off and go to sleep”

Amaimon didn’t move. “..What have you done to me??”

“You’re working yourself up into a state over nothing. Come now, you’ve drunk from my neck before and I’ve never acted like this over it”

“That’s completely different, and you know it!” his voice was just a little bit stronger. “You let me do that. I didn’t hold you down and do it as part of a fight”

“You’re being too sensitive” he ruffled Amaimon’s hair. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Get your old kit off”

It took him a good 7 minutes to compose himself enough to get undressed. He had no idea what he was feeling but he certainly didn’t like it. He was very slow and had only just crawled under the covers when the door opened again.

“Ah, so you do know how to do as you’re told then” he set a glass of water down on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking his hair gently (and making him blink a bit in the process). “My funny little brother. You do know that you’re only treated as the baby because you’re cute and no one bonded well enough with Beelzebub to pass the role onto him, don’t you?”

Amaimon didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at him. He hated himself for thinking it, but he rather wished he was back in Gehenna.

“You’ve tired yourself out, haven’t you? I knew you would. You put up quite the fight earlier. I was rather impressed. Did you do any executions while you were in Gehenna?”

“A few” he mumbled. “When are you leaving?”

“In about twenty minutes”

Amaimon pulled a pillow close against his chest and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. “Night then”

Mephisto stood up. “Get some rest, little brother. We’ll talk again in the morning”

#my writing #amaimon #ao no exorcist #mephisto pheles #fanfiction

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