#And that’s not even touching on how fictional characters can be judged by absolutely anything they did at any point of time

[anti-dazai-blog]

Got the most baffling ask from [redacted] about an hour ago saying that I should “stop judging Dazai for past actions” and I’m still thinking about it.

What. what does that mean.

[anundyingfidelity]

TRAINING SEASON — Jensen Ackles

Summary: After a tumultuous relationship and a hard break up, you get trapped in between your co-star and a casual one night stand. But there's nothing you regret about.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x female reader, actress!reader.

Word count: 1,076.

Warnings: implied sex like the morning-after-sex, nudity, some sexy time but no full smut, friends to lovers, language, idk just wrote this quickly.

Notes: AU where Jensen is obviously single, and reader is like 38 in my head don't asky why I like this number, I still have no idea. And I just love, and I mean, loooveeee getting obsessed with hot men over 40, can you tell?

>> disclaimer: i totally respect the private lifes of the actors and celebrities i use for my fanfictions, and of course their personal relationships. this is only fiction written for fun and nothing more.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Opening your eyes, you stirred on the soft bed and noticed your sorroundings. This wasn't your hotel room. Your bare body hidden under the blank, messy bed sheets reminded you of yesterday's events. You smiled.

The other side of the bed was warm. His body pressing against yours felt perfect, and you wrapped your hand on his own, which was laying on your waist, like if he didn't want to let go of you. Your mind started remembering his touch on your skin, the way he would kiss every inch of your stomach, the trail of kisses he left all over you, and his love bites around your neck and chest. The burning between your thighs and the soreness let you notice it was as good as you imagined it to be, even before it happened.

"Whatcha thinking?" he asked, raspy and soft voice booming in your ears.

"Mmm... Nothing, just how great you felt last night," you teased, turning your head to see his face directly. Bare skin, disheveled hair, and tired but loving eyes met you. God, he was beautiful. He looked so fucked out in the best way possible one could describe it.

Jensen chuckled and kissed your cheek. Still, he never let go his embrace on you. He looked at you vividly for a long time, scanning every feature of your face, like he wanted to save all of you in just an instant. Your brows furrowed for a moment.

"What?" you whispered.

"We didn't fuck this up, did we?"

A sigh left your lips, your hand ran on his hair softly. You knew what he meant. You had a bad relationship and an even worse break up months before you started working together, and Jensen became a great friend as you tried to overcome it. And it was so hard not to fall for him when it felt like you knew each other for decades. He was someone you could trust your deepest secrets, pain and thoughts. A part of you did not want to cry on his shoulder for days once you got comfortable around him, nor letting him know how terrible you felt at the time. But he never judged you. He just was there, listening and offering a helping hand expecting nothing back.

But your feelings changed in the course. As months went by, an amazing, caring and loving friendship bloomed between both of you. Since the project was a long new TV series, you used to spend a huge amount of time together as your characters appeared to be in a slow building relationship. And now, the premiere was done, but the press tour barely started, so that meant you were not getting away from each other in a good time now.

"No," you finally answered. "Of course no."

"I mean, I know what you been through, and I- I don't wanna ruin anything-"

"Jensen, is fine," you cut him off. His eyes locked on yours, concern washed all over his handsome face. "I am fine with this, are you?"

"Absolutely," he said. "I always was. I mean, I liked you for a long time now," he laughed a little, making you smile. One of his hands now carressing your bare thigh, feeling the heat of your skin.

Jensen leaned down and pecked your lips softly, his lips slowly found its way to your neck, kissing and biting the flesh, exactly how he did last night. He groaned, tasting the saltiness, and you let out a soft moan as he flipped you around. You laid on your back, him on top. His tongue tracing your skin, stopping right before your breats. God, you were getting wet again.

Unlucky for you, your phone started ringing, breaking the moment and Jensen, with a disappointed look on his face, gave you the space to run and answer. By the way you were talking, he figured it was your manager, so he hid behind the covers, admiring you from afar. When you ended the phone call, you walked to him. His eyes kept lusting over your naked figure as you looked for your clothes all over the room. He sadly knew you were postponing until you had enough alone time together.

"I keep forgetting we're still on press tour," you kissed his cheek softly once you put on your underwear and grabbed your clothes to get decent to leave. "I'll be going now, sorry."

"It's fine," Jensen smiled, standing up and putting up some pants. He followed you before you crossed the door. "I'll see you later tonight then, how about dinner?" he casually asked, leaning down. "And then we could probably take care of some other things," he whispered in your ear. You bit your lip, eager to know what he had in mind.

"That'll be amazing, surprise me!"

You gave him a playful wink, and taking your purse you left his room with a wide grin on your face. You were so glad you stopped dating trainees to build a relationship with. Jensen was a self-confident, expert man, and you were more than happy to give it a shot.

[nrdmssgs]

A heart full of pity (part 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (final)

Masterlist Angst, hurt/comfort Pairing: Nik x unnamed afab OC

Summary: He is a fixer, but there are some things, he can never fix. Things like past traumas. He wishes, he could make it better, take her pain away, but he can't. And can't leave her be either, as for now he is her fixer.

TW: Description of physical injury (burns). Inaccurate description of medical operations and military operations, swearing.

Authors note: This is deeply personal. I do not urge anyone to love Russian culture, and I understand how traumatic any mention of it can be in the current realities. I also do not urge anyone to have a positive attitude towards the FSB. Nikolai is a unique character, he does not represent any realities of life in Russia or work in the FSB. I don't romanticize Russia or FSB in real life. This is just fiction. I don't intend to harm anyone with it.

Thanks: I would like to thank a million times absolutely beautiful soul @homicidal-slvt for opening this character from a new perspective for me. I would also love to thank dear @sofasoap for creating absolutely beautiful Lastochka series, that took my mind on this journey.

“Then, oh Lord, wipe us off the face of the earth and create anew more perfect ... or even better, leave us and let us go our own way.”  “My heart is full of pity,” Rumata said slowly. “I can not do it.” ‘Hard to Be a God’ by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky

“Captain, are you absolutely sure, there is no one else, whom you could send with me?” With each next word, her voice became lower and more muffled - a sure sign that she was growing furious. “I mean, I`ll need someone, who can easily blend in, someone discreet, fast thinking, but most important: someone trustworthy.”

“In other words, you need a fixer. And Nikolai is the best one.” Price remained unrelenting. Her persuasion, bargaining and even threats had no effect on him. “Now how about you quit trying to burn a hole in me with your gaze and start working on the plan?”

Price proceeds to explain her goal and timeframes for every part of the mission, but she is too deep in her thoughts. Her hands clutch in fists and slam against the table. “You can't trust that man with a critical mission. You know his origins!” For the first time in her life, she raises her voice at Price, but he completely ignores it, only adding a subtle remark “I trust him with my own life” before going on with a briefing. And that's when she makes her final attempt to make her point to her captain. “The man works for the FSB. And before you tell me once again, he quitted - they never quit! I know it better than all you here!”

Price raises his gaze to her, but doesn't respond. Instead she hears a familiar voice from behind her back. “Hochesh chto-nibud` skazat` - skazhi eto mne v litzo…*”

She could call Nikolai anything but narrow-minded. Even his insults were constructed so carefully, only them two could actually read into it. Her own origin was no secret here and others thought, it would only make it easier for her to connect with Nik, but in reality it turned out quite the opposite. His background was now his experience, hers - burning, aching open wound. Coming from the same place, each of them brought different baggage to their present life. So earlier she acted like Nik was never around: they barely talked, she never touched him, not even shook his hand, never mentioned him on conversations. As if he hasn't existed. 

But that was until he was assigned to help her with the mission. As much as she didn't like it - Nikolai was the only option she got and that meant, they must talk, learn, how to work together. So later that week, sitting next to Nik on the night train, she finally pulls herself together and finds the courage to apologize for what she said earlier in Prices` office. “Captain is right: that was… unprofessional of me to judge,” she talks quietly to not draw unwanted attention, so Nikolai has to lean down to hear what she has to say. Despite her hesitant voice, she sounds genuinely sorry. “That's ok, little one. I know, you don't hate me for real. Not personally.” He smiles softly, as if just a few days ago they weren't ready to start a real fight. “Hey, I know, it's not my business, so feel free to ignore this one. But you seem to have a reason for all that rage. Care to tell?” She doesn't say much, just names a year. There is no need to elaborate: it was on the news everywhere. And it was ugly. By that time Nik already lived his another, new life far from the Motherland, but of course he and the whole world witnessed, how quickly things escalated, and all hell broke loose. Nikolai slowly nods and calmly asks. “Who?” 

She sighs, looking deep in his eyes, as if searching for something. Maybe for the slightest reason to not trust him right now. "My older brother. Then my mother went to look for him on the streets ..." Nikolai curses under his breath and looks away to calm his nerves down. He doesn't need to hear the context - he knows, how bad it was. When he first saw it on the news, he thought “that's how they'll get a new angry generation, hungry for blood, growing up in shuddered families, witnessing silent disappearances of their loved ones.” So now, he sat in a hand-reach of one of those outcomes. 

“What, you're going to say, you weren't there? Or maybe that you're sorry? I'll save you time: don't bother, I don't need anything from you,” she was tense, angry once again. But this time it felt different: she was actually scared, she slipped too much personal information out.

“My heart is full of pity.” He looks at his reflection in a train window. And just before she snaps back at him, Nikolai turns back to her and adds: “‘Hard to be a God’? Read it?” She doesn't answer, but it's obvious, how she recalls the quote and her rage gradually fades away. 

***

If anyone asked her, where did they take the wrong turn - she wouldn't be able to answer. Her plan was solid and Nik was doing his part incredibly efficient. She got anything she needed even before she asked for it. Nikolai seemed to go full mind-reader mode on. He learned every step of the operation by heart and provided her with the most detailed plans of every location of their future mission. He did nothing wrong… And yet there she was, distracting the enemies, who rounded him up. It wasn't easy, but Nik and her made a pretty good team. What really bothered her was the timing: with that unexpected skirmish, they were now running late. And in her line of work, every second could be critical. So when they were finally done with an ‘obstacle’ - she rushed to her next point. 

Nikolai was still somewhere behind, when she passed a group of teenagers, who seemed to be absolutely unbothered by the sounds of gunshots coming from the empty building from which she had just taken off at full speed. She heard the click of a lighter and a drawn-out whistle from somewhere on the side. She slowed down, but didn't even have time to turn around at the sound when she was thrown forward and engulfed in heat so strong that she couldn't even breathe in, let alone scream. And then the world around her descended to fire.

Nikolai was running behind her, when it all happened. He registered every single second of it, and that only made the whole experience more painful. He saw a bottle with a brownish cloth sticking out of the neck, saw how they set fire to the wick, swung and launched the bottle in her direction. It seemed, he even saw the smallest fragments of glass flying off to the sides when the bottle collapsed on the ground at her feet. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, as Nik saw every single detail of her agony. At first she ducked and fallen to the ground in attempt to roll over and put the fire, that caught on her, out. But the formula, that kids had in their bottle seemed to be more nasty, that an average Molotov. So the fire grew. And what was even worse: by the time Nik reached her - the flames were already clearly pale-blueish - a solid sign of some cheap synthetic being burned. The whole scene was quiet to the point, where it was unsettling: she was frantically rolling around, beating herself against the ground, yet not a single scream left her lips - she was only desperately gasping for an air. With one swift motion Nikolai unzipped his jacket, took it off and covered her back, beating lightly the spots, where the flames still appeared. For a few painful moments as he helped her fight the flames, they were both enveloped in thick smoke and the repulsive smell of burnt flesh, textile and hair. Her flushed face was smeared with dust and blood. She tried to cover her eyes with her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sh-h-h-h, sh-h, sh-h, I got you, I got you, you're ok!” Nikolai heard his own voice and realized how pathetic his lie sounded. She was anything but ok: shuddering and convulsing limbs, swollen eyelids, sporadic breaths and muffled whines. But he kept calming her down, holding her so that she did not touch the ground with her wounded, burned back. “C'mon, little one, breathe in. Look at me and take a deep breath. Just like that, good job!” Nik looked around: it wasn't safe to stay there any longer and no matter how hard she tried to stay quiet, every her next whimper was more potent as the pain shock washed out. 

***

In other circumstances, Nikolai would be proud of himself. Never has he ever before found a ride, a safe place to hide in and a medic, who won't ask any questions that quickly. 

He had taken all the lamps he found in the apartment into the living room and was now wiping down the old dining table with a rag soaked in alcohol. “Nik, please… I need to report on my status back to the base.” Her voice was weak, raspy and shaky. “It is done already. They're waiting for an update on an operation.” Nikolai pours a glass of water and brings it her. “Here, you need to drink, little one.” He returns to wiping the table when a glass flies past his ear and smashes against the wall. “Tvoyu mat`! Kakaya naher operatziya, ya yeyo provalila!*” Nik doesn't even flinch, he calmly walks up to the opposite wall, bends down and picks up the pieces of the broken glass. The sharp edges gleam predatory in the light of the lamps placed around the table. She usually avoided speaking her native language, no matter how hard he tried to initiate the talk. But right now, she must have been too furious and upset to choose her language. "They're waiting for your status update. Our operation... is not as important as the one you are about to have." Her eyes widen. “Who said that? For fuck's sake, Nik, I'm ok!”

She tries so lift her body off the couch, but fails, cold compresses slide down her skin and her face contorts in pain. “Doctor Nikolai said…” He comes closer, leans down and replaces compresses with new ones, trying to not look at what was beneath them for too long. It is no longer human skin - it is a dark crimson field of terror and concentrated pain. “Now lay still, little one, save energy.”

In a few hours, she doesn't feel anything but pain. Shame was gone first. When two men carried her to the table as a lifeless puppet, when the cold blade of the scissors barely touched her skin, when the cheap textile that had partially molded with her skin was cut at the seams and the lamps illuminated her vulnerable body - she had already ceased to be ashamed of her weakness, to worry about the fact that her sight could bring them disgust. Then the fear disappeared. The caustic "medical" smell of alcohol, the basin that Nikolai for some reason placed on the floor under her head, the doctor's remarks in a language that she could not make out - all this no longer worried her.

Pain is the only thing left, it consumes her, draws out screams, beats her like a hammer. Nikolai holds her face, brushes thumbs against tear trails, keeps talking to distract her. “Nu-nu, moya horoshaya, nu poterpi eshe, eshe chut`- chut`, umnitza moya.*” He looks tired, disturbed, and so deeply worried. She understands, that something is wrong, it's written all over his face. “Ne mogu dok je ne smiriš! Mora dublje disati!*” - snaps the doctor from behind her back.

Nikolai quickly nods at him, looks back in her eyes and makes the least expected  suggestion. “Ok, my dear, let's sing a bit together.” And before she can figure out what Nick just asked her for, he starts humming softly into her face. “Pust` begut neuklyzhe peshehodi po luzham, a voda po asfal`tu rekoi…*” She looks at him in disbelief for a second. A freaking soviet children song about a ‘Birthday, that comes only once in a year’? Now? Here?! But then she feels a tremendously intense pain, as the medic begins removing a particularly huge fragment of smelted synthetic textile from one of her wounds. So she opens her mouth and start half hissing, half moaning the next line of the song. And it works: even though it doesn't sooth the pain - the measured rhythm of the song makes her breathe more evenly in time to sing the next line. “U-umnichka moya, molodetz kakaya!*” - cooes Nik and keeps singing along. 

The scene is absolutely bizarre to every single person taking part in it. The flickering light of floor lamps directed at the table, the heavy smell of alcohol, blood, sweat and singed flesh, swearing in Croatian, English, Russian, a children's song, barely audible in the sobs.

When it all ends, the medic is escorted outside the flat. "Nikad nisi bio ovdje.*" Nikolai pairs it with a nice stack of banknotes and a gaze of a man, who isn't joking around. 

***

She falls into a feverish dream, when all medical sedatives finally kick in. She doesn't know, how long she lies on a table, and how she ends in a bed. She doesn't hear her own screams, when she accidentally turns on her back while sleeping, but wakes up, when she feels his fingers brushing over her face. Maybe it's just another part of her dream, where she mumbles him something in their mother tongue, and he answers, a low voice reverberating in his chest, to which she is pressed in order to not roll back again. She is yet to realize, what exactly happened and what challenge is she now facing. But what she is certain of - there is an ally right next to her. Not a faceless sum of his past deeds, not the embodiment of everything she hated since childhood, having fled her country. No, there was a friend next to her now. “Nikolai? Why didn't you let Price simply extract us? Just call it my failure. I mean, since I've treated you like shit previously - I deserve to learn my lesson…” “Go to sleep, little one… My heart is full of pity.”

*Hochesh chto-nibud` skazat` - skazhi eto mne v litzo… (Russian) - You have anything to say - say it to my face…

*Tvoyu mat`! Kakaya naher operatziya, ya yeyo provalila! (Russian) - Fuck! What bloody operation are you talking about? I've just failed it!

Nu-nu, moya horoshaya, nu poterpi eshe, eshe chut`- chut`, umnitza moya. (Russian) - There-there, my dear, hold on just a little bit longer, my darling.

*Ne mogu dok je ne smiriš! Mora dublje disati! (Croatian) - I can't do it, till you steady her! She needs to breathe deeper!

*Pust` begut neuklyzhe peshehodi po luzham, a voda po asfal`tu rekoi… (Russian) - first line of a famous soviet song from a cartoon. Full version with English subtitles here.

*U-umnichka moya, molodetz kakaya! (Russian) - My darling, well done!

*Nikad nisi bio ovdje (Croatian) - You have never been here.

[lemonhemlock]

I dont see Helaena cheating. I see her having feelings for Aemond both romantic and sexual in nature but I don't see her cheating. And IK people bring up the "so you don't want female characters to have agency and sexually fulfilled lives? So you think only men are allowed to cheat? So you think all people with autism are aroace robots with no interest in sex?" arguments and I believe some anti-helaemonds genuinely smack of that kind of thinking, but something it's simply: I just don't think Heleana is that kind of character from what we have gotten. Helaena not cheating doesn't mean all real woman cant ever cheat or all female characters cant ever cheat, its just in Helaena's case she does not. There are female characters who cheat, not as many as men, but they're there. I don't see why Helaena specifically not cheating would be such a big blow? Is it because of the autism? In that case the scarcity of autistic characters should be criticised IMO; we shouldn't need to make one autistic fill a niche by herself. Thats just sad tbh.

It's the only reason I don't believe anything happened between Helaemond on the show and will be very surprised if it has or will unless helaena does a 180, which IG could be a kinda fun angle - her becoming more like Aegon/a Dragon. But there's so much gonna be going on I don't know if we need this. I'm just a little sick of Aemond I guess.

Just to maybe drop a different perspective.

hey there, i want to take this opportunity to assure everyone that, with all my ranting, i'm not really a prescriptivist person, bent on shaping the way people interact with their chosen piece of media :)

so, if that's your interpretation of helaena's character, that's completely fine in my book, and you are entitled to your headcanons. don't get me wrong here, i'm not trying to police the way people consume fiction or how they like to play in their own sandboxes, lord knows there is enough room for all of us under the sun. so, if you think that she wouldn't cheat for various reasons, i'm not here to contradict your view specifically and tell you you're wrong. our opposing opinions can co-exist just fine in the space-time continuum. :))

personally speaking, i interpret their social & familial roles breaking down so much within this cycle of generational inbreeding that whatever this is doesn't even register as cheating anymore since the regular boundaries start bleeding into one another. but that's bc that's what i find a really cool idea to explore, others can and should come up with their own takes

i only take issue with a certain type of moral framework that excludes all other possible interpretations bc it doesn't fall within whatever the circulated papal bull stipulates at the moment. especially when it's over really silly stuff like this. meaning to say that other people are not stupid or badly-intentioned or sinister or secret team black sleeper agents :)) for enjoying alternative possibilities. and, i have to say, it does feel really kind of rotten when you hear how other greens talk about helaemonds like they carry the plague, bc i think there are some really lovely people in this little internet niche that could contribute in a lot of positive ways to the fandom.

i, for one, can't control how people choose to judge me for not shutting up about this (lmao this really unintentionally feels like coming out, which is absolutely ridiculous, touch-grass-levels), but i'd think it rather childish if 1. i felt force to go underground and lie about it so people wouldn't blacklist me for this dumb reason and 2. i couldn't really engage in other ways bc people formed this unfair opinion that i'm some tainted radioactive waste. i write a lot of meta on a lot on topics and i enjoy talking to a wide range of people, which is why i rarely even block, so, that's just a personal disappointment i would have as a fandom navigator.

at the end of the day, it's.... you know, whatever, as far as i'm concerned, because i have a big mouth anyway and i don't really shut up IRL either, so, in that regard i had to already teflonize myself. but i feel like a lot of users are held back from participating and being more active for fear of judgment, which is just a damn shame, as the toxic voices always tend to drown out the ones who would really help turn this place into a more pleasant experience for everyone

so, what can i say, i'm a big softie, y'all

[mindrole]

i feel like its obvious that com will deal with issues of identity given it is touched on with hatsutori specifically regarding his fragment status— compartmentalized in the conflict of "savior or human"— of course it is not so binary as i word it, there is a fluidity between the humanity that minoru saw in hatsutori and the supposed godhood that noriyuki latched onto in his idolatry of him... of course at the end of the tunnel is theodore's "you are just a normal person anything extraordinary about you came from me".

but in and of itself, the fact that hatsutori existed, he exists beyond what minor or noriyuki or even theodore think. between all these schools of thought is his own lived reality, and his own lived experience, his own lived delusion and chasing of being "a savior" even if he laughs and knows there is an element of farce to it, though in the next moment he's on the ground throwing a tantrum and foaming at the mouth because it is a farce. i think com will be similar...

though i think the issue is, hatsutori never hid his condition, he used it possibly to its full potential. ryuu is probably the same, being a mercenary he probably had no issues running around with pink hair and red eyes and not aging at all. of course the fact that he is sheepish about his appearance is more about the fact that he has skin grafts and eyes that do not belong to him that are supposedly mot easy on the eyes, rather than the traits of a fragment. but my point is, these two don't have to conceal it. hatsutori being some kind of christ-like figure, ryuu coming from a dark "anything goes" background.

azuma, igarashi and misumi are public figures, we know nothing about the lengths that azuma and igarashi take to hide their physical abnormalities, but misumi shaved his entire head + wore sunglasses indoors for a while at some point and still hides it now.

i think for miwa his lived reality is much, much more complicated. because his existence is a lie predicated on a lie. and then some. no one else is going to the lengths of concealing his identity as a fragment as far as he goes (based on current information). without exaggeration i think one of the most important moments in the interlude is ryuu finding the wig and contacts in miwa's bathroom. which of course means that dita's appearance is pretty much what miwa actually looks like aside from the cosplay. how much would that fuck anyone up, honestly... but it is not just two modes. imo, if i were to make it as simple as possible:

teita miwa, boy idol and i bold this because the boy idol part is the important part here

dita iliner, magical boy, a fictional character

the teita miwa who embodies the ideal, the middle of the venn diagram, which basically does not exist. it is not possible for such a thing to exist.

teita miwa himself, the lived reality that exists between all of these, the one who wishes for such an impossible ideal

anyway, i think assertions like "dita is the real person" and "miwa wants to become dita" are either wildly off or are undercooked and surface level. i do not think miwa wants to become dita. i think what is likely is that it is not normal to have the qualities that fragments have. he's an unaging manlet with pink hair and red eyes. in the real world i do not think that is an easy pill to swallow for most people. he takes off the wig and it's over really. so he's bound to that. it would be easy to drift into "but dita isn't real, so it's fine if he's like that". it goes without saying but dita was absolutely modeled after miwa from the start, a character tailor made for him to play, so that does not help things. so possibly, miwa wants a world where being himself is acceptable and normal. that place is obviously rosemaria, a fictional world where a magical boy with strange powers and exaggerated qualities can exist. he would not be judged in such a place. so perhaps it starts out like that.

like this its still a little simple. i will not go into it and will give an abstract of it, but my theory is that ditasword was a machination of azuma created to test mutei's theories in a multitude of ways, including visiting other dimensions. i personally think that miwa is absolutely a pawn in this plan. whether it is escapism founded in acting out a fictional character that carries your undesirable traits and is loved and accepted for it that eventually morphs into wanting to go to rosemaria OR if it was the latter from the start... it would simply be that miwa would have that single minded goal. until the filming of the final movie or perhaps before but at the latest around that time, when he has his retirement date silently set months in advance, presumably preparing to disappear forever and become his ideal self. its not so simple, but this is the plan. i think in this moment he begins to realize that he still wants to be teita miwa, the boy idol. that he grew attached to that lie. dita and idol miwa are both flagrant lies, but having lived both in some form, there is a lived reality in them. just because he was pretending and lying doesn't suddenly mean the years he lived working as an idol were fake. they were him, and he did that himself. hell, "boy idol" teita miwa is something he may be more attached to than the identity of dita. but it has an expiration date so it's not like he can call it off (nevermind the fact that the false identity of teita miwa the boy idol itself is probably also starting to get a little too old for the "boy" part, but he doesn't age so...), nor can he abandon what he wanted the entire time, which is to live freely. FREELY without having to lie about who he is.

it goes without saying that the idea of "going to rosemaria" is a farce. yes he is going, but there is something very fishy about it, and his going of it in com is absolutely predicated on foul play, considering the condition of his apartment. if he goes there, what happens next? does he just stay there? dita is still just a character he plays, and eventually a fake world like that is just like gum you chew too much, what happens then? will azuma extract him? or will he be abandoned in a fake world and be left to rot there? we don't know if gajra and eigha are fake or not (eigha is likely sentient and possessing one of the actors who portrayed him... but that is a topic of another post) but it is strange. either way, one day the honeymoon period will be over.

there is a teita miwa that exists beyond all of this and com will definitely largely look into that. its not unlikely has a great dislike for his abnormalities, and is only able to accept that part of him when he's playing a corny and highly heightened fictional existence. he might want to be free of hiding it, but also wants it to go away all together so he can be "normal". more than any other fragment. what miwa wants most of all is the love and acceptance and ironically, the mundane "normal" that dita is privileged with. going to rosemaria is the only way to achieve this in his mind, but it really is all a farce from start to finish.

(there is also a lot to unpack about how eigha plays into this, like is it a desire for loving family or what, there is simply too much we do not know about miwa and other players involved but lol. it goes without saying there are parallels between ryuu and eigha even if i want to be very careful and say that im not ever implying theyre the same or share the relationship that miwa and dita have at all. its likely eigha is much more linked to other things.. but multifaceted things exist, you know?) but it's really not possible the way things are right now (pre-com 2018)

anyway, i drew this horrible picture while thinking about how to word all this (theres probably stuff i forgot to mention and i wont realize until i publish this):

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Felton - Baby on the Brain

A/N - First request! I hope this is what you wanted, I really like this idea. I don’t know Tom, nor do I claim to, and the other characters are fictional figments. To celebrate 100 followers, I'm uploading this early. Thank you!

Warnings - overloads of fluff, mentions of baby sick, mild language, slight angst, hints to a breeding kink whoops, lightly implied smut.

Summary - Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Tom’s bruised knuckles rap thrice against the oak wood of his brother's front door, squeezing your smaller, trembling hand in his, running his fingers over the band of the ring in pride of place. Taking a deep breath in sync with yours, he turns his twinkling blue eyes towards you, lending you a twitch of a reassuring smile.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s only my brother,” he says, his voice gruff following the cigarette he smoked in the car.

“It’s the baby I wanna see,” you breathe, “less nervous, more jittery.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone for tea this morning instead of a double shot coffee.”

You nudge his ribs with your elbow, and then his overly sensitive hip bone with yours, coaxing a gentle chuckle from his lips, “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t kept me up so late.”

The devilish, shit-eating grin creeping onto his lips tells you that he feels no remorse, but then again, you’d take tiredness and a night like that over anything. His fingers twine tighter around yours as footsteps begin to shuffle behind the door, followed by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech, absolutely unholy.

“See he’s having fun with the kid, then?” you begin to whisper, but your words trail off as Tom’s very exhausted looking brother appears in the doorway, feeding bottle in hand, burping rag over his shoulder, deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

“Alright mate?” Tom greets, stepping one loafer-clad foot over the threshold, offering his brother a man hug.

“Tired, yeah. How you doing, man?” he responds warmly, patting Tom’s back.

“I’m good, I’m good, Jon.” Tom says, though you can feel him almost imperceptibly tense beside you.

Turning ever so slightly, all eyes are cast on you. Naturally, you offer Tom’s brother your warmest smile, teeth and all, sympathy welling both in your eyes and your heart. Kids must be tough if he looks like this with a three-week old.

“And who’s this?” Jonathan asks, sweetly, inquisitive more than anything, though he does look at you a bit peculiarly, scrutinising you, perhaps your outfit, the mom jeans you paired with a cropped cardigan perhaps not his style.

“This is my fiancée, Y/N.” Tom says, his words holding an inflection or pride perhaps, but whatever it is, it sends a pang of excitement shooting down your spine, a smirk creeping its way onto your lips, one you have to bite back, “I’m sorry I haven’t bought her over before, but you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, course. Nice to meet you.”

“And you! Where’s the baby?”

Tom chuckles softly, and he curls his arm around your body, hip to hip. “She loves kids.”

Jonathan stands aside, a welcoming hand to beckon you into his home, the laminate floors covered in baby commodities, pastel blankets strewn everywhere, but other than, surprisingly clean considering Tom mentioned his brother was a hoarder and was always the most untidy of the bunch all throughout their youth. Considering how bad Tom is and how often you’re stuck cleaning away his dirty dishes and putting his laundry on, you were expecting far worse, but maybe Tom was the worst of them all along.

He tickles between your ribs as you wander through the halls, greeted in the back room by a tiny blonde headed baby, cradled in two arms of a just as exhausted looking lady donning a kind smile, stars dancing in her eyes as she stares down at her temporarily placated child. Tufts of blonde hair pair with enamoured hazel eyes to compliment the soft yellow of their clothes and the rosiness of their chubby cheeks. The hair, the nose, the tiny dimples; this baby looks just like Tom - and all his brothers - did when they were little dots themselves. The same little treasures. You, however, were an unattractive baby compared to this ball of sunshine.

“This is Ainsley.” Tom’s sister in law says lazily, her words falling off as she gapes in adoration at the gurgling blob of joy in her embrace. “And I’m Zara.”

“I’m Y/N.” you smile widely.

Should he not know better, Tom would quite possibly think you’re going to either collapse of hyperventilate, judging by the flush of your cheeks, your elevated pulse, heart beating out of your chest, the tiny, delightful, desperate whimpering noises from the back of your throat, elicited from a single glance into the babies eyes.

Said baby begins to make some indistinguishable noises and flails its arms around faintly, feebly, in your general direction. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t do a somersault in your chest.

“M- may I hold Ainsley?” you stammer out, extending your covered arms in a similar cradle to that of Ainsley’s mother.

“God, you’d be doing me a right favour,” she retorts, her accent broad, Geordie.

She shuffles softly down the pale green sofa, so perfectly complimenting the oak floors, to make a room for you that you take gratefully, and position yourself astutely against the back of the sofa. Before retrieving the baby, though, Tom grasps for a muslin cloth and affectionately drapes it over you, affectionate in the manner that he does it with such care, grazing his thumbs over your collarbones as he goes, ever so gently, barely even a touch, but enough to let you know he’s there. He holds your gaze for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. This alone sends butterflies to your stomach and sets a sheen of fog about your head, taking you even more by surprise when the baby is laid in your arms, writhing and smiling and blinking so sweetly.

“Hiya darling,” you coo, “aren’t you just the most precious thing.”

“Gender neutral name and clothing...” Tom interjects, sidling up on the arm of the sofa beside you, “may I ask their sex and the pronouns you’re using?”

“Male, but we’re trying to be as gender neutral as possible so they can grow up not feeling pressured.”

You can’t wipe the beam from your face, or prevent the small ‘awwh!’ from escaping under your breath, curling the cloth slightly around the child, “That’s a wonderful attitude. Tommy, would you fetch my bag from the car, please?”

In a second, he’s bouncing up, his hand thrust deep in his chinos to fish for the car key. “You asked me to grab it before we got out as well, sorry sweetheart. Back in a minute.” With a nod to his brother, he’s racing out the door, his footsteps thundering through the house. Your attention, however, remains glued to the baby.

“Would you like me to set them down for tummy time afterwards, or is he going back to sleep?” You ponder aloud, eyes glued to the wry tufts of hair so soft and silky between your fingers.

“If he falls asleep in your arms, that’s fab. We’re just livin’ minute by minute.”

You release a small laugh, “Fair enough.”

Jon sits beside you tentatively, between yourself and his wife, his arm wrapping around her as she leans her body weight against him, her hair--held in a bun before, now just kind of flopping into her eyeline--tickling her shoulder and causing him to wince a little.

“How do you know so much about babies?”

The sigh you don’t mean to release is wistful at best, plain pining at worst--and probably most obvious. “I’ve always wanted them, kids, but Tommy’s the first guy I’ve settled down with, but despite being engaged, we’re still taking things slowly.”-- You shrug, as best as you can with the baby in hold, and cock your head to the side to peer down better at every tiny freckle on Ainsley’s skin.--“I love him to bits, but he wants to wait, and I’m still young, a good chunk younger than he is.”

“If it helps,” he starts, “I’ve never seen Tom as in love with someone as he is you. He’s besotted. You say the word, he’ll do it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make him do anything unless he’s 100% sure.”

“And that’s what makes you his perfect girl.”

Your heart swells. There’s a beat, a pause of silence, filled only with the zapping of the car outside, no more than a couple of seconds before Jon’s wife speaks again.

“Enough of that. Show us the ring!”

If they’re all this excitable at something as simple as your engagement ring, perhaps you’ll fit in with his family better than you anticipated. ** Certainly, if their amiable gasps are anything to go by as you display your hand to them, your ring finger held out, supporting Ainsley’s head in the crook of your elbow as they gawk at the diamond glistening in the sunlight streaming in from their floor-to-ceiling patio doors. You have to admit it’s a pretty damn beautiful ring, the one you always dreamed of. An oval cut 0.5ct diamond held in place by a delicate split-shank 18ct gold band. It glows ethereally in whatever light there is, but most spectacularly in Tom’s eyes.

“It’s the most gorgeous ring,” she gushes, “apart from mine.”

A smile creeps its way in. You’re not entirely sure what the hell you’ve done right in your life to deserve this incredible, expensive ring, or even Tom for that reason. This is the life you’ve always dreamed of, the one that Tom’s brother has, and if you’re even half as happy as they are after being married for 5 years then you’ll consider your life to be a great success. You always wanted the quiet family life in the suburbs, with a lovely house and a nice garden and a couple of kids, working a part time job that pays well and allows you time for your children and your husband… then you fell in love with him. Loving Tom, though, that’s the true gift in your life, and you’d take him over that life any day. He’s the best, truly.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, since Tom comes puffing into the room, his heavy footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway as he hands over your abnormally large handbag.

“Here,” he gasps, but turns his gaze upon your hand, witnessing their marvelling at the rock he put there, “it is a pretty boss ring, isn’t it? Worth every penny.”

He bends down to ghost a kiss over your lips, his slightly long dark-blonde hair tickling your cheeks, smiling warmly down at you before deciding to sidle up next to you in the small gap between you and the arm of the sofa. However, half way down, his hip bones are digging in, and he winces up like he’s just been shocked. You know how sensitive his hip bones are, a fat you use against him incredibly often for all the best reasons, but today, he’s been so good, and you shan’t make him sit uncomfortably.

Keeping your hold on Ainsley--who’s almost asleep already, quieter than he was before with only faint gurgles escaping, their eyes droopy--steady, you begin to stand, and shuffle yourself up a bit, allowing Tom to take your previous seat, before placing yourself back down with as little ‘umph’ as you can manage, hooking your thigh over tom’s in the process. He knows what to do, it’s always been your calling card at home or at a party: as soon as you sling your leg over his, he pulls you into his lap eerie time, and today is no different. Well, perhaps it is, as he furrows his dark eyebrows inquisitively, gazing adoringly at you and the child in your arms, waiting for your nod okay before he hitches his arms around your waist and tugs you, as gently as he possibly can with his delicate grip, into his lap, giving you both ample space.

“Babe,” you whisper, “can you fetch the gift out of my bag?”

He’s instantly ferreting around until he finds the presents you neatly wrapped in polka dot paper, and hands them to Jonathan. Eagerly, they're unwrapped, and it seems that your many arguments over what to get Tom’s niece or nephew were worth it, considering the fact their eyes begin to brim with tears.

A soft grey elephant plush, holding a yellow heart, embellished with ‘Ainsley Felton, love Uncle Tom’, and a Peter Rabbit china crockery set for when they’re older.

“Thank you,” Zara exclaims, the way only a mother can, in gracious relief, “they’re adorable, so perfect.”

And before you know it, both you and Tom are being embraced wholeheartedly, as though you’re already their family. It’s been a life since anyone besides Tom hugged you, but this, this is nice.

“Well, lunch?”

Said lunch is a tumultuous affair, with a delivery pizza being ordered from the local dominoes, but with Ainsley so comfortable and calm in your arms, it was an elected decision not to move him, and instead, Tom fed you your pizza. It isn’t the first time, his love language seems to be feeding you things, but normally it's strawberries or chocolate truffles. Never before have you covered an entire medium pizza being fed to you while trying to avoid dropping any toppings or tomato sauce onto a peaceful baby, but that is just an indicator for the rest of the afternoon, Tom’s hands or eyes never once leaving you.

Completely accidentally, Jonathan and his wife drift off to sleep. You smile sadly at the sight, unable to blame them, they must be knackered, the problem simply lies in the fact that Ainsley begins to stir just as they drift off.

“See if there’s any milk in the fridge, please, I think they’re using formula.” you hiss to Tom, standing up cautiously.

Aghast, he grapples for words, “I-I’m sorry, what?!”

“Forget it,” you sigh, “take the baby and change him, please.”

“Change him?!” Again, that same tone of staggered surprise. “I don’t know how!”

“You have four nieces and nephews already, yes you do. He’s going to start screaming in a minute and wake your very tired, very groggy brother. Change the baby.”

When your eyes begin to thin, nostrils flaring, eyebrows raising, he knows not to mess with you, so he swallows thickly, his throat bobbing up and down, and scoops a crying Ainsley from your arms. As he treads upstairs, you find your way back into the kitchen, and find on the counter the bottles done with their sterilisation. This is okay, this is great, you know how to do this, and years of babysitting taught you exactly how to do this. It’s almost like that scene from Outnumbered, assembling the bottle with your eyes closed, muscle memory taking over from your brain. When your eyes flutter open, you almost let out a little squeal at your achievement. If only you could learn this all over again, have this life with a little child of your own, with Tom being as good a dad as he’s acting right now. When you handed him the baby, though, you couldn’t help but notice the fear that flashed over his face, paling him a shade, his pupils dilating to erase the blue. You wish he wasn’t so scared…

A few minutes later, with the kettle boiled and the formula made, you appear in the front room where Tom is swaddling Ainsley, holding the bean against his beating heart, making only the very slightest movements to entertain them.

“Give him a bit of tummy time while the milk cools, do you want to feed him?” you offer, stepping over the threshold .

“N-no,” he exhales slowly, “I think you’d best do that. Can I just put them down?”

“I’ll grab the mat from the corner”--you spied it as you walked in, a colourful crinkle mat rolled up and tucked away from view against the cream walls, behind the flat-screen on its grand stand--“and then yeah.”

Even as he puts Ainsley down, stomach first, onto the playmat, he looks petrified. Taking a seat on the floor to watch over them, you tug on Tom’s tan trouser leg. Indecisiveness gnaws at him, tugging him away from you, but he concedes to your widened puppy eyes, and tumbles onto the shag pile rug next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like its second nature.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, course. You?”

“Yeah.”

You let your head fall to his arm, a blissful smile creeping its way onto your lips when Ainsley looks you dead in the eye, hazel orbs twinkling, full of hope.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I love you too.”

“Then why are you being so… prickly with me today?”

He shifts away from you the most miniscule amount, “I’m not.”

“We’ve been together for years, Tom. I know when you’re bloody lying.” you lower your voice for the final words, “now tell me why you’re being such a pouty puss.”

You mimic his frown, knowing full well that he hates it when you do so. He hates seeing you sad, even if it's just pretend, so makes a swooping move to kiss the frown away.

“Would you leave me if I said I didn’t want kids?” his voice breaks on the final word, little more than a whisper, but his next move is so animated that it almost startles you with the bottle in hand. “I mean, you know I want them. I love kids, I want us to have a family, but…”

“Nothing would ever make me leave you, Tom. You couldn’t do anything that’d cause me to fall out of love with you.”

The pain in your statement sends a shock through you, singing your heart, poisoning your mind, sending a sour bile running up your throat. No matter how many daggers shoot at your heart, it remains to be true. You’d do anything for him. If, tomorrow, he turned around and said he wanted the two of you to stay together but never marry and never have children, you wouldn’t back down without a fight, but you’d accept it. Despite all your lifelong hopes, nothing trumps Tom.

“I’m gonna feed Ainsley now.”

Picking the baby up from the rug, you put a bib around his neck, and throw another cloth around you, taking a seat in the corner chair to feed him.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” he says, and walks out, shoulders slumped.

You watch him wistfully as he leaves the room, and even when he returns--refusing to look at you--your gaze is still trained on his every move, slumping into the shag pile rug to watch the TV on a low volume. You can feel his eyes on you, that burning pair of eyes that follow you everywhere, your every movement, his ears honed, trained to your every shift and whisper. The second you turn upon him though, he’s looking away.

“I’ll put Ainsley down now,” you announce after burping him, “we need to leave soon if we want to make it home before dark.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye as you sashay past him, Ainsley’s cries muffled by a dummy, but the second he hears your footsteps heading back downstairs, his own begin to thunder, pounding against the stairs to meet you halfway.

“Wait,” he whispers, “come on, sit down, talk to me. I love you.”

A sigh heaves your chest, “I love you too. Talk about what?”

“You’re being arsey with me.”

“Because you said you don’t want kids!”

“Well I didn’t mean it, I’m just”--he pinches the bridge of his nose, and ushers you up on the stairs, your calves hitting the carpet--“there’s a lot to think about. We just met the kid, and I saw how your face lit up when you held him.”

“You know I want kids, Tom.”

“I know, but can we not talk about kids for a second? I want to talk about you. You’re my fiancée, I want to make you my wife. I’m just scared.”

“What of? You have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“That’s why I’m scared!” he exasperates, flailing his arms about, “I don’t want you to senselessly follow me and love me if I can’t give you what you want. I’m scared of fucking this up, fucking you up. I’m scared of this going wrong, with children or marriage or saying something wrong, because I can’t lose you.”

“Tom,” you murmur.

Your hand flies up to cup his jaw, grazing your thumb over the stubble growing there, the faintest shadow.

“I love you. I- I need you. Y/N, sweetheart, please. I just wanna stay how we are, just stay this way for a bit, slow down because the world is moving too fast, and I’m gonna fall, but I can’t drag you down with me.” he croaks, cradling your neck with trembling, callused hands. “Can we stay how we are? Just us? Just you and me?”

“Babe you aren’t gonna lose me. Everything else off the table, we’ve got this, we’ve got us. We can stop the world and get off if that's what you want. Nothing is immediate, everything can wait.” you promise, your eyes boring into his.

All at once, his lips come crashing down onto yours, swallowing any inhibitions with his lavishing tongue, his hot breath slanting and fanning over your lips, leaving innocent adoration in their wake. Until a piercing scream resounds.

“Except maybe that.”

You duck from his grip skilfully, and slip into Ainsley’s room, two fingers reaching out to tickle their stomach, causing the scream to hiccup in their throat momentarily. Then, as if wondering what to do next, he just stares up at you imploringly, questioningly.

“Come on Ainsley, I just set you down to sleep. Be good and let mummy and daddy sleep too, okay?” you coo, tucking his blanket back up to his neck, slipping his cuddly toy closer, “go back to sleep.”

This child is already one with an attitude, you can tell that by the vehemence with which he yells out. You don’t even have to think twice before you’re stooping into the cot, swathing him in blankets, and lifting him to your bosom, where his screams fall to mere gurgles.

“Do you think he’s sleeping in the bed with them?” you ask Tom, keeping your voice at a steady whisper even with the slight bounces you’re offering the baby, “because I think that causes parental problems above all else because they’re being kicked in the back all night. Still, decreases the risk of SIDS. Why do they have a cot up if they are? He can’t sleep without contact…”

You don’t even realise you’re thinking aloud until Tom presses his thumbs into your shoulders, buckling your whole body. It’s the instant tension reliever, truly, and your shoulders do seem tighter today, perhaps from all the baby wrangling.

“Lets just sit, shall we?”

You do, taking up refuge in the front room once again, with an extra blanket of his, as well as a supply of cuddly toys, rattles, and dummies. Tom watches you with fascination for the rest of the afternoon, everything you do drawing his full attention; enticing, entrapping. His heart swells at the sight of you bouncing Ainsley around to make him laugh, cooing and giggling with him to coax a smile back after a wail that you hushed down, holding him so closely as he sleeps. He’s finally seeing it, after all these years, you, in your true home habitat, caring for a child, so kindly, so motherly, so naturally. Everything you do instantly seems to set the infant at ease. He knows it should be him, Ainsley is his nephew, but… you’re just better.

In fact, before he even realises it, he’s craving what he doesn’t have. Not that he can’t have it -- you’ve been together for a long time, you’ve discussed a future with children more times than he can count, and of course he wants it. Tom, he’s always wanted to be a dad, to read his kids books and sing them lullabies and show them what daddy did for work… but it's always been a pipe dream. Your wishes of a family have never come to fruition, and all because of his selfish fears.

The world can’t stop turning just because he’s getting cold feet and wants to climb off for a minute to catch his breath. That’s not how life works. If you want something, you’ve gotta grab it by the balls, because the opportunity will be gone before you know it. And with Tom? He won’t lose you because he won’t take a chance to make you happy and give you what you want. If anything, seeing the crestfallen look that settles between your brows when you actually have to give Ainsley back to their parents just further instils and confirms the idea in his head. There’s his future, in his mind's eye, as clear as day. This is what he needs to do, but better still, this is what he wants.

The drive back to your home is spent in relative silence, and a pensive one at that. You know like instinct that Tom is replaying your final conversation with Jonathan and his wife the same way you are. After all, the simple words did put a dampener on your reconciliation. Your hand is on the gearstick the whole way, though, your fingers entwined with his, the simple contact enough for you. You were right at lunch: all day it's been his hands or his eyes on you: you like it when it's both simultaneously, the way it was when you said your goodbyes.

Tom’s hands settled on your hips, his chin atop your head, and you just fell into his enveloping warmth, smiling lazily at the couple you rescued for the afternoon.

“Thanks so much, we owe you one.” Jonathan said, giving Tom another one of those manly hugs as you stand in the dusk-darkened wooden porch.

“Really,” Zara chimed in, her feet shuffling on the tiled floor as she held her husband's hand, “you’re welcome to have him any time. That is, of course, if you don’t have a little one of your own by the time you’ve recovered from that blighter.”

You forced a dry chuckle at her words, an awkward sound, but you seemed to recover well enough, “Well Ainsley’s been a pleasure, and I’m glad we could give you some respite. Take care.”

“And you. Drive safe.”

“We will,” Tom said, offering them a smile, flashing his keys, keeping his grip on you resolute, “thanks for having us.”

Their words still loom over you like a dark cloud. It was a throwaway comment, one they’d have thought nothing of, and most people, and even you on a good day, but you’d had that… spat earlier on that changed everything. Dredging it up would just put an even further dampener on your mood, though, and with a drive home in the semi-darkness already hanging over you like a massive impending storm cloud of fear, that’s definitely not ideal.

“Nice baby, Ainsley,” Tom mentions, turning his indicator on to pull off the dual carriageway.

“Yeah, and he’s cute.”

“Nice eyes.”

And a couple more comments like those are the only conversation you share as the journey goes by, but soon enough, you’re on the home stretch, and your street rolls into view. With your head comfortably rolled back against the headrest, your eyes shut from a tiring day of exertion and childminding , you don’t notice Tom stepping out the car and unravelling his grip from you. Only does it become apparent when he opens your door and unclips your seat belt, kissing your lips tenderly, the chapped skin arising you from whatever zoned out, thoughtful state you were in before.

“Come on, let's get you inside sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking your hands in his as he helps you out the car, His chivalry never fails to astound you--he even carries your bag.

“Thanks darlin’.”

You follow him inside, kicking off your shoes routinely, shrugging off your coat to hang on the peg with your name etched above it. What happens next, though, is what shocks you the most: this isn’t part of your normal ‘returning home’ routine, not if you’ve had a day as tiring as this one. You’re neither complaining nor disappointed, though. How can you be when Tom’s lips latch onto your pulse point and he has you writhing in seconds, only his arm around the small of your back there to support you.

In one fell swoop, he has you spun around and pinned to the wall, his figure with lust-blown eyes hovering above you, every line in his face so loving, even the subtle part of his lips. They only do that when he’s so desperate to kiss you he can barely breathe, when he’s so eager to confess his love again and again that all other words are inconsequential. This is your Tom.

“Let’s try for a baby.” he says, completely resolutely, no trace of hesitation anywhere in his perfectly, delectably gruff tone. “I want one, I want us, and I don’t wanna wait to build a family with you.”

You can feel tears begin to form in the corners of your shock-widened eyes. This… this is- What changed his mind? Just hours ago, he was hell bent against the idea, but now? His cheeks are glowing at the mere prospect. Courtesy and patience be damned, that is if you can get the words out with how choked up you are…

“Really? Y-you mean it?”

His faint smile widens into a full blown grin, one that confirms everything for you. This is it, this is the Tom you agreed to marry, the happy Tom, the smiley Tom, the one who can barely contain his excitement even as he nods, a stray lock of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

Reasonably, you can’t be expected to hold back, and when his hair gets long enough that it falls into his eyeline? That’s your main weakness, so who can blame you when you catapult yourself up onto him, your legs joining around his wait, your arms settling around his neck. He holds you right back, catches you like he was already waiting, and pins you against the wall again. Perhaps the serotonin is too much as you both grin into a searing kiss, the every press of his lips against yours holding more passion than you can fathom a cohesive thought about. He’s… incredible.

And besides, with this enthusiasm, his kiss alone leaving you gasping and clutching onto his hair for some kind of grounding, perhaps it’ll be the first time lucky…

[amendments]

Pro vs Anti-shipping opinions from someone who is Neutral...and will get canceled on both sides anyway

It’s fair and 100% ok to deem ships that are problematic, “problematic”, and be uncomfortable with them...and maybe even try to discourage people from shipping them, but you absolutely do not have the right to act like an authoritarian little sh!t and dictate what people can and can’t do. Block and move on.

Proshippers can effectively draw/write/create whatever they want. This is the internet and no matter how much you whine and complain, the internet isn’t going to adopt a pro-censorship stance. However, if you create content for an obviously disgusting pair, you’re going to get criticism, and people are going to find you creepy. You will be judged, even if you’re using your ship as a coping mechanism. No one is free from it.

Criticism, suggestions, and expression of discomfort are NOT BULLYING. If someone doesn’t like your ship, too bad. However, if you’re blatantly telling someone to kay why ess, hurt themselves, giving them some type of violent threat, or are doxxing them, you’re a disgusting person and no better than the people who commit said actions you’re against.

If you’re a proshipper and bullying kids, you’re also apart of the problem. Be the bigger person and block/report.

No, not all proshippers are creeps, some are just people who are anti-censorship, sick of PC culture and ship said ships out of spite, and/or don’t actually like anything bad themselves.

No, not all antis are annoying harassers, stalkers, or minors, some are people who are genuinely concerned about the questionable work you put out or may expose to minors/victims. Also, the lack of restrictions of minors in NSFW spaces is...sus -_-

Yes, there are predators in proship spaces, but there are also predators in antiship spaces, and literally everywhere else on the internet. This isn’t a ship problem, it’s a fandom problem.

Antis who claim that neutral people are just as bad as proshippers, actually push us away. You aren’t making us want to side with you. In fact, you’re doing the opposite. Most people who are neutral/position-less are actually people who really don’t care. Why? Because ships and fandoms don’t engulf our lives, and we actually have more important things to worry about than bullsh!t that strangers online are fighting about.

No, not saying anything or having a position on a topic is not inherently condoning it, it’s just not involving yourself in the problem. -_- It’s hard to really speak about something that’s not on your radar.

No, literally nobody in real life cares, or will care, about this debate. Most people (surprise, surprise) don’t really care about fandoms in general. (Amazing I know). Frankly, I’ve seen people on both sides that are waaaay to invested in this discourse and need to go outside. If you are super passionate about literal internet discourse, go to the park and touch grass.

Antis who are minors, I can genuinely tell you, that no, bosses in the real world really don’t care about what their employees do as hobbies outside of work. If you actually tried to contact employers about NSFW art (of fictional characters) that an employee drew on their own free time, unless you give them actual evidence of them acting inappropriately towards real people, they will ignore you. It is only a concern if that person has actually expressed illegal behavior which could put actual people in danger. (BDSM art of All Might and Deku isn’t going to get someone fired).

Antis, yeah, people will find problematic ships gross, if you tell someone about them. But, unless they are actively involved in internet fandom culture, which the vast majority of people aren’t, they’ll completely forget about it 5 mins later.

Proshippers, no, people in real life don’t care about what you ship in your private life, but if you make your whole identity about your ship, or proshipping, people will think you’re a creep. You’re chronically online. Get a hobby outside of internet discourse.

I will unfollow problematic people, and people who have caused harm, but if you tag me because I’m following a proshipper, simply because they are a proshipper, and have not actually been a perve to real children, I’m not unfollowing them. And if you pester me about it, I will unfollow, block, and report YOU. Who I follow is my business, and I will not tolerate being harassed over Twitter drama. Buzz off.

I will also not unfollow someone who identifies as an anti, or simply criticized your ship if you do not give me evidence of them actually harassing people. I am allowed to have an opinion and engage with people who have similar disapproving opinions. Who I choose to interact with is my business alone.

I’m not un-tweeting a tweet just because a self proclaimed “proshipper” or “anti” tweeted it. Good art is good art, and good takes are good takes.

Some of you overuse the word “p£do” in references to ships. I don’t care how you view it, a ship between an adult and a minor that has a 2-3 year age gap is not p€dop1llic. This age gap is completely common among teenagers in real life, and you’re honestly sheltered if you think that’s automatically predatory. A 16 year old dating an 18 year old is a LOT less worse than a 20 year old dating a 30 year old, and the latter isn’t any less predatory or weird just because they’re both adults.

No, ships between two adults with a very large age gap, are technically not p€doph1llic, either. They may be predatory in nature, and you may perceive them as wrong and gross, but if it ain’t already illegal in real life, then it definitely ain’t on paper.

It doesn’t matter if she’s 1000 years old, we all know what the underlying intention of that character design is, buddy.

Speaking of underlying intentions, there’s a lot of unspoken racism and xenophobia rampant in anti-spaces...like more so than in pro-ship spaces. Racism is everywhere in fandoms, but white, western antishippers are...a particular breed...oozing with arrogance and ethnocentrism.

Thanks for reading my rambling novel if you made it to the end, this is just a venting post. I hate discourse.

[inklings-challenge]

Inklings Challenge FAQ

(Or at least, what I imagine people might want to ask.)

What is the Inklings Challenge?

The Inklings Challenge is an invitation for Christian science fiction and fantasy writers to create stories that fit the Christian worldview. The event runs from October 1st to October 21st, 2021. Participants are divided into three separate groups and challenged to write a story that fits the assigned topic.

Team Lewis

Portal Fantasy: Stories where someone from the real world explores a new world

Space Travel: Stories about traveling through space or exploring other planets

Team Tolkien

Secondary World Fantasy: Stories that takes place in an imaginary realm that’s completely separate from our world

Time Travel: Any story where the characters get to travel in time

Team Chesterton

Intrusive Fantasy: Stories where the fantastical elements intrude into the real world

Technology: Stories exploring how a particular technological advance could affect people right here on current or future Earth

These teams will be assigned at random on October 1st, 2021. Writers are then encouraged to write a story before the deadline on October 21st.

In addition, the stories should fit one of seven provided Christian themes. These themes are meant to serve as inspiration, and to provide a uniquely Christian flavor to the stories.

Incarnation

Stewardship

Sacrifice

Humility

Grace

Mystery

Reconciliation

Finished stories can be posted to a tumblr blog. The post should also be tagged #inklings-challenge, and tagged with the name of your particular team: #team-lewis, #team-tolkien, or #team-chesterton, so it can be shared on the main Inklings Challenge blog.

How do I sign up?

Send a message to the inklings-challenge blog, either through direct message, ask, or by replying to this post, the Official Annoucement Post, or the Participant List. If you express your interest by October 1st, you'll be added to the Participant List and assigned to one of the teams. (And if you’ve expressed interest in previous replies or reblogs, check the list first, as you may already be on it).

What if I don’t finish by the deadline?

Post it anyway! In the original version of this challenge, Tolkien never finished his story! The idea is to create whatever you can, and we welcome unfinished stories. Show us what you’ve accomplished. If you like, you can also post the finished version at a later date, and I’ll make an effort to share it on the main blog.

What if I finish early?

Post it! I’ll share it to the main blog, and it’ll provide inspiration for other writers. If you’re feeling ambitious, create more stories within your assigned topics, or pick another theme to explore.

What if my story isn’t any good? Do I have to post?

No one’s judging this. This is a fun challenge, not a contest, and I hope that it will inspire people to push past that voice of criticism and just share whatever they come up with. If you really don’t want to post what you’ve created, no one’s going to force you to, but I hope you’ll join in the fun.

If you just plain don’t have enough to post–say, if the month gets away from you and you wind up with half a sentence–you’re always welcome to keep working on it and post something more substantial at a later date. You could also make a post describing what you'd have liked to do with the story, or what you plan to do as you continue to write it.

Can I use characters or settings from my other stories?

Absolutely! This can be a great way to expand your story world. As long as the story fits your assigned topic, you’re welcome to use any settings or characters you might have created for other works. However, it’d be nice if the story you write can stand alone, so readers can understand it without any knowledge of other works in the world.

What if I don’t like my team’s assigned topics?

I encourage everyone to at least try to come up with a story that fits one of their assigned topics. That’s the challenge portion of The Inklings Challenge–it’ll stretch your imagination and get you to work outside of your comfort zone. The categories are broad, and you should be able to come up with an angle that interests you.

However, if there’s a particular topic that calls to you in another team’s options, you can stretch the definitions to make it fit your own topic. What’s to say the portal in the portal fantasy can’t lead to a future cyberpunk universe dealing with new technological advances? Explore a secondary world of elves in space if you want to. Be creative!

Do I have to write an allegory or include religion?

You are welcome to write an allegory or to explicitly explore religion if you want to, but you’re certainly not required to. The goal is merely to write stories that fit within the Christian worldview, not to preach.

What if I can’t think of an idea?

I’ll provide (completely optional) prompts in other posts as we prepare for the contest. I can’t promise anything spectacular or brilliant or even helpful, but I hope something within the lists can provide a spark of inspiration.

How do I incorporate the theme?

The themes list is meant to serve as inspiration, to help you think of possible directions for your plot or characters. Your story doesn’t need to be some grand, beautiful exploration of all the theological implications of the concept; just touch upon some aspect of the theme. I’ve chosen most of them for their storytelling potential. For example, Sacrifice lends itself to stories of heroes enduring challenges for the sake of others, while Mystery suggests the wonder and curiosity of exploring a new world, and Humility provides great potential for character arcs–pride goeth before the fall, after all. Be creative and let God inspire you. You’re also more than welcome to write your story first, and then decide which of the themes it fits; the categories are broad enough that I’d be very surprised if anyone could write a story that didn’t fit at least one of them.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Lovely Bree, how are you doing? Firstly thank you so much for the amazing questions that you sent me for E & P. I loved answering them❤ Sending you a few questions about Ethan and Lilac which you have to answer as them💕

For Both:

1. Imagine you both are rival Detectives assigned to a common case. Who will be the one to solve it first? Or will you both join hands and solve it together?

2. What is the funniest thing your partner has done when they were drunk?

3. Favourite ice cream flavor of your partner?

4. What is a funny habit of your partner that you secretly like?

5. Have you ever done something only and only to annoy your partner?

6. How does your partner react when they are jealous?

For Lilac:

1. If you had to say I love you to Ethan without actually saying the words, how would you do it?

2. What is something that would make Ethan blush immediately?

3. If you were given an option to choose between writing a letter to Ethan once every month or writing him small notes everyday, which one would you choose?

4. What is the sweetest gift he has ever given you?

5. If you had to assign your relationship a fanfiction trope, which one would you choose?

For Ethan:

1. What is something that you started doing after getting into a relationship with Lilac?

2. If you could pick any three places to take her on a date, which ones would you choose? (They can anywhere around the world)

3. You have been asked to put together a care package for Lilac. What things do you put in it?

4. Which hobbies/interests of Lilac do you find weird?

5. If you had to put together a bouquet for Lilac usig any two flowers, which ones would you choose?

Thank you so much for these! I am so happy you liked the Ethan x Pooja ones. And it means so much that you UNO reverse card-ed me! LOVE YOU!

For Both:

1. Imagine you both are rival Detectives assigned to a common case. Who will be the one to solve it first? Or will you both join hands and solve it together?

Lilac: *giddy with excitement*

Ethan: Here we go...

Lilac: First, rival detectives? That would be so hot. Ethan would secretly be in love with me, no doubt about it. He'd walk around his precinct, in a foul mood after a run-in with that insolent Detective Allende. He'd go on rants through gritted teeth about how she thinks she's above procedure and how she fancies herself a rebel--

Ethan: You're having way too much fun with this.

Lilac: --but really he'd be frustrated that he couldn't press me against a wall and kiss me senseless.

Ethan: *doesn't deny it* You're forgetting the original question, love.

Lilac: I'm setting the stage, babe. You being madly in love with me is important to the plot. Okay, so regarding the case... Even though we would each make impressive headway by ourselves, we are each missing a piece the other has. For example, I'd be pretty good about examining the timeline and interviewing suspects and any person of interest.

Ethan: Then, with the information she secures, I would be relentless about acquiring hard evidence that could really lead to a conviction. We would make a stellar team.

Lilac: Once you focused on the case and not on my lips.

Ethan: *with a ghost of a smile* An impossible feat but one I have years of experience trying to achieve.

2. What is the funniest thing your partner has done when they were drunk?

Ethan: My alcohol tolerance is excellent. I don't get drunk.

Lilac: Yes, he does. He might not be a loud, emotional drunk like I am, but his cheeks get flushed the cutest shade of red and his eyes sparkle in the sexiest way. He gets into this highly intellectual and argumentative state of mind, challenging anyone who is nearby to a philosophical debate. The funniest thing he's done while drunk is lecture my friends and I about why do we, as humans, strive for perfection if it is not attainable. It was hot.

Ethan: It was necessary.

Lilac: None of my friends were up for the challenge. It’s difficult to initiate an intellectual debate with Cardi B playing in the background and with tequila shots flowing freely amongst the group.

Ethan: Speaking of non-stop tequila shots, the funniest thing Lilac has done while intoxicated is text me incessantly, telling me how much she missed me and how badly she wished I was next to her.

Lilac: That’s more sweet than it is funny, babe.

Ethan: I was right next to you. I was the one holding you up for balance. 

3. Favourite ice cream flavor of your partner?

Lilac: My husband doesn’t care much for your run-of-the-mill ice cream pint. His favorite flavor is mascarpone with wild berries gelato. He also loves Affogato. Naturally. 

Ethan: Lilac loves most flavors, especially anything with dark chocolate. But even more than ice cream, she loves--

Lilac: Fro-yo

Ethan: -- frozen yogurt. Plain tart with strawberries, blueberries, and granola. 

4. What is a funny habit of your partner that you secretly like?

Ethan: I love the scented candles she’s so fond of having around the house. 

Lilac: I knew it!  My favorite funny habit of his is when he tucks Jenner in at night. He pretends that dog isn’t our fur baby, but Ethan plays the perfect father every day.

Ethan: He’s a pet, Lilac, not a child.

Lilac: He’s a baby and the being you professed to love most in the world.

Ethan: *holding her gaze* Not anymore.

5. Have you ever done something only and only to annoy your partner?

Lilac: Yes! I asked him to take me to Rome for our honeymoon only so I could order an Espresso Romano. 

Ethan: Exactly what I asked you not to do. 

Lilac: You mean what you were rambling about during our first date? Because I’m counting that.

Ethan: Fine. I was far too distracted by the beautiful doctor in front of me. It just slipped out. I never imagined I’d be marrying you one day and taking you on a honeymoon to Rome.

Lilac: But I bet if you knew that much then, you wouldn’t have minded.

Ethan: No, I wouldn’t have. 

6. How does your partner react when they are jealous?

Lilac: He clenches that magnificent jaw of his and speaks in growls. 

Ethan: *shaking his head* She stays really quiet and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. Then, minutes later, she’ll start asking me “causal” questions about the person she’s jealous of. 

Lilac: I have to gather as much intel as possible about this rival of mine.

Ethan: *lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles* There’s no such rivalry, love. No one will ever capture my attention like you have. 

For Lilac:

1. If you had to say I love you to Ethan without actually saying the words, how would you do it?

Lilac: I would hold his gaze as I press my body close to his, raising myself on my tip toes to press a single kiss on his cheek. I’d trace the pad of my thumb along his cheekbone, my other hand at his chest. I do it everyday... Everyday since the attack, when we couldn’t touch each other without plastic in the way. It’s my quiet way of telling him how much I love him and how I’m not going anywhere. 

2. What is something that would make Ethan blush immediately?

Lilac: *laughs* It’s so easy to make him blush for someone so stoic. A sure way is to lean in and whisper anything romantic in his ear. It can be anything really and he’ll turn beet red. It’s so endearing. He will get this little surprised look on his face, as though he can’t believe what’s happening.

Ethan: That’s because I can’t. I am unable to believe my luck that the most beautiful woman on Earth loves me as much as I love her.

*Lilac blushes. Ethan looks satisfied and completely in awe of her.*

3. If you were given an option to choose between writing a letter to Ethan once every month or writing him small notes everyday, which one would you choose?

Lilac: The notes, for sure! In fact, I already write him those almost every morning and ever evening. He even bought a magnetic whiteboard for the refrigerator for me to write those. He insists on taking a picture of them before we erase them. 

4. What is the sweetest gift he has ever given you?

Lilac: He flew my whole family from LA, including my grandma, to celebrate my last birthday in Cape Cod. It was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. 

5. If you had to assign your relationship a fanfiction trope, which one would you choose?

Ethan: What the hell is fanfiction?

Lilac: It’s exactly what it sounds like, babe. It’s pieces of fiction written about fans of a work. For example, people who love Harry Potter will then go and write their own works with these characters. 

Ethan: People do that?

Lilac: Hey, don’t knock it! Some people are so talented and put out excellent works. I used to read HP fanfiction when I was in high school and undergrad.

Ethan: I’m not judging at all. On the contrary, I’m surprised people do this for free. I admire the dedication.

Lilac: Our trope would absolutely be slow burn.

Ethan: ...?

Lilac: It means it took us entirely too long to end up together.

Ethan: Ah. In that case, I agree. 

For Ethan:

1. What is something that you started doing after getting into a relationship with Lilac?

Ethan: Homemade salsa. My wife is very particular about it and will eat most meals with it. She will not accept anything less than homemade and I love her for it. 

2. If you could pick any three places to take her on a date, which ones would you choose? (They can anywhere around the world)

Ethan: She doesn’t know this but, I am taking her to France for the final part of our honeymoon. Our schedules didn’t allow for the extended honeymoon we both wanted, so we split it up into parts. She still thinks it was only two parts, Rome and the Mayan Riviera, but I’m taking her to France next month. She’s always wanted to go to Paris, the countryside, and the French Riviera. 

3. You have been asked to put together a care package for Lilac. What things do you put in it?

Ethan: She told me about the candy her grandmother used to bring her from Mexico. Those would go in there. I’d add essential oils, since she’s fond of those. I’d add her favorite scented lotions and those fuzzy socks she collects. 

4. Which hobbies/interests of Lilac do you find weird?

Ethan: I don’t understand her complicated orders for iced coffee when we go to a coffeeshop. She will give the poor barista a long list of flavors she wants, describe in number of “pumps”. It’s iced coffee! There’s no amount of flavoring that could salvage that atrocity.  

5. If you had to put together a bouquet for Lilac using any two flowers, which ones would you choose?

Ethan: *smiles briefly* I would consider lilacs to tease her. She pretends to hate them because they’re her namesake and people have always assumed she likes them solely for that reason. Now, she likes them because she knows I am fond of them. They remind me of her for obvious reasons but also because they are the earliest flowers to bloom in Spring. They represent renewal, hope for something better to come, and first love. I found all of those things in Lilac. 

But since this bouquet is for her, I would use peonies and sunflowers since they are her favorites. Maybe jasmines since it’s her favorite scent. 

[imagine-your-love-story]

For the anon who's a minor currently,,,,

I was in the same situation. A character I fell for way before I knew of self shipping when I was 15 - he was also merely 15.

And for me he didn't grow up. I lost touch with him time and time again, yet I'd sometimes go back to him out of the blue. Despite me hitting adulthood, he gave me the comfort I needed sometimes. My brain still feels and thinks the same as back then when I was 15. For me personally it's odd that people restrict F/O's based on age, because for us who started self ship when we were minors - our faves might not always grow up. And we still feel just as safe with them.

As long as you're not harming anyone and just have the sweet moments for yourself to cheer up, don't worry about this. You'll see whether you "grow out" or your F/O or not. And either way, it's no one's business to judge that without knowing the background.

This is a great response! Thank you so much for sharing!

Your comments bring up another thought that I'd like to point out (and wow I got long winded :P )

For some people, they have unresolved trauma of some kind, especially originating in childhood. This trauma can be anything - social rejection, emotional abuse, physical abuse, neglect, etc.

In order to cope with this trauma, you practice a process called "healing the inner child". Essentially, this is parenting yourself and giving yourself the support you sought in childhood but never received.

For some people, they might see themselves in these young characters. And it's really, REALLY important that you DON'T just cut them off when you are no longer a minor if you are not ready to let them go.

Why?

Because those young characters bring comfort and support to you. They make you feel seen and understood in a way that no one else offered to you, no matter how much you might have desperately needed it.

This kind of emotional and psychological support is absolutely 100000% crucial to feeling confident and strong and capable no matter what age you are.

Healing your inner child often encourages people to speak to themselves in a way that they should have received as a child. It's important to validate those feelings in order to make you feel more prepared and capable in adulthood.

For example, my mother was very critical when I was growing up. At a very young age, I was saddled with immense adult responsibility. My mother did not ever say, "I'm proud of you" for anything. Instead, she said things like, "Wow, you're really full of yourself when you accomplish something, aren't you?"

So as an adult, I have to learn how to re-parent myself. When I accomplish something, I tell myself, "I'm proud of you."

Recently, I bought a stuffed animal because I was always made to feel that they were childish and immature. I was taught a lot of shame as a child. So I have to re-learn my childhood and re-build it myself, doing traditionally childhood things in order to re-create the experience and unlearn that shame.

That's why I ALWAYS recommend people still maintain a connection with those underage characters because those characters represent comfort for you that you still need. Cutting them off can create anxiety and shame and those are negative feelings that can hurt you in the long run.

Fictional characters represent something that resonates with you. You feel safe with them. You feel understood with them. You feel a level of comfort with them that staves off stress. You feel loved and maybe even powerful.

Don't cut off something that makes you feel that way! Just because you're an adult doesn't mean you have to immediately throw out what brings you comfort and happiness when *some random person on the internet* insists "that's only for children! you're disgusting!"

(you're not disgusting)

Obviously, this has absolutely nothing with encouraging adult x minor ships. This is about validation, comfort, and empowering you to be kind to yourself and protect the things that make you feel safe and loved.

When you feel ready, you will know that you are no longer interested in any given character. But it has literally nothing to do with turning a certain age. Be gentle with yourself and release your f/os if/when you're ready and you alone will know when that is.

Yes, chances are, someone will shame you about this. I've received several messages over the last 24 hours, full of venom and vitriol, accusing me of being garbage for promoting adult x minor ships, which I'm clearly not doing.

You do not need to respond to or engage with people like this.

If someone is actually, genuinely concerned about your behavior, there is a way to bring it up in a respectful manner without blaming or making you feel like a bad person (you're not, you might need support, maybe, but that does not make you a bad person).

But anyone who flings accusations and shame and anger, those are emotions coming from a place that needs healing.

That is their problem to deal with. Not yours. You do not need to respond because it actually has nothing to do with you.

So please nurture your favorite character for as long as you want to! ♥ And if you ever feel confused, hurt, exhausted, angry, or just overall unsure of anything, please feel free to DM me and I would love to chat! ♥

[miss-smutty]

The Destructive Secret

Chapter 4

Summary- You've got a secret to hide and it's going to cause complete and utter devastation. It's only so long until your lies are going to catch up to you.

Pairing- Chris Hems x Reader x Liam Hems

Word count- 2,211

Warnings- Smut, swearing, angst, cheating

18+ Only!!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 29th June 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @mostly-marvel-musings @longlostinanotherworld

>The Destructive Secret Masterlist<

"No not married but you do know her. You know her really well actually." Chris says while avoiding your gaze purposefully...

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, silence so acute you could hear a pin drop. Liam waiting for an answer, Chris looking at his feet and you looking visibly anxious. Chris had drank way too much and now he was about to let all of your secrets loose. This isn't the way you want Liam to find out, surely Chris wouldn't be so cruel.

"I suppose you're not gonna tell me who it is?" 

"Not just yet, see how we go." He looked at you, if he so much as even looked slightly smug you would have slapped him right across his face. Instead you could see the hurt in his eyes, tears welling in the corners. You're both faced with an impossible dilemma, Chris wants you all to himself but doesn't want to lose his brother in the process and you want it all over and done with but don't want to hurt Liam. The latter of both is inevitable but you would take all the blame just so Chris didn't have to lose his brother, given the choice you would lose them both just so that didn't happen.

"Well on that note, I need to go to bed. I've gotta be up early in the morning." You avoid Chris' gaze, you're angry with him but you don't want to cause him more pain. 

"Yeah me too. I better get going. Thank you for dinner Y/N, it was lovely."

You risk a short glance at him, you're eyes softening when they meet. The moment broken when Liam speaks, reminding you where you are and who you're with right at this moment in time.

"Are you for real? You're really going to drop a bombshell like that and then leave? Fuck man." Liam runs his hand through his hair, letting air out of his cheeks exasperatedly.

"Sorry bro, I'll save the excitement for another night. I've said too much already." Chris apologises with his eyes as he passes you, his hands twitching by his side's with the need to touch you.

                             ******************

The next morning when you wake, your heart sinks knowing all the turmoil you're going to have to go through just to make it to the hotel without being spotted. All the messing about and hiding you have to do, checking in under a false name at different times. Making sure nobody follows you to the hotel and especially no one follows Chris. Getting caught checking into the same hotel would be dreadful, it wouldn't take a genius for the press to put two and two together, they wouldn't even care if it was true or not as long as they sold copies.

"Right babe, I'm ready to go." You pull your suitcase towards the door, stopping to wrap your arms around Liam.

"Have a good time, I'll see you soon." Wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and lifting your feet from the ground in a squeezy hug. "I'll miss you." 

"I'll miss you too, bye babe." 

"Bye. Love you. Let me know when you get checked in." He kisses you goodbye before watching you leave.

"Will do, Love you." You say over your shoulder, climbing into your silver, Audi convertible.

This is the part you hate the most, the part that made you question whether it was all worth it. It was, of course or you wouldn't be doing it, you wouldn't put yourself through having to pretend to be somebody else and praying your not caught by anyone. It only takes one person to notice you and Chris in the same hotel and it's over. You imagine having an affair is hard work whatever your circumstances but when your boyfriend and your lover are as famous as they are it becomes impossible. It's terrifying. 

You spent the car journey constantly checking your mirrors and making sure you weren't being followed. A huge sunhat and even bigger sunglasses covering your face as your heart beated faster than you thought was possible. A couple of laps around the hotel, making doubly sure you weren't being followed before you finally pulled into the carpark.

You had to constantly think, you couldn't let your guard drop for even a moment and it was exhausting. You were ready for it to be over and done with now, this just isn't fun anymore. Maybe you could run away together and start a new life somewhere else. Which one would you pick though? Who are you ready to give up? Would there even be an option to choose? Would Liam even be willing to forgive you if he knew you were sleeping with his brother? In love with his brother.

Your heart beating out of your chest, your fight or flight well and truly kicking in now as you walk up to the front desk. If there's any recognition in the receptionists eyes you're ready to turn right around and leave. The girl behind the desk, with long blonde hair has her eyes on the computer In front of her, thankfully not paying you much attention as you stand and wait for her to finish.

"Hi I'd like to book a room for two nights please." You stutter nervously, subconsciously checking over your shoulder while you spoke.

"Of course, is it just for yourself?" 

"Yes please, I'm just here for a work conference. I'd like a double bed if possible though, I haven't been able to sleep in a single since I was young." You giggle nervously, embarrassed that you'd told her information she isn't even slightly interested in.

"No problem, I'll see what I have for you." Her eyes barely left her computer as she spoke, she definitely didn't recognise you. The tension in your muscles relaxed a little as your eyes scanned the lobby.

"What name is it please?" She asked, one of the moments you'd been dreading. You hate lying but luckily you'd already come up with the fake name you were using, one you'd already used many times before in the exact same situation. It never gets any easier.

"Jessica Crawley." The names tumbled from your lips, names that had absolutely no meaning to you. 

"Room 101, floor 5. Is there anything else I can help you with?" 

"No thank you, that's great." The overwhelming feeling of relief at completing step one without any problems, rushes over you. Adrenaline spiking, making your legs feel like jelly.

"You're welcome, enjoy your stay. Don't hesitate to let me know if you have any questions." The girl says, smiling sweetly at you before going back to her work.

The elevator seemed to take forever to make its way down to you, your feet shuffling as you watched the numbers above the door, counting down. The overwhelming need to get to privacy and away from the many prying eyes of the people in the lobby was severe. Most were business men and women, that were so consumed in themselves they weren't paying special attention to anyone around them. There were also young couples, making their way through the lobby, probably on their way for lunch but the people that worried you the most were the random loners sat in the armchairs scattered around the lobby. They'd chosen the perfect place to watch, some pretending to read newspapers while their eyes discreetly scanned over the top.

They were much more inquisitive, much like yourself they paid more attention to the people around them. People watchers you liked to call them, these are the sorts of people that make you nervous. They see everything, noticing any minor details, you'd spent a lifetime perfecting 'people watching' which is how you knew to be wary. You could pretty much judge a person's personality just by watching them for a couple of minutes. If anyone was to spot you it would be one of these people. You felt thankful you weren't Chris, there is absolutely no way he was going to make it to the elevator without being seen at least once.

                             *******************

Chris didn't feel quite as nervous as you, this was a every day occurance in his life, avoiding paparazzi was near impossible for him. As long as you weren't seen going in to the hotel then it wouldn't matter about him being seen. Still, he'd worn his baseball cap and sunglasses to at least try and hide his identity. He wasn't nervous about being seen but more about having to face you after his fuck up last night. Now that thought was way more intimidating to him.

Casually strolling into the hotel, he tried to ignore the whispers of the people around him. People questioning if it was really him, young girls barely out of high school giggling at the sight of him. Chris quietly prayed that he would make it up to the room without anyone asking for a photo, not that he usually minded but today all he wanted was to spend every possible minute with you as he could.

The receptionist tried to make a fuss when his identity was confirmed during check in. The pale skin of the same blonde girl who'd checked you in, had turned a rather bright shade of red when she heard Chris' sexy Australian accent. You wouldn't blame her, it still makes you swoon whenever you heard him speak.

"I'm fine honestly, I don't want any special treatment. Actually if I could get away with going completely unnoticed during my stay, I will speak to your boss myself and tell them how accomodating you'd been." 

"Oh wow, really? Thank you so much Mr Hemsworth. I will make sure nobody bothers you and if you need anything at all just give me a call, I'll make sure you won't have to leave your room for anything." Chris smiled, pretending not to notice how she seemed to be flirting with him, badly. Tossing her hair over shoulder as she insinuated not so subtly for him to let her know if he wanted any 'special' treatment. Again, you don't blame the girl, infact you would've commended her confidence.

She handed over the keys to the penthouse, watching bright eyed as he walked to the elevator, pulling out his phone as he stepped straight in. 

"Hi babe, I've booked the penthouse suite, meet me up there?" Smiling a tight lipped smile at the girl behind the desk, who was still watching him intently as the elevator doors closed.

"Ok, it isn't very inconspicuous staying in the penthouse is it?" You shouldn't be surprised, he does it everytime. You remember the first time you ever saw a penthouse and how amazed you were that it was actually bigger than your own home at the time. That was a memory you shared with Liam, all of your first times had been with Liam, the thought made your heart sink.

"I mean they knew who I was as soon as I walked in, I think it would look more suspicious if I didn't stay in a suite." Chris answered, pulling you from your thoughts.

"I suppose that's true, I'll be up soon." You could hear the sadness in your voice, something you had to snap out of before meeting Chris.

"Good because I can't wait to get my hands on you." 

Sinking back onto the spongey mattress of your bed, tiredness washing over you already. The mental exhaustion of constantly having to play games and be on your guard at all times, catching up to you as you're finally alone.

Maybe that's what you need afterall, a chance to be alone to gather your thoughts, to workout your own needs and wants without spreading your attention between the two brothers.

You make a mental list of the pros and cons of both of them knowing deep down if Liam were the one for you, you'd have never have looked twice at Chris. They were so similar in a lot of ways but completely different in others.

Liam was the sweetest man you knew, so gentle and caring, attentive to your every whim and being so young when you first got together he was everything you were looking for.

Now being a woman that has gone through so much trauma in her life that had tainted your soul, darkened it with a lust for more.

Then Chris came along, he was still sweet and caring but less attentive to your needs unless it was in the bedroom. He was cheeky and funny, drop dead gorgeous and oozing manliness effortlessly. He was fire and passion. He was more. 

If you let yourself admit it, you wanted excitement, which is how you ended up here in the first place. You didn't want perfect anymore, you wanted a man who could do wrong and then make up for it in the most fulfilling way he knew how. Just thinking about it made your pulse race, Chris had put you through hell last night and now it was time for payback. You imagined Chris only a couple of floors above you, worried about the way you were going to act when you saw him and lord knows how much you're going to make him sweat.                    

[borhap-au]

Your villain. Rami Malek au

You really tried to keep your cool, but the sexual tension between you two was undeniable. It was the scene where you stood in a room of an old castle, and he circled around you, saying his monologue. With every step, he got a bit closer and closer to you. You took a few deep breaths to contain yourself and not kiss him right there and then, in front of everyone.

You never saw a hotter villain. He was dressed in all black, his hair was styled in a fancy way and he had that smirk on his face that just screamed “trouble!” You, on the other hand, were dressed in a long green dress. Your hair was curly and loose, with a simple tiara keeping it all together. It was a fantasy movie, but that kind which was not suitable for young audiences. Rami’s character was ruthless and cruel, and your character had to do anything in her power to stop him. But in truth, if it was up to you, you would just stop him by keeping him in your bedroom, tied to your bed.

You both had supernatural powers. You were like light and darkness and because of him, you really wanted to join the dark side. You heard the word “cut!” and the main lights went back on. Everyone loosened up and Rami finally smiled his natural, heartwarming smile.

“I think it was quite good, don’t you think? It really worked this time.” He said, approaching you.

“Oh, yes, absolutely. I think it was our best shot so far. I totally felt it.” You agreed. He smiled, being proud of both of you.

“I hope the director will think the same.” He added, and you chuckled quietly.

“If not, tell him to discuss that matter with your Oscar.” You advised him, and he chuckled as well.

Thankfully, the director liked the scene as well, so after lunch, you could move on to a different sequence. This time it was after you both had been fighting with each other, and now you were on him, holding his hands down with all the supernatural energy power you had, disabling him from using his sword. You were both breathing heavily because the fight sequence was really difficult, it was almost like a very energetic dance routine. You held his hands down with all your strength, trying to make it look believable. You leaned over him and you were supposed to say your lines right to his face, but the longer you looked into his eyes, the further your lines escaped from your mind. You looked down at his mouth. He looked at your lips as well. None of the lines mattered to either of you anymore. You knew Rami thought the same, you felt it. You started lining forward…

“You’re going to like it in hell!” Someone shouted your line to you, to help you out. But at that moment, it was no help at all. It was a simple distraction. You moved your head back, suddenly very aware of yourself and your surroundings. And all the people around you. You felt stupid for doing that, so you asked for a little break, and the director granted it to you, but also warned you to better rehearse your lines. You nodded and went back to your trailer.

You closed your eyes and leaned on the wall. What were you even thinking? And around all those people… You sighed, mad at yourself for your lack of discretion, but you weren’t left alone with your thoughts for long. You heard knocking on your trailer door and rolled your eyes. Of course, somebody wanted something from you. You couldn’t have a minute of freedom in this damn-

“Oh, hey, Rami…” You gave him a fainted smile. He asked if he could come in. “Sure,” you opened the door wider so that he could get in. When he walked right next to you, your heartbeat started to rise. You closed to the door behind him.

“So, I was thinking whether you’d like to practice a few lines from that next scene,” he suggested, and you smiled apologetically in return.

“I’m sorry, I know I was completely rubbish out there, but I promise, I learned my lines. I just… They just… Poof,” you tried to explain, but he shook his head.

“I meant that I had trouble learning my own lines and I’d like to practice so that we don’t have to take another break and piss the director off,” he smiled and you chuckled quietly.

“Yeah, no problem,” you nodded your head and took your script to check your lines for the last time. After that, you began the scene. You pretended to fight, but in a very calm way, so more like showing each other what you would do rather than actually doing it. You didn’t want to break anything in the trailer and get tired during the break that was supposed to serve as a moment to take a breath.

“You’re going to like it in hell,” you said, and it sounded exactly like you wanted it to sound – as if you two were fighting for years and this time it finally came to an end. You sounded as if you were exhausted from trying to bring him to justice; as if that was the only thing you thought about since you started doing witchcraft and after today, you could finally rest. Even Rami was impressed with how you managed to squeeze so much meaning into a single sentence.

“I’m sure I will, after all, I’ve always liked a good company, and you, my dear, are certainly a company worth keeping,” he pretended to break free from you as well as put a knife through your heart and you, with your last breath cumulated all the power to destroy him. And in that last scene, you died, embraced, after years of fighting. You were finally free, not the way your character anticipated, but free nevertheless.

It was weird how easy everything was around Rami when it was just the two of you having fun. When there were no cameras and no eyes judging your every movement.

“Well, if we do it like this, on your next movie people will discuss their artistic differences with your Oscar,” he praised you, and you immediately blushed, because nobody’s compliments counted like his. Thankfully, due to your heavy make-up and bad lighting, he didn’t really see that.

“Thank you. It means a lot,” you admitted, and he smiled at you, at which you smiled back. He looked at your lips again and you involuntarily checked his. Your heart started racing. He leaned forward and… The break was over, as your director shouted through a megaphone.

“Oh, um… Thank you so much for your help with the lines,” you added before you both left your trailer.

“No problem. You were a huge help as well,” he smiled at you, and you loved his smile more every time you saw it.

You did the scene and you did it fantastically. You even got a standing ovation from the crowd around you. After that, you were almost done for the day, you just had to repeat one scene, because the director hoped for such intense emotions as he saw in this last scene. So you did the other scene one last time.

It was your first scene together in the movie, where you two meet for the first time after a long time. He’s heard stories about you being gone, killed fighting evil so he was sure he’s safe from you. You, on the other hand, heard only stories about his atrocities, but him being very much alive, so you decided to come and change that. He spoke your fictional name and you felt shivers going down your spine.

“What an unpleasant surprise,” his character admitted, and your character, technically still a newbie in her profession, held her breath, because for the first time in her life she had to face evil on her own. You looked him directly in the eyes, and he grabbed you by your shirt, initially to shout his character’s opinion of your character’s kind in your face, but this time, it was different and you were surprised with yourself that you didn’t notice it immediately while he planned it.

After he grabbed you by your shirt, for which you were prepared, because that was in the script, came something unexpected, but much more pleasant. He kissed you. Finally, after weeks of you praying for his lips to touch yours, it really happened. Despite none of it being in the script, the director didn’t stop you. He allowed for it, because everybody on set felt the sexual tension rising between the two of you and it was rather annoying, so everybody hoped you could resolve it somehow. The screenwriter considered even making changes to the script to make you lovers in the past, so you can have that kissing scene you two needed so much.

When his lips touched yours, you immediately kissed him back. You put your hands on his cheeks, bringing him closer and he put his hands around you and did the same. The world around you two didn’t matter, because it didn’t exist at that moment. You focused on the kiss and the amazing taste of his lips, how soft and sweet they were. It was passionate, and it finally let some of the tension between the two of you go away, leaving only a nice, warm feeling of happiness. When you unwillingly let go of each other, he smiled at you, petting your cheek with his thumb.

“Thank you, for being the best partner I ever had the pleasure to work with,” he said, and you replied with a smile.

“Thank you for making this movie the nicest adventure I’ve ever been on.”

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 08

<= Chapter 7

Summary : Lukas gets a chance against one of the biggest actors ever known.

Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/81316792

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The duel you had all been awaiting for... THERE IT IS. I hope you'll like it !

Thank you, Tumblr, for making this chapter so fucking hard to post, I appreciate it, really. /s

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Chapter 8 - “So you came back... As I had planned.”

The role of the Moonjumper was both an interesting and a boring one- at least, this is what Lukas had thought to himself while he had been learning his lines. It wasn’t that this character was a bad one, no, far from it. But he was… Predictable, unoriginal in some ways even. The young man hadn’t noticed it really, while simply reading the text in his mind. But once he had said the lines out loud… This is when it started to get apparent. Of course, he had told himself he was merely a law student, so what could he know about fiction and how to interpret it? He was no specialist in that field. And yet, this is the impression the role gave to him. Not a bad one, but not a perfect one.

In short, there was room for improvement. However, this hadn’t been on his mind, or not for too long. After all, he had other preoccupations other than thinking about that. The first one had been to learn these lines, and the second and most important one… Was to teach that bastard of an actor that sometimes life could get back at you for your attitude.

And apparently, now was the moment for it.

With a wave of confidence caused by his anger towards the diva, Lukas opened his mouth and put a start to what seemed to be a duel between the two of them.

-“So you came back,” he murmured with a little smile, moving the puppet upwards, as if it were looming over Hat Kid or, in this case, MJ: “As I had planned.”

-“You took something from me,” retorted MJ, with a determined intonation that was completely different from his arrogant, usual self. This man was no doubt a very skilled actor. Even if he looked nothing like a little girl… He still managed to give the same vibes, by his movements, his expression and his voice. It was truly impressing, though the student couldn’t care much at the moment.

He needed to focus, to get himself in character… In this very instant, the young man was a mysterious and powerful entity who had been imprisoned in his own dimension for centuries. He was a monster that would lure his victims in, never for them to be seen again. What did he do with them? The script wasn’t clear about that, though there were traces that hinted he would turn them into puppets.

Quite a scary thing for a kids’ show.

The student was struggling to move the puppet with precision, due to how it was made. It was the same kind of puppet who had strings linking it to a wooden cross. It was practical in a way where he didn’t have to touch the puppet directly to move it… But on the other hand, it meant that he couldn’t do precise or specific gestures with it. This meant he would need to put extra effort on his acting, so that it would compensate the lack of gesture he could do.

Well, he hoped this wouldn’t be too noticeable… Trying his best to make the puppet raise its hand, he continued playing:

-“Oh, you mean this, perhaps?” Having no props on the scene with him made it less immersive, but thankfully, the rest of the dialogue was enough for everyone to understand what the Moonjumper was talking about: “This hourglass of yours… A powerful artifact, yes?”

Lukas’ tone was calm, reserved, but it wouldn’t last- later in the scene, the Moonjumper would become more agitated. Actually, the directives on it didn’t say he was going to get mad, per se. Still, when he read those lines, he was… Disappointed in the entity’s attitude. For a bad guy, the latter was way too mild, too nice, and… Not threatening enough.

Not frightening enough.

-“That is none of your business,” the diva replied, his tone more aggressive. His stance had tensed, giving away how important this object was for the main character, and how crucial it was to get it back.

-“Oh, is that so?” Lukas made the puppet tilt its head to the side, approaching MJ dangerously. His tone had turned icy, bitter, as if what the main character had said weren’t such a good idea: “I believe it is quite my business, on the contrary, young child,” his murmur had lowered in volume as he made another step forward.

-“It’s mine!” MJ’s voice had talked back, his expression showing a mix of anger, despair, and persistence.

-“Is it? Is it, really?” he snarled in response, starting to raise his tone a little- this was the time to put his improvisation on the table. At this point, it was make or break: “Maybe you’re lying. Perhaps you stole it. Who is there to say? Do you even know how much I need it?”

The diva in front of him seemed taken aback by him not respecting the stage direction completely. It didn’t last long, and soon enough, the hint of a smirk could be seen on the other’s face, even if just for a second. It quickly disappeared, as the actor didn’t want to break character. But Lukas saw it, and it simply enraged him.

At least, his fury in the next moments was not going to be faked.

-“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” the ‘little girl’ screamed at him, getting closer to confront him: “This isn’t a toy, this isn’t… Some weird stuff that you can use for yourself! It’s… It belongs to me, to… To my people!”

Okay, this was it, this was the most embarrassing moment of this whole scene. God, he wanted to cringe so hard just thinking about what he was going to do, but… This exact thing was the reason he got the role to begin with. So, realistically, it meant… That it was maybe his secret weapon.

Shit, that sounded so fucking stupid.

The student let out a snort, one that started to get louder and louder as seconds passed. This wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a cruel giggle, but… This scene was the finale, was something people had to remember after seeing that episode. It had to be… Intense! Full of passion, as Grooves would say, he supposed. And so… His mind conjured a picture he would never, ever forget.

MJ falling down the day before. MJ getting angry, humiliated before the entire crew, losing his job against a nobody, a simple stagehand who had been hired the same day. And, just like that… Lukas burst out laughing, his hysterical giggles echoing all around, sending shivers to the spectators as it continued. For years, the young man had been shamed for his way of laughing. His entire childhood had been spent hiding that part of him from the others, so he wouldn’t be judged and mocked for something he couldn’t even control. And here, for the first time of his entire life…

Lukas was laughing without being (too) scared of the way people would react in consequence. This was… Absolutely freeing, to feel like he could be himself, just a few instants…!

-“You think I see this as a toy? Don’t be silly, young child… This,” he spoke again, his voice dark, lifting the doll’s hand again: “… Is my salvation, the key to my esca-”

-“Okay, cut, that’s enough,” Lukas was interrupted by a familiar voice, the investor’s. His face paled up- wait, they hadn’t finished the scene, why would that man stop them? Did… Did he do wrong? He gulped down, starting to regret taking initiatives. What was he thinking? If he had a script, it was to respect it! Why did he choose the riskiest solution?! Couldn’t he just stick to the plan?!

He turned to the investor, a look of fear and confusion written all over his face. At his sides, MJ’s acting mask fell, only to be replaced by a smug expression, as he approached the student. Leaning towards him, so that only he could hear, the actor whispered:

-“You didn’t even respect your text,” the diva mocked him: “What, you thought it was a good idea to improvise? Or were you just too stupid to read the stage directions?”

Lukas glared at him, gritting his teeth- but his arch nemesis was right. He had taken initiatives and, in hindsight, this really hadn’t been the opportunity for it. This was an exam, a duel, in which they both had to prove who was a better actor. When would a good actor question a director’s orders?

The young man’s cheeks blushed both in anger and embarrassment. His eyes fell on the Conductor and DJ Grooves- both looked disappointed and perhaps a little angry. They were most likely thinking that he had just wasted a golden opportunity- he didn’t think he had acted badly, he was pretty sure his laughter had been a great addition, but his wasn’t about that.

It was about respecting the directors’ wishes, which he hadn’t done.

In an instant, Lukas’ attitude went from confidence to utter embarrassment. Oh, how he wished he could just hide underground, never to be seen again. Next to him, in comparison, MJ was simply beaming. In the distance, Mike’s expression was a mix of sadness and frustration. As for the rest of the crew… Lukas just couldn’t look at them.

It was too much. His anxiety was eating him from the inside, feeding on his self doubts, on his fears, and on how much he wanted to get out of here. Please, couldn’t he hear that he was downgraded to being a stagehand again?

The wait was unbearable.

The investor had remained silent for a few seconds, staring into space. Eventually, his eyes went back up to the two actors, and he sighed, visibly conflicted. But conflicted about what? There wasn’t anything to be conflicted about! The young man clenched his fists, trying to focus on the pain of his nails scratching his palms instead. The longer it lasted, the more he could feel his emotions getting out of control. If it continued, then… Well, he could already feel some tears making their way up to his eyes.

Oh, no, no, please, no, not in public- not next to MJ, out of every-fucking-one!

His mind went silent as he saw the investor looking at him, his face serious. This was it.

-“You don’t fit the role,” he said sternly, and Lukas felt his heart sink in his chest- he knew it, he fucking knew it, he shouldn’t have tried to take risks! This wasn’t his forte, he should have stuck to rules like he always had!

-“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” a sarcastic scoff left the actor’s lips at his sides, only making the student feel even worse than he already was: “Who could have ever thought hiring a stagehand to do some professional work was a bad idea- oh, yeah. I did,” the asshole’s voice became serious, sending huge and bitter “I told you so” vibes.

God, Lukas just wanted to punch his face so bad…! And the humiliation he was feeling wasn’t helping him either- fuck, fuck, he could feel the urge to cry getting harder and harder to suppress.

The investor raised his hand, his expression still as serious as before:

-“I’m not finished,” he interrupted the other’s celebration before crossing his hands, lost in thoughts: “This… Is not something I had expected, I have to admit that much.”

-“Wha-” MJ seemed confused and tilted his head to the side, frowning: “What do you mean?” he pressed the older man, visibly not liking where this was going. Lukas was just as confused as him, not really understanding where the other was getting at. And, to be fair, so was everyone else in the room, especially the two directors, who exchanged a perplexed look.

What the hell was going on?

It took approximately thirty, long seconds for the investor to find his words, and he crossed his arms, looking back at the student.

-“You don’t fit the role, because this character doesn’t fit you.”

There was a short silence in the room, before MJ broke it, an insincere smile taking place onto his lips:

-“I’m sorry,” he snorted sarcastically: “This role doesn’t fit him because he doesn’t know how to act,” the jerk enunciated, as if it were obvious- and it was. Still, the other shook his head and tapped the script resting on his legs with the back of his fingers.

-“No, he does. But his acting doesn’t fit a character like this,” he explained better, and he opened the script to continue: “See, I only got to read the script before, today is the first time I’m seeing it actually being rehearsed. And it made me notice that… This character isn’t good. In fact, he’s bad.”

This last statement cast a chill in the room, making people frown in confusion and incomprehension. However, for the two directors, it was more than that. It was more pronounced, more… Visible.

-“Wh- What d’you mean?” the Conductor exclaimed, holding his own copy of the script and flipping the pages frantically. DJ Grooves was more reserved, but he was clearly furrowing his brow, shaking his head:

-“But… But we sent you the script a few times, and you validated this version,” he retorted: “I don’t understand why suddenly this character is bad to you.”

The investor pointed at the two young men on the scene, his head turning back to look at the directors:

-“It’s one thing to read the script, and it’s another to experience it. The Moonjumper is bland, he doesn’t have any personality, he looks like any other bad guy, he feels… Unoriginal. I’m honestly feeling like I was watching something made by teenagers.”

It was clear that this last sentence deeply offended the two men, and Grooves had to grab the Conductor’s arm, so that the latter could keep his mouth shut. But, oh, it was obvious they wanted to talk back. Still, it was best to be polite with the person funding your entire project.

-“Which is why you need a good actor,” MJ tried to interject, placing his hand over his heart as he tried to persuade the benefactor to choose him instead. But he was soon cut short by the man’s voice again, disagreeing with him:

-“No, MJ, you don’t understand. This character is badly written, and this puppet,” he nodded to the object still in Lukas’ hands: “… Is too scary for kids. On one hand, you have this character without any personality, and on the other, you have this puppet which design has to change.”

At the mention of the puppet, a familiar person moved across the crowd to join the conversation. Without much surprise, it was Mike, whose expression showed concern and confusion:

-“W-wait,” he called out to the investor, not knowing what to do with his own hands: “I don’t… I was asked to make a scary puppet, I-”

-“And you did way too much. Furthermore… Our friend here had some trouble moving the puppet around,” he pointed to the student, whose face paled up as everyone’s eyes glanced at him. Oh, shit, no, he didn’t want to be implicated in this…!

-“This puppet wasn’t made with the idea of interacting with props. It can’t hold things and even if it could, it seems complicated to make it express emotions or body language. In short, I want the puppet to be redesigned entirely.”

Mike’s face paled at the investor’s decision, and Lukas couldn’t blame him. It was months of work thrown away like it was nothing. He was about to say something against it, but MJ beat him to it, defending his brother for the student’s greatest surprise:

-“And you had to wait until it was finished to say something about it?” the actor’s tone was getting more aggressive as he gestured at his brother: “He spent nights working on that! And you decide to just… Scrap it away?!”

Lukas… Really hadn’t expected the other to care, especially with how the latter had thrown the puppet to the floor the day before. Then again, they were twins, and Mike did seem to care about his brother… So maybe the feeling was mutual, just… Unbalanced, perhaps?

-“I know, and I take full responsibility for that,” retorted the man with determination: “The other reason I want a redesign is that I want this character to change. I want another one instead, one that is original, and not… The typical cliché of a bad guy.”

Before MJ was able to talk back, the Conductor interjected, his expression really showing he wasn’t liking anything that was being said at the moment.

-“Are you serious?!” he finally snapped, his Scottish accent more audible than ever: “Do you expect us to rewrite the entire thing?! After all the time it took us?!”

Grooves tried to calm the Conductor down, but it was in vain. All he could do was to push him lightly to the side, before the other reacted violently by shoving him back, not wanting to be touched, especially by him. Still, that got the message across, and DJ Grooves got the opportunity to talk:

-“It’s… Not possible to rewrite anything, the deadlines are too short for our budget and-”

-“In that case, if this is the way to avoid a catastrophic show, then I’ll fund this project for a little longer. But I do not want to see my money being wasted on some poorly written story,” he sighed, obviously aware of how much his words had irritated the entire crew, who was now glaring daggers at him: “I know I am responsible for saying that too late, which is why I will give you more time and money to adjust tactics. But this,” he gestured to the puppet and the script: “… Has to change. I’m not asking for a complete rework of the script, but I want us to talk about the modifications we need to implement.”

After the announcement regarding the deadlines being postponed, the crew did lose some animosity, though it was still very much there, especially for the two directors who had to rewrite a good chunk of what they thought was a final version. Mike, in comparison, looked much more disappointed and sad than anything else, which made Lukas feel bad for him. He wanted to comfort his friend, trying to encourage him- but before he even could, MJ’s voice rose again in the room, catching everyone’s attention once more:

-“And what about the original problem, hm?” he urged the benefactor: “If there’s no Moonjumper anymore, then… What about the new character?” He then gestured at Lukas as if he were showing something disgusting- and yeah, that was pretty insulting: “You’re not… Going to choose an inexperienced stagehand for a major role, are you? You need someone who knows how to act, not… Not someone who can’t even respect the stage directions!”

The student gritted his teeth again- but he couldn’t deny the last point, as it was true. Then again, that didn’t mean he couldn’t defend himself:

-“At least, I respect other people,” he mumbled, loud enough for the diva to hear. Unsurprisingly, the latter turned to him, his eyes wide and his expression furious:

-“Excuse me?!” he retorted, outraged: “I know what acting is, and it’s following the script!”

-“Oh sure, that’s clearlymore important than being a decent human being!” the young man rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. This seemed to be what made the actor snap. The latter rushed towards him, his fist raised, prepared to hit- but thankfully, Mike knew his brother enough to anticipate it, and he dashed to grab his twin by the waist, stopping him.

-“MJ, cut it out!” yelled the puppet maker, and Lukas couldn’t help but be taken aback, not used to seeing Mike so… Angry. And yet, it was barely enough to keep MJ from trying to punch the student- he was trying to break out of his brother’s hold. Lukas couldn’t help but step back, in case the actor did manage to shove his twin aside. But it didn’t happen. Instead, the diva slowly lowered his fist, glaring at his rival with pure hatred in his eyes.

-“Will you pleasefucking stop?!” the benefactor’s loud voice called out to the group. When they all turned their head back to him, his face showed nothing but anger and annoyance. That sent shivers down Lukas’ spine, and he tensed, facing the man again like a well-behaved child. Next to him, MJ glared at the man before rolling his eyes, soon imitating his arch nemesis. Mike, upon seeing his brother had calmed down, let go of him and made a few steps back as well.

Okay, seemed like this day was getting as agitated as the previous one… Was this going to be the case for every single day? He… Didn’t know if he could handle that.

The investor let out a long, exaggerated sigh before pinching his nose, irritation written all over his face.

-“I’m… Ugh… Okay, fine. For this new character, and my decision will be final… I want the newbie on it.”

Lukas’ heart stopped beating, his eyes widening in astonishment. Wait, wait, wh-

-“What?!” the diva’s voice soon echoed around them, his tone enraged and scandalized: “You can’t be serious, he’s just-”

-“I said that my decision was final,” the benefactor reaffirmed his choice, giving the actor a very stern look of disapproval: “And if you’re unhappy with that, then you are more than welcome to leave. If you finally decide to act like an adult, then I will give you another role. But let me tell you, MJ, you’re on thin fucking ice, right now.”

The diva shot him yet another glare, his fists clenched and trembling from how livid he was. Both of them seemed to try and assert their dominance over the other… But eventually, MJ looked away and stormed off, kicking a chair as he moved through the room. It took him only a few seconds to reach the door and slam it behind him, leaving the set after another tantrum. Mike, just like the day before, quickly followed him, most likely to comfort him or at least calm him down.

In the meantime, Lukas was just… Existing, barely realizing what had been said to him. This… This was a dream, right? He was still in the workshop, taking an impromptu nap, this couldn’t be possible in real life…! And yet, it was all very real. In the back, the Conductor and Grooves seemed to have conflicted emotions: on one hand, they were very upset by the idea of rewriting a good part of their story, but on the other hand… They wouldn’t have to worry about that asshole’s attitude anymore. Still, they seemed just confused as him as to why he had been chosen. Yeah, seemed like improvising wouldn’t have been a good idea, but… Maybe in this particular case, it helped to highlight the Moonjumper’s lack of personality.

In a way… Probably not something to do in the future from now on.

Suddenly, the student was brought back to reality as he felt a hand over his shoulder, and he jumped, not expecting the sudden contact. He looked in front of him, his eyes focusing on the person he was facing: the benefactor. The latter still wasn’t smiling, and his expression was still irritated, but it didn’t seem directed at him at least:

-“Well, congrats, I guess. You did good.”

Lukas remained silent for a moment, not knowing how to answer or what to say. Eventually, he stammered a quick “thank you”, his mind still having trouble to process what had just happened.

He had the role- holy shit, he had managed to get the role, and against MJ at that!

The man pulled away and turned to the directors, telling them things Lukas could barely hear over the cacophony his minds was making. Still, inside him… A feeling of pride and accomplishment was growing, enveloping him. A wave of excitement followed, and it was hard not to jump around in pure joy and satisfaction.

Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all…

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

=> Chapter 09

[popwasabi]

Why I don’t give a fuck about canon

Recently, after randomly coming across some dope pictures of Transformer toys on Instagram that gave me a strong case of nostalgia, I was inspired to revisit an old childhood favorite in “Beast Wars.”

“Beast Wars,” in case you never watched or heard of it as a kid, is the continuation of the Transformer’s story set in the future as descendants of the Auotobots and Decepticons, the Maximals and Predacons, respectively, accidentally travel to prehistoric Earth to continue a centuries long battle between the two opposing factions.

There’s a lot of to digest there, so I’m not going to go into extreme detail over the plot, but the cast features colorful characters such as Optimus Primal, Cheetor, Rattrap, Dinobot and Megatron to name a few. They all have interesting and distinct personalities and generally play well off each other. It was a big part of my childhood and I collected an ungodly amount of their toys back in the day.

(This was my first ever Beast Wars toy and I think it’s beautiful.)

My rewatch though was…a mixed bag to say the least. The graphics have not aged well. The adventure of the week setup of the plot was repetitive and lacked real character development at times. There were characters that were added in last minute to the show clearly to promote a new action figure over the story on numerous occasions. Though I found the humor to still be pretty good, the action was stale and just lacked high stakes most of the time, save for a few episodes.

I was not shocked it didn’t land terribly well on my rewatch but you know what did? “Beast Machines!”

“Beast Machines” was the follow-up to Beast Wars that had the Maximals fighting on Cybertron where Megatron has taken control of the whole planet using a virus that changes Transformers into mindless drones to do his bidding. The remaining Maximals manage to survive however after Optimus discovers The Oracle which reformats them into animal robot hybrids that are both mechanical and biological. This sets them on a quest to stop Megatron and bring biological and mechanical balance to Cybertron once and for all.

The series is much more narrative based than the previous as it follows a steady trajectory to its epic conclusion. The animation is much sharper, and the soundtrack is fun as hell to listen to still. The pacing is much faster as the stakes couldn’t be higher for the Maximals and all the old characters from the previous grow in interesting ways and develop into more organic people (literally in some ways). Optimus is a more hardcore and emotionally damaged leader and Megatron goes from being something of a punchline in the previous series to a far more menacing and calculating nemesis. The story touches on themes of balance, authoritarianism, PTSD, love and reunion to name a few and for a kids’ show it is, dare I say…more than meets the eye.

I absolutely loved it as a kid and I might actually love it even more as an adult, so it was shocking for me, to say the least, when I read further into the history of the show, that a lot of fans straight up rejected it back in the day.

Common complaints I came across were they didn’t like how characters, such as Ratrap especially, “changed.” They didn’t like the new bio/mechanical Maximals and couldn’t believe that Cybertron was once an organic world.

Their big reason (in just about every forum and video I saw about it)? It didn’t adhere to “canon.”

Now, I’ll start this by saying there is no objective way to critique or even not critique a story. People can like or hate something for a variety of reasons that don’t follow a strict logical pattern. Gods know I have a few questionable/divisive favorites in my catalogue that I have written about here that are based on abstract ideas and personal experiences.

(The Matrix Reloaded is still great btw)

But I will say, if you judge a mega franchise’s latest entry on how well it is supported by established canon it is, in my opinion, a flawed way to critique a work of fiction.

Canon, sometimes referred to as “lore” by fans, is most often applied and used to describe the long running back stories of franchises that stretch beyond just the main books, movies or series, or even the original narrative of the plot. Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, and to a certain extent Harry Potter, all fall into this camp of series with so many interconnected parts, with more than one main character featured in each, that fans follow along this canon like ancient monks studying scripture and history books.

And they can be just as fanatical and over zealous about it.

(I wish they were more fanatical about proper hygiene or at least deodorant...)

My problem with the ways fans often view canon is that their conceptions of what a new story should be is based entirely on the past rather than what is happening right now with the story and what themes the writer is trying express with it this time. 

They base their impressions of the story on external continuity more than the internal continuity.

Yea, the changes in a series like “Beast Machines” are jarring to say the least. Cybertron was formally an organic world like Earth? Rattrap doesn’t have confidence in himself and actually at one point sells out his comrades? Transformers can be biological now? It’s a lot to take in but when watching the story play out it’s not like these elements aren’t explained through the text of the new story.

Cybertron lost balance between its robot inhabitants and its biological life forms and its why it’s out of balance now, and Megatron is the logical progression of that inbalance. Rattrap is struggling to understand his new form, half his friends on the Maximals have been turned into drones, and the remaining team out loud say they don’t have confidence in him. He has PTSD from both the events of this story and the Beast Wars and feels insecure because of how others view him and that’s perfectly logical to not just the story but also the canon. If a fan is willing to give a story a chance they will see that the canon hasn’t actually been destroyed in much of any way and the logical progression is actually there if they simply listen to what’s going on.

(Seriously, it’s not that deep.)

Fans need to stop confusing a character achieving a franchise long arc with being “suddenly different.” In this way, criticisms of canon in new entries in long running series reveal that fans really just lack imagination to connect the dots. It would be like complaining that Luke Skywalker can’t become paranoid and make a grave mistake in judgment because people never change, nevermind the character already has changed a lot from his origins in “A New Hope” to where he was in “Return of the Jedi.”

(Oh wait, people did do that…)

But that’s not to say you have to like the new direction either. You can understand these changes and still be like “well, it’s not for me. I don’t care for a PSTD angle or a new origin for Cybertron,” but that’s whole lot different than saying the new series “rapes your childhood” or “Bastardizes the canon.” All the old canon you hold nostalgia for still exists. My love for “Beast Machines” is not harmed by the existence of newer Transformers properties that don’t meet what I look for in the series.

Too often, fans take changes to established “lore” very personally because it doesn’t fit their expectations or have the same nostalgic feelings they had before. When new entries in mega franchises occur fans often try to judge it by how much it is like what they watched before, rather what makes it different and what it is saying now. Again, you don’t have to like new directions in tone or character but consistency to established work DOES NOT equal good storytelling.

I have not been immune to this myself in the past, of course. Back in the day I wrote a 2500-plus word diatribe on “The Amazing Spider-man 2” that mostly went after how it changed the character I grew up with in a bad way and butchered the established back story I knew him by.

You know what other story doesn’t follow canon very well though? “Spider-man: Homecoming.”

(Now, hear me out...)

Spider-man in the MCU is generally agreed upon to be a good thing by fans. Both movies were big hits both critically and financially and fans often go as far as to say Tom Holland is the “definitive” Peter Parker. 

But Holland’s Spider-man differs quite a bit from the comic-book webslinger. This Spider-man does not have a spidey sense. His best friend is not Harry Osbourne but in fact a retcon of a Mile Morales character. His father figure is Tony Stark, something that never happened in the comics, instead of Uncle Ben, which no matter what way you spin it is arguably his most important relationship in the series.

His character is a reverse of traditional Peter Parker too. Where comics Peter is a reluctant hero, who if anything hates being Spider-man and the burden of his responsibility, “Homecoming” Spider-man actively seeks out responsibility and in many ways enjoys his role as the famous webslinger. In fact, his whole arc is about him earning a spot as an Avenger. He wants to be THE hero and be worthy of it. It’s completely different from what we know of Spider-man.

(He just wants Tony sempai to notice him uWu)

Now I know some fans actually do complain about this Spidey from a “canon” standpoint, but most don’t. So why did this Spider-man get a pass for many but not “The Amazing” one? Quite simply it’s because stories, as cheesy as it sounds, are about feelings and stories like “Homecoming” tell a good story that effectively make those feelings connect with the audience.

We root for this Peter Parker and his journey to becoming an Avenger and successor to Iron Man because the story is told well, the emotions feel earned, and frankly both films are fun and enjoyable.

It’s easy to complain about canon for many nerds because it’s something tangible that they can point to and make a big stink about when they don’t understand why a movie isn’t reaching them. I don’t doubt that many neckbeards genuinely hate a film like “The Last Jedi” (Hell, I’m not a big fan myself) but when those same nerds enjoy something like “The Mandalorian,” a series that has its own loose relationship with canon and establishing new rules in the series, it tells me it’s not about the “lore” to them.

(Easy, fanboys...)

I have come to understand, in my growth as a nerd, that my problems with a lot of movies and TV shows in my favorite series rarely, if ever, have anything to do with the story not meeting some arbitrary guidelines regarding canon. It has more to with the story simply not connecting with me emotionally. The story isn’t drawing me in and keeping me on its narrative path. I’m not feeling the same magic that someone else might feel enjoying it because either a) it doesn’t feel earned to me or b) it just stylistically isn’t for me.

To paraphrase a line from another mega franchise, also owned by Disney, the canon is more like guidelines than actual rules.

(Didn’t expect to see ol’ Barbosa in this write up, did ye?)

It can show you where a story comes from but it isn’t law that you strictly adhere to it. Of course, when writing a new work in a popular series you should consider what came before it but I would like writer’s the freedom to try something new and most importantly fans to be open to it. You don’t have to like it but the idea that new entries in a story MUST remain strict to the canon is bull shit. Not even the original Star Wars trilogy adhered to its own canon perfectly, as clearly the writers were in fact making it up to a certain extent as they were going along.

(hmmmm...)

And that’s ok, because some of those changes were great! Made the story better and made the conclusion stronger.

Again, you don’t have to like every new entry that tries something bold or confrontational in your favorite franchise but if writers strictly followed canon to the T we wouldn’t have things like “Homecoming,” we wouldn’t have “The Mandalorian,” and we certainly wouldn’t have my favorite Transformers series “Beast Machines.”

Canon shouldn’t be a trap for writers and it shouldn’t be a litmus test for fans digesting it. There are so many better ways to judge a story than whether or not it fits neatly into established lore. A good story is a good story, regardless of whether or not it’s supported by something as static as canon.

“Beast Machines” has its flaws here and there, but canon isn’t one of them, at least not for me. Again, if you feel that the lore is important, that’s fine, you don’t have to ignore it but I would ask you to look beyond what came before when critiquing a new story.

Otherwise, you might miss something special that comes next…

Now then... 

[2ndblogg]

Hey! Just read your hot take on novel!wangxian and I absolutely agree. I'm gonna have to say here that I believe it boils down to the fetishization of homosexual men in a lot of the fandom culture that surrounds mlm shipping, as you said it's a space for a lot of women to experiment with their desires and whatnot, but I think therein lies the breaking points between reading novel!wangxian as a good, healthy relationship vs. reading it as a very flawed and toxic one. As an LGBT person, reading the way the author dealt with their relationship made me extremely uncomfortable, it just really feels like something that is written by someone who is more invested in using her queer characters for satisfying her and her reader's own pleasure than a well-built, strong relationship between two characters. Not to take away from the novel in some other aspects, I believe that novel!wwx is a much better, much more nuanced character than what he is in cql, but when it comes to wangxian, I think the intentions are very different for each of them. To each their own, I guess, but I do find it very troubling that some people in the fandom have a really hard time admitting that novel wangxian is not even remotely healthy.

Absolutely.

And can I just say how glad it makes me to see that not everyone is praising this book for it’s lgbt representation...

But I guess that’s also why I just occasionally feel the need to scream my frustrations into the void or try to make sense of the novel.

And why I try to be understanding and accepting of people’s opinion of the novel and not take it ‘personally’ (in the sense of sitting there thinking “holy shit this is how they view ME, this is what they think of ME” etc).

I was in fandoms back when they were really a place dominated by straight (homophobic) women and realism or lgbt representation wasn’t on anyone’s mind (and the occasional dude butting in to say that’s not how sex works or bottoming is experienced was ignored or told to get out). I experienced this change to fandoms being more of a lgbt space, of people becoming aware that media can shape your views of groups of people, of people becoming aware of their fetishizing of fictional gays vs. their prejudice against real life lgbt people etc.

And tbh MXTX just writes like one of those, she writes wangxian like everyone wrote their gay relationships around 2005 and earlier; clear power imbalance, clear roles and attributes that are divided into ‘manly’ and ‘feminine’, certain physical attributes (like the female self insert character aka the bottom being pretty and slight and weaker and shorter), men/the penetrating partner can’t really be raped so anything the woman/bottom tries isn’t really ‘bad’, the male love interest is forceful and self centered but ONLY because he’s so in love and since he’s emotionally stunted he has to express that through sex, men/tops NEED sex and it’s rude/mean to deny them that, the girl/bottom isn’t THAT horny or in charge of their own sexuality but wants to please their partner and what they really get out of it is the emotional aspect, decisions need to be made for them because the dude/top just knows better, the girl/bottom is childish and flirty and the guy/top suffers through it until he finally snaps and shows the girl/bottom who'sboss etc etc. (honestly homophobia and misogyny is so tightly knit in this kind of fiction, if it wasn’t so frustrating it would be very interesting).

Tbh I disagree with novel!wwx being more nuanced (despite a lot of ppl whose opinions I really respect also feeling this way), because I simply cannot seperate him from the wangxian relationship. All I see are tropes and stereotypes applied to make him ‘work’ in the context of the wangxian relationship instead of an actual personality...

To me, in CQL WWX is clearly the main character and you love his interactions with LWJ and want more of them and value them, wheras in the novel most of the time WWX plays second fiddle even when a scene should technically be about him and LWJ’s presence is incredibly suffocating, because he’s always being controlling or at the very least influencing WWX.

I also don’t feel like WWX has much of a character arc/growth. We’re essentially told he had one but the only thing that really actually changes is him hating himself a bit more and letting LWJ smash..., and I guess: he’s less independent than ever, he’s more isolated that ever...

I’ve called novel!wangxian a relationship between an abuser and his victim, because you can find evidence of that in the text. Not because I think the author wanted to portray an unhealthy gay relationship. Like you said, she was fetishizing and wrote for a similar crowd. But to me that ‘realization’ helped...I still don’t see how people can call it a masterpiece but I can at least understand hyping something you like up...

And like, badly written gay relationship or not; gay/straight,man/women, I see how people can find it hot. Exploring your sexuality through fictional characters isn’t necessarily a strictly straight girl phenomena. I probably have read fic that was exactly like this, I can’t judge anyone for it. But no one prints out the last PWP they read and goes, “this is ideal lgbt representation and nothing will ever be this good, the fact that it includes rape makes it so realistic” like????

(Is that part or an effect of the woke and purety culture? you can’t say ‘i like this book but it has flaws’ or ‘i’ve enjoyed this but it’s not up the feminism or lgbt acceptance that i preach/live’ so you have to pretend it’s flawless?)

And like, I do think novel!wangxian is a nightmare when it comes to lgbt representation and I do believe this is largely due to a cishet woman writing about gay men and fetishizing them (the fact that a lot of peoples arguments why novel!wangxian ‘is better’ boils down to ‘there’s kissing and sex’ is also pretty telling). And I am frightend and worried by some peoples response to it.

But is it really fair to see it as just that? It’s a problem sure, but that same thing happens in straight media (which I am admittedly not well versed in). Stephanie Meyer didn’t set out to write Edward Cullen to be a creep and non of the teenage girls that went crazy over him viewed it as such...Reylo fans (aside from some of them proclaiming Finn to be the real villain and saying it’s racist and misogynistic to not find Kylo Ren hot) found a way to view him threatening her as romantic and sexy, Loki fans that didn’t ship him with Thor usually fell into the camp of “he would be a perfect boyfriend” or “what if this OFC was his slave and he raped her everyday <3″... like ignoring/glorifying/romanticizing behaviours or exploring what kinks you might have through the safety of fictional characters and fictional settings isn’t JUST happening when it comes to ‘the gays’...

And not just specifically in fandom spaces either, a lot of ‘romantic’ movies include inappropriate touching, the boy/guy knowing better than the girl what she wants etc. And I absolutely do believe that that’s something that normalized these things for a lot of young girls and guys (I don’t want to get into this too much, I’ve really seen a change in the past few years, but before that it was pretty common for young boys to believe they need to keep pursuing and pressuring a girl that has said no, girls truly thought boys could die of blue balls, girls thought it was their duty as good girlfriends to let their boyfriends fuck them even when they weren’t in the mood, that they couldn’t talk about what they want in bed or what they don’t find enjoyable because ‘sex is for boys and girls get a relationship in exchange’ etc.).

And in much the same way movies have only relatively recently begun being called out for that, it’s also still pretty recently that they’re being called out for having their one queer coded character be a pedophile and a murder or whatever...Like, society as a whole becoming aware of these issues.

But do authors that publish their work with a specific target audience in mind have a responsibility to think about the effect it might have on them? (And I can already hear loud screams of ‘no way, it’s not your fault if your audience isn’t smart enough to understand that this bad thing is bad’, but I actually do believe in a way they do. That doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t write whatever you want, just maybe take a look at HOW you bring your point across. (We do KNOW people are influenced by what propaganda they’re consistantly fed. I mean, you wouldn’t write a pro-drugs childrens book...) )

What if the author isn’t aware of their bias and prejudices? Or their target audience isn’t their actual audience?

And do we, society and media, judge female and male authors differently when it comes to romance and sex in fiction? (The answer is yes btw) But also, where do we draw the line at calling something ‘badly written’ and calling it toxic? Can it be both? As I’ve said before, a lot of people claim that only the physical intimacy scenes of novel!wangxian are bad, because they’re badly written and OOC, some say the book as amazingly written and only the wangxian relationship is bad because the author doesn’t know how to write gay men. In my ‘hot take’ I essentially said that’s not necessarily bad writing so much as it’s simply an (okay, unintentional) toxic relationship. And would this relationship still come across as toxic (or badly written, whichever you want) if we didn’t know the author to be a cishet woman? Or if a gay man had written it? (my personal, eloquent answer for this is: yes, but differently.)

Which was really all just a rambly way to get to my point of: it’s not just fetishizing of gay men, it’s also the homophobia and self-inserting in a safe situation.

You can literally replace WWX in the novel with a female character and it wouldn’t change a thing. The author takes such an effort into building up this power imbalance in every aspect of their life that if WWX were a heroine nothing would change in this (sexist/ancient society) setting.

(And clearly this is something that appeals to people if you look at the amount of female!WWX fics...)

Not even the sex scenes. There are maybe two allusions in all of them combined that WWX might also have a dick but like, you can’t be sure and it sure as hell doesn’t need stimulation.

(and again, that could be written as a kink...but it’s just not.)

CQL is a gay love story. MDZS at it’s core is none of that.

But I also very much agree with your ‘to each their own’, like here I am criticizing and trying to find explanations and whatever, but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter why someone might like (or write) a book like this, I vastly prefer CQL!wangxian but people have their own reasons for not doing so.

The ‘problem’ really only lies in, as you said, people not being able to accept that it’s not a healthy relationship. Or claiming it to be perfect lgbt rep.

And because my brain can’t shut up today:

I also can’t stop thinking that the way some people ‘glorify’ the book as due to their age and ‘inexperience’.

When I was a pretty young kid and got into fanfiction, there was nothing but completely OOC!whump to be found in the first two fandoms I was in. And I loved it. It was YEARS later that I thought I might like to read something with the characters being...in character. What I’m trying to say, in different stages and phases of your life you might enjoy different things, for different reasons...and obviously, in that moment, you won’t think about ‘what appeals to me here/should this appeal to me/etc’.

I don’t mean inexperience as ‘sexual inexperience’ here, though of course that could be part of it, but also like, inexperience with this genre (is this the first book like this you read, or did you just read 50 in a row that all had the same unhealthy vibes?), with lgbt people and issues (do you know any lgbt people or is your only image of them either the cute boy you can’t have and don’t want to see with another girl or grown men in full kink gear in front of children during CSD? and also: do you think ‘i like this’ and that’s the end of it or do you notice how many people idolize this objectively unhealthy relationship and won’t allow critique on it...)  

I...just wanted to say thanks really.

I just can’t stop rambling apparently and I know I mostly just repeated what you said or what I already said but in longer... I just really do feel very strongly about novel!wangxian and the perception of them and have actually at times felt very personally...worried/affected, by people’s acceptance and love of them and I just... have to try and make sense of it...

[jooniyah]

Star-Crossed

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem Reader ; Yandere!au 

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Yandere behavior, emotional abuse, extremely unhealthy relationship, kidnapping, manipulation, profanity, mentions of mental illness, blood, knives and murder.

  Author’s note:   This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

A special mention to thank @kpopyandere​ for writing stellar yandere fics, which inspired me to try my hand at yandere!au for the first time. Thanks, @junqkook​ for writing the enthralling ‘Every Breath You Take’, the quality of which I can never dream to surpass.

Okay, read and enjoy!

                He flicked the light switch on and drawled, “I want you to go to the party with me.” Your eyes were sensitive at the sudden exposure to light. Your whole body felt suddenly warm after a long time. You didn’t know how long it had been since you were locked up here. The only thing that made sure you were alive in the place was his hauntingly ethereal face gleaming up on you from time to time. You blinked at him without saying a word. He was leaning against the doorframe, with his arms crossed. You knew you couldn’t possibly go out to a party, not with all those bruises covering your body. You shrugged your shoulders feebly and said, “I am covered in bruises.” He stepped in closer and leaned over to inspect you. “That’s not a problem. I’ll take care of it,” he said. He took the key out of his pocket. With a click, he uncuffed your hands tied behind you. Your shoulders were sore and you instinctively stretched your arms, almost hugging yourself in the process. “Really?” he asked as he bent down to stare at you. There was a dark gleam in his eyes. That same mischievous and ominous gleam. “You really should have thanked me and reached out to hug me first, you know,“ he said as he pressed his hand firmly on your aching shoulder, making you wince. “Even after four days in the darkroom, you still are a selfish ungrateful bitch,” He was pressing harder now and you opened your mouth in a silent scream.“ Make that mouth useful at least,” he said and looked at you menacingly. With trembling hands, you reached out to his face and held him closer. You made sure that there was a small gap between you so that he wouldn’t suspect your revulsion. Well, you have always been good at keeping secrets. His grip was still growing firm on your shoulder as you pulled him in towards you. Aligning your lips with his plush ones, you dove in for a kiss when he cruelly grabbed at your shoulder blade, making a stream of fresh tears fall between your lips, and stain the kiss with a saltiness that brought a devilish smile on his lips. Looping his hands under your arms, he pulled and brought you on your feet without breaking the kiss. You tried to stand, without your legs giving out after days of being handcuffed to the chair. Your legs had cramped so badly but he had refused to let you out, saying that you would stay that way until you learned your lesson. It wasn’t something new to you. Whenever he wanted to punish you, he always put you in this dark cold room in the mansion, which he liked to call his favorite darkroom for his favorite little princess, you. With wobbly legs, you followed him out of the room. You didn’t want to go back to being handcuffed again, so you decided to humor him if that meant even a little peace for you. “Thank you for letting me out, Joonie” you whispered. You wanted to say more but couldn’t, as the words of flattery in your mind made you feel disgusted. He seemed to like that and patted your head saying “ Now that’s more like it. I don’t understand why you think you need to hide how much you love me, Y/N. You pretend to dislike being with me, but I know that is not true. You are so cute when you pretend to rebel against me.” You exhaled slowly and struggled to keep your face from betraying your emotion. You were tired of his constant declarations that you loved him. Once out of the room, he dragged you to the bathroom. “Strip,” he said, letting go of you. “I’ve already bought you clothes. Wash yourself. I’d love to have you like this, but I can’t take you out and let others see how beautiful you look when you are ruined.” He stepped out of the room, letting you bathe. 

 He had already made sure you could never lock yourself inside a room. No door in the mansion could be locked from the inside. You sighed and got the hot water running in the tub. You looked at yourself in the mirror and saw a pathetic woman staring back, covered in bruises and crusted blood. You winced as you examined where he had punched your jaw two days ago. You were still not sure how he could be so doting one minute and turn into a violent brute the next. You got into the tub and worked up a lather, flinching whenever it hurt to touch anywhere bruised. All your thoughts came crashing down on you. The real words and emotions threatened to find their way out into the world. You knew better as to what would happen if Namjoon were to find out. He would punish you for even thinking your own thoughts. Even a single slip on your side would send you straight to the devil’s world. 

 At last, you deemed yourself presentable enough and stepped out, to see Namjoon standing in your dressing room with a young woman. “This is Haewon. She’ll take care of your makeup,” he said, pulling you gently towards his side. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling genuinely at you or simply faking it for Haewon’s benefit. “Uh… She looks like she’s been…” she paused for a second, “did she have an accident?” You looked at Namjoon, who held onto you and tucked a section of hair behind your ear. “She used to harm herself. But I’ve been making sure she’s getting help. In fact, I’m taking her out for a little fun because she’s been cooped up inside for so long. Don’t worry about her, she’s fine,” he responded with a devoted smile aimed straight at your eyes. Haewon nodded and smiled at you with what was supposed to be sympathy. As she moved away, he bent down to whisper in your ear. “I don’t want to hear you speaking a word to her. Don’t try to do anything stupid, baby girl,” he said as he squeezed your forearm, right at the place where he knew you had a painful contusion. You gasped silently and nodded while he let go of you. 

 Haewon began working on your battered skin to the best of her ability. She was a nice girl with blue eyes, silky blonde hair and a petite frame. She tried asking you harmless questions about yourself, but you knew better than to talk to her. If Namjoon expressly said he didn’t want you speaking, he absolutely meant it. You just smiled weakly and shook your head, hoping she would think you were tired and leave you alone. Well, she might think you were an unfriendly bitch, but it’s better to please Namjoon and steer clear of his punishments than indulge a stranger, right? By the end of an hour, Haewon had transformed you into a radically different woman. All the bruises had been expertly concealed. Namjoon had picked a soft dress in a beautiful shade of peach. It flared out at the waist in a dreamy cascade of velvet. He had bought you a pretty pair of heels to go with it. You hated to admit that he had chosen them so well. 

As you spun around, admiring yourself in the mirror, you caught sight of Namjoon standing in the doorway. He was dressed in an impeccable black suit and wore shoes that gleamed brighter than his coal-black eyes. You saw his image winking at you in the mirror and turned to face him. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, as he drew you into his arms. How you wished that would be true! You simply squirmed in his arms, wishing he were dead already. Haewon was giggling when he turned to her and pressed a wad of cash in her hand. “Thanks for your work. You made her look stunning,” he said with a grin. She nodded happily and turned to you. You broke his embrace and shook hands with her to express your thanks. “You have a wonderful boyfriend. I’m so jealous right now,” she whispered into your ears with a giggle. It grated on your nerves to hear her say that. What did she know about this ‘wonderful boyfriend’? You were annoyed that she was so quick to judge him as a great guy, without any idea of what a monster he could be. But then, you were stupid yourself. You had fallen for him just as quickly as she had. So, in a way, you were annoyed at her that she reminded you of how naive you had been. You nodded with a tight smile and said, “I know.” You were sure he had heard the whispers and would be amused to make you repeat her words. He always had fun toying with your sanity. 

After Haewon left the room, he snaked his arm around your waist and leaned into you. “ Tell me what she said,” he asked as he pressed you closer to his side. You gritted your teeth and ground out the words verbatim. You knew better than to leave out a single word. He chuckled and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “You seem to be such a good girl today. I thought you were going to try to act stupid and get punished for being a bad girl. But not today.” You thought you heard a faint disappointment in his voice. Usually, he loved it when you messed up. He always pounced on a chance to bend you over the nearest table and spank you till you cried. Or choke you till your eyes rolled back in your head, and you almost tasted death. You knew he was waiting for you to make the slightest slip up so he could have his way with you. But you were determined to last for at least a week before going back to the darkroom. Anything was better than the darkroom.

 "Babe, I’m going to drop Haewon back at the intersection. You stay here and wait for me, alright?“ he told you as he walked out of the mansion with Haewon following behind him. He had slipped a sheet of paper into your hands before leaving. “Make sure you memorize everything in this,” he had said. You watched him walk away and lock the door behind him. After he had brought you to his mansion, he had changed all the the locks to electronic ones saying that you were too precious for him to lose. At that time, being the naive girl you were, you had thought it was true and had admired the way he loved you and your flaws. You didn’t even have an inkling at that time that a life with Namjoon would be like this. When you say it like that people would think you were lucky enough to be in his life, but you knew that every single day, you struggled to keep yourself alive, with death hanging like a knife above your head. He drove away to drop Haewon off, leaving you wondering if Haewon could even trace her way back to the mansion without his help. You decided to look at the sheet you were given, and you were dumbstruck on reading it. It contained a set of questions and answers you had to memorize. You felt stupid as you read what he had written down: expected questions that you might be asked at the party, and answers for them. His answers. He had changed everything, starting from your hometown to your maiden name. He had stripped away your individuality and replaced it with a nameless, faceless stranger. The one thing you had left after meeting him was taken away from you, it left you pensive, wondering what else could be taken away.

 When he returned, he threw the door open and called out to you. You hastened to meet his arms in fear of being deemed too slow and punished. He beamed proudly as you surrendered yourself into his arms. “You look like a fairy tonight,” he murmured, “ It’s a good thing you were on your punishment for the last four days. Because you wouldn’t have fit into this dress so easily if it weren’t for the darkroom.” You felt a cold wave of sickness stab your gut when you realized he had deliberately bought a smaller dress just because he had fancied it and made you fit in it. “So, I hope you’ve been a good girl and remembered to study the character I’ve built for you?” he asked. You were foolish enough to open your mouth and ask him, “Why ….?”. You suddenly realized what you had done. He stopped in his tracks to turn. His eyes flashed a darker shade of black. With his menacing voice, he asked you, “Were you saying something, my little lamb?”. Your mind raced to think of ways to get you out of this situation. Even death would have looked the easiest way out. “I was wondering why we had to go this early to that party. Can we stay for a drink before we head out? I mean, I just wanted some alone time with you.” You faked a blush. You weren’t ready to be tortured today. You saw his face slowly stretch into a captivating smile, as the light from the chandelier fell on his face, illuminating his chiseled features. You found yourself tracing your fingers over his jawbone, earning a hot and hungry kiss in reward. It seemed to put him in a happy mood because he wore a dazzling smile which only kept getting brighter as the evening progressed.

The ride to that party was long. He was on his phone the entire time, giving you some time alone to look out the window. The city looked beautiful out there with all those colorful lights and yet here you were, sitting with the devil in a shade of grey, as if your time had stopped for a long time, wondering what went wrong and how you ended up like this. Finally, your train of thought was broken when the car came to a sudden halt. When you stepped out of the car and held onto his arms, he tossed his keys to the valet and patted your arm fondly. “I know you hate being seen or touched by other men, but I’m right here to protect you. You’ll be safe with me, I promise,” he said with intense eyes. You weren’t sure if it was meant to be a reassurance or a threat. This was the first time he was taking you out after he came ripping your life in shreds. You tightened your arm on his and said, “ I know, Joonie.” With a satisfied smile, he led you into the bright lights streaming from the hotel. 

 As you entered the banquet hall, you could sense a lot of people turning to look at you. Everyone seemed curious to know who Namjoon had on his arm. There were a lot of people who greeted Namjoon as he weaved his way towards a group of men clustered around a table. They looked at you with interest as he introduced you. You didn’t know if he would punish you later for shaking hands with them, and this got you wishing the night were over already. “So, Y/N”, said Taehyung, “ you’re the first one that the mighty Kim Namjoon has ever dated openly.” You sneaked a look at Namjoon as Taehyung continued, “Tell us what you think about him. We’re curious.” You chuckled smoothly and said,“ He’s a great guy. He’s a stickler for perfection, though. He means whatever he says”. You crossed your fingers hoping this didn’t land you in trouble later. You hadn’t gotten any pinches or painful grasps yet, so you figured everything was going well. The men had brought their girlfriends, who you shook hands with. Seokjin’s girlfriend Lee Eun Ji seemed genuinely friendly and interested in knowing you better. The men moved a bit farther, talking business as they sipped their drinks. 

You were asked friendly questions, most of which Namjoon had anticipated and provided answers with. You managed to blush and evade the ones you weren’t sure of handling. “You know, we were so curious about who the whole party was for,” So Yeon, Jimin’s girlfriend said. “ Oh?”, you blinked, “who is it for?” you enquired curiously. “Why! you sure know Namjoon arranged this whole party to show off his new girlfriend,” giggled Eun Ji. “Of course, all the businessmen here pretend it’s to toast the successful closure of the financial quarter,” she added. You didn’t know if she was joking. You looked around the room filled with people, suddenly hyper-aware of all the pair of eyes sizing you up. “Don’t be nervous, everyone here except Namjoon’s friends work under him,” said So Yeon. “What do the rest of them do?”, you asked. You were then told that the men with Namjoon were the board of directors of the company that Namjoon owned. They had been friends from school, and they had founded the company together. The only fact you had known about Namjoon before coming here was that he was a maniac and a sadist. Yet, here were people telling you that he was a person who was funny, loved to make others laugh and had normal friends. Like they say, the Devil definitely wears Prada. You hadn’t understood what the phrase meant until Namjoon came into your life. He really was a good actor, skilled at masking his true personality. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, for pretending to be someone he was not. Or was he pretending? Did he know which of his personalities was true and which was the mask? Did you know enough about him to hazard a guess? You found out he had had previous failed relationships, but none of them had lasted long enough for him to bring to his best friends. You thought you knew the reason why. Because he was a monster. You also got to know that he had studied abroad and had excellent grades. ‘Of course,’ you thought, ‘the bastard has an amazingly sharp mind’. You were surprised that he had left you unattended for so long, without breathing down your neck. You wondered if this was a test to check how much he could trust you. 

 After you started chatting with the girls, you relaxed a little and sipped your drink, feeling a little dizzy. You scanned the room, and, without warning, a thought popped into your head. What if, maybe, just maybe you could escape from his clutches this night? You found your eyes staring at the wide main door of the hall. Instinctively you felt a hot gaze burning into your back. You turned and immediately caught sight of Namjoon, who was looking at you inscrutably. You felt your head start to pound and your pulse quickened on seeing him slowly raise his eyebrows. He didn’t break eye contact with you for a whole damn minute, making your insides churn. No, you were paranoid. He couldn’t read your mind and know what you had been considering just now. Or could he? Beads of sweat rolled down your back as the thudding in your head grew louder. His eye contact was broken by a drunk and haggard conglomerate who was attempting to make a conversation with him. You swung your eyes back to Yoongi’s girlfriend and attempted to calm yourself down. Your eyes never wandered to the door again, but your mind screamed to escape his talons. A few drinks later, you decided to try your luck one last time. Namjoon had confiscated every electronic device you owned, including your cell phone, when he had brought you to his mansion. Now, you decided to take advantage of one of the girls to hatch an escape plan. "Oh!”, you gasped a fake surprise, pretending to search the insides of your clutch purse. “ I guess I’ve left it in the car”, you faked a little facepalm. “What is it?” asked Eun Ji. You gave her a beseeching look. “I thought I had my phone with me, but it seems like I left it behind,” you said. “I just remembered that I need to make a call”. You had one microsecond to choose between asking for a phone and shutting up and riding back to hell with Namjoon. You decided to risk it and continued, “ How silly of me! I have to borrow a phone, I guess.” She promptly took the bait. “You can use my phone, don’t worry,” she beamed.“ You heaved a sigh of relief, saying ” Thanks, Eun Ji. I’ll wait for you at the women’s bathroom.“ You thought on your feet and decided to go first. You didn’t want him seeing you use a phone, nor did you want him to see you going with Eun Ji. You got up and felt giddy with nervousness. Trying to be as casual as you could, you made your way to the side doors.

 Namjoon had been watching you all evening. He knew you would try to pull a stunt, and he was interested in what you would come up with. He had caught you staring at the exit, and he had seen your lips tremble when you made eye contact with him. He was amused to see you trying to hold yourself up, he felt like a puppeteer watching his puppet perform pitiably on its own. When he saw you tracing your finger over your glass thoughtfully, he wondered what was going through your pretty little head. He would let you try your tricks, but he wouldn’t mind breaking those pretty fingers if you put one toe out of his line. He thought he knew what would happen when he saw you make your way to the side door. Ladies bathroom. Convenient. He sighed. He thought you would come up with something more original and entertaining. As soon as he saw Eun Ji stand up, he ambled over to her, blocking her path smoothly. 

 You huffed in annoyance as you kept looking at the bathroom door. Women kept coming and leaving, but Eun Ji’s face never showed up. Was there any other bathroom suite? You hoped she hadn’t wandered off to some other bathroom. Time ticked on but there was no sign of the wretched woman. Now you started to panic. What if Namjoon noticed that you were gone for so long? You decided to suck it up and borrow a phone from one of the ladies in the bathroom. As you approached one woman, there was a warning bell going off in your head. Swallowing the ominous feeling in your throat, you asked her if you could use her phone. She looked at you incredulously, probably because you were her employer’s girlfriend and surely you would have a phone of your own? She handed it over and you ran to the nearest stall. With trembling fingers, you dialed your mom’s number. It was switched off. Your dad’s number was switched off too. With growing panic, you dialed the only other number you knew by heart: your best friend Seung Ho’s. Your heart lifted as you listened to the ringback tone. Finally, you heard "Hello?” You started hyperventilating as you sobbed into the phone,“ Seungah! It’s me, Y/N! Seungah, are mom and dad okay?” There was an audible gasp, followed by “Y/N? Oh my God! Are you alright? I’ve been worried sick about you! Where are you? Your dad and mom went missing too. I almost went crazy when I saw your house ransacked and found all of you missing. I’ve lodged a police complaint. Tell me where you are. Let me come and fetch you.” You started hiccuping as you told him how you were abducted by a man and imprisoned in his mansion. You were not sure whether you should tell him your abductor’s name. You knew Namjoon was capable of indescribable violence. What if you were jeopardizing Seung Ho’s life by involving him in this mess? “I’m at a hotel, he brought me out for the first time. I didn’t notice the name properly; I think it is Conrad but I’m not sure.” He was silent for a minute before asking you the monogram on the toiletries. You told him that it was an intricate C embroidered in gold. You heard someone knocking on your stall’s door. “I’ll come and get you. Stay there and don’t let him suspect anything,” he said and cut the call. You ran out, returned the phone to its owner, and fixed your dress and makeup.

 Your heart was beating wildly when you stepped out of the bathroom suite and walked towards the banquet hall. The first thing that you noticed on entering the hall was that Namjoon was missing from his group of friends. As you turned towards the table you had shared with Eun Ji and the others, you stopped abruptly in your tracks. There was Namjoon, talking earnestly to Eun Ji, apparently interested in whatever she was saying. With one swift lift of his head, he stared directly into your eyes. All the blood drained from your face as you watched him stretch his face into a slow predatory smile. Something screamed inside your head, telling you to call Seung Ho back and stop him from coming. But it was too late. With an arched eyebrow, Namjoon beckoned you to join him.

 "Eun Ji here was just telling me that you wanted a phone,“ he said silkily, his fingers ghosting your arm, "You could have just asked me, honey.” You slumped your shoulders, saying “I thought you were busy with your friends, so I asked Eun Ji.” He gave you a smile that would seem loving to any other person, but to you, it meant malevolence. “You two make a gorgeous couple,” Eun Ji giggled and winked at Namjoon. He chuckled easily and launched into a description of how cute you were. But you couldn’t listen to a word he said. Your mind was worrying profusely about Seung Ho. What would happen to him if Namjoon came to know about him? You couldn’t even imagine what the man would do to your friend. Cold fear crept its way up to your shoulders as his eyes danced all over your face, challenging you. He left saying that the food was delicious and that you should go and try the chocolate parfait. Eun Ji offered to go with you. The devil loosened his grip surprisingly and you made your way to the table farthest from him. 

 It was around 30 minutes later that you received a message through one of the waiters. He dropped a tightly rolled slip of paper on your plate as he set it down. You looked at him with a sudden jerk of your head, and he quietly motioned towards the end of the hall. There, looking at you intently, was the woman who had lent you her phone. As soon as she was sure you had caught her eyes properly, she nodded her head in one swift motion. Then she lowered her eyes to her drink and didn’t look up again. You felt your entire being trembling with fear as you thought of what would happen if your stunt transpired and Namjoon came to know. You had the sinister feeling that you were being watched. The knowledge that Namjoon had stepped out of the hall with Yoongi and hadn’t returned only served to twist the knot in your stomach tighter. Carefully, pretending to look around for a waiter, you swept your eyes throughout the hall. No Namjoon was in sight. 

 With great caution, you unrolled the paper and read its contents. “Come out as soon as you get this. I’ll come to you when I see you.” You re-read the paper to make sure it was Seung Ho’s handwriting. With another wary glance, you ascertained that Namjoon was, in fact, not in the room. None of the women at the table had seen your paper, they had been chatting in a drunken stupor. 

 You were hit by a wave of nausea. You would rather stay and die with Namjoon than see Seung Ho being hurt. What if you just slipped out, met him, told him you’d come back someday, and came back to your captor? At least Seung Ho would see you were alright and would agree to wait and plan your escape. You felt it was rational to come back tonight and try to escape another day. So, with your head spinning, you slowly traced your steps to the main door. As an afterthought, you turned and walked down the sleek wooden paneled hall and reached the side doors. You knew that hotels like these had a private entrance that was mostly connected to the fire escape. You decided it was worth a shot and crept down the fire escape, with a steady lookout for Namjoon or any of his friends. You reached the last few steps and crept along the dimly illuminated tunnel that forked out from the base of the stairs. Just like you had guessed, the tunnel led you directly to the VIP entrance. When you emerged out of the tunnel, a guard signaled for you to stop. You felt your ears ring as you complied. With a forced smile, you looked at the guard and said, “ I’m the hostess of the party at the banquet hall. Is something wrong?” His eyebrows cleared and he nodded you forward with “Nothing ma'am. Have a pleasant evening.” You couldn’t believe your luck as you sailed regally out of the gates and stepped onto the cold gravel. 

  Pressing his earpiece, the guard talked into his microphone, “ She has just left the building, she turned westward and continued down the road.”

You didn’t know where Seung Ho would be, so you were unsure of which direction you had to take. Ducking in the shadows, you reached the end of the street and remained hidden as you scanned the entire road for any sign of Seung Ho. Almost an eternity passed before you spotted a figure wearing a bomber jacket you would recognize anywhere. You silently moved towards the walking figure to meet them halfway. You were right, it really was Seung Ho. Heart beating wildly, you broke into a frantic jog and launched yourself straight into his open arms. He hugged you tight with whispers of “Are you okay?” “Are you hurt?” Without breaking the embrace, he turned you around on your heels and told you to sprint as fast as you could with him. Your brain screamed at you as to what a stupid decision it was. Yet, your legs started to move on their own. You could not help but think, what if you could run away from all this? You held his hand as you ran at breakneck speed down the road, zigzagging through the lanes and smaller streets.

 After what seemed like fifteen minutes of running, your lungs gave out and you had to stop. He pulled you into an alley and the two of you crouched in the dark. You cuddled into him, missing the wonderful presence of someone familiar. Seung Ho was shushing you, patting your back while he kept an alert vigil on the alleyway. Neither of you uttered a single word, both absorbed in your own mortal fears on what would happen if something went wrong after coming this far. You kicked yourself for running away, after all those ‘rational’ plans of returning to Namjoon as soon as you finished meeting Seung Ho. Now you were absolutely sure Namjoon would break every bone in your body if he ever got his hands on you again. You can sense that Seung Ho was confused at all this, yet he never uttered a word. After your lungs stopped feeling like you had swallowed molten lava, you jabbed Seung Ho’s shoulder and whispered, “How did you send that message to me? How were you sure it would reach me?” He winked and said, “I got another person to call the number you had called me from. When I found out that it was a woman, I called and asked if she could deliver a message to the person she had lent her phone to. She didn’t mind, so I got her name, quickly scribbled a message and sent it to her through the reception desk.” Your eyes opened in wonder and you pressed an innocent kiss on his cheek for being so smart. He gave you his cheeky grin and dismissed you as a ‘sloppy kisser’. You giggled and dug your fingers into his ribs, asking if it was time to resume running. He swept his eyes over the alleyway and nodded. Cautiously, he got up and went to check the road in case anyone was lurking there. When he was satisfied that the coast was indeed clear, he signaled you to join him. 

 The two of you were bone-tired when you reached the busy crossroads almost 3 miles from the Conrad Hotel. Considering the fact that Namjoon was probably already combing the area in search of you, Seung Ho decided to hitch a ride. He reasoned with you that it was safer because you stayed anonymous and it was more sensible than booking a cab. You agreed and waited for someone to slow down in response to Seung Ho’s outstretched thumb. You kept getting jittery as you eyed each passing car, scared of getting caught by him. Fortunately, a car slowed down, and a woman rolled down her window. Seung Ho quickly asked her if she could drop the two of you at the next metro station. She agreed and both of you hopped in with relieved smiles. 

 The woman stopped at an intersection and turned to Seung Ho saying, “ You just have to walk a couple of minutes due North and you’ll reach the metro.” You turned back and looked out of the window. There was no one in sight. You nodded your head and alighted, thanking her profusely. As soon as she drove away, Seung Ho held your hand and started walking with brisk steps. You had a sinister feeling of being followed and kept your ears tuned to the surroundings. There was a cold breeze blowing, turning your exhaled breaths into mists of warm vapor. Suddenly you heard a noise directly behind you. You could have sworn you had heard the crunch of shoes on gravel just then. Tightening your grip on Seung Ho’s hand, you started running down the poorly lit road. You ran as fast you could, and your lungs were threatening to betray you.

 As the two of you dashed forward, you ran smack into a person who seemingly materialized out of the gloomy night itself. Before you could comprehend anything, you saw a flash of black grab and yank you from Seung Ho. Your head swam as the blackness pressed you in a chokehold that grew tighter with each passing second. You almost blacked out when you heard a deep voice laced with malice croon in your ear, “Found ya, baby girl.” Before you could pass out, he loosened his grip on your throat. You fell hard on to the cold rough gravel. A dark shoe pinned your palm to the gravel and twisted it, bruising the back of your hand and crushing it against the gravel. You yelped in pain and suddenly everything came into focus. You were pinned to the ground by Namjoon’s foot, and Seung Ho was being held by a hooded stranger, with a knife dangerously close to his neck. 

 Bending down, Namjoon pulled you up by your hair, twisting it around his hand as though he owned you by the reins. With a sharp tug, he brought you upright and had you facing Seung Ho. “I was so bored, waiting for you to come out of the damned alley, princess. I almost lost my patience. But then I decided to let you think you had outsmarted me. I wanted to dangle freedom in front of you and snatch it when you thought you had almost won.” He turned your head to face him and slapped you hard across the face, making your cheek sting. “I’ve been so good to you and this is what I get for my kindness? Some selfish bitch you are. And you ran off, with him? I am so disappointed in you, Y/N.” You saw Seung Ho try to move, and the stranger pressed the blade even closer against his skin. Your eyes were blurry from all the tears threatening to spill out. You had been caught, just as you had feared. You would not be getting away with this easily. Now, because of you, Seung Ho was in harm’s way too. 

 "I saw you kiss him”, Namjoon was pressing a cold blade against your lips,“ And he called you a sloppy kisser?” he scoffed. “You had some nerve, kissing a man and hugging him like that, thinking I wouldn’t know.” So, the bastard had been following you the entire time! You tried to open your lips, but the sharp edge of the blade held firmly against your lips was drawing blood now. “ I took such good care of you, only to be repaid with this?” he twisted your hair tighter in his hand. Fat drops of tears started falling from your eyes, dampening the fabric on your chest. You couldn’t talk, not with the blade against your lips.

 You felt him relax his grip abruptly, and you fell down again, losing your balance. A sharp well-placed kick to your ribcage rendered you motionless, with nothing more than a groan escaping your bleeding lips. Lying down crumpled on the gravel, you saw Namjoon advance towards Seung Ho ominously. The stranger held Seung Ho in a firm grip. “How dare you roam your filthy fingers over her, you bastard,” Namjoon growled. “A sloppy kisser? You have the nerve to touch her and then call her a sloppy kisser?” Lip curling with rage, he placed several punches on Seung Ho’s face. Crying out for Namjoon to stop, you tried to push yourself upright. A crushing pain in your chest ran like an electric jolt throughout your body, making you fall back down, gasping in agony. “Does it hurt, baby doll?”, Namjoon cooed. “Well, you should’ve thought about it before you ran away with this scum. Now, here you are writhing in pain”, he chuckled with amusement. 

 You watched Namjoon hit Seung Ho, all the while raving obscenities at Seung Ho’s audacity in touching something that belonged solely to him. You could do nothing but cry and beg Namjoon to stop. After he had bloodied Seung Ho’s face to his satisfaction, Namjoon came back to you and pulled you upright, making sure to clutch you tight around your ribs. You were about to faint any moment because of the excruciating pain. He dragged you towards Seung Ho, who was only half-conscious. His nose had been broken, he had a cut lip and swollen jaws. Blood dripped from a cut on his brow, falling on his eyelashes and making a tiny red rivulet trickle down his face.

 "No one ever touches you anymore, nor will you ever try to leave me. For learning this lesson, the price you have to pay is quite cheap,” growled Namjoon. You were staring helplessly at your best friend when you saw a flash of silver slice the air and stab his chest. “ No!” you screamed, trying vainly to run out of Namjoon’s grasp. The sharp blade came down a couple more times on Seung Ho, draining the life slowly out of his body. Namjoon let go of you and you dropped down to your knees, scrambling to cradle Seung Ho’s head in your lap, crying all the while. He was gasping for air, eyes wide, trying to tell you something. You wailed on seeing the blood gush out rapidly, you held his head and begged him to stay with you. He leaned a little bit closer, enough for you to hear him, and whispered softly, “I am sorry. I..” But you knew everything was over when you saw Seung Ho’s eyes fixate on you, and saw the light leave his eyes. You cried uncontrollably, all your memories with him flashing in front of you. Yet, here he was, lifeless and cold.  All because of you. His beaming face, smile, kindness, and care had become something of the past all because of you.

 Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Namjoon getting down on his knees next to you. You felt his hot breath fanning your ear and turned to stare into his eyes. You were so lost in agony that you couldn’t even curse him. He pulled your hand and wrapped your fingers around the cold hilt of the knife that had pierced your best friend’s flesh. “Baby, look what you made me do,” he sighed, “His blood is staining your beautiful dress.” You looked at him with wide pupils, unable to get a word out. “Go on, I don’t mind if you hug or kiss him now. He won’t come between us anymore.” Seung Ho’s blood was seeping into the fabric of your dress, staining the pale peach fabric a bloody red. “By the way, you look ravishingly beautiful in red, darling,” Namjoon said, wiping the blade on your dress. Without any remorse, he murmured, “I’ve killed a man to protect you. I think you should consider calling me a wonderful guy next time when someone asks.” You watched the man walk away, pressing his shoes to the gravel, holding the reins of your entire being in his hands.