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bnhamixjuice-sfw · 3 years

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ANON REQUEST: Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa: spot an ex he had a bad break up with, he sees her walking around struggling to hold on to a bag of groceries while pushing a stroller with a toddler in it that looks awful lot like them, and the he awkwardly confronts them when the bag falls out of her hands.

Tags: Manga Spoiler, Mention of cheating, Angst to Fluff.

Hawks

“I’m so sorry Dove, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean what? to deny that I’m your girlfriend in front of the media ‘cause you had a job agreement with the commission not to reveal me! okay Keigo you’re doing this for what reason exactly? Hero Reputation? More women you can use to cheat behind my back again and expect me to forgive you? I–I don’t want this kind of life anymore!”, you wailed in pure anguish roughly wriggling your wrist away from his firm clutch.

He felt suffocated when he needed to let you go for all the things that he did to hurt you, holding back the urge to chase you outside when you frantically closed the door, not looking back anymore on him. Leaving the top pro hero falling on his knees, lonely between these four walls of his house.

After all this time he can’t forget you, longing to see your face everywhere he goes even on pro hero awarding events or his usual patrol work with Endeavor looking for you through the crowds, praying to see your smile again that he misses the most.

His life was crumbling apart without you, but luck was on his side today when he spotted you not too far from where he was signing autographs for his fans while stealing some glances. As always, you’re still beautiful standing there.

Trying to fix your grocery bags while clasping the baby-carriage’s handle. He hesitated at first to approach you thinking you’re probably waiting for your husband to pick you up and your child. And that’s when a tuft of yellow hair popped out.

“Mommy look it’s Hawks, Awtoglaph pweasee awtoglapph”, his excited pleas reached Hawks’ ears. pointing his fingers towards your ex-boyfriend who waved a hand on both of you.

Soon red feathers clumped together on the ground, preventing your bag to fall.

“Wow what do we have here, a kid full of energy today, so where do you want me to sign your autograph?”, stooping down beaming a smile with his eyes crinkling behind his yellow visor making your child gasp in awe.

He knew instantly that his suspicion was right seemingly looking at his own reflection with those golden honey orbs and black lines on those eyelids and small bump protruding behind the kid’s shirt, red feathers similar to his, messily cramped inside.

“Ke–Hawks here… ”, almost calling out his first name when you handed him a notebook and a pen.

Slightly feeling his gloved hand against your palm.

“Hawks look I hab wings too–”

“Honey we need to go home now or else you’ll miss your favorite show again, now say bye bye to Mr. Hawks”, you interrupted, sneaking a warning glare on him not to tell him anything before gently freeing your child’s wings out from his shirt’s makeshift holes.

“Little fledgling I guess your wings were moulting, so did your Daddy tell you about it”

“Hab no Dawdy but Oh you see… Mommy Lov’ Dawdy so much that she booboo cries” you were shock-stricken softly hushing your child out of embarassment.

“Well kid make sure to tell your Mommy not to cry okay cause Daddy loves her so much, yes don’t forget to tell that to her every day I–”, he stammered with his voice started cracking, overwhelming him with emotions too easily, swallowing the lump forming on his throat.

“Your father loves you too kid trust me, and surely there’s not a single day he’s not thinking of your Mommy, his only Dove–Ah I think I’m taking too much of your time Miss I-I’m so sorry”, halting it immediately, muffling a few sniffles before finally signing his signature.

Your heart began thumping so loud, not expecting him shamelessly grabbing your hand, burying you into a warm embrace in public.

“Wait Keigo stop this, everyone’s taking so many pictures of you”

“No I don’t care anymore, listen Dove I’m so sorry and I still love you, come back to me please I promise I won’t hurt you again, I’ll do better this time just let me make up for it, and for our son”

You can’t blame yourself for giving in, accepting him wholeheartedly knowing this is what you promised to him once.

To never let your future child experience the same heartache he suffered from his past.

Dabi

He regret those cruel words that came out from his mouth the first time he was too fed up of your constant admonishment of putting a rest on his revenge against his family forever since you cannot bear to see him exhausting his body anymore, starting this heated discourse again between you.

“You always bring this up y/n every single day and it’s too annoying already, why are you siding on Enji too much Babydoll… come on just say it you really want us to have a perfect family, so cool to have a child with this debilitating quirk too right?”

Sucking your inner lips anxiously avoiding to tell him something about that last one, you felt his grip on your sholders constricting furiously waiting for you to answer him back, but your tears spilling from those precious eyes made his stomach churn in guilt realizing what he had done when you began screaming on his face that everything’s over, shoving him away and locking the door of your house shut.

He knew how much of a dick he was, the worst break up that’s been haunting him everyday with your terrified face forever etched on his mind

It’s been a long time since the last time he saw you after you moved from your old house and he cannot find you everywhere until today.

He saw you pushing a stroller on the side of the road and having a hard time balancing the bag of groceries on your other hand.

Perhaps you found someone better than him and additionally having a child; a normal child considering he’s not the father. that’s what he thought until something caught his attention.

Squinting his eyes, he was slack-jawed to find a familiar cerulean orbs and red hair on that young boy giddily calling you Mommy.

He took this rare chance of talking to you again by catching your bag of groceries that you clumsily dropped, your eyes met recognizing your ex-boyfriend instantly when he removed his mask. piercing eyes gazing down below observing your child’s similar features.

“Babydoll why didn’t you tell me about him, our son?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Dabi and refrain from calling me that nickname anymore, also stay away from MY son before I call the police”

You breathed heavily snatching back your grocery bag from his grasp, clutching the stroller’s handle in pure anger.

“Daddy you meanie, go home”, tugging his pants with those tiny hands.

It hurts you to see your own child begging for his father to go home, when you can’t even tell him how you often show his own picture to your child that’s why he recognized his own father easily, keeping him close to his heart and memory forever.

You can’t hate your only child’s father.

He was expecting him to cry on his intimidating face when he bent his knees down to look at his child closely, ignoring your earlier threat by patting his son’s head seemingly accepting this foreign fatherly instinct.

“Kid look I’m obviously a bad guy, I don’t want you to get in trouble so maybe next time when your Mommy allows me, don’t worry I’ll probably see you again next time pepperoni haired kid”, chuckling when he saw his son’s childish pout, letting him pinch his stapled cheeks annoyed at his nickname.

“Y/n this is goodbye then”, flashing you that thin smile noticing his lips quivering a bit as he stood.

Shoving both of his hands inside his pockets before turning around to walk slowly away from both of you ignoring your child’s tantrum cries calling for him to go back.

“Ssh… sweetie don’t cry okay–Wait Touya!”

He stopped on his tracks when you yelled his real name again, like how you used to call him that before out of endearment.

“We’re going to stay here from now on so same address, the usual okay knock thrice and use our anniversary day on pressing the doorbell and don’t forget our password, listen I’m doing this for our child only so you better show up tonight or I won’t ever give you a chance”

He disappeared quickly after that, and tonight he never failed to show up incessantly ringing the doorbell many times even greeting you that typical password; a kiss.

A yearning kiss, hands intertwining the moment you opened your heart once again.

Aizawa

“Shouta you keep missing my calls these past few weeks when I needed you the most, you barely have enough time to visit me when I was sick the whole week and now you’re late, fine I don’t wanna hear your excuses anymore”

Those bitter words pierced him like thorns, seeing you slip out that engagement ring from your finger and placing it on a table whispering those bitter words he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“It’s better if we end this relationship now before we regret something, I–I can’t imagine my future being married with you or even having a child with you who pathetically seek for time and attention from his workaholic father, sorry Shouta”, you covered your mouth trying to bite back your tongue from spilling about your unborn child.

Running outside the restaurant leaving him heartbroken that he can’t further speak out his words anymore because everything that you just told him was painfully true.

He doesn’t deserve you, blaming himself for not appreciating you enough despite of your effort of enduring the hardships of having a pro hero fiance who often risk his life for his students. A man who can’t even spend a time to take care of you.

Nevertheless, he wanted to mend back those strings that binds you to his heart, always pouring out his loneliness on visiting that Cat Cafe on his day off every week reminding him of memories you two share.

You often take him there to spend a date knowing he’s fond of cats and snapping lots of photos of him every time he ends up sleeping on the corner with cats huddling close to his face nearly suffocating him.

Keeping your engagement ring to him all the time was the only thing that calms him down whenever he’s in dire situation on his job, thinking how much he wish to meet you here again.

Unbelievably seeing you again one time, rubbing his weary eyes once and twice to know if it’s truly you. Indeed, he can’t forget that familiar caring smile of his beloved, finding you outside the cat cafe currently having a problem of organizing your bag of groceries.

“Mawmmy, neko pweasee I wanna touch it!”, your daughter began whinning clapping his hands to get your attention.

He can’t believe his own eyes when your child resembles him too much with that obsidian dull eyes and sleek black hair minus for that pigtail hairstyle but that scowl seems a carbon copy of his own.

“Wait Baby I–”

“I think you need help Y/n”

You were flabbergasted to find your ex-fiance taking a hold of your bag of groceries with his whip that was about to hit the ground and voluntarily offering his Neko tote bag for you which you persuaded him not to.

“Mawmmy pwease I want that too, Neko”, her tiny hands reaching out determined to get it no matter what.

“Baby no–”

“Well your daughter love cats so much, you can give this to her, please just a friendly gift”, taking out something from his pocket leaning down a bit to his side to rummage on that keychain, letting you see his necklace around his neck with that old engagement ring of yours dangling.

“Found it, here kid I’m not sure if you’ll like this”

“Aww Mawmmy have that too um…right Mawmmy, so no thanks Mister”

There’s no way you were married that’s what Shouta suspected when he saw you not wearing any ring, and obviously that cat keychain was closely similar to his anniversary keychain that you two bought for each other.

“Y/n I can drive you two back to your house if its okay–”

“Mawmmy please say yes”

You sighed in defeat not having a choice in the first place and also giving freedom to your child to spend time with her father who doesn’t know about this.

His car was still the same, sitting beside him and your child now sleeping behind after getting so tired ogling on his car’s cat accesories.

You chuckled upon seeing your daughter’s face on the mirror messily drooling, leaning slightly on your side to wipe the corner of her mouth.

“Darling is she our daughter”

“Eyes on the road Shouta, and yes so what will you do about it. Do you expect me to ask for any financial support from you oh maybe spending your precious time for our daughter that I can’t even get from you years ago”, you sarcastically uttered, stabbing him rudely with those truthful words he was unprepared to hear from you.

“I understand if you’re still mad at me y/n, but I just want you to let you know that I want to set things right first before asking you to forgive me. Because I don’t want to miss this opportunity again to tell you how much I wanted to talk to you or maybe to see you in your white wedding dress”

You can’t resist how determined he was to get close to you again, feeling his hand slowly making its way on you.

Giving back that engagement ring to whom it truly belongs, and that was you, a dream he wanted to come true despite it being too impossible.

Turning your head away to wipe your own tears, proposing for the second time that you have been waiting to hear from him all along.

“She’s your daughter Shouta and don’t you dare make her cry of I’ll scratch your face harder than what your cat does”

“That’s too kind of you, I mean my cat misses your deadly belly rub too, you named him Mr. Pickles right, well I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his Mom again and his new sibling soon”,

You both exchanged soft giggling catching up on one another by starting the conversation about your lives and so on and so forth, and apparently your child was eavesdropping on both of you.

Your daughter muffled a “Pro hero mission success” after accomplishing her goal, peeking a bit to see you wearing that shiny ring.

She knew it the first time she saw that stranger recognizing him from one of the picture you often place under your pillow, her daddy.

Well she did inherit Shouta’s intellectual skills after all.

Do not repost this fic/headcanon.

Disclaimer: I don't own My hero academia nor its characters and plot.

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #shouta x y/n #shouta x reader #shouta x you #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #Reposted my old fic/hc here cause I forgot to remove keep reading before deactivating

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thechekhov · 4 years

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Hi! I saw on a post that you're agender and I'm kinda questioning my gender (again) but what interested me more about that post was that you said you believe that gender is a social construct and I'm not really familiar with that theory. I was wondering if you could explain to me what the whole idea is? (bc I kinda only feel like a have a gender in social situations? In my head, my dreams and how I picture myself in the future, I'm genderless idjskahwksjejensj) Sorry for bothering you if I did.

This is a BIG topic and it opens a LOT of wormholes.

We’re gonna do this in pie slice statements that will hopefully help explain what I mean. Please keep in mind I’m going to simplify many things for the sake of readability.

1) What is a social construct?

Social constructs are ideas that are negotiated by social groups. Something being a social construct does not make it ‘not real’.

For example, money is a social construct. Yes, we have cash - coins, credit cards - but these are physical props that are REPRESENTATIVE of the idea of currency. You have some form of credit to your name - the money is a socially agreed-upon idea of value being represented by bills in your hand, by numbers in your bank account.

[Description: Two humanoid figures are standing side by side. The right-side figure is holding a rock in its hand.

Right side figure: Let’s agree that this shiny rock is worth 2 sheep.

Left side figure: Sounds fake but ok.]

Technically, countries are also social constructs. We, as a society, negotiate what a country is, and this can be changed.

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of a dotted line drawn on the ground. The left figure is pointing down at it while the right figure watches, its arms crossed.

Left figure: Let’s pretend that everything on this side of the imaginary line is mine.

Right figure: ...ok but my house is over there.

Left figure: ... for 3 shiny rocks you can come visit.]

Does that mean canada isn’t real? No. (I mean, obviously canada ISN’T real, but we all agree to pretend it is.) The thing that makes it real is that we are in agreement, and all follow the social rules of pretend to make it seem like the Canadian border, the idea of Canadian citizenship, etc... is an objective fact. (It’s not. These are in fact, negotiable limits and parameters. We have laws in place to define it in legal terms, but those laws can be changed, or may change in the minds of communities. That’s why it’s a construct.)

By that same token, I hold the view that gender, as we largely perceive it in modern society, is a construct. Why? Because it is not inherent; we, as a society, negotiate its meaning.

2) What is gender?

People will probably fight me on this and that’s fine, but here’s my (simplified) understanding of gender (from someone who personally has none)

Gender is a social category negotiated by cultures based on your assigned or desired role in your community that influences, among many other things, your physical appearance, your role in family units, your expected position in jobs, etc.

How I think it happened:

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of the panel, both holding children-looking figures. The one on the left is wearing purple. The one on the right is wearing green.

Green figure: Hey, I’ve got an idea. What if we separate the babies into two groups based on physical traits they have no control over?

Purple figure: Wh-- okay...?

Green figure: And then limit the jobs they can do and the community ritual involvement available to them based on that!

Purple figure: ... I feel like this is going to backfire on us someday.

Green figure: Nah, it’ll be fine.

The past panel is a dramatic closeup on the purple figure’s face - which is featureless - betraying a deeply doubtful emotion. It says nothing.]

Important points to remember: what gender looks like, what the limits are, what the expectations are... are not inherent to any human biology. We make up gender roles. This is evident in the fact that across the world, gender roles differ by culture. The positions people of a certain gender are allowed to take up are different. What is perceived to be ‘girly’ or ‘boyish’ is different across cultures.

Simply speaking - currently the (western) model we have, dumbed down, is:

You are assigned male at birth because of physical characteristics

You are raised being told to ‘toughen up’ and ‘boys don’t cry’ and encouraged not to show emotions

You are taught to wear male-coded clothes and discouraged from female-coded fashion choices

You are given more opportunities to participate in sports, encouraged to engage in physical activity, etc

You are not expected to need time off for child-rearing

Here’s where gender as it works in society breaks down into being not a real thing but instead something we thought up:

Nothing about having a penis necessitates wearing pants. Nothing about having XY chromosomes means you need to keep your hair short. Nothing about your genome makes the experience of nail-polish different for any human being.

All of these are arbitrary traits we decided were allowed or not allowed to a specific group of people based on entirely unrelated physiology.

Even if we delve deeper, there is MORE variation among individuals of the same ‘sex’ than there are, on average, of members of the ‘opposite sex’ when compared to each other.

Many people use the excuse ‘women are physically not as strong as men’ to say that this has an evolutionary aspect driving these cultural, historical, socially-constructed gender requirements.

But if there was a physical reasoning behind the culturally-set gender-limited job expectations, then we actually WOULDN’T need a traditional binary gender system to sort ourselves into categories. It would simply be decided as a meritocracy - stronger individuals, regardless of gender, would be given physically-demanding jobs. (Also we know that many jobs thought to be ‘traditionally male’ are just the result of sexist bullshit, so this reasoning doesn’t fly any further than I can throw it which is, coincidentally, not very far. Politics is one such area. Doctors are another. We can go on but I think you get my drift.)

My own example of this is an anecdote when my grandparents came to visit my partner and I in Japan. While we were driving down to Tokyo, my grandmother - who has a PhD in entomology - began to say that driving is a masculine activity and women shouldn’t be driving as it was ‘un-woman-like’. My partner almost immediately fired back that in Japan, studying insects or having any interest in them whatsoever was considered a heavily masculine-coded activity. In Russia, there is no such assignment, and my grandmother was left silently blinking in confusion, unable to come up with any excuse except ‘well, all cultures are different, I suppose...’

Do either of these things inherently have a gendered aspect? Of course not! But we assign gendered ideals to them anyway.

3) If gender is made up and constructed by society, then does that mean trans people aren’t real?

No.

Even if you agree that gender is a social construct, trans people are still real. TERFs don’t get a pass. Why?

Because gender - as a social construct - still affects our everyday lives, dictates our social position in our community. Transitioning is still a thing that has to happen. The fact that you are NOT easily able to decide your own gender and are ostracized for wanting to transition, abused for dressing the way you want to be perceived, and bullied for wanting people to refer to you with different pronouns - all those are the effects of a social construct that has very REAL impact on our lives.

This is also why I dislike defining trans-ness by dysphoria. Because transgender people are not only their suffering - the suffering is coming from the outside!! Many trans people remember not being concerned about their gender identity in their childhood, because they did not yet perceive the world as being hostile to their desire to fulfil a specific role in society. The issues and self-hatred and dysphoria begins when they express wanting to be themselves - a life which they are forbidden from pursuing based on physical characteristics they were born with.

Does this mean we should try to remove gender from society? If we constructed it, we can deconstruct it, right?

Realistically, I highly doubt this is possible. Gender is so ingrained in our daily lives that it would be difficult. Nor, I would say, would it be necessary to achieve world peace.

Having social groups - having gender - isn’t inherently a bad thing. The bad thing is when we limit those social groups to specific basic human rights, like voting, or when we forbid them from transitioning from one to another based on things that are out of their control.

Also, I’m not saying genitals and secondary sexual characteristics aren’t real. Please don’t bother sending me that angry message, I’ll ignore it, I promise.

But the concept of gender IS something we thought up and maintain and negotiate with each other to this very day. It’s not granted to us by a higher power, nor is it a constant, unchanging thing. It’s a part of the human experience and like everything, it has the potential to evolve - as a concept in our communal memory, as well as on an individual level, for people who feel they want to be perceived differently.

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk!

#hiimholalate #gender #agender #queer stuff #gender is a social construct #social construct #genderqueer #long post

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ateezmakemeweep · 3 years

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broken (part 2).

san x reader

word count: 12k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of domestic abuse and rape)

(part 1)

no matter how many times you tried to change your thinking patterns, you still classified your life into two parts: before the abuse and after.

you thought, after watching your ex-boyfriend being escorted out of the courtroom with a one-year prison sentence, that you wouldn’t be scared of him anymore.

you thought that moving out of the house and living in your new apartment would make day to day life easier, not needing to see the floor you were beaten on or counter you were forced to have sex on every day.

you thought that having san would make you feel happy and loved and enough. that having a whole new family unit consisting of seven other crazy boys and a crotchety old lady would be enough.

but as you sit curled up on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes, you’re seeing you severely underestimated everything.

underestimated just how much trauma you still had to sort through and how badly that asshole really did mess you up.

six months ago:

“so we have the surveillance footage and witness testimony from your neighbors,” your lawyer explains gently, an older woman with kind eyes and soft-spoken voice that quickly transforms in the courtroom.

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

the harshest sentence being one year, a measly 365 days compared to the 1,825 he subjected you to every kind of abuse: sexual, emotional, mental, physical.

hitting and grabbing and slapping until your skin was littered with bruises and cuts.

talking so harshly to you that you believed dying was the best option, stripping you from any sort of confidence or self-esteem you once had.

making you feel completely inept and useless, solely viewing you as a piece of property he could boss around and use at his disposal.

you had left the office with shaking hands and a pounding heart, barely being able to dial san’s number before he answered after one ring.

this was the first appointment you’ve went to without him, insisting he can’t and won’t miss his midterm for this.

“hi, love. everything go okay?” he asks softly, with the sweet gentle voice that has quite literally kept you alive these past few months.

you don’t know what you did in another life to deserve san but you know that without him, you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. without his constant support and sweet reassurances, you wouldn’t have believed you could ever do this.

willingly tell police officers and lawyers about what happened to you, break down and expose yourself in such a way that always made you feel weak and pathetic.

admit aloud that, yes, you’ve been a victim of abuse and no, those bruises and scars on your body aren’t from clumsy falls into the wall or cabinet.

without him, accompanying you to the police station or lawyer’s office, where you knew jungkook was lingering, you would’ve never felt safe.

you would’ve broke down and took it all back, told them that you made it all up and to release him because he didn’t do anything wrong.

but he did so much wrong and you and san know that. the police and lawyers and judges know it too, several outbursts from the man in court and at the station proving that.

it’s what makes the thought of a personal statement so hard, having to look your ex-boyfriend in the face and watch him stare you down with not an ounce of remorse or sorrow.

san must know it too, if your silence through the phone tells him anything, and you can already hear shuffling in the background as he prepares to leave his class and head to your apartment.

“are you done with your test?” you ask first, voice sweet but mousy in a way that makes san’s stomach sink

he knew today was gonna be rough for you, he knew he should’ve asked his professor to retake the midterm next week.

“yes,” the boy answers immediately, knowing he’s about to run back into the classroom, circle c for the last three answers and haul ass to his car.

“san, are you-”

“i was done, it’s fine, y/n,” he confirms gently, feet moving and body desperate to rush toward your apartment.

because he knows after all of this time, you’ve learned to hold back your pain and suffering. years of practice and keeping tears at bay that he’s noticed have made these months difficult for you two.

and he hates knowing that you still wait till you’re alone to cry.

that even though every time you do, he wipes away every tear and holds you to his chest until you fall asleep, you still feel most comfortable being sad alone.

that you’re probably already home now, about to bury your face in a pillow and sob until you hear his car and wipe your cheeks clean like nothing is wrong.

but there’s a lot wrong.

a lot wrong with how you’ve been treated and how hard it is to move past it.

a lot wrong with the legal system that makes this painful journey even more exhausting, forcing you to recount memory after memory and answer question after question about the worst ordeals of your life.

that’s why san can’t help but turn in his test and rush out the door to his car, speeding off campus and onto the highway in hot pursuit of your apartment above the bakery.

it had seemed like perfect little place to get you back on your feet, the smell of freshly baked bread and pleasant bustle of regulars greeting you in the early morning hours.

there was no commute for you, just a walk down the stairs and through the yellow door of the bakery, where simple work waited for you.

“you just need to ring up the customers and maybe clean a table or two. most people take their things to go,” your boss had told you, a divorced mother of three who spent most of her life baking before she was finally able to open up a place of her own.

it was simple work but it was more than you’d done in years, something as little as small talk with regulars successfully draining you. filling you with a nervousness and fear that you’re still feeling even without your ex’s presence.

but it’s in the way a man yells on the phone about a business deal going sour while waiting for his morning coffee.

a woman chastising her kids saying that they won’t get to eat the cookies she’s buying after dinner.

the slam of the door when a harsh gust of wind howls from outside and rattles the small bakery with light blue walls and pictures of bread and desserts.

you don’t know how many coffees you’ve spilt or plates you’ve broken from jumping at the harsh sounds, realizing little by little how hard this transition was gonna be.

even with san and his friends and your boss and the crazy old lady who secured this new life for you in the first place, it’s still hard.

you can’t even imagine doing all of these new things alone, just living in such a simple way that the average person takes for granted.

but you suppose it’s not all simple yet, going back and forth between meetings with your lawyer and the police for the court date that’s rapidly approaching.

you can feel that the closer it comes, the harder it is to breathe.

the mere thought of seeing the man who hurt you for the longest five years of your life, sitting in front of you with not an ounce of remorse on his face. making this process even harder because how are you supposed to talk in front of him?

see clear as day that you’re not safe and you never will be.

that he’s gonna get out in a year, because that’s the harshest sentence possible without you being hospitalized or dead, and hurt you again. he’s never gonna stop hurting you because he always said you were his and he wouldn’t ever hesitate to-

you don’t even hear the jingle of san’s keys opening the front door or his softly spoken call of your name.

you’re only aware of his presence when you feel his warm, small hands cup your face, his thumbs rubbing over your wet, salty skin as he mutters your name lowly.

“hey, i’m here, i’m here,” he mumbles sweetly, tone soft and gentle the way it always is no matter what the circumstances are.

he plops down on the couch before pulling you into his lap, his hand rubbing up and down your back gently. you hear the quiet but firm “sh, sh, sh,” against your head, the sharp calming hums always in threes as an attempt to ground you.

you try to focus on his calming sounds and even breaths, the hand on your back so warm and gentle as he lulls your panicked body into a calmer state.

you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent, cologne and detergent mixed with his natural scent that lingers on your pillow every morning.

“i-i’m sorry.”

the words make his stomach plummet, tears burning his eyes because you never have anything to be sorry for. you never have anything to be sorry for and you say it all the time.

when you bump into him in the kitchen while making food together.

when you sit on the remote and change the channel by accident.

when you burnt the cookies one night and made the fire alarm go off.

he remembers that being one of the worse nights, the loud noises making you jump while also flinching away when he lifted his arm up to fan away the smoke. and then you immediately apologized again, cookies long forgotten before he grabbed your hand and led you into the living room.

he just held your hand as you both watched tv, his thumb rubbing over your skin before you spoke words so quietly, he almost missed them.

“i wish...i would stop doing that.”

he cranes his neck over to look at you, eyebrow raised and eyes soft as he looks at you questioningly.

he wants to tease and say that you’ve never burnt the cookies before but anytime you feel comfortable enough to talk to him like this, he never wants to say the wrong thing.

“i...i know you would never hurt me,“ you continue after a few moments. “and i know i’m just...scared easily, i guess. but it makes me feel bad,” you admit quietly, heart pulling in your chest as you look at the man beside you.

he has gotten you through the hardest times of your life, has been by your side every step of the way with no questions or complaints, and you haven’t been able to repay him.

not even with a plate of fucking cookies.

“you don’t have to feel bad, y/n,” san says gently, his hand reaching out slowly to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

your eyes close at his feather light touch and the way it makes your heart jump, his fingers lingering on you in a way that makes you feel so safe and content.

“and i know it’s hard to believe still but you have nothing to be scared of either. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again and i mean that.”

“but i feel like i’m hurting you,” you mumble softly, pulling your knees up as you rest your head on the couch cushion. his brows pull together as his eyes roam your face, a pout on his lips the more he looks at you in silence.

“you’ve helped me so much and i just...” tears fill your eyes as you struggle to find the words and breathe. you’ve only been living in your new house for two months now and almost every day, san has been here.

bringing you food, helping you clean and decorate, spending late nights with you watching movies, helping you through an inevitable fit of panic when your memories and life become too much.

he makes it easier to breathe and you’re scared that without him, you’re gonna stop one day.

“i just keep... taking from you. you get nothing out of helping me but you still do it anyway and i...you shouldn’t even bother, san. i-i’m not worth this time and i just want you to-”

“stop.”

he tries to keep the anger out of his voice knowing that all of this is what you’ve been told. you’ve been told your whole life that you weren’t enough, were only deemed worthy by a piece of shit who did nothing but hurt and berate you.

but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear. to hear in your voice and see in your eyes that you truly believe you’re not worth the time he wants to put into you.

“you’re worth the time to me,” he says, voice gentle but firm in a way that makes a lump form in your throat. his finger reaches out to trace small circles on your hand, your eyes following it so he doesn’t see the tears building up.

“i like seeing you happy, y/n. and i wanna help you.”

your teary eyes meet his and you swallow the growing lump in your throat when you see the look on his face, soft and sweet in a way you still can’t believe is directed toward you.

“i feel like i need a lot of help,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as you think back to how day to day life is so challenging and draining.

the loud voices and the screaming kids and banging door that sends you into a panic. the broken dishes and tear stains on your pillow that are there more often than not after san leaves every night.

but san’s hearing each and every word right now, his heart panging in his chest at how vulnerable you are right now. how you let him see this side of you and continue to despite how hard he knows everything’s been.

“that’s okay,” he smiles softly, stopping the circles on your hand to intertwine your fingers. “i’m gonna be here as long as you need me, okay?”

you look up to meet his gaze and feel a tear slip down your cheek, a cry bubbling in your throat that you so desperately wanna let out.

but you also don’t wanna make san any more sad tonight, biting down on your lip as you nod your head before leaning on his shoulder.

you don’t see the smile that crosses his face or hear the content sigh that leaves him, his hand in yours and presence enough to lull you into a dreamless sleep.

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you quietly, looking over your face as he wipes at your cheeks. you meet his gaze and your eyes stay locked on one another, his thumb gentle and soft across your skin.

“did you do good on your test?” you squeak out after a few moments of silence, a smile breaking out across his face.

“of course i did, we studied all night, didn’t we?” he teases, referring to just last night when you helped him with index cards and read them all to him twice before promptly passing out on his chest.

a blush crosses your face as you look down in embarrassment, a sweet high pitched laugh bubbling out of him.

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. your drool only ruined a few of them.”

“i don’t drool,” you mutter, a small smile on san’s face as he tightens his hold on you in his lap.

“did you eat yet?”

you shake your head as indistinguishable mumble leaves your mouth, curling yourself into his chest more as his warmth and comforting scent envelop you.

his lips brush against your hair in a small smile, quietly asking what you wanna eat even though he knows you’re gonna say you don’t care.

“whatever you want,” you mutter against him, the exhaustion of waking up at 5 am and the draining meeting with your lawyer catching up to you.

and san knows on days like these that chinese food and watching reruns of old cartoons is usually the thing you need to feel a little bit better.

pretend that just for a few hours, everything is okay and there’s nothing more pressing than spending the night together in what always turns into having a sleepover.

because just as you found it difficult to live in that house you once shared with jungkook, san finds it difficult to go back to that block every night.

stay just a few houses away from where he’s reminded of how you were treated while he was just a few feet away.

watching as the backyard once full of flowers becomes dull and colorless and every window reminds him of what was truly going on behind the walls of that house.

it’s one of the reasons why staying with you just makes sense. that and the fact that leaving you always proves to be the hardest part of the night together.

you with a pout and sad eyes quietly whining for him to stay and him being completely powerless as he throws himself down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist.

he’s not surprised when the same thing happens tonight, your eyes drooping and body slacking against him before he quietly asks if he should get going. you look up at him tiredly, eyebrows pulled together and one cheek red from you leaning on his chest in a way that makes him hold back a smirk.

“no,” you say quietly, your eyes roaming his face before you quickly realize he might want to leave you. the thought rips a pang of hurt through your chest but you can’t help but feel that might be the case.

you ripped him away from his test and cried on him all night. why would he wanna stay with you?

“unless you want to. i-i don’t wanna force you to stay here if you don’t-”

“of course i want to,” san responds, taking your face in his hands gently and allowing his thumb to run along your soft skin. “i was just checking.”

because he also never wants to overstep. make you feel too overwhelmed or smothered since if it were up to him, he’d never leave your side again.

his words and touch send relief through you, the panic and fear that attempted to break through quickly dying it. everything about him makes it so easy to be calm and comforted, a smile making it’s way on your face as you nod.

you place your head back on his chest, sighing contently when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder a few moments later. you stare at the tv blankly, not sure how long you’re lost in thought about the conversation at the lawyer’s office.

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

could you really do that though? strip yourself to the most vulnerable degree and proclaim to a courtroom full of people how weak and defenseless you were for five years? how the man who’s gonna be seated just a few feet away over you had that much power over you?

would you feel better looking jungkook in the face and telling him that you’re gonna be strong and come out okay? that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore and will rot behind a cell for what he’s done?

or would you it make you feel worse? seeing him again and the blankness behind his eyes. the pity and sorrowful looks on the judge and court officers when your voice shakes and eyes brim with tears as you recall your old life.

you’re not even sure if san is awake at this point, his arm heavy around you and breaths even under your head but you can’t seem to stop your tired self from speaking.

“my lawyer suggested i make a personal statement.”

san doesn’t stutter under you, the only sign of him being awake when he hums lowly and gently pulls away from you. the bed dips next to you when he lays on his side, your eyes meeting just as he reaches out to smooth out a messy strand of hair.

“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, his soft eyes roaming your face. “how do you feel about that?”

the question, despite the serious tension in leaves in the air, makes you smile softly, remembering when your lawyer recommended counseling, you thought back to san waiting in the car and felt as if you already had all the support you needed.

he has the most patience and kindness of anyone you’ve ever met before and you can’t imagine trusting someone as much as trust him. have someone else hear you this vulnerable and genuine, see you cry and feel all the emotions that come with rebuilding your life after being a victim of domestic violence.

“i don’t know if i can do it.”

the words make san frown, holding himself up on his elbow as he looks over your face with concern. he can tell you’re tired, eyes hazy and drooping but he also can tell your mind’s been preoccupied.

more so than usual.

“i...i don’t know if i could do it with him there.”

“he’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” san reminds you gently, his hand creeping down in between your bodies to take ahold of yours. it’s soft and small and warm and everything about it makes you feel safe.

“i-i know. but...just him being there. watching me and hearing me say what he’s done when i know he has no remorse. and then telling more people how i let it go on for so long and-”

“you didn’t let anything go on for too long. it wasn’t your fault. y/n.”

tears burn your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, hearing those words from almost everyone in your life but still not having the ability to grasp it.

it feels like your fault, it feels like you’ve allowed yourself to be treated in a way you knew was wrong for far too long.

because now look at you. trying to rebuild your life but being panicked when the wind howls just a little too loudly outside.

you take a few deep calming breaks and swallow as you look at him, eyes hazy and glossy and threatening to close shut; you’re so tired but it’s like your brain never stops going these days.

“she said...it’d guarantee the harshest sentence. but shouldn’t the evidence be enough? the tapes and the witnesses? why- why do i have to keep going through this?” you whisper, voice shaky and tears building as you look at him. the sight alone makes san stomach sink, rolling his tongue between his lips anxiously.

“i just want it to be over. i don’t wanna keep recounting what happened over and over and over again. i... it’s so hard, san. it’s so hard and i feel like i can’t do it anym-”

your words break off as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, crumbling against san’s body when he pulls you forward and wraps his arms around you. your head falls in the crook of his neck as his hand rests on the back of your head, breathing slowly and evenly as quiet hums leave his mouth.

“I know, baby,” san mumbles, his lips against your head as he presses a kiss to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? no one can make you do anything.”

"you're hurting me, jungkook," your broken voice tells him, the cracks and pain behind it familiar to even your own ears.

you don't know how many times you've heard yourself like this. so desperate and defeated.

"i wish i didn't have to, babydoll," he says lowly, "but you never listen. you make me do this."

and you don’t even think about if you’re gonna regret it at the time. not use your own voice and speak up in front of the courtroom about what the man on trial did.

you can only think about his eyes watching you, your friends hearing your voice quiver and shake, the judge maybe not taking your words into account. it all seems too much right now, the crushing weight of anxiety and fear that’s making you feel too weak to do that.

“you made it this far. and it’s almost all over, okay?” san reassures, his hand stroking your hair as he tries to calm your cries. “if you wanna do it, i’ll be right there next to you. we’ll all be there for you and you’ll be safe the whole time. but if you don’t, that’s okay too. you don’t have to and everything will still be okay.”

and because it’s like the blonde just knows everything when it comes to you, everything is okay - or as okay as things can be under these circumstances.

your lawyer didn’t bat an eye when you told her you weren’t sure if you could do a personal statement, her hand on your shoulder as she gently tells you that it’s okay. that the harshest sentence would probably still be given, considering the unusual amount of evidence in a case like this.

you watched jungkook get taken out of court with a one year sentence, thrashing in handcuffs and cursing at you while you gripped san’s hand tightly.

you had foolishly thought watching that was gonna somehow heal you immediately.

no longer make you afraid or flinch at the smallest of sounds or movements, make you feel like now you can take san’s words to heart and feel worthy of the love he showered you with.

but it was with that love, you started to grow too dependent. let it consume you in a whole new way that made you feel like without san, you couldn’t breathe.

at first, he didn’t know what had triggered the episodes that followed three months after the trial.

it had seemed as if you were making a lot of progress over the past few months, truly happy and smiley without an ounce of fear in your eyes that had always seemed to linger.

you were working hard at the bakery, becoming closer with the regulars and even finding it easier to talk with them. they found you comforting and sweet, always greeting them with a warm smile and remembering how many sugars they got with their morning coffee.

the same warm smile you gave san when he told you he was visiting his parents for his mom’s birthday one weekend, sending him off with a loaf of bread and an array of cookies.

“don’t eat them all,” you teased lightly, side-eyeing mingi who was one of your many regulars and could also take your advice as he shovels rainbow cookies in his mouth.

“i won’t,” san smiles gently, looking in mingi’s direction and holding back a laugh upon seeing the boy.

he was probably the next closest person you came to trust since you all got to know each other, a soft spot for him ever since the moment he deemed sunflowers ‘sunnies’ during the darker times.

mingi was the happiness and innocence you think you must have had once. finding the good in everything and being happy just because the sun was out and dessert was on the table.

“and neither should you,” san chastises the younger boy, smacking him in the back of the head lightly. you smile softly at the exchange, holding back a snort as you clean off the table next to the bickering boys.

the arm around your waist a few moments later would’ve startled you had you not smelt san’s cologne, leaning into him and feeling grateful you’re the only three in the store right now.

you look over your shoulder and smile softly at him, heart stuttering at the look on his face. eyes full of such concern, you should know he’s about to ask you if you’re-

“are you gonna be okay tonight?”

he wasn’t ignorant of the fact, the same way you weren’t, that this is gonna be one the first nights you’ve spent alone in months.

not falling asleep to the gentle lull of his breathing or his arms around your waist. no one to be there if you wake up from a nightmare, where memories torment your body as you hear the shouts of your ex and feel as if your body is still being bruised.

san not being there to wake you with a gentle peck on the cheek before dragging you back to the warm bed when you try to get up for work.

but you have to be okay, right? you’ve been doing so good these past few weeks. and you’re an adult the same way he’s an adult, it’s ridiculous to think you guys would have to spend every night together.

“of course, silly” you poke him gently, smiling when his dimples poke out of his cheeks. “have fun with your parents. don’t worry about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he mumbles lowly, his lips ghosting over your hair as you push his chest lightly. he bites back a smile when he sees the blush on your cheeks, pulling away from him immediately so you can stick your tongue out at him.

and that night, it actually feels as if you’re okay.

you busy yourself by cleaning and cooking before passing out to the vampire diaries. your sleep is dreamless and calm, waking up to a good morning message from san consisting of a bare-faced, messy-haired selfie.

but a few days after his return is when he began to notice the little changes.

behaviors he thinks you weren’t even aware of that made his heart sink into his stomach; it reminded him so much of the first few weeks you were away from jungkook.

how despite the fear in your eyes, you clung to him because you knew he’d never hurt you. felt safe in his presence and sought him out when you were feeling uncomfortable or upset.

and he sees you’re back to the place right now, so obviously uneasy and upset despite the major progress you’ve been making.

it was like the second he came through the door, you had to be by his side. leaning your head on his shoulder as you watched your shows or grabbing his hand when he got up to go to the bathroom.

at first, he thought it was cute - your clinginess and obvious affection toward him. he thought it was sweet and it made him so happy, smiling softly and kissing the top of your head as he told you he’d be back in a minute.

but the more the weeks went on, the worse it was seeming to get.

you asking him after only a few hours of him at school when he was gonna be back. nightmares and bad memories haunting you when you’d fall asleep for naps in between your shift ending and his last class.

“baby... are you sure you’re okay these days?”

the words cause you to stop stirring the pasta in the pot, craning your neck to where san is sitting on the countertop.

he meets your gaze with a soft smile and extends his hand out to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your nose before pulling you up.

you squeal at the sensation, giggling quietly because there you two are just perched on the counter like two cats and no regard for the boiling pot of food beside you.

you giggle again when he places a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold around your waist.

he relishes in the sound of your laugh because it also seems like these days, he’s hasn’t heard it that much.

“i feel like i haven’t heard that in a while,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips lingering on your skin. he never wants to say the wrong thing with you or make you feel like you’re not doing good enough.

you pull back and look at him with a small pout, your fingers toying at the end of his shirt nervously.

“i...i’m okay though,” you tell him quietly, thinking it’s the truth even though you have felt off these days.

you didn’t know what it was though honestly. it’s felt like ever since san came back from his parents, you’ve needed him extra. clingy and needy and annoying in the sense that the poor man can’t even go away without you needing him.

and now he seems to know it, too.

maybe he doesn’t wanna do this anymore. maybe he didn’t sign up for months of you going back and forth, feeling great and confident one week and then back to being clingy and scared the next.

because you know it’s only a matter of time before two things happens: he gets sick of you and leaves or starts resenting you. doesn’t wanna waste his time with a battered woman when he could be wth fun and carefree college girls.

“have i been annoying?”

your blurted out question throws him off as much as it breaks his heart, immediately shaking his head as he cups your cheeks.

his lips fall into a pout and your eyes immediately fall to them, about to comment on it before he places a sweet, short peck on yours.

you two, despite your close and intimate relationship full of skin-ship, don’t kiss a lot. you can only count of one hand how many times san has kissed you on the lips, most of the time going for your cheek or head.

but you certainly don’t mind.

you think it’s good to take it slow, since everything else about your relationship is so intense. that’s why the times he does kiss you, you get filled with such a happy warm feeling that usually makes you feel better no matter what.

that’s how you know you’re not right. that suddenly, for some reason, you’re not okay again despite being so incredibly lucky that the people in you life now care about you.

they’re trying so hard to help you and it feels like you can’t repay them in any way.

“no, no, baby, not at all,” san says when he pulls back, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. “i’m just concerned.”

the lump in your throat makes it feel like you can’t breathe, biting your lip harshly as you look up at the blonde.

“i love that you want me around,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you. “but i’m just...i also wanna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod your head as you take in his words, slightly calmed by them despite the way your mind is trying to tell you otherwise.

he loves that you want him around, he just said so. and he wouldn’t put up with you if he didn’t want to, right?

“i’m okay,” you assure sweetly, leaning into his touch just a little bit more. “i guess i just missed you.”

your cheeks flush at the soft, almost touched look that crosses san’s face, his lips falling into a pout as he tightens his hold on you.

“i missed you too.”

boiling liquid splashing onto the stove causes you both to look away, a squeal leaving your mouth as the foamy water overflows the pot.

“shit!” you squeal, jumping down from the counter to rush over and lower the heat. san watches from his spot with a small smile, chuckling lightly when you throw him a look.

“sorry,” he says sheepishly, a playful roll of your eyes causing him to jump down and hug you from behind.

he presses small kisses and laughs into the crook of your neck as you finish making the pasta, feeding him pieces from the pot to see if it’s cooked enough.

you eat on the couch and spend the rest of the night watching tv, a relatively calm and relaxed night that makes you feel much better than the past few days.

you think you just got so used to his presence, the comfort and warmth and light he provides by just being in your apartment and smiling at you.

you were scared by how attached you’d grown to him, depending on him in a way you think a person who has gone through what you’ve gone through shouldn’t.

but he’s so good and makes you feel loved. it’s such a different feeling than one you’ve ever experienced, after your family and friends and ex-boyfriend let you down time and time again.

you’ve never had someone like this before but you’ve also never tried to rebuild your life before. never had the chance to be your own person and make your own decisions - it’s something you’re still learning and that’s evident to everyone in your life.

but the next morning, a pleasant surprise in the form of mrs. kim comes bursting through the door and immediately lights your face with a smile; apart from san and mingi, she’s another person you’ve grown extremely close and fond of.

she’s the one who made everything possible, rebuilding your life with a new home and workplace. it’s why she always tries to push you further out of your comfort zone and into the real world with gentle prodding and much needed assurance.

she’s at the bakery for almost two hours before she pulls up a chair behind the register and gets that look in her eye you know all too well. it’s the look she gave you the day you accepted the apartment, insisting you take it and make it your own and to not even think about how to pay her back.

the look she gave you before the trial as she gave you strength, told you that you were strong and you were gonna get through this, with or without your personal statement.

and apparently it’s the look she gives you when she broaches the topic of you enrolling back in school.

“so what do you think?” she asks, tone carefree and excited like she’d been thinking about this for weeks. “is that something you’d wanna do?”

your immediate thought is yes. yes, yes, yes shout it from the rooftops yes. you miss school and learning and all the experiences that come with getting an education.

you once loved school and had so many aspirations but then your life apart. the prospect of an education or getting a job was dangled in your face as some sort of manipulation tactic.

that when jungkook went too far and left you especially bloody and bruised, he’d mentioned school like it was the answer to all of your problems as a couple. like that was his penance and would win him boyfriend of the year.

and mrs. kim must see the haunted look in your eye, replaying flashbacks and memories from how choices like that weren’t under your control for the longest time.

“listen to me, stop staying in there,” she says, flicking at your head and making you wince. “is that something you wanna do? yes or no?”

“yes but i-”

“but nothing,” the old lady says, wiping out an ipad the boys had been teaching her how to use for the past few weeks; the font is the biggest size you’ve ever seen and has a cat case on that almost makes you burst out laughing upon seeing.

“i was looking at the local school, it’s close and cheap but you could always get some financial aid, scholarships or even a loan,” she begins to tell you, eyes squinted and a wrinkle between her browns as she taps on the screen. “this shit is so hard, i’m still trying to learn. oh, great here it is, okay. look, they even have this major.”

you had mentioned once that you thought about a career in journalism to her, one night when you and her were making cookies in her house as the boys tended to her garden (because they were gardeners now, official, professional gardeners who only know how to plant sunflowers).

tears almost immediately fill in your eyes as you follow her pruny finger, licking over your lips so you don’t start sobbing.

she looks up at you after a few moments of silence and it’s promptly followed by her smacking your arm, a scoff leaving her mouth that makes you giggle.

“what are you crying about?”

the emotion clogged in your throat makes it hard to speak, attempting to talk through the strange contrast of tears and laughter bubbling in your throat.

“i just... i can’t believe you remember i told you that. it was so long ago.”

“what? you think because i’m old i don’t remember shit? i’m not a senile, y/n, jesus.”

a wet giggle leaves your mouth as you listen to her talk about the research she’s done, about how to pay and when you can start and her son’s experience at the local college.

it all makes you feel very hopeful, excited even, as you think about what once seemed impossible.

getting out in the world and pursuing a passion you as an individual had. making connections and just conversing with different people and seeing relationships form.

but all of those doubts and fears instilled in you don’t just go away.

you remember months back when you told san you were writing again, he was the one who recommended going back to school.

was so happy about it that his eyes were shining and dimples were out and you’d never seen someone more handsome.

but now that you guys are...kind of together, would his mind change? does he not want you talking to other people either now? will he think it’s silly or pointless, since you already have you job at the bakery?

you know deep down that that’s not the kind of person san is. you knew from the moment you met him and risked talking and smiling and laughing with him that he was good.

but that part of you still scared and broken from what you went through, the prospect of school and freedom dangled in your face as some sort of reward or apology, is scared he won’t approve.

and whether it’s unhealthy or not, all you want is san’s approval.

“c-can i ask you something?” you ask him later that night, both of you cuddled up on the couch.

a blanket’s thrown over your lap with san’s arm around your shoulder, your head now off his chest as you look up at him questioningly.

he immediately looks down at you with a soft, curious expression, running his hand through your hair as a small smile makes it’s way on his face.

“anything,” he hums lowly, already making your nervous body feel slightly more calm.

you have to try and always remember this is the boy who’s been by your side for months, with no complaints. who saved you from your life before this and only wants you to be safe and happy.

“i was talking to miss kim earlier today...” you begin, his interest already peeked because he thinks he might know where this is going; he was suspicious ever since the older woman asked him how to make the font larger on her ipad.

he sees the slight apprehension and fear in your eyes so he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your skin gently and giving you a small, encouraging nod.

you take a deep breath and try to shake the worry off, opening and closing your mouth before deciding to spit it out.

“we...were talking about me going back to school. and i...kind of thought that would be something good for me to do. i used to love school and learning and mrs kim. said there’s a lot of things i could do to pay for it and stuff, if i needed to...”

his chest hurts slightly watching you stammer over your words nervously, your eyes moving from him to the wall as you start to unconsciously hold his hand tighter.

“but if you don’t want me to or think it’s a stupid idea, i won’t. i just...wanted to make sure it was okay with you.”

you don’t see the way san sits there in contemplation as you’re too nervous and toying with the edge of the blanket, his face sympathetic but also a little surprised.

there’s a lot of things that san is still getting used to, the way you’re so vulnerable and attached to him (in a way he doesn’t mind at all).

but it’s like right now he’s seeing the severity of it, watching as a grown woman asks for his permission for something she absolutely doesn’t.

it makes tears burn the back of his eyes but he quickly pushes the sensation and desire away, his hand lifting your chin so you made his gaze head-on.

“y/n...you don’t need my permission to do anything. you... you know that, right?”

your eyebrows pull together almost in confusion that he didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no, head cocked to that side as you lick over your lips nervously.

he can’t help but think if this was a fault on his part. did he make you feel like you have to ask his permission or approval for things? did he maybe at any point make you feel scared or judged when he’s been doing his best to avoid that?

your harsh grip on his hand brings him back to the conclusion that, right now, this isn’t about him.

whether he did that or not, he has to make sure right now that you know you’re your own person and don’t need to run decisions by him or anyone else.

“baby, i think it’s great you wanna do that and will support whatever you wanna do. but you don’t have to ask for...my permission to do anything,” san tells you softly, his hand cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your head; the words ‘his permission’ even feel gross on his tongue.

“i’m happy if you’re happy. and if going to school will make you happy, i’m gonna be supportive 100%. you got it, love?”

you don’t even know why you’re surprised by san’s reaction but it still brings tears to your eyes, only being able to nod before you bury your face in his chest.

he bites back a smile at the feel of you against him, running his hand up your back to gently rest in your hair.

“you still wanna study journalism?” he mumbles against your hair and again, you can only nod so you don’t let out the whimper threatening to leave you mouth.

because it still shocks you day after day that everyone in your life now truly seems to care.

they remember things about you and want to see you smile, always remind you that you can do whatever you want and are slowly making you see that, maybe, you will be okay in the end.

it may not seem like a lot to someone who’s been lucky enough to have these things but, for you, it’s something you haven’t ever had before.

the ability to giggle and smile and spend your night with someone who you can see really, truly loves you. who wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and always has your best interests in mind.

that’s exactly why when you fall asleep, san can’t help but turn to look at your sleeping form. he runs his hand through your messy hair, moving a strand from your face and feeling his heart lurch at how peaceful and innocent you look.

he still can’t get the thoughts out of his heads from earlier, wondering if, maybe, this whole time, he hasn’t been doing the right thing.

maybe these past few months, you should’ve been rebuilding your life on your own. he shouldn’t have been here every, single step of the way to sooth and coddle and protect you.

it was something hongjoong said just a few weeks after you moved in and he nearly attacked the boy, asking how he could let you cry alone every night and feel lonely and scared in a new place?

but he also knows that hongjoong is more logical than him. he’s always let his emotions get to him, empathetic and caring almost to a fault.

and with you, he was always even more clouded.

now, though, he’s seeing that maybe hongjoong has a point. he’s seen it in the way you’ve become more clingy and dependent on him, something he loves and makes him feel warm but also knows, for you, is a part of feeling safe.

and as hard as it is for him to admit, he knows you need to feel safe without him. slowly rebuild your own sense of self and security without him always being there to wipe your tears or kiss your face.

but how is supposed to do that? he thinks, watching your sleeping face with a pained chest and burning eyes.

he’s about to get up to get a glass of water before he hears you whine, both his feet not even on the floor before even in your unconscious you can sense his departure.

“going to get water, love, i’ll be right back,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing the side of your head when you still and roll back over.

he gulps down the cool liquid before resting his head on the cold fridge, letting out a sigh as he realizes he may need to have another discussion with hongjoong.

even more so when he goes back into the room and sees your face, the slightest hint of discomfort in your pinched eyebrows and frowning lips.

you turn back over when he crawls in the bed again, your head on his chest and arm wrapping around his stomach.

he smiles upon hearing your sleepy voice call his name, dazed eyes staring up at him as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“hi, baby. i’m back.”

“i love you.”

the confession make his eyes widen and heart speed up, shocked into silence at those three, sudden words.

because while it’s obvious that’s how you both feel for each other, your sweet touches and words exchanged since the moment you met one another, you two haven’t ever uttered that sentence.

never put it out in the open and really discussed your feelings for one another.

but your eyes are shut and breaths turn even before you can even hear his softly spoken, “i love you,” in return.

and it’s because he loves you that he tells hongjoong about the thoughts he’s been having, wondering if he’s been doing the wrong thing the whole time and just making this transition harder for you.

“i think you’re trying to make it easier because you love her and don’t wanna see her hurt anymore.”

san’s eyes meet hongjoong’s across the dining room table at their house, a house san hasn’t slept or eaten at basically since you moved out; everyone knew where he was and they understood it completely but they also missed their friend’s presence.

“but...she does need to learn to be on her own, san. she’s never done that before and she’s always been dependent on someone. luckily you’re just...so fucking good that it wouldn’t be a problem. but even with her asking you if she could go to school...she’s not okay, yet, san. she needs to sort her shit out.”

“i don’t want her to be alone,” the blonde admits, voice tight and eyes threatening to water. “i don’t want her to think i’m leaving her.”

“you’re not leaving her alone. you’re just not gonna be attached at the hip 24/7. it’s normal for couples to be apart. you still live and pay rent here, you know. everyone misses you.”

the sound of bickering and plates crashing promptly comes from the kitchen, mingi’s harsh yelp of wooyoung’s name causing a commotion of bickering to break out.

hongjoong looks at san with a half pained, half amused expression, knowing that the dimpled boy will have to readjust to how loud and chaotic the house is all the time.

“you don’t have to do right now,” hongjoong says, wanting to finish the discussion before the boys notice san is here and lost their shit. “ease her into it. talk to her about it. see if she feels the same way. but let her know you just wanna help her, because i know you do, right?”

san’s nod is immediate and hongjoong mirrors him, his eyes quickly widening as he looks over the blonde’s broad shoulder.

he doesn’t even get to turn around before a slew of bodies bump into him, nearly knocking him onto the floor as six large, excited boys are jumping and squealing around him.

“san! you’re finally home!”

you’re nearly two months into your first semester of college by the time you’ve fully adjusted to your new schedule and pace of life.

classes monday, tuesday and thursdays mornings followed by your shift at the cafe during the afternoons. you miss your early morning regulars dearly and don’t know what to do with the 10+ memorized coffee orders still in your brain but you already love school so much.

you love learning and talking with your professors and meeting the many different people on campus. you’ve even found a small group of friends, two girls who sat next to you and immediately started up a conversation with you.

you were terffied and shy at first but eventually opened up, giggling and sharing your thoughts with them before class started - you even always made sure to be 10 minutes early so you could get in your chats with them.

unsurprisingly, san had been nothing but happy and supportive for the entire journey. helping you apply and become familiar with the campus while also assuring you everything was gonna work out.

your days were busy and packed with work and you truly loved it but night was still your favorite. when san would walk through the door with take out or you’d be greeted with the sight of him waiting for you on the couch.

it really felt as if your life was finally coming together, happy and at peace in a way you never felt before. it was like you finally had some sort of control over what happened to you, long gone the feeling of knots in your stomach or an uncontrollable shake in your hands.

but when you notice san is a little more quiet than usual today, you feel that foreign feeling make it’s way back into your body.

“is...everything okay?” you finally grow the confidence to ask, his hand absentmindley rubbing your leg that’s sprawled out on his lap.

you can tell the question throws him off by the way he snaps his head up to look at you, brows pulled together and his head cocked cutely to the side as his eyes roam your face.

“’course love, why do you ask?”

“i don’t know,” you hum softly, leaning the side of your head on the couch as you look at him. “i feel like you’re quiet today.”

“just thinking baby,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your leg before looking your way. “how were classes today?”

“good, i have to start my essay soon,” you tell him, something uneasy still pulling at your stomach; you’re not used to san being quiet or so lost in thought, usually the only time he’s silent is during a new episode of your shows.

“you’ll do great on it,” he says encouragingly, the hand on your leg gently calmingly rubbing your skin up and down. “you’re doing really good, you know that?”

happiness fills you at the thought of making san proud, a small smile on your face that causes one his own to cross his face. his dimples poke out and it reminds you so much of your first meeting, when the sun reflected off of him and you just knew there was something too pure and good about this man.

“thank you,” you smile softly, a faint blush on your cheeks that has san’s heart breaking in his chest even more.

he doesn’t wanna have this conversation tonight but he thinks it would be the best time. bring up maybe not staying over every night to create some more space for you while also allowing you to be more independent. learning how to fill your time with things other than him.

but you’re so happy tonight.

you’ve been so happy these past few months and he doesn’t wanna be the person to ruin that; it seems, though, you can see something behind his eyes and in his demeanor already, your body wiggling closer to him as your gaze shifts nervously.

“are you sure you’re okay?”

he lets out a sigh and you can’t help the way your stomach drops, watching carefully as his face turns contemplative and torn. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if you’re gonna be able to handle it.

and that alone is scaring the shit out of you.

the silence is probably only fifteen seconds but it feels like hours, your eyes staring wide and heart starting to race as you look at him; you don’t know what you did but you had to have done something, right? he wouldn’t just act like this out of nowhere.

“did i...do something wrong?” you ask meekly, that feeling of fear and panic you haven’t felt in almost a year creeping back. you almost forgot how debilitating this feeling is, fully consuming your body until you feel like you’re about to completely breakdown and crumble.

the fear and concern on your face immediately makes him frown, shaking his head adamantly as he pulls you closer to him.

“no, no, no, y/n, of course not,” he assures softly, his lips brushing against your head.

you feel his calming breaths in your hair, like he already knows from the slight waver in your voice and look on your face that you’re getting worked up and anxious.

the few moments of silence should make you more anxious but you can only focus on his breathing and the warmth from his body against you, trying to stay calm as you remember that this is san and he would never do or say anything to hurt you.

“i’ve just been thinking about some things and i wanna talk to you about it,” san says, breaking the silence and immediately making your stomach flip nervously. “it’s nothing bad, baby, i just... you know i always have your best interest in mind, right?”

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you turn to look at him, the soft look in his eye making you happy as much as it makes you sad.

because while you love seeing it, how sweet and thoughtful and truly kind he is, you know it’s also there because he thinks you’re about to lose your shit. and you haven’t lost your shit in quite some time.

“i-i know...”

he takes your face in his hands when your eyes start to wander, the quiet hum leaving his mouth making you look up at him again. the look in his eyes truly stirs something in you, tears burning your eyes even though you’re not even sure why yet.

“and you know i’ll never, ever hurt you?”

you nod again, feeling panic deep within your chest at where this conversation seems to be going.

“so what i’m about to suggest, i need you to hear me out, okay?”

he waits until you nod, his stomach sinking at the glossed over look in your eyes before he daringly opens his mouth again.

tells you that he thinks you living on your own while you start a new chapter of your life will be a good thing for you both. that learning to be independent and on your own will help you immensely in this new part of your life.

“you’ve been doing so good, y/n, and i’m so proud of you. you’ve started school and you work full time and you’re doing all the things you want to do. but we’re together all the time, baby, and i...i don’t know if that’s healthy, for either of us, you know?”

and you think to the average person, who hasn’t been abused and neglected and spent the last five years in normal, healthy circumstances, they would hear this and understand immediately.

that being alone and learning how to be on your own is a good, healthy thing that everyone needs to experience.

but all your brain can hear is he doesn’t wanna be with you anymore.

he’s tired of your brokenness and tired of looking after you all the time and needs some space from you; and while, you suppose, you can’t blame him, it doesn’t hurt you any less.

it doesn’t terrify you or upset you any less, even though you know his intentions are good; you can only feel unwanted and unworthy and like your time with someone so much better than you is up.

“is it...i just...do you not like it here? with me?”

did you not keep it clean enough? did you not cook enough, were the meals too frequently takeout and leftovers? you remember jungkook hated that, demanding the house be spotless and dinner be ready and homemade.

san would laugh at the question if this weren’t the current situation, a serious talk he’s been dreading having because he knows how you’re gonna take it at first.

but he loves being here and that’s the problem.

he would coddle you and love you and protect you for as long as you let him if it were up to him. but he knows that’s not what you need anymore, that you’re both not helping anyone if you continue to live your life in what became too comfortable and safe.

you deserve comfortable and safe but you also deserve to live happily and freely by yourself. and maybe that’s not his decision to make, he often thinks, but he certainly doesn’t think he’s helping you by enabling you to depend on him.

“baby, i love it here and i love you and i’ll never leave you until you tell me to,” san says, pressing a kiss to each cheek he prays tears don’t fall on in the next few minutes. “but i want you to be okay, love. i don’t want you to need me every night to sleep or think you need to ask my permission for things that are your choice.”

“is that- is that what this is about? that i asked you if i could go to school?” you ask meekly, the idea of talking back foreign but something you can’t control right now. “or is it because i’m in school?”

because maybe you’ve been too busy. maybe he feels like you neglected him. maybe he just wanted an out and this is it.

“of course it’s not because you’re in school,” san says, slight outrage in his voice as you even suggest that; he always tries to control his responses to you, knowing you’re dealing with years worth of manipulative behavior and maltreatment, but sometimes it does also get to him.

he was always supportive of your career and education, even when you were just friends and he admired you from afar.

“how could you think that?”

“because this is so random,” you squeak out, tears breaking through as the knot in your throat grows bigger. “i...i didn’t even know you were feeling this way and now you wanna stop seeing me.”

“i don’t wanna stop seeing you, y/n, when did i say that?” san asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you contemplatively.

“you said you don’t want to be together all the time...” you mutter out, feeling stupid and childish but not yet truly understanding what he means. you guys don’t fight at all and you’re always smiling and laughing together - isn’t it okay to be together all the time if good things like that are happening?

“y/n, i love you, of course i wanna still see you. but i just mean...living together the way we have these past months. you’ve never been alone. you’ve always depended on someone, right?”

you think back to your dysfunctional childhood, depending on alcoholic parents who never taught you how to fend for yourself until you fell into the arms of yet another abuser who you depended on even further.

restricted company and meals and communication, even restricted in what you could do outside the walls of your house.

“yes,” you nod, sniffling as you wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “but they’ve only ever hurt me. you never do.”

that fact makes san’s chest pang with hurt, his own eyes burning with tears now as he thinks about how much pain you’ve endured.

“i know, baby, and i never will. but i think this’ll be good for us. good for you, mostly, that’s always my mian concern.”

but you start to wonder how this could possibly be good the second the front door closes a few hours later, leaving you alone in your apartment that now feels far too cold and far too dark and far too empty.

his lack of presence is noticable immediately and it doesn’t take long for panic and sadness and all that existential dread you once felt so deeply start to come on.

he doesn’t want you, nobody wants you, and the only people who did want you hurt you.

it’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you cry silently, splashing your face with cold water after your puffy eyes can’t take it anymore. and when you get a good look at yourself in the mirror, tear-stained and blotchy and a big fucking mess, you can’t help but see that same girl who was trapped in that house with jungkook.

weak and afraid and horribly incapable of doing anything right. so similiar to the current state you’re in now, sinking down on the bathroom floor and crying into your hands again.

this could be about san leaving, you know it has something to do with it, but you’re also crying because you now see just how badly you’re still effected by everything.

you could be distracted by school and work and san but there’s still so much under the surface that you haven’t come to terms with.

so much so to the point that even san had to step in and do something about it, him still seeing signs that you’re not okay despite how much everyone in your life is trying with you.

and it makes you feel bad that you have so many supportive, lovely people in your life but still can’t find it in you to feel okay. to not depend on one singlar blonde man to make you feel happy or act as if without him, you’re gonna break.

because you can see he’s tired of it. if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have-

“y/n?”

his voice coupled with his fist hitting the door causes you to jump, at first thinking it’s a bittersweet trick your deluded little mind is playing on you. but then he knocks again, his sweet murmur of “y/n, please open the door,” causing you to cry out again.

hongjoong told him not to go, that he’d barely been home for an hour before he was already itching to rush back to you.

but he felt uneasy leaving the way he did in the first place, and then even more so when you didn’t answer his three messages and two facetime calls; he hated thinking that you were crying alone or feeling upset.

and it’s heartbreakingly evident when you reach up to open the door, curled up on the floor in tears, that that’s exactly how you feel.

“baby, no,” san hums lowly, immediately dropping to the floor so he can gather you in his lap.

it’s so much like the scene when you ran there after the final incident with jungkook, when you collapsed on the floor and finally told somebody about what you’d been going through.

what happened?" he asks desperately, voice strained and wavering.

but you can only shake your head and cry. cry for how long you've been dealing with this alone and how you feel trapped and how if you don't tell someone tonight.

"he's gonna kill me," you sob out as you shake your head frantically now, "i-i he's gonna kill me," is all you can repeat through ragged breaths.

san can only act on instinct, sitting down cross-legged and holding his arms out slightly before you crash into him. he shakily inhales when your head rests on his shoulder, sobs muffled by his shirt as he feels tears promptly soak through the material.

but he can only sit there, hand on the back of your head as he rocks you soothingly in his lap back and forth.

he listens to your sobs with a broken heart, tears stinging his own eyes because he had suspected something was going on for months and just sat here and did nothing. and now here you are, broken and bruised and in fear for your life.

"i can't go back there," you cry out, "i-he's gonna-"

"no one is gonna hurt you, anymore," he mumbles lowly in your ear, "i'm not gonna let that happen."

“you’re- you’re gonna leave me,” you whimper into his shirt, the only sound in your bathroom for the past few minuets your crying and his soothing hums. “you’re not gonna wanna deal with me anymore and leave and then i’ll really be alone and i’m so-”

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m not gonna let that happen,” he mumbles in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses his lips to your head. he rocks you back and forth so similarly to that night, his hand running up and down your back as he tries to get you to calm down.

“we’re gonna get you help. real help. and we’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. you’re gonna be okay, my love.”

one year later:

you look back at the breakdown in your bathroom and are always surprised that you don’t feel embarrassed.

you think that was the moment when you finally realized how much you’d gone through and how much you really had to sort through. that you could distract yourself all you want and depend on san as much as you felt you needed but you still had things to work through.

it took you about four therapist consultations to find the right one, eventually finding a sweet older woman who reminded you so much of your boss at the cafe. she listened to you and encouraged you and helped you find so much strength within yourself, you regret not taking your lawyer’s advice sooner about seeing a professional.

you still had bad days, of course, but now you’ve learned how to properly cope with them. cope with the stressors of everyday life, like the shouting of voices and the slamming of doors and san not being by your side 24/7.

and san, little to your surprise, had done the right thing in saying you needed to learn to be independent.

it scared you at first, living alone and being alone with your thoughts and memories that tried to haunt you every chance they got. but now your life is so full of happy ones that it makes everything a little bit easier; you now love the freedom of living alone and have come to enjoy the peaceful silences of your apartment.

you now have so many things to laugh and feel happy about, like mingi and seonghwa’s obsession with gardening (even though they’ve moved on to vegetables now and have yet to combat the battle with squirrels eating their tomatoes).

you have school and classes and friends that you made, making straight a’s while also balancing time with your study group, the boys and mrs. kim and your official boyfriend san.

there are still some days when you wake up and feel a sinking feeling in your stomach that you think might be there forever, a certain smell or certain pain richoetting through your body that will remind you of what you went through and survived.

but you know that you’ll be able to get through it, not only because you’re strong enough now but because you still have san to lean on - the boy in question currently with his arms wrapped tight around your waist and snoring down your neck.

you can’t help the small smile on your face as you turn in his hold, your finger reaching out to trace the contours of his face.

the warm, overwhelming feeling in your chest should scare you but it makes you feel even more happy and content with life, shutting your eyes immediately when his brown eyes meet yours.

his loud chuckle fills the room before he lips attack your neck, quiet giggles leaving your mouth that only spur the blonde on more.

“i saw that,” he mumbles playfully, smiling against your skin as your giggles get louder. “good morning, baby.”

you pull back and smile at the boy staring down at you lovingly, the late-morning sun beaming through your window reminding you so much of the first time you saw him.

heard his sweet, friendly voice that you immediately trusted and probably fell in love with right there.

"those are coming out really nice!" you hear a voice say from the yard next door.

you shoot your head to the side to see a young man standing there, probably about your age, eyes kind and dimples poking out of his cheeks as he holds an overflowing white garbage bag.

your lips quirk up ever so slightly, probably being mistaken for your mouth twitching before you give him a tiny bow.

"thank you."

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @minbinwhore @chrryhwa @chogiout @marksflvr @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @toffee-hwa

#the italic flashbacks always get messed up on mobile!!!#srry hope its not confusing #san #san angst #san fluff #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #san scenarios #ateez imagines #san imagines

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random-thought-depository · 3 years

Text

Tangent from my last post: reading over this and thinking about it, I’ve pinpointed a disagreement that I think reveals a fundamental disagreement I have with the ideas I was responding to there.

Seph’s essay talks about liberal sexual consent practices as requiring a shift toward a more Culture A style of social interaction; requiring a willingness to actively assert your own interests instead of engaging in Culture B accommodationism. And that’s true, but I immediately recognized that it’s incomplete in a way that I think fundamentally distorts what’s happening, though it took me a while to think out exactly how. Saying “no” involves a degree of Culture A type assertiveness, but respecting that “no” and pro-actively making sure your partner is enjoying things involves an attentiveness to feelings, an accommodationism, and an attentiveness to maintaining harmony that’s more Culture B.

Like, if you drew up two columns, one labeled “Macho Republican Dad Boomerpost Stuff” and one labeled “Softy SJW Stuff,” and started sorting things into those columns by which group they’re more stereotypically associated with (bacon, guns, capitalism, Christianity, complaining about “cancel culture,” and calling people sissies as an insult into the Republican Dad column, tofu, queerness, feminism, socialism, veganism, accusing people of microaggressions, and being a Wiccan into the SJW column, etc.), I think liberal sexual norms placing a high premium on explicit consent would definitely stereotypically belong in the “SJW” column. And in this context I think that’s revealing.

I think what’s happening here is fundamentally orthogonal to Culture A vs. Culture B. I think, like a lot of left vs. right divides, it fundamentally comes down to hierarchy vs. egalitarianism. Liberal sexual norms emphasizing consent are a rejection of the pecking order method of simply resolving sexual conflicts of interests in favor of the person with more power, whether that power is social status, physical strength, emotional intelligence, or just being more willing to press for their interests. Culture A vs. Culture B is fundamentally orthogonal to what’s really going on here; trying to understanding this issue through that lens is at best like trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of doctrinal disputes between different types of Christianity (you may get some genuine insights, but you’ve mistaken the fringes of the conflict for its core), and at worst like trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of doctrinal disputes between Sunni and Shia Islam.

Actually I think the “trying to understand the US Civil War through the lens of Christian doctrine disputes” may be a good analogy, because I think this does tie back to the “the left/liberal side of the culture war is waging a war against Culture A” hypothesis in a way that reveals how that idea is not exactly wrong but misses an important dimension of what’s happening. I think what’s happening is that hierarchy is more explicit and explicitly enforced in Culture A, and therefore as society becomes less like a pecking order hierarchy tends to assume Culture B characteristics.

Culture A is where you find the human hierarchies that look the most like actual pecking orders, which are maintained by literal physical pecking. It’s where you find the openly brutal world of bosses screaming “the leads aren’t weak, you are!” into a cringing subordinate’s face, cops quietly taking an uncooperative suspect into a convenient alley and roughing him up a little to “teach him to respect our authority,” gangsters beating somebody up for being insufficiently deferential to them, some 6′3 250 pound guy in the grips of road rage punching some 5′7 150 pound guy in the face over a smashed bumper, teachers disciplining students by giving them hard blows on the palm with a ruler, a swaggering thug threatening a woman with physical violence because she had the effrontery to object to him groping her, and jocks having some fun inflicting casual physical abuse on the nerds in the locker room and on the playground. Hierarchies in Culture A are often maintained by physical violence and the threat thereof and put-downs and other explicit verbal bullying. When somebody in Culture A thinks you’ve gotten a bit above your station and wants to put your in your place, they’re likely to either actually use physical violence against you, explicitly threaten you with it, or explicitly insult you. Abuse in Culture A tends to look like our stereotypical picture of some swaggering thug openly terrorizing somebody who has some sort of vulnerability.

By contrast, hierarchies in Culture B tend to operate under more polite fictions of relative egalitarianism, cooperativeness, and non-violence. Enforcement of Culture B hierarchies tends to be less overtly violent. Culture B hierarchies are more likely to be covert and legible only to somebody with inside knowledge (e.g. you’ve ostensibly got a group of equals, but some are more equal than others because of advantages that mostly aren’t explicitly acknowledged). Culture B tends to have more of an ideal that coercive power can only be legitimately exercised for moral reasons, while Culture A tends to have more of a “master morality” culture where power is seen as worthy of respect in itself (Culture A is what gave us “Chad” and “alpha” as aspirational ideals), which is why bullying in Culture B tends to have a moralistic and fearmongering nature (see: Tumblr call-out posts) while bullying in Culture A tends to follow a more “master morality” logic of “our victim is weak and aesthetically displeasing to us, and that in itself makes them deserve punishment” - though much like “Culture A rewards strength and technical skills, Culture B rewards social skills and popularity” that’s a dichotomy that can easily be overplayed; most human hierarchies come with a hefty dose of community-minded moralism (even if the community is a pirate ship or criminal gang or something like that), and social skills and popularity are hugely important in almost any culture. Culture B is for people who wouldn’t dream of doing anything so barbaric as yelling at you or punching you because they’re mad at you; they’d complain to the human resources department who’d force you to spend a Friday evening listening to somebody lecture you about the need to “make our store a welcoming environment for our valued customers.”

An archetypal abusive Culture A authority figure is the macho thuggish “respect mah authoritay!” cop. An archetypal abusive Culture B authority figure is the gaslighty Nice Lady Therapist. The former is more-or-less open about the fact that he sees himself as above you in the pecking order and if you dispute that he’ll be delighted to enforce the pecking order in approximately the way chickens do it. The latter pretends to be your friend (and perhaps believes themselves to be that), and expends a great deal of effort tailoring their pecking order enforcement to not look like pecking order enforcement - significantly, they might like to be as openly brutal as the “respect mah authoritay!” cop is, but in strong Culture B that social strategy just doesn’t work; their social strategy represents a compromise with socially influential ideals of egalitarianism and non-violence, a tribute that vice pays to virtue (less charitably, it may simply reflect playing to different strengths and trying to minimize different weaknesses, e.g. the thuggish cop may have chosen that social strategy because he’s a physically powerful but not particularly socially intelligent Biff Tannen type, while the Nice Lady Therapist may have chosen that social strategy because she’s a socially intelligent and Machiavellian but physically feeble 4′10 woman).

In short, Culture B tends to both meaningfully soften the blows of pecking order enforcement and obfuscate them. It follows that as equalizing movements gain ground and explicit pecking order logic becomes more taboo, hierarchy will increasingly take on Culture B characteristics. In 1700, if you angered your boss in some petty interpersonal way he might have whipped you, which was his right as your master. Today, if you anger your boss in some petty interpersonal way she might think a little about how to get revenge on you in a way that doesn’t risk blowback if you take it up with the union, and then find some excuse to arrange for you to have to attend some mandatory HR remedial training that isn’t officially a punishment but let’s be real, totally is. Maybe in 2200 you won’t have a boss because you’ll work in an officially egalitarian syndicalist union, but there will be some union members who are “more equal than others” because of personal connections or charisma or some combination of both, and if you anger one of them in a petty interpersonal way they might through whisper networks arrange a quiet campaign to make sure the union votes against your requests for your favorite foods on the workplace lunch menu.

I guess I’m staking out a position as a hedging kind-of partisan of Culture B here. There’s a lot of talk about how Culture B gets an undeserved good reputation and can be just as unfair and cruel as Culture A but in a more insidious way, and I’m sympathetic to that and I think there’s a lot of truth to that, but, y’know, if I had to choose between pecking order enforcement that has to maintain a plausible veneer of being something else and just open undiluted sadistic pecking order enforcement, I think I’d prefer the former. I think even just adding in a requirement of hypocrisy improves things, because it forces pecking order enforcement to optimize for plausible deniability instead of sadism and effective tyranny. Admittedly, as somebody who finds this very relatable I have a strong personal bias here.

An illustrative personal anecdote: the usual stereotype of high school is that bullied kids (or at least bullied boys) suffer a lot of casual physical abuse, but I noticed that in my school there was a lot of verbal bullying but mercifully little physical abuse; the worst that was likely to happen in terms of physical violence was somebody tripping you up or throwing a box of kleenix at you or spitting their drink at you or something like that. I suspect the reason was that blatant physical violence was pretty much the only form of bullying the school administration would reliably punish (though they’d likely punish the victim right along with the perpetrator), and that’s why it usually wasn’t done. I suspect what happened is that stereotype of chronic casual physical abuse reflects what schools were like when the baby boomers were growing up (and boomers then wrote fiction etc. that reflected that experience that shaped the pop culture stereotype), but then anti-bullying reforms came along and by the late ‘90s and early ‘00s they’d achieved one great success: mostly eliminating that schoolyard culture of casual physical violence. And that was a very incomplete fix, just addressing the tip of the iceberg of the problem and probably often redirecting bullying into psychological abuse rather than actually reducing it... but, y’know, I’m really glad my middle and high school experience didn’t conform to that pop culture stereotype of the school dweeb getting regularly beaten up by four or six bigger kids. I had an awful time in middle and high school, but judging from pop culture stereotypes it could have been so much worse, and if suspensions for kids who punched other kids is what created that difference, then I’m profoundly grateful for that reform.

I think the left is kinda-sorta waging war on Culture A as a side-effect of its war on pecking order culture, in which high-status people enjoy the advantages of Culture A while low-status people labor under the disadvantages of Culture B. It’s not an accident that Culture A is associated with men and Culture B is associated with women. Accommodation (sometimes to the point of self-harm) is a survival strategy for low-status people in a social structure that resembles a pecking order; if you’re going to lose the fight, it often makes sense to pre-emptively accept a settlement that favors the interests of the stronger person (often to the extent of trying to anticipate the stronger person’s wants, performing even the brain work of figuring out their preferences for them). Competitiveness is a social strategy for upward mobility in a pecking order society or defense of a place near the top of the pecking order (it also has more pro-social functions so we probably want to keep it around in some form, but social competition is very much part of its function). Women tend to be reluctant to openly advocate for their personal interests because for much of history a woman openly advocating for her personal interests was likely to provoke status-guarding retaliation from men. Men tend to be reluctant to show vulnerability and see doing so as feminine because for much of history other men were likely to perceive a vulnerable man as an opportunity to increase their own social status by lowering the vulnerable man’s social status, and as a rule of thumb to lower a man’s social status was to give him a social status more like a woman’s. In the context of a pecking order society, a lot of Culture B makes sense as social strategies for people at the bottom of the pecking order with little realistic shot of escaping its lower levels, and a lot of Culture A makes sense as social strategies for people at the top of the pecking order and people at the bottom or middle of the pecking order who have a realistic shot at using high-risk high-reward social strategies to move up in the hierarchy. I think there’s some complicating factors around reproductive dynamics that explain why this is a gendered thing instead of just a class thing, but I won’t get into that here. So it makes sense that as society becomes less like a pecking order that process will involve shifts toward Culture A in some areas and shifts toward Culture B in other areas, because those cultures are probably both somewhat maladaptive in a more egalitarian social context.

A relevant example is that for much of history vigorously advocating their own sexual interests was often very risky for women, so Culture B primes women to pre-emptively accept a settlement that favors the man’s sexual interests, so liberal consent norms work better if women develop more assertiveness about their own interests, which looks kind of Culture A-ish. At the same time, women now have more leverage to effectively demand that men perform pro-social Culture B behaviors of accommodation, empathy, and consideration for the feelings and interests of others in the context of heterosexual sex.

----------

Tangential aside: I think thinking of hierarchy as the fundamental tension point of the left vs. right conflict illustrates a way that post I was responding to might be kind of too meta and you might get an illuminating perspective by stepping back from all that meta-level theorizing about fundamental epistemological differences and looking at the object level.

If you analyze left-wing “cancel culture” at the object level, what does it look like it’s trying to do? It seems to me that it’s trying to lower the social acceptability of what leftists perceive as defenses of hierarchy. Who are the stereotypical targets of campus “cancel culture”? They might be a “race realist” who’s very eager to tell you about how he thinks certain human groups have lower IQs or other congenital traits maladaptive to modern society and darkly hint about political implications. They might be a business libertarian economist who wants to stump for the gospel of the free market. They might be somebody who has a habit of delivering the academic equivalent of boomerposts about kids these days with their coddling and their trigger warnings and their genders. They might be some principled “free speech” type who seems to spend a lot of their energy white knighting for neo-Nazis and other far-right types. They might be somebody who you’d think would be relatively unobjectionable to leftists but who’s said something that can be uncharitably interpreted as bigoted at some point. Besides raw factionalism, the obvious common point is something that can be reasonably interpreted as a defense of hierarchy. The “race realist” at least implicitly says “some groups are smarter or otherwise better than others and may therefore be rightfully deserving of privilege.” The business libertarian economist at least implicitly says “if you’re poor because you can’t get a job or can’t get a job that pays well, that’s basically your problem and the system working as intended; a society with great inequalities of wealth and status may not be ideal but it’s at least better than all the realistic alternatives.” The academic boomerposter at least implicitly says “some people struggle in our education system because of personal emotional sensitivities; their weakness is their own problem and us more functional people have no obligation to accommodate it, if that harms them it may be regrettable but it’s basically the system working as it should to weed out those unfit for it.” The principled free speech proponent at least implicitly says “wanting to kill the Jews and re-enslave the blacks and have white Sharia should be a tolerated opinion in our society, at least insofar as it should not be legally persecuted, and I am willing to devote considerable efforts to defending that principle.” The basically unobjectionable liberal who happens to have a dodgy comment or three in their social media record at least implicitly says “I don’t think I should get too much blowback for once implying that [insert group of concern here] maybe deserves the jackboot to the face.”

And sure, you can dispute the fairness of such judgements, but the over-arching project outlined by these targets seems fairly obvious: to raise the social costs of what leftists perceive as defending pecking orders.

And, like, yeah, there’s some meta-level differences about the role of tolerance and debate too, but I suspect a lot of the disagreement is really more object-level, over how objectionable certain opinions actually are, e.g. a lot of the dispute over “cancelling” the business libertarian guy is probably going to be over 1) how objectionable defense of hierarchy actually is, 2) whether libertarian beliefs are actually defenses of hierarchy.

#people are complicated #my big ideas #leftism #culture #warning: long #cw: bullying #cw: violence #cw: rape #cw: bigotry #politics

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 3 years

Text

Hey, Little Songbird

Chapter 16 - Ao3

Felix could only hope his mother would pardon him for thinking such harsh words, but he felt as though the situation merited it. Because this? Was bullshit.

He could understand, to a degree, where Marinette was coming from. Felix wasn’t a good person; ergo, put Felix in situations where he would be forced to do good to make him confront the benefits of kindness and charity and hugging snot-nosed orphans or whatnot. He could understand becoming a force for good; his family had the money and the influence to improve the live of the less fortunate, and he’d understood that ever since his mother enlisted his help with choosing Graham Films annual donations. He could stand losing some of his own money just to hear Marinette gush about the charity he chose, and how that money would be used (all information he knew, of course; you don’t donate without knowing exactly where your money is going).

What he could not stand is having all his time with Marinette interrupted by Cesaire.

Marinette’s reasoning was that she wanted her two friends to get along, but Felix suspected she just liked to see him suffer. Sure, he did Cesaire a favor once, that doesn’t mean they like each other! In fact, he would go out on a limb and say that Cesaire definitely hated him. Why? …He wasn’t sure. If it had been a few weeks ago, he would have said she was jealous he had been Marinette’s friend while she had been led astray, but now that he’d gotten to—bleck—know Cesaire, he was certain it wasn’t in the girl’s character.

He took the opportunity to ask Cesaire the next time Marinette forced them to work together on a project—this time, cleaning up the content of the Ladyblog. Apparently Felix’s demeanor would help push the blog in a more professional direction.

Cesaire’s fingers paused on the keyboard at his question. Even Marinette, who had been working on a separate project, stopped to listen in. “I don’t hate you,” she lied.

“Yes, you do,” Felix corrected. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, before your near suspension and after. You hate me, and I’d like to know why.”

“Felix, she doesn’t hate you—” Marinette tried, but Cesaire stopped her.

“Marinette, I appreciate you trying to mediate, but you don’t have to right now”—She flashed a smile at Marinette—“Felix, I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you.”

“Okay. Why?”

She drew back, shock crossing her face before she shut the emotion down. “Felix, the first time we met, I was an akuma. An akuma you caused. I still don’t know why you impersonated Adrien, but since you supported Marinette when I didn’t, I’m willing to tolerate you despite that.”

Oh. “I had forgotten that,” he admitted, looking away.

“You… forgot?” She didn’t believe him, it was clear in her voice.

“Yes. I was having quite the bad day myself.”

Cesaire looked ready to say something, but Marinette placed a hand on her shoulder. “Felix, I’ve been meaning to ask you… Why did you impersonate Adrien that day? Knowing you now… it doesn’t seem like something you would do without a reason.”

Felix pursed his lips. True, what he did that day had been… poorly thought out. He would even say that he’d acted rashly, but to be honest, he had planned it from the beginning. The entire time his father was on his death bed, the entire time Felix watched him die, Adrien was calling and emailing him, talking about his friends and modeling and school like Felix hadn’t begged him and Uncle Gabriel to come over and visit, to support them in their time of need like his family had done when Aunt Emilie went missing. Perhaps it was cruel that he and Mother tried to take back their family rings on the anniversary of Aunt Emilie’s disappearance, but it was cruel that they didn’t come to his father’s funeral because… because of a fashion show!

So Felix told them. Despite himself, he told the girls about his father and how much he loved him, and how it broke his heart to see the strongest man he’d ever met waste away in front of his eyes. How his mother cried for months as she sat at his bedside. How their company suffered with the CEO dying and his mother beside herself with grief, how Felix was forced to delegate power to those loyal to his father and their family, trying to keep their business afloat and still in their name.

“Adrien… is very cruel in his ignorance,” Felix said. “He’s more than happy to ignore other people’s problems until they affect him, then he’ll do whatever he can to solve the problem. And I… wanted him to be affected.” He shook his head, picking at Marinette’s bedspread. “I thought that if I caused him to lose all his friends… Well, that plan backfired, so there’s no need to go into detail. I should feel lucky that I got at least one of the rings back.”

“Rings?”

Felix showed off the one he’d stolen from Gabriel, the silver band glinting in the sunlight. The metal seemed to hum against the warmth of his fingers. “The wedding bands of Gabriel and Emilie Agreste were originally family heirlooms of the Graham de Vanily estate. Originally, they were supposed to be used when the eldest child, my mother, got married. Unfortunately, that was impossible.”

“Wait, your mom is a Graham de Vanily?” Cesaire asked. “So, your dad married into the family?”

“That’s correct; Grandfather arranged it back when Father was a mere director in our company.” Felix shook his head. “Mother and Father were supposed to wear these on their wedding day. But Aunt Emilie stole them for her own marriage.”

Marinette gasped. “No! Why would she do that!?”

“I have no idea; if Aunt Emilie ever said why, Mother certainly has never mentioned it. My grandparents disowned her for the theft—though, to be honest, they were already on the edge because Aunt Emilie was marrying someone they didn’t approve of—and it was only Mother’s intervention that kept them from reporting her to the police.” He twisted the ring around his finger. “These rings mean a lot to my family, to my mother… I know it hurt her that she and Father never wore them, even if Father created near replicas for their 3rd anniversary. She never wore hers though… I think she thought that if she did, it would be acknowledging that the rings would never come home.”

“What’s so special about these rings, anyway?” Cesaire asked, moving closer to look at, but thankfully not touch, his ring. “It’s plain silver.”

“Honestly, I have no idea. They’ve been in the family for centuries, and Mother said that you could only understand how precious they are until you and your love both wear them, but…”

“It’s not the value of the rings,” Marinette finished. “It’s what they represent.”

“Precisely. Aunt Emilie stole them to begin with. Now that she’s gone—and honestly, I’m not entirely convinced she didn’t just leave Uncle Gabriel—the rings should come home, no matter how sentimental Uncle is about them. He has made it very clear that he doesn’t consider us family, so there’s no need to keep family heirlooms.” Felix clenched his fist. “I already stole one of the rings; I can steal the other one too.”

Marinette was shaken, but Cesaire immediately nodded her head in agreement. “Go for it.”

“Alya!”

“What? If they were stolen to begin with, then there’s no problem with him stealing them back. Besides, it’s not like Gabriel can report him to the police. There is evidence that the rings were originally your family’s, right? Like, pictures of your grandparents wearing them, or even official documentation?”

Huh. It seems Cesaire is more than she first appeared. “That’s correct, we have both.”

“Then he can’t do much. At worst, he can try to pass them off as a different set of jewelry since the ring is so generic, but that would just draw out the investigation and bring more evidence against him to light. Even claiming that you were the one to steal the ring could be difficult to prove unless he got it on camera.” She frowned. “Getting to the other ring will be difficult though, since Gabriel will likely protect it.”

“Plus, if he knows you stole it, he’s not going to let you into the house,” agreed Marinette. Both he and Cesaire exchanged at look at her abetting. “What? You act like I’ve never stolen anything before!”

“But you… haven’t?”

A cat-like grin stretched across Cesaire’s face. “Oh? She hasn’t told you that story yet?”

A groan. “Alya, no!”

A smirk twitched across his lips despite himself. Perhaps working with Cesaire wouldn’t be so bad after all…

Taglist: @graduatedmelon @novicevoice @dur55 @kris-pines04 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @moonlightstar64 @bee-a-garbage-shipper @sol-o-shade @kittyotakunoir666 @tinyterror333 @allieoftheenemy @marichat00 @xgxmxtx @two-faced-biatch @feliciakainzofspades @evil-cricket @emilytopaz @spicybelladonna @chocolateherringtacofan @user00000003 @wannajointhecrabcult @happymonster-pants @duquesapincarrasca @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @sxltinette @kittydemon9000 @thetrashypanda423

#hey little songbird #felinette #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #alya sugar #adrien salt #ml salt #miraculous ladybug #mlb #Alya: You can have a little crime... as justice.

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spade-riddles · 3 years

Text

Submission: Adjusting expectations

Okay, guys. Wading in here where it’s possible no-one wants me, but … here goes.

We - Kaylors - are in a hard place right now. People feel hurt, they feel hopeless. They feel like they were led on by the likes of Spade. I’m not here to invalidate any of the feelings that come from seeing Karlie and Taylor play out this charade.

But I think we (collectively, as a fandom) need to take a breath and ask if any of this is really as bad or unfixable as we think it is. Because, for me, the recent stunting is hard to stomach but not truly surprising. On some level this is how I expected Karlie and Taylor to handle both the birth of the baby and the launch of the rerecorded albums. As much I wanted to believe in the idea of spring breaking loose and bringing with it a fervent revolution … I could see the pieces still in play on the board and I doubted it was coming.

I think the problem is that there was a split between the optimist and pragmatist sides of the fandom, over the last year or so. To be clear - I’m not judging the optimist side of the fandom. Not at all. Taylor has pulled wildcard moves before, and emotions run so high in all this, especially with a baby involved now, that I don’t blame people for wanting to believe the best. But it reached a stage where some of the things people were trying to talk themselves into were just wildly unrealistic. And when that happens, of course you’re going to get hurt. It’s inevitable.

But let’s really look at this for a second. We should have known that neither Karlie nor Taylor was going to be shaving her beard in March. Ditching Jerk right after or just before the birth would have been too soon for Karlie. It’s not unusual for a celeb marriage to fizzle out within a year of the birth, but before the baby even arrives? That would be weird, and would draw attention just when it seems Kaylor don’t want it. They just had a baby. That’s an adjustment in itself, and Karlie is suffering enough social media hate on top of that. I wouldn’t blame her for just wanting to take a break and lie low during this difficult time. And unfortunately, for Karlie, that means maintaining the status quo of the situation she put herself in with Jerk. She may be doing the bare minimum to maintain it, but if she wants to avoid attention, she has to make it seem like everything between her and her “husband” is normal. And that she’s trying to make it work, which I believe will be important later. Good people try to make it work, even in bad relationships.

Toe wasn’t going anywhere either. Taylor had relied on him so heavily during the promotion of Folklore, with the William Bowery narrative, that she was almost backed into a corner. She had to give some allusion to his air quotes “creative input” and their so-called happy relationship, or her failure to do so would have become the story and overshadowed her night. The headlines would have either been break-up speculation or complaints that she didn’t give him his due. We think the cutesy coverage after she named him in her acceptance speech was bad, but negative headlines have a far longer shelf life and can take on a life of their own. They would have been worse. Whatever we might think of Taylor’s actions, Folklore is one of her best albums and she deserved to have her night.

So, on to the announcement of the birth. This is a tricky one, and again, I completely understand why people reacted so badly against it. It was everything we as a fandom said we didn’t want. It was Jerk using the baby for personal good PR. But I have to be honest here. I always thought we were kidding ourselves believing he would NEVER be seen with the baby or implied to be the father. I do believe Karlie is doing her damnedest to minimize the digital footprint of his involvement and keep her actual baby out of it. But he was always going to get to bask in the glow of playing daddy for a while. It’s the trade off Kaylor made when they used him to shore up their closet.

This is also why I increasingly suspect the timing of the announcement got the green light from Kaylor too. If Jerk was always going to be assumed to be the father of Karlie’s baby, then there was always going to have to be a birth announcement that incorporated him somehow - unless the girls were ready to answer awkward questions, and it doesn’t seem like we’re there yet. So the best way to minimize the damage is to have his moment of glory overshadowed by a bigger win for Taylor. It worked pretty well actually. Even on Kaylor blogs the stunt was mostly buried by Taylor content.

I know a lot of fans feel gaslit by all the hints, but I do think there’s a possibility Taylor really didn’t grasp how hurt Kaylors would be. From her perspective, she “fed” fans three times over that night. She gave us a beautiful performance, a gorgeous red carpet moment, and a win to celebrate. I think it’s possible she really didn’t realize the double whammy of stunting that night would make it all feel worthless for many.

Taylor is in an awkward position. As a consequence of Kaylor retreating into the closet, the support base for them has shrunk. (When I use the words “Kaylor fandom”, I refer to this support base.) I would say Kaylor fandom consists of two parts. There is a silent portion, who observe events and comment anonymously, but don’t say anything “on main”. And then there are the small corps of true believers, who think Karlie and Taylor are still together and the baby is theirs. This latter group do most of the actual talking about Kaylor, but they tend to be pretty battle-hardened. They’ve been around for years, they never believe any of the stunts and their capacity to be hurt by them is, as a result, pretty limited. These Kaylors criticize sometimes, but they tend to fall back in line eventually and mostly adopt a “let’s wait and see how this all shakes out” approach. The problem is that I would say these “chilled” Kaylors are the minority. For their own sanity they curate their blog experience and often don’t post the more negative anons they get. Which is fine, but if you were looking at it from the outside, I could see how it might create an impression that the fandom as a whole can roll with the punches. And for a lot of the silent majority, that’s not the case.

But again, I can see how Taylor might not necessarily know that. She went quiet after the Grammys, when I might have expected more celebratory posts from her. If I had to guess, I’d say she didn’t expect the backlash. I’m especially noticing a backlash against her for allowing Karlie to take so many hits while her own reputation has never been better. And I can’t defend her on that one, except to say I hope she has a plan. But I understand where people are coming from when they say the songs aren’t enough and actions speak louder than words. It’s tough to watch.

Still, we’re in a position we should realistically have been able to see coming. We should have known Jerk wasn’t going to be out of the picture immediately after the birth. This is one of those things nobody likes, but maybe we all just have to be patient on. I don’t see Karlie busting out of the closet to admit her marriage was a fake, or testifying to the FBI. I think she’ll just let her marriage quietly fall apart, as many real marriages did during the pandemic. And for that to work, she needs to make it look like didn’t throw away a family unit lightly. Hence the “I tried” post, the social media break, and the suggestions of spending time with Jerk’s family. All of this can be spun later into a narrative of Karlie having tried to make it work, only to never really be accepted. The hate online affected her mental health and she gradually realized how unhappy she’d become and decided she needed to break free and find her old self again for her baby’s sake. This is the most likely narrative for Karlie’s freedom and it’s one that could work - but it’s going to take time to unfold. Personally, I’m giving it a year. If we don’t see a separation by then, and definitive moves to a reunited Kaylor, I’ll be bowing out. I’ll still know what I believe the truth to be, but I won’t see the need to devote my energy to defending it. ,

Meanwhile, the masters rerecords are about to be released, and Taylor has invested a lot in their success. Because of this, I can’t envision her coming out until at least the big three (Fearless, 1989, and Red) have dropped. She might drop hints, but I don’t expect anything earth-shattering. Even the order of the album releases seems to confirm this. She’s breaking out the big guns first.

I’ve seen people speculate that because Rep can’t be rerecorded until 2022, Taylor will hold off on any coming out until then. And I’m not so sure of that. Yes, people listening to the album for clues would give Scott and Scooter money, but if we’re being honest, a fair amount of people are probably listening to those albums already, regardless of the drama. Those sleazeballs are profiting from Rep, full stop. But if Taylor profits more, from her bigger albums, she still wins. And she can still put out a Taylor’s version of Rep with vault tracks and collabs, to seduce people away from the Big Machine version in early 2022. Honestly, I think there’s a good chance Taylor would consider this is a worthwhile trade-off anyway, if it meant she got to live a more open life with Karlie - and most crucially, begin to repair Karlie’s reputation. As children get older and the world begins to leave the pandemic behind, it becomes harder to live behind closed doors. I guess we’ll find out how Taylor finds the reality of such a life, and what she considers worth sacrificing to step away from it.

All this to say: I can’t predict the future more than anyone else, but I don’t think the situation we’re in now is irreparable, and if we’re being really objective, I don’t think it’s even surprising. I do think Taylor should give us something, if she wants to keep us around. No-one can live on a complete absence of hope, and as I’ve stated, letting the fandom dwindle to this extent has its own dangers. But I think we also need to keep our time frames realistic, even if it means rejecting lifelines like the Spade riddles. We shouldn’t expect Karlie to be free of Jerk for around a year, and we shouldn’t expect Taylor to do anything much beyond general music promo until at least the big three have dropped. Sucks to say it, I know. But at least this way we won’t be disappointed, and if Kaylor do pull a wild card and move towards freedom, we can be pleasantly surprised.

Just my two cents.

___________________

Well written and fair arguments on our reactions and expectations. I had typed up more, but I will let others post their comments before I chime in.

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weirdoldmanhoho · 3 years

Note

do u have any fic recs?

Sorry it took me years to answer this! The truth was I really hadn't read many FMA fics (at least not since the FF days) and was waiting until I actually had some recs to give.

And now I have some! My list will surprise no one, I'm sure.

Soul Friends by KyberHearts

“They were not always, and simply, two minds in one body. Towards the latter part of their alliance, especially in the heat of battle and warmongering, their souls could not distinguish where the prince began and the sin ended.”

Ling Yao returns to Xing to seal his fate as the next Emperor and sets his plans for reunification and peace in motion.

Elsewhere, Alphonse Elric reconciles with the very Truth that stole his body.

I absolutely love the way this fic writes post-canon Alphonse and his relationship with Truth.

Damaged by xmypandabear

'"He's still in the hospital too, with the Lieutenant," Alphonse said dully. "Blood loss - someone slit her throat..." Ed stared up at the ceiling, remembered the scientist with the gold tooth, and shuddered at the image his brain conjured of the Lieutenant lying on the floor. "But Mei helped her! So, they're sharing a room - the Colonel and Hawkeye, I mean, not Mei, 'cause the Colonel can't use his hands yet, so she's helping him..."

"His hands?" Ed tried to remember.

"It's how they forced him to do it," Al whispered. "They pinned him down so he couldn't move."

Ed fought back nausea. The sense of wrong, wrong, wrong pervaded every sense of his being. How the fuck was any of that equivalent exchange?'

Love me a good post-promised day healing and processing fic. This one focuses a lot on how Al, Ed, Winry, and Roy are all doing immediately post-promised day and the relationships between all those characters.

Joining of Hands by ehmazing

If you're not breaking a couple of laws, is it really an Elric wedding?

Truly, the best thing about an AlMei wedding is all the hijinks and complications the come from foreign customs and marrying into royalty.

Legends by Elfpen

Alphonse Elric has been living and studying in Xing for a little more than a year and a half. Now, Ling has asked him - ordered him - to take on a new responsibility and fill the shoes vacated by Van Hohenheim four centuries ago. But what use are legends, really, when they're all frauds? The Son of Heaven and the Son of the Western Sage see it differently.

You ever find a fic that just feels completely catered to you and your interests? I love everything about this fic. Alphonse in Xing and the weird politics he has to maneuver as not only an incredibly skilled foreign alchemist but a close friend of the emperor's - all at a young age. His relationship with Hohenheim and the grief and confusion that comes from never really getting to KNOW Hohenheim and now having to come face to face with the lasting impact his father left on a foreign country. Ling scheming. It's all very, very good.

The Principle of Mentalism by The-Immortal-Moon (LunaKat)

There’s a woman with a wrench and a penchant for alcoholism, and what he doesn’t know is that she’s going to change everything.

Another fic that feels like it was written specifically for my interests. This one explores Pinako and Hohenheim's first meeting and how a rowdy mechanic from Resembool and a reserved guilt-written immortal from Xerxes ever became friends in the first place. Features Hohenheim and his one million soul friends and a young awkward Pinako who I want to give SUCH a big hug to. I love it so much.

We'll be Holding on Forever by zipadeea

"Hohenheim left them to save the world. But Dad loved them more than everything in the world."

AU where Alphonse gets his body back a little earlier on the Promised Day.

It changes nothing.

It changes everything.

Read this if you want to cry. It focuses on Ed and Hohenheim's relationship and it is full of pain but also healing and understanding. Great quick read.

ticket stubs and your diaries by nerdywriiterchild

Alphonse Elric is almost fifteen. He will never know Xerxes.

This one is short but packs a powerful emotional punch and a really interesting character study into only a few paragraphs. Explores the really interesting question: what is it like to mourn a culture you're a part of but will never really know?

Briding Her Time in Wait

The wedding date was set. Winry and Ling had screamed at one another for months during the preparation out of a mutual need for their childhood friend and half-sister to have the most incredible wedding in the history of either Amestris or Xing, and as a result the wedding canopy suffered from a unique blend of western and eastern traditions that left guests from both sides of the desert confused and requesting refills on drinks that didn’t exist. Still, the two wedding planners manipulated the day into running smoothly, Ling pulling his Emperor card when necessary, Winry pulling her, well, Winry card when necessary, while Ed and Lan Fan stood awkwardly around the food table making small talk that mostly consisted of complaints about automail. By the time the golden groom was ushered through a beautification process that left him requiring an escort to avoid the various women—and men—attempting to seduce him at the last minute, the guests were settled and the wedding was ready to roll.

Except no one knew where the hell the bride had gone.

I'm always a sucker for Scar and Mei's relationship.

One More Time, With Feeling

In the end the Elric brothers laughed over the irony: The traveller had settled to write books on alchemy while juggling two boisterous children blessed with Rockbell rockheadedness and Elric recklessness, and the settler had taken to travelling between Amestris and Xing for the remainder of his life. It came, really, with having two homes.

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

A bird could love a fish, but where would they live?

This one explores Alphonse's relationship with Mei post-series and is VERY in line with how I picture it. Being in love with a foreign princess in line for the throne with a duty to her people and country would make for a very complicated and often strained relationship.

Magic and Mind by Preelikeswriting

Of all things Edward was prepared for as the day of reckoning grew near, being transported from one world on the edge of war to another was not one of them.

AKA: Edward gets accidentally summoned by Death Eaters, and neither party is happy.

(Pre-Promise Day, HP book 5)

Ok so preface: I rarely like crossover fics and I very rarely like HP crossover fics, but this one just works for me. I think what I like so much about it is that Edward doesn't just get thrown into the world of HP and join the golden trio / order and start fighting Voldemort. Oh no. He does not care about their fight at all. He just wants to get back home and will do anything he needs to to achieve that, even if it makes him look like he's working with Death Eaters or going against Harry and friends.

I think the fun of this fic is that it kind of plays around with the fact that the READER knows who the good guys are of each series and would expect them to join forces. Sure, Ed is the Good Guy of FMA and Harry and friends are the Good Guys of HP, but Ed's goals don't really align with Harry's goals and so they're not really working together, and Ed kind of comes off looking shady af to the HP characters despite the fact that the reader knows why he's doing what he's doing. It's a far more interesting take on Ed goes to HP world than "Ed immediately joins the fight against Voldemort."

The series has three works so far and I haven't finished it, but I really loved the first and what I've read of the second. It also eventually heads into Ed/Draco territory which is not a ship I would have initially read but.....kind of works for me here.

#fic rec #fanfic #van hohenheim #alphonse elric #ask

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alovesthis · 3 years

Text

all of those things // sam wilson

all of those things // sam wilson oneshot (also on my AO3 - pinned on my tumblr)

summary: Every single thing about Sam Wilson had made your stomach flutter with uncontrollable butterflies. The way he spoke and carried himself. His bright smile and the way he laughed. All of those things are what made you fall in love with him. But, you had some questions on why and how he loves you -- which leads Sam confessing every single thing he loves about you.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: none

requests: send me a message, or an ask on my tumblr! I don’t have any prompts, but feel free to send me any ones you have on your mind! Marvel, SPN, Peaky Blinders. Just note, I’m currently mostly writing MCU characters!! specifically, Sam, Bucky, Steve...

newly edited; may 24th 2021

Every single thing about Sam Wilson had made your stomach flutter with uncontrollable butterflies. The way he spoke and carried himself. His bright smile and the way he laughed and how it reached to his eyes. All of those things are what made you fall in love with him, but falling in love with your best friend was tricky.

For years you both stood in touch despite how many states you lived from one another. After Sam came back home and started living in D.C, you got a job there and he was fucking thrilled. You struggled to find a place to live, despite Sam’s efforts to get you to move in with him, as you wanted to do things on your own. But when it got extremely difficult, you gave in. How hard could it be to live with your best friend?

When you first asked yourself that, you didn’t really think anything of it. It was easy for the first few months. He was a clean person, kept things organized and had a great set up with his record player. That was one of the many things you adored about him. His love for music and the way he would always show you music you’ve never listened to. The way he’d cook breakfast early in the morning for you before the two of you went off to work. The way he’d say ridiculous jokes and laugh the hardest.

There wasn’t a thing you didn’t hate about him, or dislike. Sure, as best friends you’d annoy the shit out of each other from time to time. But, it never made you want to be without him. Even when times got rough, he was still there for you even if he was the one to make you upset. That was just the type of man Sam Wilson was; caring and the utmost loving human being. He’d gone through a lot, and that was an understatement.

Before The Snap even happened, you were scared you lost him forever. He was helping Steve find Bucky with some others and you had to stay on the sidelines, helping them find places of safety and running from everyone who wanted their hands on Bucky and them. You went months without seeing him because of that. And when The Snap happened, Steve came to you and explained everything. It hurt you because you knew that was going to happen: losing Sam.

Those five years were the longest years of your life. Family members dying, moving and you on your own in the apartment. It made a huge difference with the most warm person you knew was gone. Everything was cold and empty, no smile that could light up the room was there to be seen. No contagious laugh or someone to confide in. No more Sam. Although you two have been apart in life because he went on his tours, something was different about him being gone. No communication, no location. But still, the feeling you’d never see him again would linger in your heart, heavy on your mind. The picture frames were still there to remind you of him and all the memories you’ve shared.

Sometimes, staring at pictures of the two of you and listening to his favorite records made you cry. It made you regret that you never got to tell him you loved him. More than a friend, more than just because you were grateful for him. It was because you were utterly in love with your best friend.

For years, you couldn’t stand to be alone. And Sarah, his sister, knew how much you were suffering alone. No job, no immediate family around...so she made you pack up some stuff and move down to Delacroix to Sam’s childhood home. Sarah, and pretty much everyone who knew you and Sam, knew how you felt about him. And although you were oblivious to how Sam felt towards you, everyone knew how he felt about you. They all saw it. The way the two of you would brighten up either of you walked in a room. The way no one else took his place or yours.

During the five years he was gone, you would hang with Sarah and her kids. You were back and forth between D.C and Delacroix from time to time, whenever you could afford it. She never liked to ask for help, but you helped out because you wanted to. Sarah was a sister to you, and those kids were something special. Watching them grow up when Sam was gone, they reminded you of him. So did Sarah.

When Sam came back, there was no wasting time jumping in his arms. After the final war with Thanos (Sam told you everything about it), there was Tony’s funeral. Natasha’s. Everyone came together, including you. If that wasn’t enough to make things and everyone feel down, Steve left and it broke Bucky. Sam was in for a surprise when he was handed the shield.

For months, Bucky left and you and Sam went back to Delacroix. Although he went back into working after being pardoned, you worried for him and Bucky. You didn’t want them to overwork themselves and jump back in after fighting and running for so long.

But as you looked out for Sam, you realized he was okay. Even if you were worried about him every day (I mean come on, he’s your best friend), you knew that Sam was never to keep things bottled up. It was rare, but right now he told you he was fine but if he needed someone, he’d obviously come to you. As time went on, he went on missions. You stood back, working at home (in Sarah’s house) as a journalist for credible news sources in New York and D.C. Although you were grateful to have this family and them letting you stay, you were missing Sam too much. Sure, he wasn’t working everyday 24/7, but there were missions where he was gone an entire week.

After talking to him one night about it, he saw how concerned you were. He would change his schedule slightly, in order to make sure he wasn’t ever becoming work obsessed. He knew your family as a kid would be so invested in their careers, that you were somewhat neglected a childhood.

The things he’s done for you made you swoon for him. Sometimes, it made you feel guilty and selfish for asking for more time with your best friend. As you confided in him about little things like that, Sam would laugh and reassure you that you shouldn’t ever feel selfish or sorry for wanting him to be around.

He started taking it easy on work. Not only because you felt like he was working too much, but because the family business was struggling and he wanted to help out a lot more. This led to family time, which Sarah and you gossiped about while packaging plates for customers. Sarah would argue that Sam working is fine, and it’s better that he’s away from home. Although she understood your feelings for him (you didn’t think she knew, but Sarah had really good intuition), she didn’t want you or Sam to worry about the business, boat or home.

So yeah, he still kept taking time off work but that meant his missions were more tough and extremely longer than most. Even though that was a change, there were still those nights you both cherished. The ones where it was just you two, alone, staying up all night watching the classics you two both loved.

He caught you staring at him one night. Sitting on the couch together watching the third movie of the night. You stared at the way his smile made his cheek bones prominent, the way it reached his eyes. He would huff out laughs and his sculpted body would move up and down. You didn’t realize you were staring so hard, until he turned his head to react to a joke from the movie.

Your cheeks were set on fire and you were utterly embarrassed. The way his wide smile began to slowly fade as he watched your eyes glare down to his lips and back up to his eyes. Coughing, you quickly turned back to the screen with your breath hitching in your throat. You bit your lip and began bouncing your leg in anxiousness. Trying to watch the movie, you felt Sam’s stare burn through the side of your face.

“What?” Sam smirked.

“What?”

“What’s going on?” He asked softly. You didn’t answer, which makes him sigh and grab the remote so that the movie didn’t distract you. “Y/N?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” You stood up, hesitating whether or not you should head to bed or sit back down. “I’m gonna go to bed. I’m just exhausted.”

Sam had this thing about him. He knew when people were having a hard time, and he knew much better than to just let you walk away without letting you talk things out with him. He gripped on your wrist and pulled you down to the couch. You let out a tired sigh, and fell into his side.

“You gonna keep sighing or are you ever gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s been so hard these last few months.” You gulped, hoping it would stop you from being over emotional.

“You came back after all these years, fought against Thanos and Steve left the shield to you. And then you didn’t take it, so I thought maybe you would’ve taken it easy for a while. I worry about you every day, every time we’re not together. I kept trying to tell you every chance I had, but I scared. I got mad at myself for not telling you, but I was scared if I did I would ruin everything. I got mad at myself because I knew if I didn’t tell you, I could probably lose you one day on a mission and you’d never know…Sam, I-I’m-”

The nerves shoot up and down your body, making you anxious

“Hey, hey…” He pulled your hands from your face, making you look at him. “Tell me what? Is everything alright?”

Sam’s heart starts to drop in his stomach, worried that something was wrong and you didn’t tell him a thing about it.

“I’m in love with you. I really, always...truly love you.”

You spilled your heart out, embarrassingly so, you try to leave his grasp. But he doesn’t let you go. He wants to listen, he wants to make sure you know that he feels the same way. So, he does.

He said your name lovingly, “I love you.”

Stunned, you tilt your head trying to make sense of those three little words you had no idea he’d say to you...in that way. He waited for your response, biting back a smile as he thought it was cute that you were flustered.

“I can’t...you?”

“Talk it out, baby, that’s alright.”

You swooned at the nickname, your heart pounding against your chest. Leave it up to Sam Wilson to make you melt by just speaking.

“I can’t believe you love me.”

Sam laughed lovingly, “What? Why’s that?”

“Fuck, I said that out loud.” You hid your face in his chest. The heat rises into your cheeks as you squeezed his biceps in embarrassment. “Sam, I’m serious. I just-”

“Look at me.” He tugged on your waist. His hand had started to glide from your hip to your jaw, caressing it gently. “Come on, I’ve loved you since we were kids. I thought all the flirting and back and forth was obvious! I love you now and I’ll continue to love my girl forever.”

Your eyes shoot up to his.

“Yeah, my girl.” He smiled, his eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “This explains a lot too.”

“What?”

“Never bringing home anyone. Dates, sure. But the fact that we both knew inside we couldn’t bring anyone home, or came up with excuses.”

“You came up with excuses not to bring anyone home? Or date people? Jesus, Sam...why?”

“You’re telling me you haven’t?” You shook your head at him. “I thought so.”

“But why?”

“You really gotta ask me why?” He sighed, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Oh baby. I was gone for a second, but I lost years and so did you. I can’t ever imagine how that must’ve been for you, or Sarah and the kids. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, more than ever, about how the life I had before Steve walked in my life. All the people we had to fight, and save and run for our lives….That was hard. Being away from you for so long that sucked.”

“It did. So, I guess we both know how it feels when we’re away from each other for so long.”

“Yeah, and that made me realize I don’t want to waste anymore time. I love you because it’s always been you. The people I’ve met, all those dates or whatever they were: it didn’t work because they weren’t you. No one can even amount to you.”

You shook your head, “No, Sam. I’m not that special-”

“Don’t do that. Don’t think you’re not. Don’t do that self deprecating thing, because I know you know how I’ve seen you. How Sarah sees you, how those kids look up to you. Shit, even Bucky sees you. He won’t return my calls or texts, but somehow you get through to him. You’re special. The way you have the strength to get up early in the morning with me before I head off to work. I mean, who would really wakes up at five in the morning for someone and they don’t gotta wake up for another four hours?”

“You’re the only person I’d wake up early for.”

“See. It’s little things like that.”

“What?” He squinted at you, a smirk playing on his face.

“I mean...no matter what you do, or where we are. I just, it’s those things that made me fall for you. Much to my surprise, I didn’t think I’d ever tell you. Or even hear those words come out of your mouth.”

“Why?”

“For starters, you’re my best friend and probably the closest thing I have to a family. I didn’t want to jeopardize that. Not only that but just...I’m just me.”

“That’s right. You’re just you.” Sam said, pulling you into him.

“That’s why I love you.” You shrugged. “You let people know that they’re good, that they’re beautiful.”

“You’re just as caring and filled with compassion.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one Sam Wilson.”

“That’s true.” Sam laughed. “And there’s only one you. That’s what makes you unique, and that’s what makes you the woman I love.”

“Sam.”

Everything about you, from the way you woke up with him in the early mornings, to late night movies, cooking together was things he loved about you. From the way you passionately spoke about the things and people you cared about. The way you fumble over your words during a joke always made him laugh. The way you would stay up for him after his long missions and work, to make sure he was physically and mentally alright.

It was the little things and the big things in life that you did that made his heart grow even fonder of you by the day. And now, now that he had you here in his hold confessing your love to him...he really couldn't believe it.

He moved one of his hands to hold on your waist, as you sat together on the couch. He loved the way you said his name. Whether it was Sam, or Samuel, or Wilson when you were angry...or even when you called him Falcon in amusement, his mind couldn’t keep up with his heart that kept beating faster everytime he was with you.

“Y/N…” He said, matching your tone.

“You always know the right things to say, huh?”

“Yeah, and the truth.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

He laughed, then moved his fingers on your waist to comfort you.

“Listen, I could list every damn thing and reason why I love you. Trust me, that list is endless. It’s always been you that’s made me feel things I’ve never felt for anyone, you know? The way you look in the morning, or anytime of day really. Your lips...whenever you’re concentrating on something you do that really damn cute scrunch of your face. You know, the one where your nose scrunches and your lips are pulled to the side. The way you listen to me. Whether it's my jokes, or going on and on about shit or just letting me open up to you. How could I not fall in love with my best friend?"

You closed your eyes, listening to the way he spoke. That’s another thing: his voice. Whether it was when he was joking around, or tired, or flirting...that voice made you feel more things for him than you’ve ever felt.

“Every, goddamn thing about you is what I love. Because it’s you.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand on your cheek and you open your eyes to stare up at him.

“You’re really warm.”

“You have that affect on me.”

“I know I do.”

You rolled your eyes at his confident flirting. Before you could even respond, his other hand is cupping your jaw. His lips gently grazed yours, slowly waiting for you to make the next move. But the fluttering in your stomach made you too nervous to even move. He caught on and with a faint smile, he leaned in more. You felt like you were frozen, in a dream. Your mind is still caught up in the ‘holy fuck my best friend, sam fucking wilson is kissing me.’ After a few seconds, he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours.

It stood silent between you too. Sam waiting for you to relax and realize what had just happened. He lets out a breathy laugh when he felt your hands start tugging on his shirt, asking him to come forward again. Your lips are instantly on his, and you finally feel it. The connection that pulls you into him, the love that you’ve felt for him for years.

Those butterflies in your stomach flutters up into your heart. Everything you’ve read, watched or heard suddenly starts to become true. There’s this wholesome feeling knowing you’re finally kissing this man you’ve had a crush on since you were kids. But then, there’s this loving and intense feeling that pulses throughout your body. His mouth opens slightly, allowing you to explore his. The nerves start up again, but you push them away once you feel confident enough.

Your lips detach from his for a second, and you both let out each others names in a low whisper. He felt it too. The way you were both vulnerable around each other more than other time. The way you both finally got those feelings off your chest, speaking them to each other.

Sam kissed you once more, just a peck but enough to make you feel weak all over. It was soft, but you felt him giving his all to you. And as he pulled away, it left you breathless and clinging tightly on his thick biceps.

“The things you do to me.”

“I could say the same thing.”

You leave a kiss on the side of his mouth, to tease him and for your own satisfaction. No words are spoken for the rest of the night. It gave you and Sam the opportunity to relax into each others arms.The two of you let out a relieved laugh, falling back into the couch together. He lets his hand wander from your head, down to your back, soothing you and making sure you know everything that had just happened was real. If you had the option of kissing him for the rest of your life, you would.

But right now, being in his arms and knowing that he loves you back, can suffice.

84 notes · View notes

madslorian · 3 years

Text

weekly fic recs!

More recommendations! Everybody seems to love the very first one I posted, which is amazing!!! Everything I have recommended can be found on my {fic rec masterlist}.

Here are all the amazing writers I have included in this weeks recs:

@forever-rogue

@gryffindorwriter

@autumnleaves1991-blog

@dindjarindiaries

@frannyzooey

@opheliaelysia

@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

@winchesterxxi

@pedros-mustache

@pedro-pascal-love

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Frankie “Catfish” Morales}⊰

"WE'RE JUST FRIENDS." "FRIENDS DON'T DO THIS TYPE OF SHIT." BY FOREVER-ROGUE

Reader and Frankie have been friends for many years and it's finally come to the point where emotions are taking over and you can't sit there and act like you're just friends anymore.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Agent Whiskey / Jack Daniels}⊰

“I TRUSTED YOU." / "I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM WITHOUT YOU." BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Takes place during Whiskey's final scene of the movie, but reader has some words to say to him that talk him down

TRUST BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

After the reader and Whiskey have a few drinks together before Whiskey's next mission, they share a quick kiss. When Whiskey is shot the next day, there's only one thing that reader can think of to restore his memory

MEMORY BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader loses her memory when she gets shot and despite the agency's efforts to recover them, they seem to be lost for good much to Whiskey's dismay. So he replicates their first date again

MISCOMMUNICATION BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Ginger tells Whiskey that reader has been shot and killed on a mission, the pain of losing yet another love begins to settle in when suddenly you're stumbling through the agency doors injured

SCREW TRADITION BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

It's the reader and Whiskey's wedding day and reader is having a panic attack before the ceremony. Jack doesn't give it a second thought before he's rushing through the doors to help alieve all the stress and emotions

REGRETS BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

After a mission goes wrong and Whiskey and reader are facing impending death, they miraculously survive and Whiskey is intrigued when the reader mentions not wanting to have died with regrets

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH ME." / "H-HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN STANDING THERE?" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader confides in Ginger when a pregnancy test comes back positive, and stresses over Jack not wanting kids after what happened with his first wife and their child

*SLEEPY SEX BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

NSFW! Reader and Whiskey admit to the sexual tension between them one night during a mission, and as you can assume, smut ensues!

“[CHOKED UP] I THOUGHT I LOST YOU." / “[CHOKED UP] I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE YOU AGAIN" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader is out shopping at a store when Jack sees on the news there was a shooting there, and he immediately rushes to find you with fears of what happened to his high school sweetheart flooding his mind

“WHO ATE ALL THE ADVENT CALENDAR CHOCOLATES?!" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader confronts Whiskey about the empty advent calendar only four days into December, and he sends you on a wild goose chase to distract you. Overall the cutest fluff ever!

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? IT'S NOT SAFE OUT THERE!" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader and Whiskey get into an argument after reader spends more time at work recently. He changes his attitude pretty quickly when you turn to walk out into the cold night

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Javier Peña}⊰

"WE'RE JUST FRIENDS." "FRIENDS DON'T DO THIS TYPE OF SHIT." BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

Okay, think Frankie's version of this prompt (if you read it!)... but a complete 180º. This has a lot of angst and it just makes me realize how much poor Javier needs a hug, desperately.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Din Djarin}⊰

SNACK TIME BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 6 of Mandoctober by this author. Absolute fluff between Din and Grogu where dad!Din has to teach Grogu to not play with his food

RAZOR CREST BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 7 of Mandoctober by the author. As Din grows closer with the reader, the term home is something he begins to feel properly identifies what the Razor Crest is for the three of you

AD'IKA BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 10 of Mandoctober by the author. This follows Din's usage of the word Ad'ika, or little one, towards Grogu and how the child responds to it

COZY IN THE COCKPIT BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Reader is badly injured when the Razor Crest takes a beating, and in order to save you from hypothermia, Din locks the three of you in the cockpit and cleans up your wounds while Grogu attempts to help too

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Marcus Pike}⊰

THE RISING SUN BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

A short story about the reader suffering from depression and anxiety, but has Marcus by their side to face it all. A someone who has been in a (scarily) similar situation to this, it was so comforting hearing the things I both needed to hear and wish I would have heard from my previous s/o

"IF YOU THROW THAT SNOWBALL, THAT MEANS WAR" BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

This is absolutely, 100%, pure fluff. Reader and Marcus are having a fun snow day with their two kids and I melted reading this

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Dave York}⊰

*WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD (SERIES) BY PEDRO-PASCAL-LOVE

NSFW! This story awoke something in me... a new interest in Dave x Nanny stories. It follows the events of Equalizer 2, just with the reader added into the plot

(ALSO I AM SO EXCITED THE AUTHOR IS CONTINUING THIS STORY... Y'ALL NEED TO GIVE IT A SHOT!!!)

*DAVE YORK X NANNY DRABBLES/ASKS BY FRANNYZOOEY

NSFW! I found this shortly after finishing Well, This Is Awkward and I love it. These are all drabbles/asks the reader has gotten about certain situations regarding Dave and the Nanny!Reader. It's all the right amount of spice in all the right places

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Ezra}⊰

*AKRASIA BY OPHELIAELYSIA

NSFW! Reader and Ezra are locked down in their ship before being able to dock and part ways. With sexual tension building, there is only so much time left to do something about it

HOLD ON TO THESE WORDS BY OPHELIAELYSIA

Reader struggles with insomnia and late-night anxieties, meaning Erza never finds himself waking up beside you. However, one night he wakes to you lost in your own mind and comforts you

WILDFLOWER BY OPHELIAELYSIA

Reader is exploring nature one morning before Ezra wakes up and is greeted with the sight of beautiful flowers, which remind you of your lover in the sweetest ways possible

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Pero Tovar}⊰

*CLANDESTINE BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

NSFW! Reader and Pero cross paths when Pero is hired for protection in your kingdom before the King arrives for a festival. Lots of small glances and hidden love-making in the dark shadows make for something sweet yet forbidden

*LIKE THOSE FOREIGN STARS BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

NSFW! Reader and Pero are married, but for most of your marriage, he has been off selling his sword. When he is gone for much longer than originally intended on one job, his arrival back home calls for a passionate reunion on the kitchen table, and the floor, and the bed...

*RAISE YOUR HAND TO ME AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR HEART OUT MYSELF BY ITHINKHESGAYBUTWESAVEDMUFASA

NSFW! WARNING: SUGGESTED DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/SPANKING DISCIPLINE, I felt like that was needed before recommending it.

Disclaimer: This is a glorious Outlander AU, but I think it can be read without any knowledge of the show. Reader and Pero are married due to a deal to keep you safe as you travel with him and the other men, and when you step out of line he is expected to reprimand you as your husband. Pero ends up having a change of heart as to what being a husband means to the two of you

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Poe Dameron}⊰

MARRIED TO A SKYWALKER BY WINCHESTERXXI

Adorable headcanons about how life would be if reader was a Skywalker/Solo kid and how interactions would be with Leia and Han

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Oberyn Martell}⊰

DORNISH DELIGHTS (Part 1) (Part 2) BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

A modern AU where Oberyn owns and runs a shop called Dornish Delights and reader has quickly become one of his favorite customers. There's a strong sense of comfort when picturing this shop and I desperately wish I could go there and be loved by Oberyn like this

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Marcus Moreno}⊰

FIDDLE BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

An adorable fic about reader fiddling with Marcus' wedding ring beginning on their honeymoon. After ten years reader is worried he is annoyed by it, but all is well in the end

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Max Phillips}⊰

WITH CHERRIES ON TOP (SERIES) BY ITHINKHESGAYBUTWESAVEDMUFASA

I am still actively reading this and am only a couple of chapters in, BUT IT'S A PROPOSAL AU! Brief rundown if you don't know the movie, WITHOUT giving anything major away; The boss is getting deported and creates a fake engagement with the assistant! It's really fun to see this plot with Max plugged into it

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masterthespianduchovny · 3 years

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Let’s talk about this Nate and Rebecca comparison again. 😊

There is a reason why I forgave Rebecca and why I’ll forgive Nate if he has the same introspection and emotional beats that she did surrounding the apology sequence.

Keeley gives Rebecca an ultimatum. “Either you tell Ted or I will.”

So the pressure to own up to the clusterfuck she created was there. It was time sensitive and she stood to lose a friend if she didn’t comply.

Rebecca calls Ted into her office saying that she’ll get straight to the point and not procrastinate while ironically doing neither.

We see this is difficult for her. It’s clear that she cares a lot for Ted and is realizing how much she stands to lose—not just her image, but Ted as friend as well, which is why she loses her nerve and sends him away.

Then Rupert comes in and drops a bomb, he and Bex are expecting. He dresses up this revelation as kindness and compassion opposed to callousness and cruelty. That he came to tell her face to face to watch her become distraught in real time. He revels in her pain. He wants to be the cause of it.

And the thing is: they both know this.

They both know he’s not trying to soften the blow of the new, but rather, add to it.

Rupert tries to frame her as hysterical. He tries to make her feel not good enough to have his child. Something he emotionally manipulated her into not having. A discussion they probably had for years, which he made her feel bad about.

Only to impregnate a younger woman and deem her “worthy” of having his child.

And he does hurt her.

We see the tears and the understanding as to how vile and evil is in Rebecca’s face. We see the understanding that Rupert gets off on emotionally harming her.

In that moment, Rebecca decides that she’s not going to be Rupert, she’s not going to end up like him. She’s not going to get off on others misery even if it’s his. It’s not her and so many people have gotten hurt, or could’ve, in the process.

Although she wants to keep ted in her life, as her friend, he has a right to know what she did. He has a right to quit and go the press. She’s not justified in what she’s done to Ted just because Rupert harmed her. And harming all of those people in the process just to hurt Rupert wasn’t right.

Rebecca sheds her fears and owns why she did because she doesn’t have the right to be shielded from Ted’s rightful anger. She doesn’t have the right to shield herself from something that is long overdo. She doesn’t have the right to take solace in a friendship that she feels she doesn’t deserve.

She deserves whatever Ted throws at her.

So she goes to face Ted and doesn’t justify or excuse her actions. There is not only remorse, there is also ownership of her actions. She doesn’t ask to be spared, plea for anything, beg, or influence Ted to take it easy on her.

In fact, she expects him to quit and tell the press, which she expects to weather after he airs our her dirty laundry.

And you know what, she was 100% prepared to accept accountability and responsibility for her actions.

Now this doesn’t erase the harm she did, but 1. Rebecca expressed remorse 2. She apologized 3. She was accountable 4. She didn’t try to influence him to forgive her and didn’t expect him to. 5. She gave him the space and freedom (no crowd) to make whatever decision he felt was appropriate even if she suffered massive consequences, which would’ve been deserved.

To be far to Nate, he’s in the middle of his story. So he didn’t have the same gut punch moment. We’ll see what that looks like at the end of the season.

What we get is Beard calling him out for what he said to Colin, Nate wondering if Ted knows, and being told to apologize.

I must note that Nate doesn’t appear to be remorseful about what he said, he just doesn’t want to get in trouble with Ted. Even if you argue that either Nate shouldn’t have to apologize to Colin since Colin used to bully him or that their relationship is too complicated to get to that point yet, Nate is still one of Colin’s coaches. If Nate isn’t mature enough to separate their history from their current relationship, he shouldn’t be a coach.

Remember, Roy was literally called out about this an episode or two ago and immediately corrected his behavior when called out by Ted. He cannot be a coach and selectively coach players. It doesn’t work that way.

Nate not only doesn’t give Colin the space and freedom to process his apology, the apology was insincere. There is no reckon king, reflection, or sincerity in his words. He’s apologizing because he has to and not because he means it.

The thing is: Nate should’ve apologized for allowing their past history interfere for his coaching responsibility and acknowledged that Colin did emotionally and physically hurt him, but it’s something he’s working to move past to be great at his job.

However, the person who really deserved the apology was Will and that’s what further highlights the entire charade. More so than Colin, Will deserved the apology and to be treated with respect. He deserves not to yelled at, afraid, and not to go to work at a hostile environment.

Instead, Nate further focuses on Will and his hostility increases.

Again, we are at the middle of Nate’s story, so anything can happen. But don’t get mad at me for using this comparison when I wasn’t the one who made it. Rather than people mentioning how Rebecca was forgiven for the fucked up shit she did, people should’ve said, “look at where Rebecca was around the half way mark in the first season and look at where she was in the finale; even though it looks bad, Nate still has time to turn this around.”

Instead people want to say, “y’all forgave Rebecca and Jamie for worse shit.”

Rebecca and Nate’s apologies are vastly different. After Rebecca apologized to Ted, she went and genuinely apologized to Higgins. Nate read a mean tweet and went and verbally abused and threatened Will.

For the third time, Nate is in the middle of his story and it does him a disservice to compare him to people with completed arcs. To people who has self reflection, made amends, and made active changes to become better people and useful to the bigger picture. Because we went on these full journeys, we’re able to forgive. Nate is still working through his shit and his actions aren’t a good look at all.

Let’s not set Nate up to fail currently by comparing him to people who have dealt with their shit heads on and learned from it. Let’s compare Nate’s journey to the middle of their stories and stress that his story isn’t over yet.

And let’s acknowledge that people have the right to feel angry and disturbed at Nate. Or how the power imbalance is vastly different from kitman and player v kitman and coach. This isn’t to say Jamie and co weren’t wrong to bully Nate, however, currently, as an assistant coach, he has more power over Will than the players did over him. Although Ted and Beard can override him, that relies on them always being around and seeing shit AND Will not being frightened to come forward. He may not think he’ll be able to or have support. Especially because they’re a crew, the Diamond Dogs.

Relying on other coaches to save or spare Will undercuts any reckoning and accountability for Nate. He needs to come to the realization that his behavior is fucked up and he shouldn’t be tormenting the kitman for any reason.

#I’m so fucking long winded #😔#🥴#I like to be thorough and clear #lol #rebecca welton #ted lasso #nate shelley

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thepapergirlandthespiegelman · 3 years

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Castlevania Season 4: I’m not mad, just disappointed

Season 4 is poorly written fanfiction, which is...better than a lot of things could be, I guess.

Spoilers below the cut.

Content warning: trauma, sexual assault, psychological manipulation

The Gods Have Had a Change of Heart

Or, “Season 3 Blocked and Ignored”

Season 3 felt like the fabric of the universe had been twisted just to inflict additional pain. Season 4 overcompensates in the other direction; trauma evaporates, and good things happen for no other reason than to make our favorite characters happy.

The Season 3 finale left two characters in particular totally devastated: Alucard and Hector. Alucard is violently betrayed in a horrifying sexual assault by the first two people he’s spoken to since Trevor and Sypha left. He ends up killing them in self-defense and puts their bodies on stakes outside the castle, alluding to his father’s habit of doing so and potentially hinting at a turn toward evil. Hector is seduced by Lenore and then enslaved using a magic ring.

Yet at the start of Season 4, it’s as if these things never happened. Alucard is troubled, but not totally devastated, certainly not evil. Taka and Sumi are referenced in exactly one conversation with new character, Greta, in which she says the rather tactless throwaway line, “I had a boyfriend and girlfriend at the same time once. But they never tried to kill me.” Hector is nominally imprisoned, but immediately seems highly agentic, perhaps even more so than before. He studies, lays traps, and makes secret plans with other people. Furthermore, his relationship with Lenore is completely transformed. From falling to his knees in abject horror and despair at being enslaved, he suddenly switches to light banter, in what is apparently a basically okay, mutually enjoyed romantic/sexual relationship. Manipulative, selfish Lenore is now a sympathetic character struggling to reconcile her own role and feelings with Carmilla’s plans.

The events of season 3 happened, remaining canon in the most basic, literal sense. But the emotional weight attached to them has disappeared into thin air.

Not gonna lie, I did breathe a sigh of relief when I saw that Alucard and Hector were okay. I’m soft-hearted! I don’t like seeing characters I like suffer! I mean, conflict is important, and I can deal with (or even enjoy in a certain sense) seeing characters suffer if it makes sense and serves a narrative purpose. But as far as I can tell, the season 3 finale was nothing more than lurid, meaningless violence. I probably wouldn’t have continued watching the show if it devolved into nothing more than finding novel ways to torture the characters.

Still, it doesn’t feel quite right to pretend like nothing happened either. Or, really, not that nothing happened, but that those things didn’t matter, didn’t hurt, didn’t leave lasting scars. That’s...almost kind of worse.

But, I thought, I can sort of forgive this sudden shift in the stars, given that there may have been some sort of change in creative direction relating to Ellis’ decreased involvement with the show.* Plus, season 3 was insanity. It’s not like it was full of great writing choices, so if we quietly ignore some of them, maybe that’s for the best.

*I only later learned that Netflix actually chose to continue with Ellis’ season 4 scripts. It is not lost on me that maybe Ellis doesn’t know how to write about the lasting effects of traumatic sexual experiences or how power dynamics can make a sexual relationship problematic because he doesn’t understand that those things exist.

Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening

Pretty Pictures, Not Much Else

Unfortunately, the disconnect between seasons 3 and 4 isn’t the only problem with this season. Although I felt that season 4 was a bit less boring than season 3 (I particularly enjoyed some of the earlier episodes of season 4), it suffers from the same basic problems of Characters Being Nobody and Nothing Happening.

None of the characters experience any significant development, let alone any sort of coherent arc. Sypha has changed slightly, becoming more rough and jaded. I did really like the scene where she talks about becoming the kind of person who says “shit.” I think it really speaks to how entering into a relationship with someone means taking on aspects of their lifestyle, and how that can change you in ways that you can’t predict and therefore can’t exactly “agree” to. Sometimes those changes are good, sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re neutral, and sometimes it’s difficult to know. But you have to accept that you’re sacrificing some aspects of the person that you could have been if you chose to live completely independently, or with someone else.

Trevor really hasn’t changed since season 1 when he first decided to take up the mantle of hero again. Likewise with Alucard. Hector and Lenore change, as previously noted, but that change is sudden, jarring, and occurs completely off screen in between seasons 3 and 4. Carmilla dies as exactly as she lived: bitter, angry, and violent. Saint Germain just kind of...gets fucked over in a nonsensical subplot, which is its own whole can of worms.

We also get several new characters in season 4, none of whom have developed personalities or motives, nor do they develop any of those things over the course of the season: Greta, Zamfir, Varney, Ratko.

And nobody. Does. Anything.

Trevor and Sypha spend the entire season trying to explore and aid Targoviste, which comes to absolutely nothing. They’re unable to help anyone, Zamfir dies, and they end up just jumping through a magic portal to the actually relevant subplot in the finale. Carmilla literally does little more than draw maps until she’s ultimately killed. Hector plays a minor role in Saint Germain’s extraction of Dracula from Hell; otherwise, he and Lenore basically just exchange banter. Saint Germain does sort of do some stuff? But it’s often unclear how he’s made his connections, who the people who are helping him are, or what exactly he’s doing in terms of his magic beyond “whatever it takes to get back to his lover.”

Sure, there are fight scenes, but they feel meaningless. There’s no context, no stakes. There’s also a LOT of dialogue, and it is. Not well written. Exposition is embarrassingly clumsy at times, and the philosophical musings are cliche at best, muddled and confusing at worst. There’s just not all that much going on.

That is, except for Isaac. But more on him in a second.

What Kind of Show Is This?

When the plot line adapted from Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse ended with season 2, the show struggled to establish a new identity.

Despite nominally dealing with themes like whether humanity is inherently good or evil and how to cope with wrongdoing and loss, seasons 1 and 2 ultimately boiled down to a pretty generic action-adventure/fantasy plot with found family/power of friendship elements. Main characters Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard don’t really wrestle with big philosophical questions or suffer any major defeats. They know that they have to take down Dracula for the good of the world, and they work together as a team to do it, with a little character development relating to their various backstories sprinkled in.

Then season 3 happened, and things got weird. The trio is broken up for what feels like a pretty trivial reason—Alucard has to protect the castle and Belmont hold, I guess? And the result of that decision is that the dynamics for the three main characters are completely unbalanced.

Ellis openly admits that he basically went feral with the writing of season 3, and it shows. The messaging in seasons 1 and 2 was cliche, but consistent. The message of season 3? Anyone’s guess.

Season 4 reversed the darkening of tone from season 3, but shares its inability to pick a story and tell it.

Isaac is the Main Character

Always has been.

While I can’t say that his character or arc are perfect, I can say that he actually has a character and an arc. He starts off motivated by his fierce loyalty to Dracula, then has to struggle to find his purpose once Dracula is gone. He goes from subservient to agentic. He goes from fully endorsing the genocide of humanity and not caring about his own life to seeing some worth in humans and genuinely wanting to live. He has an interesting moment that deepens our understanding of what night creatures are, while also serving as an exploration of the meaning of one’s fundamental nature. Most importantly, these changes happen naturally over the course of the show. They never feel forced or out of the blue, and while I feel like even more could have been done with Isaac’s character, there’s a lot to appreciate about what is there.

If there’s any thread holding Castlevania as a single, coherent work together, it’s Isaac. Not only is his character the best executed and the most coherent over the course of the show, his character explores themes that are larger than himself and relevant to the show as a whole, like those mentioned earlier: misanthropy versus a belief in the value of humanity; the ability to go beyond one’s “nature” or initial circumstances; and how to respond to being wronged or losing something important to you. Exploring the individual lives of characters is great, but really good writing usually requires going beyond that to reflect on broader questions and ideas. Isaac is the only character here that serves that larger purpose.

Sorry...I Just Don’t Buy It

The season 4 finale is crazy, although in a different way from season 3′s.

Varney being Death makes no sense on several different levels. I’m not going to spend a lot of time picking that particular plot twist apart, but I will talk about why I think it doesn’t work at the largest scale, and how I think season 4 might have been done better.

Last minute twists with zero foreshadowing are rarely a good idea, and this is no exception. Why introduce this “Death” entity at the last minute to be the most important battle of the season? The finale of the entire show, even? Besides the lack of logic or emotional buildup, this robs the show of the opportunity to make use of the antagonists that it already has. Since Dracula died, Carmilla has been the obvious choice for a new big bad. Why hasn’t she done more?

Season 4 feels crowded with characters and plot lines that amount to nothing. Why not bring some of these characters together? If Carmilla is the main antagonist, how come she never meets any of the protagonists (except Hector, who is a pretty minor player in this ecosystem) or even affects them in any way?

Season 4 feels like maybe it was trying to make something out of season 3 and the model that it presented, but it ultimately fails to do so. The writers throw the trio back together at the end anyway, so why not have them rejoin sooner and work together? Maybe Sypha and Trevor’s past experience with Saint Germain could have helped Alucard and Greta piece together what he was plotting sooner, rather than all four of them being completely blindsided by it in the penultimate episode. (Sypha and Trevor know that someone is trying to resurrect Dracula, but they fail to find out any actual detail about the plans, despite their supposed attempts.) Have characters actually do stuff, figure stuff out, advance the plot!

Likewise, maybe Carmilla becomes aware of Saint Germain’s scheming, sees it as a threat, and tries to take him down. Maybe she tries to get involved and somehow use alchemy or the Infinite Corridor to her own benefit. What does it look like when power-hungry Carmilla, who wants to rule the world, finds out there’s an entire multiverse out there? That could easily set her up to be a foil to Saint Germain, causing him to realize that what he’s doing is wrong.

What actually ended up happening in the show feels disjointed and often empty. In particular, most of the events that happen in the last two episodes just don’t really work for me. I didn’t like Trevor suddenly sacrificing himself to this random, new, super powerful enemy, or how the gems and dagger that he found just happened to be the perfect weapon to kill this new enemy, or how he inexplicably returns from the dead.

This kind of thing is what I mean when I say that this season feels like fanfiction. Trevor comes back from the dead for no discernible reason other than that it would really suck if he died. Greta as a character seems to literally only exist to be Alucard’s girlfriend and support him so that he doesn’t have to continue to be alone and potentially turn evil. Alucard’s trauma from Taka and Sumi and Hector’s trauma from Lenore are both conveniently erased. Even Dracula and Lisa are resurrected somehow and get their happy ending. And it’s like, I guess I prefer deus ex machina to the opposite (Does that have a name? When everything is going well but then something terrible happens for no reason other than to make things worse for the characters?), but they’re both bad writing.

God. This isn’t even getting into what happened with the Council of Sisters. And I don’t even really like those characters, but that doesn’t mean I want to see their characters handled poorly.

I’m not sorry that I watched until the end, but I can’t in good faith recommend the show as a whole. If you’ve yet to watch Castlevania, just stop at the end of season 2. While there are some shining moments in seasons 3 and 4 (4 more than 3), it’s just really not worth it.

#review #thoughts #television #animation #adult animation #video game adaptation #fantasy #Netflix #Netflix Original #Castlevania #storytelling #writing #characters #plot #character development #vampires #Isaac (Castlevania)

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