#i have nothing else to add. thank you anon for adding fuel to my fire of insanity

[kqluckity]

Imagine q!Luzu helping qq getting over his fear of water from being trapped by the federation and q helping Luzu with the repercussions of having a rouge ai in his head ;-;

oh man... oh MAN. now i will think about this forever

[verosikastrikerstellaexcuser]

completely agree with your sto-litz vs Husker-Dust analysis- and wanted to add another little thing that just...kills my possible enjoyment of the former even without the horribly abusive context- the show never bothers to show them having a good time together. Never bothered to show them as friends.

Either it's Stolas harassing Blitzo, him being visibly aggravated and....angst. Lots and lots of angst. Like even if that owl wasn't the literal worse why would I enjoy a ship that....doesn't enjoy themselves? Like Hazbin's latter half being so rushed affected all the meaningful interactions- Husk/Dust included- but I still got to see some genuine moments from them post-episode 4 where they were friends- like Angel dropping Nifty on Husk's head and going full "deal with it bro" or them doing target practice together before the war- those little glimpses of comradery and playfulness you see in people that like the other. Y'know, friends.

And when the show DOES try to show them as friends it's just....so bad. Like the whole childhood friends mess that I won't touch with a 20 meter stick and episode 2x2- ie Stolas ignoring his missing child (again) in favor of getting onto his obsession's pants LITERALLY EPISODES after their whole"break up" moment in Ozzies.... these two can't even be friends, how the hell I am supposed to believe they can be a couple? Again, it's just not fun to watch.

Ah thanks anon! Glad you liked it. I know people have issues with H*skerdust and I really do get why as their ship involves a lot of contentious topics. And Hazbin was so so sooooo insanely rushed. You are basically forced to fill in bits using your own head which you shouldn't have to. But, it still works to me.

I think if you're doing unrequited attention -> requited attention in a story then it can be really tricky to get it right. Especially when it involves very sexually charged attention and not more reserved attention. But I'd say that making Angel a forced sex worker who's being hypersexual to cope is a lot better than making someone with immense class power and who is sexually repressed then go crazy and become obsessive about one specific lower class person he met as a kid and had his dad buy him to entertain him likeee ????

Husk sees through what Angel's doing with his act and he sees some of himself and how he is trapped too. So he pushes him to be better and once they reconcile with Loser Baby he continues to encourage Angel to be better and only THEN does he start to reciprocate affection or admiration or any positive kind of feelings, only when Angel changes and shows that he can be something other than a pot of lewd jokes towards Husk. They they reach that moment of understanding. They become happier together. They don't just make each other actively worse. They had angst but they overcame it. I could see them also having further angst potentially yet overcoming it again in a believable way.

While St*litz? Yeah it really is just misery misery and more misery and there's nothing wrong with making a ship that involves misery. The problem is lying to us that a miserable ship isn't miserable. We as the audience see so much damn misery and little else like you said, yet we're supposed to love their ship and believe deep down they're madly in love in a way that can totally be healthy and they're a great end game? They always seem one disaster away from a huge emotional blowout if they're not having sex, and everything constantly being sexual is only adding fuel to the fire of their issues. They have nothing in common. Huskerdust both have addiction issues, soul contracts, seem to like similar things I'm sure Angel would gladly play poker with Husk or they would go bar hopping together etc. While you have a booksy library nerd and then you have a guy who's just not into any of that. And that could still work but they need to establish other things they DO have in common. Right now we've only really seen the differences.

What would St*litz do if hanging out together? I feel like everything St*las would suggest would just have Blitz disinterested and disrespecting it lol. St*las has been obsessed with Blitz since birth like some kind of weird fixation. Love at first sight... as a child? Wtf? That look St*las gives Blitz all blushy as a child is while he knew NOTHING about the actual Blitz and who he is. That's the kind of crush as a child you grow the hell out of to still be thinking about 1 day as a child years later to that extent is insane and not healthy.

While Blitz meanwhile never thought of him again. Then only had sex with him when they met again as adults out of pity after seducing and tying him up to distract him so he could escape his house. And may I also add that St*las put that idea into his head to flirt with the weird "You're here to ravish me" and "nefarious intentions" comments.

St*las makes this face as he says hes going to take Blitz to his room and handle him. And then says all those comments to Blitz while the two of them are now alone in St*las' bedroom. St*las. Why did you decide to take Blitz to your bedroom. Why did you make that face. Why did you say those comments to someone you had only met as a child for one day and then they broke into your house. Its apparently all not serious, those weird sexually charged comments you began making towards someone you met once as a child and barely knew??? Then. Then why say them at all. Whats the joke? Why would you tell who's basically a stranger alone with you in your bedroom with you a joke like that? That's such a bizzare fucking thing to do.

So then Blitz starts to get physical and flirts back and St*las says he was just kidding with the flirting/jokes (the writing for St*las is so inconsistent and dogshit I s2g) and he tries to back out. In a panic over the book and escaping Blitz keeps going and ignores St*las wanting to back out (fucking GROSS that they wrote Blitz as doing this). Then St*las gives into it? Its just so fucking awkward and gross feeling that entire scene. And its the foundation for their entire adult relationship going forwards. EW. Husk and Angel's foundation is Husk getting him to snap out of being hypersexual and boundary crossing for both their sake's. Blitz and St*las, they never seem to make each other better they just seem to be miserable and constantly lie to each other. They barely seem to know or care what the other wants and needs.

Blitz being around St*las just encourages St*las' insane hypersexual behaviors which bring out the worst in him because yeah those are harassing behaviors and have a weird racial/species fetishizing undertone. For Angel they were a way of pretending he really did like being a sexual object and that's why when Husk called it enough and said he should recognize that his situation is bad instead of trying to pretend he likes it he stopped; Husk wasn't the thing actually motivating the issues. While Blitz absolutely is with St*las, St*las is unhealthily obsessed with him. And that motivates him to abuse his power and to ignore his daughter's needs. St*las shouldn't be around Blitz because it clearly causes him to act in ways which hurt others and himself because he clearly doesn't know how to act right towards Blitz in any capacity. His attraction is not normal or healthy.

[cowboycakes]

The Strategy

Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Reader

Synopsis: The forest was the last place you thought you'd find yourself infatuated with someone you barely knew - especially not your cocky prisoner.

Themes: angst, flirting, guilty love, big plot twist

Warnings: kissing and suggestive language, bullying / teasing, mentions of death, some anxious thinking, light alcohol and tobacco use, profanity. reader uses she/her pronouns. s4 spoilers.

Word Count: 5.7k

Anon (🐸)'s Request: Hi ! Can I request a Zeke x fem reader imagine/one-shot? Reader is a captain for the survey corp and long time veteran. She is really intelligent and is a strategist for the corp. They kind of hate each other but have a lot of chemistry but start bonding before the forest incident. Sorry if that isn't specific enough and too vague.

On occasion, you tended to be so logical that it ruined your life. There was no room in your mind for daydreams, love, or speculation. Fate was false - most things in life were completely arbitrary. That was the way you’d trained yourself to think. Not because you enjoyed it, only because it made it easier to survive.

This way of thinking is a result of your lifetime with the Corps. The award of a Captain’s position was the fruit of your labor, along with being revered for your ability to strategize. Many of the most important and most successful missions in recent years had been planned by you. But, the bubbling tension and division within the walls have thrown you for a loop. You’ve attempted to collaborate with Levi in recent weeks to try to pin down any conflict - anything you could do to calm the storm and keep your comrades safe would be worth it.

Instead of being able to act on whatever plans you’d developed, you’d been assigned to the most bizarre mission you’d ever taken part in: babysitting some man in his late twenties, all the way out in a forest filled with towering redwood trees. This mystery man was apparently not to be trusted, he was Eren’s half-brother from Marley and the holder of the beast titan. He’d done tremendous damage to the Corps in the past. His intentions and motives now remained mysterious, but one thing was for sure: his loyalties lied with Eren, not with the Scouts.

You were disappointed and terrified all together. Being so far away from the action left both you and your comrades vulnerable. But, Levi insisted you needed to confine this man far away from society. And although you were a captain, whatever Levi says usually goes.

The forest wasn’t so bad upon your arrival. Damp pine needles that covered the ground coated the air in a sweet aroma. The blanket of shade given off by the trees was temperate in the summer heat. The tents you’d been provided with were sturdy, insulated, and a dark shade of green that complimented the woodland setting. Above all, you were accompanied by 30 trained soldiers and a shipment of high-quality Marleyan wine.

The entirety of your first day in the forest was spent unpacking and setting up your living quarters. Stars now peak through the canopy of branches above, and a cold breeze ruffles the millions of leaves surrounding the camp. The air was chilly despite the heat that blazed earlier in the day.

The cot you’d assembled in your tent is comfortable enough, but the grey sheets you’d just stretched over the mattress still smell stale. You conjure up the idea of going for a walk while your blankets air out. The musty scent sure wasn’t going to lull you to sleep.

Your timid feet crunch on the ground through the forest for a while, away from the camp. The mist of your breath is tangible in front of your face - the light jacket you’d brought wasn’t going to be enough to keep your goosebumps at bay. It’s much more intimidating out here at night than you’d expected. Darkness brought mystery to the gaps between each tree. And the sheer amount of trees beyond the campsite is dizzying, their height is even more difficult to process. They add a sense of company to your walk, although you can’t tell if they are peaceful observers or prying sets of eyes.

It’s surprisingly quiet out here, no animal or human alike made noise at this hour. The silence leads you to pick up on the echo of a fire crackling somewhere. You’re suddenly a bit excited - you’d figured everyone would have gone to sleep by now.

You spot a comforting orange glow coming from the other side of the distant campsite, offset from the main groups of tents. Maybe someone else’s sheets needed time to breathe too.

The light grows brighter as you trek towards it. It leads you to a humble tent and a fire pit with two rusted metal chairs placed on either side of it. In one of the chairs sits a blonde man in a white shirt, with his back turned to you. He has his nose in a poorly bound book - its stitching is frayed and the pages look wilted, as if they’d been dropped in water before. A cigarette smolders in his free hand.

Your feet crunch into the ground a little harder as you approach in an attempt to avoid startling him. The man looks up to you once you’re finally facing each other. His face is foreign to you. Round glasses on his nose reflect a golden luster from the fire in front of him, blurring your view of his grey eyes slightly. Blonde waves are parted down the middle of his head, tousled a bit too perfectly. He has a well groomed beard that compliments his structured face and strong biceps that peak through his shirt sleeves.

He’s handsome, classy, alluring. Nothing like the usual around here.

“Hi, I’m Captain Reader,” you say with a small smile.

“Reader, huh?�� he says, folding his book closed, “I think I’ve heard that name somehow…”

“Oh, possibly. I’m a long time captain. I do a lot of strategic work as well, and it's not exclusive to the Scouts. So my name tends to get around.”

“My name is Zeke,” he replies, returning the smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Zeke… did that sound familiar? You couldn’t decide.

You take a seat in the other chair across from the fire, warming your hands once you get comfortable. The embers lit in front of you are only a sad little bundle of sticks, clearly in need of more fuel. Zeke rolls his shoulders back as his eyes focus in on your frame. His attention is definitely not on the book anymore. His body language almost tells you he likes what he sees - he’s open, relaxed, observant. The cigarette has gone a bit limp in between his fingers.

You’re guilty of curiosity too, as your eyes prod his figure. There must be something in the air.

“What’s that book about?” you question, “it looks… well loved.”

He chuckles. “It's a little fantasy piece, actually. Not something I’d usually find myself reading, but I’ve read it a hundred times now. It’s about a maiden who buys her way to heaven, and a prince who rescues her from the consequences.”

“Interesting…” you say, “how does someone buy their way to heaven?”

“With something far more valuable than money,” he explains. You wonder if the sultry undertone he added was all part of your imagination. It was a little grumbly, suggestive.

“And what would that be?”

“Not sure, still trying to figure that one out,” he remarks, bringing the cigarette up to his lips. Light from the fire gets trapped in the smoke and travels up through the dark air as he exhales.

“You’re gonna ruin your lungs if you keep doing that, Zeke,” you joke.

He chuckles again, “So she’s pretty and caring. Guess I’ve lucked out.”

You feel a little heat rush to your cheeks. This innocent, flattered, puppy-love feeling: you hadn’t felt this way in years. You really wish you could just brush it off, it wasn’t something you were used to. Instead, you let your mind wander for only a second - it would be a nice pastime to have a summer fling with someone in this forest. You were more than tempted. It would get your mind off of the impending doom you tended to feel in chaotic times like this. You could live a bit for once.

And the beautiful man in front of you could be the perfect candidate.

“Hmm, it’s convenient that you think so,” you reply, crossing your legs.

“Convenient? For you, or for me?” he questions. “Looking to get something out of your time in this forest, Captain?”

You pause. He’s bold. “Depends… what about you?”

Zeke lifts the book up slightly in his hand and flips it over to examine its withered back cover, “Not sure, maybe I’ll finally experience whatever this book is talking about. Something so desirable I could cheat my way into heaven with it.”

No. His tone wasn’t your imagination.

“I have a feeling you’ll end up being the prince that has to deal with someone else’s fuck-ups instead,” you laugh.

His lips curl back into a smile as he starts to laugh with you. “Doesn’t sound out of character,” he replies.

His pretty blonde hair ruffles a bit as the wind picks up. And shit - is that wind bitter. The miniscule fire wasn’t doing it’s best to warm you. You notice your limbs are shaking, too much for your jacket and hands to conceal. Zeke surely notices too, he’s been eyeing you this whole time after all.

“Here,” Zeke offers, pulling a thick corduroy coat off of the back of his chair.

“No, no. You should wear that. I’m alright,” you protest, rubbing your hands over your arms vigorously to try to stop your shuddering.

Zeke gets up from his seat anyway and crosses the gap between the two of you. You look up to him once he’s standing over you, embarrassed. Two big hands drape the hefty fabric over your shivering shoulders. You immediately feel warmer as your body heat gets trapped underneath it.

“Thanks,” you mutter, pulling on the jacket to adjust it on your arms.

The wind still howls as Zeke goes back to his metal chair. He sits down casually, taking another drag of his cigarette as his eyes move back to you, lingering on you gently -- like he feels satisfied or nostalgic. Your features looked so beautiful in the faint orange light of the fire, as the only focal point in his vision while darkness clouded everything behind you. He couldn’t help but stare.

“I do mean it,” he says as he exhales, “that you’re pretty.”

His words hang there for a moment. They wait for you on a hook, persuading you to take his bait. So he could reel you in.

“Trying to flatter your superiors huh? Well that’s one way to get what you want,” you retort.

“Who says you’re my superior, Captain Reader?” he jokes.

You laugh at him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you begin, “but I’ve never seen you around before. Are you from another branch of the military?”

Zeke pauses, letting out a huff of air.

“You know, with a reputation like yours, one would think you’d know your enemies a little better.”

Your face drops from a smile that rested high on your cheeks to a shocked, open-mouthed glare. You’re frozen. Why didn’t you assume…

“You’re the other Jaeger…” you trail off.

Zeke brings the cigarette back to his mouth and flips his book back open in response.

You stare down into the fire, unsure of what to do or say next. You were mortified. Maybe saying nothing was the answer - you’d already dug yourself into a hole by flirting with your prisoner. And damn, did Zeke deliberately let you. He knew who you were. He wanted you to feel this way. He led you on.

Who was supposed to deal with your fuck-up now?

You stand up, keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Goodnight, Zeke,” you say quietly, dropping his coat onto the chair.

You move quickly through the dark air that nips at your ears, back to the safety of your tent.

***

“Don’t go off and be an idiot,” Levi warns.

You assure him you wouldn’t, pouring a big glass of wine for yourself with a smile spread across your face.

Levi had been more than reluctant to let your soldiers bring this wine, but you’d done some convincing. This forest had been boring for the past few days. Laughing over a few drinks would be a sure way to liven up the crowd. You were just excited to finally get a taste of this Marleyan wine that everyone had been raving about.

You hadn’t seen Zeke since that night three days ago. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get him off of your mind. Partially because you were horribly embarrassed. And angry. You couldn’t believe you’d walked into his trap like that, practically offering yourself to him as a subject to humiliate. You were sure he’d enjoyed every bit of it.

And the other reason you couldn’t get him off of your mind…

He was a bit gorgeous. And you loved the way he talked to you, how it made you feel. Even though your time with him was so short, you secretly wanted more. You cursed yourself for thinking about him like that after all the harm he’d done to the Scouts. All of it made you sick - it was wrong, it made you feel like you had dirt on your hands.

But what if you tried to talk with him again? Just to sort your feelings out. Then you could be free to forget about him. This time, you would control yourself. You knew who he was now, and what it meant to be speaking with him. You were allowed to speak with him, you just had to be careful if you were going to proceed. None of you could trust him.

But the curiosity was still killing you.

You swirl the wine around in your glass as you dig the toe of your leather boot into the soft ground - trying to decide.

Anxious feet move below you before your mind is ready for them to, back toward Zeke’s tent.

It was nearly sundown, and beautiful purple rays beam through the forest, shattered from full display by hundreds of tree branches. The air was warm tonight, so there would be no need for Zeke's jacket again.

Once you see his camp, you notice he’s back in the same chair again. He’s still reading that torn-up book, this time with a pencil in his hand. He scratches little notes onto the pages here and there.

He looks up once he hears the familiar sound of your boots. The eyes behind his circular lenses scan you, lingering on the glass in your hand. You wonder if you should have brought him one.

“Hi, Zeke,” you say softly, making your way to the chair across the empty fire pit.

“Captain, thought I’d never see you again,” he says, a false excitement stuck in his voice.

You keep swirling your wine around in its glass, waiting for it to air out so you could take your first sip. It smelled divine, so fruity and fresh, in contrast with the earthy smells that the forest gave off.

Zeke looks up to you over the top rims of his glasses, unimpressed. You raise your glass to your lips, almost ready to tilt it back and let the chilled, burgundy wine rush into your mouth.

“That’s sluggish if you,” he remarks.

You pause, letting the cool glass linger on your bottom lip.

“What?” you bark, pulling the glass from your mouth.

He looks back down at his book, “No Marleyan strategist - or any good strategist for that matter - would drink in front of their adversaries. It makes you look sluggish.”

You just gape at him. He’s probably having fun while trying to irritate you. Two could play.

You put your arm out in front of you and flip the glass over, pouring the wine onto the wet dirt below. It splashes up onto your boots as it streams from your cup and runs down to spill into the fire pit.

“Happy?” you grumble, tossing the glass into the dirt. “Probably shitty wine anyway, considering you two come from the same place.”

He snickers, “Not quite. I was hoping you’d just hand the glass over.”

You regretted trying to talk to him now.

“Fine,” you sigh, getting up from your spot and turning back toward your tent. “Keep scribbling in your stupid book.”

“Actually, I was writing the two of us into the story.”

You’re sure he’s just pushing your buttons further - trying to lay another trap for you and capture you in another awkward moment of infatuation. But his words cause you to pause in your steps for a second.

“And what are we doing?” you question.

“We just cheated our way into heaven.”

“Creep,” you grumble before continuing to walk.

***

You hadn’t gone near that wine since. You had a grudge against it now, it completely ruined the mood last time you saw Zeke. But it had sure lightened the mood for everyone else, probably a little too much. Everyone except for Levi, of course. It was nearly impossible to change his mood.

In the meantime, you were still victim to unwarranted thoughts of Zeke in your head. This almost felt like a schoolgirl crush, how he bullied you a bit. This was more like torment, actually, considering you were trying to get him out of your head. But it didn’t change the fact that you liked what you saw.

Lately he was always reading that book and jotting down notes in it. And he rarely left his little corner of the campsite except for when he went on walks sometimes. You’d admire him from afar, careful never to let your eyes meet with his.

You’d take the images of him now burned into your brain back to bed with you, and stare up to the dark tent ceiling above. You’d fantasize about what it would have been like to meet Zeke in another life. One where the two of you weren’t enemies trapped on two different sides of a war. Where you didn’t feel guilt for your interest in someone who had jeopardized you and your comrades. Where the two of you were free to know one another.

You couldn’t pinpoint what kept driving this involuntary curiosity you felt towards him. It was tiring, honestly. But you wanted his company. Maybe you just wanted company in general -- it's not like you got along with him or anything.

Should you fix that? Did you even want to fix that? Would a peace offering be doing too much?

He did mention he wanted your glass of wine…

So one night, you cave. And you march over to the wooden cart that held dozens of cases of wine, an empty glass for Zeke in hand. You’re shocked to see only four measly bottles remain, laying on their sides in the only wooden case left. You could have sworn the shipment was full only a few days ago, but this camp had been set up for weeks now. Everyone here must be just as bored as you were, and several times more thirsty.

You pry open a cork and pour a few inches of wine into the glass, stopping to waft the crisp aroma into your nose. The air tonight was crisp too, it was cooler than it had been in recent days. You were adamant about remembering a jacket this time. The journey to Zeke’s tent feels long under the moonless sky. Hesitancy, followed by regret, pools into your brain as the dim light from his campfire comes into view.

Grow some balls, you’re convincing yourself that all of this means more than it really does. You’re bringing him a glass of wine for God’s sake.

There’s still time to turn around though… you could just finish the glass on your own. Out of range for him to bully you for it.

But he’s sitting there so prettily. He has his boots up on the rocks surrounding the fire pit, careful not to burn their soles in the flames. His blonde locks are pushed back slightly, giving you more room to look at his smooth face. And he’s certainly not busy, just reading his old book. Maybe he still had some compliments left for you despite all the bickering you two had done. Maybe he-

“Haven’t tried any of that ‘shitty’ wine yet, have you?” he questions. You hadn’t even noticed how close you are to him now. You’d gotten lost in him on the way.

“No…” you grumble, “it's for you. A peace offering.”

You stick your hand out. He receives the glass, lifting it up to examine it before taking a big drink.

“Ah,” he breathes, clearly satisfied. “It’s disgusting, Captain. Really.”

You stifle a laugh. “Everyone else seems to think so too. It’s all nearly gone.”

“Hmm,” he says, taking another sip, “None for you, I guess. Might as well just let it run out.”

“I think I will,” you mock, turning away from him to go sit in your chair,

The sizable fire Zeke had put together tonight was quick to thaw the chills on your arms. You really didn’t need your jacket after all, and opted to lay it over the back of your chair. The two of you sit there in silence for a while, taking in each other’s presence, observing the dying light in the forest.

Zeke looks at you eventually. Your eyes instinctually dart away.

“What made you want to come see me again?” Zeke asks.

You frantically search for an answer. You need to be careful.

“Boredom,” you reply flatly.

“You think so?” His attitude is back to how it was the first night you’d met. He’s engaged, focused, yet comes off so casual laying back up against his seat like that. He enjoys toying with you, like a cat to its prey.

Be careful.

“Don’t like my answer or something?”

That wasn’t exactly careful.

“No. You’re just not being honest.” He breathes that last word out like he needs to get a rise out of you, then he nonchalantly takes another drink while he waits for you to respond. Your mouth is open the slightest bit; you’re nervous, angry. He’s in your head now. He was reading you like that overused book of his.

“Then what do you want to hear from me?” you question. There’s thankfully still a false calmness in your voice.

“Just the truth. It’s not that complicated.”

You were sweating in front of this fire now. What was the truth? That you were interested in him? That you wanted nothing to do with him?

Be honest.

“I guess I just like your company,” you admit. Your eyes fall to the rocks lining the fire pit.

***

The discussion became pleasant after that, surprisingly. You guess you just needed to own up to how you felt. Your admittance caused some of the anger and tension tugging between the two of you to subside. The conversation was calm, collected, bouncing around from subject to subject: from the book, to life in Marley, to life in Paradis, to your occupation, and back to the book. Most of it was uneventful, but you liked that. It made it easy to pretend you were talking to him on the first night again, before you found out who he really was.

You left his camp with a giddy smile on your face. You’re on your way back to your tent now, after saying your goodbyes to Zeke. It was late, and you needed to be up early to have an important conversation with Levi. And god forbid he found out about any of this business between you and Zeke. Even though nothing was serious, it would come off unprofessional. And rightfully so.

You’re so lost in thought by the time you’re opening your tent door that you didn’t realize your arms were cold. The jacket you brought was probably still hanging off the chair at Zekes fire pit. It would look suspicious if you left it there and one of the other soldiers happened to see it.

You go back quietly, careful not to let anyone hear your footsteps. A couple of scattered thoughts weave their way into your head on your journey - what if this was another ploy of his? An attempt to get you back where he wants you, this time late at night. But how could it be? You were the one who left your jacket there. If anything, this was your own attempt to lead yourself back to him. Did you want him that badly… deep down?

When you reach your chair, you find it to be empty. You check around its sides, back, and underside - no jacket in sight. Out of the corner of your eye, a sliver of light shows from under the tarp serving as Zeke’s tent door. He’d probably noticed it and taken it inside with him after you’d gone home.

Halfheartedly, you meander to the tent door. You tap on it once the limited glimmer of light from inside touches the toes of your boots.

“Zeke? Do you have my jacket?” you whisper, still flicking the tarp to get his attention.

No answer.

Cold air stings your exposed skin as a draft swoops down through the camp. You also were wary of any observers that happened to be out this late at night. There was no telling what it looked like you might be doing outside his tent at the moment. The more uncomfortable you became out here, the more impatient you got.

“Zeke!” you hiss, whipping your head around your shoulder to double check your surroundings.

Still nothing but silence on the other side. Had he fallen asleep already?

The urge to pull back the tent door hits you. It would only take a moment to retrieve the jacket, then you’d be on your way.

Once again, making this a bigger deal than it really is.

But that didn’t matter. It felt like a big deal. That’s what every situation that involved him felt like. A big, complicated, multidimensional deal.

Be careful.

That wasn’t the answer either. Being careful was a good tactic when it came to strategizing your next moves in war. It was sometimes rendered useless when dealing with love. This was out of your control. And that was ok. That was what compelled you toward him - the mystery, the rush.

Let go.

You grip the tarp, it crinkles under your stiff fingers as you pull it back. A rush of warm air hits you, along with the light of a few oil lamps. And Zeke… shirtless. Sitting on his unmade bed with your jacket in hand.

The sight of his sculpted body in front of you sets a nervous, unprepared spark off in you, causing you to shut the door fast and stumble inside. And all at once, there you were - back in Zeke’s grasp. You accepted that wanted to be there.

“My jacket... ” you say, staring hard at the fabric in his hands, trying to avoid eye contact with his bare chest.

He stands up in silence and comes to your side, raising the jacket up once he gets real close to you. Oh no, he’s draping it over your shoulders again, slowly this time around, taking his time to stare into your puppy dog eyes. Dammit - the hot cheeks, the butterflies, the embarrassment. All of it was back now, in an instant he had you feeling like puddy in his hands. The two of you stare at each other as his hands adjust the jacket around you, stopping to play with one of the buttons on the front.

“You’re forgetful,” he mumbles, still focused on the button on your chest. His tone is sweet and quiet, a small smile appears out of one corner of his mouth.

You weren’t breathing, or thinking. Just looking down innocently at the hand that was so close to you.

“I’m not… normally,” you say quietly.

Zeke’s hands move to grip each side of the front of your jacket gently. His eyes move up from the hands placed on your jacket, and back to you. To your lips. You part them at the realization, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in your throat.

He shifts further in towards you, tugging on your jacket the slightest bit.

One cohesive thought rises up in the blankness of your brain. You want to kiss him.

The urge was mutual. Your lashes flutter against your cheeks a few times before you shut them, turning your head slightly to the right. Zeke follows your lead. You feel warm fingertips touch your chin and guide you to his soft pair of lips. His other hand abandons your jacket and comes down to meet your waist, slowly sliding to the small of your back. You melt into his touch, pulling yourself in closer. Chills go down your neck at the sensation of being in his arms, at his mercy. It feels so right, so warm and gentle. You want to keep going - so bad. You want him to hold you, touch you, kiss you harder.

But only for a moment.

You pull away once the guilt hits your core, gently touching your fingers to your lips.

Zeke stares at you, his eyes a bit wider than normal. His arms have gone limp at his sides without having you to occupy them any longer. You can tell there’s something on the tip of his tongue, something that might save the situation and bring your lips back to his. You didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s wrong. This is all wrong,” you say, backing up into the tent door behind you.

You think of the war. You think of your duties. You think of who Zeke really is. Any fluttering in your stomach was gone now, instead it was filled by tinges of regret.

“You’re right. It is,” he responds. He walks back over to his bed and sits on the quilt ruffled at its end. He runs a hand through his hair as he turns his head away from you. “I figured you’d be smart enough not to kiss back.”

You were almost too shocked to notice how much his words burned. Your mouth hangs open as your eyes squint at him a bit. Emotion courses through you as your mind crashes down from the high you were just on. You needed out of this tent.

You grip the tarp resting against your back and fling it open. You felt lost, speed walking away from Zeke’s tent and toward the center of camp. The night concealed the confusion on your face, but only for a minute. A fire glows near your tent, lighting up your surroundings - its Levi. You try your best to avoid him, changing your course to avoid his eyes.

“What are you doing awake, Reader,” Levi questions dully.

You don’t let out any response other than stopping in your tracks.

“Is everything... alright?”

“I just,” you search for anything appropriate, any excuse for your apparent distress, “don’t like being in this forest.”

You both go quiet for a moment, listening to the snapping of thin branches in the fire.

Levi breaks the silence, “That’s actually what I was going to mention to you tomorrow. The MP’s need you for something. I was going to give you the choice to go back, or stay here.”

Going back. Maybe that was the right answer you’d tried so hard to find.

***

You shove all of your belongings into your suitcase early the next morning. It didn’t take you long to decide you needed to abandon this mission. Nothing between you and Zeke would ever work out, and your feelings for him were only a burden to everyone here, and yourself.

You lug your bags to a horse and cart that had been set up for you, tossing them over the cart’s walls and into the back.

Climbing up into the front seat, you notice a gift waiting for you - that overused book. Zeke must have finally figured out how to fake his way into heaven.

You decided to read some of it on the way back.

Zeke sure had written his own story inside of it. All of the notes he’d scribbled in the margins were in another language, presumably from Marley - a secret story you’d never get to understand. Only for him to know.

***

You heard news of what happened in the forest a few days after you arrived home. You couldn’t process it at first, instead you just sat in disbelief and denial. Then the ‘what ifs’ set in. What if you had stayed? Maybe you could have stopped Zeke from doing all the damage he decided to cause. The tear-filled anger set in after that.

There was only one chapter of his book left now. You felt disgusted looking at it, a reminder of everything you’d felt for him. You needed to sit yourself down and get through it so you could finally throw it away - and finally forget about him forever.

You come to the final page. It was intended to be blank, a sort of protectant between the ink on the last page and the back cover. But instead, there’s a penciled in note. From Zeke.

His writing in your language was messy and shaky. You assumed he could read in your language, but may not be practiced in writing in it. This was probably the first message he’d ever written in it. All for you.

—

Dear Captain Reader,

I tend to avoid feeling guilty for much. I probably won’t feel guilty for everything I’m about to do to your soldiers in this forest.

I did feel guilty, however, when I saw your beautiful face that night you found me alone in the forest. And then I realized you were caring, brilliant, and a strategist that was far smarter than I was.

Well, this was my attempt at strategizing.

Pulling you in and then pushing you away. I hoped the guilt and confusion would make you leave. Make you think you were unfit for the assignment, too distracted by me. Heartbroken, even. Anything to get you out of here.

Now, I’m not too sure there will be anyone to rescue you. I won’t be able to again. Take care of yourself. Stay sharp.

I hope you enjoyed the book. I was really never a fan of the ending.

Zeke

—

Author's Note:

Dear anon: You gave me a lottt of free rein with this one, so I hope it was ok ●﹏● (and not too angsty and complicated lol. You said they kinda hate each other but theres chemistry and I just ran with it. Oopsies.) This was one of my favorite fics to write, ever, I think! I had a lot of fun with the dialogue especially. Thanks so much for the request, and thanks to everyone else for reading! Lots of love - Shep :)

[pocket-clown]

Breaking up with Arthur Fleck | angst, optional fluff

// original request: Hello! I was just wondering if you’d be interested in doing some breakup headcanons? It could have a happy ending if you want, I just love angst lol. But I totally understand if this isn’t something you’re interested in writing.

AN: I’ve been writing a ton of angst lately, and this shit h u r t e d to write. I included two endings; the first is a happy and (somewhat) fluffy ending, the second is an unhappy, angsty ending, so everyone can choose which end they want ‘cause I know some people dislike angst without a happy end.

thank you for the request, anon!

Words: 3,240 (for all three parts together)

You loved Arthur, and he loved you. 

Neither of you had ever, in the entirety of your lives, felt such strong feelings of pure adoration and love for anyone else like you did for each other. 

You saw each other at the best and worst of times; you saw your respective quirks, your strengths, your flaws - you saw each other for who you really were, and you still pulled each other close and let each other in to your own unique, yet strangely similar worlds. 

You had never felt so safe, so secure, so loved before in your life, and you tried so hard to return those feelings tenfold.

And that’s why it hurt so, so badly. 

You and Arthur loved each other, and with that love came the desire to help, the desire to guide the other through the tunnel to the light - the desire to fix. 

You loved Arthur in his entirety; his positive and negative aspects made him him, and you knew that he had deep-seeded issues so embedded in his psyche that he'd most likely spend the majority of the rest of his life in therapy, and while you didn't have it as bad, you had your own fair share of traumas, struggles, and shortcomings. You didn't want to fix each other in the sense that you viewed the other as something broken, rather you wanted to fix what was hurting the other, thus relieving them of their pain. 

Yes, you loved each other, but love could not fix. Love could not cure - and as time went on, you began to question your relationship with Arthur and reevaluate who you really were and your place in his life. 

- You began to wonder if maybe, maybe, you were in the way of things. 

So often did Arthur work himself into a frenzy over you; his concern for not only the well being of his mother but now yours as well often left him neglecting himself rather severely. His concern with making sure you and your needs were taken care of was so sweet and selfless, but at the same time rarely did he ever do the same for himself. 

You tried equally as hard to care for him; you stressed and worried, you picked up extra hours at work so you could help him with bills - you wanted nothing more than to return that same level of love and devotion. You'd get left burnt out, exhausted mentally and physically but you were okay with it, to a degree - relationships needed work, and you wanted nothing but the best for him. 

But as time went on, it became harder and harder to watch how hard Arthur pushed himself. It, at times, was devastating to see how sore and exhausted he was, and then for him to minimize how stressed he was just to make sure you were okay, broke your heart. 

You loved Arthur and he loved you, but you started to wonder if maybe he'd be better off not in a relationship with you. Had it not been for you, then perhaps he could work on himself and work on overcoming what struggles he had without you and your needs in the way. Yes, you loved him - but you wanted what was best for him, and a quiet, hissing little voice in the back of your mind said that you were what was worst for him. He needed to focus on himself, and you felt you were in the way of that. 

As usual, so in tune with you and your emotions, Arthur immediately noticed your silence and withdrawal, and you watched with a pained heart as he fret about it. You could see the gears in his head working overtime as he tried to piece together the puzzle of the Whos, Whats, Wheres, and Whys of what went wrong - as he tried to figure out what he did wrong, so he could fix it. 

Like the sweet, sweet man that is Arthur, he did everything in his power to bring you back. He became overly, tooth-rottingly sweet; your name was almost forgone entirely and you became known almost solely as his love, his sweetheart, his darling. Each time you visited his apartment from your own you noticed how it was tidier than the last time, and he even tried to cook for you on a few occasions. He read his new material to you as quickly as it filled his journal, and told you as often as he could, sometimes even seconds apart, that he loved you.

Each increasingly gentle and affectionate kiss and touch from him only fed your love for him - but in doing that, did it add more fuel to the fire that was your guilt for essentially robbing him of what he deserved. You couldn't help but feel that you were undeserving - that you were unworthy of someone as loving as Arthur. 

You wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life with Arthur, but you felt that all you did was add more to his plate. You felt that your presence in his life just added more stress and more for him to worry about, and both of those just added more in the way of his progress. 

The breakup is sad, messy, and abrupt; even just the way the words felt leaving your mouth as the two of you sat watching a late Murray rerun one night made you feel sick to your stomach; 

"I think we should break up." 

Your voice was so small and hushed that you weren’t sure if he even heard you, but it seemed that it just took a moment for the weight of the words and the fact that you had even made that statement to fully settle. Arthur turned to you, his eyes wide and eyebrows knit, a look of complete shock and utter heartbreak on his face - "Y/N - honey - what?" 

"I've just -” You paused to take a deep breath, knowing that there was no taking back what you were about to say. “I've been doing a lot of thinking, and… and I don't think it's good for us to be together, Arthur." 

Despite not looking at him from your spot on the far end of the couch, you could feel his eyes boring into you and you pleaded with whatever higher power there was that he wouldn't be hurt - that he wouldn't get upset, that he could just accept it and move on - 

But you were an idiot for thinking that. You were too in love, too drawn to each other for either of you to take the prospect of a breakup without any hurt, tears, or resistance. 

"Please, Y/N, please -" Arthur quickly scoot closer to you, subsequently closing the gap that was between your bodies, and he placed his hand on your thigh - but you pulled away, far too ashamed of yourself to let him touch you. "Please, sweetheart, why are you saying that? Tell me what's wrong, tell me so I can fix it - what did I do?" 

Rarely did Arthur ever cry; most of his stress, his anxiety, his upset - the majority of his angst manifested in those painful laughing fits that took him, and while crying did often happen along with them, for Arthur to just cry shattered your heart and crushed the pieces. He was not a noisy crier in the slightest, but you didn't need to look at him to know that he was tearful; his sniffling, and the tremulous, raw tone of his voice told you he was on the verge of a total meltdown and you squeezed your eyes shut in response to tears of your own, trying so hard to ignore the comforting feeling of his hand cupping your face in an attempt to coax you into looking at him as he whispered to you.

"M-My love, please - please don't leave me, please don't say that, I'll fix whatever it is - I'll do better, I'll be better, just please, Y/N, I love you…" 

He was rambling at this point, tripping over his words as his voice trembled in his attempt to piece together his thoughts coherently and fight to keep himself from losing it. You could feel his breath against your face, rapid and uneven, and for each sniffle from him did you squeeze your eyes shut tighter against the burning threat of your own tears. 

Which was fruitless. "That's the thing, Arthur…" The second you opened your mouth did the tears pour from your eyes, and you turned your head away when he reached up to try and wipe them away. "We can't - you can't - fix things! I love you so, so much Arthur, but we can't fix each other. Seeing you get so hurt and stressed because you're worried about me is - it's too much. It's unhealthy and it's just going to hurt us more." With your words did you stand up, a step to the right so you could sit on the arm of the couch, facing away from him. 

He remained silent, and you took that as your cue to continue. "We shouldn't be together because we just get too worked up over the other, and you can't focus on yourself - you can't take care of yourself - because I'm just in the way. 

"Oh, Y/N - that is not true!" Arthur jumped up from his spot, rounding the couch so he could stand in front of you. "Don't you - don't you dare think that you're anything bad to me -!"

He was shouting, but you knew it wasn’t coming from a place of anger. "You're going to wake your mom up, Art."

"I don't care about that - I care about this, I care about you, Y/N! I love you - please, please, sweetheart, please let me fix it, please - " Before you could respond, Arthur crumpled down onto his knees in front of you, his hands coming to rest on your own in your lap. The touch from him was enough to finally bring you to look at him, and the look on his face could've killed you; his cheeks were stained with tears, his eyes were glassy, his nose red and his bottom lip quivering - never in your time with him had you seen him so distressed, and knowing that you were the cause of it made you hate yourself. You knew you needed to end it fast before things got any worse; the last thing you wanted was to drag it on and on and on and end up hurting him even more.

"I'm sorry - I made my decision… I love you but I can't do this, Arthur, it isn't going to work."

And with that, you were gone. Your sweater was plucked from the coathanger by the door, and you didn't bother even putting your shoes on, instead just scooping them up as pushing the door open as you did so. You ignored how cold and filthy the hallway floor of the complex felt against your socked feet, just like you ignored how badly the lump in your throat hurt from your attempts at staving off your sobs, just like you ignored how Arthur called your name just as you rounded the corner, down into the stairwell. 

After that night, you only ever left your apartment for work, and you left and returned at odd hours because you knew that Arthur would be waiting at your usual time and you couldn't stomach the thought of seeing him. 

And how it hurt to feel that way. Your stomach was in knots constantly, and day in and day out were you a shaky, anxious mess of an impending total shutdown. How terribly you missed Arthur; you felt like you had literally lost a part of you, and you felt sick with worry over how he was coping. You were still so madly in love with the man who made you feel at home for once in your life, but you couldn't help but feel that maybe this was for the better. 

Days off were spent restless in bed, and nights were sleepless. Once upon a time, had you found yourself unable to sleep would you have then gone to Arthur's apartment knowing fully that he was most likely awake as well, and the two of you would spend the next two, three, four hours on his couch, limbs tangled and heads cradled on the shoulders of the other until you were both tired enough to sleep, parting so reluctantly despite knowing you’d be seeing each other again in a mere few hours.

But you no longer had the luxury that was Arthur Fleck's presence. His apartment was two floors above your own, and knowing that he was so close was simultaneously so painful yet so comforting that sometimes you'd have to stop yourself from running up there and begging for him to take you back. Any time you, for whatever reason, found yourself in the hallway did you swear you could you sometimes catch a faint breeze of the scent of the brand of cigarettes he smoked and it comforted you; making you hope that it wasn't just wafting down from upstairs, but that he had actually come by. 

The break up never got easier, but dealing with it did. About three weeks had passed, and while your heart was still struggling to pull through with the absence of him, you were managing.

Good End: 

Until late one insomnia-ridden night when you were up, watching something on television half-past one in the morning and you heard a peculiar sound. 

It was a gentle, brief scraping sound, followed by a soft pat. Initially, you assumed it was a mouse or rat running rampant in your apartment, so when you stood up to switch on the lamp to get a better look around did you realize what it actually was. 

Under your door was an envelope. Stark white against the dingy mat that was most likely older than you were that came with your apartment, and from your spot could you just make out Arthur's neatly-messy handwriting on the front of it - "Y/N". 

You slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle how pathetically you whimpered, and after taking a look through the peephole to make sure he wasn't out there and that the coast was clear, you slumped down against the door, your fingers carefully peeling open the envelope as if it were made from such delicately fine paper that even a shred of force would tear it. 

The first thing you noticed was how the margins of the paper (which you realized had been torn from his journal, meaning he probably wrote multiple drafts to get it right) were absolutely filled with hearts and smiley faces; towards the bottom, a sad face had been drawn, the words "me when your gon" under it, and a similar note under a nearby smiley face reading "me with you". 

The waterworks flowed after that; tears falling from your eyes in such haste that you couldn't wipe them in time to keep them from falling onto the letter in your hands. Arthur's true, raw feelings had been poured out; sentence after sentence about how he loved you so much, how you made him feel so happy, and how hearing you laugh at his jokes made his bad days feel good. 

In his own unique way that was so Arthur did he tell you that you made things better for him, not worse; you gave him something to think about, something to look at and focus on; “your vary prety”, “your smile makes my hart feel warm”, “you make things eazer eazier”, “you help me a lot”, “i love you vary much”, that you weren't a distraction from him getting better - if anything, you distracted him from the bad sometimes. No, his negative thoughts were always going to be there and sometimes nothing could be done to help them, but having you by his side helped. 

You felt so fucking selfish for how you ended things. You hadn’t even stopped to think or ask how Arthur felt about it; instead, you just shut yourself off from him with your insecurities and negative thoughts and broke his heart so abruptly that he was left blindsided. You were disgusted with yourself, but that didn’t matter - what mattered to you was how much Arthur loved you, and how you needed to let him know how much you loved him.

No, love couldn’t fix. Love couldn’t cure. But from love came support and understanding, and those were two stepping stones to getting, at least mildly, better. You loved Arthur, and he loved you, and so paying no mind to how late it was getting you sat on the edge of your couch, paper and pen flat on your coffee table, and started on your response.

Bad End: 

You were managing, until he started showing up at your apartment and your place of work. Though for the latter he'd never, ever go in - but if you glanced up and out the window at the right time, you'd be able to catch a brief glimpse of beige as he ducked behind a corner, and occasionally on your commute home would that familiar, evocative scent of the smoke from his cigarettes seem to trail you. 

It wasn't daily that he'd show up at your apartment, rather only a handful of times a week, and each time would he knock; four, five, six gentle raps of his knuckles against the chipping metal door - but you'd ignore it. You'd pretend that you weren't home, that you were sleeping, that you just didn't hear it - but Arthur wasn't stupid. Arthur wasn't that naïve. He knew you were home, and he knew you were ignoring him, and every bit of you - your heart, your brain, your legs, your hands - every bit screamed and pleaded with you to open the door and let him in - but you couldn't. You couldn't. It was too late for anything. 

As the days dragged on, you found yourself ignoring even phone calls. Had it been work calling you'd be in trouble, but you told yourself that in that instance would you lie and say your phone was broken - but you knew it wasn't work. You knew it was Arthur, and you felt like such a cruel, vile person for so blatantly ignoring him when he was trying so damn hard to reach out to you. 

As days turned to weeks, and weeks to a month, you found yourself wondering which hurt worse; so outright ignoring the man you loved as he tried so desperately to reach you and probably making him think you hated him - or the fact that his attempts at doing so were beginning to steadily decrease. 

What were once almost daily visits to your apartment, nightly calls, and weekly stops at your work dwindled down to only once or twice a week, then only three or four times a month - then to nothing. The scent of lingering smoke dissipated, and the only time you ever saw him was if you caught brief glimpses of that beige sweater you had loved so much in public, or if your subconscious tormented you sadistically with tender dreams about the life you could've had with the man you swore you'd marry. 

But it was too late. 

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taglist; 

@tahliamalfoydepp @tsukiakarinobara @smol-nari​ @ajokeformur-ray​ @lavenderheartz​ @lady-carnivals-stuff​ @darknessisafriend​ @emissarydecksetter​ @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend​ @fleckcmscott​ @oldloverhippiemusic​ @hearthurfleck​ @sgtsavoytruffle​ @honking4joker​ @art-hurfleck​ (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[lightwoodsmagic]

I’m worried about Liam and his album and I didn’t know where to go but you always seem rational. I feel awful because there’s only a few songs I like and the album isn’t getting good reviews but Liam DESERVES good things, and then everything with ‘both ways’ happened. I’m so sad for him, but do you think he’ll be okay? I don’t want him to be cancelled, but the song was such a bad choice? His image in the eyes of the public seems ruined. Please tell me what you think :(

Hi anon, 

Thank you for thinking of me, and for thinking that I’m rational. I know this has been sitting in my inbox for the better part of a day, but in order to be rational and approach this properly, I had to take some time to let myself play out all of my emotions. 

I’m here now! And I think I’m ready. This post is long though, so I’ve popped it under the cut. 

Before I start properly, there’s a few things I want to say first. 

- I love Liam, an absolutely ridiculous amount. Liam’s music isn’t the usual genre I would listen to, but I will always support him and his music, and his fashion, and everything else he does. 

- I am incredibly proud of him for finally being able to release his album.

- As anyone who follows me knows, I strongly believe Liam is queer, and closeted, and in a relationship with Zayn. Here’s a masterpost I made about it earlier this year.

- I’m realistic. Some things below may not be what people agree with, or wanna hear, but you asked for my opinion.

Okay. Here we go. I’ve divided it into sections to address your ask properly. I’m also aware that this is pretty late in terms of fandom, and I haven’t been on Tumblr, so people have no doubt said many of the things I’m about to say. 

LP1

First thing: don’t feel bad for only liking a couple of songs on Liam’s new album. Everyone’s music taste is different and it is completely possible to love and support someone even if you don’t absolutely love their music. It does not make you a fake fan, or mean that you love Liam less, or anything like that. Please don’t worry about that. It’s okay not to love the album. Completely okay. 

Also, YES. Liam does deserve good things, always.

You’re right; it hasn’t been getting great reviews, but even though I really enjoyed the album despite my musical preferences, some people are frustrated, and not just reviewers. People are frustrated that a third of it is collabs, that half of it is songs we’ve heard before (that weren’t just released as a lead up to the album), and that Liam seemed to hardly write on it. We’ve known for a while that something’s been up with Liam’s album, especially when last year he said he had a full album ready to go, and then suddenly it was like it was scrapped, and he had to start again. 

We also know that Liam is a brilliant writer; he wrote so much for One Direction. So many people completely disregard this because Liam once said that he was more about the melodies, and Louis more the lyrics. Under no circumstances does that mean he does not, and did not, write great lyrics, or just good songs in general. That kind of thinking is also what leads to a lot of Liam’s erasure from Home, which is something I also touched on in the masterpost I linked above. It’s something that frustrates me a lot, when people forget about his writing ability. It doesn’t help though when he didn’t, or maybe wasn’t allowed to, write more on his own debut album. 

Overall, in terms of his album in general, I’m exceptionally proud that it’s been released, and sad for him that it’s not getting great reviews. Reviews don’t always matter, though! The support for the album from other sources has been really brilliant, and I’m sure he was feeling the love (and still is, despite recent stuff that I’ll touch on now).

Both Ways

No matter how you look at the situation, no matter who you are or what you think of Liam, it is baffling to me that this song went through numerous people to be released, especially knowing that a large part of Liam’s fan base consists of young, queer women from his days in the band. 

It should never have been a surprise that the reception was bad; the people who are upset about it are allowed to be upset, and their feelings are valid. In a world where bisexual and pansexual people are constantly fetishised, it’s a kick in the face for some people. I’m pan, and while personally I wasn’t overly offended by the song, I did cringe at a couple of bits, and I have no right to tell other people how they should or shouldn’t feel. 

To me, there’s a couple of options as to what happened here:

- It was genuinely just a gross misjudgement on everyone’s behalf. People make mistakes. I hate cancel culture. At the moment, if this is the case and they all genuinely didn’t think it would be this bad, I’m not sure if Liam addressing it would be a good thing, or if it’d just make things worse. If he apologises, it’s going to seem disingenuous to a large number of people, but if he doesn’t, it’s like he doesn’t care at all about the people that’ve been hurt. It’s not a good place to be in. 

- It was a purposeful song put into his album by his team to push his narrative. Liam’s in a shit spot at the moment. A very large majority of the media attention leading up to his album used negative promo, like his ‘relationship’ with M*ya and the fight at the bar during Thanksgiving. Aside from very recently, Liam’s team have been a nightmare, and it’s frustrating when people can’t see that he’s in a situation just as bad as some of the other men. Would I be surprised if this explanation is the correct one? Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’ll touch on it a bit more in the next bit though. 

No matter what, the song was not a good decision, and was not going to go down well. Alllll of this leads onto…

How it affects Liam’s image

I’m separating this into three parts to explain it the way I think I need to; the part of the fandom who believes he’s queer and closeted, the part of the fandom who don’t, and the general public.

The part of the fandom that believe Liam is queer and closeted

Liam’s image hasn’t changed here. This whole thing has made this section of the fandom angry, frustrated, and sad. At a time when everyone should be able to just relax and enjoy Liam’s new album, we’re bombarded from all over the internet with people trying to cancel him. Angry because Liam is being absolutely attacked, especially at a time when he’s just spoken about how fragile his mental health is, and because there’s quite a few hypocrites around at the moment. Frustrated because there’s nothing that can really be done at this point, and when it comes to Liam, people never seem to care as much as they should. Sad because we love him so much and he deserves such good things, and people never seem to care enough to recognise that.

It’s also frustrating that people can’t, or refuse to, realise that Liam is just as closeted, has had just as much PR bullshit including at the moment, and suffered through forced interview after forced interview, and been made to say a million things. It’s also important to note that if Harry can have a stunt song, and Louis can have a stunt song, Liam can also have a song (even if not directly stunt related) added to his album to push through his current narrative. They’re different situations, different songs, and different explanations, but they all have the same running cause. Just something to think about. 

The part of the fandom that don’t think that

Fuck me, I never realised how massive a chunk of this fandom there is that does not give a shit about Liam James Payne. Can’t relate, but okay. In terms of his image here, it kinda depends; for some people, they’re not fussed enough to pay attention, but that can mean that they’ll just believe he’s an arsehole here because they can’t be fucked to look into it. People don’t have to be invested in all five of them, of course they don’t, but it might be a big negative here. 

For other people, the ones that seem to hate him for some reason, this adds so much more fuel to the fire. There’s a lot of people currently calling him out for homophobic things he said about Harry, which I’ve spoken about before but can’t find my own damn post but the masterpost I tagged at the start of this mentions it a tiny bit. When this swirled up again recently in the last month or so, which interesting timing, the media ran a TONNE of articles about how Liam had been talking shit about Harry. Harry liked the very next tweet Liam posted, even though it had nothing to do with him or the situation, and Harry wasn’t just on a liking spree. It seemed very much like a ‘hey, don’t worry, we’re all okay, don’t believe this shit’. This section of the fandom is exceptionally unlikely to change their mind about him unfortunately. 

I spoke about this very recently, but the fact that people can’t see Liam’s situation for what it is, and can see the others, is beyond frustrating because the patterns are INCREDIBLY similar, and there’s very similar situations. 

Also, Liam and Louis’ friendship is 100% legit. They’re very close. If there’s anyone out there who loves Louis and thinks he’s closeted, but hates Liam, do you really think Louis would love Liam so much if this was really who he was? Someone who doesn’t care about the community that Louis is obviously so fiercely proud of, and someone who talks legitimate shit about Louis’ partner? Of course he wouldn’t, because Liam is also closeted and stuck in a shit situation and made to say things in interviews to stir up One Direction drama for the media. Speaking of the media though…

The general public

When I woke up this morning and Mar told me about the hashtag that was trending on Twitter, I was instantly so emotional, for a lot of reasons. As I said before, I hate cancel culture in the easy way it exists. People are allowed to make a mistake, or slip up, or make a wrong move; everyone is human. It’s how they respond to it that should change things. 

There’s a couple of problems here, though.

- Liam can’t really respond to it in the way he needs to. Like I said before, I don’t know whether it’d be better or worse for him to talk about it. The only genuine way he could is to come clean about everything, and he can’t fucking very well do that, can he? So the apology will just be a lie, and people probably won’t believe it anyway. 

- People are more willing to forgive someone if it’s one mistake, but Liam’s team have fucked with his image so much that to the general public, it’s not one mistake. We know they’re not real, but if we step back from the fandom and try to look at it through the eyes of someone who knows not very much about him and only knows what the media pushes, it’s a slightly horrifying image. 

When I speak to my friends about Liam, people often think he’s arrogant, conceited, and your standard ‘gym bro’. The GP may remember the times he was made to say homophobic things, and if they don’t remember, they’re reminded in every new article. They see him as the young guy who dated a woman in her mid 30’s and got her pregnant, and who hardly sees his ‘son’ and therefore is a deadbeat ‘dad’. They see him now as the man in his mid 20’s who’s ‘dating’ a teenager, and the articles I’ve seen today all mention her, some mentioning the debate about her age and others trying to say the song is about her even though it was being written about three years ago. They see him as a man who has fights outside bars, and are told it was because of his underage ‘girlfriend’. They see him as an artist who sings about getting wasted, sex, and being rich. 

I know I’m setting a bleak image, anon, and I’m sorry, I am. I don’t believe a single word of the above obviously, and NO ONE should, but it’s the reality of the situation for the GP, and it shouldn’t be pushed to the back as if we should only blame other sections of the fandom for his image, or that this isn’t, realistically, how it looks for Liam right now. 

We know Liam as the kind, sweet, caring, protective, talented, queer man that’s been there for us through his music and his words, who’s been there for the boys the entire time since the band started, who’s suffered through addiction and mental health problems to come out the other side stronger than ever. 

They don’t know that, anon, and I don’t know what Liam will do to come back from this massive of a social media hit. There’s numerous articles slamming him, the hashtag trended for almost a whole day in Australia at least, and for some of the GP, it’s the final thing in a long list of bullshit that Liam’s supposedly done. Each article mentions all of the above things again too, and Apple Music even mentions Ch*yl and B*ar directly by name. 

I’m hoping for his sake that in a few days, this will all blow over, and it’ll be handled the way it needs to be handled. The problem is that I don’t know what the right way to handle it is. 

I think he’ll be okay. I believe he’ll be okay, I do, but I think in terms of the GP, he has a way to go. I want the very best for Liam, always, and I will always continue to love and support him. Everyone else should too, because right now, he needs it from us more than ever.