#their similarities and differences are just too perfect

[mrsfancyferrari]

You Know Me Best

Summary: Charles has a bad day and you as his best friend always knows what he wants, but do you really?

Song: Friends by Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: This is similar to Just One Kiss but the ending is the different and spicy version. This is my first time writing an erotic scene so please just give constructive criticism. I just want to keep celebrating Charles' win T_T

Word count: 3.6k

Charles Leclerc experienced a challenging day on the track, and as his best friend, you noticed his need for comfort and reassurance. Charles has always been known for being incredibly intuitive, and you knew that he wanted to unwind and seek solace in his favorite activities.

Whenever Charles feels overwhelmed or stressed, he tends to crave comfort food. You know that he can always count on you to bring him his favorite treats, whether it's a bowl of warm homemade soup or a delicious sandwich.

You knew that providing him with one of his favorite foods would provide him with a sense of comfort and stability.

Throughout the day, you noticed a newfound attentiveness among the team members and fans alike. They knew that Charles was having a bad day, and they couldn't help but notice the changes in his behavior.

Whether it was his distracted demeanor or the way he constantly sought out your comfort, everyone realized that something was amiss.

However, what no one realized was that you were the one who understood Charles better than anyone else.

You knew exactly what he needed, and you were determined to bring him the comfort and reassurance he craved.

Throughout the years, you made sure that Charles had his favorite meals, whether it was sneaking him a few bites of dessert during team meetings or surprising him with a late-night snack.

You knew that these small gestures would make a difference, helping him regain his footing and regain his confidence.

"Are you sure you're not married or something?" Daniel joked to you as he watched you give Charles some snacks.

"No, just really good friends," you replied with a laugh. "But sometimes it feels like we're practically married with how well I know him."

Daniel chuckled and said, "Well, if you ever decide to tie the knot, I hope you'll remember to invite me to the wedding. I wouldn't want to miss out on witnessing such a perfect match!"

"Of course, Daniel! You'll be at the top of the guest list," you replied, grateful for the lighthearted moment amidst the tension.

What you didn't know was that Charles was listening to your conversation. As he overheard Daniel's comment about you two being a perfect match, a small smile formed on his face, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to your friendship than he had realized.

Your friendship with Charles runs deep, rooted in years of shared experiences and unwavering support. From late-night conversations to celebrating each other's successes, you have been there for each other through thick and thin.

Charles knows that your understanding of him goes beyond mere comfort food, and he cherishes the bond you share.

But as the smile lingered on his face, Charles couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for something more than just friendship between the two of you.

The thought had crossed his mind before, but now, listening to your conversation with Daniel, it seemed like the universe was teasing him with the possibility of a deeper connection. . . .

The thought of a deeper connection with Charles had always lingered in your heart, but fear had held you back from taking any action. You were in love with him, and had been for as long as you could remember, but the risk of losing the friendship you cherished so much had always been too great.

As you watched Charles zoom around the Monaco track in his racing car, gripping onto your seat in the paddock, a surge of emotions washed over you. The adrenaline, the excitement, and the undeniable sense of pride in seeing him pursue his passion ignited a fire within you.

The roar of the engine filled the air as Charles sped past, his car a blur of color. A mix of excitement and anxiety washed over you, causing your heart to race in sync with the car.

As you held your breath, you couldn't help but notice the fierce competition from Max Verstappen and Lando Norris, who were hot on Charles' heels, ready to seize any opportunity to overtake him.

The race was far from over, and the tension only grew as the laps ticked by, making you wonder if Charles would be able to maintain his lead until the end.

The race intensified with each passing lap, as Charles skillfully navigated the twists and turns of the Monaco track. He expertly maneuvered his car, pushing it to its limits, while Max Verstappen and Lando Norris continued to apply relentless pressure. The crowd erupted with excitement, their cheers echoing through the air, as the three drivers engaged in a thrilling battle for the top spot.

Every move, every split-second decision, held the potential to determine the outcome of the race. The tension was palpable as the cars zoomed past, their engines roaring and tires screeching, creating a symphony of speed.

With each passing lap, the stakes grew higher, fueling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. As the race entered its final stages, every corner became a make-or-break moment, and you held your breath, praying for Charles to maintain his lead until the checkered flag.

As soon as he crossed the finish line, everyone jumped up from their seats, including you. The air was filled with a mix of cheers, applause, and jubilation as Charles secured the victory he had fought so hard for.

Emotions overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride and joy for him.

You rushed to the podium, eager to congratulate Charles on his well-deserved win. Your heart swelled with pride as you embraced him, knowing that your unwavering support had played a small part in his momentous victory.

Charles stepped out of his racing car, his face beaming with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. The crowd erupted into a thunderous applause, recognizing his incredible skill and determination in securing the hard-fought victory.

When he finally found you, Charles quickly hugged you tightly, his grip filled with gratitude and genuine appreciation.

The bond between you and Charles had grown stronger through countless races, and this victory was a testament to the unwavering support and belief you had in each other.

As his head was tucked into your neck, you gently stroked his hair in response, feeling the weight of his exhaustion and the elation of his triumph. In that moment, you knew that all the sacrifices, the late nights, and the unwavering support were worth it, as you celebrated this unforgettable victory together.

"You did it," you whispered, your voice filled with pride and admiration. "All your hard work and determination paid off. I couldn't be happier for you."

Charles smiled against your neck and whispered back, "Thank you for always believing in me. I couldn't have done it without you."

Charles then let go of you and looked into your eyes before saying, "Can you meet me in my driver's room after? I have something important to discuss with you."

"Sure," you nodded as he was taken away by a staff member. As you watched Charles disappear into the crowd, your mind raced with anticipation, wondering what he could possibly have to discuss with you.

As you watched Charles make his way to the podium, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for his remarkable achievement. The sight of him standing tall, his face glowing with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph, filled you with immense pride.

It was a moment that would forever be etched in your memory, a testament to the years of hard work and determination that had brought him to this point.

"He likes you, you know,"

Startled by Arthur Leclerc's sudden appearance, you turned to face him with a surprised expression. "What do you mean?" you asked, curious about his comment.

Arthur smirked mischievously and replied, "Oh, come on. It's obvious. Charles talks about you all the time. I think he's finally ready to take your relationship to the next level."

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Oh, Arthur, you've got it all wrong. Charles and I are just friends."

Arthur's eyebrows raised at your comment. "Maman says otherwise, she's always talking about you," he said with a smirk.

You felt a mix of surprise and curiosity, wondering what Charles' mother could possibly be saying about you.

"Just know that the family will welcome you in with open arms if you two get together," Arthur added, his mischievous smirk widening. As he walked away, leaving you with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Charles than just friendship.

As Charles stood on the podium, he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude and honor as the Prince of Monaco handed him the golden trophy. The gleaming trophy symbolized not only his extraordinary victory, but also the recognition and respect he had earned from the racing community and the world at large.

In that moment, as the national anthem played and Charles made a point to lock eyes with you, it felt like a silent affirmation of his feelings. The intensity of his gaze left you with no doubt that there was something more than friendship between you two, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and anticipation for what the future might hold.

In that moment, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through your chest, matching the pride evident in his eyes. As the applause filled the air, you realized that your own feelings for Charles had grown deeper than you had allowed yourself to admit.

The future suddenly seemed full of possibilities, and you couldn't wait to explore them together. . . .

As the celebrations continued, you found yourself caught up in the whirlwind of joy and excitement surrounding Charles and Ferrari's victory. The atmosphere was electric, filled with cheers, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses.

In that moment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness for Charles and a deep sense of pride for being a part of his journey.

A staff member approached you with a message, informing you that Charles was looking for you amidst the celebrations.

As your heart raced with anticipation, you couldn't help but wonder what he wanted to say and how this momentous victory would further solidify the bond between you.

"Charles wants to see you," they said, their voice filled with urgency. Intrigued and slightly nervous, you followed the staff member through the crowd and made your way to Charles' private suite.

As you knocked on the door, your heart raced with anticipation, wondering what Charles wanted to discuss with you in this intimate setting.

As you wait for Charles to open the door, a mix of excitement and nervousness floods your senses. Your heart pounds in your chest, and your mind races with possibilities of what he might say.

In this moment, every second feels like an eternity, and you can't help but wonder how this conversation will shape the future of your relationship.

You heard the sound of footsteps growing louder and closer to the door, causing your anticipation to heighten. Each step seemed to echo in your ears, building up the tension and making you even more eager to see Charles and hear what he had to say.

As you heard the footsteps come closer to the door, your anticipation grew. The sound of Charles' voice calling your name sent a thrill through your entire body, and you couldn't wait to see the expression on his face as he opened the door.

"Yes, it's me Charles," you responded, a smile spreading across your face.

The door swung open, revealing Charles with a mixture of excitement and nervousness mirrored in his eyes.

When you met Charles' gaze, there was something in his eyes that took your breath away: a blend of lust and desire that took you by surprise.

His eyes scanned your whole body slowly, taking in every detail with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, his gaze filled with a newfound appreciation and longing.

As his eyes scanned your whole body slowly, you felt a shiver run down your spine. It was as if he was undressing you with his gaze, his desire palpable in the air. You couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation, wondering what he had in mind for the two of you.

It was as if he was taking in every detail, every curve, every nuance, and savoring the moment.

"Charles?"

For a brief moment, Charles blinked and locked eyes with you, seemingly forgetting the intimate setting you were in. The intensity of his gaze broke the tension, and you could sense a deep connection forming between you.

It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

"Come in," he said, widening the door for you, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability. As you stepped inside, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the possibility of what this conversation could bring.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Charles?" you asked, your voice filled with curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

Charles took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice steady yet filled with a hint of vulnerability. "I wanted to talk about us," he whispered, his words hanging in the air

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, something I've been holding back for far too long.

You nodded, encouraging him to say it, your heart pounding with anticipation. The words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of his confession building.

Charles took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity. "I wanted to talk about us," he began, his words hanging in the air. "I've realized that I can't ignore my feelings for you any longer. I've fallen in love with you."

Your eyes widened at his statement, unable to believe what you were hearing. The room fell silent as you processed his words, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

"Oh no, I knew it wasn't going to work," Charles muttered into his hands, taking your silence as an assumption that you rejected him. But little did he know, your silence was not a sign of rejection, but rather a moment of shock and disbelief.

You were quick to realize that Charles misunderstood your silence, so you walked over to him and gently took his hands off his face, meeting his eyes with a reassuring gaze.

As his scared eyes met your excited eyes, a moment of vulnerability passed between you. You could see the fear of rejection lingering in his gaze, while your eyes reflected a mixture of surprise and joy. In that instant, you knew that this confession meant as much to him as it did to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection for him.

"I love you too, Charles," you whispered as you cupped his cheeks gently. The weight of his confession lifted off both of you, replaced by an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief.

In that moment, Charles couldn't contain his joy and excitement. He quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his hands around your waist, as if afraid that you might slip away.

The warmth of his embrace reassured you that his love was genuine, and you couldn't help but melt into his arms, feeling a sense of safety and belonging that you had longed for.

"Can I?" he muttered, pulling back from the hug enough to stare at your lips. The intense desire in his eyes matched the longing in his voice, as if he was seeking permission to seal his confession with a passionate kiss.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, closing the distance between your lips. The moment your mouths met, a surge of electricity coursed through your bodies, igniting a fire that had been simmering between you. The kiss was passionate and filled with all the pent-up emotions that had been building since the moment you met.

As your lips met, a wave of butterflies fluttered in your stomach, a tingling sensation spread through your chest, and your knees felt weak with anticipation.

The intensity of the kiss confirmed that the connection between you and Charles was not only emotional, but also physical, leaving you both breathless and craving for more. . . .

Their bodies moved as one, their hands exploring every inch of each other's skin. Their breaths intertwined in a symphony of desire as they surrendered to the heat of their passion.

Soft moans escaped their lips, mingling with whispered words of love and longing. In the midst of their ecstasy, their eyes locked, conveying a depth of connection that words could never capture.

"I've waited so long for this," Charles whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and adoration.

"Me too," you responded, your voice laced with pure bliss.

In that intimate moment, every touch felt like the caress of silk against skin. Your fingertips danced across each other's bare flesh, creating a symphony of pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

Charles carried you onto the sofa, laying you down as he kneeled over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own.

You gasp as Charles's lips make contact with your neck, his touch sending electric currents through your body.

The sensation of his warm breath against your skin intensifies the desire pooling within you, as you arch your neck, granting him further access to explore the depths of your pleasure.

Charles' hands moved with purpose, skillfully undoing the buttons of your blouse one by one. As each article of clothing fell away, he whispered seductive words of praise and desire in your ear, igniting a deeper sense of arousal within you.

You surrendered to his words, intoxicated by the way he took control and unleashed a wave of passion that consumed you both.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. "I want to explore every inch of you, to taste every part of your pleasure."

His words sent shivers down your spine, fueling your desire and leaving you yearning for more of his commanding touch.

You respond with a low, sultry moan, your body arching further into his touch, silently begging for more. The sound of your moans only adds to Charles's desire, fueling his determination to fulfill your every craving and ignite a passion that would consume you both. "I want you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you so badly."

The intensity of your desire could be seen in your eyes when you looked up at him.

"I want you too, Charles," you said, biting your lower lip.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I can't believe you're mine."

You smiled up at him, your eyes filled with love.

"I'm all yours, Charles," you said, reaching up to pull him down on top of you.

Charles didn't waste any time. He kissed you deeply, your tongues dancing together in a passionate embrace. He ran his hands over your body, feeling every curve and contour.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing," he said, his breath hot against your ear.

You moaned, your body writhing beneath him.

"Charles, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me."

Charles didn't need any more encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his dick throbbing with need.

"Are you ready for me, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded, your eyes wide with desire.

"Yes, Charles, I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Charles pushed inside you, feeling your tight warmth surround him. He groaned with pleasure, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

You moaned, your fingers digging into his back, as Charles continued to move inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Charles, don't stop," you begged, your hips meeting his with every thrust.

Charles couldn't stop if he wanted to. He was lost in the pleasure of being inside you, of feeling your body respond to his touch.

"Come for me, Y/N," he said, his voice husky with desire. "I want to feel you come apart in my arms." "I'm so close, Charles," you gasped, your voice filled with desperation. "Please, don't stop."

Charles's movements became faster and more intense, his breathing ragged. "I won't stop, Y/N," he growled, his voice filled with determination. "I want you to come for me, to lose yourself in pleasure."

The room filled with the sounds of your moans and the rhythmic slapping of your bodies coming together. As the intensity built, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall into ecstasy.

And then, with one final thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of orgasm washed over you.

Charles kissed your forehead gently. "I promise, Y/N. I'll never let you go. You're my everything."

And in that moment, as you melted into each other's arms, you knew that this was a love that would withstand any obstacle. . . .

[fumifooms]

Namalin

Namari x Falin

Easy short rarepair spotlight post for prosperity~ This one I didn’t think of on my own for once, I don’t know if it’s just I forgot the decided-on ship name or what but I remember seeing really nice art and a couple posts about it that I can’t find again 💔 Namalin warrior you are out there and not forgotten ty for making me see the light

I like that Namari’s critical of Falin! I have a whole character analysis on Falin if you’re interested, but it’s generally well noticed that people around Falin idealize her a lot. Laios, Marcille and Toshiro all put her on a pedestral of ultimate goodness in the world, a saintess if nothing short of perfection. Sounds like Chilchuck felt sort of creeped out by her vibes, uncomfortable because he couldn’t read her, so unlike Namari it seems he preferred steering clear of her rather than debate opposed ideologies like he usually does. Makes sense if unlike Namari his issue is with her cryptic aura rather than the stances she does show. "… The dungeon is no place for soft hearts" my ultimate namalin scene <333 It’s fun because while this scene is there to show us a lot of things, mostly to establish Falin’s characters better as it’s the first flashback of her we get, the conflict in it is more than anything else Falin vs Namari in how they contrast and clash and approach situations differently. Namari wants security in swift effective violence and thinks Falin too soft for her own good when she prefers a pacifist approach and promotes compassion even for the "undeserving" in Namari’s eyes. Falin steps between the battle ready Namari and the ghost, fearless. Falin effortlessly gently exorcises the ghost without one step back, quickly. Falin proves someone wrong. Falin proves someone wrong.

I love thinking of Namari being surprised when she learns new aspects of Falin. I like Falin having the power to shape people’s views on her. With Falin ships the most fun part for me is usually that point where Falin/the relationship becomes a clean slate: the person realizes they haven’t been seeing all of her, realizes there’s more of her they hadn’t noticed or that she hadn’t shown, that there’s change, a shift in the views on each other and the dynamic a bit.

Namari often feels like an external view looking in to me… I need to make a proper analysis on her but like. I made a lamari post once (analytic more than personally invested rip sorry) and I go with the same Namari take here, I think she’s someone who tends to have an outsider view on people and relationships if that makes sense, she’s a coworker before anything else and she’s content staying at a distance, she’s not objective per se but she tries to keep feelings out of her choices and how she sees people (her lil arc on not staying to save Falin despite the existing camaderie but in the end asking to work for the Flokes more because she wants to stay with them). She’s serious no nonsense on the job but friendly off the job and likes having casual friends, but she’s not… She doesn’t really feel connected to the group. She’s so focused on doing her job, even if she does get impulsive and passionate and too assertive for her bosses’ tastes, so focused on working her reputation and life from the ground up that that professionalism and attitude limits her social life. It doesn’t help that her reputation makes her widely judged, so she probably enters social spaces on the derensive. The closest person she was to pre-canon as far as we knew was Chilchuck and even they have a very "coworker I get along with" dynamic more than friends, with a similar sense of boundaries, humor and world view. Also like canon says a few time, the party didn’t really try to get to know each other well pre-canon, didn’t hang out after work often no one knew where Marcille was from and no one thought that was weird (also how no one had the instinct to ask about Senshi’s past) etc, the notable exception is we’re shown Namari and Chilchuck hitting taverns together and having a grand time. Everyone’s fine with things as they are, they get along decent even if not everyone considers each other friends exactly. Where I’m getting at is that to me, it feels like she tries keeping emotional distance. Emotional distance from people in general being something which in my interpretation of Falin is also present, which would make it a theme and common thread interesting to explore imo. But yes like, Namari looking at Falin, and how everyone treats her, and being more skeptical, seeing her for what she is a little more, maybe even uncharitable. "Why is everyone treating her like she’s all that? She’s gentle sure but seems like a doormat to me" and then one day she comes running up with her mace ready to cave in someone’s face to protect Laios. So yeah… Keeping her distance but one day Falin offering her some gentleness that feels very too personal for someone who’s not used to being genuine and simply showing that they care… Them talking a bit which leaves her stumped and mindblown in a quiet way when Falin defies her expectations. Namari growing on Falin when she stays and decides to open herself up more, or when Falin ends up reading her really well like she’s shown to do with her parents and Marcille’s worries. She’s very attuned to worrying and why and when different people do it especially when it comes to when they worry for others, perhaps because she does a lot of that too, so I think she’d nail down how Namari does care for the rest of the party and it’d make Namari feel seen both in a warm validating way and in a scared naked way.

We see in the tentacles chapter that she’s someone’s who’s very protective and looks out for her peers in a tough love way. She’s overbearing but it’s because she wants everyone to have the best chances. I like that she’s very confrontational and somewhat pushy and rude, but it’s tough love, it’s protective care: asserting herself to better protect and defend. The opposite of Falin’s type of care, quiet and self-sacrificial devotion. They’re barbarian x healer but they’re also bodyguard x bodyguard in their attitude and role. … What I want for them is slow burn slice of life of being coworkers and slowly getting to know each other better, pretty fluffy, but god, put this way they’d have the potential to be such a hot layered mess of insanely mutually devoted codependence… Falin taking a hit for Namari and Namari being scarred by it forever, lots of arguments about it, my god.

I like that she’s the fighter to Falin’s healer. I looove thinking of scenes of Falin healing Namari, necessitating touch and like, a moment of slowing down and sitting together in silence, too intimate, the perfect opportunity to connect that neither truly want to take until one day they do. I love how onesided I imagine the relationship would be at first. Again, as per my interpretation of Falin, I think Namari would have all these little observations and opinions on Falin meanwhile Falin really doesn’t think of Namari much at first. So Namari thinks a lot about Falin and thinks she’s got her pinned down but hasn’t (not that she’s fully wrong, she’d have credit and confront Falin on some of her flaws like the doormat thing), while Falin is very passive about Namari and doesn’t think deeply about her or anything but she read Namari’s insecurities and logic well. Not unlike how Laios was the one who seemed to understand Namari’s way of care the best in the party in the tentacles episode, and how he was very understanding of her choice and reasons. In Falin’s case it’s more like, the objectivity of passivity… She cares about Namari less than Laios who generally seeks to form bonds, so her lack of investment allows her a neutral perspective. In that way another parallel with Namari that I’m drawing, except Namari lets feelings from her opinions seeps in more… Onesided beef my beloved. I’m going insane save me this post was a mistake. I think Falin takes the crumbs of friendship and love where she can without expecting or asking for anything more than what’s offered, and I think her relationship with Namari (or anyone really) would start out the way it did with Marcille: the other takes the initiative and they end up spending time together, Falin is friendly but unattached until the bond gets gradually and wordlessly strenghtened through regularly spending moments together. So! I think Namari would need to take a lot of the first steps, which since again she’s confrontational & argumentative and doesn’t hold herself back on that front that could spark a lot of conversations I think. Ooor since Falin cares about Namari less than Laios and Marcille she allows herself to be bolder herself lol. Or also circumstances force them to spend time together like dungeon party getting separated shenanigans.

I think their personalities match cutely, I think falin would try to protect namari like she does others but also Namari simply doesn’t need protection, just support. And I think they’re complementary in that way that Namari’s friendly but also won’t sugarcoat things, and I think if she takes an interest in Falin it could go from there and she could develop some understanding of her and idk like an intrigued crush….

Namari wants stability & security & to, like, not be judged and rejected and exiled lol, to find her nest her pack the place where she feels good and wanted in. I think having a fitting partner would help in that (similarly to how the found family with the Flokes seemed to. Oh another parallel, Falin’s top priority is protecting Laios her brother and what Namari are a family figure) and I think Falin would fulfill that cozy protection and that warm ‘being seen and not judged’ feeling. But also Namari would run up to her and yell about her trying to sacrifice herself ever.

Another fun thread to explore: post-canon guilt for not having gone to save her. Sure, they weren’t close, but they had some nice memories, didn’t they? Namari cares, and it stings despite herself when it feels like people think she doesn’t. Oh it wasn’t a lost cause after all, oh it’d have worked out, oh I could have stayed loyal and it wouldn’t have compromised myself in the end. Wanting to apologize to Falin, or just ahnging out with her and sharing a moment after she wakes up. And tangent but that’s interesting to think about… Narratively, I think the purpose of Namari and Toshiro in the story, beyond strenghtening the theme of "seek to understand what is different from you and promote unity despite them" and fleshing the cast and worldbuilding, is Toshiro’s purpose was being a foil & tool in Laios’ arc (trouble connecting with people) while Namari’s was being and a foil & tool in Marcille’s arc (standing up for ideals without being out of touch with harsh realities and needs). They are the conflict that push our protagonists to grow— and they explore different ways of dealing with a situation or topic, different ways of growing into themselves on that end: Laios needing to listen to others more and Toshiro needing to focus on voicing himself more to be able to connect, Marcille needing to learn ideals sometimes cost too much and Namari needing to internalize that ideals are sometimes worth risks (not only to be able to find a reasonable but fulfilling life balance, but also to get in touch with their compassion: Namari restricts her own too much and Marcille is too harsh on people she deems to be breaking values, like Namari not risking her life and career for a friend with no promise of success, or even like how Namari is harsh on Falin’s way of doing things : too gentle, too soft, too idealistic) (similarly to Chilchuck’s arc with Marcille too, and he also plays a hand in advancing that arc in the Namari chapters). We are getting far from namalin sorry ummm preview for future analyses like Toshiro’s contrasting approach to grief and accepting loss.

More post-canon namalin! Thinking about a timeline where… Namari is fond of Falin finding herself and going off to do her thing. "Finally!" she thinks. If she’s still for hire, maybe Falin would want her to come along, either as guide or bodyguard <3, she knows Namari has a lot of good avice on a lot of things to give, plus they’ve worked together before. She hires Namari and they travel for a bit. Travel would do Namari good too I think, even if her end goal is to settle and I think Falin’s would be too eventually. Seeing sights that light her wonder for the world and going places where people don’t know her story, don’t recognize her face or her name. Them, feeling free. Finding a companionship that feels uplifting instead of stifling or charged. Namari having been too in her head about reputation and social games and money that they hit the roads and spend time in nature and it’s like, woah. I’ve been living in a small world with made up rules.

Ahh yes romance, Namari and Falin kissing after 3 years of not really knowing each other despite seeing each other every day then 2 months of wanting to spend more and more time together until they’re an inseparable duo! Workwives. I want them to stand next to each other during campire time and Namari cracks little jokes and Namari laughs. I want Namari to gift Falin a bug caught in amber and for it to be their wedding/promised to each other thing.

TLDR

Rowdy but levelheaded barbarian x gentle healer that will also cave your face in with a mace I like it…… They’re an interesting duo of mixed stuff. Protection being your purpose and what you’re worth for, literally being a meat shield (Laios, Tansu), finding your individuality recognized and validated through a growing bond with the other. Sticking around as a love language. Also bug immortalized in amber and it being beautiful.

Nevermind this wasn’t short. Um! Anyways.

[bella-goths-wife]

What exactly do the Vs want from Pet? Whether to increase their power, what is each of the Vs looking with them?

🐢

What is each V member looking for in pet?

Warnings: mentions of adult film industry, emotional, physical and psychological abuse,mentions of sexual assault

Vox:

Originally Vox just wanted to use your power to gain him more influence and money

He saw you as a convenient person who he could use up until your powers ran dry before kicking you to the curb

But then you had to go and intrigue him

Your nature of cunning manipulation for survival and your lack of empathy for those who mock you just intrigued him beyond comprehension

He watched you for months as you handled mockery and abuse flawlessly, you had a strength about you that wasn’t common amongst hells population

He spent so much time with you and watched as your abilities grew and part of him felt like he wanted to show you how to use it to its full ability

But there was also a weakness to you that he wanted to exploit in a self imposed way, he wanted to rub away your strength to expose the fleshy vulnerability underneath

And he does as he used the power imbalance between you two to push you to your limits to see the truth underneath your act of strength

He wants a fatherly bond with you, he views you as the daughter he could never have when he was alive

He wants to groom you to be his heir, while also keeping you just powerless enough to never try and contradict him

He wants to raise you above the rest but keep you under his thumb

Velvette:

At first, velvette just wanted a competent assistant to make her life easier

And when Vox brought you in, she trusted that he hadn’t brought in some idiot so she decided to use you to assist her

And you were good at it, extremely good at it

You were so obedient, velvette often commented

Like a dog, she’d always state confidently

She just grew to like you as her obsession became sustained by working with you so closely

She quickly realised why she wanted your presence so much

You became a pet to her

Something cute to pet and show off

And something that she could hold power over you

She gains entertainment from you, you sustain her constant need for attention without her having to endure a friendship with you

She cares about you, but in the same way she’d care about an expensive car

Your a possession to her, you’ve gained her favour through obedience and she craves something to have brief affection with while being able to degrade you

She wants a pet most of all, and you make such a pretty mutt

Valentino:

Valentino wants a victim

Sure, he has plenty in his porn studios who he can abuse at the drop of a hat

But there’s something different about you

Your ability is able to calm him during his rages, and that makes you feel so much more of an intimate victim to Valentino

He has many uses of you, therapist, punching bag, assistant and calmer

He wants to provoke emotions out of you that he can’t get from anyone else

Your like a shiny toy that he wants to poke at to see what reaction you give

Your the perfect victim to him

The perfect toy

He treats you similar to his other toys but the fact that his touches only border on assault shows your a favourite

He doesn’t know what he wants from you, he just knows that he wants you

Your his favourite toy and he wants to keep you forever

This is probably the worst piece I’ve written for this au but I’m sleep deprived and it’s been in my drafts for too long 😭

I’m sorry it’s not detailed

@repostingmyfavs @buttercupfangirl @corvid007 @lilyalone @fandomaddict505 @perkypeony @sparkleyfishies @hazbinhotelxreader @the-faceless-bride @rerarlo @ivebeenthearchersstuff @idontreallyexistyet

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hello,

I have a writing prompt for Michael Kaiser (Blue Lock): Kaiser gets into a pr relationship with an actress and they eventually bond and fall in love.

I think he would have a hard time because of his feelings of worthlessness, but this guy has so much potential, I swear, I love him so much.

If you want to go for a "dark side of Hollywood" type of concept, imagine: a young girl who was raised under the pressure of becoming "the perfect star" and surrounded by the chaos of the industry (Idk, the movie Black Swan comes to mind, or the typical representation of Marilyn's life, something along the lines). I think he could bond with someone who is in a similar mind space as him, but who externalizes it differently, remaining kind and such. He definitely needs someone who is empathetic and can see through his insecurities, and I really like the concept of two characters who are hurt helping each other heal.

If you don't want that much drama, scratch the idea of a hurt oc. Think about someone with an "entrepreneur" mindset: someone ambitious, confident, and level headed, who (again) is empathetic and would call him out and help him grow (I'm thinking about sae, but emotionally competent lol).

You don't really have to go for any of this though, it's just meant to get you inspired to write something for my boy Kaiser. I hope it's not too much. Also, there's no rush at all!!

Thank you in advance. I hope you have a good day 🩷

── THE INSTRUMENT

Synopsis: Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.8k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, implied/referenced abuse, call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, open ending, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: hiiii anon ty for requesting!! i hope that i wrote kaiser in a somewhat satisfactory way 😫 this is my first time writing for him so idk if i got him right 😓 also i have NO idea why but for some reason i decided to write this in the present tense which i literally have never done?? so if it sounds off that’s why 💔 i’m so sorry i really don’t know what possessed me SKDJFSHKL

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

It’s hot and like a bruise, your first phone call with Michael Kaiser. He’s that brand of aggravating and just shy of painful to speak with; morbidly, you wish for the conversation to manifest as some kind of actual injury, perhaps on your upper arm, so you can poke at it until it is tender and blooming. But of course, that sort of thing isn’t possible, so you amuse yourself by tapping your fingers against the counter and considering what you might eat for dinner.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps when you do not respond to his proposition immediately. He speaks with an accent, clipped and short, lending severity to his words even when he’s saying nothing of note. “Miss L/N. It’s in both of our best interests to cooperate.”

He’s not wrong about this. It’s the only reason you’ve stayed on the call for as long as you have — it’s in your best interest. It’s the same for him, too, and the thought almost makes you laugh, because who would’ve expected your interests and his to ever align?

“Of course I heard you,” you say, twisting open your bottle of water, taking a sip and idly wondering if he can hear an accent when you speak, too. It’s difficult for you to notice your own, but maybe to him, you sound as odd as he does to you. “You should learn patience, Mr. Kaiser. Such a heavy request you’re making of me, and yet you demand my answer immediately?”

He huffs. “It’s not something you need to dwell on.”

“It might be,” you say, though it’s not at all. Your mind was made up the moment he asked; everything after that has been nothing more than a ploy to irritate him. You’re good at that, at irritating people. Michael Kaiser is not an exception.

“Miss L/N,” he says again, something like a darker version of pleading creeping into his tone. “Your answer. Now.”

“Well, you already knew before you asked, didn’t you? Naturally, I’ll do it,” you say. “It’s a mutually beneficial partnership. Though I expect you to really try your best, Mr. Kaiser, or else it’ll all be for naught.”

“I could say the same to you,” he says.

“Between the two of us, who is the actress?” you say, chuckling when he is silent. “I am sure that I will be convincing. It’s you who I worry for. Hiding your true feelings has never been one of your strengths, has it? Or you wouldn’t be speaking to me at all.”

“Shut up,” he says after a moment has passed. “I doubt your acting skills are anything to brag about.”

“I know you’ve watched my movies,” you say, and when he doesn’t refute this, you beam. “Have you really?”

“Only because someone I know suggested I should,” he says. “If I want to love you, then I have to understand you. That’s what he told me.”

“And what did you think?” you say.

“I thought that I don’t plan to love you at all, and then I told him as much,” he says, the force of his eye roll transmitting even over the phone. You’re not sure if he’s acting deliberately obtuse or if he really thinks you care about this inane conversation he’s describing, but either way you sigh, because his answer is so telling of his personality.

“I was talking about my movies,” you say.

“I don’t prefer the genre,” he says, and then he’s hanging up with a promise to call you later, if he is so inclined. He doesn’t tell you not to call him, but you feel like he implies it, so you vow to set your phone aside and pay him no mind for the rest of your evening.

I’m dating Michael Kaiser, you type in the body of your email to your manager, who you are certain will be so delighted by this news that he will combust spontaneously upon hearing it. You want to type it again, this unbelievable turn of events, so you do. I’m dating Michael Kaiser. Then you delete the repetition, reverting it once again into a formal email, instead of a giddy celebration over an event which should not prompt giddiness or anything resembling it.

It’s a relationship meant to salvage his ruined reputation and boost your career in one fell swoop, and so it’s a relationship that can only work if it’s formed between you two in particular. He, who is a foul-mouthed soccer prodigy, known better for his crass treatment of others than any actual skills he may possess, and you, a rising star who will do anything to be famous and are already of a serviceable status to be seen with him.

Despite your burst of excitement, the prospect of dating Michael Kaiser isn’t actually a thrilling one. The rumors of his horrid demeanor aren’t rumors, and you know this well, albeit through secondhand accounts. Cruelty is the way that he operates, his so-to-speak basal mode, and because it is so intrinsic to his being, you do not fancy that he will deviate from that malicious rule, even for you.

But you are accustomed to a false existence. Donning a facade and masquerading as a person who you are not is the only thing you are good at, are good for, and this time is no different than every other. You will put on the mask of a woman who is loved by Michael Kaiser, who has tamed that mad emperor and turned him into her sweet pet, and you will once again fool the world into believing you.  

He’s doing an interview today. You’re only aware because he texts you right before and tells you to turn on the TV to a channel you’d never choose if you had a say in the matter. But you’re intrigued and he refuses to explain further, so you do as he commands and find yourself watching as he reclines back in a leather armchair and smirks at the host, who’s clearly nervous.

She’s pretty, her hands shaking but her expression serious. You’ve never seen her before, which means she’s new. Of course, that’s not a surprise; only someone very inexperienced or very stupid would invite Michael Kaiser to their show, and she does not seem to be particularly stupid, so her affliction is the first. 

“Um, Mr. Kaiser, it’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, like she cannot quite believe that he is actually there, or like she is afraid of what he might take offense at, or some combination of the two.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he says, all roguish and self-assured, which is such a contrast to his typically surly demeanor that you have to commend the girl for keeping her composure.

They speak at length about his soccer career, throwing around words you do not understand and do not care to. It’s so boring you almost power down the television and tell him you think as much, but then the girl clears her throat, her face turning a comical shade of red as her fists clench the paper she’s been reading off of.

“This last question is from our viewers, but it’s personal, so if you don’t want to answer, then it’s not a problem,” she says, squirming in her chair, probably hoping he does not humiliate her. It will be bad for her career if he does, even if by now everyone knows what kind of person he is.

“Go on, then. I feel like we’ve built a rapport here, so I don’t mind it as much if it’s from you,” he says. It’s a perfectly packaged sentiment. His PR team must have tortured him into this new persona. You try to imagine it — it’s definitely a humorous thought, picturing the Bastard München representative slamming Michael Kaiser’s face into a bowl of water for every snarky comment he makes. Unrealistic, though. They would never risk compromising his performance like that.

“There’s rumors that you’re seeing Y/N L/N, the actress. A source who claims to be close to you both mentioned it online, and people can’t stop talking about the possibility. Neither you nor Miss L/N have addressed it, though, and our viewers were hoping you might…?” She cringes back, already preparing for one of his tirades, but he only smiles genially and winks at the camera. You remind yourself to tell him later that he’s laying it on too thick, even if you are enjoying this new character that he’s playing up for the sake of it.

“Y/N L/N? I’m shocked that you think I’m handsome enough to date someone like her,” he says. Your phone buzzes — it’s your manager, crowing about how impressed he is with your ‘boyfriend’ and his presence of mind. 

“So it’s a no?” the interviewer says, almost hopefully. He’s mysterious when he shrugs, mysterious and more than a little coy, as if she’s flattering him and he’s too shy to accept the praise.

“If Miss L/N ever deems me to be worthy of her, then it’s a yes in a heartbeat,” he says. It’s an excellent setup for his redemption, and the girl plays into it so beautifully that you tell your manager to send her flowers or some chocolate at the earliest possible opportunity.

“I think that you’ve shown yourself to be an excellent candidate today,” she says.

“Have I? I’ve really been trying to prove myself,” he says. Dreamy sighs ripple through the live studio audience. Someone whistles. It’s all very romantic and fairy-tale-esque, although he is far from being any kind of prince.

“You’re doing great,” the girl assures him. “I’m sure that, if Miss L/N is watching, she’ll have no choice but to be smitten.”

“If she’s watching? Oh, the thought didn’t even cross my mind,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. You shouldn’t have doubted him and his audacity; he’s fallen into the role as if he were born to play it. “How embarrassing. I’ve just confessed to her on live television without even knowing if she’s interested…”

He’s actually blushing. You are doubly awed — he’s a natural-born talent. It’s a shame that he’s devoted to soccer; he could make it out like a bandit in the acting industry.

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed. How could she ever reject someone like you?” she assures him. How, indeed! At the moment, you are so pleased that you could kiss him. He’s better than any co-star you’ve ever had to work with, in that he is making your job exponentially easier instead of exponentially more difficult.

“If she really is watching, then I can only pray she heard you say that part,” he says, waving in greeting, presumably at you. “Hello, Miss L/N. I really admire you, so if you find me at all agreeable, then I would quite like it if you would say yes to the date I’m going to ask you on.”

He’s made the world swoon and your social media mentions triple. People are begging you to say yes, to give him a chance, to see how he has changed. They want to live through you, and you will let them.

When he calls you, you tell him you were thrilled by his performance. This causes him to shoot back that he finds you insufferable and condescending, to which you say that it’s what makes you and him such a perfect pair. Then you recite an address, and he asks you what you’re going on about. You answer that it is the place where you will have your first date, and then you hang up before he can respond, just so that you can deny him the chance to do it to you first. 

Cameras flash in your faces as you enter the restaurant your manager has booked a reservation at. Michael Kaiser’s arm is wrapped around your waist, and it’s nauseatingly domestic, the kind of scene that would be the cover for one of those coming-of-age movies your agent loves booking for you. You wait for the frantic sound of camera shutters to slow, and then you tug on his sleeve.

“What is it?” he says. It’s quiet enough that no one else can hear, which is why it’s devoid of any warmth, but you are unruffled.

“Your tie,” you say. “It’s not crooked, but we will pretend that it is, and I’ll fix it so that there is something sweet to accompany the tabloid articles that will come out tomorrow.”

Your hands reach for his neck, and he does something you do not comprehend — flinching back, he shakes his head. When he realizes he’s done this, he grits his teeth, like the anger can make up for the temporary weakness. You do not press the issue, merely furrowing your brow and gazing up at him, doing your best to ensure that your eyes remain soft, so that the exchange is not misinterpreted by the parasites around you.

“No,” he says. “Do something else, but leave my tie alone.”

“Alright,” you say. It’s not sensible for you to argue, and anyways it doesn’t matter much what you are doing, as long as you are doing something. Humming to yourself, you adjust the lapels of his jacket. The cameras go off again. You pretend like you do not notice, like the world consists of only you two, and then you interlace your fingers with his, allowing him to drag you into the restaurant behind him.

It’s your turn to be interviewed. You’re wearing a dress, your legs crossed at the ankles — it’s demure and practical and prevents anyone from leering at you, so it’s been a habit of yours for quite a while. The interviewer is female, though, which calms you a bit. She’s older, around your mother’s age, and the wrinkles on her forehead remind you that you should call your parents and arrange for them to meet your doting boyfriend.

“Miss L/N, I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to finally meet you!” the woman says. You think her name may be Anne, but she hasn’t introduced herself to you yet, so you’re not certain.

“You are too kind. If anything, it’s an honor for me to be here,” you say. The audience really likes that, when you are humble and shy and so darling. It’s palatable and easy for them to digest, or that’s what your manager tells you. 

“Tell us about your upcoming projects,” she says after giving you the appropriate amount of praise for your charming personality.

“I’m currently shooting a new romantic comedy, but I’m afraid it’s all very hush-hush, so I can’t say too much about it. I think you all will really enjoy it, though, and I’m looking forward to the day that we can discuss it at length,” you say. 

The conversation goes on like that for a bit, but you know she’s going through the motions because she has to, not because she wants to. There’s only one question she cares to ask, but if she just talks to you about your boyfriend and not your own accomplishments, then she’ll be blasted online as an anti-feminist. You hear quite frequently that this is akin to suicide in the world of marketing, so you can’t blame her.

That doesn’t stop you from having some fun. When she’s exhausted every possible avenue of questioning you about your future plans and past successes, you make as if you’re going to stand up and leave. Panic leaps across her face, and you snicker.

“We’ve spoken at such length about my acting career. You can’t possibly have any more questions about it, hm? You probably know more than my manager does!” Your attitude is balanced out by the joke. The audience laughs. It’s a fine line that you walk, but if you do not have the chance to act sharper every now and again, you believe you will die — internally if not externally — so you take such risks when you can justify them to yourself.

“You’re dating Michael Kaiser now, aren’t you?” she says. It’s a rancid curiosity she hides with a motherly type of concern. You brush off your legs, recross them, and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you say. You don’t have to play the games that he did; you both are established now. Official. A bona-fide couple. Anyways, it’s more appealing if you are outright with it.

“How has that been? You’ve really made a difference in that young man’s life, it seems,” she says.

The best way to lie is to tell the truth. “Yes, I suppose I have, but he has made an equal difference in mine. He is as good for me as I am for him; truly, I never understood what it meant when my parents called each other their ‘better halves’ until we met.”

In an hour, there will be thousands of posts online about this. If Y/N and Michael break up, then I don’t believe in love anymore! Maybe soulmates are real! Couple goals! These are the kinds of captions you are anticipating. The two of you will send screenshots to one another and laugh about how gullible the world is, and then you will strategically plan which comments to like and posts to favorite so that your message goes through. That’s the extent of your relationship with him, really, at least when the two of you are alone. The detachedness makes things much easier than they otherwise would be.

“There’s a popular theory going around that the two of you have had a secret wedding already. Is it true? Am I speaking to Mrs. Kaiser at the moment?” she says, eyes glittering like a vulture’s. She’s ready to pounce on any hesitation, any brief indecision that you might show, but you have spent more time in the spotlight than in your own parents’ home, so you don’t even waver.

“Marriage! I think we’re a bit too early in our relationship to be considering such things, and a bit too early in our lives to be rushing into major decisions like that,” you say. “If and when the time comes, you’ll be the first to know, but it won’t be for a while.”

It won’t be at all, actually. This relationship is not going to last for more than another month. Once the buzz surrounding you two dies, you and he will quietly split. It’ll be as if you never met in the first place.

Your phone rings as you’re leaving the studio. The caller ID says that it is Michael Kaiser, and the thought that he was watching your interview in the same way you watched his makes you feel odd.

“Hello?” you say.

“I’m not gonna marry you. Never-fucking-ever. If you’re expecting a ring, then put it out of your mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you say. “How else would you have liked me to answer that question?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Neither of you hang up on the other — you don’t think you can summon the wherewithal to, which is out of character for him but typical for you — though you both also don’t speak any further. He stays on the line while you drive home, breathing softly like he is sleeping, but you are sure that he is not. The point of it is lost on you, but then you drive into a tunnel and the call ends on its own, so it’s moot anyways. 

Your parents are excited to meet Michael Kaiser. They’ve read up on him extensively, watched all his interviews and even his game highlights. Your mother calls you the night before just so she can gush to you about how handsome he is, how you’ve really done well for yourself this time around. Her approval is nice to have, though superfluous, like a luxury soap or perfume. 

Your father is the one who suggests you all go golfing. You don’t know how to play, and neither does your mother, but you recognize it’s his attempt at connecting with who he thinks is your boyfriend, so you accept. You’re not sure if Michael Kaiser knows how to play golf, or really anything besides soccer, but he is game enough to come that you suppose he must.

It’s warm out, the sun beating down on your father’s brow as he lines up the ball with his club. Michael Kaiser stands on his left, and you think he’s somehow beautiful in this lighting. Not beautiful how your many attractive coworkers are, but in a manner which is distinctly him and therefore utterly irreproducible. His body is lean and graceful, his hair shaggy and gold, though he’s dyed the tips blue in what you’re sure is a statement. The shade matches his eyes, and also the inked roses on his neck. You have long ago come to the conclusion that the flowers are also a part of that same statement, but you have yet to discover what that statement might be. 

“He’s an improvement from that last boyfriend of yours,” your mother says, leaning back so that she can pour the last few drops of soda from her empty can into her throat. You and her are sitting together in the golf cart, seeking refuge in the shade of its plastic roof, sharing the drinks that your father had bought for himself and forgotten about the instant he stepped onto the golf course.

“He is,” you say. That’s not an exaggeration, nor is it something incredible. Your last boyfriend was an old classmate of yours who loved your celebrity more than he loved you. Michael Kaiser doesn’t love you, either, but he is honest about it, and you do not love him back, so there is no resentment between you and him.

“I like the way he looks at you,” your mother says. There’s a hiss as she opens a new can of soda. It’s a vice, but whenever you remind her of it, she dismisses you. She wants to have fun while she’s on this earth, apparently. Maybe drinking five cans of soda in one sitting means her life will be shorter, but life without soda isn’t worth living anyways, or something like that. The reasoning is stupid, but you know she is loyal to it, so you have to accept it. “It’s refreshing. So gentle. You’ll be talking to someone else, and he’ll just be staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re his.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you say. 

Your mother is about to say something else, but she is interrupted by a loud whoop. Michael Kaiser has hit a hole-in-one, and before you can tell him to stop embarrassing himself, your father is cheering, throwing his arms around him and calling him son.

“Your father likes him, too,” your mother said. 

“Oh, he needs to stop that! I can’t believe he’s making things so awkward,” you say, getting up to reprimand him before realizing that there is an entirely foreign sheen to Michael Kaiser’s eyes as he rests his chin on your father’s shoulder. He is not quite smiling, but it is a close approximation of the expression, and when your father ruffles his hair and says that it may have been beginner’s luck but he’s proud regardless, the curve of his lips becomes deeper.

You don’t understand, but you don’t need to. You may have facilitated it, but the moment belongs to him, and your presence is as unwanted as it is unnecessary.

You sit back down and take a sip of your mother’s soda. She grins knowingly and says that you look like you are in love, too. You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so you hum noncommittally and say that you might be.

You are growing fond of Michael Kaiser. It isn’t a slow realization — actually, it hits you very suddenly one day. He hands you a bouquet of flowers before opening the passenger door of his car for you. You ask him why he’s brought you peonies instead of roses, and he says it’s because he despises roses. It’s such an absurd answer and he says it with such a straight face that you have to cough in order to disguise your choked laughter. 

“Those must be some other kind of flower, then,” you say, pointing at but not touching his tattoos, at the delicate petals which fold over his pulse, azure and bright and silky. 

“No, those are roses,” he says, his knuckles growing white on the steering wheel. Normally, you wouldn’t ask further, but today you want to prod at his bruise of an existence, so you turn the music down and hug the peonies to your chest.

“But you despise roses,” you say.

“It’s a good reminder,” he says. “No flower lies quite as well as a rose does.”

That is when you are certain that you are partial to him. It is an unavoidable fact and also a treacherous one, but true notwithstanding. 

You put the peonies in a vase of water when you get home that night and hope they never die, although you know that they will be gone within the week. It’s how time works. The peonies will die and you two will break up and you’ll have nothing but a bare kitchen counter and thoughts of his intricacies to remember him by. 

There are no paparazzi around on the night when he wraps your hands around his throat. You are alone with him, sequestered away in the living room of his mansion, a bowl of popcorn shoved between the two of you while a movie plays in the background. This seclusion defeats the original purpose of the relationship entirely, but you sense that that original purpose is no longer fully applicable, so you do not refuse when he calls you and demands you come.

There’s a blanket tossed over your legs, the brilliant colors of his soccer club’s emblem faded from repeated washes. It’s warm, and if you were not busily eating most of the popcorn, you’d pull it up around your shoulders. As for Michael Kaiser, he’s facing the screen, his hair tied back in a knot, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and reflecting the visage of the lead actress as she laughs. You observe him as you snack. You’ve seen this movie before and didn’t really like it, so you’re not missing much. He’s more interesting by far.

“I know that woman,” you say, so that he has to acknowledge you.

“Hm,” he says.

“She’s a jerk,” you say. 

“Sounds like your kind of company,” he says. You scoff, because he’s not wrong. He keeps watching the movie, and you keep watching him, until a thought occurs to you.

“Can I call you Michael? Even when it’s just us two,” you ask. He purses his lips. The actress screams. Her character has just died, but the scene is poorly shot and even more poorly acted, so it’s not as heart-wrenching as it should be. You would’ve done better, but your agent doesn’t want you taking any gory roles, and your manager agrees. In his professional opinion, it’ll ruin the doll-like persona you’ve spent so long cultivating. He’s probably right. It’s hard to adore a doll once you’ve watched it die so gruesomely.

“You can do whatever you want,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, swallowing another mouthful of popcorn, the salt lingering on your tongue long after the popcorn itself is gone. “Michael.”

“Yes?” he says.

“Nothing,” you say. “I just wanted to say your name.”

“Okay,” he says. “Y/N?”

He’s never called you that in private. Of course, when you’re out and about, he must refer to you with such familiarity, but in private you’ve never been anything but Miss L/N. It’s a change but a good one. You don’t want to ever be Miss L/N again. Not to him.

“Yes?” you say.

“I’m trying to watch this movie,” he says. “It has high ratings, so be quiet and allow me to finish.”

“It’s shitty,” you say, yawning and leaning back against the mountain of pillows you’ve created for yourself. “Overly gratuitous with its use of fake blood.”

“Right, because that’s a cardinal sin,” he says dryly.

“Sorry, but it’s hard to enjoy films when you know how they’re made,” you say. He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You blink, because that’s about the last thing you expected from him. Then he turns the TV off entirely and you realize you’ll probably never be able to predict what he does next, so you should stop trying already.

“I know how movies are made,” he says.

“Did you have a secret acting career you never told me about?” you say. It’s a joke, but you also wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. He’s taken to performing like a fish takes to water, and every day you tell him he should quit soccer and devote his life to cinema because of this uncanny skill.

“Not me, but my mother was an actress, and my father was a director,” he says. 

“Was?” you say.

“Maybe they still are,” he says. “I don’t know. We’re not on speaking terms.”

“Why not?” you say. He takes your hands in between his, and you can make out immediately that his instinct is to hurt you, to press his fingertips into your wrists so hard that they leave marks. It’s to his credit that he fights back the urge, fights it back and arranges your palms against his carotid arteries. His jaw clenches and his pupils dilate as he waits for you to realize; when you do, you rip your hands away for fear of wounding him further.

“Don’t pity me,” he instructs you, unpausing the movie like nothing happened. “And don’t ever bring it up again.” 

Now that you have his permission to refer to him only by his name, you develop a strange fascination with saying it. He’s amused by your new fixation, answering you in a lilting tone every time you call for him.

According to him, you are like a small nightingale, always warbling, always happy, fluttering around beside him and changing his mood for the better. Well, if you are like a nightingale, then he is like a dog, and you tell him as much when you are sitting across from him at a coffee shop.

“A dog?” he repeats, his face pinching. He’s just taken a swig of the black coffee he always orders, but you know his disgusted expression isn’t a symptom of the beverage’s bitterness. “Take that back.”

“Not in a bad way,” you say. Your own drink is sweet, so you sip on it slowly to prevent a stomach ache. “I’m not calling you pathetic. I just mean that you are amiable and lively. It’s a compliment.”

“It’s not who I really am,” he says. “Have I deceived even you? Amiable? Lively? Remember why this entire scam began in the first place — because I am neither of those things.”

“Right,” you say. “A peacock, then. Terribly vain and entirely alluring.”

He relaxes and raises his cup to his mouth again. He’ll be up late tonight, he always is when he has coffee, but it never stops him from drinking it. “That’s better.”

The reminder that whatever you have with him is not real stings more than it should. You throw away your drink almost untouched, which does cause him to raise an eyebrow, but thankfully he refrains from commenting. It’s a relief, because you don’t even know how to explain it to yourself, let alone him.

He walks you to your front porch and waits with crossed arms as you fish for the key in your purse, shoving it in the lock once you have it in your grasp. His farewell when you open the door is stilted and abnormal, so you stop him with a hand on his arm before he can go.

“Michael,” you say. You’ve never said his name like this before. It comes from a place raw and deep within you, a place that you are certain is purple and black like a wound. You say it like you love him, and you think it must be because you do.

“Yes?” he says. It’s the way he always responds to you, his voice like a song, a small smile on his ordinarily strict face — though today, he is not smiling. Instead, he is frowning, like he has come to an understanding that he would have rather not reached.

“Never mind,” you say. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he says. He drives away, his car disappearing around the corner, leaving you standing alone in the still-open doorway and wondering how you will survive the day when he disappears permanently. 

You’re not sure what it is about him that makes pretending difficult, but suddenly, it’s a struggle for you to maintain your aloof front. You find it disconcerting, that he has taken this aspect of your identity and rendered it entirely null and void; it’s even more disconcerting that he has done it unwittingly and unsympathetically. If you loved him any less, you would hate him, because he has stolen who you are and left you blind and fumbling, but you fell for him, and the way you landed broke something fundamental, so that it is impossible for you to get back up. 

“I think that I love you,” you say. You are on his couch again, and there is a movie playing again, which is all too similar to a past scenario that you think about when you are lonely. Tonight, it’s some soccer documentary that you find so tedious you are driven to irrationality. 

He drops the glass of water in his hands; you reach out and catch it before it can spill, setting it on the table in front of you. 

“What?” he says. You shrug.

“I love you,” you say again, and you’re flippant about it because you’re not telling him in the hopes he loves you, too. In fact, you know that he does not, so you are using him as a confessional; after all, the minimum he owes you is sharing the burden of this sin.

“There’s no one around,” he says. “You don’t have to lie. It won’t gain us anything.”

“It hasn’t gained us anything in a long while,” you say. It’s true — your relationship isn’t trending anymore, and most of your dates are in locations where you will not be recognized. 

He stands up. The documentary continues as he paces, and a referee blows a whistle while he tangles his fingers in his hair and pulls. You stay on the couch, your eyes following his erratic movements, your hands folded in your lap.

“No, you don’t,” he says.

“I don’t what?” you say.

“You don’t love me,” he says. He wants to sound callous, you are sure of it, but the effect is lost on you. He sounds more lost than anything.

“But I do,” you respond. “Who are you to tell me I don’t?”

“Don’t,” he says. “Stop it. This instant.”

You laugh incredulously. “Do you think it’s that easy? I wouldn’t feel like this in the first place if it was.”

“Why?” he says. He’s still pacing. It’s like watching a tiger in a zoo. You want to study him, but he demands your attention in a different way. “Y/N. Why me? Why at all?”

“The reasons don’t matter, do they? I can tell you, but they won’t change anything,” you say, shrugging. “If you find yourself in the kitchen, bring water back for me. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink mine,” he says, pointing at the cup you had narrowly saved from disaster. “And quit your avoidance. Tell it to me plainly. Why?”

“Because you are you,” you say once you have drained half of his glass and your tongue is not quite as papery. “It’s a series of things; there’s not just one concrete reason. You hate roses and only drink black coffee. My mother thinks you’re handsome and my father is convinced you’re a golfing genius. You are a dog but also a peacock and then again an emperor. Don’t ask ridiculous questions and expect me to answer them when I cannot.”

“I’ll hurt you,” he says. “I’ll hurt you, Y/N, and I don’t — I don’t want to. You’re the only one who I don’t want to hurt, so just give up. It’s for the better if you do.”

“You won’t,” you say. “I don’t think you can.”

“Of course I can,” he says. “It’s the one thing I’m capable of. The only way I know how to love someone is by hurting them. I’ll do the same to you if you let me, and if you’re telling the truth, then you will let me.”

“Because I love you?” you say. “You think I’ll let you hurt me because I love you? For shame, Michael. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Please,” he says. It’s a word he’s never said, not to you and not in his life. Its weight hangs before you, pulsating in the air like it’s tangible. “If I love you, I’ll destroy you. And then you’ll leave, and it’ll destroy me.”

It’s a selfless desire that he’s disguising as a selfish one. You’re good at pretending, but you’re not good at telling when others are. That much is obvious, because if you had any talent at the latter then you would’ve seen that he’s loved you for as long as you have loved him, maybe longer. He loves you and so he’s urging you to flee, to destroy him before he can do it to you first.

“Damned if I do and damned if I don’t, huh?” you say, exhaling and finishing off the rest of his water. “Listen to me.”

“No,” he says. His obstinance is endearing, but you throw a pillow at him instead of cooing like you want to. He catches it and tosses it back. It lands beside you with a thump. You pat it for emphasis.

“Yes,” you say. “I love you.”

He plugs his ears with his fingers. “Nope.”

“I love you, I love you — hey, I know you can hear me!” you say.

“La la la,” he shouts over your voice, sticking his tongue out petulantly. “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you!”

“You’re cruel,” you say. “I won’t deny it. I know who you really are, Michael Kaiser. You possess cruelty in spades, but it’s in the way that a rose does. You have grown malice like thorns so that no one may come near your heart, and you think these thorns will tear me apart when I extend my hand past them. What you aren’t accounting for is that I have done so already. I have reached your heart and still I am intact. Now, what is there to cause me harm — a mere flower? But a flower can’t cause anyone harm, least of all a person such as myself. You can’t, or more importantly you won’t. I believe that you won’t.”

He stares at you. The soccer team in the documentary still playing behind him scores, and the crowd roars in approval. You stare back at him and wait.

“I hate roses,” he finally says. “I hate them a lot. They’re the worst kind of flower.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “I quite fancy them.”

“They prick your fingers,” he says.

“Not if you are gentle,” you say. “Not if you understand them.”

He buries his face in his hands. “Go home, Y/N.”

You do as you are told, flagging a taxi and shivering while you wait for it. You wish for things to be different, but the amount of unfulfilled wishes you’ve made outnumber the stars in the sky, so you add this one to the list and vow to move on.

You have no desire to leave your bed the next morning, but you are also hungry, and your hunger wins out over your despair. You muster up the energy to roll out of your sheets and trudge downstairs, but you are miserable as you do so. You are utterly miserable, and the fact that you are only worsens the feeling, trapping you in an endless kind of loop.

When you enter your kitchen, you are surprised to see a pot of flowers sitting innocently on your counter. You didn’t put them there, so you should feel afraid, but they’re roses, and they’re the same arresting shade as the sky, so you don’t. You only grin, slowly and then all at once as you begin to giggle helplessly.

There isn’t a card or an explanation provided, but you don’t need either. You already know who they are from.

[doublel27]

I’ve been thinking about Moo’s very publicly r video essay ever since @petrichoraline and I were talking about Moo’s very public declaration of his relationship here and the irony is if no one had said anything to Moo there’s a chance he wouldn’t have done anything.

In episode 8, Neth and Kang had already convinced him he might need to be quiet about their relationship. Kang and Moo agreed that “as long as we know” it doesn’t matter what other people do or don’t know.

And I think it was even worse for Moo because the dance video wasn’t a declaration of anything. That’s what he states before making the Kang fan edit. The video he was asked to delete was simply just boys dancing. And as an idol, he’s gonna be dancing on stage with a lot of boys. He’s probably already posted clips with Tae and Yos as well.

And sure it’s different because Kang isn’t also out here trying to be a dancer and he is Moo’s boyfriend. But a lot of what he was being asked to tone down were things that were what Moo considers normal. And I think that’s what made him so angry when everyone asked him to take the video down. Shone and Moo’s mom didn’t know they were boyfriends from that clip. To Moo’s point that wasn’t an announcement.

And as @luthienmpl points out here it’s not like Moo didn’t very publicly court Kang at school where everyone knows he’s written Kang a song and sang it over the intercom and gave away food for people who congratulated them on being boyfriends. There’s information out there.

Moo got mad at the idea he would have to lie. And everyone was insisting they weren’t asking him to lie, but to not share. To Moo, who if the thought is in his head it’s out of his mouth, omitting facts, deleting posts because of how someone might interpret it even if it’s not explicit what the video is of, to cut parts of himself off, well that’s a lie. After being pushed too far by the repeated requests by others to be less, he snapped with the very loud video of l not only do I have a boyfriend but let me tell you all about him and why he’s perfect.

With the preview showing that the contract is going to say expressly no relationships and Moo’s determination to not lie and Kang being the bluest boy (who tend to be martyrs….I am very curious where Only Boo is going with this story. As I am curious where Thame Po will take this story as they’re doing a similar line.

Another show with a similar storyline from GMM, Be My Favorite just dropped in 2023 and I adored it, but they took a particular stance on this conundrum. You should watch it, but spoilers…in one of the futures Kawi makes for himself, he ends up an idol and is at first delighted to find himself living what he thought was an impossible dream. But it’s quickly clear that he is miserable, drinking. He had gotten his dream girl Pear, but she left him because he wouldn’t marry her and start a family. As an idol, he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, give her the time, attention, and public commitment she was looking for. We also find out that Piesang disappeared around the same time. It’s heavily implied after Kawi chases Piesang and kisses him drunkenly, that Kawi probably did something similar after Pear left as Piesang says “You cannot keep doing this.” (They’d had a similar moment in episode six but this made it feel like we had a bigger pattern and explained his absence)

In the final future, Kawi is happily a songwriter, making songs for other people to sing. It’s the future Kawi chose knowing where the idol path sent him. Piesang even questions him on it. He asks Kawi if he gave up on those dreams because of Piesang and Piesang offers to hide if that’s what it takes. Kawi, thanks to the power of time travel, tells Piesang he’s absolutely certain he couldn’t be happier if he traveled that path. Only misery lies that way. Kawi’s whole lesson though is about making choices in the moment that spark joy rather than letting fear or jealousy lead your choices and living a life that makes you truly happy.

Only Boo, of course, is a very different show with a very different lead. Moo is 1000 times more confident and certain than Kawi ever could hope to be. He knows what he wants and while everyone sees them as two disparate pictures, Moo sees them fully integrated. He’s also a much younger character, just out of high school and has yet to face the reality of what it means to be an idol beyond getting to do the things he loves most and feels confident about.

Thame-Po will take us somewhere entirely different with an idol at the peak of their game who signed their right to a personal life away at a much younger age.

So when confronted with a contract that explicitly says you cannot date and Moo, who has no interest in lies of omission or hiding his boyfriend, and is in fact highly reactionary to people insisting he delete rather innocuous posts incase someone wants to speculate…I am very interested in the choices that will get written in here.

It is especially interesting considering the the litany of drama that has come out of highly entitled fan reactions to social media posts and in some cases leaked videos of Thai artists in their own home. Sure, everyone is trying to “protect” Moo in theory, but entitled fans will be entitled whether you hide your personal life entirely or not. These types of fans seem to exist across fandoms of many types and with a level of wild inappropriateness regardless of how open or closed a celebrity is to others. If they post too much with someone that’s a sign. If they avoid posting with someone that’s a sign. Like…there’s no winning.

And to that point, what is the takeaway going to be for Moo as he is faced with a moral dilemma and the two things he wants most in conflict? And what is the messaging going to be from Only Boo/GMM about young idols and talent (as the two leads of this show are) and their rights to their own lives? And are we gonna talk about the extra layer of homophobia of it all or because the fact that even straight relationships seem to be a PR nightmare for some talent, that GMM/Only Boo is content to leave it ambiguous for now?

[kyeomkuppie]

Seungcheol as a K-drama

I feel like Seungcheol is just so Yoo Shi-jin. He's a very serious person when it comes to his career, but he's also pretty playful. He likes to let his inner child out especially with his partner and close friends. When or if his partner is in danger, he'd be a totally different person, he'd rather risk his whole being than see his partner in danger, and I think that's pretty apparen, especially seeing how much he cares about his members.

As previously mentioned, he's pretty playful, he'd like to tease his partner just to see her annoyed expression which he finds adorable but also without crossing the line.

Captain Yoo is the type of character which you can't call "too serious" or "too playful" he knows exactly when to be a leader and when to be the laid-back guy who you could talk to about your problems at a random pub while laughing your ass off.

He's pretty reliable but also someone you could joke around with and I just think that's so Cheol. He's a great leader— a very great one who always thinks about his members. He knows how to navigate difficult situations, without making the atmosphere too heavy or too stressful for the people around him.

But as a result, things get too heavy for him to carry alone, so I think he'd need someone equally reliable so they'd have a perfectly balanced relationship.

In the drama, both the captain and the doctor are mature characters with a secretly playful side, which plays into the harmony between their personalities despite being different but also having a few similarities that just make them click.

I think Cheol would need someone who'd indulge him. Now, I know this sounds weird but I think he'd need someone he could be a little kid with, someone who would immediately let out his inner child. When he's sulky, he'd want someone who'd indulge that sulkiness, to pamper him with kisses and lots of "I love you"s.

He's basically the perfect balance between serious and childish. It's honestly fascinating how he could have a whole 180 when it comes to the people he loves.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[sisterofficerlucychen]

now that i saw you (i can never look away) - chapter 4 sneak peek

She can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s at battle with what he wants versus what he thinks he believes — right versus wrong. It’s a similar path she found herself not too long ago, one where she kept trying to convince herself that it was all in her head because she couldn't allow herself to think of him in that way. Except that's exactly how she'd been thinking of him, the realization washing over her that he's so much more than she's ever allowed herself to admit. How continuing to deny it and bury her feelings was absolutely futile. She has about an hour more on him of sorting through all these different emotions where he's seemingly trying to work through them all while finding out what it's like to give into what they've both been blind to. He holds her gaze, searching for an answer Lucy knows she won't be able to give because she's not about to be the sensible one here. Armed now with the knowledge of his touch and taste, she knows she's doesn't have the willpower to stop; and perhaps more importantly, she's certain that there's nothing more she's ever wanted to see through. “We shouldn’t,” he finally speaks but she can tell how much he doesn’t mean it. He’s trying to use logic and reason but it's far too easy to see just how gone he is too. His pupils are blown, lips swollen as remnants of her perfect red lipstick have transferred onto him that she has to bite back a smirk because despite the mess, it makes him that much more hotter. He says it again, a softer whisper this time, and she's not sure who of the two he's trying to convince. Her eyes soften as she meets his stare once again, watching how he continues to search for affirmation of how bad of an idea this is. Because it is, there are so many reasons for them to stop, to call this a judgement of error, and never speak about it again. But when are things that simple? “So we don't,” she whispers. It's the only answer she's able to give that's remotely along the lines of what he's looking for despite there being absolutely nothing in her tone that actually implies this, drawing closer to him instead as an arm wraps over his shoulder. “We stop then,” he repeats as his words don’t quite match his actions either, hand sprawling over the small of her back tightening his hold. “We’re stopping,” she echoes, her lips a feathered touch against his, just shy from closing the gap between them again. “Stopping ..."  She doesn’t hear it but she feels it, his breath warm, how his lips move to form the words against hers before they’re kissing once again with the same rush as before.

[narcoleptic-assassin]

Maximus Has C-PTSD

I’m surprised no one else has talked about this yet so I’ll just jump in and give my thoughts. Grabbing a snippet directly from wiki, it reads:

“The diagnosis of PTSD was originally developed for adults who had suffered from a single-event trauma. However, the situation for many children is quite different. Children can suffer chronic trauma such as maltreatment, family violence, dysfunction, or a disruption in attachment to their primary caregiver. In many cases, it is the child's caregiver who causes the trauma. The diagnosis of PTSD does not take into account how the developmental stages of children may affect their symptoms and how trauma can affect a child's development…

“Repeated traumatization during childhood leads to symptoms that differ from those described for PTSD.”

So what is the difference between PTSD and CPTSD? Let’s look at the seven behavioral clusters described.

• Attachment – “problems with relationship boundaries, lack of trust, social isolation, difficulty perceiving and responding to others' emotional states”

• Biomedical symptoms – “sensory-motor developmental dysfunction, sensory-integration difficulties; increased medical problems or even somatization”

• Affect or emotional regulation – “poor affect regulation, difficulty identifying and expressing emotions and internal states, and difficulties communicating needs, wants, and wishes”

• Elements of dissociation – “amnesia, depersonalization, discrete states of consciousness with discrete memories, affect, and functioning, and impaired memory for state-based events”

• Behavioral control – “problems with impulse control, aggression, pathological self-soothing”

• Cognition – “difficulty regulating attention; problems with a variety of 'executive functions' such as planning, judgment, initiation, use of materials, and self-monitoring; difficulty processing new information; difficulty focusing and completing tasks; poor object constancy; problems with 'cause-effect' thinking; and language developmental problems such as a gap between receptive and expressive communication abilities.”

• Self-concept – “fragmented and disconnected autobiographical narrative, disturbed body image, low self-esteem, excessive shame, and negative internal working models of self”

There are also some similarities to regular ptsd such as reliving traumatic events (although more so in rumative occupation rather than the classic war flashbacks you see in media), insomnia, hypervigilance, and of course depression and anxiety.

People with CPTSD also sometimes have an obsession with their abuser, being preoccupied with thoughts of revenge, or having an idealized or paradoxical gratitude towards them, and acceptance of a perpetrator's belief system or rationalizations.

At a very young age, Maximus lost everything he loved and knew, only then to be snatched up by a fascist organization and revictimized over and over again. He was beaten regularly, by his peers and teachers, constantly derided and humiliated, and given the most menial and disgusting tasks. That’s what we know just looking at the very surface. Who the hell knows what else went on that we the viewers haven’t seen. He’s a perfect candidate for such a disorder.

If that’s not enough for you, let’s go through the above listed behaviors.

Maximus is repeatedly shown to be inexperienced and awkward in social interactions. He either gives too much, or too little, like when he came clean to Thaddeus way too soon, or how he repeatedly lied to Lucy. This also displays his general mistrust. When he saw all the vault 4 dwellers being nice and happy for apparently no reason, this immediately seemed wrong to him, and he labeled it a cult. However, when Birdie gave him a home and food, he latched on to it like a dying man. He craves attachment, longs for it so badly that he falls into this vicious cycle of reaching out, getting hurt, then becoming mistrustful and dishonest. I could write a whole essay on Maximus’ attachment issues, but I’ll move on.

We don’t exactly see any biomedical symptoms with him, but who knows. Maybe there’s something going on internally that we just haven’t seen yet.

With affect and emotional regulation, Maximus has several emotional outbursts during the season, the first when he breaks the toilet after hearing that Dane got promoted and he didn’t, and the second in the very next scene with him during his interrogation. He obviously feels immensely guilty for wishing harm upon his only friend, and panics when asked about it. Whether he did it or not, to him it probably feels like he might as well have just put the razor in the boot himself. Then when Quintus spares his life and even promotes him, he cries in relief and joy. There’s also the other side of this, where he often shows little emotion and remains stoic even when those around him are obviously upset, such as with the fiends on the bridge. He hides behind an expressionless mask, because it’s the most safe, the most neutral option. He was probably punished for expressing himself when he was younger, and now in adulthood, it’s become habit. The only time we see the mask come down, is briefly and usually when he’s alone.

Maximus doesn’t seem to have dissociative symptoms or amnesia, but we know very little of his backstory. At times he may dissociate in response to situations, but that’s a very internal thing, and Max as a character is already quite stoic and aloof. It’s hard to gauge his mental state.

Impulse control is not our guy’s strong suit. He is a slave to his desires as one might say. He almost takes vault 4s fusion core without hesitation until Birdie stops him. When he sees Lucy in trouble he jumps to action (although most people probably would in a similar situation) then attacks the residents almost immediately without stopping for a moment to read the room. He also panics several times and acts quite impulsively. He ripped out the radio in the suit, which with just a little thought he probably would have realized wouldn’t help. (Then again he was probably heavily concussed at this point so you have to give him a break lol) Then when Thaddeus responded negatively to him revealing himself, this immediately sends him into fight or flight mode, and he’s been taught by the Brotherhood to respond to threats with violence.

For cognition, I feel like I could just copy and paste it here again lol. I could go through all the times he’s not thought things through, or done something poorly planned, but come on, you watched the show didn’t you? And this goes right along with impulse control as well. In the class scene, he’s shown not to be a particularly good student, this could be due to a short attention span, or difficulty focusing. Or it could even be due to a lack of object recognition and consistency, which is defined as the ability to recognize an object across varying viewing conditions. These executive dysfunctions are similar to those displayed in ADHD and ASD. There may even be an overall lack of motivation, but as you can see in the first scene with power armor, he shows more knowledge about them than his peers. He’s more than willing to learn about something that interests him, but you’ll know if you have ADHD, it is much harder learning about or doing things you’re not interested in.

Finally, there’s his self image. He goes through most of the show masquerading as someone else entirely, and even says to Lucy at one point that he doesn’t think he’s a good person. He’s ashamed of his own body, thinking that sexual arousal is disgusting, and has shame surrounding those feelings. I think he even blames himself for what happened to Dane because he had intrusive thoughts about it happening, which is why he may have had trouble telling Quintus that he didn’t do it. Maybe he even thought he deserved to be punished.

There’s also his relationship with his abusers. In his mind, there is only one perpetrator, the person who blew up Shady Sands, but in reality there’s two. For the person who destroyed his home, he’s consumed with a vague but obsessive goal of revenge even years later into adulthood. But for the Brotherhood, they are his saviors. He owes them his life, and repeatedly goes back to the memory of stepping out of the fridge and seeing this gleaming suit of armor standing tall among the wreckage of his home. He bought in wholesale to their ideology, taking it literally, even too literally. He betrays his own knight, going over him to stay loyal to the Brotherhood overall. I’ve seen other people mention this, but I don’t remember who now unfortunately. Honestly, I’m so grateful to them because I hadn’t thought of this before.

There is so much more I could say about Max and his symptoms of trauma, but a lot of it is still floating around my head in a messy abstract clutter. This is all I’ve got right now. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk!

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

I have been reading your work for years now (living for the CYOA updates, truly), and I just need you to know what an impact your Lily has had on me.

I've noticed in multiple of your fics (Shelf-Awareness, CYOA, AOOUC, etc), Lily is this high-achieving person who reaches what "success" should be in her career, only to realize she's really unhappy with her work/life balance. And then she chooses something that is less conventionally seen as "successful", but it makes her happier and she has the time to devote to her passions & her family & friends (and she's still so good at her new path!). And it's so obviously the right choice for her and she's still the same wonderful and witty person (read it and weep, Kit) despite having chosen a different career path.

I just need to tell you how much comfort that has brought me. I, too, was a "high-achiever," but my high aspiring career goals didn't work out the way I thought they would, primarily because I realized I just don't value working all the time. But I've had the hardest time shaking that feeling that I'm a failure or that I'm 'not enough' because I'm not living up to some imaginary potential that I gave myself. But then I read your fic, and I feel better knowing that someone like your Lily could choose to walk away from her law career and still be this character that I absolutely adore; I actually get so proud of her for making that choice when you write her making it. I read your fic and love your Lily and feel proud of her choices and then lambast myself for making a similar choice??? That makes no sense! I'm being Kit, but TO MYSELF. Genuinely, the number of times I've been in a spiral and found comfort in the idea that your Lily is still valuable and good and brilliant after walking away from "The" career... innumerable.

So. Thank you for writing her. Truly, from the bottom of my heart. Her journey in CYOA in particular has meant so much to me.

Hey, this response is not going to be nearly as long as you deserve but I wanted to let you know that I read this ask right after I'd finished crying because I was feeling so ill and super anxious about it, and it was the nicest boost I could have asked for. I am so so so glad to have done you some small bit of good with my writing and I remain flabbergasted that it's something I'm even able to do. I genuinely think it's a real shame that we rarelyl see narratives in popular media around a character being brave enough to walk away from the thing they worked so hard for once they realise that it's not what they wanted it to be. I think we're sold the "work hard and achieve and your dreams will come true" dream too often, and that a lot of people feel trapped in gilded cages of their own making. Lily felt like the perfect character to explore that with, and the fact that it means something to you that I wrote it makes me feel happy and fulfilled beyond belief. So thank you for sending this to me, it means more to me than I can properly express, and I hope that you're having a truly wonderful week.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

extremely long essay-adjacent post about female representation in the captive prince

capri is interesting bc i dislike the lack of female characters, but knowing the way that people are treated in vere and akielos, i kinda feel relieved that we don’t see many women.

like idk, gender stuff is complicated. it is a double standard, that seeing female characters in the same positions as the men in these books would just feel different. given how women have been treated and continue to be treated in real life society, it’s almost escapist fantasy within itself to see this world where we don’t have to really look too hard at women being abused and oppressed. and in addition to real life, we get that in plenty of fiction already, written mostly by men, often in a way that feels condescending or fetishizing.

capri’s male-dominated cast comes at the expense of really seeing women on the page, but the few female characters do seem to be intentionally written in positions that don’t feel disempowering or misogynistic. vannes holds her position of authority through similar means to the powerful men, and she’s just as morally questionable as the rest—no exceptions are made. jokaste is authoritative simply by her characterization, and uses her femininity in as a tool to put herself in higher stations. like, that woman has a uterus and she knows how to use it to her advantage. and then there’s the vaskian women, like this entirely separate matriarchal warrior society, and we really only get a peek into whatever the hell they have going on.

we know, logically, that there are plenty of female slaves and pets and prostitutes, almost undoubtedly abused and undervalued wives of men in the nobility. the regent's court is male-dominated by choice. kastor, i would bet, is similarly misogynistic. the male characters we follow are explicit misogynists, gay and disinterested in women, or like legally forbidden from any heterosexual romance they might want to have. gender roles and sexual taboos run deep in this world. we know that women are out there, suffering, just like damen and erasmus and laurent. but pacat shows us women who are not suffering instead. and that, to me, is something.

but like, i think the instance of womanhood that’s most interesting to me in the series is actually the absence of it in laurent and damen’s lives. the characters and story we follow are so steeped in masculinity and patriarchy—but there are women in this world. they are up to things, and i think pacat has given their existence thought. i can't know her intentions for sure, but i sense that she might have made them absent in our protagonist’s lives for a reason.

becauseeeee who is the person to finally Beat the regent? a female character who you are meant to ignore, who appears to be a random bystander, but reveals herself to be mindful and caring. a woman who, just like damen and laurent in book 1, is relatively powerless in this society but left with very little to lose. loyse is the closest thing to like… a just kinda average woman we see in this entire series. she’s not partaking in the debauchery of veretian, akielion, or vaskian nobility. she’s not playing power games with her body or sexuality. she’s basically just, like, the normalest person in the room, full of people like fifteen feet deep in a pool of power struggles, sexual depravity, manipulation, politics, and war strategy. she has her head above water, at least after aimeric’s death. that isn’t a gendered quality by nature, and i hate the implication that women are more likely to be level-headed, good advocates or caretakers, etc… but i don’t think that’s what i’m trying to say here at all.

because loyse, like… isn’t a perfect mother. she either completely missed or knowingly enabled horrible things happening to her son because her husband wanted to social climb. i’m not sure if she knew, during aimeric’s childhood, exactly what was going on with guoin, the regent, and aimeric. it might say somewhere (i hope it does!) but my skimming yielded nothing. i think it would make the most sense if loyse only found out after aimeric’s death, like on the road with guion and the main characters. she clearly spoke to laurent about it at some point, and didn’t tell guion that she planned to testify against him. regardless of when she found out, she’s just over it all at the trial, and finally speaks her mind.

loyse being a woman doesn’t inherently make her more likely to be wise or compassionate than the main characters—but it’s more like, idk, being so far removed from the very male-centric story that we see, it allows a character like her to have the clarity to essentially defeat the final boss everyone else has been struggling to fight for three entire books. loyse really just said, “hi. fuck you all. my son is dead because my asshole husband made a ‘gentleman’s agreement’ with him as a bargaining chip. i’m not delusional, i know this is wrong, and im not going to shut up about it to appease this depraved and cowardly court. also the regent killed his brother, because i know you assholes don’t care about my son and never will.” and that is the first domino in the regent’s defeat.

so, like… what if damen and laurent had been written with loyses in their lives? women who weren’t there to have sex with them, in damen’s case? mothers and sisters and friends? what qualities could they have then developed in themselves, so much sooner than they do in the series?

if more of these characters were women—if more women were Involved In The Story, in general—would it have been as brutal or difficult as it was? could things have been better communicated, would social reform have happened sooner? would damen and laurent (especially laurent) have had the same experiences that so strongly define who they are? it’s a slippery slope to assign traits to gender, i know, but i think there is something to be said for the different ways men and women handle intellectual and emotional problems—especially if they’ve been socialized heavily based on their gender, which does seem to be the case for this world. if damen had a mother or a sister or a simply platonic female friend, do you think he would have more quickly realized some of his own ethical blind spots re: sex and consent? if laurent had a mother or sister or female friend, do you think he would have been protected from the regent, and given more opportunities to feel safe and unsexualized? if there were actual authoritative women in the venetian royal bloodline, would the regent have been able to take over, and make the court so male-dominated in the first place?

it’s like that meme, “x media (image of giant book), x media if character had a gun (very short book).” i think, fundamentally, that capri would not have been able to tell the same story if more female characters were involved. and to be clear—that is not an excuse to exclude female characters, because i fucking love female characters. it would almost certainly be a better series with more women thoughtfully involved, but the point is, it wouldn’t be the same. and i do admire that pacat seems to understand that there are differences between men and women, in many ways, and doesn’t just like… write a character she means to be a dude, and then genderswap. or write an character who’s in essence genderless, insert them into this very gendered society, and then spin a wheel to see what pronouns they use.

i’m not sure exactly what point i’m trying to make here, but i’ll leave two related excerpts for your consideration. actually, yes, i do know my point, and i’ll say it with conviction: simply thinking to put female characters in a story, does not make it a story with thoughtful female characters. and capri, as a series, is defined by its thoughtfulness to me. i cannot fully commit to the suggestion that its lack of female characters is inherently misogynistic, because i think that lack of female presence is a character within itself. and more than anything, it’s an ongoing flaw of fandoms in general, people in general, to either want women to be 1) absent, so they’re not in the way of the men’s stories or 2) simple and archetypical, to check a box for inclusion. but there are other options. i like those options more.

to truly want female representation in a misogynistic world is to want to see the complexity of womanhood, both in its presence and its absence. and i think if cs pacat ever decided to take on a female perspective, intentionally, as the main point of a piece of writing, it would be masterfully done. i would love to see her write women, but i want those women to truly be the main characters. and i never want to tell anyone what they should want to write about.

capri is what it is. and to its credit, i do believe that this series both considers and values the female perspective much more than the fandom seems to acknowledge. the real problem to me rests with fandom and the society it reflects, rather than the story or its author.

excerpt #1, from the summer palace by cs pacat, author of the captive prince series:

‘My mother planted these gardens,’ said Damen. His heart was pounding. ‘Do you like them? They’re ours now.’ Saying the word “ours” still felt daring. He could feel it mirrored in Laurent, the shy awkwardness of what was so dearly desired. ‘I like them,’ said Laurent. ‘I think they’re beautiful.’ Laurent’s fingers found his again, a small intimacy that had him overbrimming. ‘I don’t think about her often. Only when I come here.’ ‘You don’t take after her.’ ‘Oh?’ ‘Her statue in Ios is three feet tall.’ The corner of Damen’s mouth twitched. He knew the statue, on a plinth in the north hall. ‘There’s a statue of her here. Come and meet her.” It was part of the nonsense they were sharing, a whim, to show Laurent. He tugged; they came to an arched open garden. ‘I take it back, you’re just like her.’ Laurent said it looking up. The statue here was bigger. Damen was smiling; there was delight in seeing Laurent explore himself, a young man who was sweet, teasing, at times unexpectedly earnest. Having made the decision to let Damen in, Laurent had not gone back on it. When the walls went up, it was with Damen inside them. But when Laurent came to stand in front of the statue of his mother, the mood changed to something more serious, as if prince and statue were communicating with each other. Unlike in Patras, it wasn’t the custom in Akielos to paint statues. His mother Egeria looked out towards the sea with a marble face and marble eyes, even though she’d had dark hair and eyes like himself and his father. He saw her through Laurent’s eyes, the old-fashioned dress of marble, the curled hair, her high, classical brow and outraised arm. Damen realised that he didn’t know how tall his mother really was. He had never asked about it, and had never been told. Laurent made a formal Akielon gesture that matched his chiton and the gardens, but was different to his habitual Veretian manners. Damen felt his skin prickle with strangeness. It was part of Akielon courtship to seek permission from a parent. If things had been different, Damen might have knelt in the great hall in front of King Aleron, asking for the right to court his youngest son. It was not that way between them. All their family was dead. ‘I’ll take care of your son,’ said Laurent. ‘I’ll protect his kingdom as if it were my own. I’ll give my life for his people.’ Above them, the sun was high and bright, and encouraged a retreat to the shade line. The boughs of the trees around them were heavy with scent. Laurent said, ‘I won’t let him down. I promise you.’

and an excerpt from the captive prince fan wiki.

[verilydigital]

Came across a tweet earlier (courtesy of @/CircusB0nes) and… okay how have I not considered this ship before??👀

Yes yes, I know it’s not extremely non-canon, but hehehe their dynamic would be so entertaining!

The tweet that brought this to my attention:

Art by the iconic Tracy Butler

[uncanny-tranny]

How do I know if I'm bi?

So this might not be a helpful answer, but it is my genuine thought, and I want to be honest: You know you're bi if you find comfort, or happiness, or understanding of yourself in that label. It's not necessarily about split attraction to multiple genders.

Yes, bisexual people will often be attracted to more than one gender (not just man and woman, either! Many bisexual people aren't attracted to both binary genders because bisexuality is yet another complex and nuanced component of human sexuality, which in itself is inherently complex). Yes, many bisexual people express those attractions, and yes, many bisexual people share things in common. But frankly, not every bisexual is going to have similar experiences or thoughts or expressions of sexuality. My bisexuality is going to look different than yours might because I am a different human being. As such, I think it's less helpful to say "to be bisexual, you need to have these experiences," but it's more helpful to say, "if you find comfort in the bisexual label, use it"

The worst that happens with sexuality labels is you find one that matches better. I used to use the label pansexual when I was younger - the worst thing that happened was I stopped using it a year later when I felt it didn't accurately describe my feelings anymore.

If you suspect you're bi, there's likely a reason for that, and there's nothing wrong with you investigating that further. However, I don't want you to feel like you need to Prove Yourself to even use language that accurately describes your sexuality or sense of sexuality - no matter if that language is as simple as saying you're bisexual or not. Sexuality is an important aspect of identity for many folks, and you deserve the opportunity to make it as important or inconsequential as you want. Nobody is going to throw you in jail for not being bisexual or queer "enough." There's no law that says you have to have a 50/50 split attraction to binary men and women only to be bi. There's no bisexual card we hand out to you, saying you've been vetted as Bi Enough.

[micamicster]

Bruce Springsteen's eighth album TUNNEL OF LOVE as Penguin Classics (series): Tobias Verhaecht / Kerry James Marshall / Botticelli / Jusepe de Ribera / Caravaggio / Andrew Wyeth / Raphael / Essam Marouf / Rene Magritte / Raymond Bonilla / Theodore Gericault / Soren Martinsen

[hyperfixatedbean]

I personally love to see differences between the show and the books

It’s not just an exact adaptation, it change to follow a new public, new ideas from the author(s)

It’s not a carbon copy of the books, and that’s not what we need, if we want the books we read them, here it’s a little different, it’s new, and I like that, a lot

I love to rediscover the story that I grew up with, it’s the same and at the same time some things are different and it just feel great to discover without knowing exactly everything, being able to talk with my friend who never read the book, telling him what is different, what isn’t in the show or what wasn’t in the book

I just love the show and living all the emotions like I did the first time when I read the book

[dreamofbecoming]

thinking about a stoncy dynamic that’s not romantic or sexual or necessarily even platonic, but it used to be all or some of those things, and now it’s like they don’t know each other really at all anymore unless there’s danger, and then they immediately fall into perfect step with each other without even noticing

they don’t talk and they kinda avoid each other socially after they tried out every configuration of the three of them and none of them worked, but the minute a threat appears suddenly they’re flanking each other without having to discuss it. they fall into battle formation without even a glance. they always know where the other two are in a melee, they don’t have to check. it’s instinctive- stay equidistant, fan out, protect the party. one of them loses their weapon and one of the others throws them another, and they catch it and keep fighting. neither one looks, neither one breaks stride. they move around each other on reflex, like magnets.

just battle-hardened kids who are awkward as hell kids but also seasoned warriors who know each other down to their bones, but only in a fight.

something something the only place you fit in my life anymore is with your back pressed to mine and your weapon raised

[harvestmoth]

heres my one page thesis on why hinomori mafuyu real