#this is somehow not me at all and yet also painfully accurate ALL AT THE SAME TIME

[edgeray]

*presses my face against your tank* HELLO RAY !!! :D I AM FINALLY HERE !! MY BRAINCELLS HAVE COLLIDED AND PRODUCED A THOUGHT !!

or, er, sort of? more like a vague vibe, but i digress. basically, consider: pining arle. how does she realize her feelings for you? how does she cope? how does her behaviour around you change? does it? what is she thinking the whole time? when would she consider making a move? essentially i would like to see you psychologically pick apart this woman. go as in depth into her brain or inner monologue as you want !!! the set dressing can be canon or an au, i’ll eat it up regardless :)) and as a professional angst writer i know you can write some absolutely monstrous (/pos) yearning and i’m frothing at the mouth thinking about it 🤤🤤🤤 lookin forward to your thoughts but also take your time with it !!! godspeed 🫡🫡🫡

An Unfit Role 

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Oh sev… you spoil me too much. You truly do. Somehow this turned into very ‘Arlecchino is a person'-esque and I don't know how but oh well. I don't know if this answered your questions very well, but hopefully this is what you mean by psychologically picking apart her! Was this enough pining? Content warnings / info - uhh none I think. just a lil bit of angst, 1.4k words

Arlecchino is many things. The Fourth Fatui Harbinger, a Snezynayan diplomat, the head of the House of the Hearth, and simply ‘'Father.’ She takes on many roles, and enforces them with an iron fist, every facade meticulously practiced and rationalized. Perfected as if she were an actor on a stage, every action and step is calculated beforehand. And if external factors or unpredictable variables crop up in the midst of her play? Well, a good actor knows how to improvise. Arlecchino is well aware of her roles, has memorized the lines and drilled through every movement. The Knave has many feats from each character she plays. A flawless performer, in those aspects.

A lover is not a character she can play. Someone who loves. It is a role that she cannot hope to touch, one she cannot imagine assigning herself too. She is far too inexperienced in what it pertains to. Her perception would grossly mischaracterize it, painting a rather crude display of what she knows of but doesn't know. After all, how could one act without an adequate example? No actor would want to showcase a poor impression of an original source material, an actor presents only their most remarkable qualities. A good actor knows what they cannot act, and it is this where her talents reach their limit. It is what her role as a ‘Father’ stems from; this inability to express something far too fragile and flimsy for her to hold. 

Of the few showcases of others playing the role, Arlecchino is knowledgeable enough that they are simply inept showcases. The Tsaritsa, who has shown the capability to act, and yet chooses to conceal her abilities from her audience. Crucabena, an unqualified actor, whose words dripped with far too much venom for the soft-spoken voice that she used. Perhaps Clervie was the only accurate and genuine actor able to play the part, but one cannot appreciate the traits of an unfinished story. And the naive Peruere, who could hardly imitate her counterpart, was maimed by Arlecchino’s own hands. It is here that she learns that the role of a lover earns no applause, because it adds little to the plot, and so it lacks a function in her story.  

Despite this, she finds herself in this scene, where she plays a character unlike her usual, an entirely new character involuntarily thrusted into her by the cruel machinations of her mind. 

It is a subtle thing. First, she was just the Knave to you. But somehow, among your presence, her facade slips, and she dons another character. 

She becomes a character who knows of nothing but the way her sight is captured by a singular person, a character whose dead heart begins to beat, daring to flutter back to life after it was painfully wrenched out of her chest by her favorite story's ending. She becomes acutely aware of this role when her eyes linger on you a moment longer than need be, when she indulges your empty but no less engaging conversations, when she familarizes herself with the particular fauna scent you carry. When she closes her eyes, your smile flashes through her mind, she knows she's fallen. 

An actor knows when to quit, when they misfit the character they're performing. And yet her mind remains stubborn. Acting a role one does not fit will only damage the actor's reputation, and she intends on abandoning it. But it is difficult for her to dismiss how much she yearns for a warmth that the blood flames in her veins cannot bring. It is difficult to deny that she is not momentarily blinded and stunned by your beaming expression, even when you are not looking at her. It is increasingly more difficult to control the pulsing underneath her skin. This is a character she cannot control, instead, it often feels that the character controls her. 

It is an unseemly, disgusting appearance for her. If it were physically possible, she would plunge her very own cursed, clawed hands into her chest, to grasp onto this fickle, volatile organ and crush it just to exhaust the remaining embers of a futile hope. If only it were as simple as that. Love is far too much of a complicated role for her, and yet it is somehow inescapable. Some sort of torment placed onto her by the archons. 

She can long, she can reach, she can prance around you, but never can she touch. For love imprints its scorch marks deeper than any weapon or assault. One of the lessons her story has concluded to. 

So, instead, she reduces its role to a minor character. She lets her stares remain, but she observes you from a distance. She does not dawdle a second longer besides you if she needn't be. She dresses the role of a lover as an observer. Everything she touches with these wretched, blackened hands soon turns into nothing but embers and ashes, and so the only way that you will remain is away from her.

On her desk, sits a vase with a single flower. It is your favorite flower, the flower that you smell of. It does not move from its place, nothing is done to it besides being watered. Its stem is so brittle, and the petals are far too easy to wither away.

(It is a reminder, every time she sits at her desk. Oh, how'd she like to stroke the patels with as much tenderness as she could muster. How'd she like to cradle it in her hands, this source of life, despite being so delicate, is so beautiful. How'd she like to be able to wake up everyday, and view upon this blossoming flower. But she is not a gardener. She knows nothing of how to make a flower bloom.) 

Humans are the only viable actors for the role of a lover. A curse is not. 

(In her dreams, sometimes you are in place of Clervie. Yet, like Clervie, the only moment she is able to cradle you is when her sword impales you. She will not let another flower wilt, she will not burn another flower.)

It is why you baffle her. Why do you gaze upon her with that expression, as if her claws are not one one more inch from piercing your skin and ripping into your flesh? How do you take her hands in yours, somehow slotting them as if they were always meant to, when they’re soiled with vulgar blood? Her cutting words and sharp tongue, how do they not dissuade you? How do you see her blackened skin, and not be driven away by such a mark of impurity and depravity? 

How could you not tell that she is improper for the role that you seek?

She wonders if a flower is a poor description of you. She wonders if you are instead a Sundew ensnaring a spider, unwilling to let it escape. No, perhaps that is not fitting for you, because you are unaware how effortlessly she can char you–unaware of the imminent danger that comes with keeping such a venomous creature.

Arlecchino is many things. She is a coward, if only for you. She cannot abandon her role, but she cannot perform better, floating in the state of inadequacy that she so despises. Playing a lover makes her foolish, and it is a compromising role. 

She is foolish, but she is despicable. She is selfish. And though she is perfect actor, even performers must fail to succeed. One day, her mental will and patience crumbles. She requests you into her office, your doe-eyed expression widens when she gives you the flower that sits lone in a glass vase on her desk. She tells you that you plague her thoughts, every feeling and emotion is muddied when they concern you, a culmination of things not within her grasp, not within her control. 

It is your performance that finally teaches her what she lacked before: playing the role of a lover requires another. It is a role dependent on another character, otherwise it cannot succeed. It matters not how experienced one is with the other, as long as the characters are committed to it.

There is another lesson that she learned from you.

“I cannot act as a lover.”

“Why must you act to love me?”

Love is a fickle, unpredictable thing. There is no words to be practiced, no actions to be scripted. 

Arlecchino is many things. A lover may be one of them. 

[echo-lover]

Why are you watching this, it's for kids. Focus on life, find yourself a partner, have your own family. You are an adult. Grow up.

You don't understand it. This is not just a series...

This series gives me a chance to feel like a kid again. I find comfort, safety and care in the arms of characters who mean the world to me. I experience each of their moments of sadness, each of their smallest joys, as if they were my own. This is my home, my safe space. I love them with all my heart. Thank you Star-Wars for my beautiful family.

I love Wrecker because he always managed to put a smile back on my face, even when I was having the worst day ever. His cheerful personality makes it impossible not to like him. Sometimes he is just a child, trapped in a large man's body. Behind all this muscles and enormous strength that can easily hurt you, there is a soft heart made of gold. He can be gentle, soft, even quiet if he has to. He would do absolutely everything for his family. He is also way more intelligent than he might think. The way he takes care of Omega melts my heart every time. Kids love him and he loves kids.

I love Tech because he can quickly adapt to situations. His voice is so special... I could listen to him for hours and never get tired of his facts about everything he saw and heard on his missions. He showed me that being smart is not something I should be ashamed of. His voice is calming, gives me comfort... I love his little jokes and moments where he was just a little savage in conversations. Even though he processes moments and thoughts differently, he is still able to share his own feelings with Omega. She helped him open up and show the part of himself that he kept closed from the world, even from himself. He loved his family so much that he sacrificed himself for their safety, paying the biggest price. He is worth every tear I shed for him (and there were so many).

I love Echo because I see a part of myself in him. He has been with me from the very beginning of my journey with Clones, and is one of the most important characters for me. I relate to him for many personal reasons. Even though he has experienced so much evil in his life, he is still able to be gentle, caring and show love to those who were closest to him. I especially love his bond with Omega, they both understand each other through their traumas, and way more. Omega quickly became the most important to Echo, but he couldn't give up on fighting, even for her. He felt that he has to somehow compensate for all the lost years when he was a prisoner on SkakoMinor. His honor, loyalty and courage inspire me every day. And his tenderness and softness touch my soul deeply. I could talk about him for hours and never get bored. I wish I'd be able to give him the biggest and warmest hug, and tell him how important he is to me.

I love Crosshair because he's the type of character I could easily hate, but I don't. In fact Cross is very close to my heart, I feel sorry for him and I want to help him get back to his old self. He is so much more than what the Empire has done to him. This sniper who never misses, who doesn't have to use his muscles to hurt - words are enough for him - silent, yet sharp. Precise, accurate, always on point. Confident, knowing his skills. Painfully honest, but needing to prove his worth to others at the same time. I know there is this soft side of him, hidden, but it is there for sure. The side that loves his brothers and little sister more than his own life. He need some time to understand that he is worth all the love in the Galaxy and I hope that Omega will help him to realize, that his brothers never really left him. They would take him back, if he just wanted...

I love Hunter because he makes me feel safe. I can't put it into words, but he's a character that reminds me of home... a loved one that I lost some time ago. He is so much like my dad at some point and his bond with Omega is so special for me. I know he's not perfect, he makes mistakes just like everyone else, but he always wants to do the right thing. He is a leader, not the one that only gives orders, but he is more like the head of the family who protect them - a father. He always puts his family first and is willing to do anything for them. For any of them, including Crosshair. He often doesn't give direct orders, just suggestions. His squad is not just soldiers, but they are his brothers, his closest family. His priorities changed when Omega appeared in his life - a child in need of a family, who trusted him and gave him love that he had never received before. From a soldier, he became a father, who would give everything for his daughter's safety and joy. His relationship with Omega is the most important to me. I loved him from the first moment and I could talk about him for hours, just like about Echo. I will always defend him. No matter what.

I love Omega because she took the best parts of each of her brothers. She is fearless, brave, strong and ready to defend her family until the very end. She's just a sweet little girl who can't have a normal childhood. She's different, just like her brothers, and she's so proud of it. She is not afraid to show her individuality. But even though she is strong and brave, she is still just a child. She needs love, protection... family... and Bad Batch gave it to her... a home, a safe place, loving brothers... Words cannot describe how important she is to me. Now she has changed so much, she is no longer this little Omega from first season... I think she becomes so much like Hunter.

[wickjump]

Tbh I thought it was kinda weird how Cross used to act (like all mean for no reason). I'm so glad he had his personality changed bc if I had his childhood I would not be acting like that, i didn't even have half the trauma he does and i am a huuuuge people pleaser😭like wouldn't he be afraid people are gonna hurt him for being disrespectful? Like especially since he didn't have the resources to heal and deal with that stuff and deconstruct allbthat

Anyways pathetic cross my beloved..... <3

no it makes PERFECT sense. i was a mean as SHIT kid for years, although as i grew up i went more people pleasy. anyway warning for wickrambling (sigh)

cross only acts like a dick to people who don’t hold power over him, or when he believes himself to be under the control of someone else.

he was never rude to xgaster, especially growing up, he’s respectful to his toriel and asgore, implied to be respectful to his superiors (though not his coworkers, whom he feels comfortable enough to banter with as he grew up with most of them). and while he’s mildly rude to nightmare, it’s because he was still following chara, not nightmare. he viewed nightmare as an ally, not a new ‘owner’. chara was in charge, in his mind, not nightmare.

chara is somewhat of an outlier to the ‘never rude’ rule, because he blames chara for a lot. yet he still follows orders, most of the time blindly. he disagrees, he says he disagrees, but he follows along. he banters with chara but ultimately submits to his whim until they’re separated.

it’s a defense mechanism. if they want nothing to do with him, or they think he’s confident enough to act rudely, then he’s not someone they can influence or harm. and given the amount of internalized anger he has, he also needs to burn it off somehow. in a place where nobody has the power over him to ‘punish’, he’s not in nearly as much fear. if someone else is ‘in control’ of him or ‘owns’ him, they’re not there to witness and then punish him for his behavior. or hell, maybe it’s an attempt at pushing the boundaries, seeing the limits to what he can and can’t do when he’s not explicitly told the rules.

the switch in his behavior as of late is nice i think, definitely showcases other sides of his character that was painfully ignored at first, but the anger issues fits him. i personally view the change in his behavior as cross slowly burning out that anger, like i did as a kid when i finally escaped my abuser. it took a few years, but im not nearly as angry as i was. i don’t pick fights like i used to, and now I’m conflict avoidant. i like to think that’s how cross operated, too.

he gets angry and then he gets burnt out. my mom always told me ‘anger is a secondary emotion’, either for sadness or fear or self-hate or something. i dont fullllly believe that, but it applies to cross. he’s angry because he’s not emotionally intelligent enough to figure out why he’s feeling the way he does after being compliant to others his entire life. it bubbles to the surface and he doesn’t know what to do.

and now that he’s with xgaster, i feel he’ll be angry then, too. but i also feel he’ll eventually submit, even if his goal is to. not ruin the multiverse like xgaster wants to. but only time will tell and honestly whatever route jakei goes for i feel will be a good one. if cross is angry, it would be accurate. if he submits, it would be accurate. if he’s fearful, it would be accurate. trauma is complicated and different for everyone.

anwyay i also like cross a lot maybe too much actually,, yayaya. he deserves to be pathetic but that’s not all to him i feel. he’s got a wide array of trauma and thus a wide array of ways to act about it!!! :3

[lonesomedreamer]

The Rings of Power Liveblog: Adrift (Episode 2)

In between watching the first and second halves of this episode, I was looking back through the Appendices and realized that the events this series covers, from the reemergence of Sauron in Middle-earth to the eventual forging of the various Rings, span 1200 years! So it’s kind of absurd to think of them somehow adapting those events “accurately” (which makes you wonder why they made some of the narrative choices they did…).

The idea of Galadriel swimming back across the sea to Middle-earth is laughable, but tbh what else can she attempt to do in this situation?

The fire around the Stranger isn’t hot because…magic, I guess?

Nori’s a darling.

Arondir is being all self-sacrificing and stupid noble by going to explore the scary tunnels alone…good thing he probably has plot armor.

People who haven’t read The Silmarillion: Who the fuck is Fëanor? What are the Silmarils?!?

Helpfully, Elrond tells us that they were “the jewels that contain the very light of Valinor.” Oversimplified, sure, but that’s the kind of exposition the first episode needed: Tolkien 101 for people who know nothing about Tolkien (beyond, probably, some movies)!

As someone who can’t roll their Rs, the aggressively exaggerated pronunciation of “Sauron,” “Morgoth,” and now “Silmaril” makes me feel…kind of inept.

That said, a) do they even have the rights to tell this Morgoth story? and b) exposition between two characters who already know it (and I guarantee that Elrond knows the story Celebrimbor is telling rn…) is mildly annoying.

Elrond Half-elven, “as noble and fair as an elf-lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as kind as summer” a Kiss-ass

Good set design! Tbh, I wish Rivendell had been portrayed more like this in the PJ movies: a little richer, with more wood and warm golden light.

Why is Celebrimbor in such an arbitrary hurry to build this forge? A few months is nothing to an Elf!

“How far outside [our own race]?” Well, I just don’t know, Celebrimbor, who else in Middle-earth is renowned for their metallurgy? Which race has yet to be portrayed in this—oh, right.

Please book me a trip to Middle-earth.

“Their prince, Durin, is an old and dear friend.” And yet Elrond, one of the wisest people in Middle-earth, doesn’t know what “Durin’s Day” is when it comes up in The Hobbit. If he had a near-fraternal bond with a Dwarf prince, wouldn’t he be aware of significant Dwarven holidays?

I know this Elrond is just supposed to be younger and less experienced, but he’s coming across as kind of dumb.

Khazad-dûm looks incredible.

So the Dwarves have Scottish accents, the Harfoots Irish, and the Elves English? But the Men also have English accents, just less refined? Hmm. Choices were made.

I would die for her nbd. ♥

Gee, I wonder why everyone is speculating about Gandalf.

“Looks can be deceiving.” Given that I know who this character turns out to be, this dialogue is a little…heavy-handed.

The whole water dragon (?) sequence was so silly. Just like the “ice troll”.

It’s almost like “Elrond is besties with this Dwarf prince” subplot was a bad idea cooked up only to create some pointless, petty interpersonal conflict. It also makes it painfully obvious that there’s no reason Celebrimbor, an Elf, would be in a big hurry to build anything.

“Gamli” is the really best name they could come up with for Durin’s son? Pretty sure Durin’s son was also named Durin. I cross-checked the Appendices and could not find a “Gamli” anywhere…

Do Durin and Disa, the crown prince and princess of Khazad-dûm, have no servants? They’re just welcoming a guest into their house, fussing with their children, and serving dinner like regular folk. Where is a single one of the dozens of extras that we just saw in a previous scene??

What is it with the tendency of Tolkien adaptations to show the Dwarves as less than dignified? (i.e., Durin belching loudly at the dinner table.) Gimli was reduced to comic relief, and the Dwarves in the Hobbit films who aren’t meant to be seen as goofy—Thorin, Fili and Kili—are much more like Men than the other Dwarves. Tolkien felt VERY strongly about Dwarves being a proud and noble race! Respect that!!!

“Aulë’s beard!” I love this. (People who haven’t read the Silmarillion: Who’s Aulë?!)

“I am simply wondering what manner of man would so readily abandon his companions to death.” Big Elizabeth Swann energy.

There are so many problems with making this character a hot human dude. I’m glad I already know the truth about his identity, though—I don’t have to come around to “Halbrand” or (even worse) start shipping him with Galadriel. I can just be indignant.

Based on what we know about the duplicitous behavior as [redacted], you’d think Halbrand would be a little bit more…suave? Charming? Anything but this blunt, confrontational asshole.

People sure can cover ground quickly in Middle-earth. Unbelievably fast travel for the sake of moving the story along is a problem in almost all fantasy TV shows, mind you. If they only budgeted for 10 episodes instead of 8…or even (gasp) 13…

Why do Orcs look like straight-up horror movie villains now?

Also it’s so convenient that this Orc appeared beneath Bronwyn’s house on the same day she tried to convince her fellow villagers about the Orc tunnel threat.

Their pathetic little raft wouldn’t survive this, lol.

WHY does Halbrand save Galadriel? Repeatedly?? Did they think about this at all? There is nothing human, selfless, or compassionate about [redacted], lmfao.

As magical as this looks, Nori and Poppy’s “firefly” lanterns aren’t flickering, and anyone who’s ever seen fireflies knows that their glow isn’t consistent. They blink individually.

Same, Poppy. I also get freaked out when I see a firefly die.

The Appendices tell us that the Dwarves came to the military aid of the Elves and that they were as closely allied with Celebrimbor/Eregion as at any time in their shared history. So why are they making King Durin such a bullheaded, racist prick? (I know: for drama.)

Is the narrative implying that the shining object in King Durin’s chest is…what, a Silmaril? Because it sure as fuck shouldn’t be.

No, little emo kid, don’t take the broken Sauron sword that will surely attract evil to your people as they flee their village!

Bronwyn’s entire village is pretty easy to scare despite their generally gruff attitudes, aren’t they? At least they’re not completely stupid/have some sense of self-preservation.

The Good:

There’s still some stunning imagery to be had in this one, namely Khazad-dûm and the surrounding mountains

Likewise, some really nice set design in Eregion and especially Khazad-dûm

Nori!!!

A little exposition for non-readers (though maybe still not enough)

The Bad:

Most of the acting was weaker than in first episode, not that the writers gave anyone much to work with

Weak writing throughout: the dialogue’s not great. The characters’ motivations/choices don’t make much sense. Most of the scenarios they find themselves in vary from illogical (Elrond, Arondir) to unbelievable (Galadriel).

Why is the Stranger—Gandalf or Radagast or whoever he is—mute? And why does Nori keep assuming that she can understand/communicate with him??

No respect for the Dwarves, as usual

Too much stuff is convenient or coincidental, i.e., the perfectly-timed Orc appearance in Bronwyn’s house and the improbable survival of Halbrand’s raft

Meaning no disrespect to gamers, there were more “video game” type scenes—specifically, the water “dragon” and the Orc in Bronwyn’s house—which added nothing to the story and told us anything about the characters.

Halbrand. Yes, I am biased by knowing the twist.

I didn’t feel like this episode was that much worse than the first while I was watching it, but after reading over this, it’s obvious that it was quite a step down in quality. The first one felt, in most places, like a heartfelt homage to Tolkien’s world in ways this one just didn’t. But I love Nori to bits, and the visuals are still amazing, so I will persevere.

[sehtoast]

Writer Tag

Thanks for the tag @venus-haze <3

How many works do you have on AO3? 29

What's your total AO3 word count? 230k

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Tender Threads

Satisfy Me

One Big Wet Spot

Say Please

The Hand That Feeds

(All Homelander fics) ^

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Most of the time, but lately I haven't had the energy or the time. My social battery is pretty fucked, but I do read every single one of them and love them

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? So it's technically unpublished, but it basically ends with Ben (my oc) sentencing himself to die pretty painfully alongside Homelander with that thing that got revealed in Gen V. If you know you know

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Honestly, Envy.

Do you write crossovers? I've done an AU crossover for the same fandom, but not really

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Most of the hate I get is in my tumblr inbox. I haven't really done/said anything about it bc no one really wants to see or hear about it tbh, but I've gotten a fair amount of shit for pairing homie with a guy and then also more for pairing him with a trans guy. I think the only ao3 hate i ever got was barely even hate, more like someone bitching that my tender threads formatting wasn't to their liking bc it's Y/n formatted

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yessir yessir. Honestly just whatever i'm vibin with

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i'm aware although i don't think i've written anything steal-worthy

Have you ever had a fic translated? no, but @anon-nee has been my personal jesus christ in helping me make sure my english to german translations in tender threads has been accurate. love you nonnums <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before? technically no, but @homelanderbutbig did a collab with me and made this to pair with a fic i wrote, which i feel like is co-creation so i'm gonna say yes anyway. love you HBB <3

What's your all-time favorite ship? honestly i don't really have one, unless i can count my ocxcanon ship in which case it's benlander

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? i have a depowered homelander fic where ben answers the door one day and ryan, now in his late teens, is there to finally see homie again after all those years went by. i adore the concept but i'm like NEVER in the mindset i need to actually write something like that

What are your writing strengths? yall got strengths?

What are your writing weaknesses? all of them

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i think it's fine so long as there's clarification shortly after for the readers who may not understand, and also that you've somehow gotten it cross checked by someone who actually speaks the langauge so ensure you're not just saying some wild shit. but ultimately do whatever makes you happy idk bro i don't make the rules

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Prometheus! i was am down so bad for david omg

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? astarion/tav. i wanna write something sooooo bad but i just can't get in the headspace for it

What's your favorite fic you've written? probably satisfy me because the role swap was incredibly fun and it's REALLY fucking cool to unbind homelander from his own behavioral patterns and manifest them into a reader's concept. like, of everything i've written, i could most clearly imagine everything that happened in that fic and i'd find myself grinning like a sick fuck while writing about literally eviscerating a man's chest cavity lmao

No pressure tags: @blindmagdalena @hom3landr @irenadel @slasher-smasher and anyone else who wants to participate

[kidmachinate]

Fearless?

As I look back at my last few posts, one thing is painfully obvious outside of reflecting on it consistently already. This has been an exhausting year. How can I put some kind of positive spin on this? Because I still have at least crumbs put away and am not homeless? Been able to provide a living for both myself and my partner even though some of our roughest times yet? The fact that I'm even still here? Maybe a combination of all these things. But I do have another thought...

I titled this appropriately for a couple of reasons. The question mark is because I'm not certain I believe my own thoughts at times as of late. I also decided to make a reference to a band/recent concert, which was nice to hear but vision was kinda limited. Even moments of fun come littered with issues this year. So what is the thought? The thought is a consistent theme I've had in which something bad will happen and I just develop thick skin and march into scenarios like it fearless. What do I have to lose, right? In my mind I've lost it all. Maybe just my mind. I think that last statement is more accurate. Really though, among the chaos, I am fortunate for a few different things. I am fortunate to have escaped a mental prison (even if only temporarily) I put myself in due to work politics. I am currently fortunate to not have given up now being in the same position again about ten months or so later. I am fortunate to have friends that I occasionally see and have good times with. I am fortunate to have a partner that is perfectly capable of having heart of gold, despite mental stigmas that say otherwise. I am fortunate to have two great online friends as well.

This was supposed to be a light amongst the darkness post. Right on the spot, after saving this to finish another day, I find out my livelyhood is stripped from me. After almost losing our place to live that could just happen anyway after being blindsided at work with a lack of. So, I'm on the hunt again. I should be affected more by this but am running in with a crazy semi-fearless nothing to lose attitude and hopefully this leads to my solution. I've debated not wanting to be here a few times this year and still am. I suppose I should be fortunate for that as well.

I'm fortunate for my still living mother and our collective cats. This may be where the list stops? Everytime bad crap happens, I find a way to bounce back and care less and less about injustices or transgressions against me. Not everyone or everything is bad...and even in a state where right are not stacked in our favor, I'm gonna find a way. I will admit however, this time around, I'm scared. Vulnerable even. I was fully ready for something like this the first time I stood up for myself since last September employment wise. Not so much now.

Someway, somehow, I've got this. I have to. I have no choice. There is no other way...but I'ma forget about it over the weekend.

[manipulatedstars]

My crude words feel extremely inappropriate in the company of your masterful craft, but WHAT THE FUCK BRO THIS IS SO GOOD YOU'RE SO GOOD???!!!! HOW DO YOU DO IT????

I don't even know where to begin, nor whether I'll be able to stop, because all I want to do right now is scream and cry about my favorite parts. The main problem being that there's too many!!!

This is just... It's one of the softest things I've ever laid eyes on. It's so domestic. It's so calm. It's so genuine in its simplicity yet intricacy. It just feels very real, and very palpable. You may have just somehow made me love and crave this man more than I thought possible.

You have an incredible way with words. Your writing reads like poetry, like it just spilled out of you with no effort whatsoever. I don't know how you managed to assemble such a majestic vocabulary, but I'm genuinely in awe. The attention to the tiniest of details, and the way you tie every single one up neatly with a bow. The painfully accurate description of a new driver's behavior. The sounds. The freaking clicking of the seatbelts waiting for the next journey I-!!!!!

Your way of writing is practically perfect to me. And I mean it when I say that not only do I look forward to your posts, and I consider you one of my favorite writers on here, but as a baby writer I also look up to you a lot.

Thank you so much for writing and sharing

In the rain

(masterlist) (join taglist)

🌧️ pairing: bf!hongjoong x gn!reader 🌧️ genre: fluff, established long-term relationship, mentions of idol life 🌧️ summary: while on a drive with hongjoong, you reminisce the many moments that form the priceless love you share, and think of the future that lays ahead. 🌧️ wordcount: 3.4k 🌧️ warnings/tags: quick edit, love is real, pining over hj/ateez achievements, did i say pining? amplify that, two people deeply in love and committed, congrats on the licence hj~, abstract location descriptions, safe driving everyone! 🌧️ perma-taglist: moved to the end~ 🌧️ a/n: this was prompted by discussion of all things hongjoong - thank you hongsamis~ @yunbug @nebulousbrainsoup @starrysvn; thank you so much, love you and any reblogs, comments and notes appreciated!

🌧️ playlist: she's in the rain - the rose, dancing in the rain - rad museum, good days - sza, with u - ateez, be with you - ateez, mist - ateez

Now for the weather, starting with Seoul. The rainy season is in full swing, with the rain unlikely to let up for the rest of the day, or for the coming week, with only the occasional bursts of heavy cloud as opposed to high precipitation. There may be a thunderstorm in the late evening tonight, so while the air pollution may be low, we do suggest to keep your windows closed-

With the click of a button, the reporter’s shrill tone faded into the pitter-patter of the rain as it relentlessly hit the roof of the car. Your eyes were fixated on the windshield, observing the endless race of droplets, gliding down faster, slower, merging and dotting the glass, only to be washed away again. You barely registered the auditory change, your thoughts and heart racing as you caught the reflection of the beautiful man beside you, his hand pulling away from the radio. It was not necessary for you to turn to face him to know that you were being studied, your motionlessness transforming into a myriad of meanings in your favourite mind. 

Fingers flittering over your jeans, you attempted to curb your wave of nervousness while you hoped for your boyfriend to speak first. It was not that you were afraid of something going wrong, nor were you worried about any unwelcome surprises - you trusted Hongjoong with your life, but that tiny voice, reminding you of just how much has changed for the both of you was growing louder and louder, until the rain was no longer the predominant drumming in your ears. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hongjoong’s right hand resting on the steering wheel, silver rings glimmering in the grey light. You had joked a number of times about how your boyfriend would be as a driver, with you painting a comedy during late night conversations in his studio. You still remembered just how widely he had smiled, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he took your hands in his and told you he started taking lessons. But even when his bashful laugh filled your heart whole and you were congratulating him for getting his licence, a part of you was in denial. The part that was afraid of things ever changing.

Had it really been that long? You swore just yesterday you were sitting across from a Hongjoong who was barely an adult, only recently returned from training in the United States, making the first thing he did in Seoul to be seeing you. Iced americanos and ice cream. At least that much stayed the same. How many hair styles and colours had you complimented him on, every transformation equally as stunning as another? How did the boy who modified his own clothes, spray painting shoes and drawing on his denim jacket, metamorphose into the man who was personally invited to the private showcase of his favourite brand, by the designer whom he looked up to for so long? And now for him to be attending high fashion pop-ups and being called a legacy and inspiration? From the smallest details to the bigger picture, you had the pleasure of seeing Hongjoong become more than who he could ever hope to be, cheering him on every step of the way. Now, he was the one behind the wheel, your precious, genius, loving captain. You knew his life, his timeline off by heart better than you knew the weather, and yet, you still could not believe that there he was. This wonderful man with a heart of gold, sat beside you, the constant amidst the changes.

Noticing your darting eyes, Hongjoong let go of the wheel, instead stretching his arm, the action promptly followed by the pleasant crinkling of the suit jacket he was wearing - the same one you had messaged back and forth with his stylist about, and pressing the palm of his hand against your thigh, forcing you to look up and at him. Breath hitched in your throat as you sank into the warmth within his deep brown eyes, impeccably framed by a new pair of glasses - a gift from you for your anniversary. Without a single word uttered, you heard him. Placing your hand over his, you gave it a quick squeeze, earning a grin. A conversation through the rain, sentences crafted out of the staccato played by the downpour, gestures into monologues, a language of two souls intertwined by time, writing and rewriting memories. Hongjoong’s smile faltered as he noticed flickers of concern running over your features, and a whisper permeated the car’s salon, caressing and reciprocating your tender feelings towards him.

“What’s got you pensive, love?”

“Mm, nothing.” you mumbled, letting go of Hongjoong and turning back to stare at the street that stretched out in front of you.

“If it’s about me driving then I-” he began, but you would not dare give him a single chance to doubt himself.

“No, no! Please, I am so happy about this, Joong.”

“There is a ‘but’ in there somewhere, isn’t there?” he tried once more, giving you a sidelong glance before settling back into his seat. You tilted your head a little to observe how Hongjoong diligently checked his surroundings, one mirror after another, moving to softly press on the brake and crank the hand brake. As he switched gears and smoothly began the journey by rolling into his lane, you sighed.

“It’s just… you finally got your licence, huh?”

“Yep. And now I don’t need to nag anyone to see you. Expect your doorbell to ring at interesting hours of the night now.” he elaborated, tone playful, boyish. 

“As if it doesn’t already,” with a quick raise of an eyebrow, you pointed out the established reality.

 It had become something of a routine for the two of you when he was not touring. Be it after dance practice, or in the middle of a vigorous production and song-writing session, Hongjoong would find a way back to you, to your apartment. In the early days of your relationship he had been too afraid to ever ask, and besides, you had housemates from university to try and not disturb - though your sleep schedule was at times even more chaotic than Hongjoong’s you still thought it was only reasonable to be respectful. But as time went on and you found an apartment to call your own for as long as the landlord would allow, he cautiously began to make his appearances more and more frequent, until everything you owned or he brought became sets for two. With time, he had even forgotten to make up excuses to see you, every move made now feeling more than natural. Meant to be.

“But now I am limitless!” making another turn and driving out onto a larger road, Hongjoong quietly sang a line from the song of the same name, making you chuckle. “Now we can go on driving dates, how cool is that?”

“Patrolling the streets as outlaws should.”

“Shame this isn’t a van. I need to tell Woo to get one for himself to complete his look.” your boyfriend picked up on your comment, subtly linked to the recent comeback, choosing to play along.

While you were glad that you did not have to explain the sentimental mood in which you had found yourself, the topic of the new mini album only amplified what you had tried to suppress. Was it really the ninth? Had it really been that long since the debut? Had the four year anniversary of ATEEZ’s first win really passed a mere few days ago? You blinked once, twice, fluttered your eyelashes in an attempt to clear your head, to no avail. From sales in the hundreds to being measured in the millions, from dream to delivery, the name, the story, the music flying around the globe to be loved and listened to by more and more people with each passing day. Driving across the city to congratulate Hongjoong and his fellow members at the first opportunity with every win and milestone, watching ATEEZ climb the charts in countries your boyfriend had revealed to you had been an eternal dream - you often found yourself tearing up during your spontaneous trips to stores for gifts and most definitely left Hongjoong’s shoulders soaked a few too many times for it to not be an inside joke. You had to constantly tell yourself that this was real, this was well and truly happening, and you could be there to witness history in the making. 

Hongjoong navigated the streets, ambitious to reach the place which he had hinted you would like in record time. No matter how many times you had asked him before your date exactly where it was that you were going, he would not crack, far too well-practised in keeping his group’s lore a secret to spoil a little surprise. Passing by one of the central neighbourhoods, you recalled the pride with which you walked past the advertising campaigns, the unique truck promotions for the comeback, now dashing past the locations with the leader himself accelerating the ship on wheels through the metropolitan oceans. It was surreal. Heartwarming. Better than anything you could have ever imagined for the boy with a big dream and a CD in his hands. You leaned back against your seat and closed your eyes, listening to the rain that kept on pelting against the exterior of the car, muted by the hum of the engine. 

Seeing darkness, you let your thoughts wander, for them to simply travel right back to Hongjoong. You were not sure what exactly was so special about the driver’s licence. After all, he was not the only member with one; on top of that he was not the only one out of the group to attain this achievement recently. And yet, despite it being common, despite you yourself having been driving everywhere you could for long enough to have the skills turn into instinct, it was the fact that now, in this specific time and space, specifically Hongjoong was the one with his hand on the steering wheel. Maybe you were an overthinker, trained by reading a few too many lore discussions on social media, or maybe, and most likely, you were too in love with the man by your side.

When he had told you that he loved you for the first time, the priceless phrase was promptly followed by the confession that he could not imagine a life in which you were not together, and you could not agree more. While you were both independent individuals, with your own passions, goals and careers, understanding one another was always the easiest thing. He was your number one supporter, while you were his. Come rain or shine. You had been there for each other’s rises and falls, continued to fight even when the path got blurry, and now, in the magical shared solitude you were accelerating into a brighter and brighter future, even though there were thunderous clouds looming above you - not in spirit, however, not in your goals nor your aims. Hearing Hongjoong clear his throat gently so as to not disturb you, nonetheless made you open your eyes and exchange a glance with him. A soft smile melted over your lips as your boyfriend adjusted his glasses and scrunched his face, reminding you of a certain adorable rodent. Focus turned back onto the road, your boyfriend dived into a one way street, inching forwards between the brick walls to let the car be spat out into another display of commercial success.

The rain seemed to only get stronger as you zoomed past the steely, uniform skyscrapers decorated with billboards, numbers and businesses ranging from karaoke to restaurants to studios to anything else under the weeping sky. You checked the clock on the top right of the central monitor where not too long ago you could see the fluctuating waves of the radio as the weather forecast was presented. This was a rare day in the middle of promotions where Hongjoong did not have an evening nor a late night schedule, and so, in the blink of an eye your spontaneous meeting had been organised, and as soon as you could log off work you were already one foot out of the door. Surreal - you kept on repeating the word to yourself as the droplets kept on hitting the windshield, so surreal. The aqueous cacophony left little room for conversation, not that you needed it to fill the space. Over the years you had gotten so comfortable with one another’s presence that sometimes, it was silence that held the most warmth, adoration and meaning.

As the colossal buildings gave way to quaint residential units and lines of serene cafes and shops, an eerie familiarity settled into your heart as you began to look around, head turning back and forth and body moving forward until the seatbelt began to dig into the side of your neck. Counting under your breath, you gasped as your assumption was correct, and the street gave way to another intersection, leading towards one of the many bridges that crossed the Han River, now a rippling stroke of grey ink cutting across the city. Fingers gliding over the bottom of the window to your right, you peered out at the scenery that flew past you - fortunately, Hongjoong had checked the traffic and was skillfully meandering along the concrete canals to the final destination. 

“Are we going where I think we are going?”

“Mm… perhaps.” as cryptic as ever, Hongjoong responded, merging into the lane that would take him across the waters.

Now, you had the directions mapped out in your mind, and even when you let your eyelids fall shut, the calm from being together with Hongjoong after so many phone and video calls having taken over you, with each peek you knew exactly where you were, and where you were going to be next. The next turn was to be right by a PC-bang where you and your boyfriend had hidden away a few years ago after rain, much like this one, had taken you by surprise. Further down the road would be an ice cream shop where you had discovered your boyfriend’s distaste for the mint chocolate flavour. You were so immersed in your accurate guesswork that you had initially not noticed that the rain now had an accompaniment, quiet, barely there, but still sweeter than any other sound you had ever known or heard.

As the car joined the bustling procession across the bridge, slowing down to meet the speed limit until the engine was a timid rumble, Hongjoong’s melodic humming gained control of your every sense. Even though you attempted to gain his attention by giving him a couple of darting glances, he did not spare a single one back, aware of what such an interaction would do while he was singing a song that held so much weight for you both. Released just a couple weeks prior to ATEEZ’s debut, She’s In The Rain by The Rose had become something of an anchor and promise between you. You had been young, you still were, and yet both of you could feel that every step you took together  was one for the long run. As such, you wanted to reassure one another that no matter what, you would stay, to hold one another instead of leaving the other holding on. While the artist had imbued the song with an original meaning, to you and Hongjoong it had transcended literal and traditional symbolic interpretation, becoming an indescribable sensation. Just like an umbrella protecting from the rain, a warm woollen blanket when the nights got cold, a love to hold you up and an embrace when work seemed unmanageable and goals unreachable. 

Now that you were drifting in the notes, humming some of the lines along with your personal lead singer while he progressed into quiet song, enunciating the lyrics with as much affection as his driving-focused mind could muster, you realised that perhaps this was exactly why the licence meant so much to you. You were there along the way, for this ride, you cheered him on, you were the first one he saw and proudly showed off the certification to. You were the one he drove around after he had gained some confidence (though he tended to be overly careful the first dozen times). In this major change, he stayed with you, and was openly hopeful in every gesture and act that you would stay with him, and drive where the two of you would decide to go. Two paths intertwined.

Even when the performance turned into an echo, joining the forecast as another memory, it kept on repeating in the pitter-patter of the droplets, the rain drumming out the song with the diligence and fire of an up and coming star. It took every ounce of strength for you to not lower the window, let the cherished melody wash over you and push you into an all-encompassing reminiscence. The car obediently froze in time, Hongjoong finally satisfied with the parking - a deserted lot, secluded from the majority of sought after destinations on this side of the river, an inconspicuous paradise where, illuminated by the first rays of a bleary sun, your story as two began all those years ago. A click, another, and the seatbelts glided back in wait for the next journey. Words blended with overwhelming emotion were stuck in your throat, and Hongjoong's tender touch on the back of your hand was enough to bring you back to every one of the moments you enjoyed rewatching as you fell into a deep slumber, excited for the stories the next day would undoubtedly bring. Cautiously, your boyfriend turned your hand; palm to palm, fingers intertwined, you were the ripples on the silver waters, blessed with a fluid impermanence, etching eternity in the temporary. 

The other bank, obscured by merciless rain was little more than a mirage, leading you to wonder if you were dreaming. Hongjoong raised your hand, pulling it towards him to plant a kiss on your knuckles, cheeks flushing pink when you chuckled, but refusing to let go. He had decided for himself if this was all a dream, then he never wanted to wake up, deepest slumber now a welcome ally. In this dream, he could create, he could celebrate, he could breathe and share the beauty of intricacies that the simplest joys possessed with you. The corners of his lips twitched as he fought back the tears he promised you he would not spill when waves of love struck him, and yet, it seemed to be the only promise he could not keep. Taking off his favourite glasses he looked over at you, noticing a reflection of his sentiments across every feature, and ignoring the gear shift and hand brake leaned over to drown in your arms, grounding himself in the reality that was you and him. In minor or in major chords, every tune was a masterpiece to him. When he felt the most insignificant, you were there assuring him of his achievements, telling him time and time again that he deserved the world and more. When he was on top of this world, you were there to elevate him to new heights and mark with him every one of his successes.

As he felt your body mould into one with his, and his heart matched the beating of yours, he could only conjure words of gratitude; for the wheel of fortune, the maze that destiny had given him that led to how he was leading his life, for how and when you had found him, and what became of the continuation. Shutting his eyes to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, Hongjoong whispered his thoughts out loud, thanking you for every night and day, the pain and relief, the downs and ups, plans and achievements, his voice falling like the rain drops, eventually letting their monologue prevail. There, in the rain's symphony, bound to metamorphose again and again as the two of you were to grow older, take on new responsibilities, travel in new directions, you found permanence. Tomorrow never looked more marvellous.

🌧️ perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @yunbug @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @burnsmepls @pyeonghongrie-main

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[elfwoodfae]

“Fucked” Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Warnings: NSFW Smut, MDNI.

Author’s note: I have no excuse except tiktok and the game, which is really good, I have never written for Ghost but I wanted to just take a little dip into him and try it out. If you have any suggestions let me know! I literally wrote this in a sitting of few minutes before the idea left my brain, I apologize for any mistakes, let me know if you all enjoy it! Gif not mine! Also this gif is literally how he looks at you now.

Ghost doesn’t dream, at least not often enough or pleasantry enough to be call dreams. But somehow he finds himself inside of one, a dream that takes him by surprise, it makes his insides burn and throw his head upside down. He has you, the new recruit at the base who which he doesn’t interact much but Soap and Captain have taken you under their wing, nicknaming you Kid, an apparent joke at your younger than them age. And he doesn’t really mind you, he doesn’t even want to mind you because he is painfully aware at how you stare at him any chance you get, big doe eyes looking at him, eyes he knows just by staring a little too long into can easily be the death of any man.

He sees you, scurrying away from him, hiding behind Soap whenever he approaches; he has even heard soap comment on how you are “terrified” of him, of how scary he looks, but he knows by the way Soap mentions it that your fear of him is nothing more than the awe of a legend you finally get to meet.

He has never taken you into account, taken you in or stared at you more than a mere second, but somehow he knows well enough every detail of your face that he is able to see it in his dream, so crystal clear and accurate he doubts for a second if this is really a dream, except he is sure he would remember otherwise how you ended up impaled on his cock with both of his legs holding yours open, his mask on your face and your back to his chest as you beg him not to stop.

He can feel you, he is dying from the need to feel you come on his cock, so full of him he knows he would feel every spasm of your pussy so deep in his soul that his heart may readjust its beating to yours. He can feel your wetness, he can hear you tell him how big he is, how full you feel, how his name is escaping your lips like a prayer even tho he hasn’t told it to you yet. Fuck. He can feel your nails digging on his thighs, your head thrown on his shoulder, his lips leaving soft kisses on your skin. His fingers keep moving, drawing circles over your clit, the callouses on them adding to the feeling, he can feel you throbbing ready to bust and his hips snap upward, thrusting into you so savagely he is sure your ass would be bruise tomorrow.

He can feel himself getting closer, grunting against your neck, his cock buried so deep inside of you he can feel it brush your cervix over and over again. So sweet, so warm and so soft he doesn’t understand how on earth you are real. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? This isn’t real, this is a dream he feels himself snap out of, his breathing failing him and his heartbeat so high he would be concern in any other situation, but what takes him by surprise the most is the cum staining his boxers. Fuck he hasn’t cum on his pants since he was a teenager. For fucks sake. He breaths in, trying to control it, trying to think and trying to figure out how the fuck this even happened.

He had never payed attention to you. Never spared more than a second in your presence, but now he can’t seem to spend more than a second without your presence, his eyes burning into you, a switch has been flipped, he can’t control it, he doesn’t understand, he can only observe you, watch as you laugh and talk to the others, simmering on his annoyance when you lean a little to close to Soap, or hug the captain a little too long. Fuck, fuck he is fucked.

[phantasmiafxndom]

If you're available and if you want to of course, could you write about submissive yanderes? Like maybe some guys who are usually portrayed as violent,domineering and abusive? Like Floyd,Jade, Leona, Malleus or Vil. Those are just some ideas, you can do any character or characters you think would work better. Your previous post gave me some...wants and desires.

Ooooh, of course! owo Submissive yanderes are good... it's so much more fun when they're all needy and desperate to please.

. . .

Floyd

• He'll very literally do anything for you. Floyd is prone to reckless decisions, in the first place, but when you're involved, he loses any sense of reason that might have been left. Whatever impulsive idea he thinks will please you happens without a second thought, and every scrap of praise you give him only fuels the habit. And unfortunately, these ideas tend to involve either stupid stunts or violence against someone he thinks has displeased you.

• Floyd always likes playing rough, and with you, it goes double. Since you're way more delicate than him, though, you have to be the one doing the roughhousing. Floyd couldn't bear to hurt you, but there's no problem there— he's plenty tough. If you want to pin him down and sink in your teeth, he'll love it. When you're stressed or frustrated, he's eager to let you do whatever will make you feel better. Every time you touch him, it's a thrill like nothing else, and a little bit of pain only makes it more exciting.

Jade

• He's fascinated by you on every level. Everything you do captivates him, and Jade wants to experience all of the tiny facets of personality that make you who you are. He's clingy in a way that's somehow both subtle and obvious— somehow, he always knows where you are, and isn't far behind. He definitely treats you like something to study, in a way, but the worshipful attitude he takes toward that study makes it oddly endearing.

• Like Floyd, he enjoys it when things are a little rough. But instead of outright encouraging you to be less than gentle, Jade tries to provoke you. His teasing behavior seems to be aimed to get you agitated, yet somehow, it never crosses any true lines. The way he grovels afterward always gets you to forgive him... even though it's disturbing how excited he seems when you lash out. Jade thinks that every part of you is worth adoring, and he wants to see the fullest extent of your good, your bad, and more.

Leona

• He's never cared about anything as much as he cares about you, and being acutely, painfully aware of that does things to Leona that he's not proud of. At first, he has some dignity left; he doesn't want to look whipped or needy in front of you or anyone else. But before long, all he can think about is how good it feels when you're pleased with him— and past that point, pride stops mattering. He'd rather have the bliss that comes with knowing you want him.

• And he wants to claim you in return. You get to see Leona make more of an effort than anyone else ever has, and all for the sake of ensuring you want to be near him. He's viciously possessive and shockingly clingy, always trying to leave some kind of mark on you in the form of a gift, his scent, or anything else that will keep any "challengers" at bay. Deep down, Leona knows he'd do anything for you at this point. Even if it's pathetic, he desperately wants to have you all to himself— and for you to accept that too.

Malleus

• Once he realizes he's fond of you (or more accurately, completely obsessed), Malleus's affection gets a bit excessive. He's never quite realized that he can't have things for himself when he wants them, and you're no exception. You're the first person he's ever felt this way about, the first one who's treated him like an equal, and he quickly becomes fixated on keeping you by his side— in a way, he already thinks he has you to himself.

• He's definitely the type to try to win your affection, but he's also not fully aware of it. Giving you everything he has to offer comes naturally, even when that "everything" goes beyond things like dignity. Malleus has no shame in how much he adores you. To him, your affection feels like the greatest honor in the world. He fully considers himself yours, just the same as you belong to him, and of course, that means he'd do anything to please you. Nothing is beyond his influence, so don't hesitate to take what you please.

Vil

• Oh, he's desperate. Vil is plenty used to having to earn being liked, but with you, he's dead-set on making himself perfect. His feelings for you drag his deepest insecurities right up to the surface, and that ends in a viciously jealous Vil who fears losing your attention every time you show anyone else the slightest hint of favor. If he presents himself properly, you'll love him just like all the rest of his fans— he just can't let himself have any flaws.

• Vil dotes on you terribly. He's always fussing over you, both your looks and your health, and has a tendency of trying to win affection through lavish gifts. But of course, he's the real prize here, and he acts like it. Your approval means everything to him, and when you aren't properly awed by his beauty and endless efforts, Vil is quick to panic. He's borderline neurotic about keeping you pleased, to the point where the slightest feeling of failure drives him to meltdowns— of course, where you can't see.

[jennagrinsoverml]

Everytime I want to read ml fanfics I search in one of your rec lists (and check if you haven't posted anything new on AO3), and my favorite fics are established relationship adrinette, both pre and post reveal. Do you have any recs?? Love your work! ❤️ ❤️

Thank you!! 💖 I definitely tend to read mostly getting together fics (I love the tension) but that’s not to say established relationship doesn’t have its charms! Thanks for pushing me to put together this list because I really don’t rec ER fics enough. As requested, these are all adrienette.

Three Kids and a Hamster by @chatonne-rousse

During a sleepy late-night snuggle, Marinette and Adrien talk about their dreams for the future.

Post-reveal. This is so soft and absolutely gorgeous. They’re together and entirely comfortable together, and it’s beautiful. All of their embarrassing antics and behaviours involving each other are out in the open. “Can I be weird?” precedes these kinds of confessions and it honestly reminds me of my own relationship, where there’s that trust that you can confess anything and be understood and loved anyway. This is peak love square y’all. (@chatonne-rousse writes a ton of established adrienette, so if that's what you like, I highly recommend her stuff!)

morning kisses by @rosekasa​

for once, marinette wakes up earlier than adrien.

Post-reveal. This is short, sweet and just so incredibly softtttttt. (@rosekasa writes a ton of established relationship, and even though I think most of it is ladynoir, if you love these kinds of soft scenes full of sweetness and tenderness, you should check out her other works, if you somehow haven’t already.)

A game of pretend by @emsylcatac

Marinette was certain that Adrien was Chat Noir. She was also certain that he knew her identity. Yet, the both of them were acting like they hadn’t connected the dots and were still oblivious to what was now painfully obvious. She didn’t know if it was a game they were playing at or not, but if so, she had no intention of losing.

Which proved itself to be extremely difficult when Chat Noir suggested on patrol one evening that they go gift-shopping for their lovers together.

Post-reveal but they haven't admitted that they know yet. It's exactly as stupid and ridiculous as it sounds, and I mean that in the best way possible. They love each other and they're so silly and this whole thing is just so cute and fun!

The Purr-fect Gift by @gryffindorcls

Years after the reveal and the start of their relationship, Marinette and Adrien move in together.  To her dismay, Adrien has become distant and quiet after the move.  Marinette just wants things to return to normal, but Adrien has a surprise for her that will change their lives forever.

Post-reveal. Marinette’s so in character and I love her anxious spiraling, even as the ending is incredibly fluffy and PERFECT.

No Excuses by @overworkedunderwhelmed

Even after Marinette and Adrien finally start dating, they still had to be ready to leap apart at a moment’s notice to save Paris.

Of course, finding the right excuse can be all that much harder when the one you love knows you all too well.

Pre-reveal. This is sweet and fluffy, and the identity shenanigans makes it really fun!

Cards on the Table by @sariahsue

After six months of dating, Adrien decides it's time to tell Marinette his biggest secret.  And he knows her so well he can accurately predict her reaction... right?

Pre-reveal. I love the dynamic here where they’re so in love and Adrien knows both his girlfriend and his partner so well, but he hasn’t put it together. And then she goes and surprises him.

Hamsters by @mrs-berry 

A lot of planning and discussion goes into choosing a baby's name. Apparently, the same applies for hamsters.

Post-reveal. This one is just so fluffy and adorable! Come get your tooth-rotting fluff lol

The following fics are amazing and absolutely worth reading, but do feature sexual content, so minors beware.

The Pole Kit and Kaboodle by @chatonne-rousse

When Adrien tries to make getting undressed a bit more entertaining for Marinette, he ends up revealing more than just his underwear.

Pre-reveal. Rated M for sexual content.  Here these two are sexy and silly and hopelessly in love. I love Adrien being comfortable being ridiculous with Marinette and his ridiculous (hilarious) striptease for her. Plus the identity reveal just makes everything even better.

Everyday loving by @alienducky​

Sometimes sex is hot, steamy, burning need, any flat surface will do. Sometimes it’s soft, gentle, slow, with candles and soft music. This is neither of those. This is Marinette spending time with her dork of a boyfriend, and them both trying to have fun.

Post-reveal. Rated M for sexual content. I love this smut so, so much. It’s silly and ridiculous and so, so healthy. I love that this representation of what a normal long term relationship looks like, with lots of communication and laughter! Seriously, it’s criminal how often laughter is missing from sex in fiction.

[cesar-ramon]

She was walking behind him, but he heard no leaves crunching on the ground or any soft footsteps in the damp earth beneath them. It was always so jarring how the spirits were both there and not at the same time. Cesar had it in the back of his mind that he should have been used to it by now; that somehow, he should have become acclimated to having his world view and beliefs rocked and his head filled with the thoughts of others and his sleep should no longer be disturbed by the wailing of the trapped. Her question was enough to keep him present and not lose himself in the fear and discomfort of it all, but he wasn’t annoyed or caught off guard for once. At her query, Cesar simply pushed back his coat and dug his phone out of his pocket. It was an old model with a small crack in the bottom right hand corner of the screen with a weathered  blue-green case that was originally only blue. He paused his stride to look pointedly at Joss with a deadpan stare as he held the phone to his ear. It was just about the only thing he had an answer to.

Resuming his walk, the gates of the graveyard were in view, almost in reach, and there was something sweet about it. Even if there weren’t always many spirits in the graveyard due to them not being tethered to their bodies, but a place or person, he still felt a little weird about spending too long there. He didn’t want to be that guy who sat in a graveyard talking to dirt and stone. Sure, most people would understand it, but he already looked like a homeless drug addict half the time, so he didn’t want to complete the look with ‘insane’ added as an accessory. 

He breathed a sigh of relief as he cleared the gate, taking a minute to once again be somewhat stunned and disappointed in her question before walking again. He placed the phone between his ear and shoulder and held it there as he fished around in his pockets. “ In a perfect world, I would, but this kinda just happened — I don’t understand how all of it really works and to be quite fucking honest, I didn’t get these bags under my eyes from a partying lifestyle.” He admitted with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “ I can’t fucking sleep. It’s a…. It’s just everyone and everything. Sometimes I can’t even hear myself think when people are really going for it. Emotions, they… They make it louder. “ Cesar shrugged as his feet hit the ground, putting distance between himself and where his grandmother lay. “ Sadness is loud. Anger’s loud too.” He informed her. It was the only thing he had figured out. “ If they’re really close, I can hear everything, but anguish… You can be two floors below me and if you’re day’s goin’ bad, I’m gonna know.”

Turning a corner, Cesar paused, his dark eyes hollow and narrow as he watched Joss with a look of disapproval. He held the thought in, but he really felt like he’d hit a knew low having a ghost ripping him to shreds over his lovelife. Or lack thereof. “ You’re a real fuckin’ cut-up, you know that? You ever think about takin’ your act on the road? I’m sure you guys need entertainment, too.” He remarked. He wasn’t going to comment about her painfully accurate assessment, as it wasn’t always the case, but he did pause as her inquiry of his Abuela made him stop and think. For some reason, he was a bit offended by the accusation. “ Now she wasn’t a fucking witch.” He said too quickly, although the idea was already taking root in his mind. 

“She was a nice old lady who immigrated from a shitty country for a better life but ended up in Louisiana instead. She baked cookies and helped the homeless, her whole life was about her family, I’d know if my grandmother was a fucking witch.” Cesar scoffed. He felt oddly annoyed, and yet, his mind latched onto several ideas as he continued his walk once more. His grandmother was a sweet woman, and she always loved to help people. She somehow knew exactly what they needed and had this way of saying exactly what someone wanted to hear and also getting people out of trouble… His face contorted as he posed the question in his mind, but no… That couldn’t have been because she could hear them, right? The question swirled in his mind as he stayed silent without realizing.

The second he dismissed her question she knew it had to be worse than she thought, because like every other man he avoided the truth entirely. For the sake of not stirring the pot she guessed, but the way he shrugged it off sealed the coffin. Whatever had happened to her was done in anger and enough to conjure pity out of an unlikely sympathizer. She imagined her neck with rows of purple and blue bruises but it brought her no closer to the memory, as if her brain were still functioning and trying to protect her from the recollection.

“Right.” She replied between his answer and following question, disbelief in her expression. “You laugh but yeah you should’ve been.” A nervous smile spread on her face, suddenly more concerned that she was going to deliver a half baked performance to a problem she didn’t know existed until now. It would be just her luck that she finally made contact with someone who could actually help, only to find out he needed more help than she did. Her eyes darted to narrow in on details that made themselves more obvious to her now, like the sunken look of gray around his eyes and the crease of stress between his brows.

It probably shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did considering she knew she was dead already, but she hated to know that it was front and center, in eye-line at all times. Of course he had to say she was pretty, he was trying to deflect from the gruesome state of her neck. Drifting in her thoughts her eyes eventually pulled themselves to attention. She couldn’t help but smile at his first rule, laughing at how quickly she knew she would break it. “Yeah, okay.” Luckily it came after an offhand joke otherwise she might not have sold it. “Okay, and how do you plan on selling that having to talk to me? You must have some kind of filter, all those voices at once.”

She followed his pace and glanced over as he made his way through the graveyard, feeling like she was tagging along instead of an unwanted guest. “Couldn’t get a live one so you had to settle for me?” She shook her head and laughed to herself. It was felt like a relief just to be able to make conversation with someone again, and when he wasn’t sulking and sullen he was easier to talk to. “Oh yeah, was she a witch, too?” She was only half joking. “Or did you just never bring anyone home, period?”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Song of Apollo

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Romance Characters: Apollo

Everything had its own song.  Apollo couldn’t hear his, so he improvised.

Day twenty-five of TOApril organised by @ferodactyl, “Songs That Never Go Away”.  I don’t have a clue what this is but also my brain’s been in a slightly weird place all day so that probably contributed to this.

There’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

Music and life were closely intertwined.  Everything had its own song, and as the god of music Apollo knew them all.  He knew the sounds of nature, every ditty and warble the birds made, every cry of an animal, every hum of the plants.  He knew the rhythm of heartbeats, the way no two humans’ sounded exactly the same even though humanity had the measure of pulses and what they meant.

He knew that all those heartbeats had a finite length, that one day, too soon, they’d fall silent, never to be repeated again.

Apollo didn’t remember making the conscious decision to memorise the unique sounds of human heartbeats. Not all of them, he’d seen billions of humans across the millennia after all, but the special ones. His lovers, his children, the mortals he intertwined with deliberately and personally, who flickered through his existence for such painfully short yet bright times, those he memorised. He could recite them all, one after the other, from the first to the latest.  Sometimes he did, weaving them into a single, continuous melody made up of parts that didn’t last long by themselves but as part of a whole had yet to end.

As a god, he didn’t really have a heartbeat.  Not in the same way as a mortal, not a countdown to his demise.  Gods had their own songs, too, their essences singing out to him in their own way, but it wasn’t the same thing.  Not at all.

The only song Apollo couldn’t hear was his own, the same way mortals couldn’t hear their own voices the same way everyone else did.  Not even the best recording was truly accurate to the inflections that made every voice unique, and not even the sharpest ear for music in existence could hear his own song.  He created his own instead, to fill the silence.

It was that same song of the mortals, a storyline to music the way the best songs were, emotions and experiences spinning together into something unique, reflecting the way they shaped him, because they did.  Apollo was not so naïve he didn’t know that the mortals he loved didn’t have an impact on him, one way or another.

Most were subtle, barely there and only a few bars of the song, too quick to be identified if Apollo didn’t concentrate on them.  Others were far more important, major events in his timeline even if they were still the tragically short existences of mortals.  Certain lovers who had left their mark, for good or for ill.  Admetus, Hyacinthus, Daphne, Commodus, to name but a few.  Each of their heartbeat songs spanned several lines, accentuated with a vast array of emotions as Apollo recalled with perfect clarity how each of them had made him feel.

Some of his children also took up large parts of the song.  Asclepius was one, the mortal heartbeat before he joined the ranks of the gods and his song shifted to one of an essence drenched in regret, sorrow and a deep pride.  Will was another, on the far more recent end of the spectrum with a heartbeat that sang of compassion and kindness.

Then there were other, rare additions of mortals who were neither lovers nor children.  Meg was the most recent example, somehow a sister in all but blood whose heartbeat sang of stubbornness, of blooming flowers and fond insults.

Apollo sang the song to himself, over and over again in the sanctity of his palace.  He never had a reason to, yet always had a reason to. His memory was flawless – he was the god of truth, god of knowledge, how could it not be – but he sang it to remember them all regardless.  He sang it to grieve for the too-short mortal existences he had no choice but to let pass to Thanatos and Hades one by one, he sang it to celebrate their memories.

He sang because he wanted to, because music was important and the mortals that had been and gone were important even when he was the only one left to remember them (who cared to remember them), or perhaps because he was so often the only one left to remember them as time continued its ever-progressive trudge and the mortals whose lives they’d touched passed away themselves, leaving nothing but whispered stories and legends of those who had made a loud mark on history, and nothing at all for those who had ghosted under the radar.

He sang and he saw them all in his minds’ eye, from the first time he’d laid eyes on them, to the moments he’d spent (snatched, more often than not, especially in the case of his children) with them, to the instant Thanatos summoned them and he rarely got the chance to say goodbye.

He sang so he wouldn’t cry every time he thought of them.  It didn’t stop the tears at other times, when he remembered their varying fates (so many far, far too cruel, mortal lives didn’t have to end so abruptly but so few of them made to old age and a peaceful death in their sleep; not even the most recent ones, the ones where he’d interfered more than he’d dared for a millennia, had been afforded such a luxury), it didn’t always stop the tears anyway, but it was a way to remember their lives, and not their deaths.

The little things. The colours in their eyes, the music in their voices, the way their faces lit up when something went their way, when they were happy.  The things that made them them, as unique as their heartbeats.  Their parts weren’t even in length because his time with them wasn’t equal in length, for a variety of reasons that sometimes weren’t even Apollo’s fault, but they were the best reflections he could show.

It wasn’t enough.  It could never be enough; for such short lives they all shone so bright.  It was all Apollo had, as millennia passed and everyone else forgot but he remembered.

And it never stopped growing, new heartbeats threading in where the previous had fallen silent, because they were mortal but Apollo wasn’t and the world, his existence within it, wasn’t over yet.

[true-blue-megamind]

FAN THEORY SUPPOSITION SUNDAY: The Warden

SPOILER WARNING!  It’s still a thing, and, if you haven’t yet, you still need to watch Megamind.  (If you have seen it already, however, you need to see it again.  Because it’s awesome.)

Yes, yes, the post is three days late this time.  Real life has to take priority and such. So sue me.  (Don’t really do that.  LOL!)

For that same reason—or more accurately because this week has exhausted me—I will attempt to make this post shorter than usual.  We’ll see how that goes.  My money is on “not well.”  LOL.

Anyway, today we’re going to look at a subject that often divides the Megamind fandom: the Warden and his relationship with Megamind. There are several fan theories—I mean, suppositions—surrounding this, but I’m going to be focusing on a few of the main ones.

The first of these is that the Warden was actually a father figure to Megamind when he was young, allowing him to be raised in jail not out of cruelty or disinterest, but because it was the only way to keep him safe from shadowy government agencies that otherwise would have performed all sorts of experiments on the blue alien.  This both accounts for why a child would be allowed to grow up in what is clearly a high-security prison for dangerous adult criminals—something that, admittedly, needs some sort of explanation—and fits with widely accepted sci-fi and comic book tropes. (From Area 51 to mysterious “Men in Black” type organizations, fiction is full of government agencies created to study extraterrestrial life and technology.)  Some even go so far as to suggest that the Warden may have tried to adopt Megamind officially, but was blocked from doing so by these same entities. On top of this, such an idea also offers room to re-imagine the Warden as a much more interesting, complex, and sympathetic character.  Indeed, there has been some excellent fan fiction written about this pseudo-parental relationship.

Art: Fathers And Sons Day by tabbydragon

There is some evidence to support this.  The first is that, although the Warden behaves harshly toward Megamind in the “jail-break” scene near the beginning of the film, Megamind himself seems to be trying to engage in a playful exchange: pranking the older man, wishing him a good morning, and even teasing him.  While some say that this is simply Megamind’s personality as well as his determination to always appear indominable, others suggest that, perhaps, the blue man is trying to recapture a lost amiability between himself and the prison Warden.  It is possible that, when he was younger and less villainous, Megamind might have exchanged friendly jokes and greetings with the man in charge of the jail he called home.  It has even been suggested that the Warden is so hard on the blue man at the beginning of the film not because he hates Megamind, but because Megamind’s life choices have hurt and alienated his father figure. This idea finds some support in the facts that, when Megamind leaves jail to confront Titan, the Warden wished him good luck, and at the end of the movie, that same man seems genuinely happy as he watches the television broadcast of his one-time prisoner being named Defender of Metro City.  Finally, there is some evidence from the comics which, although not truly considered canon, as I’ve mentioned before, do offer some material for fan theories.  In the “episode” entitled Bad Minion! Bad! Megamind runs into the Warden in a bar, and the latter offers the former advice.  There is certainly a somewhat fatherly feel to the scene.

The second theory is exactly the opposite: that the Warden either did not care for or outright disliked the former supervillain.  Unfortunately, as fun as the Warden/Father Figure concept is, this second, darker idea has far stronger evidence to support it in the film itself.  (Try not to hate me, everyone.)  These clues range from the obvious to the subtle, but there are quite a few of them to be found.

During the first scene in which we see Warden interact with Megamind, he doesn’t behave like an angry, disappointed father—at least not a good one.  He isn’t merely surly toward Megamind; he is absolutely nasty. The Warden verbally condemns the alien, telling him that he’ll “always be a villain,” and essentially steals what he believes is a gift for the blue man, even taunting him by saying: “I think I’ll keep it!”  This hardly seems like the actions of someone who once felt any sort of affection for the extraterrestrial.  That same portion of the movie holds another clue as well: the screens monitoring Megamind’s brain activity.  Indeed, in original concept art for the film, the system appears both more invasive and more nightmarish.  It seems that, far from protecting Megamind, the Warden may have actually allowed him to be experimented upon.

Next, there is the newspaper article at the beginning of the title sequence, which bears the headline “Hometown Boy Makes Bad.” It’s hard to see what the paper says, of course, even if you bother to really notice it, but luckily for us Liz (Demishock) wrote a wonderfully thorough blog post which, among other things, provides a transcript of the “news story.”  In it, the Warden is quoted as referring to young Megamind as a born villain as well as abnormal.  

You don't know this kid. I've watched the little criminal since he was in diapers. This kid is just a bad seed. I've got experienced, hardened criminals in here who are afraid of him - I mean, have you seen the size of his head?…  It's not like he's a normal kid… I mean, have you gotten a good look at his gigantic blue head? I don't know where you come from, but where I come it's just not right.

Granted, there seems to be some truth to what the Warden is saying, as the article also mentions that Megamind, who can hardly have been more than seven years old at the time, has basically been put into solitary confinement for the safety of other prisoners following an unnamed incident, adding that the other inmates “refused to point fingers for fear of retaliation.”  (This fits with the fan theory that young Megamind would have had to both fight and develop a fearsome reputation in order to protect himself. You can read more about that in the post How Strong is Megamind?) However, the Warden seems to dwell a lot on the fact that Megamind looks alien, and he displays an obvious dislike for the young boy.

Finally, there is evidence hidden in the school scene, although it’s easy to miss. In an amazing two-part video series, Megamind: A City of Deception. YouTuber The Theorizer illustrates several hidden clues about Megamind’s early life and how it it led him to embrace villainy.  (I will very likely write another post going into more detail about that at a later date.)  One thing that The Theorizer discovered is a seemingly innocuous detail in the background during the popcorn scene.  Take a moment to examine the images below.  Look closely at the blackboard and you’ll see a paper cut out of a school bus.  Look even more closely at that and you’ll find something odd: the bus is full of crayon-drawn children except for one figure: an adult male, riding in the back of the bus, who looks suspiciously like the Warden as he appears at the beginning of the film. 

In a movie where so much attention is given to small things—I mean, seriously, the animation team actually went through the trouble to write a news story for a paper that was on the screen less than ten seconds—this cannot possibly be a coincidence.  (You can learn more about the artists’ amazing dedication to detail in my post What’s Hidden in the Animation?)  Although it is vaguely possible that Megamind, painfully aware of how much his appearance was despised, chose to draw the Warden’s face instead of his own, most fans believe there is a darker reason for this oddity.  

Think about it: the Li’l Gifted School for Li’l Gifted Kids is built close by a jail with a strangely similar name: Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted.   It’s clearly a small academy, yet the only two known aliens in the city—who, by the way, have extremely different social backgrounds—both just happen to attend there.  And now the prison warden appears to be somehow involved with the elementary school?  It’s bizarre.  Add to this the fact that the young alien adopted by a privileged family—a boy who possessed super-strength and laser vision—seemed inclined to be a bully, (as is made obvious by the kickball scene,) and a disturbing fan theory emerges.  Adults realized that Wayne Smith, the child who would eventually become Metro Man, might prove dangerous if left unchecked, and came up with a plan to turn him into a hero instead.  Wayne was showered with praise, conditioning him to seek public approval, but a superhero needs a nemesis.  The strange-looking, unwanted blue boy who’d already been labeled a criminal would have seemed like the obvious choice.  If this is true, then Megamind was purposefully, albeit covertly, groomed to become a supervillain from a young age, and the Warden played a major role in doing that.

So there you have it.  Two competing fan theories concerning the Warden’s connection with Megamind.  Both have some evidence supporting them, and there are fans who are firmly dedicated to one or the other.  Which is true?  Did the Warden care for Megamind like a son but distance himself when the boy turned to villainy?  Or did he judge and despise Megamind but come around to liking him when he finally realized what sort of person the blue man was deep down?  The fact is that those questions can be argued for hours on end.  No matter which of these suppositions you prefer, however, the mere fact that even a minor supporting character is complex enough to offer room for this debate speaks to the impressive amount of work and devotion that went into creating this amazing animated film.

[eirenical]

The Meta

You enjoy taking stories apart an reassembling them as much as consuming them. You like crossovers, mixing different incarantions of characters and crackfic. You might even enjoy the little author-character interactions you sometimes find at the end of a chapter.

This is it guys, I made the Ultimate Unrelatable Uquiz, in which I armchair-diagnose your fanfic-reading habits.

It’s meant to be a joke, first and foremost, but it’s a functional quiz with legitimate answers, only I deliberately made it exactly as universally relatable as most of the quizzes I’ve recently came across - that is to say, not at all.

We all know how Tumblr is about links, so I’ll share in the first reblog. :)

[citrina-posts]

Avatar: Cultural Appreciation or Appropriation?

I love Avatar: the Last Airbender. Obviously I do, because I run a fan blog on it. But make no mistake: it is a show built upon cultural appropriation. And you know what? For the longest time, as an Asian-American kid, I never saw it that way.

There are plenty of reasons why I never realized this as a kid, but I’ve narrowed it down to a few reasons. One is that I was desperate to watch a show with characters that looked like me in it that wasn’t anime (nothing wrong with anime, it’s just not my thing). Another is that I am East Asian (I have Taiwanese and Korean ancestry) and in general, despite being the outward “bad guys”, the East Asian cultural aspects of Avatar are respected far more than South Asian, Middle Eastern, and other influences. A third is that it’s easy to dismiss the negative parts of a show you really like, so I kind of ignored the issue for a while. I’m going to explain my own perspective on these reasons, and why I think we need to have a nuanced discussion about it. This is pretty long, so if you want to keep reading, it’s under the cut.

Obviously, the leadership behind ATLA was mostly white. We all know the co-creators Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino (colloquially known as Bryke) are white. So were most of the other episodic directors and writers, like Aaron Ehasz, Lauren Montgomery, and Joaquim Dos Santos. This does not mean they were unable to treat Asian cultures with respect, and I honestly do believe that they tried their best! But it does mean they have certain blinders, certain perceptions of what is interesting and enjoyable to watch. Avatar was applauded in its time for being based mostly on Asian and Native American cultures, but one has to wonder: how much of that choice was based on actual respect for these people, and how much was based on what they considered to be “interesting”, ���quirky”, or “exotic”?

The aesthetic of the show, with its bending styles based on various martial arts forms, written language all in Chinese text, and characters all decked out in the latest Han dynasty fashions, is obviously directly derivative of Asian cultures. Fine. That’s great! They hired real martial artists to copy the bending styles accurately, had an actual Chinese calligrapher do all the lettering, and clearly did their research on what clothing, hair, and makeup looked like. The animation studios were in South Korea, so Korean animators were the ones who did the work. Overall, this is looking more like appreciation for a beautiful culture, and that’s exactly what we want in a rapidly diversifying world of media.

But there’s always going to be some cherry-picking, because it’s inevitable. What’s easy to animate, what appeals to modern American audiences, and what is practical for the world all come to mind as reasons. It’s just that… they kinda lump cultures together weirdly. Song from Book 2 (that girl whose ostrich-horse Zuko steals) wears a hanbok, a traditionally Korean outfit. It’s immediately recognizable as a hanbok, and these dresses are exclusive to Korea. Are we meant to assume that this little corner of the mostly Chinese Earth Kingdom is Korea? Because otherwise, it’s just treated as another little corner of the Earth Kingdom. Korea isn’t part of China. It’s its own country with its own culture, history, and language. Other aspects of Korean culture are ignored, possibly because there wasn’t time for it, but also probably because the creators thought the hanbok was cute and therefore they could just stick it in somewhere. But this is a pretty minor issue in the grand scheme of things (super minor, compared to some other things which I will discuss later on).

It’s not the lack of research that’s the issue. It’s not even the lack of consideration. But any Asian-American can tell you: it’s all too easy for the Asian kids to get lumped together, to become pan-Asian. To become the equivalent of the Earth Kingdom, a mass of Asians without specific borders or national identities. It’s just sort of uncomfortable for someone with that experience to watch a show that does that and then gets praised for being so sensitive about it. I don’t want you to think I’m from China or Vietnam or Japan; not because there’s anything wrong with them, but because I’m not! How would a French person like to be called British? It would really piss them off. Yet this happens all the time to Asian-Americans and we are expected to go along with it. And… we kind of do, because we’ve been taught to.

1. Growing Up Asian-American

I grew up in the early to mid-2000s, the era of High School Musical and Hannah Montana and iCarly, the era of Spongebob and The Amazing World of Gumball and Fairly Odd Parents. So I didn’t really see a ton of Asian characters onscreen in popular shows (not anime) that I could talk about with my white friends at school. One exception I recall was London from Suite Life, who was hardly a role model and was mostly played up for laughs more than actual nuance. Shows for adults weren’t exactly up to par back then either, with characters like the painfully stereotypical Raj from Big Bang Theory being one of the era that comes to mind.

So I was so grateful, so happy, to see characters that looked like me in Avatar when I first watched it. Look! I could dress up as Azula for Halloween and not Mulan for the third time! Nice! I didn’t question it. These were Asian characters who actually looked Asian and did cool stuff like shoot fireballs and throw knives and were allowed to have depth and character development. This was the first reason why I never questioned this cultural appropriation. I was simply happy to get any representation at all. This is not the same for others, though.

2. My Own Biases

Obviously, one can only truly speak for what they experience in their own life. I am East Asian and that is arguably the only culture that is treated with great depth in Avatar.

I don’t speak for South Asians, but I’ve certainly seen many people criticize Guru Pathik, the only character who is explicitly South Asian (and rightly so. He’s a stereotype played up for laughs and the whole thing with chakras is in my opinion one of the biggest plotholes in the show). They’ve also discussed how Avatar: The Last Airbender lifts heavily from Hinduism (with chakras, the word Avatar itself, and the Eye of Shiva used by Combustion Man to blow things up). Others have expressed how they feel the sandbenders, who are portrayed as immoral thieves who deviously kidnap Appa for money, are a direct insult to Middle Eastern and North African cultures. People have noted that it makes no sense that a culture based on Inuit and other Native groups like the Water Tribe would become industrialized as they did in the North & South comics, since these are people that historically (and in modern day!) opposed extreme industrialization. The Air Nomads, based on the Tibetan people, are weirdly homogeneous in their Buddhist-inspired orange robes and hyperspiritual lifestyle. So too have Southeast Asians commented on the Foggy Swamp characters, whose lifestyles are made fun of as being dirty and somehow inferior. The list goes on.

These things, unlike the elaborate and highly researched elements of East Asian culture, were not treated with respect and are therefore cultural appropriation. As a kid, I had the privilege of not noticing these things. Now I do.

White privilege is real, but every person has privileges of some kind, and in this case, I was in the wrong for not realizing that. Yes, I was a kid; but it took a long time for me to see that not everyone’s culture was respected the way mine was. They weren’t considered *aesthetic* enough, and therefore weren’t worth researching and accurately portraying to the creators. It’s easy for a lot of East Asians to argue, “No! I’ve experienced racism! I’m not privileged!” News flash: I’ve experienced racism too. But I’ve also experienced privilege. If white people can take their privilege for granted, so too can other races. Shocking, I know. And I know now how my privilege blinded me to the fact that not everybody felt the same euphoria I did seeing characters that looked like them onscreen. Not if they were a narrow and offensive portrayal of their race. There are enough good-guy Asian characters that Fire Lord Ozai is allowed to be evil; but can you imagine if he was the only one?

3. What It Does Right

This is sounding really down on Avatar, which I don’t want to do. It’s a great show with a lot of fantastic themes that don’t show up a lot in kids’ media. It isn’t superficial or sugarcoating in its portrayal of the impacts of war, imperialism, colonialism, disability, and sexism, just to name a few. There are characters like Katara, a brown girl allowed to get angry but is not defined by it. There are characters like Aang, who is the complete opposite of toxic masculinity. There are characters like Toph, who is widely known as a great example of how to write a disabled character.

But all of these good things sort of masked the issues with the show. It’s easy to sweep an issue under the rug when there’s so many great things to stack on top and keep it down. Alternatively, one little problem in a show seems to make-or-break media for some people. Cancel culture is the most obvious example of this gone too far. Celebrity says one ignorant thing? Boom, cancelled. But… kind of not really, and also, they’re now terrified of saying anything at all because their apologies are mocked and their future decisions are scrutinized. It encourages a closed system of creators writing only what they know for fear of straying too far out of their lane. Avatar does do a lot of great things, and I think it would be silly and immature to say that its cultural appropriation invalidates all of these things. At the same time, this issue is an issue that should be addressed. Criticizing one part of the show doesn’t mean that the other parts of it aren’t good, or that you shouldn’t be a fan.

If Avatar’s cultural appropriation does make you uncomfortable enough to stop watching, go for it. Stop watching. No single show appeals to every single person. At the same time, if you’re a massive fan, take a sec (honestly, if you’ve made it this far, you’ve taken many secs) to check your own privilege, and think about how the blurred line between cultural appreciation (of East Asia) and appropriation (basically everybody else) formed. Is it because we as viewers were also captivated by the aesthetic and overall story, and so forgive the more problematic aspects? Is it because we’ve been conditioned so fully into never expecting rep that when we get it, we cling to it?

I’m no media critic or expert on race, cultural appropriation, or anything of the sort. I’m just an Asian-American teenager who hopes that her own opinion can be put out there into the world, and maybe resonate with someone else. I hope that it’s given you new insight into why Avatar: The Last Airbender is a show with both cultural appropriation and appreciation, and why these things coexist. Thank you for reading!

[shadowgeist-stars]

Ren x Gakushu: Nightmares

Ren was standing in the Chairman's office, watching the man pace around him, Araki, Seo, and Koyama with practiced, measured steps. His words were almost entirely unintelligible, but his voice was just like always. The same eerie, low tenor that made his skin try to crawl off his body, like he suddenly had some kind of flesh-eating disease.

Suddenly the monster struck. A huge fleshy mass with eyes so big that they overlapped one another on its face. A mouth so wide and sharply fanged that it could swallow anyone whole and shred them apart in its jaws anyway. Before he knew it, there was an agonizing sting at the back of his head and the better part of his back. Ren was somehow thrown against the wall, pain tearing against his sternum and surrounding ligaments making it nearly impossible to breathe. The others were no different, as if they were flung just as woefully unprepared into the same MMA fight that he was in.

Then he realized all of their bodies hadn't even moved.

For all intents and purposes, their minds had been violently punted from each of their bodies, leaving them as empty shells that did nothing but chant an insatiable desire to kill E-Class. If Ren didn't have trouble breathing before, he was all but suffocating now. It only got worse when Gakushu reentered the room, only to call out to Ren and the others in horror. The mix of anger, disgust, and outright fear with which he stared at his father and his pet beast nearly wrenched his racing heart clear out of his chest.

“Gakushu, please… I'm right here…”

He forced his ghostly form to stand up. Dizziness spun his vision every which way. His shaking feet didn't feel anything close to steady as he tried to stumble toward his friend. The monster over the principal's shoulder only pounced again, painfully crushing his throat in its clawed grip as he could only face that menacing, unnatural grin. Darkness was beginning to dot his vision as it blurred with tears. He reached helplessly for his best friend with whatever vanishing strength he had left, as it all went cold and dark and --

Ren's eyes shot open with a gasp, heart pounding and breathing as if he'd just endured one of Gakushu's soccer games. He lay frozen and tense in his bed, clutching his bed covers and staring at nothing but his own bedroom floor as he slowly willed himself to calm down.

After he finally deemed himself calmed from the nightmare, (and telling himself that No, panic-brain, my blazer that I keep hung on my door is not a monster that's here to kill me) he sat up in his bed and checked the time on his alarm clock.

Only a few minutes after 3 o’clock, in the morning.

Ren grimaced to himself, running a hand through his stupid bedhead. Either Seo or Koyama would probably laugh about some kind of joke related to the time that he’s almost certain he’d rather not hear. However, he just thought it was too darn early to be up, even with something like a very graphic memory/nightmare to blame.

The principal monster from his nightmare flashed behind his eyes, in its own twisted "speak of the devil." What better way of being told by one's own brain that going back to sleep at that moment was not an option?

…Maybe a cup of tea or something warm (and uncaffeinated) would settle him down enough to help.

With a sigh, he got out of bed, pulled on a shirt, and headed to the kitchen.

He knew the house well enough that he didn't have to turn on the lights. He knew every place where the floors creaked, exactly where to stick to the walls and where to simply keep a light foot. The tiny nightlights in the halls kept it just visible enough that one didn't have to stumble around in complete darkness.

Many years ago, traversing his house at night was a game to Ren. One where his eyes sported beams of light to help him see. A game in which the dark wasn’t a monster to fear, but his playmate.

When he reached the kitchen, he breathed a soft sigh of relief. He grabbed a mug from the dish cabinet, but before he could do anything else, he noticed a light.

Light that was coming from the living room TV, partly shadowed by a figure on the couch.

Ren had a feeling he knew who that was. Guess I’m not the only one having a rough night.

With that in mind, he grabbed a second mug before pulling the jar of dried chamomile from the back of a different cabinet, fixing some tea with it.

The person on the couch didn’t respond to any noise he made, which meant one of two things: he was either quite aware of his presence and simply waiting for Ren to reveal himself, or he was out of it to the point of somehow not noticing the brunette was even there.

With someone like Gakushu Asano, there was no in-between with those two possibilities.

The moment the tea was ready, Ren poured it into the two mugs, a small voice in the back of his mind reminding him to put some sugar in Gakushu’s mug. He likes his tea sweetened a little. It’ll help him calm down more easily if he’s tense or had a nightmare, and right now he's possibly both.

He glanced at whatever he was watching on TV, which was turned down so low he couldn’t quite hear it. A documentary: his go-to for calming down from a bad dream. Crime or historic ones usually mean something relatively tame. But this one’s a nature documentary; he only goes to those things when it’s really bad.

The taller boy took a deep breath before heading over, humming a familiar tune and making sure to seek out the one floorboard he knew would creak. A word of advice from a friend, so as to not scare him once in his line of sight.

The redhead made an almost unnoticeable jolt before bright purple eyes met his. (So he really was out of it to a point he didn't know I was there, or at least hyperfixating on the TV.) He was wrapped in a throw blanket and had his legs laid across the length of the couch; he was probably planning on sleeping there if he was able to calm down enough.

“Ren… How long have you been up?” he asked, shifting around to sit properly on the sofa.

He chuckled, setting down the mugs on the coffee table until he was sitting down beside his boyfriend. “Obviously not as long as you.” His smile became a frown when he got no snarky response. “Nightmares keeping you up, too, huh?”

The shorter boy only nodded once, taking his mug when it was offered. “I hoped to be able to sleep again, after getting my mind off of it… And I didn’t expect to be discovered."

Ren hummed, sipping his own beverage. "…It was the brainwashing incident on my end… Araki saying it felt like an out-of-body experience was pretty accurate."

The ginger didn't seem too surprised. "…It was partially that exact incident for myself… and also the immediate aftermath of the pole-toppling match. I still find it hard to forget how badly Kevin and the other exchange students were injured, because of him… it was so severe that they all had to return to their home countries, once they'd recovered enough to do so."

The others didn’t hear much of that when it happened beyond when the paramedics showed up at the school. At the time, they all knew better than to ask while the wound was still fresh. Then again, it wasn’t like he would’ve been coherent enough to elaborate on the situation anyway, given how he fell asleep on the ride home.

"Least they don't have to worry about him hurting them again now…" he replied finally, "or anyone, to be honest. Especially not you." He pulled the strawberry blond boy into his side. "I think you remember well enough… how worried I was when he hit you in front of everybody."

The shorter boy’s exhale reverberated with exhaustion as his head drooped on his lover’s shoulder, followed by the sound of him emptying his mug. “Not as much as I wish I did… but at the same time more than I care to admit. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.”

The brunette smiled sadly at the sheer amount of fatigue in his tone, giving his shoulder a squeeze before finishing his own drink. "All the same, we can say that we're safe from him, and that in itself means a lot… By the way, I would've been alright with you coming over to my room after you woke up from your nightmare."

That only earned him a sleepy, yet sour look. "Why would I do that? I'm not a toddler, Ren."

The brunette snickered, using a thumb and index finger to get the other to face him. "Maybe not, but it's not childish to be afraid or need someone else, even for just a little company. Haven't you felt any better since I came out here?"

Gakushu tried to avert his face. "I suppose you could say that…"

Begrudging victory; I'll take it.

He smiled as he leaned in to kiss the shorter boy. He slipped his tongue in easily, tasting the chamomile's aftermath and practically feeling the remnants of Gakushu's tension and traces of his own nightmare disappear into the documentary's white noise. The ginger all but melted into his arms, the long and lazy kiss bearing down on his eyelids with sleep in a wave of honeyed warmth. Pulling away showed a pair of hazy purple eyes struggling to open again, on an adorable, blushing face.

“I love you, Gakushu; sweet dreams.”

The shorter boy gave a slow, cat-like blink, snuggling further against the taller boy. “Hmm… love you too… Ren…”

Ren chuckled at his slurred speech as he took Gakushu's empty mug from his hands, placing it and his own mug on the coffee table. Afterwards he turned off the TV, pulling Gakushu along as he shifted them around, until they were now both laying sideways on the couch, with a red-haired head on his chest. He managed to resituate the throw blanket over them both, draping long arms over his beloved; one settling across his waist, the other scratching his scalp in rhythmic circles.

He leaned into the crevice between the couch cushion and backrest with a contented sigh. With the weight and warmth of his boyfriend in his arms and the steady whispering breeze of breath in his ears and over his chest, the image of the former principal and the big-eyed monster was nothing more than a fading memory. They were both safe here, in this homey little bubble. Pressing a final kiss to his boyfriend's crown, he laid his own head down and closed his eyes, letting sleep carry him away on a far more welcoming cloud.

It wasn’t the first time they had such nightmares, and it may well be far from the last, but for now, they could sleep without fear, and that was enough.