#can I treat them as one character at this point

[jesncin]

I think superhero fans would be in a lot more peace with both themselves and fanon interpretations once they recognize and accept that these aren't real people or real events- they're not even internally consistent under one auteur writer/artist. For capes especially, these are fictional characters that get passed under so many different pens and brushes.

Superman is an immigrant under Gene Yang or he's Not An Immigrant At All Only An American Citizen under John Byrne. Clark has been written as progressive or conservative. A character as old as him is especially mailable to over 80 years worth of different authors all with their own goals. Yes we can argue over which characterization is ideal, but we shouldn't be surprised when other people come to different conclusions. "How can there be racist Superman fans when he's the Champion of the Oppressed since his creation?" Because he's been written by so many different writers since then.

There's DC!John Constantine and there's Vertigo!John Constantine, the same character under two different publishers that drastically change both his politics and how he's characterized. Even within the original Vertigo Hellblazer run, that's 300 issues worth of story where John is written by so many writers that sometimes contradict each other or themselves. Sure, a character can have contradictory ideals because they contain multitudes, but sometimes it's just another writer coming in and retconning something to tell a different story.

Treating these characters' stories as one holistic or consistent history that can not be changed because "it's misinterpretation" or "it's not in character" or "oh somebody doesn't read the comics" or "it's just an OC at that point!" because they don't fit your personal interpretation is just so creatively bankrupt and is inviting unnecessary stress. Even if someone were to take a character and pull them an entirely new direction, why should we be mad? Canon does this all the time. And we wouldn't get creative projects like The People's Joker if we were married to the rules of canon. Let people play, and if you don't like it you really can just scroll away- it's not like it has an affect on canon. Or your own canon.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know that Yuu is gender neutral in the game for many reasons so it makes me wonder if Yuu was a girl in Conan would that change the dialogues and the way the characters interact with her?

Like not a major change to the main story or turning the game into otome but some small ones like in some characters interaction with Leona when stepping on his tail he won't want to beat us (because of the respect woman thing lol) in book one or Deuce being shy in the beginning of their friendship.

Hmm... For the most part, I honestly don't really think so? Cater still calls Yuu cute, Azul is still pretty polite, etc. Rook still waxes poetic and creepily recites your sizes, etc. regardless of gender. At best, maybe some of those traits would be exaggerated a little more or expanded on to suit the scenario?? Like maybe Ace would initially tease fem!Yuu about being at an all-boys school or something, isn't she bothered by it? But I really doubt that anyone would be tripping over themselves to protect or befriend fem!Yuu or anything, especially when most at NRC are primarily concerned with their own interests. Most of the characters aren't noted to treat women particularly differently than other genders. We also don't get to see the NRC students interacting with girls around their age either, so it's hard to discern how they'd be with them. I think even the "Deuce being shy in the beginning of the friendship" headcanon comes from a perspective colored by writings in fandom; Deuce in canon doesn't really seem to demonstrate major issues interacting with girls, at least not that I can recall. At best, he expresses surprise when Grim mistakes Epel for a girl and fails to romance the Ghost Bride (he just freezes up). I think if we eliminated romantic interest altogether--because, to be clear, one girl in a cast of mainly guys is NOT always meant to be romantic or a harem--most of the cast would be their usual selves, if not maybe a little more polite due to how they’ve been socialized to see women as the “fairer” sex. For example, Riddle, Epel, and Jade underestimate Sally, though this isn’t clear if it’s gender-based or because they sympathize with her poor home life. They may also be instances of the guys not really knowing how to deal with girls? For example, Trey fails to help Sally up after she has fallen (which Sebek chastises him for); Trey later admits that he doesn't know many women beyond his mother and sister who is 4 years younger than him. Because of this, he says it may be that he was subconsciously nervous to interact with her.

The exception to this, many would point out, is Leona, who comes from a country in which women are respected. The strange thing is, whenever this point is mentioned, I always see people speaking about it in relation to Leona and Leona only, even though Ruggie and Rook also come from the Sunset Savanna (so technically those latter two would also theoretically be respectful to women). Now, there's a lot of discussion in the fandom about just how far Leona's "feminism" (a term used by fandom, never said in official materials) stretches. The most extreme of takes paint Leona as a misandrist who actively hates on or mistreats men while upholding women as superiors. And that... Well, I don't agree with this interpretation whatsoever. Yes, Leona no doubt respects women and is more likely to listen to them if they ask him to do something (for example, attending a party for a female painting in Cater's School Uniform vignette or taking a picture of himself in his robes for his sister-in-law in his own Ceremonial Robes vignettes). However, he won't just keel over and do whatever is asked of him simply because it is coming from a woman (think back to Ghost Marriage; he was still pretty pissed off when Eliza slapped him), and nor is he shown to disparage his own gender.

Rather than putting women on a pedestal, I think it would be more accurate to say that Leona doesn't underestimate women or think lesser of them because of their gender. (If you're interested my detailed breakdown of "feminist" Leona, check out this analysis.) For example, while his classmates worry for Sally's wellbeing in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Leona lauds Sally's cunning and ability to save herself. We also get a pretty good look of this in the Episode of Savanaclaw manga, which features a female Yuu. (And before anyone says, "Yuuka could be hiding the fact she's a girl!", take a look at these panels. She is clearly not making an effort to hide her chest and given her nonchalant personality + ability to physically defend herself, Yuuka has no in-universe reason to be hiding her gender. The other students probably don’t bring up that she’s a girl because she’s already been around at NRC for roughly a month at this point and have likely acclimated to her presence. Besides, people don’t normally bring up “well, that’s a girl” out of the blue in everyday conversations.)

Riddle seems to treat Yuuka the same as the gender-neutral Yuu in the game; he still adjusts her tie for her without any flourishes, flinching, etc.

If you read the Episode of Savanaclaw altogether, pretty much all of the characters treat Yuuka like another fellow student and not "oh, this is a woman and a woman has to be treated differently".

Leona stops Savanaclaw mobs from beating up Yuuka and co., but this isn't significant because he does the same for gender-neutral Yuu in the game. It's not "I stopped the guys from hurting a woman" behavior. And get this: Leona still challenges Yuuka and co. to a magift/spelldrive game and he STILL kicks their asses and expects them to get up for more. He doesn't give even Yuuka special treatment or leniency because she is a woman. He wants her to play him again, the same as the other students (who are all guys). It is Jack who has to intervene and stop his dorm leader from bullying Yuuka and co.—but again, this isn’t a change from the game, as Jack always steps in anyway.

Yuuka recognizes Leona as "the garden caretaker" from back when she accidentally stepped on his tail. Unfortunately, we don't get to see if Leona attempted to attack her from this instance. It could be that the manga excluded it because he didn't try or it could be that he did (if the magift/spelldrive demands were of any indication) and the manga just didn't have time to show it in full. Buuut we should also note that Leona makes exceptions to his own... "moral code" when it is convenient for him. For example, he tells his students to not pick on outsiders but then still wails on us through sport. When Yuu steps on his tail in the garden, he says, "Well, can't say it'd be much fun to hurt someone so helpless," but then adds, "Still gonna do it, though."

My point is, this is the closest we'll get to "how would the boys treat a fem!Yuu", and that's what I'll leave you with.

[harukyuu2]

Hello, a request please, the boys of Furin x childhood friend reader, how do the boys react when they meet their childhood friend again (the reader moved away when she was little) and their biggest crush reciprocated?

Awww hello!! Thats such a cute request! I tried my best writing some characters that i thought were gonna look cute, so there you go <3

!! Now that i ended writing it, i noticed that i got a little focused on the past..i hope you still like it tho!! i can make a part two extending the idea more <3

♡ Characters: Haruka Sakura, Nirei Akihiko, Hajime Umemiya, Tasuku Tsubakino

- Fluff, pretty angsty on the past sorry !! (Mentions of bullying for Nirei), readers acts slightly different for each of them, neutral reader but for Tsubakino there are mentions of "femenine" things, they/them pronouns for Tsubakino

♤ To be honest, Haruka isnt sure if he can consider you as someone who was his friend. Haruka had a harsh past where people bullied him by his looks, even as a kid no one wanted him around-- except you.

Haruka used to spend his days on the park, there where games, trees that he could punch like those man on the street between them and bugs. He could tell even since a young age that parents looked at him with sadness or disgust, including yours but you still didnt seem to care.

A small child approached Haruka with a little sunflower on her hand, probably stealed from the garden of the park. - "This flower matches your eye" - the small child stated and smiled shyly offering the sunflower to Haruka.

Ah, this is a memory he hates—the time he stomped on that flower, thinking it was some kind of disgusting joke, only to make the small child cry and your parents scream at Haruka. Yet, you didn’t stop trying to approach him. Every day, you took that same route after school, or maybe you’d pass by when you went shopping with your parents—it didn’t matter. Every time you walked by, Haruka was there. It was almost like the universe wanted the two of you to be close.

Slowly, Haruka started to get used to your presence, even if he still kept some of his guard up, just in case you ever treated him like a monster. But you never did. Day by day, as you kept collecting sunflowers, it eventually led to the moment where you learned how to make a sunflower crown, placing it carefully on Haruka's head with a stupidly big grin thinking it highlighted one of his eyes!

Time flew by when you were together. It got to the point where Haruka forgot he ever hated you—he even started waiting for you at the park every day, usually to play the silly games you thinked about. Even when he frowned or got annoyed, you always showed up, bringing an inexplicable warmth to his heart.

But then... you stopped coming. A week passed, then a month, then a year. Haruka eventually gave up, assuming you had left him—just like everyone else always did. And yet, no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to hate you. You were the first person to show him what affection truly felt like.

You still held a hidden place in his heart and mind, and as time passed, he couldn’t help but wonder what you’d look like when you were older.

...

The small bell in the door of Cafe Pothos ringed giving the announcement of a new client. Haruka was too focused on chewing his second omurice of the day while Kotoha welcomed the customer. He noticed the sudden weird silence, but who cares.

"Haruka...?" - someone asked, their voice barely above a whisper, that it almost seem like it was breaking in confusement. He almost choked upon hearing someone say his name like that. And then, with wide eyes and a faint blush creeping onto his face, he froze, staring at the person standing before him—a beautiful sight he had left behind in the past long ago.

And here he is, with his usual frown looking at the opposite direction while the first person to approach him in the past is sitting at his side pretty close. Asking annoying questions, with the annoying teasing look of Kotoha and the annoying lack of space between them.

"Why did you moved here? I didnt expect to find you again! Im so happy..." -Your tone went lower on the last part but there was a clear pleased smile in your face

"To be on Furin, on the top better said." -He responded quick and bluntly, dont be confused! He is just really nervous to see you again, who would know you just got prettier than you already were on his eyes? the fact youre so close doesnt help either.

"Furin? Be on top?" - You ask curious raising an eyebrow since you just got here so... Well, anyways! if Haruka says it, its probably something interesting.

"A school for deliquents, wanna be on top." - He responds and looks at you for a moment, looking in your eyes for any negative emotions towards him

"Oh..." - You hummed, surprised by the thought, but in the end if Haruka wants that goal, youre gonna support him. Giving him a sweet smile that made him quickly look away again. Seeing his reaction, you placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling how he straightened up nervously, his whole body tense.

"Well, why dont we take a walk together? Its been years since I moved away because of my parents work, and running into you in this town is kinda crazy! I really want to know how you’ve been. You know... You were such a cutie back then, and— Haruka, are you okay!?" - you asked, alarmed as you noticed him frozen in place, his face completely red and looking like he was about to steam from the heat.

Whoops! Even if Haruka stopped working, atleast a part of his heart is warm knowing you didnt leave that shitty city because of him. At the end, you two had a nice walk talking about how your lifes are going, Haruka gived you back a flower of a park as a form of remembering when you gived him those sunflowers (He panicked for ten minutes before almost breaking the flower and giving it to you all flustered and pouty) and walking you home since he was worried for your safety. After all this time, you gived him a small hug to thank him but he runned away before you could say anything else. No worries! you will give him more affection the days you encounter him.

♤ Nirei admired you so much, to the point you were the first person he writted about in his small journal of strong people. Yeah, maybe you werent strong physically! But you were...someone he admired.

This warm feeling about you came from a while ago when you two become friends even if he was a person who has been bullied since childhood, you were one of the few things he didnt hate of the school you two went.

In his middle school years, he had their only friend since childhood worried almost everyday, just as the usual beaten ended, you always appeared to heal his wounds with a frustated expression since you couldnt do anything about it. He always noticed that, and his crybayby tears didnt help at all to comfort you, he just wished to be stronger more for you than himself. He was worried that those guys decided to do something to you, after all you werent scared of showing that you were pretty close to Nirei.

His fear camed to reality pretty early. One of those days where he was being beaten up, it got more heated by the group of his bullies throwing him against the wall in the back of the school and starting to punch him restless for not having the notes they asked for in time. A big kick was about to come when the bully suddenly stopped seeing a girl in front of him

"Stop it please, its not good to go punching people. If you wanted notes..." - She was trying to defend him, he could see from the back how her arms that protected him from their view shaked and more when the bully gived her a slap. Nirei could only look her back, afraid of them hurting her more but not being able to help because of the fear, he is thankful a teacher saw them and stopped this inmediately.

But that bringed your overprotective parents to know about the situation, just as Nirei saw you as something precious, for your parents was the same thing. Taking the decision to move out because of their work and to change you into another school before the situation brings more hurtness to you.

Even then, with a smile you gived him a phrase that still sounds strongly in his heart- "Until we meet again Nirei!"

...

It was a normal day after Nirei managed to learn some defensive moves for the upcoming fights thanks to Suo. Those two were coming back from one of their sessions of practice, but couldnt help to hear a yelp from one of the abandoned valleys that is a little far from the center of Makochi. They quickly runned there finding someone Nirei knows pretty well being pushed against a wall and two boys asking you to give everything in your bag to them. Nirei, shocked to see you again runned screaming your name without thinking of the fear or anything, making not only you to be surprised but Suo too.

"Nirei!?" - you screamed, your eyes wide in shock as you saw him all grown up, completely forgetting about your situation. Did he dye his hair? you thought. It looks good on him! A smile spread across your face, but it quickly faltered, your heart skipping a beat as Nirei narrowly avoided a punch. Wait—did he just make that guy roll when he dropped to the floor? You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh on how he looked like a little bug, which only seemed to irritate the guy who had been cornering you against the wall. He tightened his grip on your wrist, but before anyone else could react, Nirei lunged at him, tackling him to the ground even if it meant recieving some punches of that guy on his back.

You let out a small gasp of surprise, but before the chaos could escalate, another guy with an eye patch stepped in, delivering a final punch that knocked the two aggressors out cold. Letting out a sigh of relief and giving a thankful smile to the eyepatched guy, you walked slowly toward Nirei, who was still on the floor catching his breath—he looked exhausted.

"Nirei..." - You called him again bringing yourself down to him with a calm smile. You heard his small sobs before he looked at you and started to mumble incoherent stuff, but you bringed yourself to understand he missed you a lot. Your smile widened slightly so you decided to caress his hair to calm him a little - "Yeah, missed you too silly. You been training, right? i can tell, you look like a...hero! You just saved me right now, that was awesome!" - You said knowing how obsessed Nirei was with being one before finally hugging him softly, you heared his small yelp but still how shakily he reciprocated the hug, feeling a warm on his heart of having you back with him.- "Lets go to eat something 'kay? i missed you!" - You said finally getting up with him and following him close, oops! you two forgot Suo was there too.

Umemiya always thought of you two on the past as that phrase people use of "Right person, wrong time".

When he got to the orphanage, he wasnt the most easy kid to take care of. He was really sad and deep into believing it was his fault what happened to his parents, wanting to push everyone away and believing he didnt deserve to still be here. But still, you always showed up, trying to spend time with him. You didn’t like seeing him alone, so even when he tried to push you away, you kept following him, curious about what he was up to. You were always there, making sure he ate his food and explaining what the flavors were supposed to taste like, trying to get him to play games and see if he felt anything. You tried everything for him.

One of his favourites memories is when you smiled really big after he finally started to get his happiness again and felt the taste of food after a lot of time. He started to love spending time with you, he even learned to braid hair with you! but still something felt different than with the other kids, he couldnt bring himself to think of you as a sister...he thinked of you as something more special.

So you can imagine his surprise when a family about to move out of town decided to adopt you. He was happy for you—of course, he was—but he couldn’t ignore the ache in his heart at the thought of you being far away.

During those last days by your side, he always smiled, trying to show you that he was handling it well, even if you could clearly see the sadness in his eyes. That’s why, on your last day there, the other kids at the orphanage gave you goodbye drawings, but you decided to secretly slip one into Umemiya’s hands and hug him tightly.

"Lets have a meal together when i come back 'kay?" - You smiled at him and Umemiya returned the hug, nodding at your words and hoping that the future reunites them again.

...

It was a normal day of helping around on the town for Umemiya until the sweet old lady of a bakery grabbed his arm to stop him from walking away.

"Aw sweetie, wouldnt you mind tasting the new parfait i want to put on the menu of the bakery? you can sit down and tell me your opinion while someone comes to help you with all those bags people gived you!" - The old lady seemed pretty eager to convice him and in the end, she managed to do it.

"Ask for the parfait there on the counter while i fix the shop! it has to look cute, Ume" - The old lady adds when they enter the bakery with a small laugh, but Umemiya didnt expect to see you on the counter. Just as shocked as he was, you opened your mouth to talk-- it trembled a little in hesitation before it leaved on a shaky whisper - "Ume...?"

And here you two are, after Umemiya jumped over the counter to hug you and taking you out of the bakery, now wandering through the city as he animatedly tells you stories about what he’s been up to with Furin and the town. You listened, amused by all his achievements, nodding along as he spoke. He looked so cute, talking so excitedly about everything he had accomplished, that you didnt even realize he had led you to the rooftop of the school he loved so much.

He eagerly presented you to his plants like if they were his babies, excitedly explaining to you that he is waiting for the tomatos to mature for the next barbecue. He standed up slowly going closer to you

"I hope you come to the barbecue, it would be nice seeing you there. Oh! you can also come around this week to know my friends! Ah, i want you to meet the boys of first year too, they are..." - He hears your small laugh from hearing his ramble since quite the few minutes, making him stop for a moment and admire your face with a small smile starting to form. He leaves a small laugh and rubs his neck - "im talking pretty much, arent i?"

"Yeah, but dont worry i dont mind. Its been a while since i have a talk with you" - You shake your head fixing a strand of hair out of your face, the sunset falling behind you two. - "Im happy you seem... more alive than the last time we saw each other"

There was a moment of comforting silence while you saw each other, taking in the fact that you two finally are together again. Umemiya gently passed one of his arms around your neck, pushing you against his chest and whispering softly - "Missed you..".- you inmediately passed your arms around him too, the moment lasting forever for you two.

Tsubakino always admired you, even in your childhood years, Tsubakino always admired how your hair was long and well taken care of.

But for the most part, they loved sneaking away from those boring car talks with the boys by running to find you in the courtyard. They’d excuse themself by saying they were curious about your makeup dreams for when you got older, claiming they were just bored. (They couldnt bring themself to admit that they really wanted to try that pink lipstick with glitter of yours.)

The time they spent with you always felt just right. You never seemed to mind them talking your ear off about things typically considered "feminine," and that meant the world to them. It helped them so much that, even today, Tsubakino is grateful to you for introducing them to those things.

Still, Tsubakino saw you go before they could tell you openly all the things they loved about your makeup, your hair, how you styled the uniform even if the teachers scolded you, Tsubakino loved all your style. But they couldnt bring themself to say that before you had to leave the town with your family, you gived something precious to Tsubakino that they promised to take well care of. Your red lipstick that they were always peeking how you used it

"Take care of this while im gone! i know you like it in secret" - You said between giggles with a wink putting the lipstick on Tsubakino's palm and gently closing it. - "If you ever want, you can use it just...dont lose it 'kay?" - You ask with a gentle smile before running away since your parents were calling you, Tsubakino just nodded in awe pressing the lipstick against their chest, hoping for the future to reunite you two again

...

Tsubakino was doing some shoppings with Kotoha, mostly based of seeing clothes but they were also trying to get a new limited color palette that was on sale in a huge store! and yet even if they runned there early, the line was packed up of people. Tsubakino saw Kotoha sigh but tried to cheer her up that they would probably get it if they are lucky, and also it wont be that bad of a wait if they are together.

Almost all conversations on the line were interrupted by a boy who pushed a person back and didnt even apologized for taking their place without a warning.

"Hey! You cant just cut in line! I was here first!" - The voice made Tsubakino flinch slightly, almost like they knew who it was. When they turned around, Tsubakino immediately recognized you—you still took such good care of your appearance. Your makeup, your hair, even your outfit was so cute! Ah—They had almost forgotten you were in the middle of an argument with that boy.

Tsubakino quickly turned to Kotoha, putting on a focused expression while fixing their own hair and lightly tapping their cheeks to make sure they looked good. Once satisfied, Tsubakino hurried over to where the argument was happening, determined to step in and resolve it—obviously as a proud member of Furin!

"Well, i dont think its necessary to make such a trouble for everyone! could you please not cut in the line?" - Tsubakino ask to the guy with a gentle smile while their hand rested on their own hip. Tsubakino could feel your gaze studying them, like if you were trying to confirm who they actually were. It made Tsubakino's heart ache and hope they are impressing you by their new appeareance and how cool they are acting

The other guy turned slowly with a frown - "Ha? who the hell you think you are to..." - The guy stopped talking seeing the uniform of Furin and then recognizing Tsubakino, he gulped and nodded just going away with his head low

Tsubakino turned to you with a gentle smile, walking closer and giggling at how your eyes seemed to light up the moment you finally recognized them.- "Tsubakino!?" you exclaimed, your smile widening as they nodded.

You couldn’t help but gasp, tilting your head as you spoke, your hands flying in the air to emphasize your excitement. "I— you look so good!! I love the color of your dyed hair! How do you manage to take such good care of it? It almost looks natural!"

The two of you immediately launched into a flurry of compliments, excitedly gushing over each other’s looks and how they reflected the styles you both used to dream about. Kotoha, watching from the sidelines, couldnt help but feel a little amused by the situation. She sighed softly and decided to let you two talk.

After a moment of sharing compliments, Tsubakino smiles sweetly at you starting to look for something on their purse, you couldnt see what Tsubakino hidded in his palm until he grabbed your hand and landed you the lipstick you gived them a couple of years ago. - "I think its time to give you back this, isnt it? Such a pretty color you lend me...i used it but still kept the container as a lucky charm!" - You couldnt help the small blush forming on your cheeks, such a silly thing and yet Tsubakino decided to follow your words? Thats so cute...

Tsubakino noticed your nervousness and gived you a knowing smile, in the end he called Kotoha so you three made the line for the product. The rest of the day you spended it shopping with those two while sometimes Tsubakino took advantage of the fact the mall was crowded so they could grab your hand and squeeze it just so you dont get lost of course!

With that said, when Kotoha leaved, Tsubakino walked you home and gived you a little lipstick charm as a gift for coming back as you said on your promise with them. With a smile Tsubakino hugged you slowly, knowing you could feel their perfume. Such a lucky guess they used the expensive one today! - "Hope we can do more and more shoppings together..." - You smiled warmly at Tsubakino's words and said back - "Sure, and you will let me do your makeup to test it, right?"

[luv-beam]

SURPRISEEE!!! i finished some things early and realized i had a lot of time tonight, so here i am!!! really, just a treat for me heh:

• dropping us immediately into everything-has-gone-to-shit oh ur praying on our downfall TT like the distance is palpable... and hao 😭 oh sweet, protective big brother hao 😭

• THE TULIPS??!?@!( STRETCHING TOWARD THE SKY??? my chest hurts .. the way yn looks at the garden now. like ik how it feels when something/someplace u once considered ur safe haven or safety net becomes corrupt,, twists the heart

• YOU WOULD NOT COME HERE AGAIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭 UGLY CRYING its the way "at least not alone" comes right after and i wonder if seokmin feels the same bc he also walked by, but only w minghao (granted, this isnt his house but...) and bc u write that they were BOTH affected (im not delulu am i...)

• vapid fop... what if i chuckled hahah

• also HELLO YOON JEONGHAN (u couldn't resist, could u, tara ;))) "a balm to the bruised parts" oh. im honestly living for jeonghans character and that in some other life, he and yn might actually make the perfect match (also mama xu doing mama matchmaker things w said thinly veiled glee is everything)

• its interesting that seok and hannie have kind of switched tropes? idk if that makes sense, but jeonghan as the warm, comforting presence and seokmin as the teasing, haunting ex-relation. its interesting seeing them both in these contexts and i like the subtle way u point to seokmin still having feelings for her or, yk, CARING ABT HER

• oh so nooow u try to play nice ..... jkjk im sorry i have assumed yns soul at this moment LMFAOOO (we're at the return of hao)

• i have sm pettiness in my bones that i emoathize w yn too well in this section LOL like yn was holding back, she could have snubbed him even more thoroughly imo !!! the dettached politeness and careful dismissal of his attempts at conversing w her makes me cackle lol (sorry dk) loved the dialogue/interactions!!!

• "weaving an intoxicating tapestry of distraction" oooooo welcome back tapestry metaphor 😌 i love imagining all of this like one massive tapestry being weaved in of those big ass looms that u think of from ancient greece

• speaking of intoxicating, the way u described jeonghan previously reminded me of champagne teehee

• the fact that every time seokyn make eye contact w one another the world seems to pause makes me ILL. like u cannot make me think of that slow motion, light fading-esque scene every time like my heart cannot take it

• i feel sick 😭😭😭😭 like damn that hurts... like u hate to see them doing so much better than u and u capture that bittersweet heartache/break so well :')))

• like sure seok's reputation might have been scuffed a little when she ran away, but all of that negative social consequence is given to yn, not seokmin. and the domino effect of all her "mistakes" and all this isolation is so... accurate? truly, her isolation and helplessness/defeat can be felt thru the screen

• i can kind of imagine the scene where yns escaped back home and is just sitting in the dark,, like the muffled sounds of partygoers and then the door closes and it's so quiet... man im so sad for her

• "ah i see my sister's charming everyone tonight" PLS I LOVE U HAO 😭😭😭 he's such a sweet older brother bye skfndjfj the way he's so protective im so

• i am kind of curious if yn has realized/forgiven seokmin in some way? like ik she's bitter and also heartbroken cuz she felt stupid for believing he could love her back, but at this point, she seems to have forgiven hao in some capacity for trying to help her "save her prospects" last chapter. so would it be safe to say that she's forgiven seok for going along w it too? or ig,, its a little more complicated than that huh

• damn someone who can make even jeonghan nervous/uncertain? crazy lol

• all this time passing MAKES. ME. SO. SAD. FOR. HER. 😭😭😭

• i agree w yn, the tulips bring an unwelcoke reminder of seokmin 😌 sorry seokmin

• the gaping hole and taut tension during the brief scene of spring age 22 is so JSNFKDJFJ RAAAAAAAAH ik im on yns side but like i need to strap this girl to an armchair so they can talk shit out 😭 i love longing so much but i also wanna tear my hair out

• i looove that u describe each and every ball/society event in its own way, like they have their own unique personalities!! :'))) like this one as a kaleidoscope... so beautiful, its a pleasure to my mind. on a similar note, the way u described sohee's dress and appearance was MWAH!! like i can picture exactly what she looks like, she's such a vibrant and living character in my mind. though the irony is not lost on me how her appearance/dress is described in such similar detail as when yn was a debutante 💔 like she's now been cast aside and it no longer matters how well she dresses; no one expects her to steal the spotlight

• oh but this one hurts 😭 ^ like it was established in chapter one that she must exhibit restraint and hope often slips through ones fingers like water, and it's heartbreaking and utterly depressing that she kind of lives thru these younger girls' experiences bc she never got her happily ever after. ur not only sidelined, but ur forced to watch someone live the life u were supposed to have (its so cruel 😭)

• "i suspect that there's still magic left in ur own waltz" OH I HAAAATE UUUUUUU YOON JEONGHAN WHY DID U HAVE TO END UP SO GOOD 😭 why r u making me like him tara 😭😭😭😭 not the second male lead 😭 now i want him and yn to end up together

• a reminder of what ive lost... the ache... ugh its so good...

• ONCE AGAIN. the imagery is perfection. like ur painting of the gardens at night in my mind is SUBLIME

• SHE WAS MINE FIRST OH JEONGHAN (´Д⊂ヽ OHHHHH I SO WANT U RN ive always sensed this kindred heartache btwn us, bestie. also just both of them coveting a hand that isnt theirs... goddamn, it's always the pining and forbidden that gets me

• but also totally digging the offer for a loveless marriage. like they can totally just make the best of it :')) its clear that they get along, and who knows.. it could turn into some semblance of love :')) i like to think that he's a little desperate himself while trying to convince yn to take up his offer. although a man won't get as much blow back for being unmarried, he's still a viscount. mutual desperation, mutual heartache... just drawing connections heh

• A GARDEN PARTY IN THE QUEEN'S GARDEN AND YET ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL PANEL TO ADD TO OUR GROWING TAPESTRY WEEEE

• "punctuated by the delicate notes" oo i just had to say that i love that word choice, it scratches an itch in my brain

• oh. thats quite the uh scandalous position their seokie... also just the way that time seemed to slow down again, but this time, yns trying so desperately to put on a strong face that seems so ready to slip off at a moment's notice. like i can feel her trying to pull herself up by her bootstraps and not fall apart

• never mind my question was just answered 😭😭😭 yn baby pls i know ur terribly depressed but U NEED TO HEAR HIM OUT . PLEASE.

• I LOOOOVE THE ENDING, LIKE I LOVE THAT WE'VE ENDED UP HERE OF ALL PLACES LIKE OOOOOOO PETTINESS HAHAHAHAH

if u couldn't discern it, i loved this chapter so much!!!! :'))) like the superstar was definitely the tension and the push and pull of emotions as yn experiences her young life flash before eyes skcnkdnf i love that you've ghrown a wrench into the plot of seokyn via one very handsome and persuasive and lovelorn yoon jeonghan 🫂🫂 i cant WAIT to read seok's reaction, and EVERYONE'S reactions for that matter LMFAO i am so enjoying this series so far tara, tysm for ur hard work !!! 💖

The Somerset Affair Chapter 3: Promises Bathed in Moonlight

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.8k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, crying, mentions of a panic attack (not being able to breathe), eventual smut, more to be added a/n: sorry sorry i know ch 3 took forever too lol // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys

summary: maybe you really are well and truly alone.

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here! series masterlist

The First Year: Summer Age 19

The first season after that fateful night was like a hazy dream. When you returned to the social scene, the whispers followed: why had Lord Lee disappeared from your side, so abruptly and publicly, leaving you to stand alone in the wake of his departure?

You endured it with a forced smile, accepting dances from any man who offered. Seokmin, when you saw him, was always nearby yet achingly out of reach, just beyond the edge of the crowd, his gaze never straying to you. Minghao, perhaps sensing the fraught silence between you, would draw you into conversation whenever he could, his manner protective, his eyes wary.

The estate gardens were nothing short of stunning in the late spring. Bursts of red and yellow tulips stretched toward the sky, their vibrant hues softened only by the ivy draping from the nearby trellis. The whole scene was picturesque, brimming with life and warmth. Yet, to you, it held only shadows, echoes of laughter from a time that now felt far away.

You’d meant to pass by quickly, perhaps even avoid the gardens altogether, but the pull was magnetic, the memories nestled there too insistent to ignore. This had been your sanctuary, your haven of whispered secrets and boundless dreams. You had spent countless summer afternoons here with Seokmin, lying on the grass, watching clouds drift lazily by as he teased you with nonsense riddles and ridiculous tales. He’d always made you laugh—those moments had seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with the certainty that nothing would ever change.

But change it had.

Now, as you stood among the tulips, their bright faces tilted toward the sun, you felt as if you were the only one left in shadow. Each flower seemed to mock you, as if asking why you had come back when he was no longer here to share it with you. You could almost hear his laughter in the rustling leaves, a phantom sound that made your heart ache.

You allowed yourself one indulgent moment of memory, one small surrender to the warmth of the past. In that instant, you could almost feel his presence beside you, could almost hear him sigh as he lay back against the grass and urged you to do the same. Tulip, he’d called you once, likening you to the flowers here—delicate, bright, full of life. His voice drifted through your mind like a warm breeze, and you closed your eyes, feeling the bittersweet pang of loss settle deeper into your chest.

Then, a sudden sound cut through the quiet, and you froze. It was the low murmur of a familiar voice—Seokmin’s voice—wafting toward you from the entrance of the garden. You barely made out the words, some easy greeting exchanged with Minghao as the two approached. The cadence of his voice was softer now, more mature perhaps, but unmistakably his. In an instant, the fragile calm you’d managed to summon evaporated, replaced by a panicked urgency to flee.

You turned on your heel, lifting your skirts as you hurried toward a narrow, shaded path, heart pounding as if you were a trespasser in your own sanctuary. You slipped behind the thick ivy-covered trellis, your fingers clutching the delicate lace of your gloves as you pressed your back against the rough wood. There, hidden from sight, you held your breath, willing your heart to quiet, afraid he might hear it even from a distance.

He paused at the garden’s entrance, his voice carrying lightly on the breeze, mingling with the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. It was a voice you had known too well, one that had once woven a thousand dreams in these very gardens. But now, standing there alone and concealed, all you could feel was the sharp edge of those dreams turned to dust.

You dared not look, dared not even breathe until his voice faded and the crunch of gravel beneath his feet grew distant. Only then did you step out from your hiding place, the scene around you as unchanged and pristine as ever. But it felt different, achingly empty. He was gone, and so, you realized, was something inside you.

Your shoulders slumped as you turned away from the gardens, swallowing against the emotion lodged in your throat. You would not come here again—at least, not alone.

That first year passed slowly, the memory of him shadowing you at every event, every garden, every dance, leaving you both haunted and empty.

The Second Year: Autumn Age 20

As autumn arrived, the weight of that lost season faded slightly, turning to something colder, something sharper. You found yourself no longer seeking him out at every ball. Instead, you steeled yourself, donning an unapproachable mask that suited you better with each passing day. Your brother had chosen to spend the season traveling, claiming that the sea salt of Grecian air was calling him. The absence of his protection meant that you had to sail the rough shores of that season alone – Minghao’s letters were frequent and welcomed, always ready to provide words of assurance from thousands of miles away.��

Your second season was to be markedly different—by your design and no one else’s. The naive enthusiasm of your first season had faded, replaced by a wariness that had hardened around you like a shell. Suitors still called upon you, though they were fewer and far between, and the gentlemen of impeccable standing, those your mother deemed suitable, grew distant with each passing event. They would approach with polite intentions, murmuring some pleasantry or another, only to bow and make haste to another part of the room where more receptive young ladies waited. 

Yet, for all the polite avoidance and empty conversation, there was Lord Yoon Jeonghan, the Viscount of Hastings. He was different—not at all the cold and detached nobleman that society often produced, nor the vapid fop more concerned with his cufflinks than his conversation. He was witty, charming even, and his remarks would often spark a laugh that you could scarcely suppress. A flicker of intrigue would alight in his eyes every time you spoke, as if you were unraveling a particularly delightful mystery, and for those brief moments, he made you almost forget.

Almost.

You felt his gaze often, lingering in the spaces between words, and sometimes, if you were honest with yourself, it was almost enough to ease the ache that had taken root in your chest. There was a certain warmth to his presence, a lightheartedness that let you slip free from the burdensome weight of the past. Your mother, ever vigilant, noticed his interest immediately. She seized upon his attentions with thinly veiled glee, her gaze often flickering between the two of you at gatherings, assessing, calculating. She would arrange you beside him at dinners, leave you in his company at the slightest opportunity, her encouragement subtle yet unmistakable.

Jeonghan would lean in close, his words laced with humor, often turning some mundane observation into something absurdly funny. And for a fleeting second, the laughter would come easily, a balm to the bruised and hidden parts of yourself. You allowed yourself to think, Maybe this could work.

But the quiet, hollow ache lingered, a constant reminder of the ghost you could not quite shake. And that ghost was Seokmin.

Seokmin, who watched from across the room, his gaze burning, perceptive as ever. He was polite, distant even, but his presence was always there, like the flicker of candlelight that neither dimmed nor died. You could feel it most keenly when you danced with other men, swirling across the floor to the strains of violins and cellos. Once, as you stepped onto the ballroom floor with Jeonghan, you felt Seokmin’s gaze settle on you from across the room. The intensity of it was enough to make your skin prickle, and suddenly you were painfully aware of every step, every turn.

The first misstep was subtle—a slight stumble over the Viscount’s foot. But as you met Seokmin’s eyes, his brow lifted ever so slightly, a smirk hovering just on the edge of his mouth. That subtle, amused expression set your pulse racing in a way you would never confess. And in your distracted state, you stumbled again, this time nearly losing your balance. Jeonghan chuckled, mistaking your lapse for some charming display of nervousness, too oblivious to realize the true reason for your faltering steps.

Seokmin’s gaze, however, saw straight through you. His smirk was knowing, almost taunting, as though he could see past every mask, every effort you’d put into your newfound resolve. It was maddening—the way he could still get under your skin, the way he seemed to enjoy watching you unravel, even if only for a second. The lingering effects of that look stayed with you long after the music ended, clinging to you like perfume.

And so, you spent the season caught between two worlds. Lord Yoon, with his charm and his lightheartedness, who could ease the bitterness that lay thick upon your heart if only for a while. And Seokmin, a relentless presence, haunting you from across every ballroom and garden, his gaze a tether you could never quite sever. It was a delicate dance, one you performed night after night, hoping, in vain, that one day you would not feel his eyes on you at all.

The afternoon sun angled low over the estate, bathing the drawing room in a cool October light that poured through the high windows, softening the sharp edges of the day. Minghao had just returned from his travels and had brought back a novel he thought you would enjoy—Jane Eyre, by a Miss Brontë. The air was thick with the quiet thrill of this gift, the promise of evenings spent lost in its pages, and you had just begun to express your excitement when Minghao, with his usual calm, announced that Seokmin had accompanied him.

You schooled your face to remain pleasant, though your pulse quickened at the mention of his name. And indeed, there he stood by the door, his posture polite yet tense, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes dark with some unreadable emotion. He offered a slight bow, his gaze fixed on you even as you looked firmly at your brother.

"Did you know," Minghao began, oblivious to the tension in the room as he handed you the book, "that the author published it under a man’s name? Some say it’s because she thought her work would be dismissed otherwise."

You managed a small smile, allowing yourself the momentary reprieve of this topic. “Thank you, Minghao,” you replied, fingers grazing the embossed cover. “I’ll cherish it. It sounds wonderful.”

Across the room, Seokmin shifted, clearing his throat. "Do you find time to read often these days?" His voice was tentative, a hint of hope or maybe familiarity clinging to the question, as if reaching for a bridge long burned.

Your reply was smooth and immediate, though you kept your gaze firmly on Minghao, as if Seokmin had merely been a ghost in the room. "I make time, yes. It’s quite necessary, given the, ah… limited options for conversation."

A faint hint of color rose to Seokmin’s cheeks, but he quickly smothered whatever response he had been about to make. Minghao glanced between you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pieced together the simmering tension, the edges of a puzzle he hadn’t been around to see formed.

There was a brief pause, heavy as stones, before Seokmin tried again. "Do you still ride out to the southern fields? I remember…" He hesitated, his words trailing off before he finished. “The views from the hilltops there were always lovely in the fall.”

It was a simple question, a nod to a pastime you had once enjoyed, but the memories it evoked—the two of you racing across the meadows, laughing breathlessly under the open sky, sharing quiet moments on that hilltop he spoke of—all felt too sharp, too close. You tightened your grip on the book, the rough binding grounding you in the present.

"Occasionally," you murmured, as if speaking to no one in particular. Your tone was clipped, devoid of warmth, and you let the silence stretch, long enough for the weight of his words to fade. After a beat, you forced yourself to stand, smoothing the fabric of your dress as you prepared to excuse yourself. “Please, if you’ll excuse me.”

Seokmin’s face barely shifted, yet the flicker of disappointment that crossed his features was unmistakable. "Wait, please—" he began, his hand reaching out as if to stop you. “I… wanted to know if you might—”

You looked over at Minghao, not giving Seokmin the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. “Thank you for the book, brother,” you said softly. “I’ll look forward to discussing it with you when I’ve read it.” And with that, you turned, leaving the drawing room before Seokmin could finish his thought.

You could feel his eyes on your back, a silent, unyielding weight as you retreated, but you pushed down the churning emotions in your chest.

Later, your mother found you in the library, a faintly exasperated look in her eye. "What has possessed you to act so sharply towards Lord Lee? He is a friend of your brother’s, and a gentleman. I hardly think it was necessary to snub him quite so… thoroughly."

"I simply wasn’t inclined to entertain him," you replied, not lifting your gaze from the book you had barely managed to focus on since leaving the drawing room. “It was not my intention to be rude, Mother.”

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “He asked after you very kindly. And if you cannot manage the simple courtesy of conversation, well…” Her sigh was laden with disappointment, tinged with the faintest trace of resignation. “It does make things rather difficult for you, don’t you think?”

You didn’t respond, clamping your lips shut and focusing on the words of Jane Eyre as if they might hold an escape. What could you say? That politeness was a currency you could not afford to spend on him? That every pleasantry only made the knife in your back twist a little deeper?

There was nothing to be done, and so you said nothing at all. The book lay heavy in your lap, unread, as your mother’s gaze lingered a moment longer, her silence more cutting than words.

The Third Year: Winter Age 21

The winter air nipped at every inch of bare skin as you stepped out of the carriage and into the towering, grand hall where that night’s ball was being held. Snow blanketed the world outside, a thick layer that muffled everything it touched, leaving only the crunch of footsteps and the soft murmur of the wind. The frost bit through your gloves, but it was nothing compared to the cold lodged deep within your chest. You drew yourself up and stepped into the hall, a practiced smile on your face as you greeted the hosts and exchanged pleasantries.

Inside, the ball was already in full swing. Laughter and music filled the air, weaving an intoxicating tapestry of distraction. You navigated through clusters of guests with practiced ease, inclining your head and making idle conversation that barely skimmed the surface. You had come to know the routines well, slipping into this role as though it were armor: a mask of charm, a shield of grace. It kept you safe, even as it kept others at arm’s length.

But then, just as you were making your way toward a friend by the window, you spotted him—Seokmin, across the room. He was surrounded by a small group of gentlemen, his laughter carrying over the din as he shared some amusing story. His cheeks were flushed from the warmth, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you’d once adored. For a moment, a whisper of memory drifted to you unbidden—those nights by the garden, his laughter mingling with the soft hum of summer crickets, a harmony you’d taken for granted. The sight of him now, seemingly unaffected by the hollow ache that had lodged itself so firmly within you, twisted something in your chest.

As though he could feel your gaze, his eyes turned toward you, catching you unprepared. His laughter faded, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, regret, perhaps. Or something more resigned, an acceptance of the chasm that had grown between you. He made no move toward you; there was only a slight nod, a silent acknowledgement of… something. You couldn’t name it, and you didn’t want to try.

It was his easy return to conversation that undid you. The way he turned back to his companions, laughing once more, as if nothing had changed, as if the years you’d spent trying to bury the echoes of that ball could be erased so simply. The laughter that once filled you with warmth now rang hollow in your ears, a reminder of all that was lost and all that could never be reclaimed.

The walls of the ballroom began to feel oppressive, the cloying warmth of bodies and perfume suffocating. You pressed a gloved hand to your temple, feigning discomfort as you turned to your nearest acquaintance. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well,” you murmured, a faint tremor in your voice that you hoped was undetectable.

“Oh, my dear, are you all right? You do look rather pale,” she said with concern, her eyes scanning your face. “Perhaps some fresh air?”

“Yes,” you managed, barely holding together the thin fabric of your composure. “Yes, that may be best.”

With a polite smile and promises to catch up at the next event, you drifted toward the doorway, slipping through the crowd as unobtrusively as you could. The cold air in the entry hall was a shock, but you welcomed it, letting it bite into your cheeks and ground you.

Soon enough, you found yourself in your room, finally alone. The silent darkness enveloped you, and for the first time that night, you let yourself drop the mask. You sank into the nearest armchair, clutching the armrests as if they could anchor you. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily past the window, catching the moonlight like shards of glass. There was no warmth, no comfort in the scene, only the lingering shadows of a memory that refused to fade.

You had no energy to reach for a book, nor did you bother lighting the fireplace. Instead, you sat, letting the silence swell around you, filling the empty spaces that had been left in Seokmin’s wake. Your gaze lingered on the frost etching delicate patterns across the glass, and for a moment, you wondered if he was still at the ball, still laughing, still untouched by the winter that had settled so deep within you.

It felt almost foolish to mourn something you had lost so long ago, but as the hours slipped by, you couldn’t bring yourself to shake the feeling.

The bitterness reached new heights that year. Your relationship with Minghao, however, began to shift. He sensed your resolve, noticed the way you shrank from any mention of Seokmin, and quietly took up the role of your champion. He became your shield at social gatherings, a polite, steadfast presence whenever your mother hinted at your dwindling prospects or a suitor left you standing alone. Your mother’s eyes, ever watchful, lingered upon you with a barely hidden concern, her gaze darting to the eligible gentlemen nearby and then to you with that familiar, expectant look.

“You know,” she began in a low voice, “if you were only a touch more… approachable, it might encourage the young men here to consider you more seriously.”

You forced a small smile, the words heavy and stale from years of repetition. “I’ll do my best, Mama.”

But before she could respond, a familiar voice joined the conversation.

“Ah, I see my sister is charming everyone tonight,” Minghao remarked smoothly as he appeared beside you, offering a short bow to your mother. “May I borrow her for a moment?”

Your mother’s gaze softened—she had never worried over Minghao as she did with you, and his title afforded him some measure of leniency that you could never claim. She nodded, though her expression remained faintly expectant as she watched you both step away.

Minghao led you toward the edge of the ballroom, his arm steady around yours as you wove through the crowd. Once there, he turned to you with a look that spoke of both amusement and concern.

“You looked ready to flee,” he observed, a trace of a smile in his eyes. “Would you like a few minutes’ reprieve?”

You sighed, grateful for his intervention. “I was beginning to feel like a prized cow at market,” you replied, tone dry. “Thank you for sparing me.”

He chuckled softly, but his expression grew more serious as he studied you. “I noticed Mother watching you rather closely. And I know her remarks can be… persistent.”

“Persistent is a kind way of putting it,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper. “She insists that my chances dwindle each season, that—” You cut yourself off, pressing your lips together to hold back the frustration that threatened to spill over.

Minghao’s gaze softened, and he sighed, reaching out to adjust the lace of your cuff in a gentle, brotherly gesture. “You’ve nothing to prove to her or to anyone else here,” he said quietly. “If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll be here to see you through the night.”

Despite the stifling heat of the ballroom, his presence felt like a breath of fresh air—a lifeline against the unrelenting pressure of society and its expectations.

“And if any gentleman dares to turn his back on you tonight,” he added, his voice adopting a playful lilt, “I shall personally see to it that he regrets it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted into a small, appreciative smile. Minghao’s protectiveness was a comfort you rarely admitted to needing, but tonight, you couldn’t help feeling grateful that he saw past your composed exterior to the worry lingering beneath.

The music shifted to a slower waltz, and he extended his hand with a knowing smile. “Shall we dance, sister? A waltz is far more agreeable than enduring Mother’s lectures, I assure you.”

You accepted his hand, letting him lead you to the center of the room. As you twirled together, the swirling silks and laughter around you faded into the background, leaving only the familiar warmth of his presence.

After a moment, he leaned in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “And for what it’s worth,” he murmured, “you have no need of any of these foppish gentlemen. They should consider themselves lucky if they could win even a passing glance from you.”

The sincerity in his words soothed you, and for a brief moment, the ballroom was no longer a daunting place, nor its occupants a source of anxiety. Minghao’s quiet strength steadied you, his steadfast support as dependable as the rhythm of the waltz beneath your feet.

Yet, even with Minghao’s silent support, Seokmin’s laughter ringing through the ballroom haunted you, echoing a reminder of what you once had and what you had lost.

Across the room, your gaze flickered to a familiar figure, the Lord Viscount Yoon, the lightness of his presence breaking through your somber thoughts. He had been different—his clever banter had a way of making even the most mundane topics feel lively and engaging. When he spoke, it was as if he was inviting you into an exclusive circle of shared secrets and laughter, making you momentarily forget the weight of expectations pressing down on you. 

Even now, he stood amidst a group of gentlemen, engaging in light banter that sent ripples of laughter through the crowd. A flicker of intrigue would alight in his eyes every time he caught your gaze, but he looked away just as quickly, as if your newfound prickly attitude was enough to scare him away. 

Over time, your disinterest had made him less willing to approach you. Though he had shown interest the previous year, the glow in his eyes now held a tinge of uncertainty, as if he had begun to doubt whether your heart remained open to him. Your mother, ever vigilant, noticed his hesitance, her gaze flickering between the two of you at gatherings, assessing, calculating.

“Perhaps if I were a bit more approachable,” you murmured to Minghao, who nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward Jeonghan.

“Sometimes, it takes more than just approachability,” he replied quietly. “He is a good man, but the more you withdraw, the more he may think he should step back.”

You let the thought linger in your mind, but it was soon drowned out by the sight of Seokmin across the room, leaning in to laugh politely with another woman, a vision of laughter and ease that made your heart twist painfully. The vibrant atmosphere of the ball blurred around you, filled with the laughter of others while your own heart sank, caught between the past and the possibility of a future—one you feared might never be yours again.

The Fourth Year: Spring Age 22

Spring came late that year, but the blossoms in the garden were the most vibrant you had ever seen. Tulips, bright and full of life, lined the path outside your drawing room window. Their sight brought an unwelcome reminder of Seokmin, as if they were mocking the pain that had dulled over the years but never truly healed.

One fateful morning, Seokmin arrived at the estate again, waiting for Minghao in the drawing room. You entered the room unaware of his presence, intending to retrieve a letter you had left on the table. The shock of finding him there, standing alone, was enough to root you to the spot.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. “How have you been?” he asked, breaking the silence, his tone formal but softened by something more vulnerable.

“I try to stay busy,” you replied, refusing to meet his gaze, your own fixed on the tulips outside the window, as if they alone could fortify your resolve. The way they leaned toward the glass, reaching out, seemed a cruel reminder of what you could never reach. You clung to your indifference, fearing that one look at him would undo you.

“Ah,” he replied, his voice barely a murmur. “I see.”

The silence was unbearable, stretching long and wide between you, filled with all the words you had left unsaid. For the first time, you could sense his unease, as though he, too, felt the weight of everything that had come between you. You imagined he might say more, but instead, he fell silent, unwilling or unable to breach the chasm.

When Minghao finally entered the room, his gaze shifted from Seokmin to you, sensing the tension immediately. He offered a warm, lighthearted greeting that brought some relief, yet you felt exposed, as though Seokmin could still see every last flicker of pain beneath your carefully controlled exterior. Minghao’s easy conversation filled the room, and you seized on it as a lifeline, grateful that the moment had passed.

But as you left the drawing room, something inside you felt irrevocably changed. The wound you thought had healed now ached anew, as raw and fresh as ever.

Age 22

The season has turned again, and as you step into the grand ballroom, you are met with a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that fill the air with an electric energy. The chandelier overhead sparkles like a constellation of stars, its crystal droplets refracting the warm glow of candlelight that dances across the room. The polished wooden floors gleam underfoot, reflecting the vivid hues of the gowns that swirl around you like petals caught in a gentle breeze.

After five seasons on the market, the whispers of society have cast you in the role of a spinster. No longer the young debutante brimming with promise, you now find yourself almost a chaperone to the eager, wide-eyed debutantes navigating their first seasons. Your newest charge, Sohee, is a whirlwind of youthful exuberance, her bright pink dress adorned with intricate floral appliqués that seem to bloom against her pale skin. The bodice sparkles with tiny beads, catching the light as she twirls, her laughter ringing like bells. You can see the nervous energy in her movements, the way her hands flutter as she points out various gentlemen across the ballroom.

“Oh, look at Lord Lee—what a fine dancer!” she exclaims, her voice bubbling with excitement as she gazes at Seokmin. His deep navy jacket contrasts sharply with the pristine white of his shirt, and the cravat around his neck is tied with an effortless elegance that only enhances his charm. The way he carries himself, relaxed and confident, seems to draw the attention of everyone around him.

You try to mask the bitterness rising within you as you observe him. Seokmin entertains Sohee’s infatuated chatter with polite smiles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. For a fleeting moment, you are grateful that she has captured his attention, but then the weight of your own feelings crashes over you like a cold wave. The ache in your chest deepens as memories flood your mind—long summers spent chasing fireflies, laughter echoing through the fields as he playfully pursued you with a worm on a stick, or the way he would reward your sharp tongue with that unguarded, carefree laughter.

As if drawn by some invisible thread, Seokmin’s gaze suddenly shifts, catching yours from across the room. Your heart leaps into your throat, a jolt of surprise and embarrassment coursing through you. Mortified that he has noticed your lingering stare, you quickly avert your eyes, but the warmth of your cheeks betrays you. You want to disappear into the vibrant crowd, to escape the intensity of your emotions that seem to swell with every passing second. Yet, even as you force yourself to engage with Sohee’s exuberant chatter, you can feel the weight of Seokmin’s gaze resting on you, a silent reminder of everything you’ve lost and the connection you once shared.

It is a cruel twist of fate, standing on the sidelines while young girls like Sohee chase the dreams you once held so dear. You find yourself in this role, a guide for the naive and hopeful, all the while wishing that you could feel that same thrill of possibility. The grand ballroom, alive with laughter and music, feels both enchanting and suffocating, each dance a reminder of the joys that have slipped through your fingers.

As the music swells and couples begin to sway across the polished floor, you catch glimpses of Sohee and Seokmin amidst the swirling gowns and dapper jackets. They move with an innocent delight that contrasts starkly with the weight of your unspoken feelings. Sohee beams up at him, her laughter bright and infectious, and for a moment, the sight softens the edges of your heartache.

Just then, you feel a presence beside you, and when you turn, you find Viscount Yoon Jeonghan standing there, a knowing smile dancing on his lips. His appearance is as striking as ever; his tailored coat hugs his frame perfectly, and the delicate embroidery along the cuffs catches the light, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His hair falls elegantly around his face, framing those sharp features that always seem to hold a hint of mischief.

“They make quite a pair, do they not?” he murmurs, his voice smooth and warm as he gestures subtly toward the young couple. His eyes sparkle with a mix of humor and curiosity, and for a moment, you’re reminded of the lighthearted conversations you once shared, the way he could lift your spirits without even trying.

You glance back at Sohee and Seokmin, your heart twisting at the sight of them. “It seems so,” you reply, your tone nonchalant, though the bitterness seeps through. “She is quite taken with him.”

Jeonghan’s gaze lingers on the two, but then shifts back to you, an amused glimmer in his eyes. “And yet, I believe it’s Seokmin’s charm that keeps her so enchanted. He has a way of making everyone feel special, does he not?” His words are light, but there’s an underlying sincerity that pulls you in.

“Especially the younger ones,” you add, your voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. You cross your arms, an instinctive barrier against the swell of emotions threatening to break free. Jeonghan tilts his head, studying you with an intensity that makes you self-conscious.

“Ah, but don’t let that dampen your spirits,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I suspect that there’s still magic left in your own waltz.”

You scoff softly, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I’ve had my dance, my Lord. It’s only right that I help guide the next generation.”

He nods, as if he understands more than you’ve revealed. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little bit of the spotlight yourself, does it?” His gaze holds yours for a moment longer, an invitation hanging in the air between you.

Taking a deep breath, you accept his invitation with a gentle nod. Jeonghan extends his hand, and with a sense of determination, you place yours in his. The moment you step onto the dance floor, a familiar spark ignites between you. As you move, you find the rhythm of the waltz is an intoxicating escape from the weight of the evening.

His touch is confident yet gentle, guiding you with an ease that sends warmth through your veins. You laugh softly at his playful quips, the way he effortlessly spins you and twirls you beneath the glimmering chandelier. The surrounding laughter and chatter fade into a soft background hum as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment.

But just as you begin to forget the lingering ache in your heart, a commotion draws your attention away. You glance over to find Sohee in an animated conversation with Seokmin, her eyes wide with excitement. She appears to be swooning—her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink as she clutches her fan, fluttering it in the air as if to cool herself.

And then it happens. As the waltz concludes and the music reaches its crescendo, Seokmin leans down to retrieve Sohee's fan, which had slipped from her grasp in her flurry of emotion. The way he effortlessly picks it up and hands it back to her is undeniably charming. She gazes up at him with unrestrained adoration, and in that moment, it’s as if the entire ballroom falls silent, the air thick with their connection.

Your heart sinks, the joyous moment turning into a bitter reminder of your own unfulfilled longing. You feel the weight of your own feelings crashing down, suffocating the lightness of the dance you just shared with Jeonghan. The innocence of Sohee’s crush, her delight at Seokmin’s attention, stabs at something deep within you, twisting the knife of your heartache just a little deeper.

“Lord Lee is such a gentleman,” Sohee breathes, her eyes sparkling with admiration. You try to smile, but the corners of your mouth feel heavy, the happiness you should feel for her overshadowed by the ache in your chest.

“Quite the pair, indeed,” Jeonghan murmurs beside you, his tone shifting slightly. You glance up at him, but the amusement in his eyes has dimmed, replaced with a knowing sympathy that only intensifies your discomfort.

“I should—” you start, desperate to escape the scene unfolding before you, but Jeonghan catches your gaze, his expression serious yet gentle.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, concern lacing his voice.

You swallow hard, nodding even though you can feel the tears threatening to brim. “Yes, of course. It’s just… a reminder of what I’ve lost.”

Jeonghan’s eyes soften, understanding radiating from him. “Then let’s step outside for a moment, shall we? A breath of fresh air might do you good.”

You nod again, grateful for his presence, and together you slip away from the dancing couples, leaving behind the laughter and music, hoping the cool night air will ease the weight on your heart. As you step outside, the crisp night air envelops you like a silken shawl, drawing you away from the swirling gaiety of the ballroom. The coolness is a welcome reprieve from the warmth of bodies and laughter, and you relish the soft caress of the breeze against your skin, bringing with it a gentle rustling of leaves that whispers secrets from the garden. The scent of blooming jasmine and sweet honeysuckle mingles in the air, heady and intoxicating, wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace.

You move to the stone balcony, where the moon hangs low in the sky, its silvery glow spilling over the manicured gardens below, illuminating the delicate petals of the flowers that sway gently in the evening light. The grass is cool beneath your feet, a delightful contrast to the warmth of your silk gown, and you can feel the slight dampness of dew beginning to settle on the earth, a reminder of the approaching night.

Fidgeting with the lace hem of your gown, you feel the fabric whisper against your ankles, the soft silk cool to the touch. Your heart races as you catch sight of Jeonghan stepping out to join you, his tall frame silhouetted against the glow of the moonlight. He regards you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You love him,” he states matter-of-factly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” You turn to him, surprise etched across your features. Your fingers tighten around the delicate lace, twisting it nervously as if it could shield you from his piercing gaze.

“It is nothing to shy away from,” he continues, his tone surprisingly earnest. “I have observed the two of you for years, engaging in this delightful dance around each other. You love him. That is a fact. Do not shy away from it—love is a beautiful thing, even if it is tinged with loss.”

You force a laugh, the sound almost bitter. “You sound as though you speak from experience.”

“And if I am?” Jeonghan counters, his brow arching slightly, inviting you to delve deeper into the conversation.

“Why, then,” you reply, your heart racing with a mixture of intrigue and dread, “it cannot be that only my secrets are shared tonight.”

“Lady Choi,” he says, the shift in his tone unmistakable, as though he is unearthing a long-buried truth.

“The general’s wife?” you ask, the name escaping your lips with an air of disbelief.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, the lightness of the evening is overshadowed by the weight of his admission. “She was mine first,” he admits, his voice heavy with unspoken emotion. “But her father—he was a cruel man—wished to marry her off before I ever had the chance to court her properly, as adults.”

You draw a sharp breath, the air suddenly feeling thick and heavy around you. “Lord Yoon, it is a sin to desire another man’s wife,” you say softly, your fingers trembling slightly as they continue to play with the delicate fabric of your gown.

“And it is a sin to pine after what cannot be yours,” he replies, a note of melancholy creeping into his voice. “It seems we are both trapped in a most unfortunate dilemma, Miss Xu.”

You hesitate, the truth of his words resonating within you like the toll of a distant bell. You find yourself gazing at the garden below, the moonlight casting long shadows across the path. “I… suppose.”

His expression softens, the tension between you easing slightly as he steps closer, the distance shrinking as if the night conspires to bring you together. “I have an idea, if you are amenable to it,” he proposes, his voice low and conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piquing despite the tumult of your thoughts. “I suppose I have no choice but to hear it.”

“Let us… have an arrangement of sorts.”

Your mind races, the absurdity of the suggestion both ludicrous and strangely enticing. “An… arrangement?” you repeat, incredulous, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“A loveless marriage is better than none at all,” he declares, his eyes glinting with a mixture of seriousness and mischief.

You laugh, unable to contain yourself. “You jest. Have you indulged in more champagne than you can manage?”

“I assure you, I am as clear-headed as the sky on a summer’s day,” he insists, maintaining eye contact with a steady gaze that makes your heart flutter. “We are friends, are we not?”

“Friends? My lord, we have danced a few times, to my mother’s delight,” you reply, a teasing lilt in your voice, though your heart feels heavier with the weight of his words.

He feigns a look of mock hurt, placing a hand theatrically over his heart. “You wound me! We have enjoyed such spirited conversations! I do consider you a friend. And a marriage with a friend—a viscount at that—is nothing to scoff at. Have you given no thought to your future? What happens when your dear brother finds a wife and you are no longer his primary concern?”

The reality of his words settles over you, sending a shiver down your spine. You search the moonlit path, pondering the path that lies ahead. “Just… think about it,” he presses, his voice earnest, the night seemingly holding its breath.

The silence stretches between you, the world around you fading as you consider the proposal. You raise your gaze to his, a flurry of emotions swirling in your heart.

But as the moment hangs in the air, he steps back, creating a chasm of space between you once more. The hope in his eyes flickers like the stars above, illuminating the path of unspoken possibilities.

With a lingering glance, Jeonghan turns to leave, the quiet night reclaiming its stillness. Alone now, you stand beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, a companion that seems to mock your predicament, its light dancing across your skin like a playful breeze. The weight of the evening settles around you, the possibilities of what could have been lingering like a sweet perfume in the air. The garden around you, fragrant and alive, seems to echo your turmoil, the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of crickets a reminder that you are not as alone as you feel—but still, the loneliness wraps around you like a heavy cloak, suffocating and inescapable.

The Queen’s Garden is even more stunning at twilight, an exquisite tapestry of flora bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. Lanterns hang from the branches of ancient trees, casting a warm glow that mingles with the fading daylight, creating a magical ambiance that enchants every guest present. Lush greenery and blooming flowers adorn the paths, their fragrant scents—jasmine, roses, and honeysuckle—drifting through the air like a sweet serenade.

As you weave your way through the throngs of elegantly dressed nobles, the cool evening breeze brushes against your skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth radiating from the lively crowd. The sounds of laughter and spirited conversation wrap around you, punctuated by the delicate notes of a string quartet nestled among the trees, their melodies intertwining with the soft rustle of leaves overhead.

Amidst the gaiety, you scan the faces around you, searching for Sohee. Her absence hangs like a whisper, pulling at your awareness.

Just then, your gaze lands on Lord Yoon Jeonghan, standing across the garden. His tall frame commands attention, and as you meet his eyes, he offers you a teasing wink, a smirk dancing on his lips. He raises his glass in a casual salute, a playful reminder of the “arrangement” he proposed only weeks prior.

But as you turn to continue your search, you hear a soft rustle behind the curtains of the powder room. A frown creases your brow, and with a sense of trepidation, you pull the curtains aside.

What you find steals the breath from your lungs: Sohee, her dress slightly askew, caught in an intimate embrace with Seokmin, hidden from view. Time seems to freeze as you process the scene before you, the vibrant colors of the garden fading into a blur.

They don’t notice your entrance, the warmth of their laughter drifting toward you, blissfully unaware of the precariousness of their moment. A wave of urgency washes over you; you step back, the laughter and music of the ball dimming behind you, overwhelmed by the tension in the air.

The cool mask of indifference you wear feels like a fragile façade, barely holding up against the storm of emotions roiling within you. Every heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythmic reminder of the tension crackling in the air. You force yourself to breathe slowly, deliberately, the sweet scent of blooming flowers mingling with the sharp tang of night air filling your lungs.

You clear your throat, breaking the stillness that envelops the hidden corner where Sohee and Seokmin stand. Your posture is straight, your chin lifted, but your palms feel clammy against the lace of your gown.

“Sohee,” you say, your voice steady and cool, as though dipped in ice, “you should return to your Mama. If anyone else had seen you like this, it would ruin you.” The words hang in the air, each syllable heavy with consequence. You hold her gaze, your eyes fierce, willing her to understand the gravity of the situation.

Sohee’s eyes widen, vulnerability flickering across her face like candlelight. The flush staining her cheeks deepens as she processes your words, a mixture of mortification and gratitude washing over her. She nods, biting her lip, and you watch as she slips past you, shoulders squared despite the embarrassment, grateful for your discretion.

Once she disappears back into the sea of guests, the atmosphere shifts. It’s just you and Seokmin now, the weight of the moment pressing down like a thick fog, the sounds of the ballroom fading into a dull roar. For the first time in years, you stand alone with him, the years of silence and distance palpable between you.

You turn to leave, the flutter of your gown trailing behind you, but his voice stops you, soft and tentative, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Please, don’t go.”

You whirl around, disbelief etched across your features. “Why on earth? What are you doing here?” Your heart pounds, and your fists clench at your sides, the intensity of the moment clawing at your composure.

He takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking, but the space feels charged with electricity. The use of that name—“tulip”—falls from his lips like a spark igniting a fire inside you. Anger bubbles to the surface, your fingers curling into fists. “You have no right to call me that anymore.”

His expression shifts, desperation creeping into his tone as he opens his palms, a gesture of vulnerability. “It’s been four years, and you still won’t give me the chance to explain myself.”

Your chest tightens at the memories, sharp and unyielding, a storm of emotions swirling within you. “So was it because Minghao told you to?”

His gaze darkens, the flicker of regret visible in his eyes. “Yes, but you need to—”

“Good evening, Seokmin.” The words slip from your mouth like ice, cold and final. You turn to leave, your back straight but your heart racing, and he reaches for you, fingers brushing against your arm like a whisper.

You jerk away, anger and hurt surging through you, the fabric of your dress catching in the air as you turn. “Please, stay,” he begs, his voice thick with emotion, almost desperate. “Stay and let me explain—”

You shake your head slowly, each word heavy with the weight of unspoken history. “You lost the right to that four years ago.” Your voice softens, but the resolve behind it remains, a quiet storm ready to break. In a flurry of lace and silk, you turn on your heel, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the thick grass as you leave him standing there, a distant silhouette against the vibrant backdrop of the garden.

The night air feels cooler as you weave through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. You seek solace in the bustling ballroom, where laughter and music swirl around you, a cacophony that drowns out the echo of your heartache. The warmth of the candles flickers against your skin, the soft glow momentarily comforting amidst the chaos.

The crowd shifts around you, a blur of color and laughter, but everything feels muted—distant—as you navigate back toward the main hall. Your heart still pounds, each beat a reminder of the encounter that lingers, bitter as smoke. And then, across the room, a familiar pair of eyes finds yours: Jeonghan. His gaze is intent, assessing, and as he raises his glass to you with an amused smirk, his words from weeks before echo in your mind: “It is a sin to pine after what cannot be yours.”

The decision is instant, unbidden, like the snap of a thread pulled too tight. Steeling yourself, you weave through the crowd toward him, your mind clearing with each step. Jeonghan turns slightly as you approach, his attention shifting from the men he’d been conversing with. You stop just a breath away, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you, even as laughter and chatter fill the air.

“My lord,” you say, voice steady as a blade.

He raises an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Miss Xu?” His eyes gleam in the low light, the gold of the candle flames reflecting in them. “I must say, you look rather lovely in this garden.”

“Yes.” The word is simple, yet it feels like a vow, a quiet certainty.

His smile falters for just a second, replaced by a glimmer of surprise in his eyes before he quickly recovers. He leans in slightly, his voice softened but no less intent.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice calm but resolute. “I shall marry you.”

Jeonghan’s expression settles into something unreadable, a flicker of surprise replaced by the slightest tilt of a smile. He inclines his head, the elegant motion drawing him closer, as though sealing the moment between you.

“A wise decision, Miss Xu,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. The sounds of the garden around you blur into silence, the perfume of roses and night-blooming jasmine heavy on the air, and though the world presses on with its merriment, this quiet promise, made in the hush of the queen’s garden, feels irrevocable.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits@moondustmemories@shinwonderful@ivehypnosis@gwend0lyne@thestoryofana13@mellowamour@blissedjoon@begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld @archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange @uriguyeok @nenojaems @carefully325 @meowmeowminnie @ts19009 @flickhurstyles

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Sticking Point 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: I'm so tireddddd.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You might be keenly aware of your circumstance, off all the flaws in yourself and your surroundings, and of the uncertainty you walk towards. Still, you must confess that Frigga’s best efforts have not all been for not. Despite all fears, all your doubts, you feel closer to adequate than you ever have. 

You hair is tamed beneath the feather pin and the lace gloves are a lovely addition. You emerge proudly, setting your shoulders and your courage for what comes next. As you reach the top of the stairs, you are struck by the first blows of the battle. Voices. Odin and Loki, just below. 

You look down briefly. You see them there, waiting. Frigga keeps her arm hooked in yours and urges you down, step by step. Silence rises as only your short heels tap beneath you. You don’t glance at your betrothed and see the disapproval in his eyes but you know he is watching. 

“Ladies,” Odin nears as you come to the bottom, “you both are exquisite.”  

He kisses Frigga’s hand, then your own. No one’s ever treated you as such, not so genuinely. Manners and etiquette rule all but you can see through the empty gestures. You dip your head and bend your knees slightly in deference. 

“My lawd, thank you,” you say. 

You might compliment him in turn if you weren’t sure he’d take it as some egregious affront. As ever, he is refined down to aa single hair. Your betrothed is handsome from without but inside, you know him to be a snake coiling. 

“Yes, a fine prize for any man,” he keeps hold of your hand and guides you toward his son. You can feel the reluctance roiling off of Lord Laufeyson. He sniffs and offers his arm nonetheless. “Isn’t she immaculate, son?” 

His response comes through a taut throat, “so she is.” 

Odin tuts and backs away. “My wife, please, it’s been too long since I’ve been able to parade you around, show all of my fortune.” 

The elder lord takes his wife by her arm and sweeps toward the doors as two servants pull them open. Loki’s arm is rigid against you, held so that he touches you as little as possible. You keep your head high and fall into pace with him as he follows his father. 

Out of courtesy, only that which is expected, never genuine, he assists you into the carriage. You climb up and maneuver to sit on the bench. Odin and Frigga sit closely, content as they wait patiently. Loki’s weight shifts the compartment as he bows through the door and sits against the wall. Far from you. 

You turn your attention to the window as your husband-to-be thumps on the roof with his fist. The wheels roll forward and slowly build to a canter. The horses’ hooves stave off the silence enough for you to maintain composure. 

You see the manor ahead of you as you approach. It’s lit up with lanterns hung on tall polls. The gates are open to visitors as the driver follows another carriage up the lane way. 

As the wheels come to a halt, the door opens from the other side. A footman greets Odin as he emerges first, Frigga right behind him. You wait for Loki to lead the way and he does without hesitation. You step down beside him and peer over at him. 

He is nothing less than dashing in black and silver. He has that bearing which can never look anything less than stringent. He is unbending but not unbothered. You are aware of his callous spite wrought into a withering silence. 

He proceeds forward and you follow at his side. He does not offer his arm. You don’t expect that much. 

The foyer of the grand manor house has you in awe. Pristine ivory and draped azure, mother of pearl and silver, velvet and marble. You admire it all as you clasp your hands tightly. 

“Lord Odinson,” a tall woman in elegant lilac silver breezes forward, her skirts fluttering like a butterfly, “it is so pleasant to see you again.” 

“Lady Kyrington, it is an honour, as ever,” Odin takes her hand and bows his head. 

“My lady,” the hostess greet Frigga with a courteous dip of her chin. “And your sons?” 

“We’ve brought the younger, I’m afraid the elder is tending to his wife, expecting as she is,” Frigga explains. 

“Ah, Laufeyson,” Lady Kyrington swirls around the esteemed couple, “it is so unlike you to hide away. I hadn’t even noticed you there.” 

He stiffly unhooks his arm from yours and parts. He greets her with a deep bow, “my lady, so wonderful to have received your invitation.” 

You keep your straight, steeling yourself against his congenial tone. You never received that grace from him. Yet here is this woman with her elegant dark coif and bright blue eyes and she is treated as if she is queen. You hardly expect as much but a bit of humanity wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

“And you’ve brought your betrothed. I did hear she arrived.” She turns to you with a pretty smile. “Oh, what a unique colour you’ve chosen. Rustic.” 

“Thank you, my lady,” you say carefully. “And you... look splendid.” 

Laufeyson shifts, noting your choice of words. No Rs to underline your defect.  

“I must offer my condolences,” Kyrington takes your hands in hers; smooth satin brushing over your lace-sheathed fingers. “I heard of your sister. It cannot be easy to brave so much change at once, but let us hope this deep loss gives way to a wonderful prize. I know you and Lord Laufeyson should be most happy at Jade Gardens.” 

“Thank you vewy much,” you forget yourself and immediately blanch. You let her go and lower your hands to clasp over your bodice. Laufeyson’s sole scuffs and he sighs. 

“Ah...” Kyrington tilts her head coyly, “wonderful. I do hope you mingle and acquaint yourself well. We are all terribly excited to meet Laufeyson’s future wife. Never thought we’d see that day.” 

“Yes, my lady, again, many thanks,” you hold your chin high. 

“Yes, let us not impinge upon your welcoming the rest of your guests,” Laufeyson gestures you away. 

He keeps his distance as you step through the grand archway with its carved framed and peer out upon the party. Ladies in fine fabrics sip from stemmed glasses and gentleman toy with monocles and jacket buttons as they speak hushedly of sport or finance. Lord Odin and Lady Frigga have plunged into the fray. 

You glance over at Laufeyson. He huffs and struts away from you without acknowledgement. Your heart sinks. Here, he can lose you in the masses. He can simply excuse himself that he lost you amid the social furor. 

You are on your own. You rest your hand upon your reticule, hooked around your wrist. Ester’s pin is nestled there, to bring you her courage. She would not want you to wilt away. She always did mourn when the daffodils she picked began to droop. 

Your chest racks tightly and you exhale through the wave of terror. You haven’t any idea what to do. How should you approach any when it is upon Laufeyson to introduce you. He has abandoned you. You expect it won’t be the last time. 

You wade into the chamber. You stay near to the wall but not so close that you might appear mousy. You catch an eye over a painted fan and another from beneath a hat brim. You search for any hint of your escort. He has expertly hidden himself amid the revelry. 

“Where ever did you find this shade of silk?” A tweet snares you in. “And the overlay, how keen.” 

You pause and face the speaker. A blond woman, willowy and decked in several jeweled necklaces. Her portrait neckline frames her bony shoulders as golden ringlets drape down her back. 

“Thank you, my lady,” you turn to her delicately, “my motha acquawed it in Hausten.” 

Her lashes flick as the other women at her shoulders share a look. You steel yourself for mockery. For so long as you’ve lived, you’ve received the same, but not from so many. There are dozens here prepared to degrade you.  

Be brave, for Ester. 

“Ah, and you hale from Hausten? I’ve never heard that accent though I’ve travelled there,” she challenges. 

“My fatha owns the vineyard in Kywi.” 

“Kywi?” She echoes and the other women titter behind their fans. 

“Ky-wi--” you try to force out the proper enunciation, then attempt to spell it. “K-y-aw-i.”  

“Hm,” she sniffs thoughtfully and peeks between the other women and shrugs. 

“I know Kyri,” a bold timbre intones as a man steps up. “I’ve been. The grapes there are like plums.” 

“Yes, my lawd, that is it,” you affirm. 

“I’ve not been in some time but I do have wine imported,” he drawls. “Lady Gertrude, your father is from the other side of Hausten, is he not?” 

“South of it,” the blonde curls her lip at you. 

“South, ah, it might explain the difference in etiquette,” he puts his attention to you, “typically we are kind to newcomers.” 

“I was not uncouth,” Lady Gertrude insists. “I couldn't understand her cadence.” 

“It was clear enough to me,” he girds. “Forgive me, lady, I expound propriety and I’ve not yet introduced myself. Lord Heimdall, my estate is in Bifrost. Have you heard of it?” 

“Ugh,” Lady Gertrude sends him a withering look which is unheeded. He bows his head and takes your hand in that courteous way gentlemen do and he pecks your knuckles. She stomps away with the other women in tow. 

“Don’t mind those sparrows,” Lord Heimdall says as he stands straight. He is near as tall as Laufeyson but broader in the shoulders. And his eyes, they are a peculiar shade of brown, so light they seem golden. “I thought to rescue you from their sharp tongues. They have a reputation for gossip.” 

“Oh, thank you, my lawd,” you squeeze your reticule anxiously. “It is kind.” You sway and look around. “You needn’t wemain. I’m saw you have otha social obligations.” 

“Yes, to socialize, as I am doing in this moment,” he insists. “You are Lord Laufeyson’s engaged, from Kyri. Your banns were read on Sunday.” 

“Yes, my lawd.” You avert your eyes, too embarrassed to look at him. “Twuly, I needn’t pity.” 

“Pity? Why?” 

“My lawd, do not toy with me. I can haw myself.” 

“Your words? No, they shouldn’t bother me. You are eloquently spoken, my lady.” 

Your eyes round as the flick to him. You consider him, trying to untie any thread of derision in his voice. 

“You are suspicious? I suspect others are not so accepting, but don’t let it fetter you. No matter who you are, they will find a reason to whisper,” he shrugs. “I’ve not yet seen your fiance. Is he not near?” 

You hold back a wince at the mention of Laufeyson. You swivel your head but do not see him amid the sea of caps and coifs. You muster a smile. 

“I suppose he is on the hunt faw a wefweshment,” you appease. 

“Is that so? I think, should I have a lady avowed to wed me, I might keep her close but I never did presume that all gentlemen hold the same priorities as I,” he harrumphs. “Perhaps, in claiming a refreshment for myself, I would see that she had one as well.” 

He gazes around the room and strides away confidently. He plucks two glasses from a servants’ tray with some murmured nicety. He comes back to you and offers you one. There is a dried orange in the wine and a sprig of mint. You thank him. 

“Yes, and I know you likely tire of the reminder, but I must issue my condolences. I hear Lady Ester was a very kind soul. I would see her sister is not much different.” 

Your eyes sting and you take a sip from the crystal. You nod and dab your lips with your knuckles. 

“She was... the best sista I could’ve asked faw.” 

“You must miss her terribly,” he nods. 

You stare at him, still wary. Yet, you find nothing but assurance in his stance, his gaze, his tone. He is entirely focused on you. He is the first person, aside from Ester, to ever pay heed to you. That does not treat you as some pest to be tolerated and nothing more. 

“I do,” you confess, “evewy second.” You take a breath as you tamp down your grief. 

“While it might feel a curse to mourn so deeply, it is truly a blessing for it is only that we had someone to love so succinctly that we feel their absence to our bones,” he says. “So you should not evade that pain, my lady, but embrace it as you would your sister should she were here. That hurt is her memory, it is her being, to remind you always that she remains close.” 

Your lashes flick and you gently touch the brim of your eyes, “my lawd.” 

“Forgive me for drawing it to the surface,” he says. “I would say let us talk of happy things but I see she is those happy things.” 

You press your lips together and dip your head, “she is, and I thank you, my lawd, for weminding me of that.” 

[myokk]

remembering the snow

pairing: Imelda Reyes x Poppy Sweeting

word count: 3,2k

summary:

Imelda remembers the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

***

Or: a character study on Imelda and how she grew up because I love her & she doesn't get enough appreciation :)

cw: none, this is just a love letter to Imelda

a/n: or: this was the first oneshot I ever wrote, and it holds such a special place in my heart. I think it might be my favorite 🥹🫶

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves.

Her mother always talked about the circumstances of her birth with pride: Imelda came quickly as if she were eager to get out and see the world already, screaming even before she had fully left her mother's womb, determined to leave an indelible mark on the world.

The women in their village who had assisted the birth crossed themselves, chattering to each other in quick, soft, beautiful Spanish staccato about the baby who was already unlike any they had ever seen before. Strong and healthy and beautiful, her deep brown eyes already taking in her surroundings and watching them solemnly moments after her arrival.

Her father always talked about the circumstances of her childhood: running wild and free, flying before she could walk (a source of great pride), his little shadow who peppered him with endless questions about the world. He always brought her along to his work meetings much to everyone's delight; she was with him when he was offered the enviable position of Spanish Diplomat to the British Ministry of Magic.

At the age of five, they left the beautiful sleepy village where time hadn't seemed to exist. Imelda still dreams of long, hot, dusty days playing under the shade of orange trees, going to the market every two days with her mother draped in their finest silks, sleeping and lying around during the hottest part of the day, only leaving their house once the sun left its highest point and was about to disappear behind the mountains.

The older women in the village doted on her. If she thinks hard, she can recall their beautiful, wavering voices calling out to her as she raced past them: 'ten cuidado, cariño, te vas a mancar', 'ven aquí, cielo, te quiero ver la cara tan bonita', 'mira cómo se está creciendo, se nota que va a ser una belleza de mayor'...voices filled with comfort and love. She never knew anything different then.

She's their only child. Her mother was always brushing her hair and humming, trying to get her to sit still and listen to her endless fairy tales as the sun bore down on them; her father, treating Imelda like the son he had always wished for but accepting and loving her all the same. Sometimes, her mother would let her out of the house before the sun became too strong and they would fly around the mountains and be free free free.

Arriving to Edinburgh at the age of five, Imelda hadn't even realized she didn't speak the same language as the other children around her. As with everything else, she jumped in headfirst. Her mother always jokes that she became fluent in English the second she stepped foot on Scottish soil. To Imelda, it does seem that way. She can't ever remember not speaking in the soft Scottish burr, reminiscent of the soft Spanish she had left behind and still spoke at home.

As a child, she never had problems forging relationships with whoever was around her. She was brash and inquisitive and irresistible, taking charge wherever she went. The other children flocked around her, hanging on to her every word.

It changed, though, when her mother got her cough. It started out harmless enough, a slight cough and headache before bed each night. When her mother woke up every morning, she would be fine. But going to bed early changed to going to bed even earlier and earlier until it was time to accept what the three of them were steadfastly ignoring: she was getting worse.

Imelda was nine. She remembers her mother drying her tears with gentle, soft hands, caressing her cheeks and whispering to her that it would be fine. That she wasn't gone yet: they still had time.

'No pasa nada, mi amor. Siempre estaré contigo.'

At Hogwarts, things changed even more. She was a Slytherin and proud of it, but she never quite fit in with her classmates. She wasn't one of them, hadn't grown up with them, and they made sure she knew it. Gone were the days of running wild: she turned her single-minded determination to her studies and quidditch and found herself excelling at everything she put her mind to. It all came easily to her and she had no time for anyone who could distract her.

She wasn't a complete loner. She had her quidditch teammates, her partners in various classes, but nobody she hung out with outside of classes. She always studied alone, learned alone, trained alone.

(Of course, the picture she paints to her father in owls home is much different. He has enough on his mind - a daughter struggling to make friends is a non-issue as far as Imelda is concerned. And besides: she's fine.)

Imelda was quite content with the way things were working out for her. She would never admit if she was lonely or not, and enjoyed every part of her life. Until her fifth year, when everything began to change. Gone were her rigid schedules and studying alone and discipline. A new girl was sorted into Slytherin and Imelda found she didn't hate the girl's company. The two of them laugh together at night while they braid each others' hair, Imelda teaches her Spanish, and they have started to study together.

The new student drags her around Hogwarts and Imelda finds herself actually enjoying herself and enjoying spending time with the classmates she’s spent so many years ignoring.

This is when she meets Poppy Sweeting.

Well...Poppy swears that they met ages ago, during their first year when they were partnered together in Potions. Imelda has no recollection - that whole year was a blur - it was the year her mother succumbed to her illness - so she has to take Poppy's word for it.

She finds herself with friends for the first time in a long time. But, when the new student is running off with Sebastian doing Merlin-knows-what, things that Imelda definitely does not want to be a part of, she still finds herself seeking Poppy's company.

Poppy is sweet and fun and introverted in a way that Imelda finds familiar and comfortable: whereas Imelda turns to her studies and quidditch, Poppy often opts to spend time more time with beasts than humans. But there's something endearing about her earnestness and Imelda starts to find herself craving Poppy's calm company.

She always knows what to say when Imelda finds herself getting worked up over nothing.

On the train home for the winter holidays, as Imelda is striding down the long corridor in search of an empty cabin where she can read and concoct fail-proof quidditch tactics, Poppy calls her over to her carriage and asks Imelda to keep her company. She only needs to ask once. There's an unfamiliar fluttering in Imelda's stomach as she sits across from Poppy and the other girl beams at her but it's...well. It's not altogether unpleasant. They play exploding snap and exchange book recommendations and laugh together and...well, if Imelda's knee brushes against Poppy's occasionally or their fingers linger as they exchange essays to look over...

She can't be blamed, can she?

A letter from Poppy arrives over the break. At the sight of Poppy's small brown owl tapping the window with the letter in its beak, Imelda's heart starts racing and she runs over to the bird, grinning like a fool, but she pauses before opening it. Her fingers tremble as they hover over the wax seal.

Imelda's father is largely absent these days, a shadow of the man she had grown up with. She's noticed the difference over the summer too, of course, but the winter always feels different. More desolate; more harsh. They're nearing the four-year anniversary of her mother's death. It's impossible to ignore the fact that losing his wife has damaged his soul irreparably, and Imelda's seeing first-hand what being deeply in love can do to a person.

Maybe she'll put the letter aside and read it tomorrow.

Tomorrow bleeds into the next day turns into one week and before she can blink the bleak winter vacation with her father has ended and she's heading back to Hogwarts.

On the train, she walks past Poppy: the two of them make eye contact but Poppy flushes and looks out the window, tucking her honey-colored hair behind her ear and Imelda moves on to the next empty carriage. She pulls out some parchment and works on revising her Charms essay. It's for the best, anyway, she tells herself. For the best that she doesn't have any distractions. Their O.W.L.s are coming up and she's determined to get an O in every subject.

The month of January goes by in a flash. Between the insane quidditch schedule she's concocted for her team and the study sessions in the library, she keeps herself busy. The new fifth-year, her first real friend, starts to show concern for Imelda, gently trying to ask her what's going on as they braid each others' hair before bed.

Imelda doesn't want to bother her, though.

(She doesn't truly know what's the matter, anyways.)

She resolves to do a better job with keeping her emotions in check - her friend has enough on her plate, and Imelda doesn't want her to have to worry over something that's not even a problem in the first place.

She's fine.

Out of the corner of her eye in the classes she shares with Poppy, Imelda notices that she doesn't look as happy as she normally does. Her face is more pale and withdrawn; whenever Imelda's eyes flicker to her, her own gaze darts away.

With the beginning of February come a lot of blizzards, and they make Imelda remember the first time she saw snow.

Her parents always started the story telling her that she cried and cried and cried.

They had both run over to her, covering her with warm hugs and kisses, the tiny family huddled together in this foreign place where the people looked and spoke differently, where nothing was the same and she missed the old women who would give her mazapanes whenever she ran by, missed the tiny clouds of dust that would puff up as she ran and the hazy mountains in the distance and the hot, hot sun beating down while she played in the shade of the orange trees while her mother slept away the heat. Pulling her mittened hands off of her tear-stained face and telling her 'mira cariño, mira qué bonita es la nieve. Tócala, ya verás que no pasa nada...estamos aquí contigo...'

Her tears had soon dried and she was laughing and playing in the snow and she couldn't even remember what had made her so sad in the first place.

Imelda's sad now as she stares out the window.

Her mother isn't there anymore. She has no one to turn to in this self-imposed exile.

Four years ago today.

She's hidden herself away in an alcove, curled up, arms wrapped around her knees watching the snow swirling out the window. She canceled quidditch practice today due to the storm, much to everyone's surprise. Just last week, she had forced them to train in the freezing rain and today's snowfall is mild in comparison. But...today she doesn't have the energy. She's spent so much effort pretending that everything's fine when it's not and now she's sad and alone and confused.

She doesn't hear Poppy when she comes near.

The other girl crowds into Imelda's space, pressing against her in the alcove. The two face each other, and Poppy brings a gentle hand up to Imelda's face to brush away tears she hadn't even realized were falling.

"What -" Imelda starts saying, but a fresh sob chokes her and she can't. Poppy leans forward and wraps her arms around Imelda, pulling her into a close embrace. Imelda feels everything crumbling around her and she sobs into Poppy's shoulder - Poppy whispering reassurances and smoothing her hair, cradling Imelda as she cries and cries and cries.

They don't leave the alcove for another hour, almost staying out after curfew.

Imelda is subdued the next few days. The snow continues to fall until the whole castle looks like it's straight from one of the fairy tales her mother used to tell her as she brushed her hair. Imelda shows up for meals, shows up for classes, shows up in the study group, but she feels like she's just going through the motions.

She can tell her friend is getting worried, but Imelda can't confide in her. Her friend does small gestures anyways because she understands: saving Imelda a seat in class, asking her about quidditch, saving her favorite muffins for her at breakfast.

Maybe she talked to Sebastian about her worry because even he is being nicer than normal to Imelda, asking her if she wants to play wizarding chess with the two of them. Imelda doesn't really understand how or why they like playing the game so much - her friend is awful at it and Sebastian seems to enjoy the destruction and chaos more than actually strategizing. Even though Imelda hates the game - every move is painfully obvious and she can't understand how nobody else sees it like she does - maybe it would be nice to do something different.

Imelda freezes when they enter the Astronomy Tower to play: Poppy is there, waiting. For her. They haven't seen each other since she broke down humiliated and sobbing and she doesn't know what to do.

Sebastian looks between the two of them, brows furrowed, then leans down to their friend and whispers something in her ear. She nods and the two of them disappear, leaving Imelda and Poppy alone.

Poppy stands and Imelda can feel her heart start to hammer against her throat. Poppy walks forward slowly, only stopping when she's right in front of Imelda. When she speaks, her voice is high and sweet and Imelda realizes how much she missed her. "I-I'm sorry, I just didn't know how else I could talk to you. Will you come with me? I have something to show you."

Imelda nods mutely and Poppy takes her hand. They lace their fingers together and it's the first time - apart from a few days ago - that they have voluntarily touched each other. She feels Poppy's fingers tighten around hers and Imelda focuses on the feeling of soft knuckles under her thumb, but now...she's self-conscious for the first time about her quidditch-rough hands and maybe she should have listened to her friend when she tried to encourage Imelda to use some hand lotion.

Maybe Poppy will let go of her hand and leave in disgust.

But...Poppy doesn't do any of that. Every so often, she looks up at Imelda, smiling slightly. When they reach the Entrance Hall, she lets go of Imelda's hand and Imelda feels its loss with a pang.

Poppy opens the bag at her side and pulls out two huge yellow and black Hufflepuff scarves. As she's reaching up to wrap one around Imelda, she whispers: "sorry, I only have these. But yellow looks good on you."

Both of them flush and smile at each other and Imelda doesn't know how long they stand before Poppy grabs her hand again, making sure their fingers are laced, and then they are heading out.

Poppy looks more and more excited the closer they get to the Forbidden Forest, but Imelda's never set foot even remotely close to the forest, and she feels quite apprehensive at first. But, Poppy's excitement is exhilarating - Imelda can feel it rolling off of her in waves and despite herself, she begins to feel excited too. They still haven't spoken since leaving Hogwarts, but it's a comfortable silence. Imelda's glad for the scarf - their breath is puffing out in soft clouds as they breathe and it's quite cold - the freezing temperatures in Scottish winters are still something she's never quite gotten used to.

Their boots crunch through the snow-filled landscape - it's nearing dusk and the sky is turning a brilliant shade of orange and pink, but it gets obscured by the tree branches the further into the Forbidden Forest they venture, the golden light only showing in bursts now.

"Almost there," Poppy says breathlessly. She beams up at Imelda, whose breath catches at the sight, before turning back and pulling her faster and faster until they stop in a clearing. They've stopped in the middle, and Imelda looks around.

Here, they can actually see the sky and it is breathtaking in its beauty - the gnarled, naked trees around them twisting and reaching up as if they could try and grasp some of the beauty for themselves. The snow is perfectly smooth and untouched except for the footprints that the two of them have just left. Apart from that, the clearing is nondescript.

This is what Poppy had been so excited to show her?

Poppy gives no explanation for why she brought Imelda to the Forbidden Forest, but she's almost quivering in excitement - Imelda can feel the tension in the hand that's clutching hers tightly. The sun sets lower and lower, the two of them watching it as the colors around them start to fade and mute and then -

Poppy gasps in delight.

There -

A small, dancing, brilliant white light sparks to their left and disappears just as quickly.

"Look," Poppy whispers. Imelda glances over to her - she can barely make out her face in the dimming light, but Poppy seems to be glowing with happiness.

There - again -

More and more of the brilliant white lights appear, glowing and flickering on and off, and moving in almost a pattern, dancing around their heads. Imelda laughs as she watches the tiny creatures fly around them. It's magical and beautiful and -

"I found the snow sprite nest a few weeks ago, when the blizzards started, and I've been observing them since then. I...I wanted to show you and tell you about them the second I found out because I haven't stopped thinking about you but after...well, you know...I just wanted to cheer you up..."

Poppy trails off, looking uncertain when Imelda doesn't say anything in response.

She can't, even though she desperately wants to. Her mouth goes dry as she looks to the girl at her side, who has done all of this, for her.

Poppy looks impossibly lovely in the glow of the snow sprites, as they dance and spark around their heads in a beautiful waving pattern and Imelda doesn't even think as her hand goes to Poppy's cheek. Poppy stops rambling as she looks up into Imelda's eyes.

Then, before she can lose her nerve, Imelda leans forward and presses her lips to Poppy's. It's only the lightest of touches, but her heart is beating so quickly and Merlin, she can't believe she just did that. She quickly retreats, face flaming, but before she can get away Poppy reaches up to cup Imelda's cheeks with both hands and she pulls her forward, her mouth greedy, desperate, as they finally kiss.

When they finally pull away, breathing heavily as their foreheads rest against each other, Imelda can't help the huge smile that's threatening to split her face open. It mirrors the expression she sees on Poppy, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed and she is just so lovely that Imelda can't help but lean forward and capture her mouth again. Their lips mold to each other and it's the culmination of all of their stolen glances, touches, secret wishes.

Imelda Reyes has never been one to do things by halves, after all .

A HUGE thank you to @dom1re and @thingsmaygetalittlecrazy for reading this oneshot recently and leaving me such amazing comments on ao3😭♥️♥️♥️ they made me reread this oneshot & I remembered how much I love it🫶

[impperfectcritiques]

tw: depression

I’m spit balling here but I would like to hear your thoughts on this:

alright, I genuinely don’t care that much for Stolas but one of the few things that genuinely irritates me when it comes to the character is how the show shows us that he “has depression/depressive moments”. No, he does not. People could argue that other episodes before Sinsmas he had his medicine therefore didn’t exhibit the traits (even though some antidepressants can show symptoms like nausea, weight gain, etc), the only thing we see of “non medicated” Stolas is sadness. DEPRESSION IS NOT JUST SADNESS. I myself don’t have depression but I have family members who do have it. I’ve seen how depressed people were like at a VERY YOUNG AGE, they are not just sad, they can be extremely tired, loss of emotion, dread, feeling of worthlessness, and sometimes can lead to addiction. I find it more frustrating that the writers coughVivcough thought that depression is just a sympathy point for people to feel bad for Stolas. At best we don’t see enough of Stolas feeling dread, or overconsumption of alcohol. I’m not even saying Stolas should show suicidal ideation, I’m just saying SHOW MORE THAN JUST SADNESS, DRINK ALCOHOL AND TAKE PILLS. The first thing I think of when establishing a character with depression is having them in bed and having a caretaker/friend try talking to them or having a schedule therapy. I’m not a writer but neither is Viv so. It just really makes me feel like the writer really doesn’t know what depression is and is just using it as a brownie point or it was an afterthought.

YEA. I have chronic depression due to just a bad roll on DNA and a shitty childhood.

Show stolas struggling more to do things to get that release of endorphins, show him struggling to be present.

Also the "happy pills" or whatever piss me off... It's a similar issue with Lucifer and his depiction of depression, which is treated more like a joke.

Like if stolas was seen constantly smoking or smth to the point its extremely noticable that would work.

Also drinking alcohol while on antidepressants FUCKS YOU UP, like not just emotionally, but like,,,, all over, its really unsafe and actually dulls the affect of alcohol, from my own experience.

I think it would make a lot of sense for stolas to have mental issues in his situation, and I think it could of been used to show how different people react to being put in the same situation! **cough cough** Stella...

[miwiheroes]

Hey! Miwiheroes

I saw you succesfully converting a mileven into a byler, and can you do the same to me plz? I don't like mileven community, they often are really close minded and I don't wanna be a part of it anymore. I open the debate and please try to justify this things that make me believe in mileven endgame:

1- Mike has insecurities since s1 about feeling needed and having somebody to lean on, I do believe Mike's family lacks love and is cold, and maybe that is why he has those insecurities. Where am I going with this? Well, when El disappeared, Mike got super upset and, in my opinion, he overprotected Will so he could FEEL like somebody needed him, I think Finn and the Duffers mention it in an interview a while ago. So maybe that is the cause he couldn't say "I love you" to Eleven, he even says it, he believes she will leave him eventually, like everybody does. That is probs the cause he is obsessed with El in s3, because he really loves her and is too scared of losing her.

I just can't see why byler is supposed to be the endgame. I think in s5 Mike will motivate El to fight and they eventually will come together at the end, having their happy ending.

+ Maybe he was sad in the snowball because he thought El would just leave him there

Those insecurities are not healthy for a relationship, but they show he really loves her

I would love to see this things from a byler perspective if you can

Tyyy

Hiya!! Glad you came to me it's such an honour tbh

Yes, Mike definitely has insecurities surrounding being needed. The thing is: character arcs being set up in season 4 suggest that El no longer needs him/ should no longer need love from a man who treats her badly, makes her feel insecure. The change from the beginning of season 4 to the end clearly shows this:

El thinks she needs Mike's love to know that she is not a monster.

El goes to the lab and figures out by herself without Mike's love that she is not a monster.

Mike says 'I love you' to her. He calls her a 'superhero'. It does not work and does not save Hawkins because she no longer needs that.

They are not on the best terms afterwards because El has a very different perspective on things.

So now we've established that it's pretty clear that she no longer needs him. I think she's realised by the end, that their relationship won't work. This is why they won't be endgame for me, it makes no sense for her storyline in S5 to be Mike 'motivating her'.

She does not need a man to motivate her, cmon. Come on now. A point in season 4's lab storyline is that she can do all this shit by herself, drawing on her mother's love. She was able to gain back her powers through love, but at that point she had no clue Mike loved her or not. And yet she still got them back. She did not need Papa either, and he was constantly paralleled to MIKE in season 4.

Okay back to the beginning of your ask.

Mike's always been protective of Will, and we can see how their relationship is very different compared to their other friends throughout season one. An example of him being protective is when he does stuff like:

"I'm the only one acting normal here. I'm the only one that cares about Will."

"So this is all Will's fault?!"

*Literally pushes his bully over onto the ground and is willing to fight him after he says homophobic things about him*

*Constantly urges Lucas that Will is alive when the rest of them don't think so*

Like, bro literally instigates all his friends to go out looking for him in the rain, because he believes that would be what Will would do for them ("he put himself in danger to help the party").

So in your point of view, Mike projected his protective feelings about someone needing him onto Will because he's upset about El being gone. Couldn't the EXACT same thing be said but the opposite way around then? Mike likes to be needed. And it just happens to be that these two people need him in that moment. However, THE DIFFERENCE is this:

When Will goes missing? Mike never gives up. He constantly urges his friends to do whatever it takes to find Will. The reason he keeps El around (before he makes friends with her) is because bad people are after her and because she recognises Will in a photo. He says that El is a weapon and that "we can't find Will if we're dead". Even when they all believe him to be dead, he says that Will isn't because of something he heard on the radio, just like how Joyce heard him on the phone.

When El goes missing? Mike gives up. To be honest, it's been a year. Maybe if Will went missing for a year, he would have given up then too. But, we can see in a flashback scene from the VERY DAY that El goes missing, Mike literally sees her and doesn't go after her. The government does, but he just squints at her and doesn't do anything. Mike calls her on the walkie, and on halloween, he stops, prioritising Will and later figuring out that meeting him was the best thing he's ever done, and it seems conclusive. He has no hope of her being alive because he says to Max, "But she's gone, just like Bob." (Bobs literally just died so hes saying shes dead). Mike never uses Will as a vessel to find El, even though he easily could, being that he's connected to the upside down.

So where am I going with this? No. Mike does not project his feelings onto Will from his feelings about El. The behaviours he exhibits are continuous from his feelings before El went missing, and he doesn't treat him in the same way.

Some other points you brought up were:

Mike is afraid to lose El and that is why he can't say I love you. Of course he is afraid to lose her. He cares about her, he's said that truthfully. He's afraid to lose Dustin, he's afraid to lose Will, he's afraid to lose Lucas, he's afraid to lose anyone. He feels that survivors' guilt from season one especially though, which is all the more upsetting about why he says I love you in the end. Will tells Mike that El needs him and always will. Mike gets the belief that El needs him to say I love you to her, and gets reminded by Will before he says it. AND SO that is why he says it to her in the end. In reality of course, it is Will that needs him. SOOOO the thing that makes him 'love' El is that fact that she needs him, but he's going to get a real shock when he realises he loved the version of El that's really Will and what he feels.

Mike lives in a loveless and cold family. No he's not in a completely loveless family. Karen loves both her kids and expresses it regularly, and we even see this in season 4 when Karen hugs Mike at the reunion scene. I guess what you might be talking about is Ted and Karen. Here's the fucking thing. Mike knows his parents are not in love. He thinks that's what relationships are supposed to look LIKE. He internalises his family's issues. So, he gets into a relationship like his parents', a loveless one. In season 3 we see him trying to act on logic not emotion, seeing that getting into a relationship like this is just the logical course of action and just part of growing up. That's exactly what NANCY DOES WITH STEVE and yet I don't see people going 'oH shE lOveS hiM sHe jUst nEvEr sEen hEr pAreNts sAy iT!!!!'. We can all agree that she just tried to emulate her parents, but she doesn't actually love him. (SHE EVEN SAID I LOVE YOU OUT LOUD but still can't mean it truthfully). But how about we break this cycle? Breaking cycles of loveless relationships is one of the themes in stranger things so it makes sense for this to happen again.

Maybe he's sad in the Snowball scene because he thinks maybe El will leave him there. He only seemed upset when Will went with someone else and the camera shots literally makes it clear? I have a whole post on this if you want to read it: Snowball Scene Analysis. When El comes in, he doesn't say anything like 'Oh I had no idea you'd be here'. I believe that he knew she was coming, and sitting on that chair, he was conflicted given everything that went on with him that season, the promises he's made to El vs. the way he feels about Will now. The one shot of him looking at her also doesn't make him seem happy, but yeah, take that scene and do what you want with it tbh.

OOF okay thankyou so much for your ask!! This was quite the challenge but it really actually gave me a whole new perspective on things and I really love these asks because it gives me a chance to better understand the show itself <3 Let me know if you're swayed or smth haha or if you have a counterpoint :)

Also thanks for not being toxic. If anyone wants to come and debate with me, do it in this way, because there is no space for negativity and toxicity on my page thankyou very much.

[valentine-cafe]

Can I order a Mango Sticky Rice, please?

(Afab reader)

Just imagining Lisse being asked to keep her hands to herself while you two are playing together. You know she’s aching to touch you; to put her hands on you and give you pleasures you’ve never known, but you asked her to be good, because you want to be the one to touch and pull pleasure after pleasure from her body.

You promised her that afterwords, she can touch you all she’d like, but for now you’re determined to keep her hands pinned above her body and her moans filling the air.

-🎐

˖⁺. ﹙ nature elemental gf  x afab reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . hands to yourself !! 🍒 :  nature elemental ˖ mercenary leader character﹙ verse 9948e lisse. ﹚

you tell her to keep her hands to herself so that you can pleasure her like she deserves. | cw: scissoring 

Her hands are meant to worship you — so to have them pinned while you treated her as divine left all sorts of sensations spiralling through her body.

Lisse’s noises always caressed your ears like the kisses of petals. Today seemed to be no exception, if anything, the melody of her sounds affected you to higher degrees.

“Such a pretty girl . . .”

Your thumb swirls at her perked nipple. The sensations bring a bite to her lip and a buck of her hips into yours. One of her legs drapes over your shoulder like a vine. She’s open to you like a flower. Her cunt spills her sweet nectar as yours grinds up into hers. Hips locked at angles meant for her pleasure.

“P-P-. . . . Please - h-ah -”

Pink dims with the flutters of thick lashes. Her soft breast jiggle with every rough thrust of your hips, every jerky breath of her own. Flowers bloom across her shoulders, to her arms, twining out of her ebony locks splayed behind her on the pillow.

Your clits kiss at every buck. Just as eager for each other. At one point you force your weight down and angle yourself at a stiff, rubbing stutter to hump your pearl up against hers at a pace that makes her eyes cross at the centre.

“I - I - h-. . . h-a- mngh-! P-Pleasepleaseplease-”

She’s in full bloom. Squirting all over you the second you lean down to smoosh your breast into hers. Who needs air when she has your heated pants over her?

All the while, your hips continue their sensual rock. Eager to overflow her once more while one hand reaches down to cup around her breast.

“So good f’me. . . come on baby, give me another?” Your batting lashes will be the death of her. She can only whine into the tenderness of your lips as you begin shimmying your hips down into hers. Stirring hot pleasure through her entire body.

Don’t you know roses cannot cope in severe heat? The poor woman is beside herself — with hands still begging to touch you.

[highfantasy-soul]

So I read Bloodmarked and feel the strong urge to write a 'fix it' fic for a certain love story.

spoilers, obviously

the insane desire to fix the Sel/Bree dynamic - starting in book 1 - is strong

Sel should have remained combative to Bree in book one, not suddenly turn and fall madly in love with her by the end of the book. He should have only stayed with her for duty because she's Arthur's Scion and it should have been made clear in the story that it was killing him staying with Bree because he's bonded to Nick.

He should have still been combative as she doesn't want to stay hidden, but it should have been 100% duty as to why he was staying with her and protecting her.

BREE should have actually done things to change his mind, not just be the main character. She should have studied past Order dangers they faced and how they overcame them, she should have kept training with weapons and her aether, she should have actually DONE things to try to get Nick back (giving updates after her bloodwalks), and should have worked tirelessly to help others and learn enough to really help in this war.

AND she should have shown how she's different from just any other Scion - she should have pushed for a different perspective, sought out others to help in the battle since she does know about others who use magic. She should have pushed for inclusion and bringing everyone into this fight in the ways they can instead of just leaving it to the Order. She should have researched more about Merlins through this study of magic and perhaps pointed out inconsistencies in the official records, she should have gotten empathy after seeing how much is expected of Merlins and the standards they have to keep and the punishments if they don't - giving her understanding for Sel's position and why he behaved the way he did in book 1. She should have kept in touch with the Lieges who are part of this war, but have different perspectives too.

They should have SEEN each other DOING things to protect people and fight demons SEPARATELY rather than Sel only existing to protect Bree when she's done something stupid or someone is after her. Bree should have DONE something other than run around helpless and complaining about being helpless until she explodes with power.

They should have learned to RESPECT each other for their own actions and histories and seeing how hard each other are trying to do the right thing - and always butting heads because their methods are so different. KEEP the arguments! KEEP the conflicting perspectives - but have them argue with RESPECT for each other, pleading their own cases, but never devolving to petty shit since, you know, they should be focused on protecting people from Camlann.

---

THEN.

THEN! When Bree is attacked and is bleeding out and Sel gives all his energy to keep her alive, THAT'S when he realizes that he's not just saving her because she's the Crown Scion, he's saving her because she's Bree. He can't stop thinking about what would be taken from the world if BREE is dead (her desire to bring together the different communities, her desire to help others even when she can't access her power, her questioning of long-held beliefs and push back on how Merlins are treated and how enslaved all the Legendborn are to the Order's rules down to who they're allowed to marry and her desire to change that) and that he didn't think once about the cost to the Order or the Lines. THEN we can have his change and the slow burn enemies-to-lovers become apparent.

Nix all this 'you're the most strongest, beautifulest, bravest, phenomenal person I've ever met' bullshit - since he can't give examples of her ever being those things! If you think you can come up with reasons, give me some that don't revolve around her power or her attempting to claim her authority - give me some examples of her ACTUALLY HELPING people. As it stands, the narrative only gives us 'Bree is super powerful and pretty and that's enough to make her brave' - no actual action on her part, just how she was born.

Idk, all the tension was just like......we GET IT! She and Sel LIKE EACH OTHER!!! The narrative just has to have arbitrary reasons they can't be together even though they're very clearly attracted to each other! Sel was super concerned about her being out to hurt Nick in book 1, then 180 and he's in love with her now. It's ok for him to be annoyed that she's in the middle of this and she has no idea what she's doing! It's ok that he's annoyed she has such little frame of reference as to how to fight this war and lead the Order! It's ok if he's still annoyed at her in book 1 because he thinks Nick deserves a bodyguard who actually knows what they're doing!

It really pissed me off that Sel started out as a cool, very hard and sharp character, then once he decided he didn't want to kill Bree anymore, he became a completely soft butterball of a person. LET GRAY CHARACTERS KEEP THEIR EDGES!! Stop smoothing their rough parts once we're on the 'to lovers' path!!

Their whole contention could be that she's studied the Order and sees all the ways it needs to change and offer solutions - maybe specifically how the Merlins are treated - and Sel could push back because of all his self-loathing and fear of himself that the Order pushed in him and so he's always playing 'devil's advocate' for the Order and all their methods of control. Stay in line and you stay safe - they've kept Onceborn safe all these years, why fix what isn't broke and risk the chaos that would bring - chaos demons feed on. Bree could push back on him arguing 'WHO' is being helped, WHO has been kept safe? Rootcrafters hunted down by the Order? Onceborn POC who are subjugated under Vassal power given to them by the Order but wielded in the Onceborn world? The Legendborn who have no control over their lives? The Lieges who will die early because of their curse?

Have Sel and Bree actually bring up real and nuanced themes to explore in the story instead of petty shit like it was. Make their arguments MEAN something more than just 'I'm worried for your safety/You're smothering me'.

Make their rivalry real, make Bree's character DO something, and make Sel begin to question his fear of himself and the control the Order brings him. THEN they can start to have feelings for each other based on concrete actions and who each other are, not just 'oh no, he's hot'.

[michaelmilligan]

The Jonmartin manifesto no one asked for but needed to get out

So, I've not been in the tma fandom for long yet, having only listened to it for the first time a few months ago. But from browsing the Jonmartin (and teaholding and jmart) tag regularly, it seems to me like most jonmartin shippers fall into one of these two categories:

They would find each other in every universe; or

It's a miracle they even got together in this universe

(Obviously, that's an oversimplification, and people who express one view in one post can easily hold a different view at another time - these are fictional characters we're talking about after all, and headcanons don't need to be consistent and can even contradict each other. This is just the general vibe I got so far.)

Anyway, I wanted to add my own two cents on the topic, because while I understand where both of these views are coming from, I think neither of them is ultimately correct.

(Putting the rest under a read more - be warned that this is NOT a spoiler-free post, so if you haven't finished listening to TMA yet and you want a spoiler-free experience, you probably shouldn't read this.)

So, before we get to my own opinion, let's first look at where the two options I mentioned above come from, shall we?

"They would find each other in every universe"

Obviously, this view is highly romantic - star-crossed lovers, finding each other again and again. It is both a good foundational basis for AUs, and a ray of hope in the face of the tragedy that is the tma finale.

Of course, concerning the finale, this is a rather different take than concerning AUs (since it would mean the very same characters finding each other again in a different world, not fundamentally different characters, shaped by said other world, also finding each other). And maybe when people express this view, they mean more the finale fix-its than AUs, though I suspect that plenty of people mean both.

It's a nice, comforting thought. And don't we all need some comfort after the finale? Yes, we certainly do. (Except for the people who read only hurt without comfort and angst, I guess. You do you, and I'm glad you're having fun, but personally I do desperately need some comfort, lmao.)

Is this view supported by canon though?

Cynical minds would say no, and personally I'm more inclined to agree with them, though as I've said, for me the truth lies outside of those two rigid stances (somewhere in between, I suppose).

I don't see much in canon which points to Jon and Martin falling in love under any circumstances/in any universe, especially considering their... let's say difficult relationships at the start of the show. But of course we must also take into account the specific circumstances in canon (more on that below) and interpretations vary, and I do very much enjoy AUs, so I'm certainly not trying to throw shade if you're on this side of the 'divide'.

Mostly, I think there CAN be other circumstances in which those two get together, outside the canon ones. (I'm writing a canon-divergent jonmartin fic myself, lol.) Let's get into that while we look at the other view, shall we.

"It's a miracle they even got together in this one"

Ah, the Martin-approved stance. One could say 'well, they literally said it in canon' and be done with it. However, that would require us to believe that the opinions of the characters are always true and correct, which. Lmao. We only have to listen to season 2 of tma to know that this is very much not the case.

And even if S5 Martin is not S2 Jon at the height of his paranoia, he's still very much a man shaped by his own life and experiences. I'm sure he would call himself a realist, but he honestly seems more like a pessimist to me. Which is understandable, given his life, and his association with the Lonely, which has often been (in my opinion accurately) compared to depression.

The thing is, Jon did treat Martin horribly in S1, and then he admittedly treated everyone horribly in S2. It was only in the course of S3 that their relationship got more, let's say, equal, with Jon no longer thinking Martin would be 'contributing nothing but delays'. (And then of course we have S4, which I LOVE even though it hurts me deeply. Then again, that's the whole show. And, obviously, S5 my beloved.)

So. Jon seemed to hate Martin in S1, while Martin was arguably already in love with the man. (Arguably. We do know that he acted catty to Basira in S2, so it's reasonable to assume that he started liking him at some point in S1, or even before the show started.) Then a lot of traumatic things happened, and they got together.

This means it must be the traumatic things that made them compatible, right? Just like Martin says in S5?

Well, one could see it that way. Jon certainly changed over the seasons, coming off his high horse and such. (In S5, he arguably gets back on it quite a bit, but then he IS the Eye's specialest little princess in a world that's literally ruled by it. And also he is slowly losing his grip on his own humanity. But I digress.)

And I do think that the trauma channeled a lot of those changes - the first time we see Jon being actually emotionally open (something he still struggles with over all seasons, because people don't just change fundamentally that quickly) is during Prentiss' attack on the Institute. They're in a situation where they might reasonably die (they even expect it, because they don't know that Elias is just rubbing his greedy little paws as he waits for things to get worse before he saves them with the gas).

I do think that moment could have been a big turning point for Jon and Martin, if it hadn't been immediately followed with the discovery of Gertrude's body, and Jon's subsequent descent into paranoia. Jon opened up, and also saw that Martin was rather competent during the attack, which could have led to them becoming closer, respectively having at least something like a normal work relationship.

But then Jon got paranoid and interpreted everything he saw negatively, including Martin's competence, which was twisted in his mind to 'What if he's just been pretending to be incompetent and is actually an evil agent out to kill the archivist'.

(Big sigh.)

Anyway, before I lose myself in the red string as well: Yes, Jon seems to 'mellow' over the seasons, especially with regard to Martin, at the same time that he's going through terribly traumatic events.

But does that mean that it's actually the trauma that's changing him and his relationships? Partly, certainly, but I would argue that trauma doesn't make you nicer or kinder. It might make you realise some things, but that doesn't mean that you can't realise those things in other ways.

And does it means that they couldn't have come together if they had met under different circumstances? Also not necessarily! I would even argue that the specific circumstances they met under were detrimental to Jon's first impression of Martin. And yes, this goes beyond the dog story.

So let's try and dissect their relationship from the start.

A theory of... something like nuance, or whatever

The starting situation

(Yes, I did have to use a Supernatural gif, thank you for asking. No, I will not apologise. <3)

Alright. So let's start with what we actually know about Jon and Martin's first meeting. Obviously, there's the dog story, though as far as I know that's not 'canon' because it wasn't actually in the podcast. I still like it, and think it adds another reason to Jon's behaviour, though I don't necessarily think it's necessary, because Jon already had lots of other reasons to tell himself that Martin wasn't worth his time.

1.1. Jon has issues. More at 11.

First of all, we learn throughout the podcast that Jon doesn't actually have any qualifications to lead an archive. He's probably 29 when the show starts (in 2016, going by the fandom wiki stating that he was born in 1987, which is reasonable given everything we learn about his age).

So, he's 29 and suddenly appointed, after four years of working in one department, to become the head of a completely different department. He does not have a degree that would give him credentials for leading an archive, nor are we told that he has ever even worked in an archive. For all we know, and that he knows, he is woefully underqualified. (This is also, I think, highlighted in S2 when Jon threatens to resign, only to then be baffled by Elias saying that he would be difficult to replace. Elias means something completely different than his skill set as an archivist with a lower case 'a', presumably, but then Jon doesn't know that.)

This means that Jon is in a highly stressful position, because he's trying to do a job he doesn't actually know how to do, while also trying not to let on that he doesn't know how to do it!

It doesn't help that Jon is also terribly scared of what all might be lurking in the shadows (or even in the light), as he himself admits during the Prentiss attack. He is extremely high-strung from day one, basically a wet chihuahua shaking in a slight breeze, while trying to seem like a strong bulldog.

We also know that Jon asked for two people to be his assistants: Tim and Sasha. They both worked in research, and Sasha also briefly worked in artefact storage, making them both qualified to help Jon with following up on statements. But I think more than their qualifications, Jon probably requested them because he knew and got along with them.

Imagine: Your boss tells you that he's promoting you into a position you're not qualified for and which you have no real clue how to do. Wouldn't you rather have people around you who you're already friendly with, and who are likely to cut you some slack if you're not perfect on day one? I know I would!

1.2. Elias is a little shit and I want to kill him with hammers (affectionately)

And then Elias transfers Martin.

I'm going off the dog story again, because again, I like it, and I think it does fit neatly into canon. If this story is to be believed, Elias neither asked nor did he tell Jon that he was giving him another assistant. He apparently simply told Martin 'you work at the archives now, congratulations' and then went back to his office to smile smugly to himself.

This is a VERY bad start for a working relationship, because not only does Martin come in unannounced, this also comes off as Elias not respecting Jon, or potentially even sending someone to report back to Elias (because Martin is the only one who doesn't have an established rapport with Jon).

Jon never verbalises this suspicion, so maybe this is too much interpretation on my part, but in any case it's cause for a lot of resentment on Jon's part, and since he can't exactly let it out on Elias (who is rarely there, anyway), he simply lets it out on Martin.

He finds reasons to do so, of course, insulting his work and all that. It's probably easy, especially in the beginning, because not unlike Jon, Martin doesn't have any qualifications to work in an archive! He worked at the library before, and we know that his degree is made up (which we can only assume Elias knows, considering he can know almost anything).

(I actually find the question on why Elias transferred Martin in the first place extremely interesting, and might get into that in another post. But this one is already too long, lmao.)

1.3. Martin is too nice, aka Jon has even more issues

This is mostly my personal headcanon, though I do feel it fits Jon's character - which is that he doesn't know how to deal with nice people.

Not kind people. Not friendly people. But nice people.

People who do things seemingly out of the mere goodness of their heart. Like bringing their mean boss tea when he never asked them to do that. Like being friendly even in the face of insults. Someone who constantly takes himself back in favour of other people and their opinions.

People like Martin is appearing to be. Appearing, because Martin isn't actually like that. He does have his opinions, and he could probably grumble up a storm in S1 about Jon, but Jon is his BOSS, and so he plays.

Martin also IS genuinely a nice person most of the time (when he's not on a revenge rampage, making his boyfriend murder people). He doesn't have to do nice things for Jon like bring him tea in S2. But he does. Because that's Martin's way of trying to reach out, to show other people that he means no harm (and that he can be useful).

(I also think that Jon's snappish behaviour, where Martin never quite knows what will set the man off, might remind him off his mum, but again I digress. :))

But I think Jon doesn't know how to deal with that, because even when he's not in the height of paranoia, he still suspects that people who are THAT nice (especially when they have no reason to be nice because he's being an arsehole to them) have a secret agenda. This is playing into what I said under 2 (the part that might be too much interpretation on my side lol), because if Jon suspects that Martin is reporting back to Elias, or is at least someone who would not be friendly if he found out that Jon doesn't know what he's doing, then he can't allow himself to relax around him, and he certainly can't allow himself to be lulled into false security (as Jon would think) around him.

Tl;dr on this point: I think Jon is wary of Martin's niceness because he thinks he might be fishing for gossip/anything he can use against Jon. And even if he isn't, Jon thinks he would be likely to use anything he learns against Jon, because they weren't friends to begin with, and Jon's behaviour has made them anything but that.

(We have to remember that this is the guy who says in S2 that he knows what it's like to 'lack the respect of one's peers', aka the kid who got bullied by at least one older kid, and likely had no or very few friends - plus he believes in the supernatural, which doesn't exactly lend itself well to getting academic respect.)

1.4. They were fucked from the start, your honour

Basically what the meme says, but yeah. The they were put in practically guaranteed that Jon would be wary of Martin, and that Martin would be trying extra hard to make friends with him, which in turn would make Jon even more wary/hostile.

And Elias made it worse, either knowingly or by negligence (not telling Jon about transferring Martin).

If we add the whole dog story to it... they were fucked. I do actually wonder if, assuming we take the dog story as canon, Elias actually somehow managed to set that up. Or whether he was at least cackling (sorry, smiling ever so silently, but smugly) in his office as it happened, or whenever he ended up knowing that it happened.

2. Yes, we've had one starting point, but what about second starting point?

As we have established above, the starting situation for Jon and Martin was... not ideal. So, would they have gotten together easily given a different starting point, like in a cute coffee shop AU?

Eh.

It's true that the specific situation they were in made it a lot harder for them to actually communicate and see each other as they are than it had to be. That doesn't mean that a different situation would have made it easy, though.

Their personalities still make it hard, though, as even without the added stress of a new job, Jon is still a little chihuahua shaking in the corner, who tries to make up for it by barking at everyone, and Martin is still the guy trying to approach him with treats and getting his hand bitten.

There are certainly specific situation that could make it easier, especially if Jon isn't scared as hell, and has maybe already learned that not everyone who does something nice for him wants to just pull on his strings. (Yes, I do think that the thing that makes Martin, according to Annabelle, suited for the Web, is the thing that put Jon on edge at the beginning. I don't know if this was intended at all, but it makes me cackle.)

The beauty of fanfic is that we can do whatever the hell we want. But I think the most fun thing an AU author can do is think 'What would have to happen, in this specific scenario, for these two to get over themselves and get together?'

Excursion: Martin, my beloved depressed blorbo who I am certainly not projecting on, haha

Because it IS both of them who need to get over themselves. Of course Jon's issues are the most obvious, and I've certainly expanded on them enough. But Martin also has a problem, and it's that he's constantly hiding his true feelings and opinions, especially anger and fear.

That makes sense, perhaps, in a workplace, though considering he's dealing with a walking, talking worm hive and a stalker boss... Let's just say it probably would have helped Tim, too, if Martin hadn't been so desperate to make everyone be friends again.

Because Martin is always TRYING to make everything better for everyone, but he's actually not helping anyone. Being nice to Jon and bringing him tea doesn't help battle his paranoia. And trying to tell Tim not to be so angry at Jon, and can't they all be friends, doesn't actually help Tim with his anger.

All Martin is essentially doing is making himself small and saying 'let's get along, pretty please' every now and then. I don't know if it would have helped if he had expressed his own fears and anger, and maybe Jon would have misconstrued that as well, too deep in his paranoia already. But at least Tim might have realised that he was not alone in all this. (His biggest problem, as he says in S2, is that he feels that no one has his back, which I think at least partly results from no one expressing the same anger, aka no one validating his feelings.)

Anyway! (Jon voice) Excursion ends.

3. (To the melody of 'What shall we do with the drunken sailor') What shall we do with these total idiots?

So, how ARE these two going to get together, if they're so woefully unequipped to deal with each other?

Well, first we need to give Martin a good helping of self-confidence. Then we need to kind of give Jon the same, since his problem ALSO is that he's unsure of himself, he just tries to make other people small to cover it up, instead of making himself small. (And isn't that a funny thing to do for someone who we know was bullied. To become a bully himself. Oh, the snake, biting its own tail...)

The easy answer is, of course: You can come up with your own version, get creative. <3

The more complex answer is: A lot of stuff, probably. Jon and Martin will certainly need time to get to know each other, and of course it depends on what situation you put them in to start. But there will be misunderstandings, and there will be hurt feelings, and I am going to soak it up all like a particularly slowburn-greedy sponge.

I feel like there are probably five million ways to get them together, and some might be cute and fluffy (if they go to therapy first, I guess, lol) and many will be full of tears. <3 (Jon voice) And I want to see them all on my desk by Friday! So get to it!

In all seriousness though, yeah, I think there's not one right way for them to get together (though canon did it well imo). But it's also a little more complex than we might give it credit to (very much including me).

4. So what now?

I don't know. I'm not your dad. Write a fic. Draw a picture. Put down your own thoughts on the matter. Or take a shower and clean up your room, young Padawan!

(Though actually, if you've read this post from start to finish in one session, what you should probably do is get up and stretch and get some water.)

And above all! And this is imperative.

Have a good day. <3

[mask131]

I have seen someone say, to accentuate the fact a certain book needed a basic knowledge of Greek mythology to fully understand all the references and jokes in there, "You better have read the Percy Jackson novels, else you will be lost".

You guessed it: it bothers me (every time I begin a post like that, you can expect me ranting about something)

I don't know if this was said as a jest or not. If it was said as a sort of joke or as a light-hearted comment, I fully get it and I have nothing to say, because of course that's a funny nod. However I fear this was said in all seriousness. And even if this person was not serious, I have seen a LOT of people treat mythology... out of fictional works. Especially the Riordan novels (a similar thing is happening with Norse mythology where people start using God of War as a reliable source but that's a discourse for another day).

I get how popular and beloved the Percy Jackson novels are. I myself am a big fan of them. It was my butter and jam in middle-school. I never was a Harry Potter fan, but I WAS a Percy Jackson fan. So I get it, I get how it can be... But it doesn't mean these novels should be treated as a source of reliable and certain info on Greek mythology. People seem to forget that these novels are rewriting, reinventions and adaptations of Greek mythology. Back in the days, nobody would have went around claiming Saint Seiya or Ulysses 31 were reliable sources about Greek mythology, and yet today people treat stuff like Blood of Zeus or Wonder Woman Historia as almost primary sources when it comes to handling the Greek gods...

I guess it is due to a change of generations, and a change of point of view as time goes on. Today Greek mythology is treated, handled and accepted more as a source of narrative material, as a host of characters, as a compilation of folktales, rather than an actual culture, or a literary corpus, or a set of beliefs and rites linked to a religion. Probably because people are getting more and more used to Greek mythology being used for entertainment and narrative purpose - Disney's Hercules, God of War, Class of Titans... People don't have their primary contact with the Greek myths through classrooms and school lessons, they have it through movies and animated series and novels. And so for them, Greek mythology becomes "fiction" before "study".

Before, to make the point that you needed to know the basics of Greek mythology, someone would have said "You need to have read at least a Greek mythology encyclopedia". There's a SHIT TON of these around. Today it's just "You need to at least have read a Percy Jackson novel". I mean, again, if it is for humoristic purpose or for a light-hearted comment, okay, it's funny - but if it is serious, than it is as stupid as to say "You need to know about witches and witchcraft... so you need to at least have read the Harry Potter novels".

Again, I don't want to spit on the Percy Jackson novels. I adored them, I still love them, and I think it is great and amazing how it boosted and popularized Greek mythology and made it such a casual topic. But I always thought the series was much more enjoyable when you knew already a bit about Greek mythology BEFORE reading the books, instead of learning things from it. The reason I fell in love with these novels was because I was a HUGE Greek mythology fan as a child and unfortunately as a result the range of media exploring my interests was limited (Mission Odyssey, the classic italian Odyssey movie, The God Beneath the Sea). Until the Percy Jackson came along and I had a blast seeing how they reinterpreted, reinvented and reused things I was already familiar with. That was the fun of it, see their interpretation of mythology.

Because I am sorry, but if you try to learn Greek mythology with the Percy Jackson novels, you will learn a LOT of misinformation. You will learn that Athena can have kids, that Poseidon is one of the coolest Olympians, that Demeter basically has no role whatsoever in anything, that Venus and Aphrodite are one and the same, that the demigods all inherit the powers of their parents like super-heroes... In fact we do see today a lot of the effects the popularity of the Riordan books had (like the overblown and excessive villainization of Zeus). But that's something endless and eternal: as I pointed out, after the OvertlySarcasticProductions video about Dionysos with them having horns as part of his design, EVERYBODY on Tumblr and the friggin' Internet started putting horns on Dionysos. It wasn't just something that spread slowly, it was a real boom and fashion.

I was NOT expecting this rant to go that far, as usual I got carried away X) But here's kind-of my point: people originally brought forward the idea that "There is no "real" canon to Greek mythology because there's tons of conflicting versions and alternate tales" to defend the idea that fictional takes and adaptations could deviate from the dominating versions. It was nice and a needed reminder. Except... people of course used it wrongly and started use it to A) just allow themselves to do anything and everything while B) not bothering to do any research by pointing out how since there's no "canon" and not a set of defined clear-cut legends, they don't have to justify their adaptation choices.

Yes, there is a lot of variations, alternate continuities, rivalizing characterizations and conflicting elements in Greek mythology, as in all and every mythologies, from Norse to Indian. It doesn't mean however that the modern fictional works about Greek mythology have as much importance as the actual original texts of ancient civilizations... I get that you love your Song of Achilles and your Epic the Musical, but it doesn't mean that I won't judge you if you never bothered doing any research about what Greek mythology was about outside of seeing other people adapt it. (And don't even get me started on the so-called "devotees" of the Greek gods who aren't even true neo-pagans and are just fad-following pseudo-poets who bring forward random ideas as facts and literaly have "headcanons" about gods as if they were OCs... Random personal take but I have never seen any dog-loving "devotee" of Hekate ever question or mention how THOUSANDS of dogs were killed in the name of their "patron")

I guess it is because how people have a hard time getting what a "mythology" is about... I mean a lot of people really don't know the difference between a "mythology" and a "religion", and yeah, in mythology the gods are as much figures of worship/centers of cult as they are literary characters and narrative archetypes, so it's this weird in-between... I don't know, this rant literaly leads to nowhere so I'll just stop here and leave you to your own thoughts :p

[ramshacklefey]

For the love of all that is good, can more people please understand the following about media representation?

No single story can represent the full diversity of humanity. Yes, we need more stories about more kinds of people. But a single story can only make so many points at once. There are, in fact, a finite number of characters that can be in a single story. And narrowing it down further,

No single story can fully represent the diversity within a single group. See again: finite numbers of characters and limited number of points a single story can be making. Yes, creators should be careful not to treat a single character as a mouthpiece for an entire demographic. Yes, the more characters from a particular demographic there are in a story, the less likely this is to happen. But also,

You as a reader/viewer need to try to avoid treating individual characters as mouthpieces for entire demographics. This is a problem for everyone, because we are all very used to the idea that there is such a thing as a "default human." If a character is "default human," then we (paradoxically) assume that a) they are a unique individual who doesn't represent the entire category of "default humans" AND b) whatever the story is saying about them, it is saying about all humans everywhere. When a character isn't a "default human," we all tend to assume that they are a representation of only people who are not default in the same way as them. While we need and want more characters who don't fit the "default human" category, we as readers and viewers also need to fight the tendency in ourselves to treat those characters as "default [insert category here]."

Looking at wider trends is more about publishers and distributors than individual storytellers/readers/viewers. If you start a sentence with, "No one wants to tell stories about ..." or "No one from Group A ever wants to hear stories about..." I am going to slap you with a raw fish. Because yes. They do. Yes they fucking do. Not everyone, no. But plenty of them. But individual creators are hamstrung by what publishers and studios are gonna put their money behind. And publishers and studios are generally gonna put their money behind whatever they think the most popular stories will be. Which, because of the previous point, they assume is going to be stories about "default humans."

America especially is in a shitty fucking place when it comes to how many people get to make decisions about which stories get funding. C'mon. We know this. The number of mainstream publishing houses can be counted on one hand. The number of mainstream film studios can (maybe) be counted on two. Despite the wailing of certain groups, these studios and publishers are not, in fact, particularly "woke." And the bigger the budget for a project, the less likely they are to take a risk on a story that doesn't fit their image of what a popular story will be. (Which is why you'll find a lot more diversity of characters in novels than in film. Publishing a novel costs a fraction of the budget of even relatively low-budget films.)

Representation is only a zero-sum game if you only care about stories that become massively popular/are put out by the biggest studios and publishers. Yeah, the Big Guys are only gonna put out a handful of stories every year. So maybe it's true in that corner that every character from Group A means one less character from Group B. But in spite of the absolutely shitty situation we're in with production companies, there is a fuckton of stuff out there that has nothing to do with them. Webnovels, indie comics, small publishing houses, self-publishers, local theater, podcasts, ttrpgs put out by small groups, fan fic! It's out there! You can find it if you want it! It fucking sucks that it's harder to find, it really does. But you can go outside the mainstream and find it. Which brings me to my next point:

The effects of an individual publishing their work online are radically different from those of a major studio or internationally famous author. Look. No matter how popular Online Cool Person is, their audience is fucking tiny. Take two steps outside of whatever circle they're popular in and no one's even heard of them. They may be telling the most beautiful and heart-wrenching story you've ever heard, but in the grand scheme of society? They aren't much different from you and your buddies at the table playing an rpg. For better or for worse. If they fail to tell stories about anyone but "default humans," or they try to include more people and utterly fail... just. Stop reading their work. They aren't affecting public opinion. Which is why:

Not everyone has the same level of obligation when it comes to providing good representation. Everyone does have an obligation to not be a fucking bigot with the way they write characters, but y'know, they have the obligation to not be a fucking bigot in general. But when it comes to the potential harms/benefits of particular stories, there are multiple orders of magnitude between Online Cool Person or even Officially Published Person, and Neil Popular or Jo Ann Megabitch. And lastly:

It's good to find stories about people different from you but people don't have a moral obligation to do so and trying to guilt them into doing so isn't going to get you anywhere.

[everythingblackblack]

Do you have any thoughts/headcanons about Kaito's phobia of fish? It's an interesting character trait considering Kaito's personality and the lack of backstory given to it.

i love the concept of Hakuba being great about it, him canonically being kind to people with irrational fears is wonderful for his relationship with Kaito. Hakuba the human shield against fish! He'd be capable of being subtle about helping Kaito and I can imagine him getting protective if anyone hurts Kaito with it.

How do you think Shinichi and Akako would handle it?

Actually, I do have several thoughts on that.

Have you seen movies like "The Little Mermaid", "PONYO" and "NEMO"?

Well, they are scary movies for Kaito. He must have seen Ponyo and Nemo at some point when he wasn't that aware of his phobia or didn't know what they were about, he definitely has never seen "The Little Mermaid", and the name terrifies him.

I feel like Hakuba would be more proactive in helping him with his phobia and would even encourage him to go to therapy to treat it professionally, because as we know Japan is surrounded by sea, and seafood is their main source of food, I imagine it must be hard for Kaito to have to see fish all the time.

I feel like with Akako, Kaito has a conversation like:

"If witches exist, does that mean mermaids do too?"

"Yes, they do, why? Do you want to see one?"

"Oh, no, not really!"

Akako raises an eyebrow and looks at Kaito, judging him, she knows there's something more to this, so she pressures him to confess and when he tells her, she would definitely tease him a little.

"I'm surprised that the great Kaitou Kid is afraid of something like that."

"Don't make fun of me, Akako!"

"No, calm down, even if I like to tease you, I wouldn't stoop that low, don't worry about the fish, or the mermaids, as long as I'm here, you just have to worry about being cute, I'll take care of the rest."

I like to think that even if she would tease him a little (because that's her personality), she wouldn't really expose him to that, in fact, I see her covering his eyes discreetly so he doesn't see them.

I think that Kaito seeing that Shinichi loves sharks wouldn't tell him, and he would end up finding out until it's too late.

Something like:

"I have tickets to the aquarium!"

Kaito forces himself to smile, even though inside he's screaming. Shinichi looks so happy that he can't bring himself to say anything about it.

When they enter the aquarium, Kaito drags him first to see any non-fish animals. Shinichi starts to get suspicious that something is up, but he ignores it because he thinks Kaito would tell him if it was important.

It's not until they move on to the fish section that he feels something is wrong. Kaito is clinging to him too tightly and has his eyes closed.

"Kaito, are you okay?" "Yeah, yeah, just, you know, I love you and all that." "You're being weird, and not your usual weird self." "Just ignore me, I promise I'm enjoying this." "It doesn't seem like it."

In a moment of bravery Kaito opens his eyes, but it's a grave mistake because he faints. Shinichi takes him to the infirmary and when Kaito wakes up he forces him to tell him what's wrong.

"I'm sorry, you seemed really excited." "No, it's okay, but I'd like you to tell me these things, trust me I don't want to bring you to basically your version of a house of terror." "You know, I don't really mind sharks, I just can't stand fish." "I hope you're being honest, I don't want you to suffer because of me."

[cosmicjoke]

hi, I have a question in mind, do you think Isayama making the entire world hate Eldians made it harder for the audience to view eren’s actions as evil? There is this argument thrown around that the lack of world building outside of Paradis island made it harder to sympathize with the people outside the world because the story kept hammering down that everyone wants the eldians dead thus making it harder for the audience to view erens actions as selfish and instead more understandable?It’s the same argument for other medias like X-men or castlevania where every human is portrayed as unreasonably hateful towards mutants, thus making magneto’s and Dracula’s wrath towards humanity totally warranted. The entire criticism in general is that the media wants you to think that these characters are the bad guys but the circumstances in the story makes it impossible to view them as such. It’s why some people slander the alliance for wanting to stop eren. Do you think this is a valid criticism?

No, not really. The point of the Marley arc isn't so much to make the audience sympathize with Marley, or the rest of the world, but to demonstrate the cyclical pattern of prejudice and hatred, violence and war, and how this cycle perpetuates itself and leads to more of the same. The Eldian Empire perpetuated these things, which in turn led to Marley perpetuating the same, and on and on. Marley's destruction at the hands of Eren is a direct result of their own perpetuation of this cycle. The audience is meant to understand that Marley brought it upon themselves, and I think it's plainly clear that the worldwide hatred of the Eldians is also a direct result of Marley's utilization of them as weapons. Marley becomes the very thing they hate the Eldians for, or what they've convinced themselves they hate the Eldians for. War mongers. The rest of the world viewing Eldians in a negative light is because of Marley's utilization of them as weapons to conquer other nations. The Eldians end up taking the blame for Marley's actions. The rest of the world's prejudice is therefore understandable, because their own nations are being torn apart and taken over through the use of Eldians being turned into Titans. So their anger and hatred is being unfairly focused onto the Eldians, even though it's actually Marley's responsibility. AoT is a story that doesn't shy away from showing human frailties and faults. People often make unfair judgments against others without having the full context, which is one of the core themes of AoT. We see that from the citizens of Paradis, too, even from members of our main cast, casting unfair judgments against others without having the full context of their stories or circumstances, delegating certain groups of people as their enemies, and convincing themselves of their own, moral righteousness in the process. And that of course is how wars often ignite, and is so often the root of prejudice and injustices being committed against others. The Marley arc is meant to demonstrate that in war, both sides always think they're in the right, that both sides always think they're justified, that their grievances against the other justify their actions, even when they very plainly do not. Marley, in particular, the Marleyan government, has convinced itself that its treatment of the Eldians is justified because of the way the Eldian Empire treated them in the past. The fallacy of this lies in the fact that it's generational punishment, blaming people who weren't even born when the Eldian Empire existed, and making them pay for the sins of their ancestors. Marley's own, horrific actions are meant to demonstrate how the Eldians being able to turn into Titans doesn't in itself make them monsters. It's people that can be monsters, or devils. All people. Because it's human nature that is so often monstrous. The way people are, the way violence is such an inherent part of the human condition, the way people constantly pit themselves against one another. This is a point and a theme that's driven home again and again in the story.

But we also see plenty of people from outside of Paradis who are clearly sympathetic and I think that's plenty enough to convey the message that Eren's actions aren't at all justified. It's not the people of the world who are to blame, but the institutions of power and the people who run them which propagate this cycle of death and destruction. The refugees inside Marley are a good example. Yes, we see prejudice against the Eldians from the Eastern forces, but we also see the humanity and kindness of these people through the 104ths interactions with them when they visit Marley for the first time. The way they invite the 104th into their camps and celebrate and dine with them. We also have it driven home to us that Eren's actions aren't justified by Eren himself, numerous times. When Eren is walking around Marley and realizes that none of these people are actually his enemy. That none of them pose any, actual threat to him or Paradis, that none of them are actively seeking the island's destruction. The only country that was actively seeking Paradis' destruction was Marley itself, before Eren orchestrated a world war against the island through his own actions. So while there was a lot of prejudice and hatred toward Eldians in the world, the world in general posed no, actual threat against Paradis. Even Marley didn't pose any, immediate threat against the island, as they had no plans to invade or attack Paradis until, again, Eren intentionally instigated hostilities, along with Zeke.

People that try to claim that because all of the world "hated" the Eldians, and therefore Eren's actions were "justified" also fail to acknowledge that countless Eldians were also murdered in Eren's genocidal attack. They fail to acknowledge how that alone is proof that Eren never cared about the Eldian people. He was just as willing for all of them to die as he was every other group of people that supposedly wanted them dead. We even see his actions lead to the deaths of numerous people from Paradis, with the walls coming down and crushing anyone within range of the falling debris. Countless people from multiple nations all across the world were murdered. People we never saw demonstrate any sort of prejudice against Paradis or the Eldians. All of this should be more than enough to make clear to the audience that Eren's actions are wrong, and were driven not by any sort of justifiable grievance, but by Eren's own, selfish nature and inability to accept the world as it was.

It's a fundamental failure in understanding Eren's character when people think he actually did what he did to protect anyone. The story drives home in numerous ways, and multiple times, how that wasn't ever the case, and that's plain about Eren's character, from his very first appearance, to his last. AoT is one of those stories where you can't just passively engage with it. You have to actually think and use your brain to see what's happening. But then you get people who don't, and then they blame Isayama for "bad writing", when really, what it is is their own laziness or stupidity that's at fault. Because the story doesn't spell things out in the most literal terms possible, they blame it for them not picking up on what's actually there, but which requires work to notice. They blame their lack of reading comprehension of the writing. But it's not the writing. It's their own media illiteracy.

Beyond that, it should just be common sense that genocide isn't ever justifiable. That there can be no situation or circumstance which justifies the murder of entire groups of people. The very fact that Eren murdered countless children, for example, who had no say and no power in the world's actions against or hatred for the Eldians, should be enough to clue people into the fact that the Rumbling wasn't justified and never could be. Once you start killing children, then you lose any moral argument or moral standing for your actions, because children aren't responsible for anything. We see Ramzi's death, and the death of his brother, and it's particularly gruesome, particularly graphic, because it's meant to demonstrate unequivocally the wrongness of Eren's actions. The same with the baby that we see being lifted up by the people who are being pushed to that cliffs edge. We see demonstrated their own goodness in attempting to save the life of this innocent baby, even while all of them meet their horrific ends, and thereby, the true evil of Eren's actions are put into stark relief. None of these people are truly evil or bad, none of these people ever actually did anything wrong to Eren or Paradis, and yet, Eren is snuffing them out without hesitation, without mercy. I don't think it's possible to come away from witnessing these moments in the story and then claim with any, real honesty, that Eren's actions were justified or understandable. Eren knew what he was doing. He knew who he was killing. His interaction with Ramzi earlier in the story is meant to show this to the audience. He was fully aware that his actions were going to lead to Ramzi's horrific death, to the horrific death of an innocent child, and countless other, innocent lives, and he knew it wasn't justified, and he did it anyway. All of Eren's self-loathing comes from this understanding, that what he's going to do has no basis in reason or righteousness. The story makes this clear and explicit. Anyone who claims the Eren's actions were justifiable or understandable is either lying to themselves because they can't bring themselves to admit or accept that Eren was the villain all along (and I think this really has to do with the fact they see a lot of themselves in Eren, and admitting that Eren is a bad person is tantamount to admitting they are, too), or they're really just too stupid to get it, and they need to majorly scale back the level of sophistication in the media they consume.

The themes and messaging of "Attack on Titan" are clear and concise and I think Isayama crafted a genuine masterpiece that's easy to understand, as long as you're being honest with yourself about it. If you're not being honest with yourself, if you're coming at the story with some preconceived notion of right and wrong, or some preconceived agenda, or if you're trying to project onto the story what you think the themes and messaging should be, or if you disagree with the themes and messaging, then you probably aren't going to understand it at all. People that think the message of AoT should have been that oppressed groups should be allowed to take any and all action, including committing genocide, against their oppressors, and that their actions should always be portrayed as justified and righteous, no matter how horrific, and no matter who against, are going to have a problem with AoT. Those people want to view the world in terms of black and white. Good versus evil. They want simple, easy to digest tales of heroics and moral clarity. They want to be told who the good guys are, and who the bad guys are, so they can easily understand who to root for. That's not what AoT is, and it never was. AoT is a story that deals in moral complexities and nuance. It was never going to make it easy for the audience to say who was right and who was wrong, because it's not even about that. It's not about hero's and villains. It's not a superhero comic. It depicts a much more realistic view of the world, and of people, and all the layered contradictions and duality's therein, than what you'll find in most Western media. There are no cartoon villains or hero's in this story. Because it's an examination of the human condition and the repeated cycle of that condition, throughout history. It's an exploration of our own, destructive natures and the ways in which that manifests. It's a story about the tragedies of war, and prejudice and hatred. It's a story that's meant to engender empathy and understanding, that promotes kindness and mercy and compassion, and that asks its audience to listen first before casting judgment or condemning others without first attempting to understand.

So, no, I don't think there's any validity to the criticism you've laid out here. I don't see how AoT could make it any more clear that what Eren did was wrong. The only people who would argue otherwise are those in denial, or those who can't handle works of art that depict morally complex scenarios and themes the way AoT does.

[horrorknife]

i keep seeing people unsure of how to interpret polle and the polle-anya relationship and it’s really pretty simple!

polle is the face to pony express. he’s a capitalistic figure—jimmy makes the comment about being “sexually excited at the sight of cartoon horses” because a) it’s technically workplace harassment and foreshadowing of him raping anya, b) it’s something he says because he knows the psych evals never get looked at, and c) polle’s face is mocking him at literally every corner on the tulpar. it’s pretty clear that working for pony express in any position is a shit job.

anya and the fetus are represented by a pony or by polle/polle amalgams. this has less to do with the widespread idea that jimmy doesn’t see anya as a person and more to do with the fact that he’s hiding behind his guilt and shame because it’s something he can’t make up an excuse for, as well as the fact that the entire situation is born of capitalism. the baby itself is a product of capitalism. if jimmy were not aboard the tulpar and curly hadn’t broken the news about them being fired so early, the assault and pregnancy could have been avoided.

jimmy wholly blames the rape on the loss of his job—anya is the only time in his hallucinations that a character is not represented with their own face. he feels EXTREMELY guilty about daisuke, and this is apparent when jim starts hallucinating the tombstones and the flowers and even daisuke himself. he’s open with himself about this because he believes daisuke’s death can be pinned on swansea instead of himself (even though he is the one truly responsible for it). with anya, jimmy can’t redirect blame. so it’s easier to overwrite her face and presence as the thing he thinks he can blame All Of This On. and to a point, that’s true—capitalism is the antagonist of mouthwashing—but not to the point jimmy wants to believe. he has to take responsibility for the things he did, trapped like a wild animal or no, and he can’t do it even up to the end.

anya is markedly NOT represented by polle in his birthday party hallucination—she’s cheering him on and calling him “our captain”. it’s clear that he valued her (and everyone else’s!) opinion of him and he’s so ashamed to have skewed that. it’s also him living his dream of having what curly has. the reason they’re all kind to him in that scene is because he really does, in the moment, think that what he’s doing/about to do is right.

it also makes sense that he’d break the polle statue; it’s motion activated and it talks, and it’s basically like having a big, speaking, motion activated statue of ronald mcdonald in the mcdonald’s break room. polle is inescapable, he’s everywhere, and jimmy fucking hates what he stands for. he blames everything on everyone else, but most of all, he’s content to put every ounce of blame onto pony express. (this also impacts the way he treats anya—pony express is cutting corners by hiring an unqualified nurse. i don’t agree w how he talks to her, obviously, but i can understand the frustration of not wanting to be treated by someone with no actual certification.) it’s why mouthwashing is so good, it’s why jimmy’s character is so good. mouthwashing is a game about how capitalism affects your humanity!!!! how you can be driven to do crazy things in crazy situations!!!