#don't ask me why they always have to be some level of famous when I write them into AUs just roll with it
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
firstelevens · 1 year ago
Note
fake fic title game!! “this crown ain’t worth much” for whatever pairing/fandom you like! ✨
When The Royal first landed on TV screens, it wasn't supposed to be a hit. The network had aired it as a mid-season replacement, nine episodes of a workplace comedy about the events team at a high-end hotel. Its only buzz came from the big names behind the camera (showrunner Tony Stark, scion of not one but two Hollywood dynasties) and in front of it (Steve Rogers, once a pop star in mid 2000s boyband The Howlies and now an actor with a decent number of critically acclaimed movies under his belt.) Flying under the radar seemed to be the secret to the show's success: its blend of offbeat comedy and heartfelt emotional beats (plus a wave of cancellations at the network) earned it a second season and space to hit its stride.
Critics seem to agree that the cast--rounded out by Natasha Romanoff, James Rhodes, and Scott Lang--never felt fully complete until its two major second season additions: writer's room standout Sam Wilson (playing an efficiency consultant sent in to streamline the team's performance) and Rogers' former bandmate Bucky Barnes (turning his guest appearances as the unmotivated heir to the hotel empire into a series regular spot.) By season three, the show has gone from a star vehicle to a true ensemble piece, and when Steve and Natasha announce their intention to not renew their original contracts for a fourth season, the writer's room is thrown into a tizzy.
Eventually, a plan develops to embrace the chaos of the double departure. Sam and Bucky's characters emerge as the de facto leads of the show, contending with the chaos of the staffing change and the slew of new faces brought in for season four. It goes shockingly smoothly when the cameras are rolling, but as soon as the director calls cut, the energy changes. The pressure of their new roles has spun two years of largely silly bickering into something else entirely, and it's anybody's guess whether the electricity between their two leads will translate into sparks or just send the entire production up in flames.
(Spoiler alert: it might do both.)
14 notes · View notes
mc-lukanette · 4 days ago
Text
Thanks. I should be there in five minutes.
The reply came a few seconds later.
Okay! I'll keep an ear out for you!
Near the end of those five minutes, Luka was still dashing down the sidewalk, mentally cursing himself for daring to almost be late. They didn't have any particular plans and he'd only really said it as a guess that didn't mean much, but he could just imagine Marinette standing by the door with her hearing trained intensely on it.
It would've been cute if he wouldn't have felt bad for it.
He knew it wasn't technically his fault. He'd nearly been recognized and she tended to be his safe place to go to, but then most of the detours he knew of had him running into more risk. Hiding his hair and the lower half of his face apparently weren't enough anymore to stop people from doing a double take at him.
Maybe he'd been in this place for too long on his break, but she was there. He simply didn't want to leave, not if it meant losing the "rock star's safe haven," as he called it in his head.
Footsteps still pounding as he ran, he was within arm's reach of the door when it flew open. Without a word, he slipped inside and Marinette shut it behind him. He let himself breathe, pushing his hood up and pulling his face mask down.
Sighing in relief, he said, “You're a lifesaver, as always,”
She laughed him off. “You don't have to go that far.”
“But I do,” he replied. “You're risking a lot letting me hide here. If anyone finds out you're doing it—”
“Stop.“ She raised a hand, turning her face away from him with a faint blush. “It's really not a big deal.”
He pouted a bit, but let the praise go for the time being. He understood, on some level, that she'd done it before for other famous people she knew (the people he'd have to thank if he ever met them, since it led to him meeting her), but it didn't make it any less special.
Not to him, anyway.
Marinette, strolling across the room and waving a hand at all the seating in the living room, asked without looking back at him, “You want any snacks?”
Any kind of food sounded good after the running he did. “Please. Anything's fine.”
As she left the room, he went and plopped himself down on the recliner, going about removing the hoodie he'd been using to keep himself hidden. He also took off the face mask entirely and set them both neatly on the table.
She returned from the kitchen a moment later, tossing a bag of chips at him and sitting down on the couch with one of her own. She popped it open, then hesitated before asking him, “Do you like soup?”
He nodded impulsively, though he honestly was neutral to it overall. “Why?”
“I was gonna make some later, and I—” She made an unreadable gesture. “—I bought too many ingredients when I was at the store, so there'd be leftovers if you didn't have any.”
Huh. Luka didn't doubt that she could've made a mistake on her mental shopping list, but more of all of her ingredients sounded too odd to be a mistake. He could've sworn as well that she'd told him how much she didn't like leftovers, back when she'd ramble about her creative process and forcing herself to take a break by cooking or baking something everyday.
Unless, of course, Marinette had intentionally prepared to make more because of him, in which case he wasn't lying anymore about liking soup.; it just so happened to have shot up on his list of appealing foods all of a sudden.
“We can't have that,” he said with a grin, opening the chip bag in his hands. “Do you mind me staying that long?”
“Not at all!” she insisted. She dug into her own bag and pulled out a single chip, telling him before she put it in her mouth, “Besides, I want to catch up. Have you come up with any new music?”
“No—” He caught himself, realizing it was the instinctive answer he'd been giving to anyone involved with his rock star life, then corrected to, “Nothing I want out there.”
“Oh.” She leaned back, thoughtful. “I get it. Sometimes I make something just for me without wanting to put it out there. I didn't know it worked the same for music.”
He tried not to be obvious about the hearts in his eyes he was throwing her way. She just got him so easily and he did the same for her. He didn't have that many creative people in his life, but even those he did have saw creativity as something so casual. He cared dearly for his sister's wife, for example, yet knew that the finer nuances of creating things went over her head.
Marinette hummed, somewhat disconcerted. “You're not in any... trouble, are you?” She pouted, twisting a corner of the chip bag to the point it formed wrinkles. “I know how much people think we can just rush the process.”
He smiled, appreciating the concern, and shrugged at her. ”They do want me to get back out there, but I'm not going to force it.”
There was a flicker of what he was fairly sure was disappointment in her eyes when he mentioned touring again. He didn't comment on it, but silently hoped he'd caught it correctly and it wasn't just him.
Reaching into his bag for a few chips, he took one between his lips and tipped his head back, opening his mouth to send the chip fully in from the momentum. He chewed, swallowed, then gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Or maybe I'll just retire.”
“Wha—?” Marinette was so shocked that her tightened grip on the bag audibly crushed a couple of poor chips. “Retire?”
Luka had never said it aloud to anyone before, but he had been thinking about it for a few months now. At first, it was more like a joke to himself, an amusing musing on if he did quit and how much chaos that would've spread across the world from the suddenness of it. Then, it became more serious the more he joked about it, thinking about how free he would be and how much he wouldn't have to wither away like whenever he was forced to make something he genuinely wasn't invested in. He thought it would be easier when he initially started out, that he could just create and wouldn't have to bear witness to parts of himself he didn't like.
In what should've been obvious to him, it hadn't ended up that way. He glanced over to check Marinette's reaction and, rather than any displeasure with the idea, she appeared sad for him.
“I didn't know it was that bad,” she admitted. “I thought you just didn't like people recognizing you in your off time.”
“I don't, but it's everything else too,” he explained. Giving her a reassuring smile, he added, “And you couldn't have known. I've never told anyone else before.”
Her cheeks turned to his favorite shade of pink. She averted her eyes to her chips, taking another couple into her mouth and chewing them as she thought over what he'd said. Letting out a small, puzzled noise in the back of her throat, she finally asked the obvious, “Why haven't you yet? Retired, I mean.”
He'd finished the other chips in his hand by then and set the bag aside to focus fully on her. “I... don't have that many places to go. I live on my own, so it'd be hard to not go out. I'd just get recognized all over again, and my sister's famous and married, so I can't stay with her while I wait for everything to die down.”
As much as he would've liked it to be simple, it wasn't. Also, while he wouldn't have told Marinette as much directly, he wouldn't have wanted to give up on their time together. It might've been a little selfish of him, but—
“What if you stayed with me?” she blurted out, turning her body and leaning onto the arm of the couch to face him.
He opened his mouth, almost instantly saying “yes,” but stopped himself to ask, “...What?”
She pushed against the couch with the hand not holding her bag of chips, straightening herself back up and awkwardly elaborating, “Because—well, you already come here? It's already safe, and if you were okay with it then why not, right? I won't bring anyone here either, so...”
“Wait,” he interrupted because, as fast as his heart was pounding at the opportunity, he wouldn't dare risk holding her back in any way. “I don't want you to stop yourself from bringing someone home just for my sake.”
“Huh?” She blinked at him, as if he'd somehow misunderstood whatever she'd been trying to say. Then, wide-eyed and blushing deeper, she shook her head. “No, it's—I meant... I'm not going to bring anyone anyway. That's why it's alright.”
A beat of silence passed between the both of them. Luka knew from all the little moments when Marinette had spoken about romance that she wasn't aromantic, nor had she ever talked about giving up on love entirely, yet she seemed certain that he wasn't going to end up as a third wheel in her house.
He considered asking, considered multiple possibilities without assuming anything specifically, but she bounced up from the couch before he could get anything out.
“O-oh wow! I should really get started on that soup and, ah—don't worry, you don't have to give me an answer right now!” She turned away swiftly, took a few steps, then paused and looked at the chip bag in her hand. Without glancing back, she tossed the bag towards him and offered, “You can finish that if you want.”
He caught it with both hands and watched her go. After she'd disappeared from his view and into the kitchen, he let his eyes drop to the bag, seeing the chips and the crumbled pieces from when she'd gripped it earlier.
Despite that, his own bag didn't look as appetizing anymore, so he plucked a single, broken chip and slipped it between his lips. His mind was already conjuring scenarios in his head without any effort on his part, imagining what it might be like if he actually lived with her instead of just visiting.
He could still make money with music so long as he could do it without showing his face, thus there wasn't much worry about not being able to pay for his staying there. He was certain that Marinette would give him the guest room, and then they'd end up spending their mornings together. He could find ways to lessen her stress or help out around the house, and he would be there whenever she came home after going out.
To say it was tempting was an understatement. Even the clamor of pots, pans, and the openings of the fridge and cupboards as she shuffled about for her ingredients was like music to his ears.
Swallowing the half chip and finding that it suddenly tasted sweet going down, he thought to himself, No excuse anymore, Couffaine.
32 notes · View notes
captainsophiestark · 6 months ago
Text
Guest Appearance
Dick Grayson x Reader
Tumblr media
Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)
Fandom: DC
Summary: As a PA on a nightly talk show with all kinds of celebrity guests, the job always comes with some level of unexpected chaos. But when Dick Grayson's interview is interrupted by a New York supervillain, the events of the night might reach a whole new level of wild adventure
Word Count: 2,967
Category: Fluff, Humor, maybe a little bit of Angst
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
"Can you believe he's really here?"
"No. How is it possible that he's somehow hotter in person?"
I stifled a laugh behind my hand and turned to look at my coworker, Tara, who had an absolutely shameless grin on her face. I shook my head, but I couldn't stop a similar smile from spreading across my own face, too.
We'd become work besties since we got hired and added to the crew of the same talk show together at the same time. We'd worked with a laundry list of truly incredible guests (and some truly terrible ones), but today was officially the record best for the both of us.
Richard Grayson, the famous, charming philanthropist and eldest son of Bruce Wayne was our guest for today's show. My job was making sure talent knew where to go and that they got there on time, so even better, I'd actually been able to interact with him a bit.
"Was he nice?" asked Tara, keeping her voice low as we watched our host go through the interview as planned. "Please tell me he was nice. I don't think I could handle it if he was an asshole."
"Oh, Tara, he was so sweet. You should've seen the smile he gave me when we were introduced. And he remembered my name, he said thank you specifically to me when I got him to the stage earlier!"
Tara sighed. "I'm in love."
"Honestly? Same."
The two of us fell into comfortable silence as we returned our attention to the shoot before us. The host was asking about some charity work Dick Grayson and his dad had gotten behind recently, and every time the host tried to give him accolades, Dick deflected and turned all the attention back to the volunteers and the people they were trying to help.
I was quite literally melting. Next to me, Tara seemed to be having the same reaction.
"I wish he could come on every week," she muttered, shaking her head. "They're about to wrap this part though, I need to get in position to set up for the game they're gonna play. Continue this after the show?"
"You're on."
She shot me a wink, then headed over to where all the props were resting for the game our host was going to play with Grayson. I turned my attention back to the interview, then frowned. Something weird was going on with the backdrop of the set. The color was changing to an icier white, as if frost was spreading across it. I squinted, trying to get a closer look, when everything around me exploded.
Cold wind swept through the studio as the lights went out. Members of the audience screamed, and I whirled around a moment later to see exactly why. Killer Frost, one of the supervillains who sometimes operated here in New York, was at the top of the audience seats, sending ice and freezing wind through the entire studio.
I shook my head, taking a few steps backwards before I thought better of it. I turned to the main stage where our host, guest, and a few others had been, searching for anybody I could help out of here, only to find it empty. A moment later Tara rushed up to me, a panicked look in her eye.
"Tara! You have to get out of here!" I said, trying to be heard over the increasing commotion as Killer Frost slowly but surely made her way down the stairs and towards the main stage, moving as if she had all the time in the world. "Get anybody you can to follow you, go down the stairs and get the hell out of here as fast as you can! And call somebody for help on your way out!"
Tara nodded, her grip on my forearm still like iron.
"Are you coming with me?"
I glanced over her shoulder at Killer Frost with a grimace, then turned back to Tara and shook my head.
"I want to see if I can help anybody else get out of here, especially Grayson. Talent's supposed to be my responsibility, and it seems like she's probably after him for a ransom or something. Since he's not familiar with the studio, I don't want him getting lost or stuck somewhere if there's something I can do to help."
Tara shook her head, but I started pushing her towards the exit and moving in the opposite direction before she could stop me.
"Go! I'll meet you outside!"
With that, I turned on my heel and ran.
Thankfully, I'd gotten to know this place well enough in the time since I'd started working here that I was able to navigate quickly through the back hallways. Everything back here was deserted now, which hopefully meant that everyone else had already gotten out. I threw open every door I passed anyway, looking for stragglers trying to hide that I might be able to send out the back stairs instead, getting them further out of harm's way.
The temperature in the hallway dropped with every extra second I spent here, and I knew I was running out of time, but I was determined to finish checking this space. Every room so far had been empty, but the last door at the end of the hall was our guest dressing room. Once I cleared it, I could get the hell out of here myself. With one quick glance over my shoulder to make sure Killer Frost hadn't reached this place yet, I threw open the last door on my list.
I froze in the doorway, but not because of a supervillain. Basically the opposite, actually. Before me, in the middle of the room, was Dick Grayson. He was shirtless, but more notably, he was halfway into the very recognizable superhero costume of Nightwing.
We locked eyes, just staring at each other for a few long moments while my brain tried to compute what I was seeing. I blinked, thinking this had to be a prank or an illusion or something, but then the temperature dropped another few degrees and Dick Grayson—Nightwing—started moving.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked as he quickly pulled on the top half of his suit. I just shook my head, trying to get my brain engaged again.
"I... I was checking if anybody was still here, I wanted to make sure you got out the back stairs since Killer Frost is probably here for you... are you seriously Nightwing?"
Dick grimaced as he slipped on a domino mask, giving me all the confirmation I needed.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anybody. But right now, you need to get out of here."
"Right. Right, yeah, you're right."
Dick nodded, crossing the room to gently take my arm and lead me out of it. I turned to the door at the end of the hallway that would lead to the stairs and out of the building, but before I could take so much as a step towards it, a blast of ice exploded against the wall, sealing the door completely shut.
I heard Dick swear under his breath as he yanked me back against his chest, moving me out of harm's way just in time.
"Get in the dressing room and keep your head down," he muttered to me before gently pushing me in that direction. I paused in the doorway to watch as he slowly turned to face Killer Frost, who'd finally caught up to us.
Nightwing shot me a wink and a confident smile before stepping forward, past where I could see his face. I knew I needed to take cover; I couldn't do much against Killer Frost, and neither could Nightwing if he was worried about protecting me. But before I shut the door, I figured there was one last thing I could do to try to help him.
"Dick, take cover back there," I said, faking pushing someone just beyond sight of the doorway from the hallway. "Nightwing's here, he's going to take care of it. It's going to be okay."
I wasn't sure if that would convince Killer Frost, or if Nightwing's secret identity was even something I should be concerned about right now, but I figured it at least couldn't hurt to try to help him out. I chanced one last glance behind me, but couldn't see more than a blinding flash of light as the two supers collided and I shut the door.
I took a deep breath, trying to gather myself. It still didn't seem completely real—it felt like a mistake. Richard Grayson, the famous son of Bruce Wayne, was one of the last people I'd expect to be a vigilante. Yet the proof was pretty irrefutable.
I crossed the room, shakily easing down into the nearest chair. Hopefully Dick, or Nightwing, or whoever the hell he was would be able to beat Killer Frost. If he wasn't, this room would surely be her next stop, and she'd probably be pretty disappointed to just find me, without the billionaire's son she'd been looking for.
The clashing and shouting sounds of fighting continued outside, setting my nerves on edge with every second that passed. Finally, they came to a stop, and that was honestly worse. I perched on the edge of my seat, ready to jump up at a moment's notice, and watched the door like a hawk. I shot halfway to the ceiling when it came flying open, then collapsed back onto the couch when I saw it was just Nightwing.
"You scared the hell out of me," I breathed, putting a hand to my chest. He shot me a grin as he slammed the door shut behind him.
"Sorry about that. I don't have a lot of time to spare, here."
"You... won, right? You beat Killer Frost?"
He nodded before ducking behind a rack of clothes to one side of the room. I could still see his face as he slipped off the domino mask, revealing the kind but non-super guest of the show that I'd met earlier today.
"She's unconscious, and I made sure she was subdued for whichever authorities get here first. But I couldn't stay out there to wait for them, since it might make my identity a little obvious. Especially when they checked this room and found you alone in here."
I huffed a laugh. "Yeah, people might have a few questions about that, my boss included."
He shot me a smile that made me melt, then stepped out from behind the rack of clothes a moment later, his nice suit for the talk show looking as good as when he'd first come in this morning. I frowned.
"What?" he asked. I shook my head, gesturing to his overall appearance.
"You look too put together. You were almost kidnapped by Killer Frost, you got shoved into this room by a vigilante and me... I don't know, I think you're supposed to look a little more rumpled."
He laughed. "You know, that's a good point. Hold on."
He ran his hands through his hair a few times to mess it up, then ripped at his nice white button up shirt until it looked sufficiently messy. Once he'd finished, he turned back to me with a smile, arms out to his sides.
"How's this?"
I smiled. "So good you might need to start worrying about the threat our hair and wardrobe people might pose to your safety when they see you instead of Killer Frost."
"I'll take it," he said, still beaming. A moment later though, the smile melted off his face and he took a step towards me. "Look... I appreciate your help covering my identity with Killer Frost... can I trust you to keep doing that? Nobody knows this secret."
I stared at Dick, one of the nicest guests we'd ever had on this show and apparently secretly the superhero Nightwing, as he came to a stop just a few inches from me. His wide, sparkling blue eyes and messy black hair made my heart melt and race all at the same time. I still didn't really know him, although I now knew something pretty major about him, but nevertheless, I couldn't help feeling that my sense about him—that he was a good, kind person—was right on.
I took a deep breath to give him an answer when the door to the room came flying open. On instinct, I shoved Dick backwards and behind the couch, and stepped forward. My producer, the show's host, and someone I assumed was a detective here for Killer Frost stared back at me.
"What happened?" I demanded, trying to look scared and wary as I shifted slightly backwards towards Dick. "Where is... is she gone?"
Everyone in the room relaxed a little at my question, the detective nodding as Dick stepped up to stand next to me.
"Killer Frost has been neutralized," she said. "What happened to the two of you?"
I glanced at Dick, still making a show of being rattled, and he did the same. I took a deep breath and turned back to the trio before us.
"I ran down here to try to make sure everyone got out, but Killer Frost showed up before Dick and I could make a run for it. She would've..." I paused, letting my gaze go a little unfocused as I swallowed hard, doing my best to sell the fear of the experience, which really wasn't all that hard. "I think we would've been in some serious trouble, but Nightwing showed up in the nick of time. He told us to wait in here while he took care of Killer Frost. Is he... is he okay?"
The three people before us shared a look, before the detective's eyes slid over me and Dick standing beside me. I very intentionally didn't look at him, instead focusing on keeping my eyes wide and worried. After a moment, the detective sighed and shrugged.
"He's not here and Killer Frost is subdued on the floor, so I'd say it's safe to assume he's fine," she said. I sighed, letting my shoulders relax and leaning slightly into Dick. He slumped a little too, putting a hand on my shoulder, like the both of us were incredibly relieved. We sat down on the couch together while the detective made sure we were both alright, and then my producer and the show's host checked in as well. They'd obviously decided not to finish filming today, and Dick was kind enough and thankfully in town long enough that we were able to schedule an alternate filming day.
Once we'd finished going through plans and questions and being checked on, we were told to head outside and go home. Dick and I didn't say much to each other throughout the process, until we stepped outside the building together, the sun shining down on the both of us. I took a deep breath then turned to Dick, only to find him already watching me with a smile.
"Thanks for that," he said. I returned his smile.
"Thanks for saving the day," I replied. "And I know it wasn't really your choice to share... you know... with me, but I promise your secret's safe."
Dick met my eyes, the smile off his face and replaced by a much more serious expression. He took a breath, then slolwy nodded.
"I believe you. Thank you."
The corner of my mouth quirked up, and we just stayed there for a moment together, letting the new reality wash over us. Even though we'd only met today, and neither of us knew the other well, things felt different, and closer, than they had before, now that we'd shared such a wild experience today.
"So... I know tonight, you probably just want to go home and get some breathing room from everything," Dick started, his eyes drifting to the city around us as he spoke. I watched him carefully, one eyebrow raised. "But I was thinking... after I come back for our replacement shoot, maybe I could take you out to dinner once we're done? I at least owe you a drink for everything we just went through together."
I laughed. "You owe me a drink? I'm pretty sure Nightwing is the only reason I'm not a frozen popsicle in that studio right now."
Dick smiled, and I couldn't help mirroring his expression as my heart pounded in my chest.
"But... I'd love to take you up on dinner," I continued, ignoring the rush of blood and nerves in my ears. "As long as you know the first round of drinks is on me."
Dick absolutely beamed back at me.
"Deal. Here, let me get your number and we can coordinate the best place for dinner and drinks."
"Perfect," I said, somehow keeping my hand from shaking as I held out my phone to him and took his in return. We exchanged numbers, then shared another smile as we handed back each other's phones. "Well... I guess I'll see you soon, then?"
"Can't wait." He flashed a grin that made me melt, then took a step closer to me and lowered his voice. "And thanks again for all your help today. I really, really appreciate it."
I nodded. "Likewise. Happy I could help."
He shot me a wink and another smile, then backed away, heading down the street and away from the building that housed our studio. He waved over his head at me as he went.
"See you soon!" he called. I grinned and waved after him.
"See you soon!"
I watched him go until he turned a corner, then finally started making my own way home. I didn't expect to end the day with a date scheduled with Dick (no matter how many times Tara and I had joked about it), but I was certainly happy with the unexpected outcome, despite what it took to get here.
****************
Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen
104 notes · View notes
tenkasato · 1 year ago
Text
Choose Me Again
Hello! Here's the Akashi-centric oneshot I promised for the longest time. It's been sitting in my drafts folder for more than 3 years. So I decided to just upload it, for what it's worth. It's quite long, but I thought it'd be better to post it in one post rather than per chapter. Warning: IT'S A MAMMOTH, but I hope you guys would hold on til the end of it. Without further ado, here it goes...
Tumblr media
The first time he met you was when he went over to his favorite tea shop in the suburbs. It was a small place situated at the corner of the street.
The interior was designed with newspaper clips of its successful endeavours. The photos of famous celebrities in black and white pinned onto cork boards were memoirs of the once high-end tea house. The sole source of light was the dimming bulb by the corner, and the rest was shed by the afternoon sun.
You, like he, were a rare sight.
You wore a wrinkled and faded high school uniform. Your tie was a little crooked. Your long tresses were tousled and gathered into a messy bun. Your lips were pursed, eyebrows knitted in concentration. A lotus crest was embroidered on your blazer, one that he couldn't recognize.
Before he could saunter over to his usual seat, he found himself walking towards you. You looked up the moment he came to view, demeanour cautious and intrigued.
"Hi."
"Hello."
Polite smiles were exchanged.
"I haven't seen you around here.”
He lowered his eyes to the vacant seat in front of you with a silent question.
"Can't say the same to you," you replied with a grin as you gestured for him to sit. "I work back there with the dishes so I don't go out and meet the customers."
He raised his eyebrows and nodded with a low hum. That explained why your sleeves were pushed up to the level of your elbows. You shrugged, unbothered, and returned back to what you were busy with before he interrupted. Sketches of faceless women clad in formal dresses were scattered around the round table. Eraser dusts were everywhere.
“Why do you always come to this place? It’s full of old people and it smells like incense.”
While most of his peers went to KTVs, arcades and malls, he preferred quiet places like these. It was no wonder he caught your eyes. A young man fresh from school in his white blazers looked odd and out of place.
“You’ve been watching?”
You shook your head with a chuckle, the motion letting loose some strands from her bun.
“I like observing people.”
The second time you met, he finally asked your name. And he told you his.
“Akashi Seijuro, hmmm.”
His name rolled on your tongue like candy. Not the excessively sweet one, but the type that leaves a gentle aftertaste in the mouth. He liked hearing his name with your voice.
He waited for your eyes to widen, to pause, to shrink back under his stare. A renowned surname like his seemed to have that kind of effect on others. His family was influential in terms of politics and business. It was a double-edged sword. One that struck fear and respect from his classmates.
But you simply nodded. Perhaps you weren't aware.
That was his notion until you spoke again.
"Must be tough to be under pressure all the time." You spun your pencil with your fingers, the twirls and tumbles mesmerizing him for a bit. "No wonder you frequent this shabby stall for some breathers."
"You've come to quite an interesting conclusion.”
"I'm not wrong, am I?"
He wondered if you were good at reading people because you drew expressions well. Melancholy in a smile so wide. Apprehension hidden behind closed eyes. Ranges of emotion in supposedly expressionless animals. Your hands worked craftily with just a pencil.
How would you draw him?
Curious, he asked you.
“I don't know.”
And he left it at that, despite wanting to ask why. It was hard to understand someone like him that even he couldn't fully comprehend what he truly was. He looked at himself in the mirror everyday. He still had the same face, the same lips and cheeks. But with a look closer, his image would rattle, shift and shatter. It made his left eye throb.
“Do you want to go outside? You don't look so good.”
He peeked across the window to where his car was parked. With a little contemplation, he nodded and texted his chauffeur that he was going to walk home.
~ O ~
When he met you one afternoon in front of the tea shop, you were clutching a ball between you arm and hip looking peeved and embarrassed.
“Do you know how to play?”
A shrug. “Just a little.”
You smiled bashfully.
“Teach me.”
You found an outdoor court beside a nearby middle school. He started by instructing how to dribble and what stance to take. He demonstrated how to shoot, before pointing at the three point line and telling you what it was for. When you understood the basics, he told you to get past him and shoot.
“I’d appreciate it if you told me beforehand that we were playing. I should have brought clothes."
“I don't exactly have your number, Akashi-kun.”
You finally called quits when the sky began to tint orange. Panting, you accused him of lying about being an amateur in basketball. He chuckled, removing his sweaty blazer as he watched you fan at your flushed face. Walking back to the benches to retrieve his phone, he told you to give him your number. You complied albeit excitedly.
It was only after two weeks of practicing that he texted you that he was a basketball team captain.
~ O ~
Akashi Seijuro had never had a crush on anyone.
It wasn't that he didn't want to. He had a fair share of admirers from the student body with his inherent good looks, academic standing, school positions held and family background. He met a few who showed outright interest in him, but what he expected to feel, he didn't.
Like he was trained to, he set his eyes on the sole goal of the family. To excel in all fields. Unfortunately, socializing for the sake of romantic escapades was not covered by his lessons at home.
So when you innocently reached out for his hand that one night, pulling him towards the river bank to show him a stone trick, he felt a zap. It pierced through his chest before expanding into flutters breaking out of his skin. He felt nauseous but it left a pleasant sensation in his gut. Addicting and quite unbecoming.
You kept on talking, bragging about your skill, unknowingly gripping his hand tighter. Mind going blank, he felt across the creases on your palm, the callousness of your fingers. Your hand was cold from the chill of the night. It made him want to bring it inside his hoodie pocket to provide some semblance of warmth.
This was another thing he was never trained for by his father. Confessing to a girl he recently found he liked.
He thought, perhaps it isn't the right time to confess.
~ O ~
Akashi Seijuro never had a diary.
His mom had one. It was pink and adorned with handmade flower crafts and ribbons. It was kept inside her closet where his father would never look. She showed it to him one time, saying that a diary was meant to keep all his deepest secrets and even his flitting daydreams. Her smile was wide, eyes with a twinkle of mischief like she and he were sharing a secret no one was meant to get a whiff of. She said she’d help him choose a notebook when he was old enough.
When he had touched her diary for the first time, it felt heavy. Like his heart that had probably been coated with lead that time.
His mom along with her memories had been buried under white roses, but her secrets, dreams, thoughts—it was kept immortalized in her diary. Why had his father chosen white flowers? His mom loved pink. Why couldn't they let her choose something for herself at least for the last time?
That had been the last time he cried.
He never bought himself a diary even as he grew older. But he now understood the glee of being able to share the things he buried under piles and piles of pretence and grandiosity. To be able to say how much he hated mathematics despite being exceptional in it. To be able to eat three cup noodles in one night. To be able to laugh loudly without worrying about etiquette.
If his mom had been alive, he would be able to tell her that he already had a diary in the form of a you.
“The only reason I was allowed to play basketball was because I could learn to lead people better. Basketball is a strategic sport, after all.”
“But do you like playing?”
“Yes. It was my mom who first taught me.”
“Then you should play for the sake of enjoying yourself. Winning is just secondary to it.”
How simple you made it sound. Yet, it was something he's been yearning to hear from anyone.
“Date me.”
You choked on your cola, unfortunately dirtying the sketch you were working on. He had said it on the whim. Impulsive, and certainly an act that starkly contrasted how he was raised to be. However, it felt right that time. With your hand casually brushing with his, your head leaning against his shoulder, it felt extremely right.
When you're sixteen, you're obliged to think that you can take risks and your actions wouldn't garner grave consequences. At least, that was how most teenagers had it. He didn't think he was to be categorized under 'most teenagers', but as the wind blew past you and went on with its never ending journey, he thought I could be a normal kid once in a while.
Your hand closed around his fingers until they whitened on pressure. He flickered his eyes to you, and with a breathless chuckle, you finally answered.
“Sure.”
~ O ~
“Sei-kun, I’m sorry. I’m leaving.”
And that was the first time he allowed himself to cry again.
~ O ~
He convinced himself that it was out of his or your control. It was like one of those famous, overused lines in the movies where the love was perfect, but the timing just wasn't.
And maybe, that was the case for you and for him.
Was he mad?
No.
Did it hurt?
Akashi Seijuro didn't think he needed to answer that.
But what could a 16-year-old do when his first love leaves because of unavoidable circumstances? His family was powerful. He had money. He had intelligence. However that wasn't nearly enough to magically change your family's mind of moving.
What you had was beautiful. A blissful time of trying things out for the first time with someone who could have potentially been his partner for life. It was like a favorite chapter in a book. Once a page was flipped over, a scene came to a conclusion. You could only now turn one page back to recall the memories and relive them.
27-year-old Akashi Seijuro understood this now. Or rather, he accepted it.
His father was close to retiring, and naturally, the one next in line was him. He was more than ready to bear the responsibility as the new CEO of Akashi Enterprises next year. All that was left was papers and formalities.
He had changed a lot since the day you left. Friendships broken to rubble and restored to full. Priorities set straight. Perceptions changed. The pain in his left eye had subsided close to none. He felt whole again, like a wholer version of himself before he started dissociating in front of his mother’s tombstone.
Maybe you leaving was a good thing, because if you had been there when he had broken down, you would've been caught in a maelstrom. You would've gotten hurt. The him now wouldn't have forgiven the versions of him then.
He fixed it. Not without help of course, but he did.
Hence, when he stepped into the tea shop—not the old, rickety one back home, he was stunned. Maybe it was his reward for holding out.
Or maybe, it was true. What they said in the movies.
There you were, a pencil in your hand and your hair in a bun.
Looking as alluring and enigmatic as ever.
Perhaps, this time, the timing was perfect.
~ O ~
Akashi Seijuro thought that he should feel the tug of hesitation, keeping him from eagerly approaching your hunched form. It was inherent in human nature to avoid pain at all costs. But like he so emphasized from the very beginning, he was not like most people.
With a grace befitting of an heir, he walked towards your table.
It took you a few seconds before noticing the figure in front of you. When you looked up, your eyes widened. When he quirked up his lips, you visibly relaxed.
"Hey, you."
"You look different."
And indeed you did. The baby fat around your face was gone. Your lips were painted deep red, eyes framed by light beige. You sported a long dress that hugged your figure.
You were his first love, and yet you were not.
"I can say the same about you, Akashi-san."
He pretended that the way he was addressed did not sting him, but even so, he raised his brows before taking a seat.
"How have you been?"
He didn't think that between the millions of interweaving lines of time and space, his hand would be able to touch this particular one and meet with you again. For a long time, you had only existed in his memories and dreams. Right now, you breathed the same air as he did, listened to his words as he tried to piece the lost moments together with yours.
You told him your story.
And then, it his turn to tell his story.
He told you of the downward spiral he fell into after you left, not missing how you flinched in your seat. Victory became his primal objective. Acting like he was bred to, he crushed all his rivals and even went as far as discarding camaraderie in the basketball team and demolishing their opponents’ morales. In a bystander’s view, he was most peerless and unreachable during these times. But to the few people who really cared about him, he had been on his way to self-destruct.
“Someone slapped some senses into you, I’m guessing.”
“If you want a summarized version, then yes. Kuroko and the others. You’ve met them a few times before.”
“I remember. Go on. I want the uncut version of the story.”
The smile that graced his lips was foreign—young, boyish and carefree. One that you recognized and reciprocated with your own, familiar one.
~ O ~
Two people who had once been naive and innocent 16-year-olds, spending long afternoons in a traditional tea house downtown.
The same two people who were now jaded and mature 27-year-olds, spending mellow evenings in a sophisticated tea shop in the city.
Soon, the little tea shop had turned into your tiny bubble where you could be themselves again.
It was a haven. It was a home. It was rest.
“How did you know this place?”
Because you could've met in a different place amongst all others, but you chanced upon each other here. In this fated sanctuary.
You dropped two sugar cubes and stirred at your americano before continuing.
“It's barely in the maps, and as far as I’m aware, they aren't fans of advertisements.”
Your nails were cut short like usual. Unmanicured.
“This place is owned by a relative."
“What? Are you telling me your family owns everything in this city?”
Chuckle.
“I don't recall saying that.”
“Not kidding?”
“He’s a cousin, abandoned by my uncle because he was born out of wedlock. When my uncle died, my father looked for him and sent him to school.”
“Then he opened a tea shop?”
“Basically, yes. You’ve never seen him around?”
You hummed contemplatively.
“Does he look like you?”
“Not even a bit.”
You stopped stirring and gently placed the spoon on the napkin. When you raised your gaze, a teasing and enticing smile on your lips, he swore he saw something flash across them. It could've been a trick of light, because after he blinked, it was gone. His heart bursted.
“Then, I haven't noticed him I guess.”
~ O ~
When did it happen?
He looked into the colors of your eyes.
Akashi Seijuro had always been in awe of how your eyes changed as light struck them in different angles and intensities. Wavelengths shifted out and across, dancing like a kaleidoscope enigmatically.
Tonight, you rested contently at the passenger’s seat, idly watching the streetlights that zoomed past them.
When he stopped the car in front of your place, you tilted youra head to bid him a good night.
It gave him a chance to look closely, to pick apart the poems, riddles and odes written in those eyes. There, he saw the same longing, a glimmer of nostalgia and pain that spoke of the same things his did. You thought about him, too—everyday since the day you said farewells under the Sakura tree.
You have never really moved on from him. What elation it gave him to know that he wasn't the only one left hanging in limbo.
He gave in, bared his heart again for the second time and asked for you to be his.
They say miracles happened all the time. You only had to look carefully. He could attest to that, because as he lost sight of you eyes, lips touching in the most revered and gentlest of ways, hearts reuniting, he could say this was his miracle.
~ O ~
When did it happen?
Time blurred by and swept with it the days of each year. Akashi-kun turned into Seijuro-kun which turned into Sei—just as how seasons shifted to take their turns inevitably.
And for a long time, he had forgotten how it felt to have you by his side.
To have you wait for him to send a message of good morning. To know you were worrying about him when the drizzle turned into a downpour. To know you would love every inch of him, the dips, the rough patches, the jagged edges as if every part of him were perfect.
With his hand secured behind your knees, he walked on the path crusted with dried leaves autumn left in its wake. You had an arm wrapped around his shoulders with your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck.
The afternoon sun casted a magenta glow on your light strands of hair. It made the grin on your lips much softer than it looked.
"I better be rewarded for granting your wish, princess."
"Hush, you. You promised to carry me on a piggyback ride when we were younger."
There had been moments like these. Imageries of him and you that he'd frame and keep eternally etched in his heart if he could. Cheeks swelling with magnanimous smiles. Breaths ragged with laughter.
"Sei."
"Hmm?"
"What did you think of me the first time we met?"
A low hum and the lone tea shop downtown came to mind.
"I thought, 'This is the girl I'm going to love for the rest of my life.'"
"Cheesy. Want to know what I thought?"
"What?"
"'This is the man I'm going to marry someday.'"
The reward kiss you gave him after that left the sweetest aftertaste in his lips.
~ O ~
When did it happen?
There had been moments like these, too.
"You're too perfect, Sei.”
“I’m not. Calm down, love. I understand—”
“You do? Look at me and tell me that you really do, Mr. High and Perfect and ‘I-own-everything-even-the-air-you-breathe.’”
Imageries of him and you that he'd rather burn into the cold embers with the ashes to be blown by the gale. He hated to see you hurt, whether it was because of him or not.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
Then you’d make up. Nothing dramatic like begging for forgiveness or giving long winded explanations. You knew one of you were at fault, so you accepted it, took each other's hands and nursed your wounds, promising to do better the next time.
At the end of the day it was never for naught, and the kisses you shared in the aftermath were the most affectionate and most desperate of their kind.
~ O ~
When did it happen?
“Sei, take a look at this sketch. Do you think it looks good?”
A wedding gown. It was easily the most gorgeous one he’s ever seen.
“Do you?”
“I think… Yes. I think I like my design.”
“Then it is. There isn't any standard for what is beautiful and what is not. If you ask me, I’d be willing to put it on on our wedding day. Given that you'll have to wear the tuxedo in my stead.”
“My fiancé is one cheeky man, isn't he.”
~ O ~
When did it happen?
He twirled your hand as you spun around on your feet. Your sense of balance slipped away and you fell, figuratively and literally, towards his welcoming arms. There was no music to match the succeeding taps of your feet in the ground, but he preferred it that way. Your voice was enough music to sway him to submission, his head swimming in ecstasy.
“I shouldn't be allowed to be this happy, Sei.”
“Neither should I, love, but here you are.”
~ O ~
Not everyone was fortunate enough to be given a second chance to redo things like they did, and it felt like things had fallen to fit into that perfect puzzle his mind had conjured up in the past, and everything was perfect. At least, that was how he tried convincing himself with. It was perfect. It was supposed to.
But why wasn't it?
Akashi Seijuro didn't know what was missing, what was amiss, what was slowly devouring the special thing they shared. He ignored it, brushed it off as normal for any relationship. Everyone goes through stagnancy like this, right?
Your hands were cold.
He supposed his was, too.
That night when you had promised to meet him by the park so you could stargaze, he started to feel a gaping hole in his chest. When you still hadn't shown up and chauffeur started to send him messages offering to take him home, he knew that hole was rapidly consuming him.
It was raining, the tiny droplets pelting at his skin and soaking him to the bones. He hadn't bothered to open his umbrella and chose to stay on the soil despite the stains marking his pants. Something white moved in his peripheral vision, and the hole grew wider and deeper.
He thought that maybe he should feel something stab through his heart by the way you hesitated to approach him. But the numbness of being battered under the rain for he didn't know how long (—had it been hours? Weeks? Months? Years?), it had overtaken his emotions, caged them, made him feel nothing even though he was likely snapping.
When did it happen?
When he thought you were about to cry, you smiled instead. It was only then when he noticed that the lingering smile he fell in love, over and over and over again, fell colorless, flat, routine.
And it broke his heart even more because it was a smile that said, "I loved you."
~ O ~
If only he knew.
But what could he have done?
~ O ~
And just like that, things started to change drastically. The previously fragile yet somehow stable hands that kept the house of cards from toppling over gone. The dam broke. The balance was thrown off.
Soon, Akashi Seijuro was no longer left to a standstill but was watching everything fall apart with hands tied behind his back. He had never felt so helpless. Not when his pride and name was being smeared over. Not even when he was losing all his friends. The last time he was gobbled up by incapacitating doubt and crippling fear was when his dying mother had cradled his face in her emancipated hands.
Suddenly, he was a young boy again.
But why? he wanted to cry out.
Did he do something wrong? Said something? Wasn't he enough anymore?
If there had been a reason, even the pettiest and most childish reason, he'd be more accepting. Anything. Anything. Really. Anything.
But there wasn't and there was none and when did it happen, no—HOW did it come to this?
He realized that he could no longer muster up the silly thoughts and excuses of ‘maybe the love was right but the timing wasn't’ anymore.
~ O ~
You were changing, distorting, fading. This vessel of you no longer held the soul that once promised him forever.
If he let this go on, he might lose you.
~ O ~
You didn't know what to expect when he called you during work and asked you to meet him at the tea shop. Not the sophisticated one at the heart of the city. But the old one downtown where it all started.
Hands folded. Eyes downcast. Breathing shallow and little at the edge of erratic.
The place had not changed even a bit since the last time you went here as naive teenagers. Except, now there were different sets of customers and you were two different versions of the past. And maybe, if you had the energy and time to look at the far right corner of the establishment, you'd see the new old-fashioned vase sitting on a miniature table.
There were a million things running in his mind—questions he wanted to throw out like why did you waver, why did you give up on us, why can't you fight for us anymore, why aren't you happy anymore, why, why, why. Instead, he settled for:
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Akashi Seijuro had never been one to sugarcoat things. He got straight to the point. Each and every time. You knew that yet you couldn't help the surprise that permeated your gasp.
“You could've said something.”
He pleaded.
"I didn't want to lose you, Sei."
And you did, too.
It was incredibly selfish. So selfish he felt both euphoria and agony squeeze his head to the point of wanting to throw up. His blood screamed at him to keep on holding on for you, for himself. He was trained to be victorious in every single thing, wasn't he? This shouldn't be any different.
But you weren't a game. You weren't his diary. And you weren't his springtime.
You were someone he loved endlessly and mercilessly.
“This isn't going to work anymore.”
“No, no, no, no—wait, let me try again. I can do it! I can try again for—”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes! Sei, I could never not love you!”
“Tell me, princess.”
“Sei—”
“Are you still in love with me?”
You froze, and his heart broke. He knew you wanted to say yes. He could tell by the way your hands stiffened in his. But you hesitated, looked at him imploringly and begged him not to make you say it out loud.
“I thought so.”
“Please don't let me go. I can’t be without you.”
You eyes, coated with a sheen of desperation and despair, spoke in volumes that threatened to deafen him. Let you go. Let you stay. Let you live. Smother you. His heart was a battlefield—a clash between his feelings and his desires.
If he could, he’d cry, too. Instead, he opened his mouth. “I want you to be happy…”
Gently, he released your hands before gingerly, tenderly wiping away the tears on your face.
“...even if it means I’ll no longer be in the picture. You have to grow without me, and I without you.”
He pressed his forehead against yours as he listened to the muffled cries and empty heaves.
He wished that time could be kinder to him to slow down. To hear his pleas to pause in this moment where you were still his, because once you walked out that door, you would no longer be his while he was still yours.
“Promise me, that if after years your heart still calls for me… promise me you'll be the one to come and look for me. Choose me again.”
~ O ~
What was it that they said about in the movies? No matter how tasteless some of them were, he couldn't deny the realistic accuracy they spun around in their tales with only slight exaggerations.
They said third time's a charm.
And surely it was.
For the sake of being poetic, he had wanted to say the place where it all began was also where it was going to end. In that cheap vintage teashop downtown where they had lived in their own little bubble.
He was glad that wasn't the case.
As you walked with a grace that made his legs grow weak and his heart to quicken, he couldn't think of when you had been this painfully, breathtakingly beautiful.
In a sea of black, your long white dress stood out like the moon in the blanket of black skies.
You spotted him instantly, eye glazed with indecipherable emotion as you flashed him the most surreal smile he’d seen.
Back then when he broke it up with you, he hadn't known if he did the right thing. One made choices to move forward, but the consequences could only be reviewed in retrospect. Regrets and remorse were common, but just as satisfaction and rejoicing were.
You came closer, glanced softly at him, and he swore that both of them heard the words you had told him once upon a time.
"I shouldn't be allowed to be this happy, Sei."
He looked at you longingly during that small slice of time, and all the memories came rushing back to him. He remembered the smile you would give him. You always had such a beautiful smile. He wished he could've seen more of it.
He regarded you fondly, told you he loved you without any spoken words and shook his head before stepping aside.
“No, you deserve this.”
Your groom's hand grasped yours. Smiles were exchanged. Intimate gaze returned. Vows already said even before you reached the altar.
Amidst all the heart-wrenching, searing loss and pain, you found solace. You found forgiveness, and through it, healing. And now that you belonged to someone else, but he wouldn't count this as a loss.
After all, he was able to preserve that smile. He finally learned to let go albeit willingly and happily, and entrusted you to his cousin whom he knew would love you more than he ever did.
And while Akashi Seijuro wasn't a religious man, he sent a silent prayer to the One who made you.
Take care of her for me.
And that's a wrap, everyone! If you made it this far, MUCH THANKS. I remember writing this piece in my room at midnight 3 years ago. This fic is actually inspired by this Filipino song, "Paubaya". It's quite a lovely song sang by a very talented singer and songwriter.
As you've all noticed, this is heavily Akashi-centric. It was written all in his POV, and I made sure to insert some aspects and key memories of his life into it.
To be clear, reader did not cheat on Akashi with his cousin. Reader-chan fell out of love, and to some extent, Akashi did too. It happens. It's a sad reality.
Lastly, can anyone guess who Akashi's cousin is? *wink wink*
Anyhow, thank you once again everyone. I'm elated to have been able to post something again after years. Thank you! ^^
177 notes · View notes
deathsbestgirl · 7 months ago
Note
So Never Again. Just saw this post and the way she looks up at him there is on a level with Mulder’s famous Fallen Angel eyes and his reaction to her? He doesn't melt? He chooses violence and being a dick? Please tell me why.
i LOVE this question because it is so easy to see it from scully's perspective. it's her episode. but you really have to think about mulder's perspective.
for mulder, this seems out of nowhere, and in his mind she was extremely inattentive with his informant on a case he's taking seriously. he doesn't understand what she's really asking or what the problem is, and a big part of that is she doesn't exactly either. it's almost like she's blaming him for the stand still in her life, but at the same time wants to be seen & appreciated (in a way that she understands, can feel, can see). and i don't think she could have figured it out the way she needed to with mulder. she needed the safety of talking to a stranger, someone inconsequential to her life. (like there's no way she could have that "other fathers" conversation with him lol) so ed jerse is the one to give her that. (she does with ed what she can't yet do with mulder. something neither of them are ready for and she isn't brave enough to do yet. and like. idk i just think she needed this! regardless of mulder lol)
like: "this isn't about you. or maybe it is, indirectly. i don't know." the one thing she got right is "i don't know" lol so of course mulder is confused!!
if you place leonard betts first, she's contemplating what she's leaving behind. has she had any impact working on the x files? on mulder? who is going to remember her? what evidence of her life will be left? in that office...it looks like she's had very little effect. (but i do not subscribe to this one.)
if never again is first, which i like better lollll (it makes more sense to me. i understand why people like lb first, it's more clear cut. it puts a reason behind her behavior. but i just don't think it quite fits. scully literally doesn't know what's wrong. if she was already worried about cancer, i think it would come across differently. but she's frustrated & confused and she wants for something she can't admit, express, pinpoint, articulate? idk what word i'm looking for lol) scully's just hit that point in her pattern again, her cycle...it took her four years, and after some rough cases (paper hearts – she couldn't help mulder despite how she tried, el mundo gira – a dead end. and idk, so many of their cases. and she's always wrong, he always does the crazy thing, he's always hurt)...well anyway, at the end he's still asking "all because i didn't get you a desk?" he still isn't quite understanding, until she says it's her life and he almost says "yes but it's become mine." he doesn't say it, they sit in silence, and in leonard betts, he tells her she did a good job & should be proud. all his little jokes like he's trying to make her laugh, to get back to their usual banter. because he wants to make her smile. so he understood at least a little by leonard betts. but they also come to a silent understanding. i just love the way kae talks about it. and i think the end is kind of the explanation for the beginning. the end is the real answer to the whole episode, and what it took to get there...and this post here, kae just understands him and talks about him in a way that i feel. it's exactly what i see in a way i could never articulate. (and she does my favorite thing!!! connects different moments. the characterization is so good.) and she has such a special insight to both of them, different patterns, but to me two sides of the same coin.
and so, either way, at the beginning of never again, he's completely thrown because he doesn't know. this is when their bad verbal communication and personal issues/insecurities/fears take hold. they're both so good at taking too much responsibility.
we're seeing into scully's mind a bit, but we aren't really seeing into his. but he's afraid, he doesn't want her to leave (something he's feared for a long time), he thinks space is the answer to whatever's going on. but he's also kinda needy and he can't just say that. so he calls her and they misunderstand each other again and she makes a date. he isn't trying to be an ass but he's scared & defensive, and he gets like that when she makes him nervous. like whenever she believes (beyond the sea, revelations, all souls, en ami). it feels like that to me. he's afraid, but this time he thinks he's the problem, their work is the problem. and he kinda said the worst thing he could say to her at that moment. "you were just assigned" — he has no idea how she understood that, how it hurts her. (and she's not thinking about how he means it, what he thinks/feels/fears.) and really, it's because she sucks at just saying the thing as much as he does. it takes them a long time to work out their direct communication. their unspoken communication, the way they work on their cases doesn't translate to their personal relationship. as intimate as their partnership is, working through their own issues takes time and it's those things that hinder them moving forward for so long. ya know?
i think @randomfoggytiger talks about it beautifully here — in depth essay on never again. here they touch on mulder's fear/walls & scully's insecurities/needs. it's a journey!! which they talk about here. and i forget what this one was (lol) but i'm sure i saved it for a reason: a little master post. i love the way foggy breaks things down, especially visually. it's something i could never do.
i also reblogged some other never again posts. not completely on topic but it's all connected!! (you can definitely go through my never again tag to see more probably too!)
57 notes · View notes
chemicallady · 10 months ago
Text
I WANNA FEEL LOVE AGAIN
Part 1 ; Part 2 ;
Tumblr media
Couple: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader
Content Warning: I made a little homage to three fanfiction I really love! I leave you to find the references ;)
Taglist: @ada-clarence , @badalmondzzzz , my wifey @starsomens , @raventherockstarhippie @blacksoul-27 , @somewhere-diamond
Summary:  This is just cute. I swear.
But you never promised me to be wiser of better.
Time flies.
Two years passed by so fast that you almost didn't notice. At first, your job was not demanding at all, compared with the rest of the crew. You have to accompaning Noah or any other member of the band to attend the interviews, most of them for radio stations. Taking notes for integrations on their website. Keep an eye on publicize enough any tourdates or merch drop, find sponsor for bigger venues and check at the end of the day if the guys need something for the day after.
You had to spend a lot of your time on the band socials, especially instagram and twitter, which you have always shared credentials with your brother and the rest of the band. You also create their TikTok and take care about the creation of fun contents.
It was way easy before the release of Death of Peace of Mind. After the beginning of 2022, you were on the road more than at home. A lot of famous hosters started to ask for an interview with Noah. All the lights switched on the future promise of rock music when Just Pretend became one of the most used/listened songs on TikTok.
And now, in the middle of the summer of 2023, the band is still rising. More money bring more responsabilities, the necessity of arranged a better shows, bigger interviews, more publicity, more interaction through the socials.
Everyone has to work the double, you included. Speaking with radio manager and small magazine specialized in all metal subgenders was a thing.
But now the band is too huge to stop at this level. And you werent trained enough for all this pressure, but it started to grow on you month after month, tour after tour. You are the guardian of Noah's schedule. You are not charming enough to compete with others PR, but since the crew is more similar to family meeting than a serious ansemble of professionals, you became competitive.
Hard work got big results like the european tour with Bring Me the Horizon. Oli wanted Bad Omens to open for him but you were the one who put all her soul and time on the project. On the papers. Because behing any tour there is a mountain of burocracy, sponsor phone calls and publicity. You had to team up with Matt, Miles and Davis so many times that at some point, that it's like having more than just one older brother.
From june 4th, the last day on tour, you are on vacation. You have nothing to do with music creation or audio/video sound checks. You just need a laptop, a lot of patience every time you scroll your emails, and the fantastic mojito your neighbour Brianna makes. A good reason to work on your balcony, along with the sound of the ocean, is her company. You don't have many friends but she is amazing. She moved from Minnesota after the shutdown, and she is an actress. Small roles, but as she always says, small roles bring bigger ones.
《 and it would have been ever better if my prick boyfriend didn't show up and basically assaulted the casting director》
You have heard this story at least ten times, but it's still amazing how boys can be idiots. 《 Why are you still with him? He's a bomb ready to detonate, Bri》 , you know that your concern will not help her in resonate, but you can't shut up.
《 I can't afford either the apartment or the car and you know that, y/n. Also, he is not that bad when he's sorber.》
《 But he never is! 》 you place the now empty glass on the outdoor table, disappointed in seeing her almost offended expression. It's a fortune that Matt isn't around. He has to deal with Jim at least twice a week. 《 You're my friend, Bri. The only one unrelated to my job..... I can't sleep over this situation anymore. I can help you. Move in with me and Matt, take care of my plant and Lucifurr for me while we are on tour. We don't want you to help with the rent. You just need to tell that dick to fuck off.》
《.... but he drives me to every casting》
《 and he's the reason no one is picking you in a very first place. This relationship is too toxic》
《 y/n I think you're crossing the line.》
《 He's gonna kill you one of these days!》
You both muted for a couple of seconds, the now tense air between the two of you being thick as a wall. Yeah, you cross the line but like Matt, you're no good in resonate with people who don't want any help. And like Matt you can't stand injustice, not at this rate.
But you know that you have to excuse yourself, simply it's hard to find the right words. You are not going to apologise for speaking your mind, but just about the way you did it.
《 y/n? Are you ready?》
A raspy voice catch you off guard. It's already seven??
《 Shit, Noah. I'm outside》, you yell in response, before turning again towards Brianna. She already reached the empty glass and without a word, and she comes back to her apartment. 《 C'mon Brianna. I'm sorry, just-for the fuck sake.》
Noah is standing right next to you when Brianna shut the door loudly.
All you can do is sigh out loud - a bad habit you inherit from the tall man on your side - before bringing your hands to cover your face in frustration.
《 What's going on, here?》 He asks , munching a candy.
《 I don't understand women.》
He gives you a funny look. 《 Damn, that's the real deal, man. Not the chicken/egg question, or what's our purpose on earth.... but why you girls act so weird. 》
《 Shut the fuck up, Noah. Not now.》
Your relationship with Noah also changed drastically in the last two years. It required some time and a ton of patience, but he open up to you and from thenon, you became a sort of confident of him. In return, he is the one you call when things are not going well. It was a bit embarrassing, the first months, but your friendship now is stronger than youve ever immagined. You feel like you can tell everything to Noah without being judged. Sometimes he laughs at you, of course, but he knows when a situation has to be manged seriously.
He cares about you with all his heart.
He doesn't aspect nothing in return, but he is dear to you on a level than only your brother have always been.
And he knows you deeply, that's why it is so easy for him to detect how worried you are.
《 Do you think he beats her? I mean, Steve is a scumbag, but I can't figure him being actually that violent. He is always too high to have some form of coordination.》
Since his arrival - Noah has the keys of the apartment so he can come and go as he pleased, especially when both you and matt are not in town and someone has to take care of Luci- Noah asked you questions on Brianna's situation.
He knows you're concerned and he also can't pretend he is fine with your neighbors yelling at each others on daily basis.
《 I don't know but he is getting more and more jealous. She told me he's sabotaging her auditions, now.》
Noah takes a sip of the iced tea you offer him, before grab your hand on the surface of the counter. 《 Start to call the police on them, when they argue. Maybe you're right. He is not beating her yet. But he could start.》 You nod slowly, thanking him with a soft smile. 《 By the way, do you feel okay? Wanna postpone our date?》
He loves to joke around with you, because he knows how this helps in rising your moral.
You pretend to get offended. 《 I would never, ever decline a date with you. Let me change in a more adequate outfit.》
《 take your time, the limo's driver can wait downstairs.》
You giggle, before leaving him in the kitchen, reaching your room for a quick change. In five minutes you're ready: a ponytail, red joggers and a tank top.
《 Ready to run, pretty boy?》
《 I'm always ready, chicken butt.》
Noah has never told you the real reason why he has taken the work out so seriously, but you're glad he did, because you joined him on his program and honestly, you feel at your top right now. It's not a matter of aesthetics, but you feel healthy. You are less tired at the end of the day, and you can endure the - at least- 15 working hours while Touring. Back at home, it became a habit of the two of you going out for a run daily during the sunsets since Noah is not an early bird and you'd rather work in the morning.
The place you chose is on the street that runs alongside the beach in Malibù. One of reason why you got used to LA is also the precious view of the ocean while the sun sinks in it and paints the sky in gold.
There is a small beach, hidden in the stunning nature of the Pacific Coast, that has become your spot. Every day you reach that beach, stretch a little and then go back to your apartment when usually Noah showers before leaving.
Today is a Saturday and even if you don't have big plans, Noah sometimes takes his chances on a Saturday night. Even God took a day off on Sunday, right?
《 It's the red hair?》
You ear him chuckles while you bend, grabbing the tip of your toes to stretch your back.
《 No red hair as far as I can recall》
《 So... the girl you helped at that dive bar?》 You rise again, bringing your arms to the sky 《The one who broke up with her cheating boyfriend? Or maybe your neighbour? I like her. I remember you told me she was so happy when you sent her our merch.》
Noah pushes you a little, making you loosing your balance while a giggle leaves your lips. 《 You're making me look like a fuckboy!》
《you are a fuckboy, always surrounded by beautiful women. And don't look at me like that! I know you like it that way!》
Noah is young and awesome. You got a crush on him in the beginning of your partnership. It's more than obvious that he has a significant number of choices when he wants to spend a night out.
This used to hurt you a bit, but the feeling of jealousy or envy - you still don't know what it was - disappeared in the moment you realised what you have.
All this girls can have noah for a night or two.
You can have him fully, you can call him in the middle of the night if a guy screws on you and Noah will bring you to buy ice-cream to McDonald's. You two can talk for hours about the absolute nothing or regarding the most difficult life choices.
You can mocking him, make him laugh in the golden light of the dying sun, in this very moment.
And that's more than enough.
Maybe you and Noah are not meant to be lovers, but he is your person and you are his. Like twin Flames, that doesn't matter how far they are.
They always burn bright.
《 I don't know, I was thinking for something casual. Like Netflix and chill.》
Lucifurr jumps off the sofa in the moment he hears Noah entering in your apartment. Your cat totally ignores you and starts to purr to the tall man that interrupts everything to kneel and cuddle the black ball of furr.
Satanic animal...
《 Then you should text the neighbor. She is the sweetest of yours hooks up.》
《 Then I can simply ring the door on my way back.》
《 Call her, Noah. Don't be a prick. The world doesn't revolve around you. Maybe she is planning to go out.》
You can hear him sigh in his annoying way. 《Can I shower here, anyway? I smell bad.》
《 You always smell bad.》
《 Am I???》
You exchange a glaze with him and immidiatly know its time to run. In the moment he leaves Luci alone, he is following you around the house while you yell for help. But matt isn't back yet, so you're on your own. As soon as noah reaches you (very soon, his legs are longer than yours), he huggs you tight, trying to put your head under his armpit.
《 NOAH STOP IS DISGUSTING!》 , you try to defend yourself hitting him on his back and between his legs with small slaps.
《Ei! Low blow! Don't slap my nutts!》
《 Don't sweat on me, you piece of-》
A yell interrupted the both of you, follow by a long cry and some smashed dishes. Noah realise the grip on you and sighs deeply looking at the wall that divides your apartment from Briannas one.
《 Is it always like this?》
《 almost every day, now.》
And there is something that broke in your cracking voice that completely shattered Noahs heart.
《 let's call the cops》, he says with a soft voice, hugging your shoulders. 《 I'll stay. We can watch a movie togheter.》
You look at him in surprise while he is reaching his phone. 《 and your date?》
《 you're my date》 , is the cheeky replay. The both of you smile, and you need a second. Not only because you're worried about brianna, but also because these small situations make you feel.... weird on your feelings towards noah.
You don't want to admit it, but a real date would be all you desire.
....but at what cost?
77 notes · View notes
mousemannation · 1 month ago
Note
Ben has literally liked transphobic posts by Vivek Ramaswamy. People like to uwu him for transphobia but he’s no better than Andrey. Just smarter for keeping it under wraps
DISCLAIMER: this is a long ass post im so sorry anon I kind of used this ask to talk about what I expect from players in general.
as i was writing that post i was like someone is definitely going to send me an anon about something problematic he did. this is no slight on u dear anon but let me explain why i still made the post.
on the most basic level, the post was hyperbolic, I think we all know this. Any sort of definitive statement like that is going to have exceptions. So my first reason to still make the post is that people will generally know to take it with a grain of salt.
The second reason is that I am not looking to sportspeople as beacons of morality. Whether our opinions align can and often does affect my support of them, but my support of them as an athlete is never a blanket support of them as a person. I don't know them and I almost certainly never will; i just like watching them hit a ball.
The third reason, and one that isn't always applicable but I'd say is extra applicable to someone like Ben is that I am willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. I'm a generally forgiving person, which has its pros and cons, but it means im naturally inclined to see the best in people. Ben is young, he's my age actually, and he lives a life that i could never hope to imagine. All these athletes do. Is that an excuse for prejudice? No, but it gives me hope that that prejudice comes from a place of ignorance not hatred.
The last three incidents of player prejudice (at least that I know of) have been Andrey, Paula and now Ben although i have not personally seen proof of this. Two counts of transphobia and one of anti-asian racism. I'm trans and asian (not Chinese, which is worth mentioning since Paula's incident was ostensibly anti-chinese, but is also an act used indiscriminately against all Asians).
Maybe I should expect more, but I'm almost always operating on the basis that a celebrity would hatecrime me, intentionally or not. I'm never really surprised when it comes out that a player did something problematic. And in these specific instances they are prejudices against groups I am a part of (or sort of adjacent to, not that white people know the difference between East Asians and South East Asians lol).
I am still mad at Andrey for his transphobic remarks against Imane because they were rash, uninformed, and very public. But I also don't think he's a terrible person. He's done a lot of things I don't agree with, but I'm not personally totally blanking him from my support, just sort of toning it down.
I was never that mad at Paula for that photo, again, maybe I should have been but to me it never came off as hateful, just ignorant. I mean i don't think she would have let the photo be taken and posted if she'd done it with intentional prejudice. I know the post got deleted but I don't know if she ever officially apologised, I wasn't keeping up, but I do think she should have. To me, that was the action of a sheltered western european white woman who wouldn't recognise intersectionality if you hit her over the head with it.
Now on to the man in question. You say he liked posts by a transphobe. Liking a post can mean many things, and it doesn't always mean unequivocal support. Liking several posts does, admittedly, get a little murkier. But my relationship with celebrities does not and can not account for their private beliefs. If a famous person is a bigot but they never mention it anywhere and there's no way for me to know what am I supposed to do? Sure, for some the absence of word or action against prejudice is bad enough (and this is a totally valid position to take) but I must refer you back to point 2. I'm simply not expecting explicit social justice from professional athletes. Am I positively jubilant when they do engage with it? Of course! But these are people so far removed from regular society. They spend every waking hour either hitting a ball or thinking about hitting a ball. I follow them to watch them hit said ball. (It also feels pertinent to mention that i only speak English and many of these players do not have english as a mother tongue. I can't expect perfect nuanced conversations this way).
So. Ben liked some transphobic posts. Could he be transphobic? Maybe. But also maybe not. Or maybe with a couple conversations he could learn to not be. I can't affect that. What I can do is find him funny and nice enough in videos, and talented at tennis. I can recognise that he is young, and deals with a lot of racism himself, which I'd hope would make him more sympathetic to people experiencing other kinds of prejudice. I can decide to continue to support him. Despite what I said in my last post about him, you do not have to.
TLDR my support for a tennis player is not unequivocal support for them as a person
19 notes · View notes
heartofstanding · 1 month ago
Note
Do you think Isabella of France has always hoped to reconcile with Edward II? Does she consider herself a hero who saved the king?
I'm glad you asked what I think because the reality is that we're never going to know what Isabella of France really thought and felt during her lifetime, even during such a famous and widely discussed event such as the events leading up to Edward II's deposition. Any attempt to answer this draws on speculation and is often filtered through our "lenses" - the narratives we want to tell, our biases, our reactions.
Your second question is is easier to answer so I'll deal with it first. The narratives around Isabella's invasion of England initially depicted her as a saviour, stepping in to save the king, but more importantly, the realm from the corrupt influence and rule of the Despensers. How much Isabella believed in this narrative is unknown. Following Edward's deposition, her dower was restored at an unprecedented and extraordinary 20,000 marks p.a. and, given Isabella's level of influence at the time, it is likely she had some say in the granting of this income. It is possible that Isabella felt this is what she had earned for "saving" the kingdom from the Despensers. Obviously, we don't know what she was really thinking and this is just supposition. Isabella may have viewed her saviour status cynically or doubtfully, while her dower may be more about the fact that she was the de facto ruler of England than her own greed or a reward for seeing off the Despensers.
As to your first question - whether she hoped to reconcile - it's much, much harder to answer.
No one knows what she was hoping for, we can only speculate about her feelings and unfortunately, we're hampered by a limited about of information about Isabella's actions. Some historians have argued that Isabella had given up on her marriage and perhaps even manipulated Edward into sending her as his ambassador to France in 1325, suggesting she was already plotting his downfall then. Traditionally, it has been assumed that Isabella had given up on their marriage when she refused return to Edward while on embassy in France and it has been largely been considered unthinkable that Isabella would countenance a return to Edward as plans developed for what would become the invasion that led to Edward's deposition.
However, and the reason I suspect you sent me this ask, Kathryn Warner has argued that Isabella was willing to return to Edward until quite late in the process. For Warner, a letter Isabella wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury is proof that Isabella wanted to reconcile with Edward and only had issues with the Despensers:
She told him that Hugh Despenser the Younger ‘wished to dishonour us as much as he could’ and that she had hidden her dislike of him for a long time in order to escape danger. She explicitly stated later in the letter that she meant danger to her own life, this being the reason why she did not dare to return to ‘the company of our said lord’, i.e. Edward. Isabella wrote that her inability to return to her husband without putting herself in mortal peril caused her such serious distress that she could write no more of it. The queen also told the archbishop that she wished above all else, after God and the salvation of her soul, to return to Edward’s company and to live and die there, and called her husband ‘our very dear and very sweet lord and friend’ (nostre treschier et tresdouche seignur et amy). There is no real reason to suppose that Isabella was lying, and the description of Edward II as her ‘very dear and very sweet lord and friend’ is most unconventional – the conventional way to refer to one’s husband was merely ‘our very dear lord’ – and speaks to her strong feelings for him.
Warner goes on to claim that assumptions that Isabella was not telling the truth are based on the assumption that Isabella was already having an affair with Roger Mortimer and had chosen him over Edward. I don't think that's an entirely fair assessment and am far more sceptical of the letter.
Firstly, as @shredsandpatches said to me, we should be cautious of taking correspondence arising from highly fraught political situations at face value, particularly when we know that this was not a private communication. Warner claims on her blog that Isabella was "too pious" to lie to the Archbishop of Canterbury but, besides this being something we don't know, the letter was political correspondence - perhaps even a piece of political theatre - that Isabella knew would not remain private or secret. It was not a private conversation, much less anything said during the sacrament of confession, where Isabella would feel to unburden her innermost thoughts.
Secondly, Isabella was an astute and intelligent woman - we know this because she was trusted by Edward to conduct complex diplomatic negotiations with the French king and achieved some success, for example. It would be reasonable to assume that she was aware of and likely employing the "evil counsellors" topos, where criticisms of the king were couched in criticisms of his counsellors rather the king himself. It would also be reasonable to assume that Isabella knew that her behaviour was already transgressive and subversive and so couched her defiance in terms that made it clear that she had been forced to this extreme, but should the problem be fixed, she would return to being an obedient and dutiful wife and queen. It may also mean that where her "unconventional" reference to Edward as her "our very dear and very sweet lord and friend" may well have been deliberately used as a way to downplay her subversive, unwifely behaviour rather than being an accurate indicator of her feelings for Edward.
Thirdly, however Hugh Despenser the Younger had dishonoured Isabella, Edward had, at the very least, let it happen and Isabella very likely knew that (the "evil counsellors" rhetoric makes it possible that Edward had been a more active participant in Isabella's mistreatment than her letter may suggest). We should be suspicious of Isabella's narrative here - that Despenser was the sole problem in her marriage and that she merely wished to return her to dear, sweet husband. It is unlikely she was so stupid to believe Despenser had been puppeteering Edward's actions the entire time and Edward had been unaware of it, nor so spineless to forgive Edward for his part in her "dishonour".
(This is what I mean by lens. Warner's desire to rescue Edward from the charge of being a bad husband, amongst other smears, is apparent when one visits her blog or reads her books. This desire clearly impacts how she reads Isabella's letter as a straightforward revelation of Isabella's true feelings. I don't pretend that I am objective here, either - I dislike the way Warner characterises Isabella and my readings are resistant to her conclusions on Isabella. I don't, however, necessarily believe Isabella had an affair with Roger Mortimer (see here for more) so my interpretation of Isabella's letter is not based off the thought Isabella was already in love with Mortimer.)
Warner also cites an accusation made in the November 1330 parliament where it was claimed that Isabella - in the midst of plans for what would become the invasion of England and Edward's deposition - expressed a desire to return to Edward, despite the fact he had refused to dismiss the Despensers, but was told by Mortimer that "he" (it is unclear whether Mortimer meant himself or Edward) would kill her if she did. Therefore, Isabella was still prepared to return to Edward, in spite of his refusal to meet her one demand, but was prevented by Mortimer. Again, I'm sceptical. The allegation did not surface in a neutral environment but in the same parliament that resulted in Mortimer's execution for treason. It seems likely the accusation was made, in part, to cast Mortimer as the evil counsellor who had the queen astray and thus truly to blame.
Isabella did send Edward gifts and letters after his deposition, which may suggest some lingering fondness - or may, indeed, show Isabella keeping up appearances. In April 1327, Isabella apparently declared she was prepared and willing to see Edward again, only for the council to refuse permission. Again, it's probably good to be sceptical that Isabella was entirely genuine in this declaration. If Isabella was as powerful and influential as generally accepted, it's hard to see why the council's decision would have stopped her if she truly wanted to see Edward again. It may well have been a case of political posturing with Isabella announcing her willingness knowing that the council would safely refuse permission. Thus, Isabella appeared as a dutiful, conventional woman and wife, prepared to return to her husband, without actually having to face him again. On the other hand, this evidence does suggest the situation and Isabella's feelings towards Edward were more complex than traditionally assumed.
A particularly serious factor in Isabella's willingness to return to Edward was the fear of being met with violence. As I mentioned above, the 1330 parliament alleged Isabella wanted to reconcile with Edward in mid-1326 but Mortimer told her that "he" (either himself or Edward) would kill her if he did. Around the same time, Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford and a close ally of Isabella's, was circulating a story that Edward carried a knife in his hose in order to hurt Isabella with and had claimed that even if he had no weapon, he would "crush her with his teeth". The same threat of violence served as justification for the council's refusal to allow Isabella to visit Edward in April 1327. According to the Brut, Edward was confronted with a similar story - that some suspected he wished to strangle Isabella and their eldest son, Edward III - and was upset by the allegation, first denying it and then saying he wished he was dead.
It is extremely difficult to assess how true the story is. Obviously, it can be easily argued that the story was expedient for Isabella and her allies. Her refusal to honour her wedding vows and return to Edward's side was laid her open to claims of subversive behaviour and of perjury. This story, then, gave her a very clear and understandable reason to refuse to return to his side. Orleton and Mortimer were her allies, not unbiased observers, and so it was in their interests to spread the story: it explained Isabella's behaviour and vilified Edward.
On the other hand, it is a story that raises the spectre of domestic violence and should be taken seriously. It isn't totally crazy, either, that Isabella and her allies genuinely feared what Edward to do her should they meet again. She had overseen the executions of the Despensers and played a vital role in his deposition and she had lived through his revenge for the execution of Piers Gaveston. It would be very reasonable if Isabella feared he would treat her as he had treated Thomas, Earl of Lancaster.
We know very, very little about Edward and Isabella's personal relationship, and we know even less about Isabella's state of mind during the years of 1325-1327. It does seem that the marriage was companionable up until the final years and what caused the decline of their relationship is ultimately unknown.
I think it might well have been natural for Isabella to hope for a reconcilement during early proceedings. She had been married to Edward for 17 years and had four children with him. She had been loyal to him. I think that any decision she made would not have been made lightly and it would be natural if she did have doubts about their plans. I think she was politically astute enough that she conducted herself in a way that was designed to depict her as conventionally as possible to disguise her transgressive behaviour. I think, she was intelligent enough to realise that there was a point of no return - that the moment she launched her invasion force, there was no going back. I think - and this is going into highly speculative territory - if she wanted Edward back, it was probably in the sense of wanting things to go back to the way they were before their marriage had started to fracture. I think she may have found the freedom and power she had apart from Edward intoxicating and not wanted to go back. But that's just what I think - I don't make any claims that this definitely happened and I have evidence or Occam's Razor to back me up. This is probably how I would approach it if I ever wrote fiction about Isabella and Edward, but I most likely won't.
13 notes · View notes
fromtenthousandfeet · 2 months ago
Note
A while back, you made a comment--in passing, I think--that you were glad Jimin didn't diminish himself to make way for JK during their military training. I remembered it while I was watching AYS, and it's been haunting me ever since.
In the show, Jimin and JK are on an equal level--in their personal life. But in regards to their solo work, I could see how Jimin "made way" for JK. It occurs to me that he's always understood the BTS pecking order--JK is the Golden Maknae, the center, the most crucial member of the group. It's not that Jimin doesn't value himself, mind you, or have confidence in his musical journey, but he seems to accept that JK comes first. And JK accepts it, too.
He asks about JK's performance and work. JK does not reciprocate.
He is constantly singing JK's songs--even dancing to entertain him. JK does not reciprocate.
Does JK really not like LC? He seems surprised that it is still a hit. Jimin murmurs fondly, "it's a good song." JK says nothing.
Jimin talks about how much he admires "Hate You." He expresses a wish that he could write something like that someday. Again, JK says nothing. I don't think he likes to talk about Jimin as a songwriter.
JK does seem to like SMF, pt2. So that's something.
We see some of the intense musical discussions Jimin referenced with RM in episode 1. How helpful is it when your advice is "you should have done it this way" after the thing is already finished? Especially when your "expert friend" had an opportunity to weigh in before and didn't? Jimin laughs it off, but that is such a dick move on JK's part.
Of course, we don't know what conversations were edited out. We don't know if there was some sort of agreement not to talk about their music or careers or management. Maybe they wanted to focus on the cute and caring and cuddly parts of their relationship--the parts where Jimin sometimes take precedence over JK. Tbh, I can appreciate those parts, too, so maybe I'm just hypersensitive about Jimin and his career.
Why does the whole group seem perfectly fine with Jungkook getting the white glove service in Chapter 2? Have they always been expecting it?
Anon, I only watched the first episode of AYS and half of the second one. I quit after that conversation where JK was talking about recording songs written by others and how he was leaning into his talent and his voice. Did I sum up that conversation correctly? After his comment, Jimin quietly said he likes recording songs written by others, but he also likes writing his own music, too. The whole conversation felt awkward as hell, but also one of the most sincere that I've seen from the show (I've seen lots of snippets).
I wonder if Jungkook felt embarrassed about not writing his own songs? If he was online as much as we think he was, he probably saw comments from fans expressing their disappointment in his song choices. Did he feel ashamed of all the advantages he was given over Jimin (the entire group, actually)? The whole "talent" and "voice" thing felt like a coping mechanism. He was definitely weird about Jimin's music throughout the series. Was he jealous? Of course, he may have said lovely things to Jimin that got edited out, just as you said. The company certainly has an agenda of pushing JK's music over Jimin's. I'd love a breakdown of how many minutes of background music JK got vs. Jimin. Meanwhile, the good cheerleader was singing JK's songs and doing his choreos throughout the series without even a hint of jealousy.
I feel like Jimin and Jungkook look out for each other and take care of each other in certain ways - cooking, complimenting, watching the same entertainment content, teasing each other. I think their friendship eases some of the burdens they're both under as famous idols. Talk about living in a gilded cage! Jungkook comes across as quite immature/childish though. It takes real confidence to be able to compliment others with sincerity. Is JK there yet, or does he harbor some jealousy?
FYI, this moment you included in your list really stood out to me, too:
Jimin talks about how much he admires "Hate You." He expresses a wish that he could write something like that someday. Again, JK says nothing. I don't think he likes to talk about Jimin as a songwriter.
Jimin is in a completely different headspace than JK. He's aiming to be more than just a singer, for sure. His interest in that song wasn't really about it being JK's recording, but about the crafting of the song itself. Keep going Jimin!
I've said this to others in private, but let's remember Jimin has many friends, and those who are in the public eye seem kind. We know he travels with these friends. We know he eats, drinks and goes to events with these friends. He truly seems happy when he's with these people. I trust Jimin has people in his life who match his emotional intelligence and provide him with support.
12 notes · View notes
ca-suffit · 7 months ago
Text
yeah anon I don't want to publish ur specific ask for the reasons u said, but thank u for reminding me of this post. this post from nalyra-dreaming was part of the affirmative action drama and I think a lot of what's in this post got lost out being talked about because of that. so let's talk about it. let's comb thru this so ppl can rly understand nalyra's racism and what they're defending when they want to defend her.
Tumblr media
first off, lol take ur own advice. but anyways. this way of speaking is crazy. this is why this whole group of besties put everyone off as time went on. that's why it's lol when ppl come to me saying nobody likes u, we prefer them. okay?? ur weird and u like being yelled at idk. these ppl read some dumb books and think they work on the show. they reference each other's fanon more than anything else. there's no discussions. they talk AT u. it's a bunch of ppl who want to be seen as smart and popular. that's it lol. "we've been trying to tell them" girl u don't work on the show stfu.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
this bitch is a whole bitch. u act like u have been victimized by a black fan because you had a disagreement. u play up "I tried to listen and I agree too! poor me, THEY don't want to hear anything else but what THEY want to hear :(" and THEN u have the fckn audacity to say shit like why aren't u all listening to BLACK MAN JACOB ANDERSON. why aren't u listening to black fans? why are u here making this post to act like a victim to "mean" black fans who just don't listen to facts and logic and jacob anderson himself. why are u here twisting this shit up to pretend u have empathy for black ppl by stepping over everyone here (who does not have to filter anything for show press) and saying "actually ur all wrong and stupid and ur the REAL racists because u take away jacob and bailey's own voices."
this is a real level of fucking evil racist shit and why I'm spelling this out rly slow rn so u all understand.
Tumblr media
"Louis is not chained to his coffin guys, he could have left, and a fight which shows off power discrepancies within the show story line is not automatically domestic abuse."
u jump thru so many hoops for lestat's defense it has made u dumb as fuck.
where was louis supposed to go? he's black, his family hates him, his husband is a demon spawn who stalks everyone down who tries to leave. who BEAT HIS ASS already at the *thought* that he'd even leave. that's not DV?? he could have left?? how are u like 50 years old and victim blaming like this and then saying u have authority over analyzing these books for the peasants here lol.
Tumblr media
the favorite go to line from this dumb group is "they're monsters" "they're vampires." anne rice was famous in the first place for using iwtv to humanize vampires. I think she used this type of "logic" over time too tho and that's prbly where this comes from. it's a bad excuse tho. we're talking about DV but u say it's not DV and then say "they're all murderers anyway so nothing matters." girl the redemption isn't about vampirism, it's about whiteness. u big fucking dummies who can't talk about race always want to pretend this is about lestat being a vampire and how we're too stupid to understand vampires and monsters. the horror of lestat rn is his whiteness. the horror is the power that gives him as he's the least capable of rational thought in that whole "family" unit. he's ignorant, controlling, and quick to anger. he never tries to fix his ignorance, he makes excuses for all his behavior because he CAN. because society allows him to do that! louis and claudia can't make any mistakes or be forgiven because black ppl are not given that same grace. u can call lestat a monster because on a white man that's still an attractive quality. ppl LUV white serial killers and abusers so much and hype them up like they're galaxy brain heroes. calling a black person a monster is just every day. with no benefit. that's the one u rly believe is the threat and then u shoot to kill.
Tumblr media
she's so dumb omfg. isolation doesn't mean put in an empty room. lestat wove himself into every aspect of louis' life so that louis could not exist without him. yes, on a level, louis was showing off his man, but u see how the "roots" take hold more and more over time. he's living in lestat's house, lestat is now the one driving the car. more and more lestat is telling them what they're doing and becoming critical of what louis will not give up. acting up v loudly when he doesn't get his way (he brings antoinette in when louis isn't "acting right" so he can torture louis at his job so he'll fix himself already, then he "allows" louis to see other people except now I'm gonna overreact about that too, now I've chased claudia off but btw did u know I've always had a big dick and u not being fun for me anymore is why all of this has ever happened??)
Tumblr media
again with the evilness of trying to prove ur shit point by saying "if u disagree with me then u hate black people (jacob anderson) even tho I'm speaking over all black ppl here with this post." ok lestat lol. u are always trying to excuse lestat's actions for being what they are by saying there's a book reason behind it or saying louis or whatever black or brown character is the REAL abuser. do u think abuse has to be intentional to count as abuse? do u rly think lestat's actions are justified when he could have easily explained any of it without doing all that? his response to louis' depression is to do everything I wrote above. u think that's not abuse? u think that's not isolation? "be my companion" but he didn't mean emotionally. u don't think that's maybe the arc lestat is going to have to go thru to be a better partner to louis? what do u think his arc is then, louis just made it all up and soon we won't have to care about race and lestat has been a cool guy this whole time just kidding?? anne rice rly gave u a smooth ass brain.
Tumblr media
I don't even know what this means. u all love to skip over points and just say "okay SWEETIE u just don't understand dark themes and monsters, u won't ever get it." okay U, SWEETIE, ur 50 years old, talk slow for me. I know u can do it. if u want authority then prove u know ur shit. a loud voice by itself doesn't do anything but yell. but this is all mama rice taught u tho. so here we are lol.
"everything is unreliable narration except for lestat who is always telling the truth because his egotistical crazy ass white woman author who wanted to be a white man so badly and wrote in his voice IRL to yell at ppl for real said he's telling the truth" u are all so crazy and racist and then u get big mad when ppl notice how crazy and racist u are lol. this gap between series airing has been annoying af but it's sure exposed ur asses because ur not smart like u think u are. when someone rly shows up and breaks down ur arguments to ur face and that is the sole reason I'm here, u all have nothing to say anymore. so fuck u lol enjoy this well earned fallout.
27 notes · View notes
vro0m · 2 years ago
Note
Ok I have one. Explain to me a very basic, level 1 concept of F1. Like. The most simple way. Everyone should know this but I don't.
Hi Sae 💕 I set out to explain simply a very basic level 1 concept of F1 and ended up writing you an essay, I hope you don't mind. I can't help myself but infodump.
If you ask people what's most important in F1, chances are they'll tell you about the cars, the engines, the aerodynamics, the driver's talent but I'm here to argue that some of the most decisive and/or exciting moments the sport has given us to see were down to : relationships.
You always, always have to do better than your teammate (an unnecessarily long essay by vro0m)
I wanna preface this by saying I'm unfortunately missing a chunk of good examples because although I've been, as most of you know, watching Lewis' entire career from the start I've not yet seen 2016-2018 but it doesn't matter.
Introduction :
As you know, F1 is made of 10 teams, and each team has 2 drivers. It also awards 2 titles per season. One is the World Constructors' Championship, hereby referred to as WCC, that is won by a team, as per the points both of their drivers earned combined. The other one is the World Drivers' Championship, hereby referred to as WDC, which, as the name suggests, is awarded to the driver who's won the most points over the season.
This unique feature creates one of the most complicated networks of relationships in the world of sports, because each team wants the most points aka for both their drivers to do well VS. each driver wants to do better than his teammate. They have to work together to help the team, but they have to work against one another to help themselves.
It's a recipe for angst and drama, and god knows we love it.
It's also very much a key feature of the sport, and you can find examples of it influencing the way events unfold in all eras, although I will focus only on the years I have myself seen.
Teammates, rivalries, and egos :
Take the very famous Multi-21 drama. Mark Webber joins the young Red Bull Racing team in 2007. His teammate is David Coulthard, a veteran who's soon to retire. Webber was a midfield driver, who got his hands on a new, midfield team seat and must have thought he was set for life. Who knows, the team might even get better? But in 2009 the stars align and shine not on him but on young, golden-haired Sebastian Vettel, his new teammate, who ran into him once before in 2007 during his first season, after what Webber called him "a kid" and blamed his lack of experience.
Indeed Sebastian is a decade younger, brazen and moving through the ranks about as fast as the rocketship RBR has suddenly managed to put together. It's his third year in F1, against Webber's eighth, and he finishes 2nd in the WDC, not one, but two ranks ahead of him.
In 2010, they collide again during the Turkish GP, while Webber is in the lead and Vettel tries to overtake him, sparking controversy over the team's management of the drivers. Webber finished 3rd and Seb had to retire from the race. But it didn't matter in the end, because that year, he won his first WDC, and RBR won their first WCC. And then again in 2011. And then again in 2012. The blond kid turns out to be the golden goose.
And Webber is pissed. Because as a driver, when your team puts together a winning car, you don't have a good excuse for not winning the title anymore. All there is to it is that he's not as good as his teammate, and that's the worst thing a driver can be in F1. You always, always have to do better than your teammate. Even when your team is last. Why? Because you're in the same car. Your teammate is the gauge of your actual driving skills. If you end up behind another team's driver, you can always say his car was better. There's no hiding your shortcomings when it's your teammate. Even less so when the spotlights are shining on you.
So what does he do? Work his ass off? Train? Study the car better? No. He blames management. Right from 2010, as soon as he realised who he was up against, even though he was leading for most of the season, he claims RBR is giving Seb the preferential treatment.
Team principals :
See, that's the third angle of that love/hate triangle. Driver-driver-team principal.
If you're a team principal, your drivers are a constant headache because chances are they fucking hate each other. Might or might not be okay off track, but as soon as they sit their asses in the cars, they most probably hate each other. And the more your team wins, the more they hate each other! Backmarker teams usually have rather minimal internal drama because what are you fighting about? P19? But when you start winning... boy oh boy.
Because that's the whole point, right? You're more or less happy to be a team player when there's not much on the line for you (although as stated earlier, you still wanna finish ahead of your teammate). But when you're in a winning car??? That might be your only chance to win a WDC in your whole life. Better seize it. Better fucking win. Better run your teammate off the track as you do it because he now also has a winning car.
Back to the team principal. You don't care which one of your drivers finishes first, as long as your team finishes first. You know what doesn't help teams finish first? Drivers crashing into each other while racing for the win, like Webber and Vettel in 2010.
Enter team orders.
Team orders... or not :
Team orders are exactly what they sound like : the team is ordering their drivers to act a certain way, whether they like it or not, because the team is looking out for the team and the drivers are looking out for themselves. It's the team being a stern parent and getting a grip on its rowdy children. No more games. Now you sit down and obey. Now you're also looking out for the team. After all, we're paying you.
Team orders are controversial, because nowadays when a team is good, a team is usually dominating. Hence there's no real racing at the front, the dominating team's drivers finish first and second most of the time. So if you don't let them race, and they have no real competition, then there's really nothing to watch, and it gets boring. Team orders are also controversial because it doesn't give the other driver a chance.
That same year, Lewis Hamilton joins a then "best of the rest" team. Upper midfield, if you will. Lewis and his new teammate, Nico Rosberg, are childhood karting friends who are finally living their shared dream of being F1 teammates. And Mercedes takes a different path. A risky path. They decide that their drivers can race each other. They claim it pushes them to do better. Rivalries drive people, right? As much as your teammate is a gauge, he's a benchmark. You always, always have to do better than your teammate.
But you don't give a shit, you're a team principal. Doesn't matter in which order your cars arrive. As far as you're concerned, your cars are first, out of all the other teams' cars. So you give team orders. You protect your 1-2 finish. Better believe Horner was fucking pissed when his drivers crashed in 2010.
(Now, not always. Not all the teams. There was a time Mercedes let their drivers race for real, for real. We'll get to it.)
RBR tried it the stern parent way. It doesn't always work though. Malaysia 2013. Mark Webber is leading the race. Sebastian Vettel is second. They have about 10 seconds on the Mercedes, there's no threat on the horizon. "Multi-21," they are told. That's team orders for you guys are finishing in that order. That's stern parent for fall in line and bring home the 1-2. Webber is obedient, of course, he's in the lead. His goal aligns with the team's goal. But Seb is a brat, and his goal is not P2. The tensions have been piling up for several years now. While his elder relaxes in the lead, reassured by the team orders, Seb doubles down, attacks, and overtakes him for the lead. Fuck your team orders. Fuck Webber. Although he claims the relationship didn't impact his decision, Webber quits F1 at the end of the season.
The team is actually doing really well, finishing 2nd in the WCC. Lewis finishes 4th, Nico 6th. The challenge is set. And in 2014, new regulations, new cars, the racing gods smile down on Mercedes like they did RBR in 2010, and they get a fucking rocketship for the next eight years. We're in a dominating situation, mostly. They had some competition, but most of the fighting was, in the end, infighting. It's the brocedes era. The most brilliant example of the complexities of F1 team relationships.
At first, it's exhilarating, racing each other at the front. But it's like Icarus and the sun, you cannot lose sight of the goal. Because you can't win and have a friend. From using engine modes they weren't supposed to use to try to beat each other, to controversial pole positions that might or might not have been won by cheating, Lewis ends up calling an end to their friendship only a third of the way through their second season together. And then, it's Mercedes' version of the 2010 RBR drama : Nico collides with Lewis, costing the team the 1-2. Turns out all the F1 roads lead to drama.
Lewis wins in 2014. Mercedes wins in 2014. Lewis wins in 2015. Mercedes wins in 2015. Nico wins in 2016. Mercedes wins in 2016. But Nico is so frayed by the rivalry, he quits. Just like Webber.
Now what? Mercedes tried it the other way and they got the same results RBR did. Many wins, and one driver short.
Toto Wolff hires Valtteri Bottas. And Bottas is the final example of F1 relationships because he's the sacrificial lamb on the altar of Lewis' career. It's the last concept we'll talk about today : first and second drivers.
First and second drivers :
See the last, and arguably most common, solution to the thorny team VS. teammate problem is to have, more or less explicitly, but mostly less, a first and a second driver. Which means, as a team principal, your order of priorities goes team > driver 1 > driver 2. It simplifies things for you because you don't have to juggle your drivers, favouring one over the other and then the other over the one, to keep them both happy and obedient and not crashing into each other, like Mercedes had to at some point to try to tame the intra-team war the Lewis-Nico situation quickly evolved into. They thought they had a spark, they ended up with a forest fire.
But does it, really, simplify things? No. Because you always, always have to do better than your teammate. No driver is in it for the team. They're all in it for themselves. They put up with the team because they have to. If the team doesn't support them, well... Why would they support the team? And that's why they end up ignoring team orders. See, although Webber did it (as long as he was in the lead, anyway) most drivers will not ever admit to being a second driver. Think Perez pretending RBR supports his fight for the title. Why? Well my friend, because you always, always have to do better than your teammate. They will never admit that the whole team decided that their teammate is the one they should back, at their own cost.
And that's just another source of resentment, right? They hate the team for not backing them up, and they hate their teammate because he's better. On top of it, they can't vent openly about it because it would be admitting that they're the second choice. So amp up team radio drama and internal problems shushed behind closed doors.
Now that's not what Valtteri did, actually, surprisingly. Valtteri thought he had a chance, but he didn't. First of all because Lewis is practically untouchable as I mentioned in another essay, but also because his seat was built on the ashes of Nico's. There was no way they were letting the situation get that out of hand again. Enough with the permissive parenting. Turns out Mercedes is not the fun dad after all.
Valtteri is good. But Lewis is great. Valtteri doesn't have the kind of record sheet Lewis does. Choosing a first and a second driver is not so much a thought-through decision than common sense. Mercedes' management most probably didn't sit down at a table and write it down. It just... was. Valtteri never got close to winning the title. And I know I've said it before but it's truly a wonder he didn't start hating Lewis for it. For being the second driver. Oh it did damage, don't get me wrong, but most drivers externalise such things rather than internalise them like he did. But eventually you can only sacrifice yourself for so long. Again, none of them are in it for the team. Valtteri was a perfect second driver, he obeyed, he didn't create drama, and he pushed himself to the point of exhaustion trying to catch up to Lewis to beat him the right way. Some people might argue he's not selfish enough for F1. I'll argue at least he's a decent human being. It might even have worked with a different teammate, but it was Lewis.
So he left. Now he's not stepping on podiums anymore but he is better than his teammate. And you always, always have to do better than your teammate.
193 notes · View notes
correctproseka · 8 months ago
Note
Ok but- and I am saying this with respect for your point of view bc I think you are correct on a wider societal level- I keep seeing this argument of 'There is more m/m fanfic therefore this fandom is lesbiphobic and misogynistic' and it has bothered me for a long time. As a queer girl myself, asexual and somwehere on the aro spectrum, who has many wlw ships and enjoys looking at art for them... I don't enjoy reading wlw or straight fics bc I subconsciously project myself into the relationships too much (this is also why i generally avoid reading straight romance books lol). When I read mlm fic, there's a degree of separation from me that means I can enjoy it without getting anxious about imagining myself in that position.
I'm not trying to be like 'oh woe is me i cant read yuri', im just explaining my own reasons, and trying to get across that other people have their own reasons for what they enjoy- ranging from long winded explanations like mine to 'idk I'm attracted to guys and I like writing about them'. People have preferences, and that comes across in most fandoms, even in heavily female casts like prsk. Like I mentioned, lack of wlw content IS an issue.... when it comes to mainstream media. But when it comes to fanfic... the majority of writers are queer, many are women, hell, some of the most prolific writers of mlm fic I know are lesbians. People have their own reasons for writing what they like, and they do it for FREE. I think it's silly to say a fandom is misogynistic when most of these fandoms are full of queer female writers writing what they want to write.
And again I say this with respect because I do see where you're coming from- instead of saying 'write less mlm', because absolutely one will listen to that.... say 'write more wlw'. Write what you want to see in the world! More fics are always a good thing!! And if you don't want to read about guys, that's what the ao3 filters are for lol.
If you actually read all this, thank you, I really appreciate it. Sorry for yapping in your ask box LOL I just wanted to express my opinion on this topic bc it's something that I care about a lot. Also, like I said, while I don't read fic for it I still love wlw ships so..... ANHANE YURI FOREVER 🌈🌈🌈🌈
See, the thing is, i agree with you, but is that really the only reason for A LOT of people?
What im advocating is not for people to write less mlm, is for they to look at themselves and wonder why they like it more, i know a lot of people who claim to like the boys more for this reason or that, then turn around and act completely misogynistic 5 seconds later, some of them in this fandom, even.
Im just saying that in a fandom with way more girls than boys, it makes not much sense how much more content of the boys there is.
The ao3 filters exist, yes, but they dont stop me from having barely any content even on bigger wlw shipps, from rereading the same fics over and over again because that's all I have for days/weeks, months even on the leoni/mmj side of fandom.
Sincerely, I have myself over 50 prsk fics, only one includes mlm and that one is a multi, focused mainly on platonic ships, and is still somehow my most famous fic.
I see your point, really, and I agree with it, but it only comes so far in a fandom like prsk where there's way more girls, or Alien Stage, that my friend got me into and the girls have been canon for so long but the boys have nearly always been more famous, even before they became "canon". As a wlw enjoyer its tiring to see this over and over again in every fandom im in, you know?
Plus, its not just not writing girls, its how the fandom ACTS with them. Saki as just a fodder for Tsukasa angst, Honami might as well not even exist, Mizuki themselves exist only to be a friend to Rui to a lot of people, An and Kohane? They're only backgrounds on Akitouya, that is when An doesn't get in between the ship, of course. Emu can't even be shipped with one of the boys, because she's a child obviously, but she can be shipped with Nene, just leave her to the side its alright.
Its a lot of double standards, and not only "not writing fics", the fics are just a quick way of showing what I mean.
23 notes · View notes
bokutosmochi · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
UNDENIABLY YOURS ♡ KOZUME KENMA
kozume kenma x gn!reader
"two orders of ice cream bites for kozume kenma and @nyaaaaanma please!"
ingredients? kenma did not approve of making your relationship public, but he wasn't going to deny you.
what's it? fluff
allergen warnings? a fan is rude to you for a short while
sugar level? 1k
regulars? @tokyometronetwork @tahonet
parlor's note? i think this is my first time writing a one shot/drabble for kenma and i found it really fun writing for him. this is also such a cute concept/plot, i hope you all enjoy it!
bon appetit!
Tumblr media
"you know it's not like that. of course you're important to me, but they don't have to know every detail of my life." his voice was as calm as ever. this was the reason why you didn't get into arguments often; the both of you are able to keep calm and avoid saying things that you don't even mean. that doesn't mean arguments never happen though.
"people knowing we're together isn't every detail of your life though. it'd just be nice if your fans knew you're in a relationship so they would stop trying to get with you."
he stared at you blankly after that. "do you really think they would stop when they find out that i'm in a relationship? it doesn't even matter. i don't respond to their dms anyway."
you knew he had a point. knowing about people already being in relationships never stopped certain people from going after someone they yearned for. this happens especially to public figures who a wave of strangers sometimes treats like mere objects that solely exists for their entertainment. but still, was it so bad for kenma to let his viewers know that you were together? or that he was in a relationship?
sensing your unhappiness, your boyfriend stands up from where he was sat on the loveseat and grabbed his wallet, reaching for your hand. he knew just the thing to cheer you up; it was something you indulged in whenever you had a bad day, or an exceptionally good day where you thought you deserved a special treat. it was something that was always kept in your freezer for emergencies. it was something that you could count on as emotional support for whenever you needed it.
"c'mon, let's go get some ice cream."
you went into your shared bedroom to chance for a few minutes; you tried to dress as quick as possible, excited by the idea of ice cream before the two of you hailed a taxi cab to get to the nearest ice cream parlor.
the both of you said a quick thanks to the server who laid your paper bowls of ice cream in front of you, then began to dig in.
the parlor had a few limited edition flavors, brought on by valentine's season so that was what the both of you bought instead of your usual orders -- your favorite flavors. you couldn't help but taste a spoon or two of what the other had bought, curious about the taste of tiramiss-u and berry much in love.
you were indulging in the taste of kenma's before a stranger came up to your table. judging by his wide smile and equally wide, in-awe eyes, he was a fan of your boyfriend.
and you weren't wrong, "oh my god! are you kodzuken? i'm such a big fan of you. you really helped me out during the pandemic. i was sooo bored." he gushed out.
kenma made a face, somewhere between a grimace and a grin -- it was an awkward smile that he would unknowingly flash whenever he was uncomfortable, like how he was right now. he wasn't a people person, and it's clear that being a famous youtuber, unfortunately, did not change that. and because of how the fan took him by surprise, he wasn't able to gaslight the fan into thinking he wasn't kodzuken like he would do in most situations -- how he was able to convince his fans that he wasn't the public figure when his two toned hair was so recognizable, you did not know.
"thanks," he said through his teeth. "do you want an autograph or something?"
an autograph, right? that's usually what fans want. that's what they always ask for whenever they come up to me. the sooner i can give him one, the sooner i can get back on our date. you swore you could hear kenma's thoughts, being his partner for so long, you were bound to have an idea of how his intelligent mind works.
"sure!" the guy exclaimed, pulling out a notebook and a marker from his backpack. "at first i was thinking of ditching school, but i'm so glad i didn't!"
"don't ditch school. it's not as cool as movies make it seem." was all your boyfriend responded with while he signed his signature on the notebook. "here, have a nice day." it was an attempt to have the fan walk away from the table, kenma wanted nothing more than to converse with you again, but the teenage boy had other ideas.
"are you his partner?" he asked, pointing at you. it made you uncomfortable, to say the least. not only was there a finger shoved in your direction, but you also knew where your boyfriend stood when it came to making your relationship public -- he was against it.
much to your surprise though, he gently shoved the boy's hand down so it wouldn't be rudely pointed at you anymore and spoke "yeah they are and we're on a date, so please." he made it seem like he wanted the boy to leave you alone - and he did - but instead, he was the one to stand up, beckoning you to do the same and leave, bowls of half-melted ice cream in hand.
"i'm sorry about that, that was rude of him." he apologized to you before looking away in the other direction. "that's the reason why i didn't want to make our relationship public. people trying to treat me as an object because i'm famous and stuff is one thing, but it's a while 'nother thing when they do it to you."
you smiled softly to yourself, looping your arm around his and resting your head on his bicep, "i love you, ken."
you heard a small i love you too breathe from his lips before you realized something.
"if you didn't want to make our relationship public, then why did you tell the guy that we were dating?"
he stopped walking after that and looked at you plainly in the eyes as if he was about to state the obvious -- and in his point of view, he was about to. "well, i wasn't about to deny you or anything."
Tumblr media
i get: reblog
you get: socks with sandals
258 notes · View notes
vintagepresley · 2 years ago
Note
idk if ya done one like this all ready..but could you do one where you and Austin are at a awards season party and everything’s going good until Austin’s manager tells you that your not good enough for Austin..you take off to the bathroom to get some air and Austin finds you and tries to help but you have a hard time telling him what happened..he gets a little mad you have a slight panic attack he regrets getting mad..and you finally tell him everything
Thank you for the request! ❤️
Tumblr media
Austin's life was being a whirlwind of crazy when it came to promoting Elvis and now the award shows where he took with you him to every single one. You weren't use to this kind of lifestyle of things, but you were having a great time just being able to support your man every step of the way. He loved having you by his side because he felt you calmed his nerves and he just couldn't do any of these things without his woman by his side. He made you feel so special and you wouldn't think about not being there for him. He deserved every bit of all the wonderful things that were beginning to happen for him. But other people around him did not feel the same about you, his manager in particular seemed to always have an issue with you. You couldn't figure out why but somehow you seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way from the beginning. So whenever you went to events with Austin you did your best to avoid his manager.
You had attended the Golden Globes with him and afterwards he suggested that the two of you head over to the afterparty, where he introduced you to nearly everyone you never met so many famous people in your life, you felt like your head was spinning. As the night went on you had clung to Austin's arm most of it and giving his cheek small kisses. "Having a good time, baby?" he mumbled. You nodded at his words. "I am.. It's all so overwhelming as always. But I'm having a wonderful time." you hummed. He laughed softly, nodding his head. "It's a bit overwhelming for me as well." he smiled, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your lips, while his manager rolled his eyes at the sight of you two, something about you he just didn't like. He felt Austin should date someone who was in the industry not someone who was kind of an outsider. Someone had called out Austin's name wanting to speak with him and he pressed a kiss to your hand with a smile. "I'll be right back, baby." he said softly. You nodded watching him go off and smiling as a few people who you had been introduced to made conversation with you.
Things were going so well and you were feeling great that was until Austin's manager had approached you. "Y/N." he said sternly. "Oh..Hi." you said shyly, swallowing thickly. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked. "Um, sure, okay." you responded as the two of you moved off to the side. "Don't take this the wrong way, but.. Is this really this place for you?" he says rudely. "Excuse me?" you say, furrowing your brow. "Well.. You're not right for him.. He should be dating someone more on his level." he says his words cutting you deep. You tried your best to hold back any tears that were forcing their way out. "I should probably go find Austin.." you whisper as you went to walk away he grabbed your arm. "I'm just saying.. You're not good enough for him. Maybe think about how this makes him look." he uttered. You pulled your arm away from and now the tears were streaming down your face that you didn't even bother to look for Austin you ended up running to the bathroom for some air and Austin sees you run off and he grows a bit concerned so he follows you to the bathroom, where you leaning over the sink and crying softly.
"Baby? What's the matter? What happened?" he says softly as he walked over to you and wrapping his arms around you, you shook your head not wanting to tell him the conversation you just had with his manager. You didn't want to cause issues or further this mans hated toward you. You leaned into Austin's embrace, continuing to cry into his chest. He squeezed his arms around you. "Please, baby.. Tell me what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asked, letting out a soft sigh. You tilted your head up to look at him through your teary eyes, some of your eye makeup a bit of a mess. "I-I can't.." you whispered. He furrowed his brow a bit. "What do you mean you can't?" he says. "I just.. I can't.. I don't know.." you stuttered and stammered over your words nervously. You had to tell him but you just didn't know how. "Y/N, stop it. Just tell me what's wrong." he visibly getting a bit frustrated that you wouldn't just tell him what was wrong.
"I just don't know how.." you mumbled and you felt his arms let go of you and he was a bit angry now. "Would you stop!? Why won't you just tell me what the hell is the matter with you??" he yelled. A small pout forming on your lips as you stepped away from him, wiping your eyes and becoming more upset that he was getting angry with you. You just didn't know how to tell him that his manager was so nasty toward you and now your chest felt heavy and your head felt woozy as you began to hyperventilate, gripping onto the countertop realizing you were having a panic attack. When he sees this any angry feelings he suddenly had were gone as he rushed to your side and cupped your face in his hands. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad. I just wanna know what's wrong.." he mumbled, placing small kisses to your face. "Just relax.. Breathe, honey." he whispered to you. You took a deep breath trying to center yourself as he helped you through your small panic attack.
You looked up at him and your lip tremble with fear but you knew you had to tell him or it was going to drive you crazy. "Aus.. It-It was your manager.. He was so mean and said some hurtful things to me.." you said softly through your little sniffles, as you still had a few tears streaming down your face. He raised an eyebrow and his blue eyes suddenly turn almost black. "What the hell did he say?" he asked. You swallowed harshly, the words leaving you nervously. "H-He was saying how I'm not right for you and how you should date someone more.. Well.. I-I guess better. How I'm not good enough..." those very words had you crying all over again. Austin was furious and he clenched his jaw angrily. His hands gently brushing against your face. "Okay, baby.. Listen to me, honey, don't you listen to what that bastard says. You are plenty good enough for me. I don't want anyone else, you hear me? I only want you. I love you and only you." he whispered before kissing your lips softly. His very words were the thing to stop your crying and a small smile forming on your lips as he kissed you. You slipped your arms around his shoulders and you clung to him tight as you hugged him, sniffling softly. "I love you too.. So much.. I'm sorry." you mumbled.
"What are you sorry for? You did nothing wrong. But I will not have someone manage me who is blatantly disrespectful to the woman I love. I won't have it." he said sternly. You pulled back just a bit from him and nodded your head slowly. He wiped some of your left over tears from your face and some of your makeup that was a little smudged, grabbing a bit of tissue and cleaning your face for you. You smiled a bit. "Don't you worry about a thing, honey." he said softly, throwing the tissue away and then grabbing a hold of your hand as the two of you made your way back out. Your heart was racing not knowing what was about to happen as Austin approached his managed with you rightfully by his side and he didn't waste a second to say something, interrupting the conversation his managed was in the middle of. "Just who do you think you are spewing such hurtful shit to my girlfriend?!" he blurts out. His manager was taken by surprised because Austin never got the way he was in this moment. His manager excusing himself from his conversation. "Just calm down.." he says. "Calm down?! Who are you tell someone that they aren't good enough?!" he yelled. Your eyes widen seeing Austin fly off the handle in such a way, you grasped his arm a bit tighter as you hid your face against his shoulder.
"I was just being honest with her.. She-" Austin cut him off. "Enough! She is the love of my life and you don't dictate who I date. You're fired!" he shouts and he clutched onto your hand tight as he stormed off pulling you along with him, deciding it was time to leave. His manager in complete disarray from what just happened. You look over at Austin as the two of you headed out and his face was painted with anger. "Austin?" you whispered. He glanced over at you and the expression on his face turning to softer one. "Yes, baby?" he replied. "You didn't have to do that for me... But thank you." you said softly. He smiled bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing several small kisses to the back of your hand. "I won't ever let anyone get away with hurting you." he said mumbled. You slipped your arms around his waist and he draped his arm around your shoulder and you held onto him, feeling so protected and loved by him.
**
So cute. 😭😭 The manager was giving colonel vibes, idk. lmaooo
@purejasmine
235 notes · View notes
taehyungfirst · 3 months ago
Note
Real talk. We all know that none of those boys has ever been unattractive. "I wish I was attractive". Come on now JM. "I don't look good on camera". Sir, what?! But not my main man Tae. Because it would have been preposterous for him to be like "yeah me too, my face is def not good either". First off, he knows better and we love a quiet confident king. Also, because if, for some inexplicable reason, those uber pretty boys think they aren't attractive -- having your globally recognized handsome bud chime in (whether to join in or try and convince them otherwise) doesn't help matters. (If you feel chubby, whether you are or aren't, having your much skinnier friend say anything to you is annoying at best.) Even if they don't really think that, he did such a nice, simple job pivoting the negative talk. He moved them to a topic they can all agree on -- Jin is handsome. Or giving them his glasses and hat.
And it's just another glimpse into Tae's personality, specifically the emotional maturity and situational awareness. And it says something that he's famous and talented and next level beautiful but the feedback we more consistently get is how warm and generous and welcoming he is. And why he's such a good friend and why people feel so drawn to him.
Absolutely yes! Just wanna add that even tho he is recognized as the most handsome man in the whole world and his face was probably sculpted by the gods and kissed by the fairies, he also got insecurities. Which is normal, we are all humans.
Some time ago he wouldn’t take one selfie because he didn’t like his face, can you believe it? He developed more confidence during the years and I am very happy about it, reminds me of when Hobi (was it Hobi?) asked him if he got his makeup done and he just replied “I don’t need it”.
Regarding his emotional maturity I completely agree, I have always talked about how I think he’s the member with the most EQ.
12 notes · View notes
just2bubbly · 6 months ago
Text
I have got my inbox littered with angst request and I'm on a fluff high for sometime now- so here's fluff!!
Masterlist
It's All Kismet
Ship: Kaider
Words: 2.2k
Genre: Fluff
Kai's Perspective:
Kai sat at the side table that separated the living space from the kitchen, writing the speech for the Commemorative Ceremony of Kese Peace, consumedly lamenting his career choice.
Working as a publicist for a Senator was wild already. Still, when your employer had a knack for causing a famous racket every other week it was troublesome enough. However, the paycheck was way more appealing than the work and that's one reason Kai has been loyal to his job for years. 
While he worked with his diplomatic skills to say 'It ain't necessarily so fucked up' to make a clearance for another of Truss's events, his girlfriend rummaged through the kitchen attempting to make a meal. 
Thud, came a loud noise of utensils crashing, causing Kai to stir from his work.
"Are you okay, Cin?", he asked, eyes skimming above his laptop screen.
"Oh-- don't worry, just being clumsy," she replied hurriedly. 
"Be careful also let's not have an adventure tonight," he joked, before suggesting, "We could order in if you want," general concern for his meal heightened.
"Stuff it, Kai. I can cook decent!" She exclaimed, slamming one of the cabinet doors to add to the theatrics.
"Tell that to the last time you almost burnt the kitchen down," he sass-ed.
"Fuck you," she yelled back, making him laugh as he continued to scrutinize his draft, the conversation forgotten. There wasn't much noise from the kitchen later. Up until there was a clamorous sound of glass shattering.
Kai was out of his seat, stepping into the kitchen, "Cinder I said no adventure," he said, trying to take in any harm that might have occurred.
Shards of glass lay all around but Cinder paid little heed to it as she was enraptured by something inside the cupboard. He bent down to her level taking in her pale face, and asked, "Why do you look like you saw a ghost?"
No sooner had he spoken those words, than he saw the object that had made his lover so dumbstruck. 
"Oh," he says, his mind trying to work up on how much he has fucked it up. His faint outburst, seemed to have snapped her out of her state as she bellowed, "Just oh, Kai?"
"What else should I say?" He countered, eyes boring holes into the dark blue box.
She spun around frowning at him, brows furrowing like they always do when she tried to keep her words in check, "Maybe doing a decent job of hiding the engagement ring?"
"You never know if it's an engagement ring," he reacted, trying to find a way out of the mishap he orchestrated. 
"Then why hide it in the corner of a kitchen cupboard?"
Kai looks down, realising how hiding the ring in the flour cabinet was a poorly coordinated decision. He had always been clueless about keeping things hidden from his loved ones. Yet, he didn't want the ring to end up in the socks drawer, that was too cliche for his liking. When he had the idea, he was quite convinced that Cinder wouldn't voluntarily go looking for stuff in the kitchen; if she ever did he was always around to ensure that she didn't look into that specific area of cabinets. 'Look where that got me, well planned Kai,' he thought. 
Coming out of his daze he chooses to take some sense of control as he says, "Did you open it?"
"Do you think my intrusive thoughts would stop me from opening a velvet box?", she rebutted, lost in her thoughts. 
Silently Kai wondered how she had imagined the proposal to be, he knew this wasn't what he would have planned if he had gotten something less abrupt. He had bought it a few weeks ago when he had noticed how she had lingered on a particular ring at Cress's ring selection. It was a thoughtless decision, but he wanted Cinder to have what she wanted, so he got the ring and didn't worry about proposing immediately.
"Well, can you forget that you saw it?", he asked meekly. Truth be told, there wasn't any escape unless Cinder agreed to play pretend alongside him. 
Cinder glanced at him and seemed to take in his defeated demeanour as she realised she was being too blunt with him. She moved closer to him, enveloping her hands around him, "Kai," she softly whispered, lips brushing lightly over his knuckles, "Look at me- It's not your fault, just a silly mistake."
He buried his face along the sleeve of her sweater as he hummed along in disappointment, "I wanted it to be memorable."
"I believe it's quite memorable," she teased, kissing the top of his head.
"You know what I mean," he mumbled, looking down as his fingers tried to pick at her sweater.
"Well, you can still ask me out," she pointed, Kai could feel her heartbeats smoothening out now that she was past the earlier adrenaline.
"Now you would be pressurised to say yes", he jokes causing Cinder to snort unceremoniously. As the laughter dies in her throat, she starts to draw circles on his arm.
"I didn't see the ring properly," she admits after a stretch of silence.
"You are going to be the one wearing it. I'm sure you will get plenty of chances to take it in."
"Ask me out!", she orders, removing the hand that was supporting him, causing him to lose his balance.
"You mean now?", He asks incredulously. He doesn't get a verbal answer as she slightly nods her head.
"Don't you want it to be a surprise?"
"It was always coming. Why not do it right now?" She counters.
With that said, Kai was on his knees, looking into her eyes, the words he was to say died on his lips as he caught the twinkle in Cinder's eyes.
He picks himself up as he chants something that resembles a yes. A plan forming in his mind, he might not be able to make it an ideal surprise but he would make sure to make it lovely. 
"Let's do it. We will make dinner and the proposal might happen somewhere along the way- I would like some element of surprise," he announces, hands moving mindlessly as he looks for his phone.
Finding it on the coffee table, he orders Cinder's favourite flowers from a shop two lanes down. Spends a couple more bucks on a strawberry sago since he won't have enough time to make desserts.
As he enters the kitchen, Cinder has already cleaned the scattered pieces of glassware-
"What do you want to eat?"
"Do you want to order in or cook something?"
"Maybe cook tteokbokki, it's quick to make and we could have it with some leftover side dishes," Cinder offers as she rummages through the refrigerator.
"Aren't you being too eager love?" He teases and Cinder never the one to back down from a challenge winks back, "I'm looking forward to the after."
He chuckles, capturing her slightly chapped lips as he whispers, "I wanted it to be something iconic."
Brushing her nose against his, she tugs him closer and says, "You make 'iconic' tteokbokki. If Truss ever lets you go, you will give all cooks a run for their money."
He smiles, "If Truss riles me up again this month. I promise I'd change professions."
Cinder chuckles and shakes her head mumbling Truss would never let Kai walk out of his job.
His lips are smiling on their own accord, as he boils the pot with his ingredients and meanwhile cleans the living room for a better atmosphere- the papers that had been flying all around before had been neatly arranged and stuffed in some corner of the cupboard for later use. The interior shifted so that it could make a temporary dinner table lookalike.
"Do you want me to change?" Cinder asks, standing in the hallway- her tall frame visible as she continues to cook.
Taking in her mismatched outfit of a faded maroon sweater- that she had stolen from Iko some years ago-hanging over her shoulders that came down to mid-thigh, paired with worn-out khaki pants, she had never looked prettier to Kai, "Only if you want to."
"Are you going to change?" she asked instead, taking in his attire that was no better than hers.
He was wearing denims, with a pale blue Oxford shirt that had been wrinkled in all places. Being so caught up in his work, he had chosen not to change after he had returned from work.
"Only if you want to," he repeated.
"You can be so indecisive, Kai," she groaned as she walked back into the kitchen, "Let's not change," she decides for the two.
Kai nodded, true, he could have used a shower but changing into pretty clothes wasn't his agenda. Clearing mess, lighting one of his favourite scented candles, checking Cinder used the right amount of sauce and later searching for a vase to keep flowers, were priorities on his list.
The bell rang as he was almost done making their living room fancier and if the whiff of garlic was any sign, Cinder was probably done with her creation too.
"I'll take the door and shoo inside now, I will call you once everything is set," he said.
He hurriedly set everything as Cinder cribbed every other minute about how long he was taking and how she couldn't take it anymore.  
"Kai, what's taking you so--" the creak of the door prevented her from asking the same question.
"My impatient lover, the home is ready for you!" he declared, trying to imitate a royal bow. Cinder following his action, shook her head affectionately and gave her hand away in greeting which he kissed in courtesy, his eyes never losing focus, causing Cinder to flush herself red.
"Lead the way, my to-be betrothed," she announced, looping her hands with his as they walked silently.
He could feel Cinder inhale sharply as they came before the makeshift dinner table, lined with pale pink chiffon and bow-tied candles, and their favourite music playing in the background.
As he sat before her, she whispered, "This is so beautiful." Her voice was laced with emotions that Kai didn't want her to express yet, they couldn't become a sobbing mess before the dinner even began.
"You have to cry when I go down on my knees, crying now would be a sign of poor cooking," he tells her, squeezing her hand to ground her.
"Aiiy, don't make fun of my cooking," she quipped, smiling at him as he served.
Their voices took over as they talked about everything, from Truss's shitshow to Cinder's boringly genius colleagues, the neighbour's house party they attended last week, and the newly opened restaurant they wanted to try, they gossiped like two fools for so long that it was well past midnight now.
"Hypothetically speaking, let's say I tell you that the spoonful of sago you just ate included the ring, how would you react?" He asks, sounding all serious. This joke doesn't sit right with Cinder as she chokes on her bite and ends up wheezing.
"You really can't take a joke!" He exclaims when she has stopped coughing and earns himself a slap," Who jokes like that?!"  
"Oh c'mon, you looked so ready for a ring to pop up for the last 30 minutes. I had to make a joke, how could you not feel a ring being chewed," He reasoned.
"If it wasn't for you proposing, I would think you wanted to kill me," she jested, and adamantly continued, "Also, ask me before my nerves force me to ask you!" She joked, a tad too seriously.  
"Cinder," he says, a long pause following before he finally asks, "Do you have a ring?"
That question seems to have startled her, as she stares at him stunned- "For fucks sake, Kai. I love you." She exclaims and goes bashing into the adjacent bedroom, leaving Kai behind to make sense of her words.
"I wanted you to have this moment," she says, coming closer with every word, a velvet box in hand. Her long fingers weave together with his own, "I bought it last year- when you went on that business trip to Turkey. Kept it with Iko until yesterday, I knew you would find it at home, just like I found yours. I was going to ask you this coming Saturday," she explained.
It was Kai's turn to be speechless, the long silence broken with his laughter, "Aren't we so stupidly in love?" He says, Cinder agreeing as they fall onto the couch. Cinder on top of him, her torso nestled in his arms, legs a tangled mess.
He isn't sure who leans in first, but their lips meet halfway, and Kai can hear his heart pounding in his ears. Her fingers grazed through his hair, trying to pull out knots from deep within it. He thrummed his fingers along her cheek, as she sunk her teeth, eliciting a moan.
As they tore apart, their lungs begging for oxygen, Kai couldn't wait any longer as he whispered, lips barely hanging above hers, "Marry Me, Cinder", and she closed the remaining distance, a yes said very much inside his mouth.
__
A/N: Honestly speaking, this is largely influenced by this fic from fanfiction.net, wanted to write a proposal fic and perhaps it's my first time writing a modern AU- onto writing for a while now! Leave your love <3
tagging: @gingerale2017 @salt-warrior @slmkaider @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @kaider-is-my-otp @fangirlforever0704 @therealkaidertrash21
10 notes · View notes