#you CAN examine the text for yourself and argue for why it comes to the conclusions it does

[fellhellion]

looking up video essays analysing the queer themes of persona 4 has been such an Experience. You will ping pong between white men condescending to u that there’s absolutely no way to read queer subtext (LET ALONE TEXT!) and tiny channels made by queer fans passionately explaining their readings of this game.

[sachirobabe]

Stress fracture | K. Tobio x F!reader

Warnings: Cursing, injuries, timeskip spoilers, arguing, hurt/comfort⚠️

An: repost from my Wattpad

Female reader.

Wc: 1341

"You're so stupid sometimes, Tobio." You sigh as you shut his door for him. He waits for you to round the car and get into the drivers seat before answering.

"Am not." He huffs.

"We're supposed to meet up with your sister and mom, but instead we're on our way to the doctor." You sigh, eyeing him for a second before turning on the car.

"I didn't think I'd get a stress fracture, didn't even know that was a thing." He mutters the last part to himself.

"Your body isn't keeping up with you, obviously you're going to stress your ankle out and injure it." You feel bad for scolding him over injuring himself, but you've warned him for weeks to ease up on the training.

"I should be back in about a week or two right?"

You look at him like he's crazy, "Doesn't it hurt?"

"I mean, yeah, but it's like a minor thing, right?" He continues, not taking his injury too seriously.

You shut your eyes despite driving then quickly open them, "Tobio.. I don't even know what to tell you right now."

"Why's that? I'm being serious." He frowns.

"Yeah, that's the scary part. You'll probably be out for longer than that." You sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to take this too well.

"I can't." He denies.

"Injuries don't work that way." You shrug, "Just focus on getting better, yeah? Plus you've barely been home.. so."

"I spend plenty of time at home." He argues.

"To sleep and eat, but we don't see much of each other." You explain, all of a sudden feeling nervous.

"We've talked about this already." He says, turning his head, finding the window much more interesting.

"And I'm going to say it again, you need to let yourself rest." You're trying your best to not have this conversation blow up.

"Are you sure you're not just saying that so I can be with you longer? I told you how demanding my job is." He crosses his arms.

"Tobio, I'm not trying to argue with you right now." You grip the steering wheel tightly.

"Then what're you trying to do?" He scowls.

"Take care of you. You're injured and I'm concerned at the amount of training you're putting yourself through." You explain

"My training's just fine." He crosses his arms and faces his body towards the window. He's so sassy sometimes.

You decide to leave it at that, the rest of the car ride was silent. The clinic comes into view and you notice your boyfriend shift uncomfortably in the leather seat.

You tried your best to park as close as you can, knowing you'd have to help Tobio get out of the car.

"I can get out myself." He glares and opens the door before you can even turn the car off. You roll your eyes and decide to let him suffer. He begins to walk and immediately scrunches his face in pain.

You walk in front of him and into the clinic, he was being stubborn so you'd let him suffer his own consequences. The lady at the front desk attends you and you're both waiting for your husband.

Tobio is limping as he walks in, pain evident on his face. "Would you like me to get you a wheelchair, sir?" The woman asked.

"I can walk myself." He says to her, she raises an eyebrow and motions for you both to follow her. A small part of him wanted you to help him, but he was never going to ask.

You take it upon yourself to aid him, he grumpily lets you, deep down he's really relieved. His ankle was throbbing. He's finally sitting on the bed in the room, scooting all the way to the back so his injury wasn't just dangling.

His phone is buzzing with texts and calls from his sister and mother, he ignores them and is waiting for you to speak to him. You look the other way, finding the wall entertaining.

He scoffs, what's so appealing about the wall? You don't even react to him. The doctor enters the room and begins to examine his ankle, finally being told he's out for 6 weeks.

The doctor gives you a list of things to help quicken the healing process, you listen intently to what is being said.

"The doctor's more interesting than me, huh?” Tobio says as he's settled in the car.

"Don't Tobio." You warn.

"Now you wanna talk to me? I bet you're happy I'm gonna be home for so long." He says.

"What's gotten into you? All you do is spend your time playing volleyball, I understand that's your job, but when's the last time we had a date night?" You question, beginning to drive.

He ignores your question, "That's quite literally my job."

"I know it's your job, but you're overdoing it. We don't eat dinner together anymore, we don't go out on dates, I go to bed alone and wake up with you already gone." You say frustrated.

"I warned you about this when we first got together, you can't expect me home all the time." He faces you.

"I'm not saying that, Tobio, you're not even listening. You're upset because you have a stress fracture and you're out for 6 weeks. You don't need to be taking that frustration out on me. I just miss spending time together, that's all." You finish your little rant and he stays silent.

Tobio gets out of the car by himself and is waiting by the door for you to open. He limps to the couch in the living room and pulls out his phone. He begins to realize you're right, he's been staying after a lot more and leaving much earlier for practice.

An important match was coming up and he just wanted to be the best he could, unknowingly he was pushing you off to the side. Now he feels like he's an asshole—no, he knows he's being an asshole.

You went up to your shared bedroom and haven't come out since. You've taken some time to cool off and answered some messages, mostly informing his mother and sister about what happened.

Tobio struggles to go up the stairs, at the top he's breathing heavily and sweating. Your head turns towards the door hearing it open.

He limps onto the bed and scoots so his back is resting on the headboard. He didn't even realize as he was getting situated and being careful to not injure himself more, that you'd left the room. "Fuck." He groans.

You now sat on the couch, focused on your phone. Your husband didn't struggle as much as when he was going up the stairs, he made sure to be quiet so you wouldn't move.

He sits next to you and you begin to stand up, "I won't be able to follow you if you go back upstairs." He says out of breath. "Please just stay." His hand reaches for yours, his eyes looking at you apologetically.

You glare at him and sit back down. "What do you want."

He sighs, "I'm sorry for earlier. You're right, I was upset because I'd be out of volleyball. I didn't mean to make you feel like I don't want to spend time with you."

"I know, it just hurt how you kept getting defensive about it. I'm aware of your job being demanding, but we'd still be able to do things and relax." You explain and he listens wholeheartedly.

"I know, babe, I'm really sorry. We have an important match coming up and I went a little crazy." He agreed. "I'll do a better job, I promise."

You smile, "I'm sorry for not helping you get out of the car."

"I deserved it." He laughed, "I know you'll take good care of me, no more running off, I can't keep up." You both laugh.

"Come here." You say and press your soft lips to his. "I'll take great care of you."

[lizzychanstuffss]

Remembrance: Love and Deepspace AU

Au premise: So, what if mc actually remembered everytime she's reincarnated, and what if she regrets the choices she's made in every single reincarnation and is finally using this timeline to try and fix it once she realizes this might be her only chance. But she is entirely unsure if the boys remember their past lives with her, so she must navigate all these feelings along with judging if they remember too. AN: I just really need to write this and get it out of my system cause it's been in my mind for months now. Also, I am gonna write routes for each guy so if you only want one you can just read that lol. Also consider this a apology if you were disappointed by Zayne's MS branch don't worry pookies I got you!!! Also some of this is my own lore to fill in the gaps! Not proof-read I just need this first part out to the world.

Zayne x mc | Zayne x Y/N | Angst | Like mc is hella depressed | mc has a breakdown | hopeful ending | Route: Zayne | Other Routes

Chapter 1: Zayne Prologue

The sun always seems to shine in Linkon, some clouds dotted the blue sky. Holding up a hand to your face to block the beating rays you took in the site of it for a moment before continuing on your way to the Hunter's Association. There was nothing all that special about your walk, there really never was in truth. Although there was a thought, maybe even a hope that you would come across one of their faces in the crowd. But even then, that wouldn't fix much of anything you knew that.

Eventually, your feet carried you to the building housing your work, the Hunter's Association wasn't anything special. But it was, comfortable you had just become a hunter nearly 3 months ago now and you were already settling into this mundane life of what would fit an office worker. But that's not what you are you're a hunter this should be more exciting, shouldn't it?

However, you didn't have long to ponder anything as Captain Jenna tapped on the corner of your glass desk a faint smile on her lips.

"Y/N, do you have a moment?" Jenna's voice carried an air of concern that wasn't uncommon for the woman but this time it seemed like that of a mother watching over her child. Moving yourself to better face her you replied.

"Yeah sure what do you need?"

"Well today I received a call from Akso Hosptial, from one Dr. Zayne himself, he asked me why you haven't been coming to appointments..." Her words ended in a sigh.

Before you could give an excuse she cut you off. "Nope I don't want to hear it, you're going to get your heart checked today I'm dismissing you for the rest of the day."

Your mouth started to open to respond but promptly closed knowing there was no use in arguing this or else you would have bigger things to worry about. "Fine" You kept your wording short before promptly standing to get your things ready.

As you gathered up your stuff a notification popped onto your phone, you paused knowing the ringtone you had set. Funny enough you set it so you know whose message to avoid if they texted you considering that you were about to see the man that this sound had been attached to you swallowed the dread and checked the message.

"Let me know when you get to the hospital I want to make sure to set aside enough to properly examine you"

A weak smile trailed across your lips 'Always the worrier' you let out a huff and then pocketed your phone to finish up packing the things you needed. You realized today might be a little less boring than others it seemed.

Eventually, you made it to the hospital and headed inside, stopping by the reception you checked in with the nurse.

"Ah Y/N? Please come with me Dr. Zayne asked me to bring you to his office once you arrived" She had the obvious hallmarks of a smile beneath her mask and you simply nodded to the woman as she guided you to the door of the chief cardiac surgeon, and also the man who happens to be your primary care physician.

Although not like those words mattered all that much to considering you've been avoiding him for nearly 6 months.

It hurt to see his face.

You thanked the nurse as she walked off. Hesitantly you knocked on the door and were met with a stotic-sounding "Come in"

"Hope I'm not intruding on anything?" Cautiously you opened the door bracing yourself to see a face that plagued your memories with it's haunting beauty.

"Not at all Miss Y/N..please take a seat and we can get started" He gestured to the chair in front of him as you closed the door behind you. Slowly your feet made their way over and you took a seat finally looking at him again.

He looked as beautiful now as he did then.

You adjusted yourself so you weren't just staring at him emptily "Sorry I didn't reply...I was busy getting things in order" Your words had a hollowness to them.

That was one thing you were glad for though, Zayne never pushed you to open up or even be closer to him than just a simple professional relationship. Which made these visits slightly easier all things considered, but even then it feels like someone is stabbing you in the heart when you look at his eyes and take in the reality of the situation you're in at the moment.

"No need, to apologize I assumed as much" You could tell he was lying, there was a hurt to his words that you had learned to read after all this time. Looking away from his face so you didn't have to dwell on painful thoughts for too long before you spoke again.

"No, I really should have said something....I really am sorry" You tried to let the words be, but even then there was something else they were tinged with. An undeniable sorrow, and underlying pain that you couldn't choke down this once. Zayne didn't get to his position for no reason you could tell he felt it the moment the words left your mouth.

He stayed quite a moment before speaking again. "Y/N...I think we should talk" He paused thinking over his words moment "And not as doctor and patient, but as childhood friends"

You hadn't noticed it until he was right in front of you, he had pulled up a chair to be beside you. Looking up at him your lip quivered.

No, he can't know, he can't make you break down like this, this isn't his to bear!

Your heart started to race as you realized he was rather close, that probably wasn't good for your porotcore syndrome but why did you care? Gently he places a hand on your shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze.

It was true that you knew him as a child but that was before the memories started to truly connect. Before you knew what you had been experiencing. All the timelines and memories they were all you, you had done all these things and they had all done so much for you and yet you left them with the tragedy of your death or a scarce you could never even begin to repay.

Zayne was quiet, he could tell you were in your own head. Giving your shoulder another gentle squeeze before he reluctantly let go.

"I'm sorry....for everything" Was all you could manage to say to him, slowly you looked back at him. As expected he just gave you a confused look. Letting out a sigh you shook your head, as you simply accepted the man would have no clue what you meant. And maybe that would be okay in the moment. Even if deep down you wanted more, you wanted to take him into your arms and hug him tight. You wanted to cuddle and watch movies together.

"What are you apologizing for?" Was the next thing he asked, you then realized you were woefully unprepared for when one of them asked what it was you were sorry for. Scrambling for something to say you spoke without thinking.

"For being so distant as your friend! I-I'm sorry for everything In the sense that we've lost touch!" You managed to pull the worse excuse out of your ass. The one excuse that would make you face one of the people you've been avoiding head-on this entire time.

Zayne looked at you again his stoic expression held a subtle surprise "Well then, would you like me to drive you home in that case so we can talk?" He offered it.

You felt like you had no real choice in this, if you rejected you would look like a jerk, and considering growing distant is what you were apparently trying to avoid, even if it was just a lie to cover your true intentions. You couldn't exactly reject this.

"Sure that sounds great" You nodded a few times giving a weak smile.

Zayne nodded to you, a very subtle smile curving his lips as he then begun his examine on you.

And then suddenly in the first time in years now.

You felt that pain, that guilt subside for a moment.

[cottoncandyswisherz]

the sidequest

nick x male!reader (obviously)

warnings: nothing

-

it was graduation night. THANK GOD. nick was in the backyard of someone he did not know with his friends, taking in the feeling of finally being free from the chains of high school when he felt a tap on his shoulder. immediately frightened, he let out a shriek and turned around swiftly.

"holy shit! why are you screaming?!" you asked, having been shocked by him yourself.

"why the fuck would you creep up behind me like a fucking psychopath?!" nick asked his own question in his defense.

"i don't know but why are we yelling?"

this made nick come to his senses and he began taking you in bit by bit, examining every feature he had access to.

tall. black hair. brown eyes. pretty teeth. slight stubble.

he was snapped out of his thoughts by his friends laughing and telling him they'd find him later.

no crushes on the most obvious straight guy, nick. NONE!

you decided to go back to your original approach, trying to be suave and cool. "look, im sorry for scaring you." you flashed a smile and stuck your hand out as an olive branch. "i'm y/n."

nick hid his attraction to your smile by looking at you quizzically and accepting your handshake. "nick."

"i know who you are." you laughed. "you were in my english class first semester."

nick arched an eyebrow and "so why are you just now speaking to me?"

"because when alahna was telling you about how cameron brinks ghosted her, you said, and i quote "i'd never talk to the bums at this school." so i figured, since i don't go to this school anymore, i can get to know you." you flashed yet another smile.

"so.... youre.... a homosexual?" nick was in shock. this couldn't be happening. this HAD to be satire.

"i believe they call it 'gay' these days." you laughed at his wording. "but if that how you wanna put it, then yes, nick. im a homosexual."

fuck. the way you said his fucking name....

nick was ripped out of his thoughts.

"so... would you wanna make a side quest with me? i gotta go to 7/11 for cups because i'm the only sober one and the dummies wanna play beer pong."

"uh..." nick turned to look at his brothers and friends who were all in their own conversation without him. fuck it we ball. "sure but you hav to drive because i don't have a license."

"youre 18 with no license?"

nick rolled his eyes. "don't piss me off, you were doing great."

"oh i was?" you smirked and lifted an eyebrow, stepping closer to him.

nick felt an assault on his senses and he inhaled in shock at your close proximity. but he only made matters worse when he smelled your cologne.

subtle. woodsy.

he had to get the fuck away from you.

"okay just let me go tell them i'm leaving for a second." he said quickly, then walked away promptly.

he walked up to his group, who were laughing about something that was probably so idiotic. when he approached them, they immediately stopped what they were doing and waited for nick to go on a tangent about the attractive guy he was just getting friendly with.

but he didn't. he simply said, "we're going to 7/11. what do you want?" and of course he was met with an array of requests that he couldn't keep up with so he groaned and said "just text the groupchat."

five minutes later and nicks in the passenger seat of a vehicle with someone he'd just met, and he couldn't even bring himself to care.

y/n connected the bluetooth and hit shuffle on his playlist but turned the volume to barely audible.

so he wants to talk....

"so rate your personal 'just graduated high school' experience."

"definately a 10/10. me and my brothers have a youtube channel so now that we're done with school we can fully focus on that."

"yeah, i heard about that. you guys are pretty big right?"

"i mean we have a plaque so..."

y/n laughed at the confirmation.

they rode in blissful ignorance of the rest of the world. talking about everything and nothing at all at the same time.

"no, planet her is superior to scarlet in everyway" y/n argued.

"you have to be joking. scarlet was her comeback. it was proof that she still has it and doesnt give a fuck about the haters who claim to be supporters."

"true. i guess it all depends on how you view music." y/n spoke. "when i'm listening to music i'm looking for relatability. i think i just relate to planet her more right now because it has everything, turn up music, sad music, and that's where i'm at right now... all over the place."

"you can fucking say that again." nick agreed. "i have no idea what the fuck is going on most of the time."

time went on and it seemed like 7/11 was a forgotten dream between the two.

"i'm a d1 ranch hater..." nick admitted after they'd stopped for nuggets and y/n asked for ranch as his dipping sauce.

"fucking psycho"

and that was the end of that debate.

"where do you think you'll be in 10 years?" y/n asked.

"um.. hopefully alive, yknow? that would be ideal."

"right."

"i hope i'm more independent. i wanna have more personal experiences that don't have anything to do with matt or chris." y/n just nodded because his sister was four years younger than him so he couldn't relate, but he wanted nick to know that he understood. "and i pray i'll have gotten my license. um.... i want a house, just by myself. i want to just have my own space. maybe a dog... i don't really know."

"what kind of dog?"

"something small. i have one now, his names trevor."

"i have a pit. her names roxie and she's the laziest creature known to man."

nick laughed at that. "no trevor's lazy too. but he's older now so i guess he's earned the lazy bum title."

"true that."

finally they reached 7/11.

it wasn't that cold outside because it was the end of may but it was a bit windy, which nick vocalized, resulting in y/n taking off his hoodie and handing it to him.

i know you think this was a cute gesture but you're wrong. it was a sexy gesture.

when y/n raised his arms, his shirt rode up a bit, so nick could see the bottom of his stomach and the small tuft of hair leading to the waistband of his sweats damn near had nick foaming at the mouth.

"here." y/n handed nick the hoodie, snapping him out of his vulgar thoughts.

entering the store nick and y/n went their separate ways, y/n getting the cups and nick getting the snacks for his friends. when they got to counter nick waited for y/n to pay for the cups only to be told, "put your stuff on the counter."

and that was that.

back in the car, they didn't really talk. just listened to music and sat in a comfortable silence. 

when nick and y/n got back to the party, nicks group was curious to know what the fuck went on in the hour they were gone and y/ns friends wanted to know why he took an hour to get solo cups. so they went their separate ways and continued having fun with their friends. 

but the rest of the night, nick couldn't forget the fact that y/n never asked for his number or anything so how the fuck were they ever gonna talk again. 

and they had to talk again.

but y/n never came up to him. never even looked in his direction.

and my the time nick sent the "my crew let's go!" text to the groupchat, he'd convinced himself that this awesome guy he'd just went on an adventure with was a one time experience. 

until... 

niyah speaks sum slight finally did my taglist guys yaya

taglist: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @jnkvivi @sturnsslut @zniyadgaf @koilaniazul @thisisntmattsturniolo @nyktoxs-lover @l0akkzz

[sneezypeasy]

Watsonian vs Doylist Analyses - A Couple Points of Clarification

I just want to clear up a couple of misunderstandings I may have unintentionally contributed to in my previous references on the subject:

1. There can be multiple explanations (multiple Watsonian explanations, multiple Doylist explanations, multiple of each etc) of a given scene or character portrayal or plot point, and people can accept more than one explanation at the same time. It's just uncommon for people to accept or present multiple explanations at once because that's kind of how people people.

2. Doylist takes aren't inherently "better" than Watsonian takes, and vice versa. People use both to engage with the text in different ways and for different purposes. Watsonian logic is fun for roleplay or immersing yourself into the story, and I imagine a lot of fanfic writers often start from a prompt like "I wonder what would happen next if I took x character and then put them in y scenario". Doylist logic is fun if you like examining the text from a more "meta" standpoint, trying to see what purpose various narrative choices serve (or undermine). Neither angle is intrinsically a more valid way to engage with fiction, and you might enjoy doing one thing one day and another thing the next - with different texts or even with the same text.

In litcrit, because I like to pick my brain on the subject of "what would have made for the best story here", I tend to be more interested in analyzing theme, character arcs, setup and payoff etc, which are Doylist interpretations. Some people focus a lot on authorial intent, which is also a Doylist perspective (just a different one). Some people like to try to get into the heads of the characters they're analyzing and discuss ideas like "what choice would make the most sense for x character given who they are as a person". That's a Watsonian take. There are contextual and individual reasons why some explanations may resonate with you more than others some of the time or even most of the time, but they're really apples and oranges. Which one you prefer will likely vary depending on the type of question being posed and what scope seems to be the most appropriate for it - and people are always going to have different opinions about that too... because that's how people people.

Of course, the opinions I personally care enough about to splash all over the internet are going to be opinions I hold with very strong convictions, which is why I can come off quite aggressive about them, but they're still just opinions and there's no such thing as "one true explanation", whether that's Watsonian or Doylist. If I make a Doylist argument and I dismiss someone else's rebuttal on the basis of it being Watsonian, that's not because Watsonian takes are intrinsically weaker, it's just because you generally can't use a Watsonian take to rebut a Doylist one or vice versa. You need to engage with someone's point in order to counter it, and you can't generally do that when you completely change the scope of the question, which is what tends to happen when a Watsonian perspective and a Doylist perspective comes into conflict.

(Of course, you can argue that a Doylist scope is situationally stronger than a Watsonian one or vice versa, but that's a different argument and usually context-dependent lol - point is just because a Doylist answer might fit one particular prompt much better this time, doesn't mean all Doylist answers will always trump all Watsonian answers in every single context all of the time, and that's not even accounting for the fact that you're never going to reach unanimous agreement about these sorts of things anyway.)

I hope that clears things up 😊

[brokenpieces-72]

Graves Circumstance

Part 3 | Navigation

TW: anxiety, some violence, let me know if I missed any

As you walked around you found yourself experiencing some anxiety. Graves noticed you bracing yourself against posts and benches. Phil stopped every time asking if you needed to take some time. It took little for him to help you sit on the ground to let you breath through it. Right now his primary concern was you. You were waiting for the police station to call you in to retrace your steps and hopefully find where you had been held for so long.

“You sure you want to do this today?” He asked. You needed to do it today, but Graves didn’t want some kid traumatized all over again.

“No… but I want to… I need to.” You said. Phil was impressed. You had guts, and a strong will. Recovery would take time, and he wasn’t about to force anything. Almost didn’t want you to go retrace your steps. Worried you might rush in and crash. If this is what you thought was best he wasn’t going to argue. He checked his phone and still no call or text. Maybe the cop from last night had said something.

“You ready to keep walking?” He asked. You nodded.

“When we go to the station, if you ever feel unsafe or like you need to brace yourself, you speak up. If you can’t, then pat me on the arm, or squeeze my hand or something. Okay?” He asked. You nodded again, and he helped you up to your feet. Just in case you held on to his arm.

Phil wasn’t exactly a patient man, but this was beyond ridiculous. It was the afternoon and no call from the police asking you to come in. Phil tried calling them and got a voice mail. A police station with a voicemail? Really? A small town but come on.

Graves decided to take you there directly, fed up with waiting. When he took you there they explained they had some other things come up. For fuck’s sake, they had a minor come to their precinct carved, bruised and almost naked, and they’re telling him this now? This was a problem. If he had to tell his boys he couldn’t show for some things they would understand but this wasn’t something any station would just put on hold. Had they even gotten in contact with your parents or next of kin? No? Then what hell is he supposed to do with you?

“Mr. Graves we can take care of them, assign an officer to them for witness protection instead.” The cop offered.

“One of your boys already did last night and I told him no.” Phil argued. “Now why the fuck isn’t this case being examined more closely? Or is this not the first time a young kid comes to your station like that?”

“Mr. Graves may I remind you that you have no jurisdiction here, nor are you my superior. So either get out and wait until we call you or leave Y/N with us.”

“I have half a mind to take them to the next town.” Phil continued. “If this doesn’t get sorted soon I’ll sort it myself.”

“And you have no authority Mr. Graves.” The cop said. Phil wouldn’t admit it but he wanted to hit the cop in the face. You were too young to be dealing with this kind of shit.

“I don’t get a call by tomorrow morning I’ll go with them myself. Authority be damned.” Phil warned before storming out of the station, retrieving you on the way out. He was pissed. Something is fucking around and he’d had enough.

Phil got you into the truck and sat in the driver’s seat. No information on you. No information about your case. No one seemed to give a shit. Graves sat there trying to think of what he could do next. Something Phil doesn’t like is when people put him in a box. If he can’t get the cops to help then he’ll help you himself.

He looked in the rear view mirror, and saw you staring out the window. Something didn’t sit right. If you’d shown up to a police station like that, and in a small town like this, the cops would be sending out warnings to locals, there would be manhunts for your captors. More alarms would sound, so why was your appearance only chiming bell? These guys were treating it like it was just another case on their list. At this point he wanted to call Laswell but after everything that had happened she was busy. And he wasn’t someone she’d be willing to talk to.

“Kid?” He asked, noticing you get comfortable under the new blanket. Wait wasn’t that in his bag at the motel? Whatever not important. You perked up to listen. “Let’s take a small trip.”

He put the truck in drive, and headed back to the motel to gather your stuff. You’re fidgeting in the seat, like you wanted to say something. He knew what you wanted to ask, but right now he was banking on your trust. No doubt his reaction to the news broadcast didn’t help your trust issues.

“Need you to trust me here kid.” He said reaching the motel easily enough.

“T-trying.” You said.

“Need a minute?” He asked. You nodded and he got into the backseat. You weren’t tearing up and breathing hard again. “Can you name five things you can see?”

“Uh… the car seat… your brown hair… the motel door… that tree… the door handle.”

“Four things you can touch. Can you name those?”

“The blanket… the seat… my hoodie… warm socks…”

“What are three that you hear?”

“Your voice… um… my breathing… I think my stomach…”

“Two things you can smell? Can be anything.”

“The truck… your after shave… I think it’s your after shave.”

“Body spray, but good enough. What’s your…favourite taste?”

“… dark chocolate.” You answered. Graves nodded.

“Alright, I’ll get you something to eat but right now we’re gonna get our stuff and blow this stand.” He said.

“No fucking- kid stay in the truck.” Graves said putting the truck in park.

“What’s going on?” You asked, as he undid his seatbelt.

“Stay in the truck.” He repeated, pointing to you before closing the door. He stormed over to road block where a couple of cops were standing behind concrete barricades. Hell no, they did not get to pull this shit with him.

“The fuck is this shit?” He demanded.

“Sir, please get back in your truc-“

“Tell me what the fuck is going on first!” He barked at the officer.

“When you tell me what the fuck is with your attitude then I will, until then why don’t you cool off in your truck first?” The cop barked back getting in Graves face with the barricade between them. Graves stared the cop down, pressing his lips and taking a minute. He was a commander, not a sergeant and didn’t like being pushed around. Right now he didn’t get that luxury. He had to reel it in a little.

“I’m sorry officer…?” Graves said, taking a breath.

“Hodgkins.” The officer replied, his face stoic. The more names, the better. Certainly would report them for this crap.

“Been a long day, just trying to get home. My kid misses their mama very much.” Graves exclaimed. Hodgkins glanced down at Graves hand, not seeing a wedding band.

“Are they now?” Hodgkins asked, doubt very heavy in his voice.

“Joint custody. Not the favourite parent.” Graves said, with a half grin. Hodgkins leaned over to try and get a look at you in the truck.

“Small avalanche, pretty much covered the road.” The officer said, as if it were obvious and right behind him. Graves didn’t like that. “There’s a motel in town, you can call your ex to let her know you’ll be late. Sure your kid can understand, that leaving town right now is not an option.”

That last part was a warning and threat, one Graves didn’t take kindly. Phil gave the officer a curt nod, thanked him for the time and got back to the truck. You jumped when he opened and closed the truck door, before turning the truck around and driving back into town. Graves was thinking and fuming. The tension could be hit with a hammer.

“…kind of wish I stabbed him with the fork?” You asked. Graves’ gritted teeth loosened when you said it, smirking.

“Yeah. It’s getting late, and you need a proper dinner.” He said, changing the subject.

While the two of you walked back to the motel Graves was the one scanning the area. He seemed distracted as well. If you wanted to look at some stores he went with you, if only just to look around and kill time.

At one point you come across some plush animals. Your face seemed to light up a little seeing the cute little toys.

There’s a beagle plush with little bandanna around its neck. Graves doesn’t mind getting it for you. He noticed on the drive back his demeanour probably scared you a little. You hadn’t tried to say much of anything and you were often pawing at a blanket or pillow. You were a teenager sure but something you could hold and squeeze couldn’t hurt to have.

At dinner, Graves was able to get takeout and brought it back to the motel with you, while you were thinking of names for your new friend. By now Graves was your living shadow, watching over you, not letting you out of his sight.

“Bailey? No…” you thought out loud.

“What’s wrong with Bailey?” Phil asked.

“Doesn’t look like a Bailey.” You answered. “What about Bagel?”

“Bagel the Beagle… sounds like a kid’s cartoon.” Graves commented.

Once inside you took off your shoes and flopped onto the bed.

“Just in case kid, could you sleep in the further bed tonight?” Graves asked. You looked up at him and then at the closed and tightly locked door. You crawled off the bed and sat on the edge of the other one.

As Graves set the food down on the small counter you figured now would be better than never. “Are we stuck here?”

Graves shrugged off his coat. “If I can’t track down dynamite to blow up that barrier then I’ll find the components.”

Your eyes go wide realizing the situation. You were still trapped. Your cage had merely expanded and given you new privileges. No no, you were so close. Without realizing you were rocking and clawing at your arms, muttering to yourself. Graves came to your side immediately.

“Hey. Look at me. Look at me y/n. I’m not gonna get you out of this. You understand?” His words were firm and stern.

“… it can still find me!” You said, panicked. “I’m gonna get you out of this. I will do everything I can, you got that?” Graves said firm, holding your shoulders. You sniffled, trying to tell yourself that was true. You looked past Graves and eyes widened and your cried out. Graves turned to see a figure peering in the window before trying to run off. Phil was faster. He reached the door and opened it to find an older man. The guy looked startled, but Graves had him by the shirt and against the wall.

“Who are you?!” He demanded.

“Dude, I’m sorry! I swear I thought it was my room!” The guy said, terrified. Graves stared him down.

“How long have you been at the motel for?”

Graves asked. The guy was confused, and Graves shoved him into the wall again.

“Dude I swear! I’m sorry if I scared your kid! I was just checking, my buddy said he got us a room! I just misread the number!” Graves let the guy go, and requested his phone. The guy gave it up quickly, hands up, and pressing against the wall. Graves found the text messages, and sighed. He returned the phone.

“Thank you for your time.” He said, letting the guy tremble some more while he returned to you. He shut the door and locked it drawing the curtains again. When he turned around you were gone.

“Shit… kid?” He called. Graves was cautious now. The guy hadn’t gotten far from the room when Graves caught him. Graves peeked around the beds, and couldn’t find you. He turned the light on in the bathroom. “Kid I’m coming in.”

Graves looked around the door and even drew back the curtain of the shower. Not there either. Then he heard a sound from the counter in kitchen area.

Graves got to the counter and knelt down. He kept his voice down. “Kid it’s me. Gonna open the cupboard now okay?”

Graves opened it and found you inside, curled up tighter than he ever thought possible. You looked uncomfortable and a little stuck. “Ya need some help there partner?”

It was a little awkward but Phil got you out of the cupboard and told you what happened. You just stared at the curtains as he spoke, thinking every shadow that passed seemed to linger for too long.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hi Cat!! Hope you're well. I've been wondering, and I don't have anyone to talk book to, so here I am.

What do you think of reading books that might not be written very well? Like don't get me wrong I love a good book where I'm none stop thinking about it and examining it because my mind is blown on how someone could possibly write this, but sometimes, especially when I come back from a reading slump, I just like to read something that makes me feel good.

For example, Iron Wing. I skim a bunch of the parts that are boring, but for the most part, I can enjoy it. But I'll doom scroll on tiktok for a bit feeling bad because I'm apparently reading a book that sucks and everyone hates.

I'm not talking about Collen Hoover type books screw her for ruining booktok.

Hm. Hm.

First of all, thank you for the question! I’ve had this discussion quite a few times and lots of people don’t really like my opinion about it, arguing that literature is entirely subjective and as long as you like it, it’s good literature.

Literary criticism is a fundamental part of literary theory and in my opinion it’s quite important to be able to analyse and criticise texts. Simply, because with literature you cannot only communicate but also manipulate your audience.

Literature has always been more than simple communication and I don’t think that anyone should consume media without thinking about it and criticising it. Because the subtext truly delivers the message.

What is this text about? What is its meaning? Why does it exist in the first place?

Personally, I wouldn’t want to read/watch a story that doesn’t have anything to say — something that is just scene after scene with no actual meaning. That’s a waste of my time.

However, when it comes to “badly written” as in “I dislike the writing style,” that’s different to me.

I read the Spy x Family novel a week ago and personally, I don’t think the writing style was that good. It definitely felt more like a screenplay for an episode.

That could be a translation problem though since I have the English copy. However, the themes and subtext of the little stories, the character dynamics and characters themselves are so dear to me and well-written, I cannot help but enjoy the story.

All together, I think there’s a difference between a good story and an entertaining one. To say a story is good because it is entertaining doesn’t make much sense to me whereas a story obviously can be entertaining because it’s good. Story structure and character dynamics do have certain “rules” you have to obey while writing to make your story work.

I can acknowledge that particular stories aren’t good but entertaining, but arguing that a story is good because it’s entertaining isn’t a valid argument. (In my opinion)

That being said, other people’s opinions on a book you like shouldn’t matter to you. Once you have that book in your hands, the words are yours to read. The text is yours to consume and no matter how you decide to consume media (with criticism in mind or not), do what you think is right for you.

Personally, I believe it’s important to listen to other people when they have valid arguments and make a good point. And even then, you don’t necessarily have to agree with them. I just cannot consume media without turning my brain on. (Unless it’s a show that’s playing in the background because I need someone to talk or I’ll go insane)

But as always, don’t let a random writing blog on tumblr tell you what to think. You have to decide for yourself.

[celestiababie]

Make Yourself At Home Part 1 - K.MG

Pairings: Mingyu x fem! reader (Wonwoo is in this, but it's purely platonic)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, established relationship

Warnings: mild arguing, crying, lack of communication, slightly suggestive at the end (?), let me know if I'm missing anything

Word Count: 2.415k

Summary: After months of barely seeing your boyfriend, he offers a solution to a problem threatening the well-being of your relationship

A/N: I finally edited this and am posting it....let me know if you'd like to see a part 2 with smut. Thank you for reading and feedback is greatly appreciated, please don't be a silent reader!

UPDATE: Part 2 is out!

Part 2

"Mingyu! You're back early...I ordered some food you can help yourself-"

Wonwoo's words stop abruptly as he examines your shivering figure, eyes slightly puffy with a few tear stains still on your cheeks. This was the last thing he had expected to see when he heard the front door unlock.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" You hear the concern laced in his voice. It forces tears to well up in your eyes as you softly shake your head.

Things weren't okay.

At all.

"Baby..what are you talking about? Of course, I care about you. I've always cared about you. I'm just busy right now, and you know that."

Mingyu sighs in frustration over the phone, his emotions louder than his words. He knew you had every right to be upset, but to question his love for you? That was taking it a step too far. Mingyu dedicated as much time in his schedule to you as he could, but there were times when things would suddenly come up. You were typically understanding. However, he could tell from your voice that you weren't up for letting this one go today.

"You should have at least warned me!" You whisper passionately over the phone, trying to be quiet in the dimly lit space. You felt pathetic trying to avoid the sympathetic gaze of the waitress who asked you if you were ready to order about 6 times already.

"My phone is about to die from how many times I've texted and called you. Do you know how stupid I look right now? I look like I've been stood up."

"You weren't stood up—" he counters, unable to finish as you cut him off.

"Yes, I was, Mingyu. I've planned to come here with you for months, and I'm here all alone. Maybe I should start getting used to being alone since you never make time for me anymore. When was the last time we even went out together? I swear I talk to your own mom more than I talk to you nowadays," you mumble over the phone as you collect your things.

You politely bow to the waitress as you make your way out of the restaurant, realizing Mingyu won't be joining you tonight, not even coming in late.

Your heels click along the sidewalk, mindlessly walking in a direction as you hear Mingyu let out another frustrated sigh over the phone.

"You never told me you had an issue with it, Y/N. You can't expect me to just read your mind."

"I was trying to be supportive, but it's just getting too much lately, and I fucking hate it," you spit out, your frustration level rising as the phone call prolonged.

"If you're so upset all the time, why the fuck are you even with me? I don't want-" Mingyu's words abruptly stop, the silence coming through the phone. You pull your phone away from your ear as you watch it die.

I don't want-

His unfinished words ring in your head as you panic, trying to finish his words for him.

I don't want to be with you anymore.

I don't want you.

Maybe he wasn't busy. Perhaps he didn't break things off this entire time out of the kindness of his heart.

Maybe he was busy, but the distance made him realize he didn't want to see you again.

Tears uncontrollably run down your face, a wave of emotions crashing into you. It takes you a few minutes to calm down enough to hail a taxi, giving the driver an address.

Mingyu's address.

Wonwoo nods to your words with an unreadable expression as you explain to him your current predicament best as you can, even though you choked back tears.

"I-I shouldn't have even come here. I'm so stupid." You tilt your head down, your heels coming into your blurry vision as your tears have no choice but to fall to the floor.

A wave of embarrassment washes over you, suddenly self-conscious over crying about your boyfriend, to not only his roommate but his best friend. 

Sure, you and Wonwoo got along and were friends even, but you two were definitely not close enough for you to be this openly a mess.

But Wonwoo was a nice guy who cared about his best friend and knew how much you meant to him. He knew how much Mingyu was missing you recently, the constant complaints about his schedule becoming frequent. Wonwoo hated watching his usually optimistic and cheerful friend slowly deteriorate from not seeing you.

Wonwoo awkwardly watched you silently sob as he raked his brain for ideas to help you calm down.

Clearing his throat, he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently patted you, causing your head to lift, your eyes meeting his.

"You said your phone died, right? How about you take a shower and change into some different clothes—I think I've seen some of your clothes in the washer before; you can always wear Mingyu's and try and relax. I don't think you're in good shape to talk to Mingyu now, but I'll call him and let him know you're here. I can leave when he comes home. If you two want some more privacy..."

You listen to Wonwoo's words carefully, giving them some thought before softly nodding your head.

"Thank you, Wonwoo."

He gives you a reassuring smile before he treads to his room, most likely to call Mingyu.

With a deep breath, you kick your heels off, carrying them in your hand as you walk towards Mingyu's room, ready to wash all the makeup-stained tears off your face.

You lay in his bed, staring at the white ceiling, face rid of tears and makeup. You feel your now charging phone buzz beside you, the name on your screen making you hesitate before answering.

"Hello?" You nervelessly, wrapping your arms that were now drowning in one of Mingyu's hoodies for comfort.

"Are you still at my place? I don't want to make you wait, but I won't be home until another hour or so—please wait there, okay?"

Mingyu's voice is void of any frustration from earlier, instead full of warmth with a tinge of desperation.

"Okay, I won't go anywhere..." you respond, nervous to see him but in need of his comfort.

Silence fills the air, not the awkward kind like earlier with Wonwoo. No, the comfortable kind as both of you thinks of what to say next.

Mingyu breaks the silence first. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. And Wonwoo told me what you thought I was gonna say; I promise it wasn't that. I said that I didn't want you to be unhappy. I never want to make you unhappy, baby."

You let out a shaky breath as you nod over the phone before realizing he couldn't see you.

"And I'm sorry for assuming the worst. I was just scared since I thought you might've lost feelings for me," you responded as you rolled onto your side, snuggling underneath the blankets that held Mingyu's scent you loved dearly.

"I never lost feelings, baby. Honestly, how busy I was made me realize I love you even more. I love you so much, Y/N," he breathes out.

"I love you too, Mingyu."

Mingyu groans over the phone, his manager's voice interrupting the moment between you two.

"I have to go, but I'll be home, and we can talk more, okay? I love you, bye."

The call drops before you can respond. Although you were still shaken up about today's events, the corners of your lips curled into a soft smile, reassured of Mingyu's love for you even if there were still things that needed to be addressed.

Maybe the two of you were gonna be okay.

Your eyes flutter close as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his pillow, inhaling softly, and before you know it, you begin to drift off, Mingyu's scent easing you into a slumber.

Mingyu's heart swells at the sight of your sleeping figure as he walks through his bedroom door. He gently sets his bag down, trying not to disrupt you, and sits down on the other side of the bed as softly as his large frame would allow him. His hand reaches out to lovingly stroke your hair, his fingers running through the locks of your freshly washed hair. A smitten smile makes its way onto Mingyu's face, finding it adorable as you subconsciously nuzzle your head into his hand as if you craved his touch even in your sleep. 

The only thought on Mingyu's mind as he made his way home was you, going over everything he'd say, but all those thoughts fled his mind the moment he saw you sleeping comfortably. As much as he wanted to tell you everything in his mind and heart, he didn't have it in him to wake you up. But as his hand leaves your hair, you wake up just as he stands up from the bed. 

"Shit- did I wake you up? I'm sorry, baby." Mingyu's words fill your ears, not fully grasping them in your half-awake daze. 

"Mmmh, it's okay, Gyu," you mumble as you sit up, turning to wrap your arms around his waist. With a smile full of affection, Mingyu's hand finds itself back on your head, softly stroking your hair and nearly easing you into sleep again.

"Hey— don't fall back asleep on me," he softly giggled, his heart swelling when your eyes stared into his. Leaning his tall frame down, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before pressing his lips against yours, capturing you into a sweet kiss. 

Although Mingyu wanted to enjoy the kiss, the sound of your upset voice from earlier intruded on his thoughts, reminding him that he didn't just want to kiss and make up, ignoring the issue at hand. Even if you forgave him for tonight, he knew there were deep-rooted problems with your relationship that wouldn't go away after a few sorry's and kisses. 

When the call dropped, Mingyu's entire being flooded with worry. Worried he had said something wrong, worried you didn't want to put up with his bullshit and busy lifestyle anymore. He always admired how patient, understanding, and loving you were. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he'd have you by his side forever, but maybe his love for you blinded him from seeing how much pain he was causing you. Of course, he missed spending time with you. He missed going on cute dinner dates, roaming the city with you, and giving you all his attention. He longed for the days when you two wouldn't do anything, not even go to his house, as you just enjoyed each other's company, kissing, cuddling, and being in love. 

Thank God for Wonwoo. When Wonwoo called, Mingyu felt conflicted. Mingyu was relieved that you were safe and went to his apartment over your own. But, on the other hand, his heart broke when Wonwoo told him you were in tears. 

Luckily, Wonwoo was a quick thinker, and though it wasn't his relationship, he wanted the best for you two. So, when Wonwoo offered an idea that he thought could help the current predicament, Mingyu was all ears, almost upset that he hadn't thought of it first.

You pulled away from Mingyu, noticing how in his head he was during the kiss, worried that the phone call before you fell asleep meant nothing.

"Gyu, is everything alright?" 

Mingyu bites his lip and sits beside him, rubbing his suddenly clammy hands on his jeans. He hoped this worked.

" I love you so fucking much. And I'm sorry I haven't had the time to show you how much I love you. We apologized over the phone, but my schedule isn't changing soon." 

The downhearted look on your face causes him to grasp your hands, flashing a reassuring smile that leaves you confused.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Let me finish, baby." 

You hesitantly nod your head, encouraging him to continue. 

"I can't promise you that I'll be able to make it to every date, but I will try my hardest to let you know beforehand. And I can't promise we'll be able to spend as much time together as we'd like to...for a while, but I was wondering if— and this was Wonwoo's idea, so don't worry about him having an issue with it! I was wondering if you... wanted to move in. You'll be here when I come back from my schedule, or I'll be here when you come back. We can see each other at night at least, and we could spend our mornings together. It may not be going on dates, but at least we'll see each other..." he trails off, nervous of your response—well, lack thereof.

The cogs of your brain were turning, trying to digest what you heard. Living with Mingyu (and Wonwoo)? One of your favorite things about Mingyu was the warmth of his arms wrapped around you at night, your touchy boyfriend claiming that holding you helped him sleep. You always found his sleepy clinginess endearing. Conveniently, another thing you adored about Mingyu was how cute he was in the mornings, even though his hair was messy and his eyes could barely stay open. The morning huskiness in his voice never failed to make your heart flutter. 

A warm smile crept onto your face at the thought of having that domestic side of Mingyu every day, wrapped up in each other's arms every night, even if you couldn't have time for each other during the day. 

Without responding, you cup the side of Mingyu's face and pull him into a deep kiss, catching him off guard. Moans were exchanged as both of your hands roamed each other's bodies. 

"Is that—mmph., is that a yes?" He mumbled against your lips, still in need of a clear answer. You chuckle against him, the feeling of your lips curling upwards causing Mingyu's to curve as well, your happiness infectious.

"When can I move in?" You ask, pulling away with a bright smile and light in your eyes.

Mingyu matches your smile, his hands creeping underneath your (his) hoodie, caressing and gripping your waist before laying you down, your back plush against the soft comforter. He holds himself above you, one of his hands landing beside your head while the other continues to explore your body. 

"Anytime you want, baby. Make yourself at home."

[thevalleyisjolly]

Ok.  I want to step back from the brain slug ethics for a moment, and talk about Norman Takamori more broadly as an East Asian character and what that means both in general and for this show.  Because if you look at the role that Norman has occupied this season, it embodies quite literally how (East) Asian characters often get treated in Western media and by Western fans, and it’s a useful framework to move into thinking about how we in this fandom engage with East Asian characters.

I’m not going to do a whole rundown on Orientalism and tropes because I’ve already discussed that extensively in other posts, and you can read Edward Said’s original text for yourself here.  The salient point I want to bring forth from those discussions is that Asian characters in Western media often get reduced to certain tropes (e.g. quiet and submissive, cartoonish sidekick, sexy fantasy), or more recently, are required to be “positive” representation for their communities (which translates to absolutely perfect and badass, a few surface flaws but nothing truly dislikable or bad).  

Nor is this limited to creators and production companies.  Even when there is a complex, nuanced, or antagonistic Asian character in media, fan engagement often ranges from ignoring them and relegating them to the background, to flattening them down into a few shallow characteristics and tropes.  If they were likeable originally, that’s all they’ll ever get to be (options range from “uwu cute” to “who needs a personality when you can be badass”).  If they were unlikable, then they either become reduced to a one-dimensional villain role or it’s “we’re going to invent a whole new character with the same name that’s likeable and/or “redeemable” according to our personal standards.”

The gist of this is that for those of us who live in a Western society or who are immersed in its cultural output, it’s common for Asian characters to be dismissed or reduced to tropes in Western media and fan spaces, and their bodies treated as a commodity, something to entertain us or for us to manipulate and puppet around as we please.  Just take a look at Kpop twitter if you want a particularly egregious real life example, but it happens to greater or lesser degrees in nearly any fandom with Asian characters in it.

(And yes, this is something common to many marginalized communities.  This particular post will specifically focus on the context of East Asian diaspora communities because Norman is Japanese-”Americadian” and Zac is Japanese-American and I personally come from an East Asian diaspora though I am not Japanese)

So what does this have to do with Norman?  Well, there’s no question that Norman is certainly not a nice or likeable man.  Which is why, from an in-game perspective, when the ‘nicer’ Valdrinor took over, everyone was happy about it!  Now we’ve got someone that people actually like and get along with...but through stripping away Norman’s agency and identity.  Of course no one likes being around assholes and Norman is definitely an abrasive and demeaning asshole, but that’s also the point.  He isn’t nice and he isn’t kind, but that’s who he, Norman Takamori, is.  

Norman Takamori is a messy, complicated, unlikable character who has had everything difficult or unpalatable about him taken away, along with his agency, and who has been replaced by a “nicer,” more more compliant character that puppets around his body, mimics his identity and literally does whatever he’s told by other people.  Starting to sound familiar?

Now, I am definitely not going to argue that this was a deliberate character choice.  But I do think that the parallel connections you can draw between Norman/“Skip” and the general treatment of Asian characters in Western media are a useful device for us to examine how we ourselves treat East Asian characters in this fandom.  Because it could be better.  It really could.

There are two sides to this conversation - how the show treats its East Asian characters, and how fandom treats East Asian characters.  To start with the show, there have been some ups and downs.  I’ve praised D20 in the past for NPCs such as Jackson Wei, Cindy Wong, and the Shen family, and for some absolutely stellar performances by Erika and Zac with characters like Danielle and Ricky.  There have also been a few missteps.  The whole “white saviour” story line in TUC II with the Order of the Concrete Fist springs to mind, as does the uncomfortable tendency for the official art to depict every single East Asian character with pale skin.

This season in particular has also had its ups and downs.  I personally like Ronnie Kwan and Auma Liu, I think they’re interesting characters and fairly nuanced for a supporting NPC.  I don’t love how the narrative and the mechanics enable the PCs to consistently disregard Norman’s agency.  It’s not that the PCs made the decision to ignore what was going on with the brain slug in the first place, because this is not the “lawful good” campaign.  But it’s things like constantly emphasizing how bad/incompetent Norman is, right before or after the PCs get a payout or in-game bonus.  It’s things like making the surgery not a risk to Skip, only Norman, and framing Skip as the most important person in the situation when the point of the surgery is to access Norman’s memories and it’s Norman’s body which is at risk.  It’s things like only presenting the negative parts of Norman’s backstory and highlighting the bad/pathetic elements of his character when even antagonists get moments of admiration or intrigue.

As for fandom, I and other fans have written a lot about how fandom treats D20’s East Asian characters, especially Ricky, so I won’t go back over that now.  There’s your usual problems -whitewashed art, ignoring or simplifying East Asian characters, objectification, etc- and things like double standards and viciously defending white faves against those “mean Asians”.  Cody and Ricky, and Evan and K spring most readily to mind.

Then there’s everything about Norman.  The problem with fandom and Norman Takamori is not the brain slug story line by itself.  I emphasize that Zac wanted to explore this story line, and that Asian people should be allowed to explore stories and characters without having to worry about whether they’re being “positive” representation.  I also point out that brain slugs are a science fiction trope for a reason, that the science fiction genre is partially designed to ask difficult ethical and philosophical questions that don’t have a “right” answer, because the point is not the answer, the point is how you got to your answer.

The problem, then, with fandom and Norman Takamori is that we hold him to a different standard than we do with other characters.  It’s the dichotomy of excitedly cheering on Sid’s journey of self discovery and self-determination, and then talking about how Norman “deserves” to have his bodily autonomy violated, or how it’s the “best thing” that could have happened to him because now people like “him,” because it’ll “teach him a lesson.”  We’re willing to hop onboard the potential of rescuing/redeeming Barry Nyne from a brain slug, an NPC who’s also behaved with hostility towards the PCs, but won’t even consider it for Norman because he’s “mean” and “deserves” what happened to him.  We watch in delighted awe as the party helps Gnosis and goes to extensive lengths to respect their choices and encourage their free will, all the while ignoring Norman’s right to autonomy.

Sure, but it’s just because Norman is a jerk, right?  We don’t like him because he’s an asshole, not because he’s Japanese.  And that’s very true.  Norman’s an unlikable asshole, and that has nothing to do with his race.  What does have to do with his race though is, again, the double standards.  We may not dislike Norman because he’s Japanese, but we do hold him to a different standard compared to white characters, and we are quick to dismiss him as an unpleasant, miserable man after a single episode that was mostly combat.

Consider: this season is arguably the least “heroic” out of all the D20 seasons.  Characters come from complex backgrounds, and make morally grey decisions.  We accept this, this is part of the story and the setting.  So why is it that when the other characters make dubious decisions (e.g. the non-consensual brain surgery), we excuse them by saying that it’s a rough story setting and these characters are proldiers who have already made many morally grey decisions, but when Norman, who lives in the same story setting and has also made morally dubious decisions in his past, behaves badly, we take that as “evidence” that he deserves to have bad things happen to him?

"But the other characters mostly did stuff to NPCs, and Norman was mean to the PCs, whom we actually care about!”  Yes, and Norman is also a PC.  Sure, he hasn’t been around much, and you can rightfully dislike how he interacted with other PCs, but he is also a PC, and the other PCs have consistently denigrated and dehumanized him throughout the season.  You can certainly say that this comes from understandable frustration with a horrible boss, but it doesn’t change the facts of their behaviour.  Why do we allow the party the benefit of context, that their boss treated them badly, but we do not allow Norman the benefit of context, that a lot of his bitterness and insecurity was exacerbated by his experiences within the Space Brigade?

I am not here to attack the cast or the PCs, or to justify/defend Norman’s behaviour.  Norman is absolutely an unpleasant jerk who chose to take out his personal issues on his crew, and that’s on him.  I would not like him if he was a real person, and I don’t condemn people for not liking him.  Nor am I saying that all the characters are bad and that we should be criticizing everything they do.  But the way we in the fandom talk about and treat Norman surfaces some unconscious racial biases in the fandom.  I am not saying that you are a bad racist person if you don’t like Norman.  Nor am I saying that this is conscious, deliberate, or malicious.  But there is a pattern in this fandom of holding East Asian characters to different standards than white characters, and it’s something we need to be more aware of and examine more critically. 

Also, you don’t have to like Norman and you don’t have to like that he’s a middle aged man whom we presume is straight, but you cannot ignore that he is a man of colour when you talk about him.  I’ve seen quite a few jokes and comments taking aim at Norman’s age, gender, and sexuality, and it’s true that certain aspects of his identity would give him certain privileges in our world.  But especially when you’re a person of colour, your race affects how all aspects of your identities are viewed and treated by others, even in areas where you might hold privileges.  A cishet man of colour does not have the same privileges and experiences as a cishet white man, is not viewed in the same way.  Certainly, Norman and the in-game setting of A Starstruck Odyssey are fictional.  But the world that we live in is not, nor is the way we engage with racialized characters.

Again, the issue is not with the brain slug story line itself.  Could we be having more conversations about its implications for autonomy and consent?  Yes, that’s the whole reason why it’s a trope in science fiction.  But the issue is not with the concept of brain slugs, the issue is in how the show is managing the execution of that story line and in how the fandom is engaging with it, particularly with the context of Norman being Asian and the fandom’s history with Asian characters. 

There’s room to improve for everyone.  This is not an attack, it’s a call to do better.

[bao3bei4]

fan language: the victorian imaginary and cnovel fandom

there’s this pinterest image i’ve seen circulating a lot in the past year i’ve been on fandom social media. it’s a drawn infographic of a, i guess, asian-looking woman holding a fan in different places relative to her face to show what the graphic helpfully calls “the language of the fan.”

people like sharing it. they like thinking about what nefarious ancient chinese hanky code shenanigans their favorite fan-toting character might get up to⁠—accidentally or on purpose. and what’s the problem with that?

the problem is that fan language isn’t chinese. it’s victorian. and even then, it’s not really quite victorian at all. 

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

fans served a primarily utilitarian purpose throughout chinese history. of course, most of the surviving fans we see⁠—and the types of fans we tend to care about⁠—are closer to art pieces. but realistically speaking, the majority of fans were made of cheaper material for more mundane purposes. in china, just like all around the world, people fanned themselves. it got hot!

so here’s a big tipoff. it would be very difficult to use a fan if you had an elaborate language centered around fanning yourself.

you might argue that fine, everyday working people didn’t have a fan language. but wealthy people might have had one. the problem we encounter here is that fans weren’t really gendered. (caveat here that certain types of fans were more popular with women. however, those tended to be the round silk fans, ones that bear no resemblance to the folding fans in the graphic). no disrespect to the gnc old man fuckers in the crowd, but this language isn’t quite masc enough for a tool that someone’s dad might regularly use.

folding fans, we know, reached europe in the 17th century and gained immense popularity in the 18th. it was there that fans began to take on a gendered quality. ariel beaujot describes in their 2012 victorian fashion accessories how middle class women, in the midst of a top shortage, found themselves clutching fans in hopes of securing a husband.

she quotes an article from the illustrated london news, suggesting “women ‘not only’ used fans to ‘move the air and cool themselves but also to express their sentiments.’” general wisdom was that the movement of the fan was sufficiently expressive that it augmented a woman’s displays of emotion. and of course, the more english audiences became aware that it might do so, the more they might use their fans purposefully in that way.

notice, however, that this is no more codified than body language in general is. it turns out that “the language of the fan” was actually created by fan manufacturers at the turn of the 20th century⁠—hundreds of years after their arrival⁠ in europe—to sell more fans. i’m not even kidding right now. the story goes that it was louis duvelleroy of the maison duvelleroy who decided to include pamphlets on the language with each fan sold.

interestingly enough, beaujot suggests that it didn’t really matter what each particular fan sign meant. gentlemen could tell when they were being flirted with. as it happens, meaningful eye contact and a light flutter near the face may be a lingua franca.

so it seems then, the language of the fan is merely part of this victorian imaginary we collectively have today, which in turn itself was itself captivated by china.

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

victorian references come up perhaps unexpectedly often in cnovel fandom, most often with regards to modesty.

it’s a bit of an awkward reference considering that chinese traditional fashion⁠—and the ambiguous time periods in which these novels are set⁠—far predate victorian england. it is even more awkward considering that victoria and her covered ankles did um. imperialize china.

but nonetheless, it is common. and to make a point about how ubiquitous it is, here is a link to the twitter search for “sqq victorian.” sqq is the fandom abbreviation for shen qingqiu, the main character of the scum villain’s self-saving system, by the way.

this is an awful lot of results for a search involving a chinese man who spends the entire novel in either real modern-day china or fantasy ancient china. that’s all i’m going to say on the matter, without referencing any specific tweet.

i think people are aware of the anachronism. and i think they don’t mind. even the most cursory research reveals that fan language is european and a revisionist fantasy. wikipedia can tell us this⁠—i checked!

but it doesn’t matter to me whether people are trying to make an internally consistent canon compliant claim, or whether they’re just free associating between fan facts they know. it is, instead, more interesting to me that people consistently refer to this particular bit of history. and that’s what i want to talk about today⁠—the relationship of fandom today to this two hundred odd year span of time in england (roughly stuart to victorian times) and england in that time period to its contemporaneous china.

things will slip a little here. victorian has expanded in timeframe, if only because random guys posting online do not care overly much for respect for the intricacies of british history. china has expanded in geographic location, if only because the english of the time themselves conflated china with all of asia.

in addition, note that i am critiquing a certain perspective on the topic. this is why i write about fan as white here⁠—not because all fans are white⁠—but because the tendencies i’m examining have a clear historical antecedent in whiteness that shapes how white fans encounter these novels.

i’m sure some fans of color participate in these practices. however i don’t really care about that. they are not its main perpetrators nor its main beneficiaries. so personally i am minding my own business on that front.

it’s instead important to me to illuminate the linkage between white as subject and chinese as object in history and in the present that i do argue that fannish products today are built upon.

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

it’s not radical, or even new at all, for white audiences to consume⁠—or create their own versions of⁠—chinese art en masse. in many ways the white creators who appear to owe their whole style and aesthetic to their asian peers in turn are just the new chinoiserie.

this is not to say that white people can’t create asian-inspired art. but rather, i am asking you to sit with the discomfort that you may not like the artistic company you keep in the broader view of history, and to consider together what is to be done about that.

now, when i say the new chinoiserie, i first want to establish what the original one is. chinoiserie was a european artistic movement that appeared coincident with the rise in popularity of folding fans that i described above. this is not by coincidence; the european demand for asian imports and the eventual production of lookalikes is the movement itself. so: when we talk about fans, when we talk about china (porcelain), when we talk about tea in england⁠—we are talking about the legacy of chinoiserie.

there are a couple things i want to note here. while english people as a whole had a very tenuous knowledge of what china might be, their appetites for chinoiserie were roughly coincident with national relations with china. as the relationship between england and china moved from trade to out-and-out wars, chinoiserie declined in popularity until china had been safely subjugated once more by the end of the 19th century.

the second thing i want to note on the subject that contrary to what one might think at first, the appeal of chinoiserie was not that it was foreign. eugenia zuroski’s 2013 taste for china examines 18th century english literature and its descriptions of the according material culture with the lens that chinese imports might be formative to english identity, rather than antithetical to it.

beyond that bare thesis, i think it’s also worthwhile to extend her insight that material objects become animated by the literary viewpoints on them. this is true, both in a limited general sense as well as in the sense that english thinkers of the time self-consciously articulated this viewpoint. consider the quote from the illustrated london news above⁠—your fan, that object, says something about you. and not only that, but the objects you surround yourself with ought to.

it’s a bit circular, the idea that written material says that you should allow written material to shape your understanding of physical objects. but it’s both 1) what happened, and 2) integral, i think, to integrating a fannish perspective into the topic.

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

japanning is the name for the popular imitative lacquering that english craftspeople developed in domestic response to the demand for lacquerware imports. in the eighteenth century, japanning became an artform especially suited for young women. manuals were published on the subject, urging young women to learn how to paint furniture and other surfaces, encouraging them to rework the designs provided in the text.

it was considered a beneficial activity for them; zuroski describes how it was “associated with commerce and connoisseurship, practical skill and aesthetic judgment.” a skillful japanner, rather than simply obscuring what lay underneath the lacquer, displayed their superior judgment in how they chose to arrange these new canonical figures and effects in a tasteful way to bring out the best qualities of them.

zuroski quotes the first english-language manual on the subject, written in 1688, which explains how japanning allows one to:

alter and correct, take out a piece from one, add a fragment to the next, and make an entire garment compleat in all its parts, though tis wrought out of never so many disagreeing patterns.

this language evokes a very different, very modern practice. it is this english reworking of an asian artform that i think the parallels are most obvious.

white people, through their artistic investment in chinese material objects and aesthetics, integrated them into their own subjectivity. these practices came to say something about the people who participated in them, in a way that had little to do with the country itself. their relationship changed from being a “consumer” of chinese objects to becoming the proprietor of these new aesthetic signifiers.

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

i want to talk about this through a few pairs of tensions on the subject that i think characterize common attitudes then and now.

first, consider the relationship between the self and the other: the chinese object as something that is very familiar to you, speaking to something about your own self vs. the chinese object as something that is fundamentally different from you and unknowable to you. 

consider: [insert character name] is just like me. he would no doubt like the same things i like, consume the same cultural products. we are the same in some meaningful way vs. the fast standard fic disclaimer that “i tried my best when writing this fic, but i’m a english-speaking westerner, and i’m just writing this for fun so...... [excuses and alterations the person has chosen to make in this light],” going hand-in-hand with a preoccupation with authenticity or even overreliance on the unpaid labor of chinese friends and acquaintances. 

consider: hugh honour when he quotes a man from the 1640s claiming “chinoiserie of this even more hybrid kind had become so far removed from genuine Chinese tradition that it was exported from India to China as a novelty to the Chinese themselves” 

these tensions coexist, and look how they have been resolved.

second, consider what we vest in objects themselves: beaujot explains how the fan became a sexualized, coquettish object in the hands of a british woman, but was used to great effect in gilbert and sullivan’s 1885 mikado to demonstrate the docility of asian women. 

consider: these characters became expressions of your sexual desires and fetishes, even as their 5’10 actors themselves are emasculated.

what is liberating for one necessitates the subjugation and fetishization of the other. 

third, consider reactions to the practice: enjoyment of chinese objects as a sign of your cosmopolitan palate vs “so what’s the hype about those ancient chinese gays” pop culture explainers that addressed the unconvinced mainstream.

consider: zuroski describes how both english consumers purchased china in droves, and contemporary publications reported on them. how: 

It was in the pages of these papers that the growing popularity of Chinese things in the early eighteenth century acquired the reputation of a “craze”; they portrayed china fanatics as flawed, fragile, and unreliable characters, and frequently cast chinoiserie itself in the same light.

referenda on fannish behavior serve as referenda on the objects of their devotion, and vice versa. as the difference between identity and fetish collapses, they come to be treated as one and the same by not just participants but their observers. 

at what point does mxtx fic cease to be chinese? 

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

finally, it seems readily apparent that attitudes towards chinese objects may in fact have something to do with attitudes about china as a country. i do not want to suggest that these literary concerns are primarily motivated and begot by forces entirely divorced from the real mechanics of power. 

here, i want to bring in edward said, and his 1993 culture and imperialism. there, he explains how power and legitimacy go hand in hand. one is direct, and one is purely cultural. he originally wrote this in response to the outsize impact that british novelists have had in the maintenance of empire and throughout decolonization. literature, he argues, gives rise to powerful narratives that constrain our ability to think outside of them.

there’s a little bit of an inversion at play here. these are chinese novels, actually. but they’re being transformed by white narratives and artists. and just as i think the form of the novel is important to said’s critique, i think there’s something to be said about the form that fic takes and how it legitimates itself.

bound up in fandom is the idea that you have a right to create and transform as you please. it is a nice idea, but it is one that is directed towards a certain kind of asymmetry. that is, one where the author has all the power. this is the narrative we hear a lot in the history of fandom⁠—litigious authors and plucky fans, fanspaces always under attack from corporate sanitization.

meanwhile, said builds upon raymond schwab’s narrative of cultural exchange between european writers and cultural products outside the imperial core. said explains that fundamental to these two great borrowings (from greek classics and, in the so-called “oriental renaissance” of the late 18th, early 19th centuries from “india, china, japan, persia, and islam”) is asymmetry. 

he had argued prior, in orientalism, that any “cultural exchange” between “partners conscious of inequality” always results in the suffering of the people. and here, he describes how “texts by dead people were read, appreciated, and appropriated” without the presence of any actual living people in that tradition. 

i will not understate that there is a certain economic dynamic complicating this particular fannish asymmetry. mxtx has profited materially from the success of her works, most fans will not. also secondly, mxtx is um. not dead. LMAO.

but first, the international dynamic of extraction that said described is still present. i do not want to get overly into white attitudes towards china in this post, because i am already thoroughly derailed, but i do believe that they structure how white cnovel fandom encounters this texts.

at any rate, any profit she receives is overwhelmingly due to her domestic popularity, not her international popularity. (i say this because many of her international fans have never given her a cent. in fact, most of them have no real way to.) and moreover, as we talk about the structure of english-language fandom, what does it mean to create chinese cultural products without chinese people? 

as white people take ownership over their versions of stories, do we lose something? what narratives about engagement with cnovels might exist outside of the form of classic fandom?

i think a lot of people get the relationship between ideas (the superstructure) and production (the base) confused. oftentimes they will lob in response to criticism, that look! this fic, this fandom, these people are so niche, and so underrepresented in mainstream culture, that their effects are marginal. i am not arguing that anyone’s cql fic causes imperialism. (unless you’re really annoying. then it’s anyone’s game) 

i’m instead arguing something a little bit different. i think, given similar inputs, you tend to get similar outputs. i think we live in the world that imperialism built, and we have clear historical predecessors in terms of white appetites for creating, consuming, and transforming chinese objects. 

we have already seen, in the case of the fan language meme that began this post, that sometimes we even prefer this white chinoiserie. after all, isn’t it beautiful, too? 

i want to bring discomfort to this topic. i want to reject the paradigm of white subject and chinese object; in fact, here in this essay, i have tried to reverse it.

if you are taken aback by the comparisons i make here, how can you make meaningful changes to your fannish practice to address it? 

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some concluding thoughts on the matter, because i don’t like being misunderstood! 

i am not claiming white fans cannot create fanworks of cnovels or be inspired by asian art or artists. this essay is meant to elaborate on the historical connection between victorian england and cnovel characters and fandom that others have already popularized.

i don’t think people who make victorian jokes are inherently bad or racist. i am encouraging people to think about why we might make them and/or share them

the connections here are meant to be more provocative than strictly literal. (e.g. i don’t literally think writing fanfic is a 1-1 descendant of japanning). these connections are instead meant to 1) make visible the baggage that fans of color often approach fandom with and 2) recontextualize and defamiliarize fannish practice for the purposes of honest critique

please don’t turn this post into being about other different kinds of discourse, or into something that only one “kind” of fan does. please take my words at face value and consider them in good faith. i would really appreciate that.

please feel free to ask me to clarify any statements or supply more in-depth sources :) 

[xoxo-teddybear]

I Didn’t Mean It - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, death

Summary: It was too early for this. All the yelling, the fighting, the screaming. You didn’t give in but for some reason Bakugou just couldn’t let it go. Words get said and hearts die.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“YOU FUCKING ATTENTION WHORE!”

-

Your boyfriend, whom you’ve been dating since your second year in junior high, was currently screaming your head off.

Last night, the two of you and your friends all went out but the night ended early for you and Katsuki when some rando got a little too handsy with you. Even though you pushed the guy away, Katsuki couldn’t help but feed into his jealous nature. You both argued all night but you left the argument early and went to bed, too exhausted with everything that just went down. Unfortunately, Katsuki was stubborn and the second you woke up to get ready for patrol, he brought the argument back to life.

-

“A-Attention whore? Katsuki, I pushed him away!” You said with a cracked voice as you gathered your things. Bakugou was standing near the kitchen island as he slammed his fist on the counter and continued to yell.

“Why do you think he went to you in the first place, Y/N?! You walk around, dressed like a fucking slut, even though you have a boyfriend!” He screamed.

His words were hitting hard and you teared up the slightest bit as he continued yelling. “Katsuki! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Would you quit fucking crying! Just fucking admit you were going to be a fucking hoe and cheat on me! Then you can get the fuck out of here!” He screamed in your face. You squinted your eyes as the tears pricked at the end of them.

“…is that what you want? You want me to leave?” You asked with a broken heart. You could see the hesitation on Bakugou’s face. He was fighting himself, trying to force himself to bite his tongue and take back every harsh thing he said but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t mean any of it. His heart cried for one thing while his wild mouth said another.

“…..yes.” He muttered. He watched as your face grew in heartbreak and he could practically hear your pulse booming. You bit in your lip to hold back your sobs before you blinked away your tears and nodded.

“I’ll get my stuff out after my patrol.” With that, you walked off to the door and left to work but not before you heard Bakugou mutter a soft ‘I hate you,’ knowing full well that you heard. Bakugou stood in the now quiet house, immediately regretting everything he said.

He knew you weren’t a cheater. He knew you wouldn’t do that to him. He doesn’t know why he said what he did but all he knows is that he’s going to make it up to you once you come back home. He’ll do whatever it takes. He loves you after all.

—

After hollowing in sadness and regret, Bakugou got up and began his plan to make it up to you. He left the house and went out to buy groceries, a new Teddy Bear for you, a necklace, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers and another bouquet of roses.

With the new groceries, he made your favorite meal and baked your favorite dessert. He wrapped the gifts and placed them on the beautifully set table that was littered in flower petals and candles. Bakugou was sure this would help aid in his apology.

Throughout the day, Bakugou sent you multiple texts trying to explain and apologize. He sent multiple messages and was starting to grow a little hurt at the fact that you weren’t replying to any of them. He tried calling but when you didn’t pick up, it worried him. He sent voicemails to no avail and continued waiting. It was only a morning patrol so you should be back soon. Right?

—

Wrong. Bakugou sat in front of the t.v screen with an open jaw and wide eyes as tears fell from his face.

Pro-hero, H/N, fallen in tragic battle against villain.

Bakugou could feel the world stop. He felt his heart beat all throughout his body as he shook. He couldn’t move. It was like he was frozen in place as he stared at the screen showing an image of you being impaled. He snapped out of his trance when his phone rang. Stupidly having hope that it was you, he immediately answered.

“Y-Y/N?!” Bakugou screamed into the phone with a broken voice.

“I’m sorry Bakugou.” He recognized the voice as his best friend, Kirishima. “I don’t think she’s gonna make it.”

Bakugou began to huff as he looked around the house. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t what he wanted! You were supposed to come home and make up! You were supposed to be here with him! You were supposed to be home!

“Where are you?! Where are you, where is she?!” He screamed into the phone. Kirishima gave him the information and Bakugou was out the door, blasting his way to your location.

He forced himself to go beyond his limits as he traveled the distance to where you were located. He arrived at the busy land where the battle took place. He ignored everything else and set his sights on where you could be, until he finally took notice of a crowd of people, surround your seemingly lifeless body.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!” The pro screamed at the crowd. Everybody took notice of the hero as he ran to your body with tears in his eyes. Tears he vowed to hide from the public. As Bakugou landed, Kirishima and a few other heroes at the scene pushed the crowd away and told them to leave the couple be. The paramedics tried to take your body from Bakugou in a foolish attempt, but Bakugou refused to let you go. The paramedics allowed him to hold you, for they knew it would be for the last time.

Bakugou knelt down at your side and pressed your body to his chest. He still held frantic eyes as he examined your condition and felt his heart sink when he came to the conclusion that you weren’t doing so good. “Hey..hey, hey, hey. Y/N? Y/N, please. Please baby, wake up!”

His heart and head were in battle as one knew you weren’t going to make it while the other held hope and prayed you would. Bakugou moved the stray pieces of hair that covered your beautiful face and caressed your cheek. “Y/N come on! You have to wake up! We have to go home now!”

As his tears finally fell and dropped onto your face, you began to move and awaken due to his sobs and pleas.

“……..Katsuki,” you ever so gently whispered out, barely audible. But Bakugou heard you. He heard you well.

“Y/N! Fuck- thank fucking god!” He exclaimed into your neck as he cried. He sobbed while you merely looked to the sky, waiting for the heavens to take you.

“…I’m gonna die.”

At your words, Bakugou picked his head up and looked at your dull and almost lifeless eyes. His heart began panicking again as he shook his head. “No…no, baby, don’t say that. You’re gonna make it. I swear!”

“……I didn’t get to move my stuff out. I- ngh- ….I’m sorry.” You said with a weak look as you stared at nothing. Bakugou felt his tears fall heavier as he was reminded of your fight. He told you to leave. He told you he hated you. And he hated himself for even doing it.

“Y/N, please don’t leave. Please. I don’t want you to go..I- I didn’t mean it! I want you to stay. Stay with me! Stay alive! Please don’t go.” He begged as he held on a little tighter. You felt yourself growing weaker by the second and your vision was beginning to dull and turn hazy.

“…it’s too late.”

“It’s not! Please, it can’t be! Y/N!” Bakugou looked around for help when he realized he was left alone with you. “Y/N, please! Just stay a little longer!”

“…I’m tired, Katsuki.”

“I-..I know baby. I know. But- you have to stay awake, okay!? Stay awake, stay alive!” Bakugou cried as he looked at your life force drain right in front of him. What was he going to do?

You began to curl in a little more as you felt your body relax in his hold. “Katsuki?”

“Yes baby?” He frantically asked.

“…. I love you..and I’m sorry.”

His body took a screenshot as he looked at you in shock. Sorry? For what? You did nothing wrong. Today was horrible and it was his fault and now..he was paying the ultimate price.

“Y/N, I love you too.” He cried. He didn’t know what to do. What to say, what to think. He didn’t know anything. All he knew was that he wanted you to live. As he cried with shut eyes, his world stopped spinning when he felt you become dead weight in his arms. He shot his eyes open as he looked at your now lifeless body. “Y/N?…..Y/N!”

You didn’t get to hear him say it back.

Bakugou shook you, but to no avail. You were gone. But he refused to believe it. “Y/N!….Y/N wake up! ….This isn’t fucking funny! Please!”

Bakugou continued to try and get you to open your eyes until paramedics came to take your body and heroes pulled him away from you. “No! NO! LET ME GO! LET ME HOLD HER! PLEASE!”

“Bakugou! Stop! She’s gone!” Kirishima screamed as he held Bakugou back. The blonde continued to fight and struggle against the heroes that held him as he continued to reach out for you.

“NO! SHE’S NOT GONE! SHE’S THERE! SHE’S RIGHT THERE! PLEASE! LET ME GO! GIVE HER BACK TO ME!” Bakugou watched as the paramedics laid you down on a stretcher and covered your body in a sheet. The sight made Bakugou nauseous as he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

“NO!” He cried as he used his explosions to push away the heroes and ran to your body. The sight of the angry and heartbroken hero scared the medics away as Bakugou ripped the sheet off and was finally able to have you in his arms again. Kirishima was the first and only one who tried to reach out to him.

“Bakugou-“

“STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM US!” He screamed as he held into your dead body.

“…Y/N..baby, please wake up. This wasn’t supposed to happen!” He cried as he pressed his forehead to your own and held onto the side of your face. “I’m so sorry we argued and had that fight…but- but I was going to make it up to you! I swear! You were supposed to come home..so I could give you flowers..and gifts..and- and I made your favorite meal! I set everything up back at home! You have to wake up so you can see! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP SO YOU KNOW THAT I DIDN’T MEAN ANY OF THE SHIT I SAID!”

You remained silent and breathless, and yet Bakugou still tried, hoping you could hear him.

“Wake up…so we can go home. So I can show you all I did for you. So I can shower you in a thousand apologies, so we can cuddle on the couch…please.” He cried. “Y/N…..”

All of a sudden, Bakugou was pulled back by a hero’s quirk and held there. He fought against restraints and screamed against everything and everyone. “NO! NO! GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!”

He continued to scream until he felt someone jab him with a sedative. He felt himself going weak and feeling drowsy. He was getting tired. His vision became fuzzy but he was still able to see them cover your body up once more as Kirishima tried to hide his view of you.

“No!” He screamed in a weaker, more tired tone. “No, please. Please..just-…just let me hold her. Please……Y/N….” And with that, he was knocked out.

—

When he came to, he awoke on his couch with Kirishima sitting at his feet with his elbows on his knees. When the red head noticed the blonde’s opening eyes, he was quick to grab him some water.

“Hey man, you’re finally-“

“WHERE IS SHE?!” Bakugou asked, slapping the glass of water out of his best friend’s hand. He grabbed onto the red’s shoulders and demanded answers. “WHERE’S Y/N!? TELL ME NOW!”

Kirishima looked at Bakugou with pitiful eyes. He slowly took hold of his friend’s hands and pulled them off of his shoulders. “Bakugou…I’m sorry.”

The blonde began to shake his head in denial as he began to cry again. “No..no! No, no, please! She can’t…”

“Bakugou…”

“She can’t be gone.”

The blonde began to sob uncontrollably as Kirishima consulted him the best he could. He was unfamiliar with the blonde’s despair, the hot head had never been this upset before. The two friends remained on the couch until Bakugou calmed down enough to a point where he could talk…barely.

“H-How long have I been out?” Bakugou asked.

“Just two days. Don’t worry..you didn’t miss her…” Kirishima looked at his friend’s broken face as Bakugou lifted his head to show his friend his depression. He knew what words were coming. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear them. “….you didn’t miss her funeral.”

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut as he allowed his head to fall as tears poured out of them. He silently suffered before asking another question. “When is it?”

“…in a week. Y/N didn’t have any family left-“ Kirishima felt his friend tense at his words. “…She didn’t have any blood related family left to give her one, so our friends and the agency put together a small one. Just her closest friends, the agency, and the heroes who fought with her in battle.”

“……I’m not going.” Bakugou stated.

“What?” Kirishima asked. “Bakugou, Y/N was your girlfriend. You guys were together even before U.A. and even after that! You both built a home together. How could you not go to her funeral?”

“I can’t face her! Not yet. I don’t deserve to get a good look at her face after what I did.” The pro sobbed. Kirishima looked at him in confusion, urging the blonde to continue. “I-….I said so many horrible things to her. I called her a fucking whore! I- I completely disrespected her and accused her of cheating when I know she didn’t! I told her to leave and to get the fuck out of my life! I told her I hated her!”

“Bakugou…”

“KIRISHIMA I TOLD HER TO LEAVE BUT I DIDN’T MEAN IT!” He screamed. Bakugou began to cry again as he finished pouring everything on the table. “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t want this! And- and now, I’ll never be able to get her back!”

Kirishima processed his friend’s words and began to understand exactly why he was so upset. He placed a hand in his friend’s back before softly speaking. “…Go to her funeral. Going could give you some closure and relief. Don’t say you don’t deserve to see her because you do. Y/N would want you to be there for her. …Honor H/N’s name.”

Bakugou said nothing as he kept his head in his hands. He didn’t sob uncontrollably anymore but Kirishima could hear his sniffles. The friend pulled him in for a small one sided hug and spoke.

“You’re my brother, Katsuki…I hate seeing you this upset.” With that, Kirishima got up and walked to the exit. Before he left, he looked to his friend with a sad look. “I hope you show up..for Y/N.”

—

The day of the funeral came, and Bakugou didn’t show. He couldn’t. Despite everything Kirishima said, he just couldn’t bring himself to face you. To see you dead. Pale faced in the casket. The thought alone made him sick to his stomach.

Time passed and months went by before Bakugou could even leave his house to go to your grave. The first time he went, he brought your favorite flowers in a mix of roses. He found your name engraved on the stone slab before placing the bouquet down and sitting. It was a beautiful day..and all he could think about was how you weren’t here to enjoy it with him.

“Y/N…I’m so so sorry. The day you left..you didn’t even get to hear me tell you that I love you too. I love you so much and now you’ll probably never know just how much I do. You’ll never get to wear the ring I got for you..you’ll never get to walk down the aisle..I’ll never get to be the one to receive you at the end of that aisle. We’ll never have that family you wouldn’t stop talking about. We’ll never get to grow old together..and be together forever like we planned.” He said with a sorrowful expression.

“I told you I hated you, I told you to leave but I didn’t mean it! Please….. come back! I love you and I want you here with me! I didn’t want you to go, I didn’t mean it, please!…

…I didn’t mean it.”

As he cried at your grave, a gust of wind blew against his hair in a soft breeze. Too lost in his tears, he couldn’t make out that it was your spirit attempting to comfort him.

A ghost of you rested on your grave as you looked down at your ex-boyfriend crying more than he ever has before. You got down on your knees to sit infront of him as he cried with his head down as you placed an empty hand on the side of his face, knowing he couldn’t feel your touch.

“I know you didn’t mean it, Katsuki…I know.”

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04

[tarosin]

The great adventures of y/n tubbo jack niki and george

requested:yes/no

pairing: platonic y/n,tubbo,jack,niki and george

summary: minecraft cave in real life

content warning: cursing

an: the word love is used a couple times but this is all platonic <3 i still don’t know how to add read more on mobile i am sorry about that, part 3 to great adventures series

it was around 4 am when the heat became a problem, unable to sleep you grabbed your phone and decided to facetime ranboo just as he was ending stream

“hey boo...you look like you’ve seen a ghost what the fuck were you doing”

“fnaf vr”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad you’re being dramatic”

“okay we shall see how you like it when I make you play it when I’m in the UK”

“okay bet I’ll add it to our list of videos and stream ideas anyway I can't sleep it’s too hot and I’m so confused as to why Tommy keeps asking me if I like and I quote being high”

“tubbo was telling me about that he keeps teasing him about planes you never know maybe you’re all going on an international adventure... or being pushed out a plane”

“doubt it there’s no way Tommy would pull something as crazy as jumping out a plane it would be pretty cool, I was thinking about doing it for my birthday”

“with a parachute? I hope”

“eh with or without, either way, is fine for me”

an hour passed you and ranboo sat talking about what was happening tomorrow and how you wished he was going to be there with you, after all, you knew how it felt to be watching people you care about making plans and doing things without you.

“didn’t you say you were going to a cave tomorrow? Minecraft in real life, nice”

“I’m begging please touch grass”

“I’ve already done that it made me want to become an engineer now get some rest y/n you’ll be getting up in a few hours, I’ll call you tomorrow goodnight”

“see you tomorrow I love you”

*y/n has ended the call*

•••

when you woke up at 9 you couldn’t shake off the awful feeling you had, today just didn’t feel like a good day you needed some time to yourself to recharge however you knew you’d be okay later on

Niki: good morning y/n!! would you like us to pick you up now or do you need a bit longer

y/n: don’t worry about it I’ll make my own way!! :]

Niki: okay see you soon!!

George: we will pick you up in an hour and a bit

Tommy: wait what are you guys doing

tubbo: following jack and Niki around

y/n: what he said

Tommy: have fun then guys without me

y/n: don’t you have work to do big guy

Tommy: don’t you have to get ready

y/n: leave me alone

•••

soon enough you saw jacks car pull up outside so you grabbed your bag from the other day as it still had everything you needed except this time you decided to bring along a mini first aid kit as you knew your clumsiness and a cave wouldn’t mix well. now you were fully awake you couldn’t wait to go explore the caves, you sat next to Niki who decided to play with your hair and spent half of the journey on a call with an unhappy Tommy who was in college waiting to go to lesson the other half of the journey was spent singing along to the radio

•••

jack started recording and turned around to see you Niki and tubbo leaning over looking down at the floor

“oh hi jack” you waved at the camera “so what’s the plan of action”

“we’re going up there”

you loved heights so hearing that you were going to go on a cable car made you pretty excited once you all got into the car you and George tried opening all the windows whilst tubbo complained

“stop trying to open things”

“it’s a window”

“scared you’re going to get pushed over the edge hmm? scared you’ll have to free fall? it’s not that high you'd probably survive the fall, it’s not like I'm trying to open the door on a plane”

“y/n I mean this in the nicest way possible I’m never going on a plane with you”

tubbo laughed and joined the conversation “we shall see about that”

you tilted your head to the side and blinked a few times trying to process what he just said

“heh?”

“tubbo if we fell we would die right”

“you know jack I've done a lot in my life”

you took the phone from jack and began filming him and George

“why is it slowing down”

“we’re going to die”

“I didn’t bring enough food”

you sat laughing at your friends' reaction before explaining that it’s slowing down for a reason

“they’re slowing it down so you can jump out, what I didn’t tell you is there’s actually a parachute underneath where you’re sat, good luck gamers”

“We could probably climb out the window”

“NO, where do we go”

you just sat shaking your head laughing whilst your friends sat screaming about it stopping

“y/n we’re going to die”

“oh no.. let me just text ranboo to start planning our funerals”

eventually, the cable car began moving just very slow you then ended the recording after jack made jokes about it moving as fast as a George video comes out, you all then spent the rest of the time enjoying everyone’s company.

•••

tubbo noticed a park and ran to the ropes giving you time to update your community a stream will be happening later on

y/n has tweeted: I am outside, stream with ranboo when we get home :]

you laughed as you posted that as all the comments started rolling in questioning if ranboo had come to the UK. you walked back to your group and wrapped your arms around jack and Niki making them both jump out of shock

“Sorry about that ahah now if you don’t mind I want to play in the park”

they laughed as you ran to the rope trying to swing without falling that’s when you gave up and started climbing the net close to Niki.

“that’s not a swing George”

jack ran towards them “I’m getting on the swing with George”

Niki laughed as she recorded what was happening in front of her, she looked to her left expecting to see you stood next to her however she heard you laugh and run towards your friends

“I’m getting on the swing with tubbo”

a few moments later George pointed out a castle and tubbo mentioned the ‘wet rocks’ you just stood with your arm around Niki's shoulders enjoying the view of the castle that was until a dog caught your attention and you walked off to go ask if you could pet it

“Niki where’s y/n they were with you last”

“with the dog”

“tubbo when they come back just follow the path towards the castle, me and Niki are going to record”

“got it, boss man”

•••

after a few minutes, you walked back to tubbo and George realising jack and Niki weren’t there you tilted your head shrugged then sat next to tubbo on the swings as George began recording

“jack and Niki have left us but we’re having fun on the swings..”

“maybe we’ll lick some rocks”

“YEAH”

•••

“if we’re quiet we can sneak up on them”

the three of you ran down the path towards the start of the castle steps looking at the cameras that allowed you to see the top of the castle

“there they are”

“they’re vlogging”

“We can just see them through the castle cameras they have no idea we can see them”

you stood leaning against George until you all noticed they were about to make their way back down the steps so all ran off to hide

“there they go”

the three of you ran back down the path ignoring the stares from strangers and comments about how your hair was obnoxiously bright, the three of you scared the pair who were looking for you all

“I’ve never been less displeased to see George”

the five of you continued walking around after joking about the green water and questioning George on how he could tell what colour it was

“I’m a genius”

a few fans can over and took photos with you all and George began questioning them

“George you’re really self-promoting right now”

“George I am disappointed in you”

•••

“dude it’s boiling”

“ice cream?”

the five of you stood inline

“I’m dying to tubbo”

“I’m not going to ask questions, I love how you just accepted defeat”

“you’re next y/n” tubbo let go of George and began walking towards you

“FUCK OFF NO” you ran behind George and used him as a shield

“y/n George isn’t going to protect you”

“I will y/n don't worry tubbo fuck off” the three of you stood laughing not realising jack was walking towards you all with the ice cream

“thank you”

“you’re welcome how’s the ice cream”

“great thank you”

you laughed at jack who somehow managed to get ice cream on his nose

•••

you and tubbo noticed a wishing well and walked over to it

“wanna make a wish”

“yeah but we have no money”

you both looked at each other then at jack them looked back at each other and nodded

“what are you two doing”

“We wanna make a wish”

“come on give me your money”

everyone stood laughing at you and tubbo determined to make a wish whilst jack argued he had no money however tubbo noticed a £20 note and grabbed it

“y/n quick make a wish”

the pair of you held the note and then dropped it into the well

“yay!!”

“We made a wish”

the pair of you walked off whilst jack stood telling you both how he can’t believe you and the pair of you had stolen over £100 from him today making you both laugh

“tell me the wish”

“We can’t or it won’t come true”

•••

“right cave time”

“we’re going to die”

“well thanks for that George”

you stood next to tubbo trying to ignore your friends as they made comments about there being mobs like creepers in the cave

“you two really need to go outside more”

everything was going well for you until the worker said to everyone

“I think we do have some kids here who are doing a vlog”

you could feel your cheeks heating up from embarrassment although you loved your job you still weren’t used to people pointing it out

•••

“This cave has a door”

“naturally formed door”

“y/n tubbo were in the caves, where are the diamonds”

you pointed in a random direction then continued walking whilst tubbo kneeled examining the rock claiming there were diamonds, as you all kept walking you had to put up with tubbo jack and George making Minecraft jokes whilst Niki followed behind them staying rather quiet, everyone’s as focusing on the cave not saying much till George spoke up

“it’s turned into a horror movie”

“why’s the cave so low why can’t they just dig up”

“y/n did you really just ask that”

“yes I did my neck hurts from ducking under the rock”

“so sorry to hear that”

“thank you for your concern George”

“I’m not concerned”

“oh-“

the tour continued and you were genuinely having a good time, you found all the different rocks and information given to you by the worker fascinating and slowly stopped listening to what your friends were saying behind you

“so this little tunnel up here is where they would send the kids”

“off you go tubbo and y/n”

“please no”

you all continued for a while till you were told you were going in the dark despite the fact you were excited you were also very afraid of the dark so stood closer to tubbo who instantly noticed and pulled you into a side hug

“we’re going dark”

“oh wow that is the only source of light”

a minute or so later they turned on some softly coloured led lights so you could all look at the geode

“holy shit that’s beautiful”

“I thought a geode was a small animal”

“that’s a pokemon dude”

you were all given time to go for a wander however rather than walking with the others you decided to stay with the geode and started a group call with ranboo and Tommy

“hi guys can’t stay long break is almost over”

“that’s okay Tommy but look at this giant fucking rock”

you flipped the camera so they could see and went around showing them parts of the cave

“holy shit”

“looks great y/n”

“cool right I have to go the worker wants us to get ready to leave see you all soon”

“wait y/n one last question, how are you with heights”

“oooh I’m great I love them we went in a cable car earlier”

“awesome see you all later”

*Tommy left the call*

“I’ll call you when I get home boo I’ll see you soon!!”

“bye y/n stay safe”

*ranboo has left the call*

*y/n has left the call*

as you all left the cave you and tubbo noticed two rocks and went to pick them up

“hey look our wish came true”

“yeah we wished for a weird looking rock when we left the cave”

“you paid £20 for a rock”

“yes”

a few minutes later you and tubbo just started walking away only to be later followed by everyone else

“where are you going”

•••

you all got the cable car back at this point you were exhausted you used all your energy running around the cave determined to show Tommy and ranboo everything

“What did you all think of the cave”

“loved it”

“you lost your rock tubbo?”

tubbo pulled out the rock and smiled at jack

“no, I didn’t”

“but you chucked it”

“told you we wished for a magic rock”

jack finished the recording and you all just sat talking about your day and any future plans

•••

the journey back home was extremely quiet you and tubbo sat next to each other, you fell asleep with your head resting on his shoulder, Niki sat in the front with jack quietly singing along to the radio and George and tubbo quietly spoke to each other trying not to wake you up.

when you finally got home you woke up on your couch confused as to how you got there it was only when you checked your phone you got the answer

Niki: you looked exhausted we didn’t want to wake you, hope you don’t mind. your keys are on the table next to your bag!! see you soon it was lovely meeting you <3

you decided to reply thanking your friends for today.

•••

*incoming call: ranboo*

you accepted the call

“hey y/n tell me all about your day whilst you get ready to stream I'm already set up”

“oh they’re gonna be so annoyed I've joined in with making jokes about you being in the UK anyway so my day was pretty good but I did end up asleep on my couch and had no idea how I got there”

“heh?”

“let me explain”

[hereforhalstead]

Tell me that when you’re sober

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader 18+

• Requested: Yes:

“I fucking love you”

“Hang up and tell me when you’re sober”

• Warnings: Swearing - PURE FLUFF

• Summary: Jay isn’t happy with you bringing work home but leads to a confession he’s wanted to tell you for a long time.

• Words: 4215

• A/N :I slightly adapted this to fit it better and intended for this to be a short fluff but 4000 words later.. here we are😅Thanks so much for your request and hope you enjoy!

**

You groan and throw your pen down onto the table, this case was really getting the best of you and frustrating you to no end. You look up at the time to see ‘10.30’ flashing in the green light back at you. You run your fingers through your hair which was now borderline greasy with how much you had been absentmindedly running your hands through it as you’re deep in thought. Eyes burning from how much you had been straining them and a slight blister on your finger with how hard you’d been holding the pen as you cross examine the notes intently.

You didn’t realise how quiet the apartment was, the faintest noise from your neighbours TV and the cars rushing past on the street below was all you could make out. This wasn’t like you, you basked in the liveliness and thrived in busy environments, the ones where you barely have time to think so therefore don’t spend much time on the outcome. You picked the pen back up to click it on the papers that were spread out in a manic like fashion in front of you, it made sense to you but if someone else was to see they’d think you’d just picked up the lot and thrown them down in a huff.

You scan over the CCTV stills and traffic cam screenshots, as if you hadn’t been staring at them for god knows how many hours and by a much needed miracle something was going to jump out at you and you’d have your lightbulb moment. Instead, you’re greeted with the same dead end paths and pointless thoughts you’d been fighting relentlessly.

You hear the keys turn in the lock and normally you’d be out of your seat and over to him in a heartbeat, your feet hitting the floor as if you were a kid at Christmas on your way to see what Santa left under the tree but today wasn’t that kind of day. You tried to tell yourself it was just because you were tired and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to admit you’d had another night of little success after being warned about bringing the work home by Jay several times. He always loved to prove a point and you weren’t about to let him get another one over on you, you couldn’t handle those eyes boring down on you as he stands behind you to examine you work, even if it meant lying to him.

You jolt in your seat as you feel him rest his hands on your shoulders before dropping a kiss to the top of your head “why are you still working? How many times have I told you..” he trails off but you’re quick to cut him off with your best ‘I’m fine’ smile “Jay, I’m finally getting somewhere” you falsely admit and feel the pit of guilt instantly form in your stomach as his eyes light up, he probes his thumbs into your skin in a light massage “proud of you” he softly confesses as he continues kneeding your skin.

If you weren’t so determined to get this case tied up this easily would’ve lead somewhere else but you had your focused mind at work and nothing was going to change that. He remains standing over you as you scribble pointless notes onto your notepad, highlighting the odd name and photo as you go as if to convey you had some trail of thought but really you were just buying yourself time until he left your side.

A few minutes go by but to you it feels like hours, you hate what you’ve become in that you find yourself dreading seeing Jay when you bring your work home. Knowing he was right in what he says and that he only says it because he cares but you always wanted to prove yourself and especially to him. He managed to get you into Voight’s good books after pissing him off one too many times, you had a back bone and even though most of the time this was an admiral quality it sometimes backfired.

You and Voight disagreed regularly but you had now learnt how and when to bite your tongue for the best result in cases but there were times you just couldn’t. After coming to blows and being sent to ‘get some air and cool off’ Jay was quick to plead with Voight for your job back and luckily it worked and you were back in the department the next morning. This lead to you now feeling this internal debt had to be paid to your boyfriend to prove you deserved your place and it was worth him sticking his neck on the line.

The pair of you became increasingly serious, starting as partners with the occasional flirty comment or glance soon lead to the regular sting of jealousy or worry which was now the feeling of emptiness when you weren’t together. Some may say you moved on fast, having only been together just under a year and already basically living together. However, due to the uncertainty of your job you decided to not hesitate and wait for when everyone else said it was right and do what felt right for the pair of you. Even if this did mean earning raised brows from Jay when he comes home from a late night to see you hunched over a stack of paperwork that you’d bought home, god knows how many times you’d seen him do it but for some reason it was a different ball game when it came to you.

It pulled at your heart how caring he was, always keeping an eye out for you and sometimes even more for you than himself. As much as there’s endless amounts of perks for dating your partner it sure did come with its consequences and you learnt them faster than you were expecting. Jay throwing himself into danger because it meant protecting you, you leading on suspects on undercover missions to try and get them to confess to which Jay hated and heated debates on the best way to handle a case were just a handful to name a few.

But, despite all of those you truly wouldn’t have it any other way, as you see it as spending as much time with him as possible and being grateful to have him beside you and always in your corner no matter how he feels, he will always back and argue for you.

After Jay strolls into the bedroom to change into some comfier clothes you start to fold some of the papers to create a bit more space, the thought of waking up to this mess wasn’t the ideal situation as you’d find yourself working on them at the crack of dawn and hardly in the right frame of mind to work. That was Jay’s one rule that he never budged on ‘put it all away before you go to bed’, he had hammered this into your head hundreds of times that it became natural for you at this point.

Neatly shuffling the papers to stack them in a pile on the side, helped you to resist the temptation to take a peak at the late or early hours when you should be asleep. He caught you one time glancing at an open file at the dead of night and he was not happy to say the least so knew he had to put his foot down. He knew you were like him and would work until a case was done but unlike him, you rarely knew when to stop.

He would know when his vision starts to loose focus from staring at a screen for too long or he gets a headache from the scrunch between his brows as he examines some notes that it was time to call it a day whereas you, would pop a few painkillers and carry on.

You hear Jay’s phone ring from the other room, not really taking much notice as you continue to fold the papers and shuffle them in a pile but can’t ignore when he comes bounding out of the room over to you “Baby, Adam and Kim are down at Molly’s. You wanna go?” He asks and normally you struggle to turn down such an invite but tonight you just weren’t feeling it and it’s as if you not replying instantly already told Jay you didn’t want to go as his face falls “let me call you back” he mumbles into the phone before shoving it into his back pocket.

He continues in his strides over to you and crouches down in front of you, taking your hand in his as he places a light kiss to your palm “please don’t tell me you’re going to sit here and work and make me go to Molly’s alone?” He pleads, eyes in puppy dog form as by now he knows the best way to get to you.

You run your hand over his disheveled hair as he leans into your touch “I think I’m just gonna have a shower and head to bed” you lie through your teeth, knowing full well the second he steps out the door you’ll be back knee deep in your files with the added extra of knowing you won’t be interrupted by your concerned boyfriend.

He scans your face with a concerned look on his own, lightly running his thumb over your knuckles as he sighs “you promise me you’re not going to carry on working and that you’ll give yourself an early night?” He rightfully asks, you nod in response thinking to yourself that you can’t verbally promise as you were one to never break promises and especially when it came to Jay.

He reaches up to plant his lips on yours, lingering them for a few seconds before standing tall in front of you “give me a call if you want me come home”. He reaches to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and you instantly regret not allowing yourself for be bundled into his arms as you crawl into his lap for the night but you knew you weren’t nearly as done with the case as you’d like and the only way you could continue was if he wasn’t there.

He heads into the kitchen to grab the coat he left on the counter but is back at your side within seconds, placing a glass of water on the table in alongside another kiss being left on the top of your head “make sure you drink that please baby” his voice slightly elevates in concern and you can’t contain the smile that spreads on your face at his worry for you.

“have a good time” you call out to him as he heads for the door “text me when you’re in bed and I want proof!” He yells over his shoulder and without looking you can see the smirk engraved onto his face “get out Halstead” you tease, earning a wink from your boyfriend as he exits the apartment to leave you again in total silence.

You pick up the glass of water he left and take a sip, struggling to think of the last time you hydrated yourself and thankful he knows when to think of these things for you. You lean back in your chair and cross your legs beneath you, slight hunch in your back from the pain of being in the chair for so long and now wishing you were still receiving the massage from Jay that you desperately craved. You shake your head to clear the the thoughts and pour yourself back into the notes. Re reading the interview script over and over again, eventually reaching for your phone to find the recording you’d sent yourself before you left the district to be able to listen back at home.

You chew the inside of your cheek at the sight of your lock screen, a photo you’d taken of Jay on vacation just after the pair of you became an item. His back was towards you and he didn’t even realise you snapped the photo of him looking out from the balcony window at the gorgeous beach front below, reminding yourself that everything you do is for him. As cringy as it sounds, you longed for his approval and praise as he was always so vocal about it, wrapping you in his arms after you finish a case report, sitting you between his legs as you work late on a report with the occasional kiss to your shoulder to remind you her was there or the way he just knows how’s to give you that look that says ‘you’ve got this’ was what kept you going.

You click play on the recording and sink back into your chair as it plays, leaning your notepad on your legs as you listen along. Laughing to yourself when Jay looses his temper or Voight makes a snarky comment to which they both laugh to made the listening all that much easier as it seemed to drag on for hours.

You checked the length of the audio on your phone and the combined clips had only been playing for just over an hour. With the faffing around when Jay came home and the breaks you took to replay certain parts, the time had soon passed. The clock now beaming down on you with the time flashing ‘12.45am’ made you toss your head back in frustration. You’d been round and round in circles, still getting no where and conscious of the fact Jay would be home soon.

You certainly didn’t want him to find you like this as you’d never hear the end of it, you have a stern word with yourself and play back Jay’s warning of packing everything away as you finally close the files you’d been staring at for far too long. You push them to one side and prop your head on your elbows on the the table, you finish the glass of water that had been sat at your side that was truly collecting dust at this point due to you forgetting about it. You glance down at your phone to see a text from Jay flash up on the screen

‘You in bed yet baby? Not seen any proof..’

You roll your eyes as you just know he’s been impatiently sat there waiting to hear from you ever since he left just a few hours earlier. You stare at the screen to debate whether it’s best to ignore it and pretend you’re already asleep or to lie to him again for the second time that night. You’re soon interrupted as his name lights up the screen, his toothy grin staring back at you from the contact photo he had set for himself after a night out reminding you how ‘you always make me smile so you deserve to see it when I call you’.

You hesitate to pick up but know he won’t stop until you answer, after having a few drinks the last thing you want is for him to bound home to you in a mood about how you didn’t answer his call. You sigh and slide the button to answer the call and can barely contain your laughter as you hear his drunken slurs on the other end of the line

‘You haven’t answered me you know?’ he moans, annoyance in his tone but also sounding like a child who hasn’t got their own way at the same time. You laugh to yourself but careful to not let him hear as this wouldn’t go down well “ was asleep” you hang your head in shame as you yet again lie.

‘Why are you lying to me? You were working weren’t you?’ He accuses and you’re stumped on how to reply, even without being with you he knows you better than anyone to which you always seem to forget. He huffs on the other end of the line after he doesn’t get a response, knowing he has you cornered. ‘Y/N please, just get to bed and I’ll be home shortly’.

“I’m just packing it away Jay, I only had a few more bits I wanted to do. I promise” you nibble on your fingertips in slight nervousness as he continues to groan down the phone.

‘What, like how you promised me you were gonna give yourself an early night you mean?’ He questions but you’re quick to reply “well actually, I never promised I just nodded” you chuckle to yourself, feeling clever with your response but Jay isn’t happy.

“Y/N I’m just looking out for you, I care about you too much to see you draining yourself over these things” he begins and before you can get a breath in he carries on his drunken rambles “I love you too fucking much to watch you not look after yourself, as much as I love to be the one who takes care of you I can’t be there all the time so I need to know you can put yourself first baby” you’re silent after his admission, unsure if he’s even aware of what he’s just spilled out

“Do you know what you just said?” You tease, trying to lighten the subject but the sigh on the other end tells you he was still in a mood.

“Yes Y/N, I said I love you too fucking much to watch you destroy yourself” he expresses in outrage but you were in too much of a shock to think of a clever reply “hang up and tell me that when you’re sober Jay”.

“I’ll be home soon” he cuts the conversation short before ending the call, you take a moment before placing your phone back on the table and you try to comprehend what just happened. He said I love you.

Fair enough it wasn’t in the way you had envisioned, him confessing his love for you as you lay wrapped within his arms or him accidentally spilling his admiration during a teasing session you often had but he still said it. Whether he meant or it was just a drunk slip up was another question. You couldn’t let yourself say it back in case he woke up tomorrow and didn’t remember, it would pain you to let the last piece of your guard down for him to take it all back the next morning and the whole thing becomes a distant memory.

You finish tidying away the papers, patting yourself on the back for the great job you’d done of making it look like you hadn’t spent hours on end sat at that table, it now gleaming the exact way it did this morning. You place the glass back onto the kitchen counter and trudge into the bedroom, thudding down onto the bed as you lay staring at the ceiling. Wrapping yourself in the comforter and attempting to close your eyes but nothing was enough to push down that anxious feeling in your stomach. This isn’t how you should be feeling after your boyfriend says I love you for the first time and even though you’d both wanted to say it for a while it still didn’t seem real. You didn’t deserve him, all the things he does for you and the way he takes care of you didn’t seem feasible in your mind that it would happen to someone like you.

Moments pass and you hear the front door shut, his attempts to be quiet made you laugh into the pillow as you hear him lightly walk across the hardwood floor. Bumping into the doorframe as he enters, grateful the comforter covering your face to avoid him seeing your amusement of his drunken self trying to be quiet and navigate his way to the bed. You stay laying on your side, hand tucked under the pillow beneath your head and the other resting on your stomach. You hear his belt unbuckle and watch hit the beside table as he gets himself undressed, tempted to turn over and help him but knowing he would still moan at you for being awake no matter what state he was in.

You force your eyes closed, keeping your head slightly buried into the pillow as you feel the bed dip beside you. Within seconds you feel the all too familiar comfort of his arm latching around you, pulling you into him in one swift motion as he tucks his head into the nape of your neck. Your heart flutters as you feel him place a kiss to your back before further pulling you into him, any chance of a gap between the pair of you was well and truly diminished.

You stay facing away from him, now far too comfortable to move and knowing he will be asleep within seconds, as long as he was by your side and you were wrapped tightly within the safety of his grasp he would sleep anywhere. You soon feel the light puffs of air to your skin as he falls into a sleep, the occasional nudge into your back as he gets himself comfortable but after a while he lays still to signal he was finally asleep.

You lay there trying to ignore your thoughts, cursing yourself for being such an over thinker as the one who had sent you into this spiral now laid passed out beside you, unbeknownst to the panic he set off inside you as he falls deeper into his slumber. You run your hand up and down his arm to sooth yourself to sleep, thinking to yourself of how you’re going to forget what happened and tomorrow will be a new day.

***

You awake to the sunlight peering through the window, annoyed at yourself for not closing the blinds before you went to bed as the rays shine in your eyes. You turn in Jay’s grasp and jolt in his arms as you’re met with him softly smiling back at you “morning” he groans, his normal groggy morning voice now made more intense with the slight hangover he would soon be facing. You drop your head to lay on his chest, pressing your lips to his skin as he runs his fingertips up and down your spine and resting his head on top of yours as you lay in a comfortable silence. “Good night?” You break the air, knowing he certainly wasn’t in the mood to be talkative but if you didn’t have some form of interaction from him you’d go insane.

“Wasn’t the same without my girl” he tightens his grip on your waist, a soft pinch of your skin as he teases “but she was at home working when she promised me she wouldn’t, clearly choosing work over her boyfriend” he huffs into the top of your head as you bury yourself further into his chest.

“don’t go there” you warn as he chuckles in response “choosing to look at old case notes than spending time with your boyfriend, that’s a tough one” he continues to ramble, you detach yourself from him and turn to face him with stern look “I said don’t go there”you warn but he pouts his bottom lip at you as he raises his brow. You narrow your eyes at him and he cracks his serious exterior, bringing his hand to the back of your head as he brings it to him to connect his lips to your temple “It’s a good job I love you” he mumbles into your skin, pressing his lips onto yours for a brief second before allowing himself to pull back and admire your expression of shock.

“You remembered?” You question, still nervous he wouldn’t have a clue what you were talking about. “Of course I remember, you think I’d forget when I first tell my girlfriend I love her?” He tilts his head as he asks, you lean your head down onto him as he clears his throat “would help me if you said it back though, bit embarrassing if I’m the only one to say it” he jokes, grin encompassing his morning glow as he gloats “I love you too idiot” you roll your eyes at him, bringing your lips onto his for a chaste kiss. He brings his hand up your back and tousles it into your hair, keeping you in place as your lips intertwine before pulling back and running his eyes over the happiness beaming from your face “you have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that”.

**

inbox and requests open🥰

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 23 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

hello my loves! Some of you may have already seen this, but I have news! This fic is officially complete. There are thirty chapters, so you still have seven left after today’s update. I’ll be keeping the usual Tuesday/Saturday posting schedule, so you have a month left of updates.

Now that I am done drafting this fic, my requests will be open while I begin to bank up new chapters of the Hotch x Reader Scandal!AU that I plan to write next. Please send in requests here. I would also LOVE if you could fill out this survey about the Scandal!AU so I can get a sense of what you all would like. I will make sure to write it in a way that makes sense, even if you haven’t seen Scandal! 

As always, thanks so much for reading, y’all are just the best. 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: canon-typical descriptions of violence, cursing, hospital mention

wordcount: 2.3k 

A little while later, Hotch sends JJ and Emily to the school to interview the classmates of the students who had been murdered, and you and Morgan head off to the medical examiner’s office. 

“Find anything interesting in the calls from the tip line?” Morgan asks you as he pulls out of the parking lot, and you shrug. 

“I need to go back through my notes. There were a couple kids' names that came up, but I want to go back and cross check for the names that came up more than once-- i figure if the name only comes up once, it’s kids pranking each other and I don’t want to waste our time on dead ends. Garcia’s looking into a teacher for me, though.” 

“We just need a couple more puzzle pieces, and then it’ll all come together,” Derek says, more to himself than to you, and you murmur out your agreement as he pulls into the examiner’s office.

“Cause of death for Mrs. Mack and Mrs. Sutton was a gunshot wound to the neck. The daughters, to the abdomen,” the doctor says, passing over her report. “The men were all strangled. The boys by hand, the men with a garrote.”

“Any idea what order they were killed in?” You asked. 

“My guess is the women first, one right after the other. Then the sons, and the husbands.” 

“How did he stop the husbands from taking him down while he killed the sons?” Morgan asks skeptically. 

The medical examiner points out a bruise on Mr. Sutton’s skull. “Looks like he was knocked unconscious, maybe by the butt of the gun or something in the home.” She explains.

“Thank you,” you said to the medical examiner, who smiled and left you both to your work.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Morgan asks you.

“White man in his twenties or thirties, snubbed by a woman he desired for another man, taking out the families he’s convinced he’ll never have?” 

“Call Hotch,” he said, taking off at a brisk pace back towards the car and trusting you to follow. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and discovered that Garcia was already calling you. 

“Hi Garcia, can you patch Hotch in?” You asked. 

“Already here bug, and trust me, you’re gonna want to hear this.” She told you, and you put the phone on speaker so Morgan could listen in while he drove. 

“What did you find, Garcia?” Hotch asked. 

“So, I looked into Marc Vexper, and it turns out this long-term English sub has something to hide-- he didn’t make a single card purchase on either day that he was out, and his phone was completely off from the moment he stepped off the school’s campus to the time he returned.” 

“Morgan and I are just leaving the medical examiner’s office now-- Marc fits the profile to a tee.” You interject. 

“Oh but wait, the high school of horrors doesn’t end there,” Garcia warns you. “I took a peek at Marc’s texts looking for clues about his whereabouts, and I noticed some too-friendly chats with Victoria Sullivan, a student in his AP Literature class. Her phone was on both days, and I’ll give you one guess as to where she was both days-- and it wasn’t school.” 

“You’re kidding,” Morgan sighs out. 

“So did he groom Victoria into doing it herself, or was she an accomplice?” Hotch asked. 

“The men were strangled, Aaron. There’s no way she could have done that herself.” You tell him. 

“We need an address, Penelope.” Hotch demands. 

“Already on your phone. The station’s closest.” She tells you. 

“We’ll meet you there.” Hotch says, and the line clicks. 

In a routine you’ve performed too many times to count, Morgan flicks on the lights and sirens as you mount your phone with the GPS sending you in the right direction. It’s all the same as it usually is, so why are you so nervous? 

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

Hotch elects not to put on his lights and sirens as he approaches Mr. Vexper’s house, not wanting to alert him that anyone had found him out. There are two cars in the driveway-- a modest sedan with a few dings in it, and a shitbox of an old jeep with a parking permit for the local high school on the back bumper. 

“The girl is here-- she might be a hostage.” Hotch tells Spencer, who nods. “We need to be careful. There’s no need for any other kids to lose their lives,” he says, quietly opening up his car door and gesturing for Spencer to take a back entrance while he takes the front. He climbs the worn wooden steps and peeks into the window, seeing nothing before he takes one hand off of his gun to swing open the front door of the home, where he’s met face to face with the Victoria Sullivan, standing on the main stairway of the home, gun leveled square at the middle of his forehead. 

“Victoria, put the gun down,” Hotch says slowly, raising his own hands as a sign of good faith. “I’m here to help you. Where’s Marc?”

Before Victoria can answer, Hotch hears the woosh of metal in the air and feels an overwhelming crack in his legs, falling to the ground as he yelps in pain. 

“Run, Vicky! You know where to go!” Marc yells, and the girl disappears from Hotch’s blurring line of vision as March continues to beat on Hotch with a crowbar, stomping on his legs. 

Hotch vaguely hears Spencer's running footsteps, and Marc takes off, running in the same direction as Victoria. 

Spencer falls to the ground next to Hotch, attempting to gently tend to his injuries, but Hotch weakly waves him off. 

“Go, go, save the girl, he’ll kill her next. I’m okay. Go,” he coughs out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Spencer goes. 

Hotch groans as he gropes around in his pants pocket, pulling out his cell phone and calling Garcia. 

“I need help,” he says once the line clicks.

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

If Aaron lived through this, you were going to kill him yourself. You knew you were being irrational, you knew it wasn’t his fault, and worst of all you know that he hadn’t even done something you could be mad at him for, like going in without backup. This was just the job. This just happened sometimes. And you were absolutely fucking livid that it was happening to him. Not to mention scared shitless. 

Morgan had pumped the gas as soon as Garcia called, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Your leg bounced anxiously in the passenger seat. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Morgan attempted to placate you, but you wouldn’t have it. 

“You don’t know that,” you spat out. 

“He’s tough. He’s got a lot to stick around for. He’s gonna be okay,” He tells you, and this time you don’t argue.

When you finally pull up to the house, Aaron is on a stretcher being loaded onto an ambulance. You throw yourself out of the SUV before it’s even fully stopped, calling out for Aaron. 

“I’m okay,” he sputters out as you climb into the back of the ambulance. 

“No you aren’t, you asshole,” you scoffed at him, your voice a little watery. “Tell the paramedics what happened so they can help you,” you said, stroking at the hair at the top of his head as your chin quivered. 

“Don’t cry,” he says, reaching up for you and you see that his hands are bloody. 

“Shh, shhh. Don’t worry about me. Let them help you,” you calmed him down, trying not to let your tears interrupt the medics when his eyes roll into the back of his head and he loses consciousness.

 Aaron will live, and you suppose you won’t follow through on your threats to kill him. Once he’s in the hospital, they wheel him back to a restricted area, leaving you alone in a waiting room while the rest of the team finds the unsub. You call Jess, let her know what’s going on, but ask that she keep it from Jack until you’re back in the room with him and Hotch is able to talk to Jack himself. You didn’t want Jack to worry, and you knew that Aaron’s assurance that he was fine was the only comfort Jack would accept.

After a while-- it could have been thirty minutes or three hours, Emily appears in the waiting room..

“I was appointed to come check on you,” she says by way of greeting. “Have you seen him yet?”

“Not since they took him out of the ambulance. He looked… bad,” you struggle to find a word that explains the magnitude of it. 

“He’s gonna be fine. No gunshot wounds, just some nasty bruises. I’m sure it looked worse than it actually was.” She consoles you gently.

“I hope you’re right.”

At that moment, a doctor appears in the doorway. “For Agent Hotchner?” He asks, and you walk over to him. 

“I’m Aaron’s partner,” you explain, the word “girlfriend” feeling entirely too childish for the scenario. 

“Agent Hotchner is going to be just fine. His left leg is fractured slightly at the femur and the kneecap, but we’ve put him in a brace to stabilize the knee, and he should recover over the next eight to twelve weeks. He’ll need some physical therapy, and field work is out of the question until he is cleared, but he’ll make a full recovery.  He has a mild concussion and a few bruised ribs, but we’ve given him some meds for the pain and the concussion shouldn’t present any further complications.” 

No field work. Aaron was going to be pissed. “Thank you, doctor.” You said gratefully. 

“He’s been asking for you, if you’d like to follow me,” The doctor responds, and you allow him to lead you down a maze of hallways, leaving you just outside Aaron’s room, where his eyes are shut and his chest rises and falls slowly. Figures, you were sure he’d been up all night running through profiles in his head.

You sat on his right side, away from his injured leg, and rested your head against his mattress, near his hip bone. He looked so fragile like this, wrapped up in a thin blanket and a johnny, bandaged from his collar bone to his toes. You wondered, briefly, if he felt this helpless and frustrated the night that he picked you up from your old apartment. The tears well up against your will, but you allow them to fall, for a few moments. You had earned the right to care for him, to worry about him, to fret. You had earned the right to sit vigil at his hospital bed and try to force images of a lifetime lived without him to stop passing through your head. 

Aaron stirred, and you sucked in a quick breath, not wanting to wake him. He settled, again, and you rested your head back against the mattress, letting the gentle rhythm of his breath lull you to sleep. 

He twitches a little while later, and the sudden movement jolts you awake. His return to the waking world is slower, and you let him come at it at his own pace, not wanting to overwhelm him when he was probably already going to be in pain and disoriented. You hear him mumble out your name and you stand, placing one hand on his cheek and the other in his uninjured palm. 

“I’m right here, baby,” you whispered to him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, trying to look you up and down without moving his neck. 

“Am I--” you chided gently. “Honey, I’m fine. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” 

“My leg,” he tells you, trying to sit up, but you push back on his shoulders. 

“Absolutely not,” you tell him. “You broke your leg. You are staying in this bed until a doctor tells you otherwise.” 

“Fuck,” Aaron muttered out. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “Is Spencer okay? And the girl, Victoria Sullivan?” 

“The team took them both alive. Spencer is fine, just a little breathless from his run.” You tell him. 

“When is it gonna heal?” He switches topics back to his injury. 

“You mean, when are you going to be allowed into the field again?” You asked skeptically, and he at least has the good grace to look sheepish. “Not for at least six weeks, more than likely closer to ten, plus physical therapy.” 

“God damnit,” Aaron sighs. 

“It could have been a lot worse, Aaron,” you point out softly, and he looks up at you. 

“You’ve been crying.” He says softly. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

“Don’t lie to a profiler,” He chides you gently.

“Well, I’m the woman who loves you and I’ve earned the right to cry when you’re hurt.” You said defensively, but not unkindly.

“Hey, I’m okay. Really, I swear. Come up here,” he urges you, and you roll your watery eyes. 

“I’ll hurt you,” you tell him. 

“You’ll hurt me worse if you don’t come cuddle,” he pouts. 

“Corny bastard,” you chuckle, tenderly sliding into bed next to him. 

Unable to shift and cuddle, Aaron settles for reaching out for your hand, which you allow him to take in his own. He strokes his thumb over the back of your palm tenderly. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he whispers, and you might start crying again right there.

“Don’t do it again. I was ready to kill you myself,” you warned him. 

“Noted.” 

“We should call Jack. I didn’t tell him what was going on, I didn’t want to scare him. Jess knows.” 

“I just… want to hold your hand for a couple more minutes.” 

“Okay, love. A few more minutes.”

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[lvejae]

hi!! can u write some thing with getting caught in the act with dream ?? js can be something like suggestive / fluffy! thank uu <33

of course!!! i love this idea so much!!

mark!!! you guys were actually home alone at the dorm for once. this was rare, as he had 23 members and three different schedules to keep up with. you were originally watching a movie, until mark had gotten too touchy. one kiss turned into a make out session, causing you to sit on your boyfriends lap. “m-mark baby i don’t think this is a good idea, w-what if the boys come home” you stuttered as he sucked little hickeys onto your neck. he pulled away, “babe, calm down we’ve got so much time left”, he brought his lips to yours. you both were lost in the feeling, only for the moment to be broken by a few screaming boys.“OH MY GOD!” taeyong screamed. “MARK LEE I SWEAR IF YOU ARE HAVING SEX ON OUR COUCH ILL KILL YOU!” jungwoo yelled. your faces went bright red. you immediately hid yourself in marks shoulder. “we were ONLY kissing” mark tried to clear the air. “more like making babies” yuta replied. mark apologized, and quickly took you to his room. making sure to LOCK the door. “anyways, where were we…”

renjun!!! you and renjun were in the kitchen making some pastries. your job was making the cake batter, while renjun made the icing. you were almost done whisking it all together when he wiped some icing on your face, more specifically your lip and jaw. “renjunnnnn!!!!” you gasped as he laughed at you. “why would you rub icing on my face?” you started to argue, putting down the bowl and whisk in your hand. “so i could do this” he kissed your lips, eventually getting the icing off. “smooth” you giggled at him. he moved down to your jaw, determined to get the icing off. just that moment, mark walked in. “oh my god oh my god MY EYES” he screeched, turning himself around and speed walking out of the room. you both blushed before finishing what you started.

jeno!!! you and jeno were in the practice room, alone. you were just watching him dance while eating an orange. he looked so good with the sweat dripping down his neck, you couldn’t fight the urge to kiss him right then and there. once the music stopped you immediately went up to him, not expecting the kiss to become heated so quickly. the rest of the dreamies walk in, making gagging noises, “ewwww why can’t you two get a room” renjun rolls his eyes. you and jeno end up breaking the kiss due to your giggles, “you just ruined the moment dude”.

jaemin!!! you and jaemin weren’t exactly having sex, let’s call it making out on his bed while in your underwear. it started out as cuddling, until he got too flirty. who could blame you? jaemin has been both very busy and hot lately. you had hardly any alone time together, so you were just trying to work with what you had. jaemin is just about to whisper in your ear when the door opened, only to reveal jisung. he quickly pulled the covers up, covering your body specifically. it takes jisung a few seconds to realize what he just walked in on, “...holy sh…. HYUNG IM JUST GRABBING MY PHONE CHARGER I PROMISE I WILL BE QUICK IM SO SORRY” he rambles on as he races in and out of the room. once he shuts the door, you and jaemin begin cracking up, “sung is so cute,” he starts “but not as cute as you” kissing you softly again.

haechan!!! you were in the car driving home from one of his schedules, when haechan decided that he was bored and that this stupid car ride was too long. he put his hand on your thigh, slowly moving it up higher. haechan and you sat in the back of the car, so he figured no one would really notice what was happening. once you caught onto what he was doing, you grabbed his hand and whisper yelled in his ear, “hyuck?! what are you doing? we are in the car with the rest of your bandmates!”. he chuckles lowly and whispers back, “cmon baby, just give in. i promise you they won’t find out” he winks. you keep your grip strong on his perverted hand, letting him know that you REALLY think it’s a bad idea. he catches your eyes and pulls you into him for a kiss. a cute little kiss becomes a heated, which you could of gotten away with if he didn’t MOAN INTO IT. jaemin turns around and glares at haechan, only to pull out his phone and text him, “dude, if youre gonna fuck your girlfriend, at least wait until we are HOME. ya nasty”. hyuck shows you the texts and you shoot him an i told you so look.

chenle!!! you were sitting on chenles lap doing his makeup. this time he actually ASKED you to do it. usually you would have to beg him for it, and only half the time he would let you. when he asked you, you sprinted to your bag and grabbed a bunch of your favorite makeup. he found you so cute. you came back to the couch and sat on him, rummaging through your bag, “what do you want me to do baby?” you asked. “anything! i don’t care, just make me pretty like you” he flirted. you flushed and started to draw a tiny wing with your favorite blue eyeliner. it was so hard to focus with him staring at you, so you had to do both sides a few times. as you were examining your work, renjun and haechan burst through the door: “CHENLE-YA!!! Y/N!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?”haechan screams. you laugh awkwardly and start fidgeting in your boyfriend’s lap. chenle looks at the boys and rolls his eyes, “i’m just letting y/n do my makeup. nothing more than that you PERVERTS!” he yells.

jisung!!! you guys were laying on the couch. he was playing one of his many video games and you were reading a book. somehow, jisung convinced you to give him a kiss for every kill he got. once his 3rd round ended, he looked for you and said, “y/n!! i got 28 kills, where are my 28 kisses”. you put down your book and complained, “havent you gotten enough kisses yet?”. “nope!” he pulled you onto him, and you started landing kisses on every inch of his face. as soon as you got to your 10th kiss, which just happened to be on his lips, chenle and jeno walked in. “EW JISUNG AND Y/N ARE MAKING OUT!” chenle shouts. you and your boyfriend sat up and dusted yourself off quickly. “n-no we weren’t. we were just kissing!” jisung stutters as both of your faces start to turn red. “don’t worry about it ji, have fun!” jeno winks as he pulls chenle back out of the house.

[gay-snom]

contextualizing lwj’s coming to terms with his feelings subplot!

i wanna talk about the role of confucianism in this subplot because i think it’s something some western fans might not pick up on. basically, the sociopolitical climate of confucianism in his character arc, and a little bit about his interaction with the public image theme.

disclaimer: i’m not chinese but i do have a double minor in chinese and asian studies and have written a few papers on confucianism.

we’re gonna be talking about the novel bc i feel its a little more in-depth and nuanced than lwj’s “what is black, what is white” monologue in cql. namely the tension and misunderstanding in wwx’s first life and how lwj got his scars. i feel like it’s pretty well accepted that wwx made lwj reconsider his world view, so i’m just gonna expand on it. also i want to point out it's pretty unspoken in most of the text, but lwj is also affected by/used to explore the public image themes, as his image the is ideal confucian scholar.

confucianism is centered around the ideas of how to behave “good” in sociopolitical contexts. basically it boils down to a belief system on how society should be run. if everyone follows confucian beliefs, you will have an ideal society. the main text is the Analects, which you can read here. it’s been around for a few thousand years (like around 200 BCE ish), had a huge revival in the tang dynasty (618-907 CE). it was put on imperial exams, the emperor’s cabinet had confucian scholars, etc. this is just to say confucian values are important to historic society, especially upper-class scholars, which seems to be a role cultivators commonly fill in xianxia. here are some basic tenants:

being a gentleman/scholar/superior man (君子 jūn zǐ) : partly being learned in the arts, literature, music, poetry, etc., mostly behaving righteously and dutifully.

filial piety: usually described as obedience. it's not simply obeying everything elders tell you, it includes doing it with reverence and thankfulness for their sacrifices for you.

leading by example: if leaders/the government is righteous, the people will follow. lwj has his flock of juniors that are all strong cultivators and the lan sect is just generally known for being moral and good.

rites/rituals: a focus on politeness and holding proper ceremonies, sacrifices, and funerals

speech: there’s some great meta about the register he speaks in here, i just want to touch on think carefully before you speak, only speak sincerely, etc.

tldr; lwj is THE perfect gentleman (even his title contains the character suffix 君 -jūn, like lxc. which, while this character is not uncommon for cultivator titles, it wasn’t chosen carelessly either. also not to be confused with 尊 -zūn). seriously, look at almost all of book 10 and you'll see don't do/consume in excess, don't talk during meals, sit only when your mat is straight, etc.

okay, so Why is understanding his feelings for wwx so troublesome?

1.2 "They are few who, being filial and fraternal, are fond of offending against their superiors. There have been none, who, not liking to offend against their superiors, have been fond of stirring up confusion... Filial piety and fraternal submission! - are they not the root of all benevolent actions?"

in other words, people who are filial will never create political tension. so like, morally, wwx should be considered horrible person! he’s not only snubbed the jiang sect. he was a head disciple who undoubtedly had younger students looking up to him. and then he goes and stirs up some huge political issues! he is now a bad role model for the people below him and disrespected the people above him. lwj has an entire image to uphold, he has poured his entire life into following these rules and beliefs, and then wwx comes along. would continuing to be in wwx's life taint lwj? there are some contradicting teachings in regards to interacting with wwx:

15.4: "Do not take counsel with those who follow a different Way"

15.28: "When the multitude hates a person, you must examine them and judge for yourself. The same holds true for someone whom the multitude love."

15.36 "When it comes to being Good, defer to no one, not even your teacher."

this is part of the reason lwj had so much trouble accepting his feelings. he didn’t know how to handle this situation, making him appear distant during/directly after sunshot. if he judges wwx's intentions to be pure, it's then not wrong to be friendly with him. but wwx still is morally wrong by society's standards. now, lwj has to not only figure out his feelings, but also reconcile this with how he still thinks wwx is Not a bad person, despite everything. what if he does get "tainted" by wwx? will it hurt the reputation of his sect? that would be un-filial, right? he spent his whole life memorizing rules that are probably extremely similar to sections in the Analects, and now these mixed messages (coupled with the relatable gay panic) are overwhelming.

onto the next! there’s something unspoken in the scene where wwx discovers why lwj has the whip scars. as other posts have mentioned, lwj taking wwx back to the burial mounds and nursing him is high treason. however, this action is also extremely un-filial. also his entire image is built around being a perfect gentleman, if this were to get out to the public he would lose absolutely everything. he would be just as irreparable as wwx.

“I was worried if those from another sect found you first, WangJi would be considered your accomplice. The best scenario was his name being forever tainted, and the worst was his life being taken away right then. Thus, along with Uncle, we chose thirty three seniors who had always thought highly of WangJi... ”

there’s no way lwj didn’t know what would happen if he did this. obviously as lxc says, if this got out, he would lose basically his entire face. and even though lxc didn’t mention this, it would definitely lose a lot of face for the lan sect as well since lwj is so prominent. the decision about what elders to bring is also notable.

“...As if he knew all along he would be discovered by us, he said that there was nothing to explain, that this was it. Growing up, he had never talked back to Uncle, not even once. But for you, not only did WangJi talk back to him, he even met with his sword the cultivators from the Gusu Lan sect...”

so yeah, he obviously knew they would come for him and what the consequences would be. and he still talked back! that’s already not a good look for the lan sect. but attacking them? totally unforgivable! lwj gives up how he was raised and the importance of filial piety, what he has held on to until this major plot event. since it's basically the biggest "fuck you" to his uncle and his clan, this was not a decision he made lightly. lwj shows them he cares more about wwx and His Own ideas of right and wrong than the sect’s or society’s.

Wei WuXian dug his hands into his hair, “...I-I didn’t know... I really...”

when was the last time wwx was at a loss for words? wwx spends a few paragraphs after this lamenting how he hurt lwj, but he's not unaware of the gravity of what lwj did. it's an underlying assumption from being raised in the culture. i would argue his first instinct is "oh god he gave up what for me?" since those lamenting paragraphs are after lxc finishes speaking.

"But he said... that he could not say with certainty whether what you did was right or wrong..."

this is something thrown around a lot in the Analects, that not even confucius can say for sure what is right or wrong. what better way to show lwj is still a perfect confucian than have him paraphrase confucius himself?

“...WangJi was a model for the disciples when he was young, and a prominent cultivator when he grew up. In his whole life he had been honest and righteous and immaculate--you were the only mistake he made!”

here’s the confirmation that the world and even his family thinks of him as a perfect gentleman, the top tier of society, and it was all thrown away for wwx. this is just so heavy. the mistake thing? thats not only because lwj is fraternizing with an enemy. lxc and the rest of the sect who knew are terrified this will forever corrupt lwj personally, not just publicly. lwj was so devoted to believing this was the right thing to do he offered up everything he had. the gravity of this decision is insane. it’s very obvious that he loves wwx, it’s just that he struggles a lot internally to accept everything that is happening.

as for helping wwx leave after the massacre, is this gentleman-ly of lwj? was it actually in-line with his image? is it more honorable to save someone who is dying, at the cost of your own health, than to look away? isn't looking away a form of resentment? i wasn't able to find a specific passage about bystander-ness, but personally i think it qualifies as "bad intentions." there is also this passage for what it's worth, originally it was about government suppression:

12.19: "...What do you say to killing the unprincipled for the good of the principled?" Confucius replied, "...why should you use killing at all?..."

lwj is always more actions than words, and he was not fucking around. his core beliefs really haven't changed, and remain very strong throughout his life. he is still righteous enough to accept his punishment, graceful enough to search for wwx's body since there was no one else to do the funeral rites (10.22/10.15), caring enough to take in a-yuan, upright enough to still spend his years going where the chaos is.

just with this one action, the audience knows he has come to terms with realizing that authority isn't always just, and neither is the public opinion/opinion of other gentlemen. he has reconciled. this is him standing for what he believes is right. this is his devotion. this is his own choice. just. poetic cinema...

anyway that's it for my first meta post! i would love to hear your thoughts, feelings, opinions, discussions, other meta ideas, whatever! thank u for reading! <3