#of constant accountability...No excuses for your choices for they are yours and yours alone?“ she's asking that cuz she got caught

[hislittleraincloud]

This was so beautifully done 😭👔JAIRO🎀💖✨

[il-miele-che-scrive]

another Y/n Verstappen x Lando smau

madmax.jpg Gelukkige Verjaardag, Y/n 🎉 geniet van uw speciale dag! We've had our ups and downs but I'm overall happy that you're my little sister

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y/n_verstappen Thanks for always being there for me even when I drive you crazy 😌🩷

username1 Lando influenced Max to make a jpg account, I'm dead 😭

landonorris she's so lucky to have you as her brother

↳y/n_verstappen Excuse me?? Are you dating me or my brother?? What's up with the ass licking??

landonorris well you're a bit of a pain in the ass aren't you? max had to deal with you since you were born

y/n_verstappen If I'm such a pain in the ass how about I leave your ass alone

landonorris hey, he didn't have a choice, I chose my pain in the ass

y/n_verstappen You're on thin ice, Norris

username2 guys, mother and father are fighting on mother's birthday 😭

username1 Nahhh, no worries, that's just how they are

y/n_verstappen True, we might be a little mean to each other but we're very much in love

landonorris I totally didn't force her to say this

lewishamilton Happy birthday to Y/n! 🎂

↳username3 Oh to have Lewis Hamilton wish me a happy birthday 😩 one can dream

↳y/n_verstappen Thank you Lulu!💜

username3 AND she's calling THE Lewis Hamilton Lulu😭

username4 Probably got that from Lando 😂

danielricciardo Time flies, huh?

↳y/n_verstappen It does 😭 Max and I went from me driving him insane to me watching him driving around in circles

danielricciardo I'm sure you still drive Max insane from time to time even these days😂

madmax.jpg That's absolutely correct

username5 Max having flashbacks of the day he found out his lil sis is dating Lando lmao

y/n_verstappen At least now he got used to that idea😭

carlossainz55 Sending all the good vibes to Y/n, have a blast celebrating! 🥳🥂🎈

↳y/n_verstappen Thanks, Carlito!! 🫶

carlossainz55 I still remember how back in the days Lando would complain to me about that huge crush he had on you

y/n_verstappen Ahhh, it was just a few years ago and yet so much has happened

landonorris and I still do have a crush on her wtf

y/n_verstappen That's literally so obvious ❤️

carlossainz55 I didn't say you don't anymore, I was just saying it took you a few years to fianlly take some action

landonorris And look where it got me, it was worth the wait

francisca.cgomes Wishing you the happiest birthday Y/n! You were so adorable as a kid 🫶

↳y/n_verstappen Am I not adorable anymore? ☹️

francisca.cgomes You are! Just in a different way! You're a grown woman now

charles_leclerc Happy birthday to my favorite Verstappen

↳username6 HE DID NOT

username7 HE DID...

↳y/n_verstappen And all this time I thought Max was your favorite

charles_leclerc His constant victories killed it a bit for me

madmax.jpg You're just salty you can't keep up

charles_leclerc Sorry? I got P2 last race, each time I'm closer to beating you

madmax.jpg Keep dreaming, mr 20secs behind

lando.jpg Happy birthday to the most amazing person in my life ❤️ you deserve all the happiness in the world, I'm so lucky to have you by my side. Cheers to you, my love ❤️🥂

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maxfewtrell She's the most amazing person in your life now? 🙄

↳lando.jpg you're on the 2nd place let's say

↳y/n_verstappen Sorry not sorry <3

maxfewtrell Happy birthday by the way! Sending my best wishes

y/n_verstappen Thanks a lot 🫶

username1 THE 5TH PIC

oscarpiastri Never expected to see Lando so in love

↳y/n_verstappen Honestly I don't think he expected that himself

oscarpiastri Happy birthday, thank you for taking care of Lando!

landonorris taking care of me?

oscarpiastri Yeah! You're so different now. I guess you're finally an adult. Which now is kind of weird that I'm saying this on Y/n's bday but whatever

username1 Awwwwhhhh mr I don't wanna mature I'm happy where I am has finally matured!

y/n_verstappen All I'm doing is trying to keep him from getting too silly, but thanks for the credit!

username2 I don't know if I wanna be her or wanna be WITH her

y/n_verstappen Petition for Max to let you win this weekend since it's MY BIRTHDAY @/maxverstappen1

↳maxverstappen1 The day Lando wins I'm allowing you to get married

y/n_verstappen Pls just let him win this once

maxverstappen1 If he were fast enough he would've won

lando.jpg that's how you speak about your brother in law?

maxverstappen1 And I'd do it again

username3 I'm crying why are both Y/n and Max so aggressive

username4 That's just the Verstappen genes 🤷‍♀️

username5 Don't tell me Max saw pics nr 4, 5 and 6 and didn't say anything

↳y/n_verstappen He chose to ignore them 😌 better for him I guess

riabish You make such a great couple 😭

↳y/n_verstappen I know right 😭

riabish Anyway girls night when?

y/n_verstappen As soon as possible I guess?!?!

username6 Y/n is precious and needs to be protected at all cost

username7 I've never seen a man as in love with their gf as Lando is with Y/n

username8 She's so goofy I love her

username9 The best wag tbh, the rest is just stuck up bitches

↳y/n_verstappen EXCUSE ME?? They're all amazing women, if you hate on them don't call yourself my fan

username10 I saw Max's post and I waited for Lando to post, I am not disappointed 😂

georgerussell63 You're so in love mate

↳lando.jpg obviously, why wouldn't I be!

alex_albon You guys are a perfect couple

↳y/n_verstappen Noooo I love the vibe you and Lily have!! You're each other's wags

alex_albon I guess if you put it this way 😂

y/n_verstappen Both of my boys on the podium today!

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charles_leclerc And this time Lando didn't break Max's thropy 😂👏

↳carlossainz55 That would be too risky now that he's dating his sister 😂

landonorris You promised Max would let me win ☹️

↳y/n_verstappen I did not! You saw I had a talk with him but it didn't work out

francisca.cgomes Is that what you used your birthday wish for?

↳y/n_verstappen It just might be 🤭

username1 Should've used it for a Lando win 😭

y/n_verstappen I guess nothing can stop Max 🤷‍♀️

username2 I love seeing them both getting along 🥺

username3 Let's go Lando Lando it's okay

↳username4 Let's go Lando he is here to stay

username5 Let's go Lando he is one of us

y/n_verstappen He's racing like a lion shouldn't he be Dutch

username3 OMG Y/N FINISHING THE LYRICS

y/n_verstappen GIRL I love this song 😭 AND THE PODIUM SONG

username6 So happy to know Max isn't angry anymore 😭

↳y/n_verstappen He's... Dealing with it. We're still not allowed too much PDA around him

username7 The way people chanted Lando when the Dutch national anthem was playing lmao

↳username8 Am I delusional or was Max also mouthing the chant?

username7 HE WAS!! And Y/n in the crowd too!!

username8 Damn even the Verstappens are bored of their own anthem

username9 Y/n you looked stunning in the paddock this weekend!

↳y/n_verstappen Thank you I'm gonna blush 🤭

username10 So when are you getting married?

↳username2 Max said when Lando wins, a podium is not a win 😭

username10 That's a never I guess 😂 or at least not for as long as Max is in F1

username11 Y/n is a fangirl just like us

↳username12 Hard to not be when your brother and your boyfriend are both F1 drivers

username13 I wonder if Lando has ever talked to Jos?

↳username14 I don't think even Y/n is on speaking terms with Jos? She seems to avoid him

username5 Yeah, I've heard Jos tried to fix the relationship with his daughter but Y/n doesn't want it

username14 Queen behavior tbh

username12 Not really queen behavior. If not Jos, Max wouldn't win a single championship

username14 I'm sure abusing helped build up his career

username12 What abusing? Jos is a strict father, not a psycho

username14 "My father once stabbed a mechanic's hand with a fork 😁" and don't even get me started on Jos leaving Max alone at a gas station

alex_albon Look at the 5th photo!

↳charles_leclerc They're so cute together aren't they?

landonorris I think you meant the 4th?

alex_albon Nope 😊 pretty sure I meant the 5th

y/n_verstappen Lando and Max together are precious 🫶

username15 now... do we call them Maxando or Lax?

↳y/n_verstappen I vote for Maxando🖐️

landonorris yeah lol Lax sounds like short for laxative

y/n_verstappen I don't know about you, but I'm feeling twenty two

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francisca.cgomes Seems like a perfect night to make fun of our exes 🥂

↳username1 Uhhhh Kika? Are you and Pierre alright?

username2 They are lol that's just the lyrics

yourfriend1 Beach birthday party ☑ one thing less on the bucket list

username3 I need to know if any drivers where there

↳username1 Seems like a girly gathering from the photos

username3 Girly gathering is such a fun term, I'm gonna steal it

↳y/n_verstappen Just a few of them 👀

username3 LIKE WHO??

username4 I bet Lando

username3 Probably I guess? But that's one and she said a few

username4 I guess she won't tell us 😭

landonorris gorgeous as always ❤️

↳y/n_verstappen I love you ❤️‍🔥

landonorris love you more baby

y/n_verstappen Not possible, I already love you the most

maxfewtrell That's so cringe

alex_albon @/carlossainz55 what have you done 😩

carlossainz55 I'm proud of what I've done, I think their cringe is adorable

username3 So it was Carlos who played matchmaker between Y/n and Lando!

yourfriend1 I'll never thank Carlos enough, Y/n is so happy with Lando 😭

username2 I guess all we can do is be happy for them, even if they're cringy sometimes

username5 Oh look, Jos claimed to be trying to fix his family issues and yet he never wished Y/n a happy birthday, I didn't see him comment anywhere

↳username2 Are we surprised tho? Disappointed maybe, but surprised? Nope

↳y/n_verstappen Hey, the daddy issues made me a cool person. And also made Max a 3 times world champion which is also nice, but I guess I was more lucky here

username2 I LOVE YOU GIRL 😭🫶

maxverstappen1 Soon 4 times

y/n_verstappen You know even you're bored of it

maxverstappen1 Papa didn't raise no bitch

y/n_verstappen I know that, Max, I know...

y/n_verstappen I'm in love with this man🗣️it was my birthday recently, so pls win a race for me

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landonorris you know that does not depend on me🙄

↳maxverstappen1 That's not a world champion mindset🙄

y/n_verstappen Shut up for once and let him win!!!

maxverstappen1 If he wants to win he has to fight for it!!!

y/n_verstappen He's trying!!!

maxverstappen1 Apparently not hard enough

username1 Imagine being such a bad driver your gf has to beg her brother to let you win

username2 What? It's all jokes, you gotta be stupid to think they're being for real in these comments

oscarpiastri Lando should start wearing orange bows more often

↳y/n_verstappen I know right?! He looks so babygirl

landonorris can you not? that's enough that I let you post that last picture

oscarpiastri Calm down mate, the anger takes away your beauty 🥺

username3 Why's everyone making fun of Lando here?😭

carlossainz55 Didn't know you're such a talented photographer 📸

↳landonorris I could've taught her a thing or two😌

y/n_verstappen Wow, you were so quick to comment huh

landonorris just in case if you forgot to mention this

y/n_verstappen Carlos commented a minute ago?!?!

landonorris you had whole 60 seconds to say it and you didn't! someone had to

username2 Lando is such a baby 😭

y/n_verstappen Maybe. But MY baby.

username4 Do I want a gf like Y/n or a bf like Lando?

↳username5 I want both and I would take them both if I ever got a chance

username6 Hey so I need to know if Lando's dutch has improved since he's been dating Y/n?

↳y/n_verstappen He thinks he made soooo much progress, but that's a lie

landonorris Ik heet Lando :) ik hou van Y/n <3

y/n_verstappen Good! That's literally the basics!

username6 Isn't that really all he needs to know?🥰

y/n_verstappen Let's say it's alright for now 😌

charles_leclerc You teaching dutch to Lando reminds me of Arthur and I teaching you french😂

↳y/n_verstappen Except I'm a quicker learner

landonorris and somehow I've never heard you speak french 🤔

charles_leclerc She's traumatized ☹️

y/n_verstappen Yes I am ☹️ learning french in school was a nightmare and the Leclercs made me experience it again, it was lovely

charles_leclerc You're welcome 😊

landonorris now I understand it all, she's projecting her trauma onto me now

maxverstappen1 She's an evil woman isn't she?

landonorris the most evil, definitely

username7 HELP ME GUYS I've imagined Y/n teaching Lando dutch with the same passion Jos pushed Max into driving 😭 it's way too funny in my head

↳username6 Great! In a few years Lando should be fluent then! 😂

↳username8 Y/n is her father's daughter after all 💀

username9 Guys, remember the time Max corrected a french guy to "bonsoir" when he said bonjour? 😭

↳username6 bonsoir ☝️🤓

↳y/n_verstappen As he should! Sometimes you gotta correct even the native speakers

maxverstappen1 At least I can speak french

y/n_verstappen Me too!! Een beetje

landonorris wow it must be een very tiny beetje

[chilumi-shipper]

Ready to Let Go

Xiao x Adeptus!Fem!Reader (x Zhongli)

Summary: Zhongli loves you, Xiao loves you, You love Xiao. Seems as though, in the eyes of everybody else, Zhongli was gonna be a problem within your relationship with your fellow adeptus. He would never do that though, not to you, not to Xiao. For the first time, the vigilant yaksha seems happy, and you seem more carefree the moment you two are starting to get close to one another. Zhongli would never trade your happiness for the sake of his own, and that's why, he's ready to let go.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The God of War, flaunting over one of his very own dearest adeptus, if Guizhong saw him right now, she would've laughed at how much he jumped and flaunted over you whenever you were in his presence.

But love is complicated, he could say he loves you with a burning passion, yet it can never change the fact that you had fell for another, no matter how much Zhongli might push through, you will choose to be embraced within the arms of your true beloved, Xiao.

Neither you nor him ever said anything to confirm the nature of your relationship, but Zhongli felt it, the connection between you and the adeptus was so much more than just two people who used to work along side each other. You and Xiao, he's known both of you for millennias, you're not really the greatest with expressing emotions.

Zhongli was never one to fight reality, in fact he accepted it with open arms, having no care for the pain it might bring.

But just this once, he let's himself drift to a false hope, perhaps you only see Xiao as a friend, that in actuality you tell him the feelings that you're too scared to say to your Archon. But every time Zhongli dreamt like that, he can't help but see Xiao, sadness clouding over him, it slaps the brown-haired man in the face.

He can't do that to Xiao. The poor boy, tormented his entire life, but today, he may very well be bearing a smile on his face, with you around him, with you loving him.

He was sitting between you two, in a table in Wangshu Inn's restaurant area, the light atmosphere was calming.

It was supposed to be a nice get together, yet Zhongli felt irritated. The way your gaze lingers past him and onto the person of your interest as you spoke about how you tried cooking mortal food recently. How you seem to take into account every expression and response Xiao would give, but pay no mind to Zhongli at all.

You weren't being rude and ignoring him the whole time, in fact, you make eye contact with him from time to time, to see if he's understanding you. But Zhongli felt peeved, why couldn't you look at him the way you looked at Xiao?

"I really like cooking actually!" You exclaimed, the cat-eyed adeptus smiling softly while listening to your rambles, his elbow resting on the table, while his chin leans on his hand. That makes Zhongli feel even worse for having such feelings for you, just looking at the small but genuine smile on Xiao's face as he admires you.

"Xiao?" You softly called out to him, clasping your hands together. The adeptus gave a hum in response. "There's this recipe I found called "Tofu Cookies with Almonds", I was hoping you could help me taste test them when I try baking for the first time?" Your voice gets quieter the more you say. Zhongli found it adorable when you get shy, yet he can't help but feel a nauseous felling eating away at his skin, you didn't invite him.

The waitress puts the food you all ordered on your table before Xiao answers. Zhongli looked into your eyes, seeing the nervousness as you anxiously wait for an answer.

"Okay."

Golden orbs then looked at Xiao, seeing he's looking away from you, his ears red from embarrassment. Yet even when he tried to hide it, the Archon can feel his giddiness from miles away.

Zhongli can't help but look back and forth, seeing your eyes light up with happiness because of Xiao's answer. "Thank you so much!" You smiled brightly, proceeding to put some food onto your plate to start eating.

In all this, Zhongli felt as though he didn't have a place. Perhaps you were overjoyed that you didn't look at the fact that you completely discarded him, but someone else noticed.

"Mora- Zhongli can join us too, he's good at taste testing food." Xiao looks at you, before looking at the taller man. "I think." Zhongli then nodded, agreeing with Xiao's statement.

He knows he shouldn't, he knows that he just let the two of you resolve your feelings together, just the two of you. Yet he can't, for once in his life, he feels that it's too hard to let go.

The two looked at you expectantly, despite you making it obvious that you wanted to spend some time with Xiao alone, Zhongli hoped that maybe, just this one occasion, you'll let him intervene with your growing relationship. It's selfish, it's pointless, but just this once.

You smiled, "Okay."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Mr. Zhongliiii!" You burst in the funeral parlor, calling out to him. "You have to help me." The man got up from his seat immediately, worried.

"What happened?!" He asked in a panic.

You looked down onto the book in your hands, the man did the same, looking at a book that has a very interesting title.

'The Art of Romance: For Newbies.'

What?

Usually, if you were to come to him with a book like that in hand, he would have laughed and teased you, eager to see your embarrassed state. Yet, Zhongli felt nothing but hopelessness, you putting in so much effort for someone else, meaning he really has no chance, does he?

"I need to you to help me look for a really nice dress. Like really, really nice! Oh but not too nice, since we're baking, if I get stains on a dress, he might think I'm sloppy. Oh, but if it's too simple, he'll probably think that I don't really care. Ohhh, but I don't want to seem like I care too much--" You looked up at him, rambling on and on about what you're supposed to wear for tomorrow. "It says here that if the person thinks you're too desperate, they might think it's weird." You pointed at the book that you're holding, bring it closer to his face.

Zhongli gently grabbed your hands that are clasped around the book. "If you're worried about Mora, I already have some on me." You peaked your head from behind the book, looking at the brown-haired man's serious face.

"Him?" Zhongli completely ignores your ramblings, only focused on one thing you said. You're worrying so much about what to wear, just to make a good impression to him.

You felt your cheeks heat up as he looks at you with a frown on his face. You laughed a bit to ease the tension, scraching the nape of your neck.

"Xiao..." He's mentally prepared himself for this moment, you would come to him, ask for advice since you knew him as a very cultured man, and you would confess your love, for someone else. And yet, hearing it come from your own lips seem to crack the barriers of his heart with just one word.

Despite the tears wanting to just slip out of his golden orbs, he smiled at you. "I've always sensed your feelings towards him." His words fluster you even more, you didn't realize it was so obvious, but Zhongli was a very observant person, maybe it was just that.

"Do you wish to impress him tomorrow? That's why you're so... jumpy today?" You nodded, feeling embarrassed that you are worried about this sort of thing. Usually, only mortals are prone to these types of worries.

"Y/N, Xiao doesn't care about those trivial things. You just have to be yourself." He told you as a matter of fact.

'Besides, the Yaksha already is making it obvious that he likes you back.' Zhongli kept this thought internally.

"But what if he doessss." You whine, gripping on the book tighter. "Xiao is just so.... Xiao! So unpredictable and complicated." Sighing, you looked up at the man again. "Can you help me, please?"

Zhongli sighed, although it hurts him to help dress you up so pretty, just to send you off to another man, but he'll bite. How could he ever say no to you.

After hours of rummaging through your closet, you finally, finally find something that's actually good in your eyes, even though Zhongli assured you that everything would be fine.

The dress of your choice has Xiao's colors, white, gold, mint green. You really are some piece of work, piece of work that doesn't belong to him.

Zhongli just kept sighing as he walked back to the funeral parlor, he's conflicted, which usually doesn't happen. Is he just gonna leave you two alone for tomorrow with some lousy excuse, or... get in the way.

As he got to the entrance of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, he saw Xiao, sitting on a bench just outside. The cat-eyed boy sensed Zhongli's presence, standing up and looking at his way immediately.

The brown-haired man walked up to him, silently asking why he's here all of a sudden, in the city, which also doesn't happen very often.

"Can you help me?"

Oh boy, here we go again.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"You don't have to straight up lie if you don't like her treats, you can just give polite comments, like saying you're not really a big fan of them or something." Zhongli explained once again, it was the dead of night. Xiao had asked to help with how he should talk to you, he's not very talkative and expressive, but he doesn't want to make you feel like he doesn't like you.

"But that might also hurt her feelings." The Yaksha pointed out, listening intently to the older man.

"Yes, but she will appreciate the truth rather than a pointless lie."

He just needs help expressing his feelings right.

And Zhongli seeing how you two desperately try to be the best you can for one another, it makes him smile, despite the constant heart ache. And the realization that he has no chance for you, with the evidence right in front of him, Zhongli makes his decision...

He's ready to let go.

"I'm not gonna be joining you two tommorow."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Alternative Ending: Ready to Hold On - Reader chooses not to choose and start a polyamory relationship.

[dendrite-blues]

For a relatively short exchange, this scene is jam packed with characterization for Loki. 

It’s also our first reliable look into what Loki was like before Thor 1. Not as described by others, but first hand and from his own mouth. I think that deserves a closer look, to see what we can learn about Loki and how he thinks.

This scene is significant because it tells us what Loki’s personality is like when he’s not running for his life. It tells us who he was before his trauma and what his core beliefs are underneath those layers of humor and bravado.

Better yet, since he’s alone we can assume that every line in this scene is presumably true, or at least Loki believes it to be true since he has no audience but himself. 

The dialogue centers mostly around the statement “You deserve to be alone, and you always will be.” I’m not going to focus too much on the “alone” motif since I already dedicated an entire meta post to it.

What I think is more interesting about this scene is actually the looping, and the stages Loki goes through in trying to deal with it. There’s a lot of really interesting character traits on display in that progression.

Loop 1: A Warm Bath and Glass of Wine

The first loop entails Sif lecturing Loki about cutting her hair, kicking him in the balls, and storming away. Loki kneels on the floor and he gives us this great line:

“A bad memory prison? How quaint. Some punishment. I remember exactly what I did after that. I went and had a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine, and I never thought about it again. Because it was just a bit of fun.”

So we can take this to be Loki’s default reaction to pain and criticism. When put into an unexpected conflict without any forethought or outside influence, this is what he says/does.

1) Downplay the damage/threat. How quaint. 2) Dispel/soothe the emotion. Nice hot bath. 3) Minimize the impact. Never thought about it again. 4) Deflect responsibility. Just a bit of fun.

Keep those in mind as we move forward, since we’ll be using them to make sense of what else Loki says in this scene.

Loops 2 and 3: Okay, Sif, Hang On

This bit is about Loki realizing just how bad his predicament is.

L: Okay. Okay, Sif. Hang on. S: No, you hear this. You deserve to be alone... And I always will be. L: Alright, I get it. Listen. You are a reconstruction of a past event created by the organization that controls all of time. So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah? S: Pathetic. (she kicks him again) L: (winces and groans)

As we all would expect from him, Loki’s first impulse is to try and talk his way out of it. What he says to achieve that goal is pretty revealing though. Because he doesn’t try to ease Sif’s upset by apologizing or explaining or offering to magic her hair back. 

Any of these would have been more likely to save his nads in the given circumstance, right? The present threat is Sif, and she’s mad about what Loki did to her hair. But Loki doesn’t really see that. Rather, he treats her as a means to an end.

“So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah?”

To me, that choice reveals something of a blind spot Loki has to the feelings of others. Even if he doesn’t actively like hurting people, he does prioritize their problems below his, and quite shamelessly. And at least on his first impulse, he doesn’t seem to feel much remorse or empathy for them.

Usually in fanon we attribute this callousness to his trauma. He’s learned that no one can be trusted and no one cares, and so he doesn’t allow himself to care for others. 

But between his Loop 1 sentiment of “It was just a bit of fun” for an event which caused real hurt to Sif, and his Loop 2/3 behavior of “you, stop being mad and help ME” I think it’s reasonable to say that selfishness/low empathy are traits Loki possessed pre-trauma.

Loop 4-????: Happens Off Screen

It’s unclear how many times Loki loops while the camera is following Mobius, but the implication is clear that it was been many, many repetitions. Somewhere in this his denial and deflection must break, because we come back to a much humbler, more pleading Loki.

The Final Loop: I Crave Attention

S: You conniving, craven... L: Sif. Sif. S: ...pathetic worm. L: Please, please, no more. Please, I beg you. I'm a horrible person. I get it. I really am. I cut off your hair because I thought it'd be funny. And it's not. Uh... I crave attention... because I'm... a narcissist. And I suppose it's... It's because I'm scared of being alone.

HOOO BOY, so this is quite a tough bit to analyze. There’s a lot of interpretations you could make, and a lot of topics to delve into. For the sake of focus, I’m going to ignore the narcissism question. That one really needs an entire post, and I want to focus on something else here.

That being, Loki’s way of processing conflict/punishment.

I’ve always found it strange how Loki takes such pride in being called a liar and cheat when he simultaneously has this chip on his shoulder about how nobody likes him. 

Those two traits don’t seem to play well together, and I always scratched my head over how they coexist in his character. If he wants people to be nicer to him, maybe he should stop antagonizing them? Yeah?

Well, here we’re finally given a clear reason. Loki craves attention, he hates being alone. So how does he avoid it? Pranks and mischief. 

Fair enough.

But then, if all his pranks lead to this outcome--outrage, retaliation, insult--why doesn’t he ever learn? How is it that after 1000 years of this behavior, he hasn’t found a better way to get the attention he craves? 

Loop 1: Downplay, dispel, minimize, deflect. He accepts zero accountability for the impact of his actions, and doesn’t think at all about how they affect other people. Just a bit of fun. I had a hot bath and a glass of wine, and never thought about it again. 

The only reason he reaches the level of self awareness on display in the Final Loop is because the looping forces him to contemplate his actions and the impulses within him that lead to that behavior.

This is projection on my part, but to me he acts as though this kind of deep reflection is a new thing for him. He sounds like someone sharing a revelation that he’s just had about himself. We’re being shown that Loki is a man of action. He will always move forward if he can, possibly because looking back to so painful that he can’t bring himself to do it.

Circling back around to the pride Loki has for his knavery, let’s suppose that he’s been on this negative reinforcement cycle since childhood. He’s always acted out to get attention, then received retaliation and insults for it, and then pushed the bad feelings out of his mind with creature comforts and mental gymnastics.

What happens over time, when you’re being constantly told that you’re a pain in the ass and no one likes you? Most of us would take it to heart, but Loki doesn’t. He has a big ego, big enough to resist that constant barrage of hate coming at him.

So how does he marry these two conflicting realities? 

He turns it into an identity, the God of Mischief. 

In his head, Loki excuses himself of blame by shifting the culpability to his moniker. It’s not that he’s immature and petty, he’s just a “trickster.” It’s in his nature to cause trouble, so he can’t help it. You wouldn’t dangle a steak in front of a tiger and blame the tiger for striking, would you? And if other people can’t take a “joke” then that’s not his fault, that’s on them for not having a sense of humor. It was just a bit of fun.

Here we see the union of these two halves of Loki, the lonely ice runt and the mischievous scamp. (And a little bit of the original Loki who Thor accused of being incapable of growth!) 

By refusing to think about others, and excusing himself from responsibility, Loki successfully preserves his self worth and insulates himself to most of the negative emotions he experiences.

Pain, embarrassment, and grief aren’t pointless emotions though. They are vital feelings that serve to regulate our behavior, and that push us to conform to the ways of our social circles. Without them, we annoy and upset others. Be annoying for long enough and you will eventually find yourself, well, alone. As Loki is.

Thus “Mischief” is a self-defeating loop, and Loki is just as caught in it as the cell Mobius trapped him in.

In order to be free of both traps, Loki has to stop running. He has to take a deeper look at himself and realize how much he is getting in his own way. The entire scene is one big parallel between these two “loops.” Pretty neat, huh?

Sadly these kinds of thought loops are really difficult to break, they’re buried so deeply in our personalities and habits that we usually don’t notice them until life forces us to address them.

The cell is Loki’s wake up call, and thankfully he does seem to rise to the occasion. He tells Sif quite clearly what his problem is, and he does it with beautiful, painful honesty.

Which is why it’s so fucking awesome for Mobius to acknowledge that, and to finally give Loki a taste of positive attention. 

You don’t deserve to be alone. I believe you can be anything, even something good. Whatever you two did, it was powerful enough to bring this whole place down.

It’s a beautiful scene. Well written, meticulously acted. The clarity of vision in the pacing and shot selection, it’s really something special.

[galaxxiwrites]

Heya! =D so you can decide if you wanna do it, but can you do a headcanon reaction of how Akira, Zakuro and Mizuki would react to their darling protecting them like a shield when they noticed that someone was about to try and hurt them and ended up getting badly injured from the hit. Again completely fine if you ignore this request.

Angst? *cracks fingers* Hegg yeah.

warning: these ended up being super long

edit: I forgot to mention, it has mentions of blood and shot!!

prompt: You and your lover were merely enjoying your date together, until you noticed a glint of something hiding in the shadows. It wasn't until you heard a loud bang did your mind register it was a gun. Despite your confusion, your body moves faster than your mind processes anything and you shove your lover away from the bullet's path—unfortunately leaving you to take the bullet in his stead.

Taking a hit (ft. Mizuki, Akira & Zakuro)

Mizuki

Mizuki is stunned. His mouth agape as he stands there, unsure of what to do first.

His mind wrestles with thoughts of getting the bastard who shot you or helping you, but when he sees the pool of blood slowly growing bigger, his body moves by itself.

"Hey...hey...! (Y/n)!"

Mizuki screams and shakes you, but your lack of response makes his heart drop.

He's racing to grab his phone, and his hands were too shaky to properly work the touchpad, but despite the odds he was able to properly pick out Kokuyo from his list of contacts and calls the one man he looks up to.

"Mizuki, what is it? We're in the middle of practice—"

Kokuyo sounded annoyed, but immediately fell silently when he heard Mizuki's sobs.

"Kokuyo...what do I do—?"

Mizuki can't talk properly, but does his best to explain the situation to him.

Kokuyo tells Mizuki to wait there with you while he calls an ambulance. Not like Mizuki had much of a choice anyway, as he didn't want to leave you alone.

The ambulance arrives after what feels like forever, and Mizuki's sobs that finally dried a while ago start up again as he sees you being whisked away into the vehicle on a stretcher.

For the remainder of what happened, it was all a blur to him. All Mizuki remembers was crying in front of the ER while they worked on stabilizing your condition.

After those gruesome hours of worrying, the doctors finally leave the ER. They tell Mizuki they did what they could—and that your chance of survival was 50/50 at best.

Mizuki was about to beat the doctor for not doing a better job of saving you, but Kokuyo stopped him before he could grab the doctor by the collar.

Mizuki asked for a few days off Starless, and even asked Sotetsu to dig up some information on your the attacker.

"Don't worry, (y/n). I'll make sure whoever did this to you is gonna pay."

He says, though not really waiting for a reply. After all, how could a person in deep slumber ever answer back?

Akira

Akira immediately calls the ambulance, and tells them everything despite his shaky voice almost failing him multiple times throughout the duration of the call.

Akira also tells Kokuyo about what happened, and excuses himself time off from Starless until he was assured that you were no longer in critical condition.

He stayed up all night outside of the ER, unable to even sit down despite his feet almost giving out from the fatigue of him pacing back and forth.

"We tried to close the shop as fast as we could. How is (y/n)?"

Takami asks, shocking the daylights out of Akira who was too focused on his thoughts of you to even realize that they arrived.

Akira's voice failed him. All he could was stare blankly back at the doors leading to the ER room, where you were.

Some time after, some doctors and nurses finally left the ER room. The one handling your operation told Team W that your condition has stabilized, and that you should be fine soon.

Finally, Akira was able to calm down. He just dropped to the floor, his whole body trembled as a murmurs of relief could be heard.

Taiga on the other hand, decided to dig up some information. After all, the world now revolved around the internet—it wouldn't be surprising if some wackjob ended up posting whatever schemed they had on their social media, especially if it was a throw away account.

Luckily, this sort of thing was childs play for the tech expert, and after a few hours of searching, was finally able to trace the fake account to its real owner—one of Akira's delusional fans.

The singer is mortified to see the latest post on the person's social media.

"Soon, he'll be mine."

Again, Akira's nerves tensed. Kokuyo smacks Taiga for showing them such information when Akira hasn't rested yet, but the singer thanks his team member. He even commits the person's face to memory, despite his mind feeling light from all the stress and lack of sleep.

In the early morning after her surgery, a nurse was scheduled to come in to monitor on (y/n)'s condition.

Akira stands to greet the nurse, but stops himself when he recognizes the face. This woman was no nurse, it was his fan.

He absentmindedly mumbles the person's social media handle, staring at them wide-eyed in disbelief.

Hearing her name being called out excited the fan.

"Yes! That's me! Don't worry Akira...once I get rid of this pest, we can finally be together. Like how it's supposed to be!"

Akira couldn't fathom the words that came out of this deranged fan's mouth. Without realizing it himself, Akira had his hand clenched into a fist, ready to punch this lunatic and hopefully fix whatever brain wires needed repair.

"Oi, give it a break. Jeez, a man can't even enjoy a smoke break."

Kokuyo came just in time to stop Akira from beating the woman in front of him to death, meanwhile Sin held the woman down. Akira was about to ask how they knew, but Taiga waved his phone to show hom some kind of gps app.

"It's a tracker. I had a feeling she would be making a move, so I decided to track her phone. Sorry not sorry for invading on your privacy, miss stalker fan." The tech master announces proudly.

"Takami's gonna give her over to the police. Meanwhile...you should sleep. Those eyebags don't suite you, pretty boy."

Kokuyo says, before leaving with the rest of Team W to give the two of you some silence—one that Akira desperately needed as he finally dozes off to sleep on your bedside.

Zakuro

Zakuro has a menacing look on his face—it's a smile, but so distorted with pain that he looks like a maniac.

He shakes your limp body and calls out your name.

"O—ya...? (Y/n)...?"

Zakuro's voice cracks as he realized your body remained unmoving. Zakuro's mind is blank— for the first time he's never felt so lost.

It wasn't until he received a text message did his mind finally managed to start working again.

"Good job on luring her out, ×××"

Read the text message from the unknown number. It doesn't take a genius to connect two and two together, after all, no one should have known his real name. You were targeted by Black Card—but why? What did you have to do with any of this?

Zakuro, instead of directly calling the ambulance, texts Qu to do it in his place, as he knew their number two would ask later rather than sooner.

Zakuro hides himself among the crowd, but he feels his heart drop when he sees you out on the stretcher.

He wants to be there with you, at least holding your hand while they take you to the ER. But now was not the time, not when someone from Black Card might still be monitoring his movements.

He returns to Starless, and it was only until Kei asked Zakuro about the source of the bloodstain on his clothes does he realize his garments were soiled—with your blood.

Quite ironic, considering how this is the perfect literature imagery of a person's blood on one's hands. So ironic that Zakuro breaks down into a chuckle.

Team C's singer asks Kei for some time off on Starless. Naturally, Kei can't just give anyone time off, they were employees in an industry that requires one's constant presence to remain relevant.

Kei tells Zakuro that of the latter would explain, then he might consider it.

"(Y/n)...She was shot."

Was all Zakuro utters before taking his leave from the building. All the others who were in close proximity were shocked, not just at what he said but how he said the news. Zakuro sounded absolutely broken, his voice lost all hints of mischief he once had.

Zakuro wished he was able to visit you and give himself some peace of mind that you were going to be alright, but he can't.

He refused to rest, not until he learns everything. About your connection to Black Card, or why you were specifically targeted. He knows it won't be easy, but he's willing to risk it all for you.

"If you bastards think I'd choose my memories over (y/n), then you're dead wrong. All of you are going to regret this."

[keyofjetwolf]

What was your first?

So a horse walks into a rehab and says “ouch”. And not a lot. Then a great deal. While also saying nothing. It’s BoJack, in rehab, and going about as well as you might think!

“The Stopped Show” may not have been much about BoJack, but “A Horse Walks Into A Rehab” makes up for it by being 99.9% BoJack, setting aside the brief appearance of the other characters to set their stages for when we get back to them. Diane’s in a shitty motel, Todd’s in a seedy alleyway, Princess Caroline has her porcupine baby, and Mr. Peanutbutter continues to deliver cheer while everything around him burns AND drowns. I’ve now touched base with them about as much as the season premier, and we’ll get busy ignoring them.

As I said, BoJack is the star today, and we continue his quest for ... what, exactly?

Trying to pin it down, that “what is BoJack looking for” question, it’s a lot harder to answer than I expected, which marks another instance of me fucking myself, GOOD JOB ME.

I initially said “punishment”, but that isn’t true, or a least, is too easy. BoJack wants accountability for his actions -- which is a very different thing than punishment -- but he wants it in a way that also absolves him from having to do any work to rise above it. So you’d think he’d love this, the constant claim in rehab that he’s powerless. It seems like the answer to everything, a blanket pass to excuse his behaviour because he’s powerless. Why doesn’t he? I’m not sure I’m entirely clicking with the heart of that, so come with me as I have a poke at it.

For one, I doubt very much rehab would begin and end with “you’re powerless, oh well”. Addiction is some nasty business, but in and of itself, it’s a symptom, not the problem. That in mind, we swing back then to BoJack having to put in the work, only now it’s with the removal of his favourite coping mechanisms.

I think what he was hoping to get out of rehab was more along the lines of “Vodka is a naughty irresistible siren who topples even the most noble of men, but if you cross your eyes and click your heels, you’ll be free from her spell forevermore.” And yeah, no.

I think we get some of that in how, for a while, rehab seems to suit BoJack.

To the point I very specifically said to Doc as I was watching this, “Oh shit, did BoJack just become even MORE insufferable?” He’s okay so long as he has the comfort of the scripts and the regimented plant therapy and the same hike every day. When he starts to get fucked is when he has push further, when he has to work harder, when the treatment demands MORE.

“I notice you tend to deflect when I ask you about the source of your addiction,” his therapist says, causing BoJack to immediately deflect, first with a joke and then, when that doesn’t work, attacking the entire system. Getting to the root of his problem is the last thing BoJack wants, to the point where the entire episode ITSELF is one giant deflection. I made a joke in passing up there about our passing moments with each of the other main characters, but that’s actually it, that’s the heart of this episode.

Each of these are efforts by the episode to deflect what’s going on NOW, tempting us with something shiny and interesting, if only we’d take the bait. I ONLY JUST MADE THIS CONNECTION WELL FUCKING DONE SHOW

And of course, there’s Jameson’s story, which is part deflection, part contrast. She’s intended to appear at first like someone BoJack can relate to, a Sara Lynn Pt. 2 that he wants to save and in whom he sees so much of himself. In equal parts, he’s the adult trying to guide her and the force enabling her, and I’d have to do a bit more thinking on whether I thought his success with her was about him walking both sides of that line, or Jameson just, at the end of the day, being lucky. Either way, it’s also not really about her, so much as BoJack talking a really good game at her, while giving her all the tools to make the worst choices.

Which is, I think, where the episode finally settles. BoJack’s choices have been his own, but they aren’t made in isolation. Throughout this episode, we get moments, presented in reverse chronological order, that could on their own answer that key question: When was the first time you drank?

To settle your nerves to get through a scene everyone was counting on you to nail?

To fit in with the cool kids at high school?

To win your father’s approval?

What’s brilliant to me about each of these flashbacks is that the further into the past we go, the more willing we are to absolve BoJack. In the first, he’s a professional actor required to kiss an attractive and consenting fellow professional in the course of a performance. Nervous? Makes total sense. Getting plastered to do it? LESS SENSE.

The high school one is the most damning, which I adore. BoJack’s the butt of some light bullying by the jock, and I don’t mean to completely dismiss that it sucks, but the remainder of events before he starts in on the beers shows he’s hardly an absolute social pariah. And even if he were, once he begins to drink, BoJack doesn’t just become the life of the party, he becomes cruel (demonstrating quite well that jokes aren’t his only tool of deflection). Worse, that he KNOWS he’s doing it, but cares more about his positive attention than their negative. Still, BoJack’s a kid and peer pressure is a hell of a thing. This isn’t a good look, but it’s also not damning, if he’d come to learn from it. 

Now we jump the line to, I’d guess, ten or eleven year old BoJack, who walks in on his father having an affair with his secretary, but too young to recognize what he’s seen. Butterscotch can’t take the risk though, so he effortlessly manipulates little BoJack into getting drunk and passing out, then uses BoJack’s shame about it to keep him quiet on the whole evening. UNDER THE GUISE OF BEING HIS FRIEND AND DOING HIM A FAVOUR BY THE WAY. No question, Butterscotch is a son of a bitch, and the only thing BoJack did wrong here was crave his parent’s love.

Even with the high school one being a little more grey, they’re all pretty cut and dry. Remember that we’re following the thread of “When was the first time you drank?” and to land on the answer “When my unrepentantly dickish father lied to me to save his own ass” puts a pretty solid punctuation mark on the whole affair. Addiction may not be at fault, but Butterscotch Horseman is. Case closed, we can go home.

BUT WAIT WHAT’S THIS

Right at the end, when you think we’re done, there’s one more flashback. A party of some sort, possibly New Year’s. The house sounds empty, there’s only the looping of the record player, stuck repeating the same five seconds again and again and again. Butterscotch and Beatrice are passed out drunk, judging from the empty bottles around them. Was it a good party? A bad one? She has her back to him and they’re about as far apart as they could get while still remaining in the room, but also, nothing’s broken? It’s impossible to know.

What we do know is that BoJack, aged about where we saw him in the “Free Churro” flashback so maybe seven or so? Very young, at any rate, and he’s alone. There doesn’t appear to be anything in the room for a child, so it’s probably fair to say he wasn’t included in the festivities. Did he have something to do instead? His own party maybe? Friends to play with, someone to watch him? Did he even get dinner? From what we’ve seen, “no” is a much more likely answer to any or all of these.

AND NOW THE FIRST TO PUNCH YOU IN THE HEART

Tiny BoJack knocks back several gulps of vodka (like a fucking pro, may I add), then crawls onto the couch next to his unconscious mother, pretending for just a few minutes that she’s cuddling him until he, too, will fall into a drunken slumber.

RIGHT SO WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO WITH THIS JESUS WEPT

Had you told me “Just wait, seven year old flashback BoJack is going to muddy the hell out of this” I wouldn’t have ... okay, well, I know the show, so I probably would’ve believed you, but I would’ve been preemptively grumpy.

This isn’t his fault! But it is! This isn’t his parent’s fault, but it super super is! Nobody MADE BoJack drink the vodka, as the scene goes to great lengths to show. There is nobody to tell him to do anything at all. Beatrice is three fucking sheets to the wind, she has no idea he’s there and he could have pretend cuddled all night AND stayed sober. Did baby BoJack, like adult BoJack, take the drink to calm his nerves for an expression of physical intimacy? Would baby BoJack have even known that was an option? Remember, this is framed as the answer to the question “When was the first time you drank?” Not “took a drink”, but “you DRANK”, the phrasing of which I think is important. It’s all about the root of the problem. What I get out of that question is then is “the first time you drank to numb yourself”.

Baby BoJack is looking at this disaster, this mess that is his every day no matter how many party hats and streamers you stick on it, and he wants anything else at all. So he turns to the easiest thing he knows will take it away the fastest. The situation isn’t his fault. The opportunity isn’t his fault. But the response IS, in a way that EVEN AS I SAY IT, makes me feel shitty.

CONGRATS BOJACK HORSEMAN FOR MAKING ME SEE A LITERAL CHILD SLAMMING BACK VODKA STRAIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE AND MAKING ME GO “okay, but”.

SEASON SIX SHOULD BE A WALK IN THE PARK

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐰𝐨

full masterlist - fic masterlist

After her successful debut into the ton, Celaena Sardothein was much in demand.

The Hamel townhouse saw a constant stream of callers; many a gentlemen fawned over the charming, eligible heiress and many a visiting lady came with the intention of recruiting this new addition to their circles as a prospective bride to their own brothers and sons. Despite her determination to laugh off compliments and insults alike - or perhaps because of it - it was not long before she was declared at par with the most eligible debutantes of the season. How this distinction pleased the lady herself could not be discerned but regardless of whether or not she liked it, she was the talk of the season and invitations to exclusive events poured in. When she accepted an invite ti the Stanhope's dinner party, the rumor mill worked and it was not long before word reached Lord Fenrys Ashryver.

"This is all pointless," muttered James Galathynius to his cousin with a pinched expression on his face.

Lord Fenrys stared at him through the mirror, sprawled as he was on James' bed.

"Really, Fen," the incensed man tried, "I know how you miss my sister—we all do but I wish you would not raise your hopes again. It is simply not possible—"

"I know the last time we found a lead, it turned out to be a dead end," said Fenrys sharply, "but it's different now. I saw her. I am not so far gone in my grief that I won't recognise the girl whose portrait I see in your father's study every day, even if she has grown up quite a bit."

"She died in the fire."

"How do you know?" The familiar arguement from last week rose to the surface. "It could have been anyone! The anklet we retrieved from the little girl's body was the only evidence of her identity."

"The anklet, a man's body beside the girl's, the warehouse's distance from our estate, it was all too coincidental."

"I think our parents might have been wrong, Jem - it could have been a misunderstanding for all we know," he tried patiently, attempting to keep the frustration with his cousin out of his voice or expression. "There can be no harm in meeting her anyway, she still is the Hamel heir after all and I know you wanted an introduction; once you see her, you will know why I am so sure."

"If you insist, I will meet her," said James. "I fear you are setting yourself up for disappointment."

"I think you will be pleasantly surprised."

James regarded his cousin. "I hate to say this, Fen—"

"Then don't."

"—but it could be an impostor too. My sister had a significant inheritance, and father recently changed his will. Aelin's assets—"

"Aelin's assets, whatever they are, can be nothing compared to the Hamel fortune."

James frowned, knowing he was backed into a corner. "If we are, I should like to inquire into her background as evidence."

Evidence.

Fenrys wondered if he meant evidence against his claims or to support them but he readily agreed that it was the wisest course. Promptly, a note was sent to his solicitor to make discreet inquires about the Hamel business, the owner and his adoptive daughter. The solicitor, Mr Stone, was a competent man and it took less than two hours to provide the basic information: the Hamel's townhouse address, their rumoured income, her dowry and the stories around Miss Sardothein's 'adoption.'

"She isn't Arobynn's adoptive daughter like everyone assumed then?"

Mr Stone said, "Arobynn did adopt her, to be sure, but only on papers. Arobynn found her in the slums of London when she was but five, and persuaded the Rhunns—who have long been his dearest friends and loyal clients—to take her in. By all accounts, it looks like he took an active interest in her education but it was the Rhunns who raised her until Arobynn amassed for himself a big enough fortune, bought an estate or two in the countryside and took her in."

"How old is she now, do you know?"

"The young lady is eighteen or around, sir, though no one can be sure."

Fenrys shot a look at his cousin.

"And what can you tell us about the Rhunns, Mr Stone?" asked James.

"Nothing good, sir."

The cousins shared a look.

"Thomas Rhunn was a country gentleman until he lost his estate in gambling and like. He has been the Hamel Corporations' prime investor since it was founded some twenty years ago—that's where his fortune comes from," said he. "You will be interested in the bank records, sir, I think—he, uh, he gets an yearly sum of five thousand pounds every year from an anonymous account since 1798."

"The year they adopted Miss Sardothein?"

Neither cousin mentioned it was also the year Aelin had 'died.'

Mr Stone went on. "It is my belief, sir, that the money was for raising the young lady - the timing certainly matches - but it is not one of Arobynn's shell accounts."

"So you think someone else is paying the Rhunns to raise her?"

"I am."

"Their financial situation," James wondered how he should broach this, "Do you think they might employ deceit to secure wealth or position?"

Fenrys gave him an annoyed look.

Mr Stone, thoughtfully said, "Thomas Rhunn is a clever sort of man, sir, but too lazy for something so devious and his wife—a more insipid, unintelligent creature doesn't exist. The daughter, though, she is an ambitious one like her godfather." He hesitated, but the gentlemen looked so interested, he continued. "But I—I think, from what I heard, she is devoted to her trade and quote adept at it. I could not believe her capable of deception to achieve that."

The gentlemen sincerely thanked him for the information and he departed.

Fenrys turned to him. "So?"

"So?"

"So did you see the many proofs?"

"I didn't see any proofs, Fen. So she's the same age as our Aelin and she was adopted."

"The same year as Aelin disappeared!"

James frowned. "That doesn't mean—"

"Yes, it does." Fenrys huffed, more hopeful than ever. "To quote your own words, 'tis too much of a coincidence.'"

He fell silent, eyes shut and took a deep breath. "It's too much. If she is—If she didn't die, you know what it means? Edward has been a shell of himself all these years, my father—he is, he is on his deathbed and Aedion joined the army—he is on the continent somewhere and we might never see him! All those years we lost grieving, and she might never have been dead. None of us even thought to look! If we had, If I had... perhaps she would have been found sooner? But no, I wish to see her first. I will not worry about all that until I am sure."

Fenrys placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it will be hard and I am sorry for the years you wasted," said he with a calm, reassuring smile, "but all is not lost. If tis really her, your father could see her and know she is alive before he passes, Edward could finally let go of his guilt and have his sister back—he might even die of happiness—and we will call Aedion back; he will come once he hears she is back. Tis not too late to fix everything and save the years we all still have left."

"If it is her."

"I hope, that is, I really hope that it's her."

"Indeed." James nodded. "I hope so too."

"You said she is here?" Lady Perrington looked faintly scandalized.

James rolled his eyes as the crowd turned to look at the doors where a tall, blonde woman stood on the arm of a red-haired man. The room broke into furious whispers.

Beside him, a lady—Mrs Evans, perhaps?—tittered with a companion. "My George said she is not even legally adopted, you know? You don't stand that close to your godfather." This was meant to be a whisper but her voice was too nasally, the words carried over the room and people shared alarmed looks as the object of this conversation walked towards them. The woman kept talking, entirely unaware, "I could never countenance the very thought that she is to inherit a trade empire. All of her dowry will not find her a suitor if she acts like a man."

Miss Sardothein stopped in front of them. "My dear Mrs Evans! I am so grateful for your concern for my marriage prospects." Both ladies tilted his head curiously. She pressed on. "You of all people will understand the importance of caution, I am certain." Her back was towards him but he heard the smile on her face as she spoke. "Is dear Mr Evans' gout any better now?"

James choked on his drink and sputtered. Fenrys winked at him from across the room.

Mrs Evans' face turned red.

Lady Perrington jumped to her friend's rescue. "Miss Sardothein, why, it is such a surprise to see you here! Lady Stanhope has certainly been," here, she pursed her lips and then, commented in a suggestive tone, "liberal in her choice of guests. Your godfather," she nodded towards that gentleman, "is in trade, I hear. Pray, what kind of trade, can you tell?" The guests had all abandoned their own conversations in favour of eavesdropping on this one. Lord Stanhope looked torn between amusement and alarm while his wife openly and unattractively gaped at the spectacle.

Miss Sardothein lifted a hand to dismiss the enquiry. "Oh, I can never talk business on social events but you may ask your husband at your leisure. Lord Perrington regularly invests in many of our ventures." Though the lady's back was turned to him, her voice was fierce.

"Such a devious creature," a familiar voice remarked.

Rowan greeted his cousin with a nod before fixing his eyes back on the drama unfolding in front of them.

Lady Perrington was looking around in search of allies among the onlookers but when no one stepped forward, she inclined her head, her face colored. "Indeed, I shall," she said and hastily excused herself.

Mrs Evans followed suit, eyes firmly on the floor and James almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

Before his apparent sister—how he scoffed at that notion—could turn, Rowan approached at her side. It was rare indeed that the dour man approached anyone first and never so readily. The novelty of that alone occupied his attention.

"Miss Sardothein." He bowed.

She curtsied with a smile. "Mr Whitethorn." Another man approached with a lady on his arm. "Lord Fenrys! I did not know you would be in attendance."

Lord Fenrys bowed over her hand. "I came as soon as I heard you were attending." She laughed at the gallantry—a sweet, tinkling laugh that caught his attention and he again ignored his heart's nagging— and he turned to introduce his companion. "Allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr Rowan Whitethorn of Harcomb, Doranelle and his wife, Mrs Lyria Whitethorn." Fenrys' dark eyes glinted and he smiled charmingly, letting a loose lock of hair fall on his forehead.

"I have already met Mr Whitethorn." Celaena smiled at the woman, then with a less pleasant expression towards the woman. "Mrs Whitethorn, it's a pleasure to meet you."

James had met Mrs Whitethorn barely once or twice in his life and only in passing. He had expected a genial creature, if perhaps a little reserved like her husband but she looked like a simpleton.

Though the fabric of her clothes was expensive and the stitching perfect, but the colour was dull and did no favours to her sallow complexion. Her neck remained unadorned and she wore no necklaces, bracelets or earrings, a fact made more pronounced by the tight modest bun she wore her dark hair in. By her appearance, she seemed more suited to a nunnery than to a fancy dinner party as the wife of a gentleman of rank. She exchanged curtsies and shared greetings but otherwise showed no inclination to converse and hastily excused herself as soon as was polite.

Rowan stood where he was, brooding, stiff as a board when the tradesman's daughter addressed him. "I thought you would be happy here, at least, for you detest balls but you are scowling still."

Rowan said stiffly, "I detest social events."

"Even when you don't have to dance?"

"Even then."

"I should like to hear why."

"I doubt you would understand."

"Come now, sir," said she smilingly, "Do not insult my intelligence by assuming that. Tell me and I might."

"It is not that. I—I do not—you will laugh but I hardly ever know what to say and often give offense where it is not intended." He turned to her. "You cannot have any such problem."

She arched an eyebrow in question.

He said, "You are too lively and charming, you could not possibly manage it."

"And people are too apt to forgive a pretty face in general," she agreed.

His lips twitched. "You claimed you were not a fan of convention earlier but I see you have no love for modesty either."

"For false modesty, I do not. I freely acknowledge vanity to be my chief sin." Then, she paused, "Your wife is, she is terribly shy, I think, but I hope you will not trouble yourself so much on her manner."

"I would say she is more unwilling than shy," said he with uncharacteristic openness. "I hope you were not offended."

"Oh, not at all—"

"Dear cousin," an enthusiastic voice cut through the din of polite conversation in the room, "You must stop monopolizing the lady's time. There is someone I should like to introduce her to—James. James, man, she's here, look. Allow me to present my favourite cousin, Mr James Galathynius of Graceview, Orynth."

James turned to them and bowed politely as she turned.

Then his face paled.

"Aelin." He forced a smile. "Forgive me, that is, you look exceedingly like—"

"Like five-year-old Miss Galathynius? So I've been told before," said she good humoredly.

James blinked disbelievingly. His vision blurred. Blonde hair. Ashryver eyes—that damning feature he thought Fenrys had been exaggerating about and the button nose that both, Aunt Evalin and his mother had shared. His cousin, noticing his preoccupation, engaged Miss Sardothein—nay, Aelin—into animated conversation as one thought after another crashed into his mind.

Thirteen years.

Thirteen years lost in grief and regret.

Thirteen years of seperation when they should have been searching for her.

Aelin grinned triumphantly from atop the maple tree down at her brothers, cousins and friends, dress torn and muddied. Her expression had the tiniest hint of pride as she placed herself on a sturdy branch.

"You shall fall down hurt yourself if you do not climb down, Aelin!" exclaimed Elide fretfully, twisting her muslin dress in evident distress. "And then what will we do?"

"No, no, I never shall," she insisted with a pout. "I can make this my home and you may visit me whenever you would like."

"But you cannot stay up there forever! You would feel hungry," reasoned the ever-responsible Chaol, biting his lip. Barely nine-years-old, he was the first to tattle on his friends when mishaps occured between children as they often do.

"James can bring me food," she declared haughtily, pushing one braid over her shoulder.

James grinned. "And whyever should I? You never do anything for me. I will let you starve a little perhaps. It may teach you a lesson."

"May the devil take you!"

Edward, ever the polite elder brother, reprimanded, "Aelin! That is not the language we may use." He was alarmed when her eyes teared up. "I am sorry, Aelin, love, will you not please come down?"

Aelin sniffed. "You are being mean and I will never talk to you."

"But will you not calm down before our father sees you? You would be punished." He frowned when the little rascal stuck her tongue out. He added, "If you come down, I will convince father to give Mrs Norris a leave for today."

"You promise?"

Edward nodded. "A gentleman's word."

She nodded uncertainly, then looked down and whimpered. "I can't."

Edward groaned, prompting the others to snicker at his expense. He extended his hands towards the tree.

"Climb down," he said, "James or I will catch you if you fall."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How do I know he won't let me fall?"

"You are our little sister, Aelin," Edward said resolutely, extending his hands further as James did the same. "He will never let you hurt, I promise."

"A gentleman's word?" This time, her bright eye were trained on James.

He nodded. "A gentleman's word."

But had he not broken his promise? She ended up in a tradesman's family so far from home while everyone thought her dead. A five-year-old alone in the streets of London with no family whatsoever, thought he with growing unease. How terrified she must have been! He turned towards her now.

Her eyes had always been bright and her disposition lively but it was all tempered with a quiet dignified sort of grace. She looked beautiful now, the roundness in her face gone and her sharp features accentuating that inner fire.

His little sister.

As impulsive and easy to provoke as ever and every inch the little terror he remembered, down to the sneaky smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. He blinked the tears back into his eyes.

"You would not object, would you, James?" asked Fenrys.

He startled. "Huh?"

"Miss Sardothein here expressed her interest in chess and I thought to invite her for her a game tomorrow in your house." He raised an eyebroe. "Unless you have any prior obligations?"

He did have prior obligations but he would cancel them all. "I would be pleased to have you there."

Rowan frowned, looking between the three of them as if he was missing something. "Is that not... nevermind, but perhaps you should consider bringing your mother along, Miss Sardothein, for propriety's sake?" James cursed the man for his caution. A private visit would be an ideal time to reveal all to her but not if she brought someone along.

Thankfully, she dismissed the idea herself. "I will see if I can get papa to come along but I am a tradesman's daughter, far too involved in the business myself. I am certain my reputation will not suffer for it, unless you mind." Both he and Fenrys assured her that they would not mind at all and James reiterated how sincerely pleased he would be to have her there.

"We will see how pleased you are when I make you eat your dust, Mr Galathynius," she teased with a grin.

James grinned back. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Dear Edward,

I know we are not in the habit of exchanging correspondence as brothers ought but I hope you will forgive me for the presumption. Certain events of note have taken place here recently, such that it necessitated that you be informed immediately. I have a shocking good news to impart:

Our dearest Aelin did not die in the warehouse fire. She is very much alive and well.

By some stroke of luck, cousin Fenrys came across her at a ball and you will be shocked to hear she is the sole heir to the Arobynn Hamel, currently known as Miss Sardothein. He insisted she was our cousin since his first meeting, though I refused to believe him but I met her today and there can be no doubt to her identity. Fenrys invited her to a chess match in the evening tomorrow, where we plan to disclose everything to her. Father has not been informed yet.

Make haste to London, brother.

Yours,

James

Edward Galathynius, the Viscount Milton sat in his armchair, stunned.

He had been the last person to see Aelin. He had stupidly left her alone on the estate grounds that awful day. He remembered his father's panic, his mother's disinterest and his little brother's distress. He had been thirteen years old, back home from Eton for the duration of the summer. He envied James who could look at their childhood—her childhood—with the rose-coloured veil of forgetfulness. James was four when she was born. He would not remember her first steps, her first words, the nights she spent in his bed when she escaped the nursery, her favourite haunts and mischiefs. James would be able to look at their time together without being wrecked with agony because of his grief, the guilt for his blunder, the irrational desire to have her back. James would not dream up variations of that cursed day repeatedly over the years.

"Aelin! Aelin, love, slow down, no, not there, yes, gods, Aelin!" Edward shouted behind her. "Your frock! You look wild—no, stop that, Mrs Norris will faint of horror if you are any more muddied."

Aelin stepped into one mud puddle after another. She sent dirt flying back at her proper, dignified elder brother who pinched his nose in distaste. "Now we are both muddied," said she, grinning over her shoulder. "You can tell her that we didn't see the mud and both slipped."

"And lie to her?" He looked horrified.

Aelin tilted her head, fussing over her hair matted with mud. "Is it a lie if we do it for the greater good?"

"The greater good?"

Aelin nodded, pleased with herself. "Of not letting her faint. She is so thin, I sometimes fear a strong gust of wind will blow her away."

She ran further, bursting into giggles every few minutes and by now, had both of them looking no less than two street urchins. He tried to be stern with her but it was awfully hard to remain angry at someone so determined not to pay attention to a word. He knew better than to scold her, lest she summon her tears. That never failed to make him comply with whatever she asked.

"Aelin, there's a hole there, be careful. Stop running, will you—Aelin!" It was too late.

Her right hand gripped her ankle while the other was on her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle her sob.

Edward frowned as she whimpered in pain. "I told you not to run, no, no, don't cry, darling, it will be fine. I shall call for someone." They had been out on the grounds for a while now and the manor house was far away. She was too heavy for him to carry so far and he did not want to hurt her further.

He patted her cheek affectionately. "There, now, you are a brave girl, and I need you to wait right here. I will run back to the manor and bring help, yes?"

She promised she would not and he hurried back to the house.

The rest of the day remained hazy in his memories. He had arrived back at the spot with his father, a growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach to find her gone. Search parties were organised and the merchants, locals and servants were all on alert for the beloved little spitfire. Day faded into night, then night into dawn when an express rider came with a letter from the magistrate and his father left the house in haste. He had chanced a look at his father's letter, his concern for her too great to worry about the impropriety of reading another's letter without permission. The contents read:

Dear sir,

I am afraid I have sad tidings to depart. One of the warehouses outside the town had caught fire the previous night and two lives were lost as far as we can determine. The first—a grown man, in his thirties or forties, has been determined as a local thief—and the second, a little girl, perhaps five or six years old. Her identity has not been confirmed but we retrieved a silver anklet among the remains. I beg for your assistance in identifying the girl's family. Do come as soon as you can.

Yours

Sir Arthur Renard

His heart pounded too loud in his ears. He felt hot and cold at once. He knew why only one ankle was retrieved from the corpse, because he had the other. It had fallen off her leg earlier that day and he had retrieved it with the intention to fix the loose lock on it.

His knees buckled.

"What happened?" James asked.

Edward shook his head, about to tell him not to worry. His words choked up in his throat and he excused himself from company, pale and ashen, his head throbbing. He ran up the stairs to his room, dismissed his valet for the night and slumped onto bed. The same bed he had shared with her on nights when she was spooked by thunder or some horror story Fenrys had related to her earlier that day.

Edward had left her there alone.

He buried his face in the pillow and wept.

Rhoe withdrew into himself after the funeral. Edward found comfort back at university, where no one or nothing would remind him of his loss, where he could avoid his guilt and pain.

Then mother died.

The summer visits to family became rarer and rarer. Father never insisted, retiring into his library, the one place where her presence was most patent and he was all too happy to remain where he was. The distance increased after he left university. His father preferred James' company, who was lively and good-humored and as James preferred the society to be found in London, they made the townhouse their home while Edward ran their country estates.

But now,

She is very much alive and well. His heart would not be satisfied.

He ordered for his horse to be saddled and riding gear prepared. The best of the family suites were to be prepared and aired out. She was alive and well, and soon, she would be back home.

Feeling happier than he had in months, Edward Galathynius spurred his horse onwards, fast as he could, to London.

I know I was supposed to update Cinders first but my brain insisted on rebelling and this is what happened. I will update that one soon tho, and I think you'll like it. 💖

tags:

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Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 2

Day 2 - There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate. 

Pairing(s): Romantic RoSleep (Roman x Remy/Sleep), background Analogical

TWs: Mild Swearing from Remy __

“No, no, no, you move my 3 O’clock to 4, my 4 O’clock to 5, then cancel it. I don’t even want to have to look at that scumbag from accounting today, babes.”

Remy kept taking on his bluetooth headset as he approached the Starbucks he’d grown so accustomed to. Normally just inhaling the scent of ground coffee, vanilla, and cinnamon spice would be enough to flood his stressed cranium with serotonin. But that wasn’t going to cut it today. 

Today he was on a mission; his soulmate timer had stopped during his visit here a week ago, and he was determined to find out who it’d stopped for. With his schedule cleared as much as possible, Remy walked into the Starbucks in his business attire, having only bothered to throw on his leather jacket when he’d left the office. Not that his outfit was unplanned, he had made a point of wearing the same white button up shirt, black waistcoat, and matching black slim cut pants he’d been wearing when he first noticed the timer had stopped. If not for making sure his soulmate recognised him, then simply because he looked damn good.

It was a gamble, assuming his soulmate would be there today, but by now he was desperate. Remy knew the rules; after exactly a week was up, his timer would disappear for good and he’d never know who his soulmate was. And he wasn’t about to let that shit fly. No sirree. 

“Now, which one of you is it?”, Remy mumbled under his breath. As he stood just about to open the door and leave, Remy had memorised the men who were present in the cafe that fateful day; eight potential men, two eliminated visually over the first two days when he noted their timers were still going. Another three all eliminated themselves the days following as they revealed themselves to be straight, in a relationship, and very straight, in that order. Remy sighed impatiently as he perused the last three men he’d narrowed things down to.

The first was a short, burly man with chestnut brown hair that tickled his button nose while he leant over to pet the outrageously cute border collie sat by his chair. His cheeks were dusted with freckles that drew attention to his mossy green eyes and sunkissed skin. The blue polo shirt and tan shorts he wore clashed with the fact he clearly worked hard labour in the outdoors. Remy guessed he worked with plants going by his scuffed and dirty boots, and the mud on his pupper’s paws. Remy dubbed him, unsurprisingly, Dog Guy.

The second, Space Cadet, was a far departure from Dog guy; his auburn hair and pale skin spoke of celtic origins while his numerous books concerning the far reaches of the universe spoke of the cosmos. Of a man who harboured an intense scientific curiosity as deep as his sapphire eyes. His black shirt hidden under a dark blue flannel shirt showed the insignia of the local museum, which Remy found fitting. In the nicest way possible, Space Cadet looked like he belonged there with his pristine glasses and tidy upkeep that bordered on neurotic.

And the third man, Anxiety Magnet, was once more a drastic change from the other two. Dark skin melted into an all black outfit consisting of a black hoodie sporting custom purple patches - perhaps he made it himself, Remy couldn’t be sure - alongside black ripped skinny jeans. His purple sneakers matched his nailpolish and eyeshadow framing heterochromic brown and green eyes. Every time Remy would scope out the young man, he’d always be anxiously biting his nails, fidgeting with his napkins, or doodling in the notebooks (Remy noted three different ones at least) he brought with him.

Remy was in for a loooong ride but hopefully today he’d finally figure out which of these lucky doofuses is his soulmate.

He walked over to the counter to order his usual drink, giving the familiar barista a nod as the man recognised him,

“Afternoon, Remy,”, the barista smiled, “The usual for our beloved fairy godmother?”

Remy rolled his eyes fondly, “Roman, babes, kindly shut up.”

Roman laughed, “Come now, wouldn’t want you turning into the Evil Queen, would we?”

“Joke’s on you, babes, I like the Evil Queen.”

Roman feigned a dramatic gasp, only returning to making Remy’s usual once he’d secured a smile from the stressed office worker. Remy twirled his lanyard in his hands; Remy Merryweather. Of all names to be cursed with around a Disney fan like the barista, it HAD to be one of the uncool ones. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Roman hadn’t insisted on labelling his drinks with “Flora”, “Fauna”, and “Aurora” ever since. Remy didn’t dwell too long on the kindly barista though, he was a man on a mission. 

Turning his attention to his first choice, Space Cadet, Remy watched him from the table he sat at; no wedding ring, his wrist was covered from sight, and he was most certainly gay going by the pride patches sewn into the backpack under his table. Perfect, he could just be the one.

As if on cue, Space Cadet shifted his watch and frowned. Perhaps he’d get lucky-

Ah, he’s leaving. Shit. Well, there was nothing else for it, Remy carefully nudged the trashcan by his seat as the man walked past, tripping him. The man let out a yelp and hit the floor. Remy was just getting up to help him when Anxiety Magnet came hurrying over out of the blue, 

“You alright?! That looked painful....”

What the fuck. Remy was about to speak up when Space Cadet locked eyes with Anxiety Magnet and for a moment the two were silent as the latter checked his timer, prompting the former to do the same. 

Son of a bitch.

Space Cadet sat up and reached a hand out to Anxiety Magnet, revealing that his timer had just stopped.

“Logan Baird, charmed to meet you, dear soulmate.”, he smiled warmly at the anxious man who helped him to his feet.

“Likewise,”,the anxious man responded, “Virgil Peyton. Nice to know my soulmate’s so handsome.”

Ugh. Remy watched as Space Cadet and Anxiety Magnet - or Logan and Virgil as he was now painfully aware - gathered up the fallen books and left together to go be happy and in love. While Remy could only watch as they did so. 

Fantastic. Well, at least he knew who his soulmate must be now. Who knew Dog Guy would be the top dog? Admittedly, Dog Guy was Remy’s last choice in a partner, but hey, after all the trouble he went to, he wasn’t about to argue with fate. Once Roman brought him his order - an iced, Ristretto, ten shot venti, with five pumps of vanilla, seven pumps of caramel, four packs of Splenda, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top with “Prince Phillip” written on the cup this time - Remy made his way over to the lucky fellow.

“Excuse me, mind if I sit here?”, Remy asked as he approached the Dog Guy. 

The man smiled warmly, “Oh, not at all, kiddo! Hope you don’t mind my dog or things might get ruff!“. The joke made Remy want to drive his head into the ground at mach speeds, but if they were soulmates, he’d learn to love it. Hopefully. Maybe.

“Like, no worries babes, your dog is totes cute.”, Remy noted the man’s cheerful smile. He sat down and offered his name, “I’m Remy, what about you?”.

“Ah, how rude of me! I’m Patton Fairchild! And this is Foster!”, he gestured to the collie, “It’s nice to meet you Remy!”. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad of a choice after all; he's bubbly, friendly, gentle, and Remy truly couldn’t deny the sexy lumberjack appeal.

“Likewise, though I hope I’m not intruding on anything here. Like, I don’t wanna take up your time if you’re here on a date or-”

“Goodness no, I’m not on a date! Don’t you worry, you’re not interrupting anything!”, he assured Remy.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t wanna get in the way of you and your soulmate, sweetie.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,”, Patton stated, sending Remy’s hopes soaring before they shattered on the marble floor, “I don’t have one. I mean, I love love and all that, but I never much felt the lure of it myself!”

God. Fucking. Dammit.

Remy’s face fell. None of them were his soulmate. He stayed to talk to Dog Guy- Patton for a while so as not to make the poor guy feel awkward, then watched him leave. Another failure with not enough time left to find his soulmate. Remy sat alone, sipping the dregs of his order. He ignored the constant texts from the office as he stayed til near closing time. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not paid attention when his timer hit zero? Maybe he deserved this; to be miserable and alone for his negligence. His soulmate probably wasn’t even missing him either. Or maybe they were and now they couldn’t find him-

“Mind if I sit here?”

Remy rolled his head towards Roman, taking in the sweet sympathy pouring from his rather lovely smile. In his hand he held a to-go cup and his work apron was replaced with a red and white letterman jacket. Great, now he was keeping the charming barista from going home. But when had Remy ever cared about not being selfish?

“Sure, take a fuckin’ seat, babes.“, he groaned, no longer caring about keeping up the facade of being more put together than he really was. Roman sat down with a concerned gaze and slowly slid the drink over to Remy.

“It’s green tea. It’s a little less extravagant than your usual tastes, but it’s good for relieving stress..”

Roman encouragingly tapped the cup lid, smiling contagiously, “And something tells me the Evil Queen has some tension she needs to release.”

Remy gave a slightly bitter laugh as he looked up from playing eye-contact-chicken with the table and noted the green tea read “Maleficent”. God, this guy’s such a dork.

“It’s more than just some tension, sweetie,”, Remy began, inhaling sharply as he sat up, “I’ve just realised I’m never going to find my soulmate. I was stupid. I wasn’t thinking and the moment I looked away, I missed him.”. The half-snort he gave came out so much more painful than intended, “I let my timer hit zero, babes, and now it’s almost been a full week. My last three chances just walked out the goddamn door. Two of them as fucking soulmates, Roman! How unfair is that?-”

Roman’s expression gave him pause. It wasn’t the sympathetic expression from before, more like he was seeing Remy for the first time. Like he’d made a cosmic realisation that was about to change his life.

“Your timer… when did yours stop exactly?”, he asked. The wording gave Remy pause as he realised. 

He hadn’t accounted for Roman. How could he have been so blind? Perhaps he couldn’t believe the charming barista could be the one. Perhaps he thought the man who smiled genuinely at him every day while he whittled down potential soulmates and greeted him with only the kindest of regards was too good for someone like him.

“It… stopped on Wednesday-”

“Around 2:15 pm? During the lunchtime rush?!”, Roman cut in excitedly. Remy was aghast as Roman pulled back the wrist of his letterman and revealed a stopped timer about as faded as Remy’s. With no hesitation, anticipation growing, Roman gently reached for Remy’s hand, which the latter offered enthusiastically. To their mutual delight, their timers disappeared, proving that they were indeed soulmates.

Both were stunned, Roman’s expression wildly happy, his brown eyes sparkling with equal elation and adoration. As Remy took in his gorgeous tanned skin, beautiful mocha hair, and that wonderful chiseled face he had the growing urge to caress and litter with kisses, all he could say in the moment was,

“Does this mean you’ll finally spell my fucking name right?”

--

This one was so much fun to write! I think this is the one piece of writing where I mostly nailed Remy’s character, so I hope this one does well TTvTT @tsshipmonth2020

[amedetoiles]

pls tell me your thoughts about the potential for wwx-jgy friendship? i just like the idea of them having similar experiences as like: poor street kid/poor brothel kid, would kill god for the people they care about, made of knives, incredibly charming and personable. i feel like they could have Seen each other and understood each other really well, and like, things would have ended up better maybe?

Gosh. Ok, so full disclosure before I answer this: I am really not the most sympathetic towards Jin Guangyao. I am just not a fan of him in any universe where he is complicit if not directly responsible for the death of his own child to protect his own reputation (up for debate, but nonetheless Jin Rusong fucking deserved better), gaslights his wife / half-sister into committing suicide, and has a monologue meltdown about how difficult his life has been to his own orphaned and bullied nephew whose childhood he had a hand in destroying. I am glad he got kicked down the same stairs twice, and I am glad Nie Huaisang beat him at his own game. All in all to say that my thoughts on him might be colored by this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But let’s get into this! Jin Guangyao is a great character foil to Wei Wuxian. The circumstances of his life that shaped his morality (or lack thereof) and the choices he makes in response are tragic and understandable. I definitely think Jin Guangyao could have been a different person, a better person, if his father wasn’t such a trash heap, if society hadn’t been such a gigantic dick about his mother, and if he hadn’t needed to claw his way into achieving everything he did. Wei Wuxian says himself that he doesn’t consider Jin Guangyao a villain.

However, I hesitate to say that had they struck up a friendship, Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian could have understood each other easily and that this could have changed things. Don’t get me wrong! I can definitely see how influence could have been made where a friendship between these two would have fixed it all. Or at least improved things. Especially in association with Wei Wuxian, Jiang Yanli’s nonjudgemental kindness (under the condition that nobody hurts her little brothers) would have been extremely refreshing to Meng Yao.

But I also think the differences between Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao would have made it difficult for them to truly understand and agree with each other. And it’s these differences that ultimately decide each of their fates.

I will try to organize my thoughts on this. First, the discussion of privilege.

1. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are not on the same privilege level.

While both Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are scorned in some way, shape, or form for their parents’ statuses, Wei Wuxian is still the son of cultivators. He is still the son of Cangse sanren, a disciple of a famed immortal. His pedigree and legacy are undeniable. Jin Guangyao, on the other hand, is the unwanted son of a lecherous sect leader and a sex worker. In a society where hierarchy and reputation is everything, this places Jin Guangyao in an entirely different pedigree in a way that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to understand.

Wei Wuxian is also brought into the Jiang sect and given a chance to cultivate at an early age where Jin Guangyao doesn’t. Wei Wuxian can punch the heir of a rich sect leader, leading to the dissolution of his sister’s political marriage alliance, and still get nothing but a slap on the wrist because boys will be boys. He can interrupt important post-war celebration dinners to tell that same rich sect leader to fuck off with his marriage proposal and then promptly skip away without any real consequences. He can accidentally send his friend’s little brother into a murderous rampage, and his own little brother will apologize on his behalf and offer to pay reparations.

Wei Wuxian may not have the same privilege as sect heirs like Jiang Cheng or Lan Wangji, but he has far more privilege than Jin Guangyao and Su She. This is important because it is this privilege that Wei Wuxian sacrifices later in order to the protect the Wens. I am not saying Wei Wuxian doesn’t suffer. He does, a truly horrendous amount, but even without his golden core, even when his self-worth is at an all-time low, he is still supported and protected by his status in the Jiang sect until he gives it up to do the right thing. Despite Lan Xichen and the Nies, Jin Guangyao doesn’t have this same kind of backing.

(With that being said though, Jin Guangyao does become Chief Cultivator, so there is only so far one can fall back on their disadvantages in society when they have already reached the top. Being marginalized is not an excuse to be a jackass to your nephew whose parents you had a hand in killing, just saying.)

One can argue that had Jin Guangyao been raised in the Jiang sect while Wei Wuxian continued to scrape for food on the streets, their outlook on life would have been completely different. But even taking into account Jiang Yanli’s overwhelmingly positive influence on a young Meng Yao, I am still inclined to disagree because of my next point.

2. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao are fundamentally different in how they respond/cope with public gossip and ridicule.

Wei Wuxian, for the most part, lets these comments roll off his back. This is not to say he doesn’t care or that they don’t affect him. They clearly do, and his actions, his self-perception, and his increasingly arrogant bravado as the story progresses reflect the deluge of verbal abuse he’s face with, largely at the hands of Madam Yu. But he copes by being loud, by being talented, by becoming even more outrageous and more unorthodox the more people criticize him. So what if people don’t approve? So what if people look down on his father and gossip about his mother’s supposed relationship with Jiang Fengmian? As long as he is true to himself and his moral convictions, he can walk this dark single plank road alone and without regrets.

Jin Guangyao, on the other hand, desperately and reverently wants to be included. He wants to be accepted, to be liked. He wants to be in the room where it happens. He takes every single comment to heart, carries every disdainful remark on his back like an open scar. He is both someone who loves and respect his mother and who hates her for the constant shadow she casts over him and his place in society. He will build a Guanyin statue in her likeness, in her honor. He will wear a hat because she once told him that a gentleman always wears hats. And yet, he will spend everyday of his life trying to rid himself of his connection to her.

Where Wei Wuxian recklessly cares too little about appearances and what people think of him, Jin Guangyao cares far too much. Wei Wuxian doesn’t give one flying iota about politics, about status and acclaim. He was perfectly fine with being a lotus farmer on a mountain. Even if Wei Wuxian had never been taken in by the Jiangs (and managed to survive the streets), I genuinely think he would still have been largely the same – a child who is kind, open, curious, and holds few grudges. I am not sure I can say that even under the best circumstances, Jin Guangyao wouldn’t have . It destroys him. .

This ties into my last point.

3. Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao have completely opposing priorities and beliefs on the worth of others.

Wei Wuxian will throw himself in front of anybody if his moral compass tells him it is the right thing to do. He is a genuinely open-hearted person who cares deeply about others and thinks it is morally corrupt to do nothing when something can be done. He is idealistic and optimistic, oftentimes to a fault. Jin Guangyao, as a result of his childhood and circumstances, is incredibly pessimistic and cynical. It is every person for themselves out here. The world is a crooked shitshow, conflict is inevitable, and he has to come out on top no matter what.

This leads to him sacrificing pretty much everyone in his life in order to maintain his own reputation. Like I do genuinely think Jin Guangyao truly cared about Jin Ling! I think he also in his own way cared about Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Nie Huaisang! But I also think a large portion of that is because he enjoyed how they made him feel. He enjoyed being liked and being depended upon. And we see clearly what happens when those benefits cease. Whereas Wei Wuxian would rather throw himself off a cliff than hurt any more people he loves, Jin Guangyao would rather push his own people off the cliff if it means his reputation and appearance remain intact. And if that’s not possible, he would rather set them on fire along with him.

This has become an entirely too long rambling essay to say that while Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao share similar experiences, their primary priorities are so different and opposing that it is hard for me to come up with a way in which a friendship between them could have changed things. Sure, Jin Guangyao could have benefited from Wei Wuxian’s unabashed and staunch defense of his friend. Anyone who talks shit about Jin Guangyao’s mother will get punched in the face, and it would maybe have made Jin Guangyao feel less alone in the world, less like he only had himself and his manipulative ways to seek acceptance.

But what happens when Wei Wuxian being Wei Wuxian runs around causing social and political uproar to do what he thinks is right? Is Jin Guangyao going to help and support him, or is he going to throw Wei Wuxian under the bus to protect his own reputation? Personally, I think the importance he places on public perception would ultimately be too great. It destroys his relationships, and it destroys him.

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Ooc: youve inspired me to start a project similar to this blog. Could you tell me a bit about your thought process coming up with the plot and stuff? And if you have any tips?

Woah! I’m really flattered I inspired you, best of luck with it and make sure to @ me when you make it I’ll be sure to check it out!

As for some tips, I have no idea if these are useful mind you as this is my first time doing this sort of thing but

I crafted the plot specifically around the idea that I would reveal it through a tumblr blog. Yes I would have some good shit posts, and some scenes that would work well for a fic, but the bottom line was that this was using the tumblr blog format, therefore I would have to craft everything with the weaknesses in mind, while also just turning up all the strengths to eleven

Moreover on that, I’m not sure exactly what aspects you’re deriving from here, but I also crafted the plot specifically around the fact that I cannot draw. So, I have to amp up the options I have for texts and fonts, which then birthed my character distinct font/color system. You might not notice it, but it’s a lot more immersive than just writing Asivus: Hello Arcadius: Hi there

On the final note of knowing my strengths and weaknesses, since I suck at drawing, I just decided to make that a part of Siv’s character. Siv, as you may notice, is the only character who is actually hand written, everyone else uses fonts. (There are actually two exceptions to this but, that’s a spoiler) I knew that viewer attention likes pictures, it’s going to be impossible to maintain attention on just text posts alone. So—shitty rat doodles. And if anyone calls me a bad artist, I can say that it’s just part of Siv’s character. Although, I suppose I blew that excuse out of the water just now

I do not consider this to be an ask blog. I know by all accounts it is, and honestly if I looked in my soul I’d probably find myself outright admitting it, but I find this to be a fanfic first and foremost. Remembering that it’s a fanfic is important for me, because I have to remember to stop and plan exactly what I’m answer and how I’m answering it, I can’t just jump at every ask and dump the whole character backstory, especially in the sense that I’m role playing every single one of these characters and that just wouldn’t be realistic

The Quill of Roost, believe it or not, was actually the very last thing I conceptualized about the plot. This is because originally, I was going to just have Asivus explain from the start that he ate a piece of Sheikah tech and could now hear things, and anyone in a radius around him would have the same gimmick of “answering” asks.

The reason why that was ultimately scrapped was because it grounded my story too much in the world of an “ask blog” with the idea being that the reason Siv answered questions was “just because” and then he would hang around the castle so Purah and Robbie could study him

So long story short for that part, my advice would be to ground your ask system in a way that makes sense and it original for your specific story/plot. It makes it more immersive, and also reminds you of the “rules” you have to follow, in order to keep yourself on track of actually telling the story, rather than just sitting around answering asks for an hour. Obviously that’s part of it, but don’t make it all of it

I’m not one to toot my own horn too much, but I’m pretty good at writing. Ironically, imagery is my favourite, but that’s pretty useless in the realm of this blog. On the plus side I’m pretty quick with dialogue, and I have spent a lot of time crafting the characters, both OCs and the Nintendo ones. There was an original concept for a third sibling in the Hartell family, and she would go on to have an important talk with Asivus during the rise of the Calamity (no spoilers!) but I scrapped her because I realized that even though I loved her, her role could be easily replaced by another more developed character. I think it works out for the best because this just allows me to give certain characters more “screentime” and love, though of course you should do what you want to for fun. Then again, the ultimate advice I have in that regard is to prioritize development of story and main characters first before you spend too much time with lovable side characters

Plot and character are not inherently seperate. Yes they have their differences, but if you make something that is “purely plot” or “purely character” you’re gonna have a bad time. A good plot is an external reflection of what changes your characters go through. And a good plot forces your characters to make decisions and actions, with thise decisions and actions showing their character traits. Plot is a constant waveform between characters reacting to something that happens to them, then giving their emotional reaction to the events, before make a choice that’s sparks the next events of the plot

A plotless blog looks like this: Hello I’m Asivus I don’t like my brother. He’s a perfect golden boy while I’m just the rotten scapegoat for when anything goes wrong. Oh no, I talked to Larc for one scene and now I realized that I’m just internalizing my insecurities and taking it out on him. Wait a moment where am I

A characterless blog looks like this: Hello I’m Asivus. Today I am going to go out for a stroll. Oh look it’s my brother he wants me to take a job at the castle, okay! Oh look, the Yiga are attacking, I am going to eat a quill now. Horray! The day is saved

Character provides the “reaction” part of story, the emotion and the stakes. Plot provides the “action” part of the story, the pacing and the movement. It’s easy to cling to character because it’s designed to be emotionally investing, but a good story utilizes both. Good plot provides good pacing for character. Just as an example: Siv going from reluctant employee to perilous hostage to active conspirator, is the plot device that paces the change from his apathy to genuine concern.

I don’t know if this is too broad or not or if you wanted me to be more specific to botw, but hopefully that was something if use. Feel absolutely free to ask more because I have many a thought about this and I would love the chance to rant again lol

Also please excuse any typos

[jessicalynnhepner]

What Every Parent Needs to Know About Child Sex Trafficking

For most police officers, this scene is a familiar one—a young kid gets mixed up with the wrong person and finds him or herself on the wrong side of the law. In virtually every case, this would be the end of the story. The young girl would get a slap on the wrist and be released into her parents’ custody where they could, presumably, set her straight. And, at this point in our story, Officer Scott was prepared to do just that—to trust the overwhelming testimony of prior experience and process this girl out so that he could get on with his shift. But, something was different this time… Discerning the SignsAs Officer Scott sits down to file his paperwork, he’s reminded of last Tuesday’s roll call.  His Sergeant, having recently attended a training seminar on human trafficking, used that day to teach his officers how to identify potential trafficking situations. All of a sudden, alarm bells start going off in Scott’s mind: The Fear — Sure, a kid’s going to be afraid of the consequences. But, this girl seems to fear for her physical safety. She’s acting like there’s something worse waiting for her than an angry mom and dad at home. The Stolen Merchandise – Why did she need a Red Bull and a pack of condoms? Scott recalled that traffickers use starvation to control their victims. Usually, their only choice is to steal the bare necessities. The Boyfriend – Per the owner’s description, this guy was at least 10 years older than she. What were they doing there together in the first place? A New ApproachWith these things in mind, Scott calmly invites the young lady out of holding and brings her to a quieter part of the station, away from prying eyes and menacing glances. She looks cold, so Scott hands her a sweatshirt. As he does, he notices a small tattoo of a crown with the name ‘Hugo’ scrawled beneath it—likely a brand to show who ‘she belongs to.’ They start to chat. This time, he speaks less like a cop and more like a friend. Clearly, she hasn’t had anything to eat for quite a while. Moments later, a female officer appears with a bag from McDonald’s. The three make their way to a private lounge. As they talk, the girl lets her guard down. Scott listens as she describes her broken home life, struggles with friends at school, and her constant search for belonging. All the while, her phone continues to buzz. “Your boyfriend?” “Yes. He just wants to make sure I’m ok.” He really is a great guy, she explains. He’s been there for her when her parents weren’t. He shows her the affection and attention she needs. She feels protected. He loves her……only, sometimes he makes her do things—things she would ordinarily never do. TrustHaving earned at least a glimmer of trust, Scott asks if she would slide her phone over. Reluctantly, she does, and he begins to scroll through the text messages. Wisely, Scott checks his emotions before he begins to read. It doesn’t take him long to realize these are not the supportive words of a loving boyfriend. No, they’re the verbal assaults of a degenerate thug bent on belittling her into submission. Scott does his best to hide his disgust as he reads about threatened consequences for ‘missed quotas.’ Horrified, he sees insults that no human being should ever have to endure, capped off by threats against her little sister for talking to the cops. Officer Scott thanks the young woman for her trust and politely excuses himself to make a call. He can read the writing on the wall: this girl is clearly a victim of trafficking. She needs someone with much more experience than him to help regain her freedom. He picks up the phone, dials his Sergeant, and together, they get to work. What Made the Difference?This story, though generalized in some ways, is rooted in the accounts we hear from police officers every day. The first part of the story is common enough. But, what about the second when, in Scott’s eyes, the girl goes from ‘shoplifter’ to ‘trafficking victim’? Not so much. So, how do we get from A to B? How do we help police officers learn

to look at each ‘punk kid’ as a potential victim, to ask deeper questions, and find the real story lies beneath the surface? Just as in Officer Scott’s story, that turning point comes when an officer recognizes the signs, trusts his or her gut, and decides to unravel that thread. It all starts with that one officer—a soldier on the front lines of the underground battle to set captives free. This can only happen when officials at every level of law enforcement learn to detect the signs and receive the tools they need to bring trafficking victims out of the cruel darkness and into the liberating light of day. National Human Trafficking Law Enforcement Training ProgramAt ERASE, one of the most impactful things we do is train police departments so that they produce more officers like the one in this story. It’s our mission to educate officers to detect the warning signs, identify potential victims, and safely lead them to freedom.  Your donations make this possible. Source Child Sex Trafficking-Not My Child Mom shakes her head and Dad raises his voice. Their 16-year old daughter storms up the stairs. As the bedroom door slams, she collapses on the bed with phone in hand. She’s ready to vent her frustrations one status update at a time. With every angst-laden tap of the keyboard, she lays bare her soul: “Nobody here gets me.” “No one understands!” “I feel unloved.” 📷An hour later, a boy from the next town over reaches out. She doesn’t know him, but they’ve got a few mutual friends, so it’s probably no big deal. He’s cute and thoughtful. And, he seems to understand what she’s going through better than anyone else. For the next two weeks, they exchange messages every day. He’s sweet, a digital shoulder to cry on when nobody else seems to care. They decide to meet up in person, so she borrows Dad’s car “to meet some friends at the mall.” That night, Daddy’s little girl doesn’t come home for dinner and Mom sits up all night. The next morning, they call the police. An officer searches her computer and finds evidence of the girl’s new relationship. Turns out, the boy she thought she knew didn’t exist. And, just like that, she’s gone.Reality check about child sex trafficking At ERASE, we hear heartbreaking tales like this all too frequently. Stories from average families dealing with everyday stresses when out of nowhere, their child is lured right out from under them. Whenever we tell these stories, the most common response goes something like this: “Child trafficking is something that happens to those types of kids out there. We live in a great community and our neighbors are good people who look out for one another. Something like that could never happen to one of my children.” This is the kind of response that makes us cringe. If only parents knew what we know, they wouldn’t be so quick to ignore this real and pervasive threat. Sadly, that very ignorance is what traffickers count on most when looking for children to target. The danger is far more imminent than most parents recognize. If we’re going to protect our children, we need to be clear on the real threats child traffickers impose. Traffickers are Smart, Motivated, and Tech-SavvyA dark and horrific market has grown up around the purchase and sale of human beings. Researchers estimated that, in 2007, Atlanta’s underground sex economy alone brought in $290 million. Even in a far less “saturated” market, sex trafficking in San Diego enables a pimp to pull in over $11,000 per week. Fast forward 10 years and there’s no reason to think that number hasn’t grown. Innocent children aren’t given a pass here. Instead, the most vulnerable among us are routinely bought and sold like property—many of them up to 15 times a day. With business booming, traffickers are working harder than ever to keep up with demand. Leaving no stone unturned, they use social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat, to research, target, and groom children for sexual exploitation. In fact, 77% of sex trafficking victims

report having been initially approached online. Just as a skilled marketer uses sophisticated keyword searches to identify his audience, traffickers monitor social media for anything at all that would suggest an easy target:Children with social media profiles open to public viewing Teenagers posting introspective status updates about feelings of insecurity Boys and girls who are venting about arguments with their parents Like a lion crouched in his thicket, a predator will scan through lines of text looking for vulnerable children to drag off into the tall grass. How many of those lines will have come from one of your children? Yes, your child can be a victim of sex traffickingThe children that traffickers rip from their happy homes aren’t pretend characters on television or disembodied faces from the evening news. They’re our kids, the ones we work hard to raise and the ones we hope to see grow up happy and healthy. They’re the kids we teach to be smart, to mind their surroundings, and never talk to strangers. And yet, we give them free reign to explore every dark corner of the internet via their cell phone. We must do betterLittle more than half of parents closely monitor their children’s online activity. So, when a stranger asks to connect on Snapchat, it’s nearly an even shot that no one will be looking over that kid’s shoulder. You can count on a child trafficker to take that bet. Do you know which platforms your children are using or who they connect with online? Do they have any secret accounts and how would you find out if they did? If someone asked to meet in person, would they do it? Can you be sure? These questions may seem intrusive and even overbearing. However, considering the reality of child trafficking in the United States, we have to ask these questions.  Every day, thousands of children disappear into slavery. We’d like to hope our kids could never be victims but the facts simply don’t allow us that option. Understanding the facts of child trafficking is the first and most important step in prevention. There is HopeGood people around the world are standing up and fighting back against this great moral evil. You don’t have to live in constant fear for your children. The story we shared at the beginning of this post doesn’t have to be your story. And with some common sense and the will to step intentionally into your kids’ digital lives, you can protect them from becoming a victim of sex trafficking. The question is: will you? At ERASE, we want to educate parents on how best to protect their children from online predators. Please take a look at our tips and best practices pages to see how you can teach your children to be safe online.Juvenile Delinquent or Victim of Human Trafficking? Blog Story of a Human Trafficking Victim It’s midnight. Officer Scott pulls his patrol car into the lot of a small, 24-hour convenience store. As he approaches, he peers through the decal-laden glass door to see a middle-aged man struggling to restrain an agitated 16-year old girl. The store owner had caught this young woman and her boyfriend stuffing items into a small handbag. Her companion—a ‘white man in his late 20’s’—had bolted out the door without so much as a backward glance. The last thing on Officer Scott’s mind was “human trafficking victim”. Scott had seen this before. Some young teenager, looking for thrills, decides to pocket a few items from the local bodega and gets grabbed by the watchful owner. As he escorts the girl to his police car, Scott’s treated to an earful. She can’t stop going on about what a jerk he is, how he had violated her rights, and how much trouble she’d be in if he didn’t let her go right away. “Just wait until I call your parents,” he thinks. 📷 The Same Routine When they arrive at the station, Scott walks this young woman to his desk. She can hear the snide remarks of a few men handcuffed to chairs nearby. As they leer conspicuously at her, she shrinks further into herself.  Scott starts in on his typical line of questioning: name,

age, address, and so on. The entire time, her phone buzzes with one text message after another. She begs Scott to let her reply, but he refuses. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk to your parents later.” “I’m not worried about them,” she snaps back. “They don’t give a crap about me, anyway. They’re too busy arguing to even notice I’m around.” Not sure what to make of that outburst, Scott begins to sort through the items she had attempted to steal: a sleeve of Hostess Cup Cakes, a Red Bull, and a box of condoms. “Must be one heck of a boyfriend to leave you there like that, huh?” “You wouldn’t understand. He loves me. He takes care of me.” Angry and frustrated by this girl’s bad attitude and ignorance about that poor excuse for a boyfriend, Officer Scott escorts her to a holding cell and prepares to process her out.Is This the End of the Story?

https://whateveryparentshouldknowaboutcps.blogspot.com/2020/08/what-every-parent-needs-to-know-about.html

[innenofutari]

On Goro Akechi’s morals and forgiveness (character analysis, but also just a very rambly post)

Akechi is… a very interesting character, I have no doubt about this. Also my favorite of course, if you hadn’t figured that out yet by this giant text you’re about to read (sorry). I have a lot I want to talk about in regards to him since he is so intriguing and we actually don’t have that much info about how his thought process works so it leaves a lot of room for speculation.

In any case, in this meta in specific I’m going to be talking about Akechi’s...morality(?), forgiveness and his relationship with regret. I’m not sure if that’s the best word to define this but I’ll roll with it for now. I’ll try to be fair and talk about things as I personally see them, it’s totally fine if you don’t share my views! Now, onto the actual meta.

Starting off, as people are obviously aware, Akechi is a morally gray character, a darker shade of, but he’s a sympathetic and tragic character nonetheless. That much is undeniable, he was written to be sympathetic, even if I’d argue Atlus did a pretty poor job of it in Vanilla (he was still my favorite ever since then though lol) but he’s reached his true potential in Royal, which makes me immensely happy to see. I get so unbelievably happy whenever I see people saying Royal changed their perception of him and started to like him more! But even then, there are a lot of people who just can’t forgive him for what he did, and that’s only natural. I personally think that, if you don’t try to sympathize with Akechi and truly, truly try to understand his mind and history, you’re doing him a huge disservice. But, forgiveness is something that everyone is free to think and decide if he deserves it or not. In Akechi’s case, I feel like forgiveness is something much more personal to the player, and this shows between the Phantom Thieves too.

There is a visual novel I hold very close to my heart called Umineko no Naku Koro Ni (which I’ll be quoting relentlessly throughout this entire post) that illustrates what I think better than I could put into words, so I’ll be quoting that scene with a few tweaks for better context:

“You said you understood the culprit’s motive.”

“...Yes.”

“Is that motive… a satisfying explanation for why they’d [commit murder]?!”

“Who knows. That’s for you to decide. Even if I say it’s satisfying, that doesn’t mean it will satisfy you. …You have to decide that for yourself.”

I really like this. It reminds me a lot of Akechi’s situation. I firmly believe that this has no “objective”, “most correct” answer to, just your personal feelings, which are the most important. I, as a player, do forgive Akechi, I want him to have a happy ending, another chance at life, manage to live happily with Akira and have some fun for once. That’s what “forgiveness” means to me in this situation, but while some people may empathize with Akechi, they still can’t forgive him. They think he should stay forever in jail or die since he cannot be redeemed in any way in their eyes. Where do I wanna go with this endless blabbering you ask, and I respond, I just want to try and see Akechi’s actions through two different lenses.

Well, I personally don’t like downplaying the crimes he committed and dumbing it down to “he was being manipulated” because, even if this is not false, it is not entirely correct either. Akechi is so fun to speculate about because he’s a character who is always clashing against himself in various ways as if he was in a constant state of internal turmoil, and this is not very different.

Akechi himself made the choice to go to Shido. It is extremely unlikely that he didn’t know he was going to be using his new powers for murder. He may have been very young, but despite the fact that he was a child forced to mature prematurely, he knew exactly which type of person Shido was. When he walked into that deal he was aware of the consequences and had fully made peace with the fact that he’d be taking another person’s life. Now, I’m not saying that Shido never manipulated him because he did, but not with that particular choice. 

This alone tells plenty about Akechi’s morals. I believe that Akechi indeed has some level of empathy for other people, but I sincerely doubt he feels especially bad about the Okumura-like people he had to kill. He might feel bad for the family of the victims or just feel nauseated with himself, however, he doesn’t regret a thing. As if he had grown numb to it. ...Until a certain point, that is, but I’ll talk about that later.

I would also like to elaborate further on Akechi’s continuous conflict with himself, and this particular piece of Maruki’s confidant immediately reminded me of this:

He’s talking about Akira here, but isn’t it interesting to note that Akechi’s internalized and externalized realities are, in contrast to Akira’s, the farthest they could possibly be from each other? His sense of justice, childlike desire to be loved and seen as a hero, in contrast to the cold-blooded murderer he had become? It’s like there are two people fighting it out inside of Akechi’s brain (lol) which must cause him a lot of distress. I don’t believe that Robin Hood is a ruse or that his Detective Prince façade is entirely fake. The way I see it, they are his ideal, which he strayed so far away from he lost grasp of who he himself is.

In my opinion, Akechi has never cared about fame the slightest bit, he used all of that as an opportunity to act out the person he wished he was, just and virtuous, while still being the feral murderer and bloodstained person he is today. These are two integral parts of him that he has never known how to reconcile. It’s interesting to note that in the third semester he was the one who since the beginning advocated firmly to return to the harsh reality but he had spent the entire game living in the comforting “detective prince” dream he made for himself until the engine room scene happened. 

With the third semester context, the engine room becomes so interesting because that scene is akin to Sumire finding out she’s not Kasumi. It’s a cold bucket of water thrown straight to Akechi’s face and telling him to wake up from this lie he made to comfort himself and face reality: he is no hero. Despite the fact that he is, too, a victim, he is simultaneously a murderer who perpetuated with the cycle of his father’s aggressions and he cannot escape that fact. Worse, he was being manipulated all along and his revenge plan and arguably his only reason to live AND justification for his actions was completely crushed.

Once again, this Umineko scene illustrates what I think Akechi’s situation up until that point was like:

Akechi rationalized every awful, inexcusable thing he did as, “It’s for my revenge’s sake” and ran with it. He was incredibly blinded by his hate and ignored the weight of the consequences of his actions up until that point where everything came crashing down right in front of his eyes. There is no excuse and no justification for that.

However, Akechi was also abused himself. There is no excuse for what he did, but is getting back at the person who took everything from him so reprehensible a thought? Is wanting justice against someone who essentially ruined your life not understandable? Many people like to say “cool motive still murder” or things of the like, but I’m asking you again to put yourself in his shoes.

Yet AGAIN with a Umineko screencap:

I played this the other day and one of the first things I thought of was Akechi. A lot of people draw parallels between Akechi and Adachi, but that’s just so damn wrong and make me lose my hair so much and become completely bald because that couldn’t be farther from the truth and I’m gently asking you to reconsider. In the pic above, Adachi would fit the “homicidal maniac” mentioned to a T, and while Akechi is by absolutely no means free of guilt and much less a stellar person, his crimes were moved completely by his heart. 

For the people who use his choice to become Shido’s hitman to say Akechi does not deserve any kind of forgiveness and that he’s a murderous maniac, I ask you to at least think of what state of mind he was at that moment. Think very hard about it, imagine how completely bleak life must have looked like then, to the point that he risked everything on murder.

This is nothing more than my speculation, but I believe Akechi’s thought process at that moment was something along the lines of, “I have nothing to lose since my (current) life is completely meaningless". It was as if he had reached such a numb state he chose to forgo all his morals and humanity in pursuit of at least one thing that would give his life meaning, that being his hate for Shido, which I also think was the only emotion he ever truly understood well ever since his mom passed.

Since Akechi is all about conflicting emotions though, I would also like to remind you how vulnerable Akechi really is to any kind of affection. His “childlikeness” that Robin Hood represents was, by all accounts, still there. Akechi has a desperate need to be loved while simultaneously putting up walls and wearing masks, making it extremely difficult to have any kind of meaningful relationship. This is something that Shido thoroughly takes advantage of, too.

That’s also why one of his lines to Akira hit so much harder for me, following this reasoning. “If only we had met a few years earlier,” expresses many emotions at once. If Akechi had known something other than misery and hatred during that period of his life he would not have latched so thoroughly to that revenge plan. Akechi simply had nothing to lose, since he had nothing at all.

I mentioned earlier that Akechi doesn’t regret a thing, which I still think it’s true. Before he had met Akira, he truly did not regret a thing, but meeting Akira caused him a lot of strife because not only Akira is a person whose whole existence flaunts everything Akechi could have had if he hadn’t fallen into fate’s trap, but Akechi also experiences happiness through his connection with Akira. Hanging out and talking to him truly makes him happy, and it’s something more genuine than he’s ever known. Yet, it’s too late, because his choices were already set in stone and he had already pulled the trigger with no way to take any of the bullets back.

That’s why Akechi is so confusing, so controversial and sometimes uncomfortable to think about. There is no clear line between good or bad, he just is something in the middle. Akechi is both a person who ruined a lot of people’s lives with no regard whatsoever to the consequences but also a victim rebelling and retaliating against the person who took everything from him and made his life a living hell. That’s why it’s so hard for not only some players to form opinions about him but also downright uncomfortable for the Phantom Thieves to think about. There is no objectively best answer for what he deserves. It just doesn’t exist. Should he spend the rest of his life in jail, or dead, because his crimes were inexcusable? Or should he be given another chance at life to learn to be happy? It’s entirely subjective, and that’s why he’s so great to think or discuss about. 

Aaand that’s it, I’m grateful you read so far, hope I didn’t piss anyone off, also not gonna pretend this wasn’t very self indulgent because of the amount of times I quoted Umineko in it. Anyways, thank you!

SIDE NOTE: I didn’t write this recently, it had been sitting on my drafts for some months now and I found it again today and decided to just release it into the wild because why not? I think this was meant to be much longer than it is and to elaborate more eloquently on a lot of points I brought up (like the PT with Akechi) but alas, I lost the train of thought and so it Perished.

[bittysvalentines]

5 times Jack failed at flirting

From: @leahlisabeth

To: @b1ttle

Summary: Jack is new to Providence which wouldn't be so bad if he didn't put his foot in his mouth/run away every time he runs into the Falconer's gorgeous, blond, PR person.  

Rating: none

Tags: Bitty does PR for the Falconers, Bad Flirting, Awkward Situations

Content warnings: Very brief mention of intended non-con

Message: Thank you so much for your prompts! I had a lot of fun writing this fic and I really hope you like it.

1.

Providence is a nice place.  It’s a decent sized city; it would have to be to have their own NHL team, but it has a small town feel.  He can go jogging around his neighbourhood instead of in a cold, sterile gym or even worse, on a treadmill going nowhere.  But it’s not so small that he’s going to stand out and he’s going to get mobbed wherever he goes. Jack thinks he likes it.

He hasn’t really had too many chances to explore, even though he’s marked a few places on the map that he’d like to check out. He’s always been the kind of guy to be a regular, to show up at the same time and get the same thing, predictable and reliable.  It’s already past time for him to establish his Providence routine.

He passes by a sweet little coffee shop as he’s jogging.  It’s getting close to the end of his five- mile run and it is in the perfect location for a post-run snack.  Making a split-second decision, he diverts his path and heads inside.

He isn’t paying attention, already looking to see what’s on their menu, when he feels scalding hot liquid soak his running shirt.

“Oh my lord, I’m so sorry.” A much shorter man is standing in front of him and waving a handful of napkins in his face.  On reflex, Jack grabs for them, stilling both the waving napkins and the hands of the man standing red-faced in front of him.  “I hope I didn’t burn ya.”

“Euh, just a little steamed,” Jack says, finally succeeding in liberating one of the napkins from the man’s grasp and soaking up some of the rapidly cooling liquid on his chest. The man stops waving his arms and tries to help with the napkin he’s still holding.

With that handled, he takes a closer look at the person in front of him and he nearly swallows his tongue.  The guy is gorgeous, with blond hair and brown eyes so large they wouldn’t look out of place on a cartoon.  He’s small but holds himself like someone who is used to complete physical control over his limbs.  His chest is also splashed with coffee even though Jack had taken the brunt of it.  

“At least coffee is your colour,” Jack says.

The man stops mopping at Jack’s chest and looks up at him with a quizzical expression and Jack suddenly has the urge to run.  “Uh, goodbye?” he says before turning around and practically sprinting from the coffee shop.  Guess he can’t ever come back here again.

2. 

Jack’s been busy since moving to Providence.  He’s had near-constant practices and other team meetings as he’s getting to know his new teammates and they’re getting ready to start their season.  He’s heading out early in the morning and coming home late at night with barely a chance to inhabit his new home beyond the bedroom and the bathroom.

Finally, he gets a day off.   He starts it off the same way he has been so far, going for a run and only stopping in to buy coffee once he’s sure he’s not going to run into that blond man again.  

But once he gets home, he’s at a loss.  He bought a couch for the living room but he doesn’t have a TV and his books are all in storage until he has the time to go get them and unpack them.  It’s a little depressing.

Another hiccup occurs at lunchtime.  He decides to splurge and make his favourite chicken tenders. But since he’s mostly been eating out since he moved, he doesn’t even have a baking sheet.

He decides to go and buy at least a few things: a TV, a bookshelf that he can start filling, and the bare minimum for the kitchen.

He’s wandering a department store in the area and comparing two baking sheets, trying to decide if it matters that it’s nonstick, when he hears a familiar voice.

“I wondered if I might run into you again.”

Jack turns and sees the small blond who’s coffee he had spilled. He’s just as cute now and Jack isn’t finding it any easier to look him in the eye. “I was hoping I wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” the blond says, a strangely disappointed look on his face.  “Sorry, I’ll leave you to your shopping.”

“No...that isn’t…” Jack protests but he’s not entirely certain what to say and he can feel the red rising in his cheeks.

“I’d recommend the stainless steel pan.  It’s higher quality and I know they say that nonstick is safe but I’ve also read it leaves bits of Teflon in your food.  If you really want easy cleanup, just use parchment paper or a silicone baking mat,” the blond says, pointing to one of the baking sheets that Jack is still holding.

“Euh, thank you?” Jack says, but the blond man is already gone.

3. 

“Jack, can I meet with you for a moment in my office?” Georgia asks him after practice.  “It’s nothing bad,” she reassures him when she sees the look of apprehension on his face.

“Sure,” Jack says.  “Should I shower first or do you want me right away?”

“By all means, shower first,” Georgia smiles at him and leaves him there.  Even with her reassurance, Jack feels a pit open up in his stomach, just like the one he’d had every time in childhood when he had to talk to any sort of authority figure.  He knows they’re not going to fire him.  They have a contract.  But he’s a little afraid anyway.

A familiar blond man turns to face him when Jack enters the room.

“Jack, I want you to meet Eric Bittle,” Georgia says.  “He’s in charge of PR for the Falconers.  He’s here to talk about your Twitter account.”

Jack frowns.  “I need a Twitter account?”

Bittle turns and smiles at him.  It looks a little forced and Jack really wants to run away from the conversation he knows he needs to have.

“Eric will explain all about it.  You have a choice how involved you want to be but you will have to have at least one public social media account,” Georgia says.

“Oh,” Jack says.  “Um…”

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Bittle says.  “We don’t need to do it right now but we should set up a meeting.”

“Coffee,” Jack blurts out.

Bittle turns red.  “Do you think that’s safe?” he asks.

“No,” Jack says.  “I know it’s not.”

Georgia looks between them, a slight puzzled look on her face.  “Are you going to need my office or are you going to meet elsewhere?”

Bittle takes a card out of his wallet and hands it to Jack.  “Here, you think about it and when you’re ready, you can send me an email and we’ll set a time to meet.”

Jack nods.  Georgia and Eric are both staring at him.  He doesn’t know what they expect from him so he awkwardly turns and leaves.

4.

Jack hasn’t emailed Bittle yet.  He feels bad because he knows he is making Bittle’s job harder but every time he picks up his phone or his laptop, a cold sweat covers his body and he has to get out.  He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been so out of sorts in someone’s presence.  He thinks maybe it’s because Bittle is so completely his type and he hasn’t even entertained the thought of dating another man since Kent.  It shouldn’t be a big deal but it is.

It’s getting late and his stomach is growling. He hadn’t eaten anything after practice and he is paying for it now. He doesn’t feel like cooking or ordering takeout.  Maybe it’s a little weird, going out to eat alone, but the alternative would be to ask one of his new teammates and the anxiety at the thought of reaching out makes him more than a little nauseated.  Eating alone, it is.

He sits down and looks through the menu.  There are a lot of choices and most of them sound awful.  He regrets choosing this restaurant and he’s thinking about walking out.  He’s only ordered a water so far.

He can hear someone talking loudly from the next booth over.  “Oh yeah, sounds totally like a serious job and not an excuse to ogle hockey players in the buff.  I know your type.”

“Excuse me?” Jack recognizes Bittle’s Southern accent and suddenly, he is hyper-focused on the conversation happening behind him.

“Seriously, whoever hooked you up for that sweet gig, tell him I want to run PR for some of the local figure skaters.  That’s what gets my motor running.” The guy’s voice is loud and slurring and Jack can see looks of disgust from the other tables in the restaurant.

Bittle’s voice is frosty and nearly unrecognizable.  “I don’t think I like what you’re insinuatin’.”

“Aw, come on, it’s a compliment.  I way prefer that tight ass to some big muscle-bound goon,” the man laughs loudly.  Jack’s fist clenches.

“I think this date is over,” Bittle says.

“Don’t be like that.  Let’s cut the bullshit.  I know you’re gagging to go back to my place so I can pound that tight ass.”  

Jack can see Bittle standing to leave and he is about to relax when the man grabs Bittle’s wrist and pulls him in close to his side.  Jack hardly knows he is moving before he is looming over the man and prying his hand off Bittle’s wrist.

“Who the fuck are you?” The man blinks up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“Hi, I’m a big muscle-bound goon.  I think your date said no,” Jack growls.

“This is none of your fucking business.  Leave us alone,” the man slurs.  He tries to stand up but thinks twice about it when Jack stares him down.

“Excuse me, can I get this man’s check?” Jack hails the nearest waitress.  She scurries away to get it.

The man tosses down some cash to cover the check.

“Tip too,” Jack says, counting the bills at a glance.  The man curses but throws down another $20.

“Did he drive?” Jack asks Bittle.

Bittle nods.  “He’s my ride.” He winces.

Jack holds out his hand.  “Keys.”

The man’s face grows apoplectic with rage.  He staggers out of the chair and tries to take a swing at Jack.  Jack easily dodges it and dumps him back in his chair. This time the man meekly holds out his car keys.

Jack hands them to the waitress.  “Call a cab for this man.  I’ll cover it.  He can pick his keys up here tomorrow when he’s sobered up.”

The waitress nods and stuffs the man’s keys into the pocket of her apron.

Jack drops another couple of bills on his table and guides a now trembling Bittle out of the restaurant.

“Lord, that was dramatic,” Bittle says.  

Now that the adrenaline has faded, Jack is suddenly tongue-tied again.  “Euh, Bittle...Do you like food?” he asks.

“Um...yes?” Bittle says, looking up at him in confusion.

“I mean I can just drop you at home if you want to go but I didn’t get a chance to eat and I noticed you hardly touched your dinner and then I don’t have to eat alone and the evening isn’t wasted,” Jack says in a rush.

Bittle’s face goes from confusion to a sunny smile.  “Jack, honey, that sounds absolutely perfect.  But if we’re gonna be friends now, you’re gonna have to start calling me Bitty.”

5.

Things are easier now.  He and Bitty meet up once or twice a week, sometimes to discuss new posts for his rapidly growing Instagram account, but mostly just to have coffee or dinner.  Jack’s never been much of a texter, but now, his phone is blowing up all day, every day.  He can’t help smiling every time he sees Bitty’s name pop up in his notifications.

Something is happening to him.  He thinks he’s been in love before.  Kent was all fire and passion and danger.  Camilla was all safety and comfort and security and routine and, if he’s honest, a tiny bit of boredom.  

But this is something else.  

There is passion, but he doesn’t want the side of secrecy that comes along with it.  He feels like he and Bitty have known each other all their lives, but he can’t think of anything he wants more than a lifetime to discover more about him.

The team teases him mercilessly.  Jack denies it but a little pit of sadness grows inside him as he tells them that he’s texting Bitty and of course he’s just a friend.

They go out for dinner and something feels different.  Bitty smiles up at him.  He touches his arm when no one is looking.  He touches his foot to Jack’s under the table and Jack lets him, maybe even presses right back.

Bitty blushes and Jack asks the waiter for a glass of wed rine.  Bitty laughs and Jack wants to make him laugh forever.

“Do you want to come up?” Bitty asks when Jack drops him off.

Jack nods.  Bitty’s apartment is as warm and cheery as the man himself.  Jack likes it.  He immediately feels more at home here than he has almost anywhere since he first moved to Providence, excluding only the feeling he gets in full gear at centre ice.

Bitty brings him a cup of tea and a slice of pie, maple apple and the best thing Jack has ever had in his mouth.

Bitty sits next to him on the couch and for once he’s quiet, content to sit next to Jack and enjoy his company.  

“Bits,” Jack says.  “I…”

Bitty leans in a little closer and Jack wants; it’s terrifying just how much he wants. 

“I…have to go,” Jack says.  “Thanks for the pie. It was delicious.”

He’s outside the door by the time logic kicks back in and it’s too late to go back inside.

+1

Bitty looks sad.  For the first time in several weeks, Bitty wasn’t the one to text first.  Jack knows he did something wrong and he wants to fix it.  But a small part of him also wonders if maybe this isn’t for the best.  Bitty makes things complicated.  He can’t come out anytime soon and Bitty deserves better than that.  Plus, there is the whole ethical dilemma of him dating a member of the team.  What if Georgia fired Bitty for this?  He couldn’t have that on his conscience.

It might be too late anyway.  Bitty doesn’t look at him when he enters the locker room.  He’s there talking to Tater and he keeps his focus steadily on the big Russian’s face.  He leaves without a look at Jack.

“Your boy mad at you?” Tater asks.

Jack’s heart skips a beat.  “What are you talking about?”

“Little B.  He not flirt with you or make googly eyes.  No maple apple pie in nook this week,” Tater says, clapping Jack’s shoulder with one big hand.  “Is lover’s quarrel, right? You say sorry.  We get pie.”

“You think Bittle and I are…” Jack’s voice trails off.

“Boyfriends, right?” Tater asked.

Jack is practically ready to pass out.  Tater talks so loudly and surely the rest of the team can hear this.  He looks around but no one seems to care.

“I thought we weren’t getting involved,” Marty said with a raised eyebrow.

“That was when they happy and flirting.  Not when Little B look like he might cry,” Tater says.

“Jack, we haven’t said anything because it’s not our business.  But we’re glad you and Bitty found each other,” Marty says.  “If you need to straighten something out, better to do it now than to take it on the ice.”

Jack nods and runs out of the locker room to find Bitty.  He catches Bitty in the entrance way, heading to his car in the parking lot.  He’s breathing hard and he realizes, staring at Bitty, that he has no idea what to say.

“Jack, are you alright?  Did you need something?” Bitty asks, holding his clipboard like a shield in front of him.

“My team just informed me we’ve been dating for weeks?” It comes out like a question and a shutter falls over Bitty’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.  It’s my fault.  You were so nice and we spent so much time together.  I really thought...but it’s okay.  Message received, loud and clear.  I won’t get you in trouble with your team.  I should have known better than to fall in love with a straight boy,” Bitty says, misery on his face and in his voice.

“I’m not,” Jack says.

“Not what?” Bitty asks.

“I’m not straight.  And I’m not in trouble.  And I really wasn’t sending you a message, at least not that message,” Jack says.  He takes a step closer to Bitty and Bitty drops his arms.

“What message were you sending?” Bitty whispers as Jack takes another step.

“I…” Jack still can’t get the words out.  Bitty is waiting, hope in his eyes, but that hope is fading with every second that Jack can’t find the words.  He forgets about words entirely, leans down and kisses Bitty.

When he pulls back, there are tears standing in Bitty’s eyes.  “Oh,” he says.  “Good.”

Jack just has to kiss him again.

[eleven-times-lively]

I Thought You Hated Me - Part 3

Part 3/3 And shes like "Look, i get that youre heartbroken and im sorry that i cant love you back but no matter how much pain you're going through, I have it worse because you basically outed me and then ignored me and so did the others. And you dont know how much it hurts to know that because I thought you guys hated me for being gay, I thought that you guys thought I was a freak. I was always scared to come out and the moment I did, you left me when I needed you" 

Summary: Remus Lupin is in love with you, but learns that you like girls. What follows is an emotional rollercoaster for you and him. Word Count: 1064 Note: This is the final part!! I love this fic and I really enjoyed writing it! I hope you enjoy reading it!!!💕

“You are unbelievable, Remus Lupin.” Your tone of voice could kill as you looked at him, brows knitted together and lips pressed into a thin line. His innocent visage of pure concern quickly turned into one of defense and confusion. Somehow something deep inside him told him to just stay quiet. “Absolutely, astonishingly un-be-liev-able!” Your volume picked up as you went. You pushed his hand off of you and turned to fully face him on the couch, tears once again falling gently when you saw him. “Remus, I’m sure you’re utterly gutted right now, heartbroken in fact, but that doesn’t give you the excuse to act like an absolute prat all of a sudden! I mean ignoring me, for Merlin’s sake! That’s not who you are!” “Y/n it was James’ idea.” “I don’t bloody fucking care Remus! You have your own wits about ya and should’ve said something! But instead you went along with it like a lonely puppy, just like you always do.” You recoiled slightly at that, perhaps it was a bit harsh. “I am sorry that I can’t love you back, and I never will in that way. It’s not a choice, Remus, so holding it against me is like… well… holding being a werewolf against you. I don’t know what you’re thinking, or what you’ve gone through this past month, you know on account of you not talking to me, but you need to understand that I have it much, much worse.” Your tone softened as you saw him begin to cry, realising the truth in your words. “Y/n, I am so, so sorry and I have no idea how to show-” “I am not done, Remus Lupin. Cutting me off didn’t work out for you last time so I suggest you don’t do it again.” “Verywell, proceed.” “Yeah… I was going to. Anyway, you basically forced me to come out to our best friend when I wasn’t ready! And knowing Sirius’ and James’ loud mouths, half the school probably knows to! That was supposed to be the one special and important moment that I was supposed to be in control of NOT YOU. Oh! And to make things worse, you all bloody ignored me! You have no idea how much pain I was in, Remus. Thinking that my best friends hated me for being gay. I felt like some kind of freak! I mean, if Sirius ‘messed up childhood’ Black thinks I’m a freak, then it surely is true!” “Y/n, we didn’t mean-” “Yeah of course you didn’t! How dare I think that your collective one brain cell is able to form a plot that coherent! It was just the three of you being absolute wankers and ignoring me for-... wait why were you ignoring me?” He hesitated a moment before speaking, wondering if that was a question meant to be answered. “James…” “I don’t care about James, I want to know why you did it.” “We thought that since you had just stormed off and wouldn’t let me talk, we shouldn’t pay attention and let you talk either. I just went along with it. I mean… what was I meant to do, y/n!?” Now he was yelling, “I was upset and vulnerable, one of my best friends had just stormed off and wouldn’t give me the time of day, so of course I was going to listen to the other two!” “Do you know how much that hurt!? No one came after me! I ran off and not one of you made the effort to try and find me, ask what went wrong, ask if I was okay!” “Sirius did!” “What! By grabbing my sweater and letting me pull away! Some effort! Remus I was bloody terrified to come out, I mean clearly if I haven’t in six years! I was scared and alone, and the moment I did come out, and not even on my own volition, you and everyone else ditched me! Just left me in the dust wondering what I did wrong. Do you have any idea how that feels!? No! You don’t!” Your words were coming out more strained and exasperated than angry any more, “You had nothing but constant and ample support when we found out you were a werewolf! We risked our lives learning how to turn into bloody animals for you! And this is how I’m repaid?” “Y/n, please, I-” “No, Remus, just don’t,” you began to get up from the couch, but he also stood up and blocked your path to the stairs. “No. You walked away last time and didn’t let me finish. No way in hell I’m letting that happen again.” He slowly, cautiously took your hands in his, looking you dead in the eye. “I love you, y/n. As a best friend, and more, but I need to respect that that will never be reciprocated. I feel bloody horrible. What kind of an arse leaves their best friend when they go through a major milestone like that?” His voice was wavering, about to break. “None of us were thinking, cause trust me, Sirius and James feel just as sorry as I do. It was a bloody awful thing to do, but all they saw of it was that you had stormed off and wouldn’t listen. And, before you even say it, it was horrible of me to not tell them otherwise. I-... no, we have all been absolute idiots this past month. And I know that it will take more than an apology to fix this, but I hope we can start here. I promise you, we will talk to Sirius and James later, together, and you’ll get the apology you deserve from them. You’re my best friend, y/n, and I never want that to change. I’m sorry we made you feel the way we did, but I hope you can take us back. Cause to be bloody honest, we all really miss you.” You didn’t say anything, lest you start crying again, but a smile slowly crept onto your face. You just leaned forward and wrapped Remus in the tightest hug you ever had. The two of you must’ve stayed like that for a while, cause by the time you separated the common room was full again. “I love you, Remus,” was all you said as you pulled away.

[hes-writer]

Just A Little Bit of Your Heart

Summary: Harry and Y/N are in an open relationship

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 1895 words

Harry and Y/N were in an open relationship, that is, they were together for the public but behind closed doors (and non-disclosure agreements) they were far from being the ‘perfect couple’. On the outside, they were completely and utterly enamored with each other.

The press always managed to snag a picture of Harry’s face, melting in adoration every time he looked at Y/N and he definitely used that to his advantage. He managed to create an image of himself; a kind, humble, affectionate gentleman that would do anything for his lady, Y/N. Don’t get this wrong, Harry was the epitome of God in human form. He was everything described, except his affection weren’t only for Y/N.

There were a couple of women—a lot of them, actually—who surrounded Harry whenever they went out to dinner parties together. Like a predator to prey, to which Harry was, and he let them have their way at him. Of course, he always made sure that Y/N was driven home safely before he hitched a ride with his flavor of the night.

Like a few days ago, they were out on a movie premiere on a new Nolan movie. Out of respect and an invitation, Harry had spent days planning his statement outfit. He also set out choices for Y/N to pick from as she would be the final touch of his look that night. While he wore a black blazer with gold embellishments, Y/N dressed in a fitting black dress with dandelion lace and gold beads to match his suit.

The day after the event was met with significant mentions and tags from fans on both their social media accounts. Tabloids and headline articles also stacked on the Google page. “Harry and Y/N: the Golden couple” and various other play on words praised their choice of clothing for the night. It then went on how Harry had placed his hand gently on her mid-waist, pulling Y/N closer to him when a slight mob gathered around them on the red carpet. An action that could only be described as ‘sweet’ and ‘caring’, ‘protective’ even made the list.

The authors went on to flatter both their egos; how perfectly they complemented each other, and not just with the gold and black—but as well as their personalities. Harry and Y/N were public figures, him with singing and her with acting, meaning that everything was out in the open. Criticisms and comments weren’t always the best and the pair had learned to handle the rude fans in the best ways. Treat people with kindness, Harry said. And that they did.

When she was blazed with anger and frustration when a fan harassed her brother through Twitter, Harry was there to steady her by her shoulders and told her to breathe. Somehow, a video of that went viral and indirectly suggested that they were perfect for each other because they knew one another so well.

After the first screening of the movie, all the invited guests were ushered in the dining hall. Round tables filled with celebrities and notable people mingled with each other for business, or for just an awkward couple of hours. Y/N and Harry were lucky that Liam was in the same table as them, as well as Shawn, and a woman who had been moved to their table by accident.

It was lucky—indeed—because Y/N didn’t have to pretend to be okay in front of her good friends as much as she would with strangers. Sitting beside Harry was one thing; his hand lazily lying on her exposed thigh was another. Yet, it all meant that both of them were together. Y/N was happy that he was showing affection, albeit for a show, but it’s been days since he’d even come close to her.

They lived in the same house, it made headlines, of course. It was nothing special, really. If anything, it was only a place for them to rest a night. None of them really hung around that much individually due to their schedules.  It was a surprise, however, when Harry started coming home extremely late and he sometimes didn’t even step foot for the night at all. It was the moment when things changed significantly for both of them.

So when Y/N’s attention shifted from the special thanks speech that the director was giving to the cold breeze caressing the skin where Harry’s palm no longer strayed—she wished that he never even gave her a taste of affection in the first place. Because now, she craved for it more than ever and he single-handedly plucked it out from her reach. Her eyes traced the white of his dress shirt—having taken off his suit jacket—only to find it bent in a sneaky wave to a person a few tables away. And god, she wished that she could go back in time and made up an excuse about not attending the event because then the heartbreak she was feeling right now would be nonexistent.

It was as if a hammer smashed her heart to pieces, beating down the already cracked organ and dwindling to crumbs with no way to save it. A dull throb pounded within her and she squirmed in her seat when her stomach grumbled in the discomfort of the sight. The sound of people clapping threw her off her destructive thoughts and she mindlessly applauded along with them. And with that, people stood up to go on the dance floor, doubling as a bar. She shook her head in rejection when Liam and Shawn asked her if she wanted to join the lot of them. She would rather stay here with her love.

Sadly, the feeling wasn’t mutual. As soon as people dispersed and gradually loosened up with drinks in hand, Harry was quick to lean over and whisper to Y/N. She had been sitting there, motionlessly, hoping that maybe her boyfriend would ask her to dance with him. Or just do anything with him; she would gladly do it.

“Y/N, think ‘m gonna head off tonight,” His breath hit her neck in warm gusts but the chill the ran through her spine was nothing but.

Though she was expecting such an action sooner or later throughout the night, a part of her really believed that they would be heading home together hand-in-hand with smiles on their faces from an enjoyable night. Maybe they’d even reconciled with the act of making love—she wore her black lingerie that made Harry not want to keep his hands to himself. That wasn’t the case because as Y/N moved her head to face him directly, his eyes never watched her hurt expression and instead, focused on the woman in the red dress.

She was beautiful. Her dress made her stand out from the crowd of dark colors and Y/N mentally shamed herself for not wearing something else. The design on her chest made ample of cleavage be visible to the eye and Y/N wondered if that was what caught Harry’s attention. It seemed that both of them were itching to leave the place and do God knows what because the woman barely glanced at Y/N even if she was sitting right beside Harry.

“Where are you going?” Y/N questioned, fully knowing the answer to that. He had done it plenty of times before and there was no use in pretending anymore.

He finally looked down at her, his eyes darkened in lust and dilated in want—not mentioning the hand that was slowly adjusting the bump in his pants. It wasn’t Y/N, however. “Just some hotel,”

“Will you be coming home tonight?”

“‘M not sure, love,” He answered, twisting his body to grab the jacket that hung on the chair. “I’ll text you to let you know, though.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek, his soft lips being the last touch she’d receive from him for the night. “Love you,”

Harry didn’t wait for her to respond. Quickly standing on his feet, he walked briskly away from Y/N and towards the exit where the woman had been standing for a bit of time while Harry bid his goodbyes. She greeted him with a nod and kept her distance, knowing full well that they couldn’t be risked being seen touching each other.

She watched as the pair disappeared through the spinning glass doors, his hand hovering over her mid waist like he did with her. Y/N stayed immobilized in her chair, unable to move anything–not even her eyes. Like she said, Harry had done this so many times before that every move he made was predictable, but somehow it still took her by surprise by how easily he moved to leave her behind for another that gave him something she couldn’t–apparently–satisfy.

Every time he left was like a pull to her heart and it was getting repetitive to the point that there was nothing to pull and she was just in a constant state of pain that seemed to have no end. There were nights where she stayed up late waiting for him to enter through the front doors, and when he didn’t, the worry ceased to disappear and she had to cry herself to sleep at night to let her eyes go sore enough that she couldn’t keep them open. Right now was no different, except she wished that she was in the comfort of their shared home and shielded from the prying cameras that documented every bit of her life.

Once she felt the wet drops lingering on her waterline, Y/N knew she had to get out of the venue as soon as possible.

“Y/N! Are you leaving?” Shawn yelled out, calling after her breathlessly.

She wiped the tears carefully–not wanting to smudge her makeup and look even more distraught–to her temples and hairline. “Yeah, I uh have an early morning tomorrow,”

He nodded understandingly, walking to his seat to grab his suit jacket as well. “Where’s Harry? Did he leave?” He looked at her with an intense gaze.

Shawn was one of the few people who knew about their open relationship, aside from the crew that worked with both of them daily. He didn’t approve of it since he didn’t want to see it ‘blow up in her face’ in the end.

“Yeah, she left with that lady in the red dress,” She pointed at the table, and then laid her chin on her forearms.

“Tanya?”

“Is that her name? Actually, whatever don’t make her a real person to me,” Y/N interrupted. “Makes me feel less hurt somehow if I, you know, pretend.”

Shawn bobbed his head, slipping his arms in the holes of the silk fabric. “Let me take you home,”

Defeated and worn out, Y/N agreed–no way was she in a state to travel alone right now. Shawn and Y/N left the building together, and just like Harry, Shawn’s palm grazed the fabric of her lower back carefully to steady her.

Y/N was so done with today that she didn’t pay mind to the man and the blinding flash that captured a ‘provocative’ picture of the both of them. She shrugged it off, knowing that the press will twist the pictures to match their words.

----

new series! let me know what you thought :D

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[miazeklos]

I can’t believe that over two months down the line this is still a conversation being had, but jfc, no, the Jon/Dany murder scene was not a revamped Cersei/Jaime scene, it was specifically meant for them, the show was never going to do the same thing with Jaime and Cersei and I’m so dаmn tired of seeing the exact same bitter post three times a day in tags where it doesn’t belong. I love Dany and I get the frustration but it just makes absolutely no sense at all and even if it’s hard to give it a single logical thought, just... give it at a try.

This rant is also the perfect excuse to write a post I’ve wanted to write for ages, namely, the way Daenerys and Cersei are presented as acting Queens, so this is what I’ll proceed to do. Warning: it’s long. Please bear with me.

Cersei and Dany being portrayed the way they were towards the end was set up since the beginning of s7 at least. In a lot of instances, it’s really blatant. 

Tyrion saying that Cersei would cling to Casterly Rock for the sake of it and that Dany’s armies would prevail because they fight for a cause and that being the voiceover to their victory, only for it to turn out that the vast majority of Cersei’s army isn’t even there (this whole sequence was directed in a way that almost felt like mockery, to be honest). Conversations about what a tyrant she is followed by scenes of the people cheering as her enemies are dragged in chains through the city. Cersei asking for the North’s neutrality while Dany insisted on them bending the knee. The fact that the most powerful of Dany’s Westerosi allies (Dorne and the Reach) had joined her mainly on a ‘fuсk the Lannisters and Cersei specifically’ basis. Cersei sparing Tyrion’s life twice when you take into account that D&D take Daenerys’s reaction to her brother’s death as the earliest sign of something being wrong (which is a whole other can of meta, to be opened in a later post). When Dany speaks about returning things to dust, that’s what she does; when Cersei speaks about burning cities to the ground, she still only punishes the two specific people responsible for her daughter’s death.

Неll, there’s even Tyrion admitting that the only difference between them is that Dany has people to rein in her worst impulses, which is why she won’t burn King’s Landing. This is what Dany is being talked out of - killing large masses of people - while Jaime mainly talks Cersei out of choices that would end up killing her (like attacking the North in Winter and ignoring the AOTD). The unspoken implication here is that the former isn’t an impulse that Cersei needs to be held back from... because she doesn’t have it.

Cersei wouldn’t have ever burned the city because her politics were far more focused on ‘if the people leave me alone and don’t hurt me or my family in any way, I’ll also leave them alone’ than ‘they’ll have died for a good reason if it comes to that’, because in her eyes, the biggest upside to her position of power is everyone letting her live and that’s it. She did her duties after being crowned and, even if she was doing it for personal gain, let her people into the safest place in the city during the invasion. No one who actually lived under her rule seemed particularly displeased with her as a Queen and she was never going to go on a random killing spree because she’s never shown any signs of being into slаughtеr for a greater cause, even if that cause is remaining on the Throne.

(The only reason the Sept explosion happened was because she was backed into a corner from every possible direction and facing a trial she could not win (yeah, remember how she wanted a trial by combat and that could have been the end of it? Good times.) and she burned one (1) building to eliminate everyone who was a direct threat for her specifically. It did cause more damage than that, of course, but there is... a significant difference between a building and a few city blocks because there’s no other way to save your skin and the whole city because they’re supposedly traitors.)

If the writers wanted to make a point of Cersei being worse, they wouldn’t have made her anti-Daenerys campaign and propaganda come true literally two episodes after she started planting it (her armies will kill your sons and her dragons will burn your food, she said, and what happened?). They wouldn’t have given Dany the ‘I know Cersei told you I’d burn your shit and destroy your houses if you don’t obey, but it’s not true. Oh, you still support her? Okay, die.’ scene. They wouldn’t have made the Tarlys do what they did to begin with and they certainly wouldn’t have made Dany arrange Field of Fire 2.0 for no good reason (this was literally food for the city she wanted to take and rule over in the near future. Starving the people isn’t the same as starving out the royal family because even during famine, the Queen would literally be the last person to starve. That’s siege 101. She did it because she was frustrated by Tyrion’s constant deflection of anything that could hurt his siblings. That’s in the text; she essentially says it herself).

Cersei at no point said that she wanted to destroy the city so that Daenerys couldn’t have it. She said she wanted to die fighting (perfectly in character) and then took it back like a week later and decided to go for a truce when she realised she was pregnant and had something to lose (also in character). The sudden change was empathised upon enough that it was a perfectly logical choice to have her ring the bells when she realised there was no way out. There was nothing spontaneous or illogical that she did in her time as a Queen; all her actions made perfect sense for the position she was in. As I’ve said time and time again, being ruthless and killing people in war/revenge does not, in any way, equal madness or even a start on the road to it. If there was ever a Mad Queen on the show (highly debatable, but that’s a topic for another post), it was certainly not her.

Back in s7, these instances above were all meant to be ‘hey, wait a minute’ moments and they were never leading to Jaime killing Cersei because she was never going to go mad out of nowhere (no, not even if she’d had a miscarriage. The most logical course of action for that timeline would have been her going back to the ‘fight and die’ scenario and I’ve at one point already talked about why that would have been a highly unsatisfying death for her as a character).

I’ve even read accusations that the whole script of the Jon/Dany scene was meant for them, which is straight up laughable because if Cersei ever started talking to Jaime about building a new better world, all he would have (rightfully) accused her of would have been letting Euron hook her on his drug habit. She literally said in 7x07, loud and clear, that she doesn’t give a fuсk about the world and what she wants from it is safety for her and her family. Power was a great bonus, to be sure, seeing as she’d always wanted it, but she gave it up when it was that or death, and she always would have. All her most powerful decisions have stemmed from the desire to protect herself and 'those who matter’ (or, in the case of Blackwater - another early example! - making sure that the end is as painless as possible), which Jaime understood (he and Tyrion talked about it while he was captured), even when he felt betrayed by her decisions. Show-wise, their story was never leading to any kind of spiteful murdеr-suiсidе situation, especially not for the greater good. It makes no sense with the way they’ve been written ever since the start and their character arcs through the seasons. It certainly makes a lot less sense than it does for Jon and Dany’s situation in 8x06. It could have been developed more, yes; it could have dived right into the weight of what he does instead of skirting around it for the rest of the episode, but that doesn’t mean it actually wasn’t meant for them to begin with.

TL;DR: Whatever you think of the characterisation in Jon and Dany’s last scene, it was always theirs and theirs alone, sorry. Jaime and Cersei, especially on the show, have absolutely nothing to do with it.