#if it's so important then i guess 'speaking through their actions' is a load of all bullshit isnt it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

softykooky · 4 years ago

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sanctuary: seven

summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.

genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) : toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...

rating: NC17

author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

♡ series masterpost ♡

Just leave.

Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart.

You’re such a fool, Y/N.

Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise.

Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point.

There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important.

There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you.

But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face.

“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs.

“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”

When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged.

“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”

Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”

“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off.

This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back.

“And I need to go.”

You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door. The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…

Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world?

You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world.

“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you.

They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments.

But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?

Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him.

“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse.

“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks.

Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day.

“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.

“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”

“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else.

Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice.

A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again.

Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.

They would wait a bit longer.

Everything would be okay after dinner.

The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.

A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being.

There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.

You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister.

The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway.

The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do.

It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk.

“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.”

She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard.

“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?

You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home.

When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you...

You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place.

Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives.

You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun.

You cry for Y/N.

You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams.

There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning.

Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape?

You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N.

You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you.

You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day.

As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down.

Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing.

“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.

“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out.

So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue.

Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others.

“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment.

He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.

He knocks again.

Nothing.

A third time.

Complete and utter silence.

“Y/N?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found.

In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much.

“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears.

“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.

“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.

“Where is who?” Jun monotones.

“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence.

“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.

“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.

The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words.

“She left.”

The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.

“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.

“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.

“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.

“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”

The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all.

“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.

Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to.

“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground.

Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life.

“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.”

Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them.

“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness.

Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you.

Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.

“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”

It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you.

“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”

Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you.

Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.

You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it.

The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored.

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.”

Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you.

You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name.

“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.”

Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them?

“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.

“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”

You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.

Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more.

So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough.

For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.

You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen.

“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did.

“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away.

“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table.

“America.”

America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.

“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression.

“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true.

“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”

“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey.

“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts.

“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.”

The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you.

Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis.

He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence.

“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch.

“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.

“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.”

No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish.

“I loved her too. We all do.”

They can only pray they’ll get to tell you.

The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country.

It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night.

You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on.

The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.

You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself.

“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter.

The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea.

“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter.

“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch.

“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples.

“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.

“Y/N?”

“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”

“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention.

“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs.

Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.

Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks?

Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer.

“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk.

It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit.

Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.

“Jin.”

It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.

“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be.

Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either.

Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him.

And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else.

See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance.

“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool.

Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others.

“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time.

Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile.

“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.”

Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance.

It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission.

Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts.

“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.

“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.”

Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.

“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again.

“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair.

“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”

Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon.

“What are you talking about?”

The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes.

“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.”

Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye.

“Namjoon, I-”

“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.

When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him.

On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t.

“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously.

“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word.

“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.”

Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you.

“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”

“Jin, you don’t have to-”

“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”

Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor.

The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact.

“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop.

“There’s been an accident.”

taglist: @pinkyhim, @deolly, @loveyoongles, @drunkzseok, @hope122598, @uwunamjoon, @nomimits7, @bubblebunnylia, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever, @btsbabby, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona, @jeoncookie-bts, @annoyingpessimist, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre, @taesugaar, @hxsxxk-180294, @bubbletae7, @uglyratlmao, @hopetookmysoul, @supertweetycherry, @missseoulite, @barbikatherine, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes, @sunsetsnsirens-blog, @vanilla-smash, @lmaosani, @onionhaseyeo, @i-dumb-bitch, @euphxriajoon, @justpeachyjoon, @dabbingangels, @h5naaa, @parkmaeri, @softescapism, @bena-baby, @myjiminmychimchim, @moments-of-melancholy, @krystle1990, @chatsgotmytongue, @vi-hoshi, @unlikelylittlemiss, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag, @kookiebbyxx, @thebleuprince, @dreamer95, @jinana-iactium, @holaaaf, @small-babycat, @h0bi-c0re, @katbonv, @embrace-themagic, @jiminmochee, @fanoffandomss, @mwitsmejk, @mrsfortune1306, @raadia, @kookima, @bonesfordayss, @dinoboysindahouse, @jiminie-lovely, @queenceline22, @jikooksgirl19, @somewhereinthestarss, @kookieskiwi, @lynnfanficreblogs, @vintageroses10,

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 24 part two

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Arguing

After enjoying a tense afternoon with Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian comes home to enjoy a tense evening with Jiang Cheng. He pauses in the doorway as he takes in Jiang Cheng’s mood and decides which metaphorical mask he will put on to interact with his shidi. As someone who grew up with explosive people, I find this routine very familiar.

Wei Wuxian is always carefully playing a role as he interacts with the people in his life. Clearly he has read the classic sociology text The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life and is using it as a how-to guide. We see him do this same calculation over and over, in which he reacts internally to a situation, comes to a decision about what persona to inhabit, and then dons that persona. It’s a typical abuse survival tactic and...it is exhausting.

This is why I think his leaving to be alone for a while in Episode 50 is a good thing. Being alone isn’t better than being with someone else, usually, but for Wei Wuxian, who is (by Episode 50) assured of love but not sure where he belongs in his own life, being by himself for a while is going to be the best thing for him. He can learn how to just be a person, instead of constantly trying to mold himself to fit everyone around him.

For the current tense situation, Jiang Cheng is polishing his sword, which, incidentally, is slang (in English, not necessarily in Chinese) for masturbating. Which makes their conversation about how frequently it needs doing kind of a hoot. “One time a month should do,” per Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Cheng yells at Wei Wuxian--fairly, really--for being drunk all the time and not working on clan tasks. Then he responds to a hug attempt by shoving Wei Wuxian and knocking him down. JC asks WW if he’s too drunk to manage his spiritual power. Now, we know that he doesn’t have any spiritual power to manage, and that’s the main point of this interaction. But it also shows us something else about their dynamic.

This was just a quick hit, and when it takes WWX out, JC asks why he isn’t responding with spiritual power. Which means that apparently *every* time Jiang Cheng gives Wei Wuxian a shove or a shoulder check, or strikes him--like he’s been doing constantly since Episode 3--he’s putting spiritual power behind it. That’s...really harsh.

Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to fight back, and Wei Wuxian can’t; this is a big part of why their relationship breaks down. Casual blows loaded with spiritual power are part of their vocabulary, and Wei Wuxian can’t speak that language any more, even for basic defense. He’s literally not safe having simple interactions with Jiang Cheng now, because he’s secretly disabled, and Jiang Cheng is casually injuring him whenever he gets too close.

(more after the cut!)

This time Wei Wuxian has had enough, and raises Chenqing to Jiang Cheng, who immediately backs off. Jiang Cheng has seen that thing in action, not just on the battlefield, but in a small room full of whatever remained of Wen Chao when they were done with him. He takes this as a serious threat, and backs off, disturbed and puzzled and hurt.

Jiang Cheng thinks the change in Wei Wuxian is coming from apathy, not from disability, and so he misunderstands it over and over. Think of a friend saying “whatever, I’m sick of arguing with you, do what you want.” Jiang Cheng is very ready to feel rejected, and not at all ready to look at Wei Wuxian’s behavior and try to actually understand it.

Crying Over You

Wei Wuxian bails and goes to see Jiang Yanli in the ancestral hall, where she is polishing a name plaque. I turned the gamma way up to see whose it is and...I dunno. This character might be 江 (Jiang), I guess?

Jiang Yanli is the only one of the trio who knows how to mourn properly, in that she is taking some time to sit and be sad. Mourning the dead--both ritually and just in the emotional sense--is as important a part of reclaiming Lotus Pier as the training of disciples and having good times on the lake.

She asks him about his fight with Jiang Cheng and he says he’s used to fighting with him. Jiang Yanli asks him if he’s tired of living there, and Wei Wuxian deflects and deflects, saying “it’s my home, where else would I go?” and that if Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted him he would still be begging in the streets. He says “no matter what happens, I won’t leave Lotus Pier,” which is not an answer to her question.

It’s also not true. Like so many of his promises, it’s an expression of his wishes, with no space for the surprises real life is made of. He promises her that he won’t be reckless again, and asks her not to be mad at him. She says she can’t be mad at him, and then they share a flashback about Jiang Fengmian finding him on the street. This is a story, not a memory; Wei Wuxian can’t remember but he remembers her telling him about it. Jiang Yanli wasn’t there, in the moment. So this is her telling the story as it was told to her, probably by Jiang Fengmian.

Flashback Time

In the flashback, picky salad-hating Wei Ying is out on the street, looking for food in a cartload of pretty okay scraps. I mean, yeah, skip the tomatoes, but most of the greens look fine.

He’s found and fed by Jiang Fengmian, who recognizes him and decides to take him in.

Within a couple of episodes, we will see Wei Wuxian paying this favor forward, saving someone he finds starving on the street. Just like Jiang Fengmian, he's going to upset and disrupt his family in order to help someone for whom he feels a deep connection.

During this flashback we get a look at Jiang Fengmian’s sword, and it is a beauty.

What is Love

As the flashback ends, Wei Wuxian is smiling, hearing Jiang Yanli tell this touching story of starvation and orphanhood. She tells him he was born with a smiling face, and that he never minds much about sorrowful things; no matter how bad the situation is, he is always happy. Way to reinforce that metaphorical mask he’s wearing over his deep, deep despair, sis!

They talk a bit about Jiang Cheng’s bad temper. Then Jiang Yanli says now that her parents are gone, they three are the closest in the world, and he responds by putting his head down on her knee and theatrically saying he’s hungry. But he’s crying for real, and so is she.

Then he decides to ask her why people fall in love, basically, and claims that he does not have anyone in his heart. He says there’s no need to like a person that much, that it’s like “haltering your own neck,” according to Netflix. Let’s have a look at that figurative language for a second, and what’s missing from the Neflix translation.

What he says is (as near as my qhanzi.com skills can make out) “這不就是自己給自己脖子上套犁拴韁吗” which Google tells me means "Isn't this just putting a plow on my neck with a rein?" The part of the image that’s missing from Netflix subs is the plow, and the hard labor and animal servitude involved in pulling a plow. This isn’t a pro-romance image.

He’s clearly thinking about Lan Wangji when he lies about having no-one in his heart, but right now the yoke that he wants to escape has nothing to do with Lan Wangji. The person he’s harnessed to in a team, the person who he labors with, the person he wants to escape, is Jiang Cheng. What’s chafing his neck is the promise he made, to stay and serve as one half of a pair, when he can no longer pull his weight.

Busted

Speaking of Jiang Cheng, he is hanging around outside the shrine, listening to the conversation. Wei Wuxian busts him, pointing out not that eavesdropping is bad, but that it’s bad for grownups. Jiang Cheng points out that he’s the master of Lotus Pier so he’s allowed to go anywhere he wants.

(I love how he looks framed by this giant lotus behind him)

We Wuxian has another of those moments where he assesses the best approach to Jiang Cheng before responding.

Then he picks a fake fight with him about soup. Yanli comes out and tells them both to grow up, saying that JC is losing his demeanor as clan leader. He jokingly fixes his already-perfect robe ad they all have a chuckle.

Then Jiang Cheng reminds Wei Wuxian of his promise for the millionth time, and Jiang Yanli goes to make soup for the millionth time. As soon as the boys see that she’s gone, the smiles drop right off of their faces. They’re both performing their typical relationship dynamic for Jiang Yanli.

Being Reasonable

The brothers repair to the main hall, and stand behind the lotus throne looking out of this complicated wall/doorway thingy, while they talk about Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan.

Jiang Cheng is being mature and sensible here, trying to give Jiang Yanli what she wants and also explaining very, very basic political stuff to Wei Wuxian, who is too caught up in his hate boner for JZX to want to think about the bigger picture. He also thinks that Jin Guangyao is a nicer person, but Jiang Cheng says that nice doesn’t matter.

Wei Wuxian is getting a full head of steam going about what a jerk JZX is, when Jiang Cheng makes him actually stop and think, by pointing out that it’s not for them to forgive or not forgive Jin Zixuan’s past behavior; it’s up to Yanli.

Wei Wuxian sees the reasoning in this, and starts to say he can’t understand why Yanli chose to like this person, but then he stops himself and goes through a rapid series of thoughtful, uncomfortable expressions.

Perhaps he’s realizing that he himself has chosen to like an infamously stuck-up, fancy cultivator, albeit one with no soup-related character deficits.

Library Time

The stuck-up cultivator in question is currently in the Cloud Recesses library, where he has snuck into the forbidden books room, against his uncle’s express command, for the purpose of helping Wei Wuxian. The forbidden books room is an entire basement floor of the library; it probably has more books than the not-forbidden part of the library, since the main floor needs space for the restrooms, circulation desk, and copy machines.

(Did OP photoshop the Wangxian-in-the-Library porn picture onto Lan Wangjis’ book? She did.)

A couple of other Lans come along and see the main door unlocked. The lock is a big fish that probably uses magic for locking; it definitely doesn’t use a key. One of them steps in the doorway, glances back and forth without walking through, and does not check the secret door to the forbidden vault. Gosh, how did Su She and/or Jin Guangyao ever manage to steal secrets from this highly secure location, wow.

Lan Wangji hears the Lan disciple on guard duty say “don’t tell Hanguang Jun about this!’ and has a series of microexpressions that might indicate some kind of feeling about simultaneously being a rule breaker and a rule enforcer.

Boat Time

We end with an idyllic scene on the lake in Lotus pier, where a new batch of disciples is harvesting lotuses and learning the opposite of boat safety.

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are having a good time, and seem utterly carefree; both of them are good at living in the moment, or faking it.

Wei Wuxian thinks, in voiceover, that it seems that it’s not so hard to go back to the old days. Uh...ok.

Except he’s hiding a massive secret and these replacement kids are not the same juniors he used to hang out with, and he can’t actually teach them cultivation, since he has no socially-acceptable magic power, and everything is about to go to shit in the next episode. But you gotta take your joy where you can, I guess.

Note: There are a lot of questionable effects in The Untamed, but there are also beautiful scenes like this one, which looks like a Maxfield Parrish painting. Compare with the BTS below and you can see what a good job the VFX team did in bringing this lake to life.

#the untamed #cql #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years ago

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COSMIC - S1:E2; Chapter Two, The Weirdo On Maple Street - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘠/𝘯, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯.

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Lucas, Dustin and I take our seats once we get to class.

"Oh, that can't be good." I sigh, gesturing to Mike's empty seat.

"Yeah, he's never this late," Dustin added.

"I'm telling you, his stupid plan failed," Lucas stated.

"I thought you liked his plan?"

"Yeah, but obviously it's stupid, or he'd be here."

"If his mom found out a girl spent the night—" Dustin began.

"He's in deep shit right about now."

Dustin shifted in his seat, and leaned forward, whispering loud enough for us to hear. "Hey, what if she slept naked?"

"Ugh!" My face screws into a sour, disgusted look aimed at my brother, unintentionally speaking at the same time as Lucas. "Why would she do that, Dustin?"

"Oh, my God, she didn't."

"Oh, if Mrs. Wheeler tells our parents..."

The thought of Mom finding out was enough to elicit an anxious groan from me, and I let my forehead fall against desk where I buried my face.

"No way. Mike would never rat us out."

I hesitantly looked up, making eye contact with Lucas. He gave me a reassuring smile, knowing I worry easily.

"I don't know." Dustin said warily.

"All that matters is, after school, the freak will be back in the loony bin, and we can focus on what really matters, finding Will." I frown at his specific choice of words for El, thinking back on how scared she seemed last night. I desperately want to say something, but decided against it, not wanting to get in a fight. Fighting won't get us any closer to finding Will.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Mike Wheeler rides his bike down the small slope of grass towards his front yard. When El refused to let Mike's mom know she was there, Mike had no choice but to resort to plan b. He had led his mom to believe that he had ridden to school when in reality he had stopped around the corner until both his parents were gone.

When he got to the driveway, he dismounted his bike and led it into the garage, however something caught his eye. He stared in awe as the once withered and frankly the most miserable looking plant he had ever seen in his life, was now a beautiful lush green and stood as tall his knees. 'How had Y/n done it?'

It took a solid moment for Mike to gather his thoughts and focus on the task at hand. He parked his bike and made his way inside.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"You want anything to drink?" Mike decided to take advantage of the empty house so that he could show El around. "We have OJ, skim milk... What else? Um, we have..."

Mike trailed off when he saw that El was more fascinated with the things in his living room, mostly his TV set.

"Oh, this is my living room. It's mostly just for watching TV."

El lightly traced her fingers around the frame of the TV as she examined it.

"Nice, right? It's a 22-inch.

That's, like, ten times bigger than Dustin's."

El turned her head and said quietly.

"Y/n."

"Well, yeah of course. Y/n too."

"Y/n. Brother?" She asked, making sure she remembered correctly.

"Yeah!" Mike smiled, then lightly shrugged. "Well, technically adopted. But yeah, they're still brothers."

El's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Ad-adopted?"

"Yeah, um, it means that he came from different parents. Mrs. Henderson adopted him because his parents were unable to take care of him. It's funny actually, Y/n is from Hawkins. Or at least that's where they found him. They didn't used to live in Hawkins; I don't know much about it cause Dustin was so young he doesn't remember any of it, but I think him and his mom were visiting family here and they just... found him, I think? I'm pretty sure that's why they moved here, or something."

El seemed to understand as she thought about it. She then turned to look at the all the pictures on top of the fireplace. She slowly walks to the fireplace and steps up onto the brick platform. She gazes at all the family photos. Particularly, the photo beside the one of Mike; of a smiling girl, a little older than herself, with long brown hair and a pink sweater.

She smiles longingly and speaks in a soft voice. "Pretty."

"I guess." Mike's face is contorted in confusion and a little in disgust.

"That's my sister Nancy. And that's baby Holly." He said as she moved to the slightly larger photo of a young baby. She then moved along to a photo with Mike, Nancy, and Holly, along with two other people she didn't recognize.

"And those are my parents. What are your parents like?" As usual, El says nothing and she steps down from the fireplace and walks up to a large green chair.

"Do they live close?" Mike continued. He notices El run her hand along the top of the plush green chair. "That's our La-Z-Boy. It's where my dad sleeps. You can try it if you want." He offers. El looked up at him, intrigued. "Yeah." He assured her, with a warm smile on his face. She cautiously sits down as Mike kneels down beside the chair. "It's fun!"

She looked to Mike, wondering what he is up to.

"Just trust me, okay?" She gives a quick nod, and braces herself, not knowing what to expect. She is taken aback by the sudden collapse of the chair, she is now laying down and the chair is rocking back and forth. She lets out a gasp, and then a nervous chuckle.

"See? Fun, right?"

With one hand on the back of the chair, and the other on the front, he brings the chair back into its default position. "Now you try."

With a small smile on her face, and feeling more confident she leans over the side and pulls the handle, letting her entire body go flying backward into a slow rock. Mike and El both look at each other and laugh gleefully.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Some random rock song on the radio that Jonathan barely recognized came to an end as Jonathan Byers drove to his dad's house. His eyes darted to the radio unit in his car for a moment as his heart fell when the familiar sound of "Should I Stay or Should I Go" rang throughout the car.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"Darlin', you got to let me know"

Jonathan is sat on the edge of the bed next to his younger brother Will. The two of them are in Will's room, bobbing their heads along to 'Should I Stay or Should I Go' by The Clash.

"Should I stay or should I go?"

"You like it?" Jonathan had to raise his voice so he could be heard over the loud song. Will looks to his older brother and grins.

"Yeah, it's cool!"

"All right, you can keep the mix if you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. All the best stuff's on there. Joy Division, Bowie, Television, The Smith's... It'll totally change your life."

"Yeah, totally," Will says with a smile. However, the smile is quick to leave when the two boys hear their mother yelling on the phone.

"Where the hell are you, Lonnie?"

Will slowly turns his head to the door, listening to his mother yell at his absent father.

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear it." Jonathan mimics his brother's actions and looks to the door. Finally, he gets up and walks towards the door.

"This is ridiculous! I'm so sick of your excuses.

"One day is fine and next is black"

Before Jonathan sits down, he lowers the volume on the stereo.

"He's not coming, is he?"

"Do you even like baseball?" Jonathan asks softly.

"No, but... I don't know." He shrugs sadly. "It's fun to go with him sometimes."

"Come on. Has he ever done anything with you that you actually like? You know, like the arcade or something?"

Will shrugs his shoulders weakly. "I don't know."

"No, all right? He hasn't. He's trying to force you to like normal things. And you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed to. Okay?"

Will only looks down at his feet sadly.

"Especially not him."

Will silently nods his head in understanding.

Jonathan decided to change the subject.

"But you like The Clash? For real?"

Will nods his head eagerly with a smile. "For real. Definitely."

"So... is Y/n a fan of The Clash?" Jonathan asks, genuinely curious.

A faint blush dusts Will's cheeks as he looks down at his hands. "Um, yeah, I think so."

"Maybe you should show this to him. I bet he'll like it."

"Maybe. You think?"

"Yeah, from what I know, he has great taste. He's pretty cool."

A loving smile spreads across Will's face. "Yeah, he is pretty cool."

There's a small pause filled only with the now dulled melody of drums and guitar drifting through the air. They had talked about it before, but only vaguely, never fully addressing it and it dawned on Jonathan that there was probably still loads of fear for Will because of it. He looks down at his brother who he loved more than anything and sent him an encouraging, honest smile.

"Will, you guys are best friends. You two are just too close to ruin the friendship. Why don't you think about asking him to the arcade or something? Just the two of you, maybe come back here for some mac and cheese or something if that'd make you feel safer, and you could " he shrugs. "let him know how you feel?"

Will looked up at his brother, shocked. But his body was flushed with relief, he could feel the air in the room hitting his sweaty and clammey skin giving him chills. Not quite knowing how to handle his brothers reaction, his eyes simply fall to his hands where they fidgeting in his lap.

"But what if that does ruin the friendship? What if he doesn't feel the same way, and decides to stop hanging out with me. Or if someone finds out- I just- I just can't. I'm not ready."

"That's okay. All I'm saying is, he is way too nice to be the kind of person who would do that. And you are way too important to him. And hey, if you ever do feel ready, or you guys do go out in the future..." Jonathan trails off, sensing the awkwardness creep up. He chuckles and looks back to his brother.

"All I'm trying to say is, I'm here for you. Always."

Will smiles gratefully and Jonathan leans forward to the volume back up.

"Should I stay or should I go? So you gotta let me know, should I stay or should I go?"

- 𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

#you'll float queue #stranger things #will byers x reader #reader insert #will byers #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #cosmic #m!cosmic #el hopper #eleven #y/n henderson #stranger things x male!reader #stranger things x reader #will byers x male!reader #the weirdo on maple street

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hornedsimp · 4 years ago

Note

Hello I saw you happened to be taking some requests and I may or may not be lonely and horny, so if I may request jschlatt and the reader getting into an argument and jschlatt pinning the reader down and having rough angry sex? I think it's hot please don't send me to horny jail.

Hey there! Thanks for taking the time to request it, don't worry, there is no horny jail around this parts.

I tried to make it rough and angry, but I'm not sure if it's what you expected, I hope you like it though!

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

Jschlatt x Reader

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

Warnings: NSFW, light choking, degradation.

That's what I got, but if you see anything that you want md to put in the warnings please let me know

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

"Jesus Christ, can you stop for five seconds and just listen to my idea woman?" Schlatt asked with an annoyed voice.

You watched as he ran his hand through his dark brown locks of hair, a sigh escaping him as he tried to keep a posture in front of you.

"I won't listen to this bullshit schlatt, you're trying to get a festival just to prove a fucking point! you can just fire tubbo!" You argued for what it seems like the hundred time in a row.

"But I can't Y/n! people expect me to go crazy with decisions! this is what I'm giving them!"

You rolled your eyes at that, of course, you knew about how everyone saw schlatt, Tubbo betraying him, and running back to Tommy and Willbur was painful even for you to acknowledge seeing as you were working with him since the beginning.

Standing in his office you could only think about the situation you were being put on, he wanted you to back him up, say that what he was doing was right, and if it were any other situation maybe you would, but this one was just too stupid for you to agree with.

"You know what Mr. President, you do whatever the fuck you want to do, I'm not going to back you up on this one." You declared turning your back to him so you could leave the office.

Each step you took was filled with anger, for him or yourself you couldn't decide, but you stood by your decision, and you were ready to go home and sleep until the sun rose again.

Schlatt on the contrary, wasn't ready to let you go so easily.

The hybrid grabbed your arm before you could leave the room, pulling you closer so your back was pressed against the bookshelf on his wall, his hands still holding your wrists in place as he towered over you with an angry expression.

You were ready to curse him for grabbing you out of nowhere and acting like a jerk before he bends down just a little so he could smash your lips together, he didn't waste any time before biting your lower lip just with enough force to make you open your lips to let out a hiss of pain.

Schlatt took the opportunity to finally let go of your wrists, his hands moving so one of them could settle on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your bodies together, as if he couldn't get enough contact with you, his other hand got to your hair, keeping your head steady so he could deepen the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours until he pulled away, he seemed proud of his work, but you could tell there was still anger behind those eyes.

"You think you hold so much power over me like that, don't you? walking around in that tight skirt and bossing me around like you own me or something" He growled in a low tone, his hand slowly grabbing your hair before he pulled it to the side, making you move your hair to present your neck to him.

You could only watch his tongue darting out so he could lick his lips, his hungry gaze running over your face before he let out a low laugh, getting closer so his lips were touching your neck.

"You drive me so fucking mad all the time, always having a problem with all that I do, but you're just a little slut that is all bark and no bite."

Every word went straight to your core, his lips moving on your neck sending shivers down your spine as you could feel his hot breath directly in your skin.

And then suddenly you could feel a jolt of pain running through your body, schlatt sank his teeth right in the end of your neck, on the start of your shoulder, letting out a hiss of pain you grabbed on his hair harshly, trying to move his head.

He let go only to then move up on your neck, filling it with small bites and purple hickeys decorating your skin as you let out filthy moans that echoed through the office.

You grabbed schlatt's horns when he was about to give you another bite on the shoulder and pulled his head to the side, watching as his pupils blew wide and he focused completely on your face, his eyebrows coming together in a frown.

"You can't fucking wait for me to-" He tried to free his horns from you, but with another movement yanking his head to the side again, you interrupted his speech.

"Just stop being a pussy and fuck me already if you're that desperate asshole!"

Schlatt's face became darker at your words, he got a hold of your waist and pulled you up, making you cross your legs around him, your skirt going up so you could feel your covered pussy rubbing against his crotch.

You both were lucky that there wasn't anything important on the desk, besides some white papers and pens that got thrown at the floor before Schlatt could put you on the table.

He moved back to take his shirt off, throwing his tie across the room and kicking his shoes under the table so he could finally take his pants out, you, on the other hand, was busy taking your shirt off, more carefully than the president, and trying to unclasp your bra.

As soon as Schlatt was free of his clothes he pulled your legs in his direction, thrusting himself right inside you without a warning, your body shook with force and you grabbed on the table as he squeezed your ankles.

"You're so. Fucking. Stubborn. All the damn time." He growled, moving his hips at every word.

He moved all the way out, living only the tip inside of your pussy before slamming right back in, rocking your whole body and making your eyes roll back as you bit your lip, still holding on to the table.

"If you weren't such an asshole I wouldn't have to put you in your place" You barked back, a proud smirk on your face.

Schlatt huffed in annoyance, he moved your legs so they were hunged over his shoulders, and then moved his hands to hold your waist, now leaving purple bruises on your skin.

As you were getting used to his rhythm, a sharp thrust threw you off guard, as he started to pick up the pace, roughly fucking you in his desk, you could only try to keep yourself on the table, making sure you wouldn't fall over by his actions.

Schlatt only smirked seeing you trying to keep your balance on the table, fastening his pace so he could make things harder for you, you could feel his nails digging down on your flesh, but you could also feel his gaze, hungry, looming over you.

"You love driving me mad don't you? I guess this is the only way to teach sluts like you their place" He bends down so he could whisper in your ear.

You could feel his hot breath in your neck, he was panting like mad, his hips never stopped moving as he went back to filling your neck with bites that you could only help that would be easy enough to cover with some makeup.

Your body was trembling underneath his hands, you could feel how close you were from an orgasm as he fucked you harder and harder, trying to gather your voice, you tried to call out for him, to warn him that you were going to come if he kept fucking you like this, but the only thing that got out were broken moans and something that couldn't be described as cohesive speaking.

You moaned his name again and again, one of his hands came to your throat, hold you down with enough pressure to make the sounds to stop coming as you gasped for air, your pussy clenching around him at the action, white spots filling your vision.

"What, you're going to fucking cum? yeah? be a good little slut for once and come for me." He spoke harshly.

His hand squeezing your throat a little more, and with another sharp thrust it was almost like a barrier broke down, and you were drowned in pure pleasure that made your body tremble harder and your eyes squeezed shut.

Schlatt gave a few more thrusts before he let out a loud "Fuck" and once more pressed himself deeper inside of you, cumming deep into your cunt.

Hot loads of his cum filling you in as he let go of your throat, you gasped for air finally opening your eyes to look at the mess he made.

Or actually, the mess you made on him.

Schlatt was breathing heavily, his hair falling on his face and you could see the sweat on his body.

"If making you mad it's going to end up like this, I think I'm going to keep pissing you off." You sayed with a smile on your face.

#dream smp #imagine #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #c!schlatt

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rebelwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome To The Family Brother

Jax Teller x Reader // Harvey Specter x Sister Reader

Join The TagList Here 💜 // Jax Teller Masterlist // Harvey Specter Masterlist

“I don’t get why we had to fly out to New York just to tell Harvey the news” Jax huffed as he loaded your suitcases into the taxi. “Like the man hates me”

“Quit moaning” you said rolling your eyes at him “some things can’t be done over FaceTime okay, and stop being stupid he doesn’t hate you”

“Darlin’ he does” Jax sighed.

“Okay well maybe he dislikes you but I would go as far as saying he hates you” you said climbing into the car “look after everything that went off between mum and dad, I’m all he has so yes he might still be pissed at the fact I moved to charming but trust me he is just being a baby”

“It’s been 3 years Y/N” Jax sighed “he is never going to like me”

“And that’s part of the reason you are with me” you smiled “you and him will get along as I refuse to get married or have this baby without the two most important people in my life seeing eye to eye”

“I guess you are right” Jax nodded as he played with your engagement ring.

“Babe I’m always right” you winked before giving the driver the address to your hotel.

“Well if it isn’t the youngest and better looking specter” Donna grinned as you walked up to her desk.

“Don’t let Harvey hear you say that” you winked as she pulled you into a hug.

“What do we owe the pleasure?” She asked

“I needed to speak to Harvs and needed to be done in person” you grinned.

“I’m judging by the rock on your finger it’s something to do with that” she beamed.

“Yeah it is” you smiled.

“He is on a call right now but go on in I’m sure he will be thrilled to see you” she nodded.

“Jax baby wait here with Donna” you smiled kissing his cheek.

Pushing the glass door open you couldn’t help but laugh, he was still the same Harvey.

“Look I don’t care what you have to do, get me them damn files” He snapped ending the call.

“Still the same old ball breaker” you smirked.

Watching him spin around his expression changed from a frown to a grin.

“When did you get in town?” He asked pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“Harvs cannot breath here” you fake gasped making him laugh “and just got here”

“What trouble has he got you in now” Harvey sighed as you picked up the baseball from his desk.

“Why do you always assume I’m in trouble” you laughed “in fact I have something to tell you”

“Please tell me he has broken up with you so you can move home” he said leaning on his desk.

“Harvey” you laughed, launching the baseball at him.

“What” he smirked catching the ball.

“Play nice” you laughed “I came here to tell you he asked me to marry him”

“Damn it” Harvey sighed

“Seriously you should be happy for me” you glared.

“How can I be happy when he is keeping you away from your home” he said with no emotion in his voice.

“You need to get over this” you sighed “it’s been 3 years Harvs, I know you think he is going to replace you but I promise no one can replace my big brother”

“You promise” he pouted.

“Pinky promise” you nodded, holding your little finger out to him.

“Fine” he sighed dramatically “but I’m only doing this for you”

“Thank you” you smiled “now there is an important question I need to ask you”

“Go on” he said.

“Will you be the one to give me away?” You smiled as you watched him take in what you just said.

“Are you serious?” He grinned making his way over to you.

“Yuup, I mean if rather have you give me away than walk down the aisle on my own” you beamed.

“I’d be honoured to trouble” he grinned pulling you into a hug.

“There’s one more thing as well” you laughed. “Harvs you are being prompted”

“No, I'm not” he laughed.

“Yes you are you big idiot” you laughed “you are being promoted to uncle”

“Wait what?” He asked.

“I’m pregnant” you grinned.

“Fuck I need a drink” he laughed “but get the lad in here I need to have a chat with him”

“Please play nice” you laughed, wiggling out of his arms and walking out of his office.

“Jax he wants to speak to you” you smiled.

“That’s it trouble just make yourself at home” Harvey smirked as he saw you sprawled out on the sofa flicking through the channels on the TV.

“I will don’t worry” you smirked “now get me a drink would ya”

“I forgot how demanding you were” he laughed.

“Don’t lie, Harvs you miss it” you said sticking your tongue out at him.

“Like a hole in the head” he said under his breath but you heard him and was glaring at him.

“Now Teller we didn’t get a chance to properly talk earlier” Harvey said rolling his sleeves up, his expression blank.

You knew what was coming, he was gonna bust Jax’s balls. Thank god Donna gave you a heads up that he made her run a background check on Jax. You knew he would, this was Harvey you were talking about here. If there was one thing in this world that was true was how protective he was over you.

“Now Jackson there’s a few things that I need to say that I’m not happy about” Harvey said without breaking eye contact.

You knew he was going in just by the fact he called him Jackson. You were on the verge of laughing so you had to pull your hoodie over your mouth to hide your smile. You watched as Jax gulped slightly.

“First thing first I really don’t like the idea about you having guns around my niece or nephew” Harvey said “like I absolutely hate it, you can’t have guns around children”

“I know” Jax mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So what are you doing about that?” Harvey asked, raising his eyebrow at him.

“Urm l” Jax panicked before composing himself “I have brought a gun safe for the house and I have spoke to my brothers about keeping their guns out of reach of the baby”

“Okay” Harvey nodded sipping his whiskey “now for the Harleys what is your plan for transport as you are not putting a car seat on the back of a bike”

“Well Y/N has her mustang and I won’t let her sell it to get a more suitable car so in the next couple of months we will be going car shopping to get a more suitable car” Jax said.

You tried so hard not to laugh and Jax puffed his chest out trying to be alpha. And you could tell your brother was trying not to laugh.

“You know I’m not a massive fan of the life you live” Harvey sighed “there is so much danger that you are putting my sister in and will soon be putting your child in as well. I have done a background check on you boy and you have quite a record”

You saw Jax’s face drop, you knew he was trying hard to get the club out of dealing guns and into more legitimate business. Part of you wanted to jump in and tell Harvey to stop but you knew this needed to happen.

“I know and it’s not something I am proud of” Jax sighed “and I am doing everything in my power of being president of the club to get us on the more straight and narrow but these things take time. Deals need to be tied up and finished as if we just cut the ties then shit gets messy and one thing I am sure off, I will not let my actions be the reason Y/N or out child gets hurt”

Harvey didn’t say anything so Jax carried on.

“Look I know you are her brother and I am not going to disrespect you because I know how much you mean to her but you need to understand that what you see on the paper is the old me, the one that didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything that was until Y/N walked into my life” Jax said standing his ground.

You knew your brother so well, and this was what he wanted, he wanted Jax to stand up to him.

“The day she walked into my life I knew there was something special about her and I knew I would lay my life down on the line for her and now I will for our child as well. Yes I have a shady past but I am doing everything in my power to turn things around and if you can’t see that then I’m sorry” Jax said without breaking eye contact.

Harvey stood there in shock for a second taking in everything Jax had said before he couldn’t hold the grin back. Leaving Jax confused and you laughing in the background.

“You know I am only busting your balls man” Harvey laughed pulling Jax in for a hug “welcome to the family brother”

#Jax teller #jax teller x reader #Harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #sons of anarchy #suits usa #jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller oneshot #harvey specter imagine

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galemalio · 4 years ago

Text

3 Examples of Racial Bias in Animation Storytelling

It’s not hard to grasp that a white person, while not explicitly or consciously racist in the sense we might usually imagine, is still inherently racially biased because they benefit from and grow up used to white supremacy.” - Scottishwobbly, Tumblr

This is nothing new. This is something POC (People of Color) have been talking about in separate fandoms. Nevertheless, it needs to be acknowledged by those unaware.

This article is not made to say that some of the animations that I will use as examples are bad. But in the hopes that we, as consumers and creators, will do better in the future in handling characters that are POC.

Most often, racial bias in storytelling is when the narrative treats white or light skin toned characters better than darker skin toned characters. The darker skin toned characters are often POC-coded or actual POC.

White creators often do not notice their racial bias in their storytelling as they benefit from and grow up with white privileges and white supremacy. This can also apply to light-skinned POC who have light skin priviliges.

Some of us don’t often see it but real people who relate to the characters of color do. Especially when it reflects from their experiences with racial bias, microaggressions, colorism and flat out racism.

So when they speak up, it’s important to listen to them to unlearn the racial bias we may have in ourselves.

I will be emphasizing “the narrative” for I am criticizing how the story treats its dark-skinned characters and not because I am criticizing the characters themselves.

This article is critiqued by @visibilityofcolor as a sensitivity reader once and then additions were made before publishing. If you’re looking for a Black sensitivity reader, you can contact her.

This article is a 14-minute read at average speed so buckle up. Unless you want to skip to your show mentioned below. External Tumblr Resources will be put in the reblog.

Here are three examples that I was made aware of.

Example #1: The Narrative Treats the Light-Skinned Character at the Expense of the Dark-Skinned Character

Steven Universe was one of the animations that pushed lgbt+ representation in cartoon media. However, there are narratives here and there that showed racial bias.

SU creator Rebecca Sugar was raised with "Jewish sensibilities" and both siblings observe the lighting of Hanukkah candles with their parents through Skype.[1] Rebecca Sugar also talked about being non-binary.[2]

But as a white person, she (and the rest of the SU crew) is not aware of the inherently biased values from growing up and benefiting from white privilege.

One example is the human zoo. There are people that have spoken up about this such as @jellyfax of Tumblr who pointed out that the Crewniverse mishandled a loaded topic and reinforced a white colonist propaganda where the captive humans of mostly black/brown people are naive, docile and childlike in order to subjugate the people that they colonized. .

What I’m here is how a character of color from the main cast is more obligated to the lighter-skinned character.

In the episode, Friend Ship, one fan had spoken out about how Garnet, who had been validly angry at Pearl, was compelled by a dangerous situation to forgive Pearl. Garnet is a Black-coded character. While Pearl is a light-skinned character.

Garnet was mad at Pearl for tricking her into always fusing with her. Then they were trapped in a chamber that was going to crush them. In this situation, they have to fuse in order to save themselves but Garnet refuses to because she was still angry at her.

In the end, they were forced to talk it out, for Garnet to understand Pearl’s reason for wanting to fuse with her and everything worked out well.

The narrative focused so much on Pearl’s self-worth issues at the expense of Garnet’s right to be angry.

Yes, it showed that Pearl is trying her best to make up for it but Garnet should have been allowed to work at her own anger at her own pace instead of being obligated to consider Pearl’s feelings over her own.

I wouldn’t have noticed it until someone had mentioned it. Because it was never my experience.

But it’s there, continuing the message that it’s okay to put the emotional labor on Black people and disregard their own feelings for the sake of the non-Black people who have hurt them -particularly light-skinned women.

White Fragility and Being Silenced White Woman Tears

Again, racial bias in animation storytelling is often not intentional because white creators do not experience it due to white privilege.

Without meaning to, that scene alone shows Garnet as the Angry Black woman trope that is ungrateful and rude to Pearl who then ends up in tears. Without meaning to, Pearl with her light skin, became the tearful white girl trope that had to be sympathized over.

The Angry Black Woman trope is a combination of the worst negative stereotypes of a Black woman: overly aggressive, domineering, emasculating, loud, disagreeable and uppity.[13]

The Tearful white girl trope comes from the combination of the stereotypes of white women being morally upstanding and delicate and therefore should be protected.[13]

Which, unfortunately, many white women have taken advantage of.

These two tropes are harmful to WOC (Women of Color) because they experience the "weary weaponizing of white women's tears". This tactic employed by many white women incites sympathy and avoids accountability for their actions, turning the tables to their accuser and forcing their accuser to understand them instead.

(Image by Виктория Бородинова from Pixabay)

In "Weapon of lass destruction: The tears of a white woman", Author Shay described that white tears turns a white woman into the priority of whatever space she's in. "It doesn't matter if you're right, once her tears are activated, you cease to exist." [11]

White woman tears have gotten Black people beaten and lynched such as Emmett Till. Carolyn Bryant who had accused 14 year old Emmett Till of sexually harassing her in 1955, admitted she lied about those claims years later in 2007.[15]

In Awesomely Luvvie's "About the Weary Weaponizing of White Women Tears", she states that the innocent white woman is a caricature many subconsciously embrace because it hides them from consequences. [10]

In The Guardian’s article, "How White Women Use Strategic Tears to Silence Women of Colour", Ruby Hamad shares her experience:

"Often, when I have attempted to speak to or confront a white woman about something she has said or done that has impacted me adversely, I am met with tearful denials and indignant accusations that I am hurting her. My confidence diminished and second-guessing myself, I either flare up in frustration at not being heard (which only seems to prove her point) or I back down immediately, apologising and consoling the very person causing me harm."[4]

This is not to say that all crying white women are insincere. But as activist Rachel Cargle said:

“I refuse to listen to white women cry about something. When women have come up to me crying, I say, ‘Let me know when you feel a little better, then maybe we can talk.’”[3]

One of the most quoted words in “White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism.” is this:

“It is white people’s responsibility to be less fragile; people of color don’t need to twist themselves into knots trying to navigate us as painlessly as possible.”[3]

When white women cry in defense, instead of taking accountability, People of Color are then gaslighted into thinking they’re the bad guy. This is emotional abuse and a manipulation tactic.

People of Color shouldn’t have to bend backwards to accommodate discomfited white or light-skinned people who have hurt them.

How She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (SPOP) Did It Right

Despite SPOP having good lgbtq+ representations, there are other biases in the show. Such as Mara, a WOC whose only purpose was to sacrifice herself for the white protagonist. There was also the insensitive joke in their stream regarding Bow’s sibling that perpetuated an Anti-Black stereotype which Noelle Stevenson has apologized for.[14]

But the scene I have encountered where the Black character was validly angry and his feelings were treated well by the narrative, came from SPOP.

Bow, a black character, was validly angry at Glimmer, a lighter skinned character. Glimmer made a lot of bad decisions, one of them was using Adora and their friends as bait, without their knowledge, to lure out and capture Catra.

Glimmer tearfully apologized in Season 5, Episode 4. Adora readily forgave her. But Bow didn't.

They faced dangers along the way but the story didn't put them in a dangerous situation where Bow has to forgive Glimmer in order to get out of it.

This was Glimmer's words of apology:

"Look, I know you're still mad at me. Maybe you'll be mad at me for a really long time. I deserved it. And maybe... maybe we'll never be friends like we used to be. But I'm not going to stop trying to make it better. I made a mistake with the heart of Etheria. I should've listened to you and I'm sorry. You get to be mad. For as long as you need to be. But I'm not going anywhere. And when you're ready, I'll be here."

In short, Bow was allowed to take the time to be mad and not just get over it for someone else’s sake. The story validates his feelings and he was allowed to take his own pace. That is emotional respect the story gave to him.

Example #2: The Narrative Gives Better Endings or Portrayals to Colonizers than Their Victims

Avatar: The Last Airbender has handled dark themes well such as genocide, war, PTSD, disability and redemption with great worldbuilding.

However, I never noticed the racial bias in ATLA until people spoke up of the double standards in ATLA’s treatment of light-skinned colonizers compared to their dark-skinned victims-turned-villains.

The characters in question -Iroh, Azula, Jet and Hama- are all flawed and well-rounded in a believable way. But how the narrative treats them is unequal.

General Iroh is an ex-colonizer who gets to redeem himself and not answer for his past war crimes, living a peaceful life as a tea shop owner. The only reason Iroh changed was when he was personally affected by the negativity of their military subjugation -his son’s death. It wasn’t the harm of the Fire nation ravaging Earth kingdom villages or cities and affecting millions of people that opened his eyes.

Azula, the tyrannical daughter, had closure of her mother's rejection when she was a child and was able to escape imprisonment.

Jet and Hama, victims of colonization who have done bad things, did not get similar conclusions to their stories OR compensation for what they have gone through from the Fire Nation's colonization.

Jet was given a second chance but was arrested for trying to expose Zuko and Iroh being firebenders -firebenders who were their enemies for conquering their villages. Then he died from the injuries of the person who had brainwashed and mind-controlled him.

Hama was imprisoned for life.

Compared to the sins of the light-skinned colonizers, the narrative didn’t give Jet and Hama the development where they could heal from their trauma, receive compensation for what happened to them and really have a chance in life.

The dark-skinned victims of colonization just became a lesson to the viewers how they shouldn’t hold grudges for being colonized. The end. They have received consequences for their actions but there is no continuation to their stories after that.

It almost seems like the narrative is saying that because they have harmed colonizers who have no part in their trauma (and in Jet’s case, some Earth kingdom villagers), they are therefore unworthy to be given an actual chance in life.

While Azula and Iroh, who have actively participated in conquering, colonizing and attacking the Earth Kingdom itself, were.

Someone once said that if indigenous people have control over Hama’s story, it would have been done differently. But the ATLA crew are white, non-indigenous people who prioritized redeeming colonizers instead.

The narrative has also affected how the ATLA fandom thinks. If most fans are asked who they would want to be redeemed, the popular option would be Azula over Jet or Hama.

Once again, I don’t think the ATLA crew noticed it due to their racial bias. But still, the harm is done and the racially biased message is continued:

The colonizers and their descendants don’t have to make amends for the colonizers’ crimes. Or if they do, only lightly since it’s in the past (no matter how recent that past is).

The colonized who rebel will tend to hurt innocent people and then get a grisly end for getting in way over their heads.

I would venture as far as to say that the narrative may have the added subconscious desire to quiet their white anxiety on the vengeance of the colonized. As I have learned when writing about Vodou stereotypes and how they have stemmed from the history of white anxiety of Black vengeance, of Black fetishization and of dissolution of the white race through intermarriages.

In @visibilityofcolor’s blog, someone asked:

“So I saw some of the really heated debates on here and on twitter about how if Iroh and Azula can be portrayed sympathetically despite their actions then characters like Jet and Hama should've been given a chance too. Do you think that the writers understood the implications of only redeeming characters from the colonizer/fascist nation but not giving the characters who suffered because of their fascism a second chance too?”

To which VisibilityOfColor replied:

“No, because at the end of the day, the writers are white. When it comes to stuff like this, it’s no surprise when we see white writers redeem problematic characters before they actually redeem victims of those racist problematic characters. For instance, Dave Filioni, who worked on both avatar and star wars rebels, did the same thing when redeeming agent kallus who was an soldiers in the imperial army and took credit for a genocide. where as victims of the empire were still painted in negative lights. i really don’t think they understand.

They have this ‘be the better person’ view on things, which is what a lot of white people tend to emulate when it comes to people of color standing up to their oppressors. and unfortunately, these are ideas passed on to children, esp minorities. that they should forgive people and communities who hurt them and ‘be the better person’. this is why white ppl don’t need to write narratives for people of color.”

Example #3: The Narrative Favors the Light Skinned Character Than Dark Skinned Character in Similar Situations

I would like to reiterate that racial bias in storytelling is often not intentional. I am not saying the creators and the people who support them are bad people. No.

However, I encourage that once a racial bias is made known in our work, it is our responsibility to change them to stop the perpetuation of its harmful message.

Hazbin Hotel is a popular cartoon with whimsical designs and its concept opens the conversation about redemption. The creator, Vivziepop may not have noticed the racial bias in her cartoon as a white Latina [5] that grew up with and benefits from white privileges, along with the Hazbin crew.

In the Youtbe video, "Hazbin Hotel - How Art took over Writing", Staxlotl states:

“I understand that there was a lot of time and effort put into this pilot, almost three years worth of effort. But I think most of that time was spent into the art and visuals when it should’ve gone into polishing the writing in the characters.”[6]

Once again, I’m not here to critique the characters but how the narrative treats its dark-skinned characters.

The story treats Charlie, the white-skinned, “Disney-esque” protagonist princess differently from how it treats Vaggie, the dark-skinned, more outspoken and protective Latina girlfriend of Charlie who supports the princess’ cause.

In its pilot episode, both girls experience humiliation. While Charlie is portrayed by the story as someone the viewers have to feel sorry for...

...Vaggie is portrayed in her humiliation as the butt of the joke for the viewers.

While they both didn’t like what Angel Dust did, Charlie was sympathized over in the narrative as a moment...

...while Vaggie’s angry but valid callouts were dismissed and ignored as part of the comedy.

While Charlie was someone that needs to be protected in the narrative...

...Vaggie is left to fend for herself.

Again, I don’t think the creators noticed the racial bias of their cartoon. However, this racial bias is reflected in the harmful perceptions that dark-skinned women, particularly Black women and Black girls, are more mature, tougher and need less protection at a young age.[7]

This adultification bias perceives them as challenging authority when they express strong or contrary views and are then given harsher discipline than white girls who misbehave.[8] And this continues when they grow up.

In a 2017 study, Black women and girls aged 12-60 years old confirmed they are treated harsher by their white peers and are accused of being aggressive when they would defend themselves or explain their point of view to authority figures.[8]

This bias also coincides with the Spicy Latina trope of a brown-skinned, hot-blooded, quick-tempered and passionate woman.

Everyday Feminism described this trope as "Although objects of desire for many, the spicy Latina may have too much personality to handle. So much so that she is often viewed as domineering or emasculating." [16]

Sounds familiar? (Look at Angry Black Woman trope above.)

Why is it that a light-skinned character, Charlie, is allowed to be vulnerable and be sympathized while the dark-skinned Latina character, Vaggie, is mocked, dismissed and expected to tough it out?

Severina Ware had to remind the world in her article that relates to the bias against dark skinned characters:

“Black women are not offered the protection and gentleness of our white counterparts. We are not given permission to be soft and delicate. We are required to exhibit strength and fortitude not only because our lives depend on it, but because so many others depend on us. Black women should not be charged with the responsibility of saving everyone when nobody is here to save us.”[12]

As @cullenvhenan of Tumblr has said in her post:

“if you're a white creator and your brown/black characters are always sassy, reckless, aggressive or cold and your white characters are always soft, demure, shy and introverted you should think about maybe why you did that”

(Image above from Iowa Law Reviews’ “Aggressive Encounters & White Fragility: Deconstructing the Trope of the Angry Black Woman”)

Detecting Your Own Racial Bias

It would be hard. No matter how much you edit and create, you may miss it because it was never your experience.

So how do we prevent our racial bias from creeping into our creations?

Listen to POC and their feedback.

As @charishjb from Instagram has shared, here is one of the things that we can do (tumblr link here) [9]:

Consider POC voices. Listen to their experiences. Hire sensitivity POC readers. Put multiple POC voices in positions of leadership in creative projects.

Then we can stop the racial bias that perpetuates again and again in the media. I hope for that future.

#racial bias #racism #colorism #animation #steven universe #su #pearl #garnet #atla #azula #general iroh #jet #hama #hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #lynching mention #lynching tw #writeblr #artblr

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comedicreliefonlyworkswhenfunny · 3 years ago

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I am against the "Americanization" of fandoms.

What this applies to

Holding non American characters (and sometimes even fans) to an American moral standard. This includes

Refusing to take into account that, first things first, America is NOT the target audience, so certain tropes that would or would not pass in the west are different in Japan.

Like seriously, quite a few of the jokes are just not going to pass or hit, because they require background information that is not universal.

Assuming all American experience is standard. (This could mean watering down just how much pressure is placed on Japanese youth irl by saying that sort of thing is universal (while it is, to a degree, Japanese suicide rates are pretty fucking high because of how fast paced and work heavy some of their loads tend to be), and it's really annoying and rude when someone is trying to speak out about how heavy and harsh the standards are placed on them to succeed just for some American whose mom occasionally yells at them to do their homework dropping by to say "it's like that everywhere")

Demonizing (or wubbifying) a character using American morals, including and up to harassing fans over their interpretations or gatekeeping whether or not a character "should" get development (while you shouldn't do that fucking period, it's rude and annoying- this is specifically for the people who use American standards without acknowledging the cultural gap between them and, you know, the fucking target audience) ((Like seriously, saying "It's different in Japan" is not the end all be all excusing someone's actions, but sometimes the author didn't immediately think that maybe (insert vaguely universal thing) was that bad or that heavy of a topic before they put it into their media. If you don't want to see things like that? Pick a different series and stop harassing the fans))

Getting mad at or making fun of Japan's attempts to satirize their own culture. (A good example is Ace Attorney! To most of us, it's just a funny laugh can you imagine if courts were actually like that- guess what? Japan's are! (Not that America's are actually that much better, they just look good on paper))

Making America/American issues the center of your fan spaces

(Usually without sharing or bringing light to the issues that other countries are going through)

Your

Experiences

Are

Not

Univseral!

Seriously, very few things across America, even, are universal. Texas things the hundreds are nothing while Minnesota's like "oh it's only thirty degrees below zero"- so for fucks sake, stop assuming that all other countries work in ways similar to America.

It's good and important to share Ameican issues with your American followers, but guess what? America isn't the only country out there, and it's certainly not the only one going through bullshit. Don't pull shit like "why's no one reblogging this?" or "why should I care about what's happening in (X country)?"

Don't assume everyone lives in America.

Stop assuming everyone lives in America.

America is not and has never been the target audience for anime, and it's certainly not the only country outside of Japan that enjoys it.

Like I said above, sometimes Japan attempts to satirize its own culture. We can't tell what is and isn't meant as satire, because it's not our culture.

Social media activism can be tiring and maybe you don't have the energy to focus on things that are out of your control, but, if someone tells you about the shit they're going through, don't bring American politics up.

For the neurodivergent crowd out there thinking, "But why?" it's because a lot of social media, especially, is very heavily Americanized- sometimes to the point where people assume that everyone is American. Not to mention, it's disheartening. I'm sorry to say, but you're not actually relating to the conversation, you're often diverting the focus away from the topic at hand. Even if you mean well, America is heavily pedestaled and talked about frequently, and people from other countries are tired of America taking precedent over their own issues.

Don't divert non-American issues into American ones. Seriously. It's not your place. Please just support the original issue or move on.

Racist Bullshit

This especially goes for islanders and South Asian characters, as well as poc characters (because, yes, Japan DOES have black people)

Making "funny" racist headcanons. Not fucking cool.

Changing the canon interpretation of an explicit character of color in order to fit racist stereotypes.

Whitewashing or color draining characters. Different artistic skill sets can be hard, yes, but are you seriously going to look at someone and say "I don't feel like accurately portraying you or people that look like you, because it's difficult for me." If someone tries to correct you on your cultural depiction of a character and/or their life style, don't be an ass. (If possible, it would be nice for those that do the corrections to be polite as well, but it does get really frustrating).

Seriously, no offense guys, but, if you want to persue art, you're going to need to learn to depict different body types, skin colors, and/or ethnic features.

On that note, purposefully, willingly, or consistently inaccurately portraying people or characters of color (especially if someone in the fandom has "called you out" or specifically told you that what you're doing comes across as racist and you continue to do it). If you need help or suck at looking things up, there are references for you! Ask your followers if they have tutorials on poc (issue that you're having), whether it be bodily portrayal, facial proportions, or coloring and shading. Art is so much more fun when you can depict a wider variety, and guess what? Before you drew the same skinny, basic, white character over and over, you couldn't even draw that!

Attempting or claiming to DEPECT CULTURAL ACCURACY within a work or meta, while being completely fucking wrong. ESPECIALLY and specifically if someone calls you out, and you refuse to fix, correct, or change anything.

*little side note that the discussion revolving art is a very multilayered conversation, and it has quite a few technical potholes, which I'll bring up again farther into this post.

Fucking history

Stop demonizing or for absolute fucks sake wubbifying Japanese history because UwU Japan ♡0♡ or bringing up shit like "you know they sided with Nazis, right?" It's good to recognize poor past decisions, but literally it's not your country keep your nose out of it. And? A lot of decisions made by countries were not made by their general peoples. Even those that were, often involved heavy propaganda that made them think what they were doing was right.

Seriously, it's not your country, not your history. Unless you have some sort of higher education (but honestly even then a lot of those contain heavy bias), just don't butt in.

^^^ this also goes to all countries that are NOT Japan (specifically when people from non American countries talk about their history while in fandoms and someone wants to Amerisplain to them why "well, actually-"). When we said, "question your sources," we didn't mean "question the people who know better than you, while blindly accepting the (more than likely biased) education you were given in the past."

What this does NOT include:

Fanfiction

FANfiction

FanFICTION

FANFICTION.

Seriously, fanfiction is literally UNPAID WORK from RANDOM FANS- a lot of which who are or have started as kids. ((No, I'm not trying to excuse racist depictions of people just because they're free, please see above where I talk about learning to grow a skill and how it's possible tone bad and get good, on top of the fact that some inaccuracies are not just willful ignorance))

"Looking it up" doesn't work

"Looking it up" almost never works

Please, for fucks sake, you know that most all online search engines are heavily biased, right? Not to mention, not everything is universal across the entirety of Japan. You want to look up how the school system works in Hokkaido? Well it's different from the ones in Osaka!

Most fanfiction is meant to be an idealized version of the world. Homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, ableism, and racism are very prevalent and heavy topics that some fan authors would prefer to avoid. (Keep in mind, this is also used by some people in those minorities often because thinking about how relevant those kinds of things are is to them every day).

A lot of shit that happens in writing is purely because it's an ideal setting. I've seen a few arguments recently about how fan authors portray Japanese schools wrong- listen, I can't tell you how many random school systems I have pulled from my ass purely because (I need them to interact at these points, in these ways). Sometimes the only compliment I can think of is 'I like your shirt' or sometimes I need character A to realize that character B likes the same thing as they do, so I might ignore the fact that most all Japanese schools require uniforms, so that I can put my character in a shirt that will get someone else's attention.

Sometimes it's difficult to find information on different types of systems, and sometimes when you DO know those things, they directly rule out a plot point that needs to happen (like back on the topic of schools (from what I've seen/heard/read- which guess what? Despite being from multiple sources, might still be inaccurate!) Japanese schools don't have mandatory elective classes (outside of like gym and most of them usually learn English or another language- I've seen stuff about art classes? But the information across the board varies.), but, if I need my character to walk in and see someone completely in their element, I'm probably not going to try and gun for accuracy or make up a million and two reasons as to why this (non elective) person would possibly need something from (elective teacher) after school of all things.)

Some experiences ARE universal- or at least overlap American and Japanese norms! Like friends going to fast food places after school doesn't /sound Japanese/ or whatever, but it's not like a horrible inaccuracy to say that your characters ate at McDonald's because they were hungry. Especially when you consider that the Japanese idolization of American "culture" is also a thing.

Also I saw someone complaining about how, in December, a lot of (usually westerners) write Christmas fics! Well, not only are quite a few of those often gift fics, with it being the season if giving and all, but Japanese people do celebrate Christmas! Not as "the birth of Christ," but rather as a popularized holiday about gift giving (also pst: America isn't the only place that celebrates Christmas)

But, on that note, sometimes things like Holidays are "willfully ignorant" of what actually happens (I've made this point several times, but (also this does by no means excuse actual racism)), because, again: plot convenience! Hey what IF they celebrated Halloween by Trick or Treating? What if Easter was a thing and they got to watch their kids or younger siblings crawl around on the ground looking for tiny plastic eggs?

Fanfiction authors can put in hours of work for one or two thousand words- let alone ten thousand words, fifty thousand words, a hundred thousand words. And all of these are free. There is absolutely no (legal) way to make money off of their fanworks, but they spent hours, days, weeks, months- sometimes even years- writing. It is so unnecessary to EXPECT or REQUIRE them to spend even more hours looking up shit that, no offense, almost no one is going to notice. No one is going go care that all of my combini prices are accurate or that I wrote a fic with a Japanese map of a train station that I had to backwards search three times to find an English version that I could read.

Not everyone has the attention span or ability to spend hours of research before writing a single word. Neurodivergent people are literally a thing yall. Instead of producing the perfectly pretty accurate version of Japan that people want to happen, what ACTUALLY happens is that the writer reads and reads and reads and either never finds the information they need or they lose the motivation to write.

^^^ (This does NOT apply to indigenous or native peoples, like Pacific Islanders or tribes that exist in real life. Please make sure that you portray tribal minorities accurately. If you can't find the information you need (assuming that the content of the series is not specifically about a tribe), please just make one up (and for fucks sake, recognize that a lot of what you've been taught about tribal practices, such as shit like human sacrifices or godly worship, is actually just propaganda.)

Not to mention, it often puts a wall in front of readers who would then need to pull up their OWN information (that may or may not be biased) just in order to interact with the fic ((okay, this one has a little bit of arguability when it comes to things like measurements and currency, because Americans don't know what a meter is and no one else knows what a foot is- either way, one of yall is going to have to look up measurements if they want to get a better understanding of the fic)). However, a lot of Americans who do write using 'feet, Fahrenheit, dollars,' also write for their American followers or friends (which really could go both ways).

On a less easily arguable side, most fic readers aren't going to open up a new tab just to search everything that the author has written (re the whole deep topics, not everyone wants to read about those sorts of things, either). Not only are you making it more difficult on the writer, but you're also making it more difficult for the reader who's now wondering why you decided to add in Grandma's Katsudon recipe, and whether or not the details you have added are accurate.

Some series, themselves, ignore Japanese norms! Piercings, hair dye, and incorrectly wearing ones uniform are frowns upon in Japanese schools- sometimes up to inflicting punishment on those students because of it. However, some anime characters still have naturally or dyed blond hair some of them still have piercings or wear their uniforms wrong. Some series aren't set specifically in Japan, but rather in a vague based-off-real-life Japan that's just slightly different (like Haikyuu and all of its different prefectures). Sometimes they're based on real places, but real places that have gone through major changes (like the Hero Academia series with its quirks and shit).

Fandom is not a full time job. Please stop treating it like it is one. Most people in fandoms have to engage in other things like school or work that most definitely take precident over frantically Googling the cultural implications of dying your hair pink in Japan.

Art is also meant to be a creative freedom and is almost always a hobby, so there are a few cracks that tend to spark debate. Like I said, it is still a hobby, something that's meant to be fun (on this note!)

If trying new things and expanding your portfolio is genuinely making you upset, it's okay to take a break from it. You're not going to get it right on the first try and please, please to everyone out there critiquing artists' works, please take this into account before you post things.

I'm sorry to say, but, while it gets frustrating to see the same things done wrong over and over again, some people are genuinely trying. If it matters enough for you to point out, please offer solutions or resources that would possibly help the artist do better (honestly this could be said about a lot of online activism). I get that they should "want" to do better (and maybe they don't and your annoyance towards them is completely justified- again, as I said, if this becomes a repeated offense and they don't listen to or care about the people trying to help them, yeah you can be a bitch if it helps you feel better- just please don't assume that everyone is willfully ignorant of how hurtful/upsetting/annoying a certain way of portraying things is), but also WANTING to do better and ACTUALLY doing better are two different things.

Maybe they didn't realize what they were doing was inaccurate. Maybe they didn't have the right tutorials. Maybe they tried to look it up, but that failed them. Either way, to some- especially neurodivergent artists- just being told that their work is bad or racist or awful isn't going to make them want to search for better resources in order to be more accurate, it's just going to make them give up.

Also! In fic and in writing, no one is going to get it right on the first try. Especially at the stage where we creators ARE merely in fan spaces is a great time to "fuck around and find out", before we bring our willfully or accidentally racist shit into monetized media. Absolutely hold your fan creators to higher standards, but literally fan work has so little actual impact on popular media (and this goes for just about every debate about fan spaces), and constructive criticism as well as routine practice can mean worlds for representation in future media. NOT allowing for mistakes in micro spaces like fandoms is how you get genuinely harmful or just... bad... portrayals of minorities in popularized media that DOES have an impact on the greater public. OR you get a bunch of creators who are too afraid to walk out of their own little bubbles, because what if they get it wrong and everyone turns against them. It's better to just "stick with what they know" (hobbies are something that you are meant to get better at, even if that is a slow road- for all of my writers and artists out there, it does take time, but you will get it. To everyone else, please do speak up about things that are wrong, but don't make it all about what's wrong and please don't be rude. It's frustrating on both ends, so, if you can, please try not to escalate the situation more.)

Anyways, I'm tired of everyone holding fictional characters to American Puritanical standards, but I'm also tired of seeing every "stop Americanizing fandom" somehow loop into fanfiction and how all authors who don't make their fics as accurate as possible are actually just racist and perpetuating or enabling America's take over of the world or some shit.

Fan interpretation of published media is different than fan creation of mon monetized media. Americans dominating or monopolizing spaces meant for all fans (especially in a fandom that was never meant for them to begin with) is annoying and can be harmful sometimes. Americans writing out their own personal experience using random fictional characters (more often than not) isn't.

#just google it #better represent real life #if you tell a fic reader to ngl you're being pretty ableist and don't really have a good idea of how search engines work #also when people DO try to make culturally accurate fics often times at least one or two people will pop in and say 'actually that's wrong'#not to mention sometimes they might not even be right to begin with...#and okay once or twice it is what it is #but seriously if this keeps happening over and over most people are just going to stop writing or caring #fanfiction #fanfiction is literally free #fanfiction is free labor #adding layers upon layers of research and knowledge needed- on top of how difficult it can be to portray human emotion #it's not going to it's just going to make once starry eyed writers loss their ability to enjoy their work #and guess what #some ACTUALLY racist (or homophobic or transphobic or misogynistic) writer is going to swoop in not giving two fucks #and they're going to go on and get their work published because they don't care about accuracy

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bump1nthen1ght · 4 years ago

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Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 2

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Gender Fluid!Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of past trauma

Word Count: 3165 words

Summary: You spend a day with your new companion

Chapter 1

“How about this one? It looks rather ripe.”

No, Mistress. The air of decay lingers around it, I fear it will begin showing signs of mold within a day.

“Oh, good eye.” You set the orange down, making sure to hide it away so no other unlucky customer may buy it, wiping your hands on your skirt. “What about this one?”

That one’s fine.

“Sweet.” You say, adding it to the pile of fruit accumulating in your arm. You double check the list. “Alright, I think that’s about everything.” You come up to the stand-worker and set down your fruits on their scale, finagling for the wallet in your pocket.

So many different types of produce. Is this merchant’s estate really so large that they can grow all these things?

“Uh, not exactly.” You mutter, before reminding yourself to speak inwards, as only you can hear the demon lingering nearby. “They actually represent several farms, giving them a cut of the money so the workers can focus on cultivation. Some farms have their own stalls for specialized goods, but these bigger ones are typically conglomerates.” After successfully grabbing your coin purse, you hand the worker some coins and begin loading your bag.

Ah, how convenient.

“Yes, I’d say so.” You once again check your list, mentally checking off the needed groceries. “Okay, I believe that is all the essential stuff. How about we check out some novelty stalls? I hear there’s a fine jewelry maker near the center of town.”

The only jewelry in the Nine Hells is that forged by the damned. Carved out of the husk of dead dimensions.

“So, is that a yes?”

Yes please.

“Cool.”

As you walk along the thinning market crowd, dodging between bakers and families, your shadow twists and turns. Occasionally and discreetly, it will fall behind you and stare at a particularly interesting stall, before leaping back into the darkness and reattaching to your feet. The crowd is so focused on their eye-level, what to be bought, who to sell to, no one really notices the abnormality.

After that night, that horrible night, you woke up in your bed; Sweaty and exhausted, but nonetheless harmed. Your mother had rushed to your side with a pitcher of water, relieved that your fever had finally broken. You had been asleep for a whole 24 hours, your parents finding you in your bed after you didn’t come down to breakfast. Your temperature ran high and you had tossed and turned with some kind of night terror, but recovered rather quickly.

After you had shoo’d your mother away, accepting the large breakfast and assuring her you were fine, the demon had appeared from behind the door frame. You nearly threw a fork right at its face.

-----------

“So that was….It wasn’t just a nightmare?” You muttered, eyes lost in your bowl of cheese grits.

“Yes, my mistress, it was real.” The demon steps out from the shadow of the door, causing you to flinch as their long horns scrape against the low ceiling of your room. They take another step back. “Your body gave out after you spoke your demand. I do apologize for the intrusion, but I searched your mind to find your home and brought you back to your own bed. Was that a correct assumption?”

You nod, shakily stirring your spoon, absentminded. You force your eyes to meet the demon’s, trying to contain your quivers.

“And now-” You gulp, keeping what little composure you have left, “-are you here to collect?”

The demon quirks their head, horns audibly scratching the hardwood. Their brow furrows as they contemplate, before their eyes widen with understanding. They shake their head and take another step forward. You clench your fingers around the blanket, but hold your flinch.

“No, mistress. You are not in debt to me, not in any way. That is not the ritual which was performed.”

You quirk your eyebrows, befuddled. “But, I thought that-”

“The wish you made was not so heavy to require the payment of a soul. Nor would you have been able to make such a wish in the first place.” Without you realizing it, the demon had walked over to your bed. Their staggering height should be intimidating, but the intonation of their words and the look in their eye is calming. Almost reassuring. “The payment was made when you gave me this permanent physical form.” The demon explains, flexing their fingers and faintly tracing the lines of your bedpost. “By pushing your body to the brink of death, you were able to reach across the veil and pull me through . Usually, a soul-paying ritual brings a demon temporarily to the mortal realm, to enact the wish and then take their payment. The summoning spell you performed takes a much stronger mind and body; Not only to bounce back from death, but to carry a new weight with you.”

The demon slowly sets to its knees, laying it’s head down on your blanket. “In that way, I am indebted to you, my mistress, for taking such risks to bring me here.”

You blanch, words escaping you as this massive creature pledges fealty to you. When your vocabulary finally returns to your brain, you shake your hands furiously.

“T-thank you, for your kind words and your help. But you don't need to. I mean, I-I have no want to force you to stay with me. I didn’t even fully understand what I was doing-”

“That is not a requirement, mistress. And you are not forcing me to stay, I want to stay.”

The demon urges, picking its head back up from the quilt. “If it is your wish, however, I can stay in the shadows and not bother you, protect you from afar. I wouldn’t wish to interfere.”

You shake your head once more. “No! No, that won’t be necessary. That sounds even worse, to be honest.” You mutter, picking at the quilt squares with your fingers.

The silence lingers. The Demon, still looking at you in admiration. It’s irises glow even in the soft-morning light, their pupils a deep void amidst the unnatural yellow.

“Well, I am going to eat. Feel free to….look around.” You say, gesturing to your tiny bedroom. The demon nods, slowly retreating from your bedside to the corner, eyes darting around the wallpaper until eventually settling on your dresser and small vanity.

You eat, taking hesitant bites as you watch them wander towards your things, taking the time to observe your minimal decorations. You had a tiny book collection, some knick knacks you had gotten from town or your parent’s travels, and a myriad of plants on your window sill.

The demon hadn’t shown any ill intent, not in their actions nor in their tone, but you still weren’t sure. You had heard stories of tricksters, who lure you in with false promises and sweet lies.

If four young men could do it so easily, imagine what a demon could accomplish.

You shake their faces out of your heads, brushing off the imaginary fingertips clutched around your arms. It’s over; You are safe, in your bed. God knows what happened to them. You fight away that thought as well.

As you slowly finish your breakfast, the Demon is looking at the cover of one of your books. Technically it’s an encyclopedia, filled with all the different types of marine flora and fauna. Your mother had gotten it for your birthday three years ago.

“Umm...demon?”

They pause, setting down the book and looking at you.

“Yes, mistress?”

“I was just wondering, since you’re going to be here for the foreseeable future, what should I call you?” They’re brow furrows, head tilting like that of a befuddled pet.

“I had not really considered that, mistress. Is it important?”

You scratch the back of your neck, avoiding their piercing gaze. “Not particularly, I guess. It just feels a bit rude to acknowledge you only as ‘The Demon’.”

The Demon’s face scrunches up, still confused. “In the Nine Hells, I was referred to by my title, I do not see anything wrong with that. It is a correct statement to call me a demon.”

“Well, maybe. I guess up here, your own name is personal. Something that defines you, a part of yourself. Kind of like the way you look, or how you present yourself.” You say, mussing up your bed sheets in an effort to calm your nerves.

The demon pinches their face once more, eyes darting to the book laying upon the desk.

“Is Captain a military rank in this plane as well?” The say, claws tracing the engraved title of the encyclopedia. Sort of confused by the change of subject, you glance towards the book cover. Captain Amelia’s Guide to the Unknown of the Ocean.

“Yes, but it also describes the heads of ships. Those who sail across the seas, discovering new things or dealing in trade. Pretty sure the only requirement is a boat, not a military career.”

The Demon hums, eyes still locked on the cover, decorated by a painting of a large ship, locked in combat with a Kraken.

“Then I think I’d like to be called Captain.”

You nod, fingers still entangled in your bed sheets. Captain looks back to you, sending a calming smile. As calming as a creature with more canines than a wolf can be. Your own smile is shaky, still wary of what is to come.

--------

That was about a week and a half ago now, Captain staying by you as you rested. Your parents only allowed you to help around the house after 3 days of solid bed rest, most of which you spent reading, crocheting, or talking with Captain. When they went off to work, you gave Captain a tour of the house, showing them all the tools of the kitchen and the apothecary.

Their presence had quickly become commonplace, your body no longer jolting when you caught a glimpse of the dark figure in the corner. You two would chit-chat and entertain each other, but knew when to give the other space.

Captain also demonstrated their shape-shifting ability, although it was not as dramatic as you had read about in grimoires. Mostly it was a day-to-day tiny change, one you had learned to acknowledge and inquire how they would like to be referred to as. Captain had been a little bemused by the limitations of your pronouns, but was rather swift in adapting to a strategy which best suited them.

It was nice, if a little bit strange. Although you weren’t sure if the two of you could be considered friends just yet, if not for the short time or them being a Demon bound to you by a blood contract, but you were definitely closer than acquaintances. Comrades, ship mates? You still didn’t know. But as the domestic days dragged on, you find you’re not afraid to find out.

---------

What animal is this, Mistress?

“I believe it’s a seal? Or a sea lion, could never tell the difference, if I’m being honest.” You say, fingers brushing over the wooden charm hanging off the market shelf. It’s small, the details defining but rudimentary.

You have lions which live in the sea? How fiersome.

“Not actual lions, but I’m sure they could put up a good fight. Are there any oceans in the Nine Hells?”

No. Not ones made out of water anyway; Usually its blood or other excrement.

“...Oh.” You mutter, shoving that image out of your mind. Captain didn’t often talk about their home plane, only offering terrifying details that made sense of why they so desperately wanted to escape. As curious as the thought of another dimension was to you, you tried to avoid the topic all together. Captain didn’t seem to mind.

Looking at the small charm, with it’s adorable, puppy like face, you gesture towards the shopkeep.

“How much for this?”

“Only two silver, miss.”

You look down at your spare grocery change, sending a tiny glance to your shadow.

“Would you like this, Captain? We’ve got the coin for it.”

There’s a brief silence, your shadow staying uncannily still.

….For what purpose, Mistress?

You shrug, tapping the dangling charm and watching how it twirls. “No purpose. It’s just rather cute, and well…” You brush a finger over the woodwork, feeling the tiny indentations carved, “If you’re going to be staying with me, you should have some stuff of your own, right? Seems only fair.”

There’s another pause, long enough that you risk another glance at the shade. Even without any definitive form, it looks pensive.

Yes, I would like it, Mistress.

You nod, quickly passing the silver. From the corner of your eye, your shadow seems to perk up. As you pull away from the stall, you slyly drop the charm down and into the darkness, the demon leaping out a hand to catch it. From inside your mind, the warm feeling of contentment and excitement resonates like an undercurrent, bringing a smile to your face. You can picture Captain fiddling with the toy in their massive paws, eyes alight. Butterflies flutter to life in your stomach.

Thank you, Mistress. I would not have thought such a tiny thing would bring me such happiness.

You shake your head.

“It’s no problem. If you see anything you like, let me know.”

You’re jolted out of your mind when by a large splash, a woman squealing as mud clings to her skirt, and a young man scrambles to his feet.

“And stay in the mud, you low-life pig!”

“B-But Jezebel, I-I can explain!”

“Explain what, exactly?” A small crowd is beginning to form around the commotion, but you find yourself frozen to your spot, thoughts thrown all over the place.

Three women, all beautiful, stand in the small entryway of a house. At the bottom, now covered in mud, is Richard.

“That you’re cheating scum? That you don’t deserve our time?” The first woman shouts, gesturing to the two others. She’s making a scene and she knows it, reveling in her screaming and his embarrassment. “And I’m not Jezebel, you idiot! I’m Viola!” She nothing short of screeches, leaning down and hurling a chunk of dirt at Richard. The other women huff in agreement, looking at him with disgust and spitting at his feet.

A low murmur has fallen over the crowd, gossip thriving as the women stamp their heels and Viola huffs back into the house. The door is slammed shut, the focus of everyone’s eyesight on Richard.

He looks haggard, dark circles and greasy hair indicating he hasn’t slept, at least slept well, in the last few days. His clothes, usually refined and tucked in, were loose and nearly tearing. Amidst the chattering group of people, remnants of conversations linger into your ears.

“They made the right decision, shipping him off.”

“Honestly, it was about time. A cocky brat like that needs some discipline beaten into him. I’ve heard Ivy’s Military School is ranked top in the country.”

“God knows he will need it. The boy hasn’t had class since he learned how to speak.”

The belittlement, the desperate look in Richards eye, looking for sympathy, should enthrall you. That knot of satisfaction should burst, reaping the reward of your suffering, revel in his despair.

But everything about this pitiful man terrifies you.

You nearly drop your groceries, pushing away bodies as you flee the scene, barely finding time to breathe. Your shadow has trouble keeping up with you, bending between foot steps and keeping track of your shape as you dart away, away, away.

You find solace in a dark alleyway, but peace still escapes you. Your heart and brain pound with pure adrenaline, finding purchase on a nearby wall as black spots dot your vision.

All you can see are Richard’s dirt filled fingernails, dragging across your throat, pushing you down. His knee digs into your back as you kneel on wet ground, the cold metal of a knife pressed against your neck, dangerously close to your racing pulse point.

Your shadow shifts and grows, Captain’s shape stepping out of your large shadow, taking tentative steps towards your quivering form. Your knees soon give out, sending you to the ground, but they catch you just in time. You barely feel the contrast of soft fur compared to rough concrete, curling up into a fetal position as you try to force the images from your mind.

Captain sinks down, claws petting your back. With a small voice, they instruct you calmly.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like that, mistress.”

The simple instructions give you something to focus on, something other than your fractured mind. You instinctively curl into their chest, their warm fur brushing against your cheek as you shove your face against them. Your eyes are clenched tight and you cling onto their shoulders, chest wracked with your heaving sighs. But the deep baritone of their whispers and affirmations slowly seep into your haze, pushing out the memories.

You continue to breathe in and out, Captain’s warm hands caressing your waist as they hum lightly. They tuck their chin above yours, their hot breathes blowing across your skull.

“It is alright, ____. You can do this, you are safe. I am here for you.” They mutter.

In minutes that feel like hours, your heart rate slows down, your mind loses it’s buzz. Captain hums an unfamiliar tune as they continue to cradle you, claws drawing shapes into your back while rocking your back and forth.

When you finally feel aware, present in the moment, you wipe away the tear tracks running down your face.

“Captain?” You whisper.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Can we go home, please?”

They nod, standing with you still in your arms.

“Of course, my dear.”

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

You unload groceries automatically, muscles and spirit tired after your crying fit. Captain helps, making sure to stay in the periphery and out of sight of your parents.

You give an excuse to them, explaining that the heat got to you, and collapse onto your bed. Captain lingers in the corner, poised for a command.

“Captain?” You mutter, fingers twirling a thread tassel on one of your pillows. They look up from their position. “Thank you, for being there for me. Today and…..last time.”

They nod, taking small steps towards your bed. Once close enough, they lightly wrap one of their fingers around yours, petting your knuckles.

“Of course, ____. I will always be there for you.”

You nod, a small smile crawling its way across your lips. You slip your palm into theirs, feeling their calloused finger pads, pulling them slightly closer to your form. Your eyes dart up to theirs. With a small blush, you whisper,

“And I will always be there for you.” Captain’s eyes slightly widen, but a large grin appears, a hint of their fangs glinting from behind their black fur.

“Thank you, ____.”

#monster romance #monster x reader #demon #demon x reader #female reader #reader insert #my writing

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beesbeesbees · 2 years ago

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On scope

So in my last post I mentioned scope, which is a gamedev term to mean how big your game is and, more specifically, keeping it from getting out of control. Not putting too much work on your plate, basically.

This is especially important for an amateur developer who is just starting to get into game development. Like me!

I’ve heard this a lot, but this video I watched recently helps sum it up really well. In that video they mention the concept of a “minimum viable product”. Basically, if you cut away everything that isn’t necessary, what does that look like? And is it fun?

Another video I watched related it to drawing. When you’re drawing, you do a sketch to give you an idea of the final picture, work out anatomy issues, etc. The minimum viable product is the “sketch” of your game.

So what does my sketch look like?

Here’s my “Core Features” list, or what I believe is the simplest form of this game in a “complete state”. This is a little more indepth than the video’s proposed “minimum viable product” - the example given was Mario jumping on a map with pits. No enemies, no powerups. This is more like Mario jumping on a map with pits and enemies and the occasional platform or mushroom.

To simplify it further would probably be “you have a daughter, and you can raise or lower her stats through picking between three jobs, and you can reduce her stress by resting.”

What I found really helpful was to add questions to every item. What would these actually look like? This got me thinking about the actual implementation.

(To be very clear about point 4, this was written when I was envisioning it more as making homunculi, where you could potentially create bespoke assistants for the needs of folks in town. You can’t sell kids in my game.)

Anything that did NOT feel essential was moved to a separate list. Things like missions, randomization, talking to the girls, a New Game+ system, that sort of thing. Nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary.

That said, I also created this:

This is “Core QOL”. QOL stands for “quality of life”, meaning optional features that make a game smoother and easier to play - think of an autosave system, being able to auto-sort items in an inventory, etc. Features that, while technically unnecessary, I consider to be a priority.

For example, you don’t NEED to be able to give your daughters custom names. I could just make it so that your daughters’ names are randomized. Technically speaking, it’s an optional feature!

But there’s something really special about custom names, I think. Sentimentality is what separates these games from being just a series of bars you watch go up and down. You’re forming an emotional bond with a character that you’re taking a parental role over, and it helps you feel more invested in the gameplay.

It might seem a little silly, but here’s an example of that sentimentality in action: I always name my Pokemon. I feel a lot more connected to what’s going on when I’m rooting for “WIDE LOAD” instead of “Parasect”. Suddenly, it’s not just a soulless collection of pixels that attacks when I pick the option - it’s my baby boy, WIDE LOAD, who I risked life and limb to catch even if he was 20 levels above me at the time.

And I love him so, so much.

Getting back to my list, you can see there’s a lot of “you can view the stats whenever”. Let me give some examples.

In Princess Maker 2, doing an activity will increase some stats and decrease others (e.g. working on a farm, working in a kitchen). It will not tell you which ones beforehand - you have to try them out and see. Sometimes it’s easy to guess (Farming increases strength and constitution), sometimes it’s not (Cooking decreases combat skill??). It’s trial and error.

This means that you have to write down or memorize what does what, which can be frustrating. I don’t mind the first attempt at something not giving you the info, but it should “unlock” the info so that subsequent attempts tell you exactly what stats an activity raises and lowers.

Games like Cute Bite improve upon this by telling you what stats will be increased by a job or study activity, but they don’t tell you what stat is decreased by a given job. The omission seems to be intentional, probably to make the gameplay more interesting, but I still dislike it.

Perhaps the “oops I forgot that decreases Etiquette, oh no!” is compelling gameplay for your typical gamer, but as someone with memory issues and ADHD, it just means I have to take notes. It would be cool if the game did that for me instead of having to have Notepad open while I play it.

It’s not like I want the game to play itself, and you’ll have to write down certain things anyway, like “having x stat be 100 and y stat be 150 seems to be the requirement for this character to appear” - but these are such basic things you interact with so routinely that I don’t believe automating them is bad.

To bring it back to Pokemon, recent Pokemon games tell you if an attack is super effective or not very effective. I’ve been playing these games for over 20 years, but this made them a lot more accessible and fun to me. Some folks complained about this “dumbing the games down” - as if they aren’t made for children - but I personally don’t find “ugh, right, I forgot Steel resists Psychic for some reason” to enrich my experience.

Back to raising games. So not only do you have to keep in mind what stats are increased by what, you have to remember what stats your character has and what stats you were trying to improve. Cute Bite helpfully puts the stats page next to your activity list, but Princess Maker 2 requires you to back out of your calendar entirely to look at them.

So I very often end up in a spiral of “what was I improving again?”, backing out, looking at the stats, saying “oh right”, going to the jobs, trying to remember what I was doing, et cetera. The video game equivalent of “walking into a kitchen and trying to remember what the fuck you were there to do”.

This is why I list these things as Core QOL. Backing out to look at a separate menu should be something that happens as little as possible. You should be able to, ideally, look at all the information you need on one page, or with a click or two.

Bullet point #5 (a memory album of daughters gone by) is by far the least essential one, but comes back to sentimentality. Being able to look back at the first daughter you ever made, to see her face again and what her ending was. It also does have a practical purpose - if daughter #1 was a “failure” at achieving a certain goal you were looking for, being able to look at her stats would give you some idea of what to try for with daughter #2.

All of these have the potential to be cut, but that one is the most likely. That said, all of them would be ideal to have.

There’s still the list of various features I’d like to have but don’t consider essential, but, well, this post is long enough already. But I feel pretty good about having nailed down the things I’m most invested in developing, and I feel like by working outward from there, the most necessary features should become more obvious.

#ppposts #concept #scope

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rinharu-purple · 4 years ago

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Lucien: MLQC’s Mastermind

Yes, I said that Lucien is the creepiest LI in my opinion, and I wouldn’t choose him in a million, billion years. BUT, Lucien is by far the one person, who is pulling the strings and is the driving force of the MLQC universe. He is the only person who acquires all the information from all sides and is connected to every important actor in the story. Therefore, Lucien has become the second LI I’ve started to follow more attentively. Mind that the ranking ist 1) Gavin 2) Gavin 3) Gavin 4) Lucien ;)

In my manifesto, why Gavin is MC’s choice, I’ve already mentioned briefly, that Lucien has the strongest EVOL among all the characters but is also the strongest character (it’s not the MC or the Black Queen, let’s not fool ourselves)

The Machiavellian

Before we talk about Lucien’s part in the MLQC universe, we should first look at him as person and observe the elements that make up his personality.

In the game, all our guys have their personal priorities. Gavin and Kiro are on the front line, fighting for peace and prosperity, Victor, well...I don’t think that he cares for anything else besides MC, maybe his position. But with Lucien, his priority is not a person or a concept, but rather a philosophy. Lucien wants to see the next step in human evolution and is determined to take any measures necessary to see it to it’s end. Other guys can not stand oblivious to other things that come up their way in achieving their goals but Lucien only has his eyes on the prize and to him nothing else matters, no one else matters and no ethics matter.

Machiavellianism denotes cunningness and claims, that those dark triads use whatever means necessary to gain power. If we consider the choices Lucien has made throughout the story so far, we can clearly find his manipulative ways in getting other actors to the positions of his conjecture. He lies to MC and hides his personality as Ares, penetrates Black Swan to use their facilities, but also uses LFG’s resources for his R&D projects all the while concealing his true nature.

Another trait of a Machiavellian, is that he is charismatic and friendly, all the while displaying no emotions. I think, there can be two possible reasons as to why Lucien has limited display of emotions. The first possible explanation has something to do with his parents passing and the trauma he suffered afterwards. Among all LIs Lucien is the one with the most loveless childhood and teenage years, the most important years in developing one’s psychological traits and during those years Lucien received alongside with Kiro the most blows. That resulted in him losing the connection to his emotions as a defense mechanism.

Another possibility might be him losing the connection to his emotions as a result of a chemical reaction in his brain due to excessive testing Black Swan objected him to. Lucien’s EVOL was created in a lab and he was the first man-made Evolver. Lucien is called various times a psychopath, because he shows signs of psychopathy such as lack of remorse, empathy or compassion. It is said that that kind of behavior might occur due to a misconnection between the ventromedial prefrontal cortex (vmPFC) and the amygdala. Considering the fact that Lucien’s parents were killed right in front of him and that he was both physically and psychologically abused for the coming years, this might have led him to experience an imbalance in his chemical balance. One might argue, that his altruistic actions in the orphanage are an evidence for his compassion, I think it is yet another disguise for his unethical ways of reaching his goals.

The Orchestrator

In all honesty no one is actively seeking alliances and keeps tabs on other’s actions for their agenda like Lucien does. Maybe Commander Leto but he mostly fails in drawing others to his side, because he is not able to speak in their pendants’ language or resonate with their perspective. Lucien, on the other hand, is gifted with an extraordinary ability to observe his surroundings and companions, making it very easy for him to talk to them in their terms and desires. Lucien doesn’t show much empathy, UNLESS, it contributes to his cause, in that case he can perfectly put himself in other’s shoes and plays them in such a meticulous way, that they join him willingly.

That is how Lucien directs MC successfully in entering the Black Cabin or in understanding the evolution core.

Lucien is not exactly a piece on a chess board, but is a player, who knows all the pieces very well, knows the rules of the game, has observed many games and took notes of how they all has turned out and therefore knows what kind of a game he is going to play. Just watch closely. how he co-operates with Kiro and the Black Queen. He knows that Kiro is using Black Swan for his goals, much like he does, so he uses his hacking abilities to access to information. The Black Queen is the initiator of everything in S1, so he makes sure to stay close to her. He knows that Victor is searching for MC and trying to understand the Evol gene, there he has an investor.

The Cool, Calm and Collected Type

in the MLQC universe, everyone loses their composure at one point or another, because...who wouldn’t? Time and space warps constantly and people are also changing their stances depending on the time-space constellation they find themselves in.

MC loses her cool almost on a daily basis, Gavin was in a constant haywire in the Daybreak era, Victor literally threw people into black holes in CH11 and freaked out as he saw the Black Queen for the first time and Kiro walks around in a bipolar state. So, everybody is pretty unstable due to understandable conditions but we never see Lucien lose his cool and this is one of his best qualities.

Here is the thing about Lucien. This guy is always at least one step ahead of everyone and he achieves this by two simple rules:

1) Acquire all possible information

2) Observe everyone and everything at all times

Why am I saying this? It lies in the basis of anxiety and angst. We humans tend to feel uncomfortable in the face of an uncertain situation, meaning in the wake of the unknown. MC is constantly anxious, because she doesn’t know what is going on, why is everyone after her, why is she blessed with the unconditional affection of 5 equally attractive men? (ehm, but not quite equally ehm *Gavin* hihi, sorry, Gavin-stan gotta Gavin-stan ^_^). Anyway you get the picture. Gavin went haywire in CH22 because he was pushed in a tight spot and therefore had angst. Same goes for Victor in CH11 his mind went blank as he saw history repeating itself and then in CH18 when he saw with his own eyes what could the girl of his dreams might become.

We don’t see Lucien in such deadlock situation though do we, and I think it is mainly because he is always prepared for every possibility and he can calculate them meticulously, because he possesses the largest chunk of information and also keeps tabs on everyone and everything that’s going on. So, when a crisis occurs he doesn’t freak out, sure he gets surprised at times, because the outcome of a a certain situation is the possibility, which he calculated to be no higher than 1% and yet there it is. But since he’s already took this into consideration, he has a plan. Combine this with his knowledge about the persons and organizations involved in the matter, then you have a calm Lucien, who is in control of the situation. Thus, he is calm. You can actually also bind this behavior of Lucien with that of a predator, whose movement are languid, is non-reactive and doesn’t mind turning his back to his opponents, since he doesn’t perceive them as a threat.

If this wasn’t enough, Lucien manages to joggle all of this without exposing himself. Even in the last stage of the play he never gets caught. Unless he willingly exposes himself, as in the case of revealing Ares to MC. MLQC actors can usually see through each other and use their weaknesses to meet their own ends. MC is obviously Gavin, Kiro and Victor’s weakness and their opponents can see this pretty easily. IT’s not quite the same with Lucien though and he doesn’t let himself be blackmailed or threatened by any weakness. He always keeps his cards close to his chest.

Considering the fact that Lucin is the least outstanding LI, this is pretty impressive. So I guess this makes him the embodiment of the phrase “still waters run deep”.

The Renaissance Man

Lucien is a man of science and aesthetics. Explaining phenomenons with associations and loading them with philosophical substance. He doesn’t necessarily perceive things bluntly as they are, but interprets them in a meaningful way. The way he associates MC with a butterfly, how he wants to entrap her in ajar, so she wouldn’t get away, alas taking the only resource of color in his life away. Not only that, but he can also break down the matters at hand to its fragments and can therefore work his way up from there. He is blessed with a strong deduction ability, so he can connect the dots easily, come to a conclusion and act accordingly. No doubt that the other guys have very good deduction abilities, but because Lucien always has a bit of an information more than them, he can find the solutions just a little bit faster in my opinion.

Reading is a necessity for his guy much like eating and drinking, Which is why we see him reframing events in the context of a certain story he’d read at some point in his life. With time, I will add here some of his quotes about certain situations to explain what I mean. Or even better, if you have some, that are evident in you opinion, you could add them in the comments. I really enjoy reading/hearing Lucien’s philosophical, scientific explanations to certain moments in MC’s life. They are always to the point and helpful.

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

So this is my very first analysis on Lucien and I have to admit, I still have so many material to check on him, so if anything is missing please bear with me here :)

I was watching Joe’s Twitch while I wrote this, so there are many spelling, grammar mistakes, which will be corrected gradually.

This post will get better and better, scout promise!

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #mlqc simon #mlqc xumo #mlqc xu mo #mr. love queen's choice #I had to rewrite a large part of this because my PC #broke down #so this post will be edited around a 100 times #Im sorry

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