#you don’t understand they’re so them and it means so much to me

[pitchsidestories]

look at us now II Renée Slegers x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 2689

summary: former lovers reunite at Arsenal.

author's note: hi, our first Renée Slegers fanfic, let us know your thoughts on it. As always this is purely fiction, enjoy. 🤍❤️

image sources

 “So, you hired another assistant coach without telling me?”, Renée asked incredulously, well aware that except for her, the room was full of very important looking men.

One of them nodded sternly: “You needed another one. We made the decision for you.”

Renée closed her eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to protest. She was Arsenals new head coach after all.

With forced calmness, she asked: “Who is it?”

“You know her already.”

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She opened her mouth in order to ask what that was about to mean when you finally made your appearance. You had waited all morning in anticipation to surprise your former teammate with your presence.

“Hello Renée.”, you greeted her as you walked into the room.

Recognition flashed across her face, followed by genuine excitement. She got up from her chair, beaming: “You!”

Before you knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a way too tight hug.

“Yes, it’s me. Don’t strangle me, please! That would be sad first last workday at the Arsenal.”, you laughed.

“You’re so stupid! I missed you so much.”, Renée giggled but finally let go of you.

For a second, you stood there and took each other in and it almost felt like nothing had changed since you played together in Sweden.

“I missed you too but now every player and staff member are staring at us which is kind of awkward.”, you admitted, nodding towards the door where the first pairs of eyes tried to figure out who the newest addition to the team was.

“They’re just curious about you. Let me introduce you.”, Renée suggested, leading you out of the conference room.

You followed patiently.

“Renée, who’s that girl you almost couldn’t let go of?”, Beth asked, blinking innocently at you.

“That’s y/n. She’s the new assistant coach and we used to play together for Linköpings.”, Renée explained. You didn’t miss the slight hint of pride in her voice.

Your eyes found another Swede between the players.

“Actually, I played with Stina too.”, you added.

The striker smiled at you: “Good to see you again.”

“You too. And I can’t wait to get to know each of you.”, you said towards the crowd.

Renée turned to you: “You will love them.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Suddenly, your hand was in Renées as she dragged with her towards the football pitches. You could still feel the eyes of your new players on you as you followed Renée.

The eyes of Stina's teammates were expectantly drawn to her once the two of you had left the room.

An edgy laugh escaped the blonde’s lips: “What? Why are you all looking at me now?”

“Tell us!”, Beth commanded grinning.

The Swedish striker began to play nervously with her blonde hair: “Well what do you want to know?”

“About our new staff member and Renée of course!”, Leah replied thrilled.

Using the same excited tone as her, Beth added: “Obviously.”

“Not if she was a good baller or had a good sense and understanding of the game.”, Stinas eyes flashed in amusement.

“Actually.”, threw Kim in who was unlike the rest of the players indeed interested in that side of you.

The England captain clicked her tongue disapprovingly: “No, Kim.”

“We want the tea, Stina.”, Alessia told her.

She paused dramatically, during which everyone held their breath tensely, before admitting:” Yeah, they used to date.”

“When they were players or did, they continue to date once she became the head coach?”, Leah asked the forward curiously.

Stina cleared her throat and answered in a serious voice: “They ended it once Renée retired and took the coaching job in Rosengård.”

After this revelation the room fell silent for a second before Beth concluded with a heavy sigh:” Oh, that’s sad.”

“They seemed okay with it.”, the Swedish striker remarked.

Meanwhile Renée and you were walking along the training pitches, it was a cold day, but the golden afternoon sun warmed your faces. It was where you heard yourself say: “I’m glad that you don’t seem to mind that I took the job, Renée. Considering how things have ended between us in Malmö.”

“We mutually agreed to end this relationship.”, the Arsenal head coach remembered, while the smile disappeared from her face.

“True, it was the best solution at that time.”, you nodded.

Slowly, as the sunlight disappeared, the warmth returned to Renee's dark eyes, confessing:” I’m just happy to see you again.”

“Same. Nothing more.”, you agreed.

“That’s good.”, she observed.

At the end of your tour, you wished her goodbye:” So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes. See you tomorrow.”, Renée waved at you, her gaze following you until you were gone.

With a heavy heart the Dutch woman reminisced about all the wins and losses you had shared together in Sweden until her career ending injury put an end to it. Like a disco ball, Renée had put the shards that had caused the separation into each other to turn the pain into something bright.

She was content with her work, so love life wasn't a big issue until you came back into her life and made her wonder if maybe she should expect more from life.

The next day, you entered the training ground in a cheerful mood. “Good morning, Stina!”, you greeted your former teammate warmly.

“Morning.”, Stina beamed brightly back at you.

There was no time for small talk as Kelly Smith approached you: “Y/n?”

“Yes?”, you asked surprised. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe that you were working with her. Not only was she a legendary player for England but also for the whole of womens football.

She still smiled politely at you: “I think Renée is looking for you.”

You nodded once: “I’m coming.”

Renée was already on the pitch, one foot on a ball and her arms folded over her chest as she waited for the players to arrive.

You caught her eye from the other side of the field and smiled at her.

For a split second, Renée lost her balance on the ball, stumbling forward but catching herself quickly.

It all went by so fast, you had no time to worry about her.

“You’re good?”, you called out to her, teasing.

You had the feeling that somewhere behind you, Kelly was holding back laughter.

Renées cheeks had turned a slightly darker colour: “Yeah, of course.”

“Kelly said you wanted to see me?”, you said as you finally crossed the pitch.

“I do.”

You leaned forward, whispering: “I saw the dinner invitation in the locker room.”

The corners of Renées mouth quirked up: “Good. Are you free tonight?”

“Yes, I am. Will Kelly and the boys join us too?”

“No, it’s just us.”

Somehow your brain stopped working in that exact moment. You weren’t prepared for you and her. You had been thinking of nice little staff dinner where you had the opportunity to get to know everyone better. Being alone with Renée made your heart race a little.

Hesitantly, you accepted the invitation: “Alright… I guess I’ll go back to work.”

“Okay.”, Renée nodded.

Luckily, the players entered the pitch at that moment.

Beth who had caught the end of your conversation, stared at Renée with hopeful eyes: “Is that a date?”

“No.”, the head coach replied matter-of-factly.

Victoria elbowed Beth in the side: “Stop seeing things, Beffy.”

“I don’t”, the winger protested.

Kim rolled her eyes: “Yes, you do. You’re delusional.”

“You will see.”, Beth said full of confidence before Renée sent them to warm up.

Against your better judgement, you found yourself in a tiny but charming restaurant that night.

“The dinner is so delicious, Renée.”, you said, taking a sip of your wine.

She smiled at you almost shyly: “Glad you like it.”

“Next time we should bring the whole team and staff here.”

Her face turned a bit more serious: “Yes, we should. But first I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“About something specific?”

“No, just to catch up.”, Renée explained whose cheeks were slightly reddish in colour, you weren’t sure whether it was the wine or her nervousness. 

Instead of looking into her curious dark chocolate brown eyes, you stared at the wine glass in front of you as you confessing: ”I left Sweden because I needed a change.”

“A change?”, she repeated your words in a sincerely interested tone.

For a moment, you paused while the waitress lit the candle in the centre of the table, the flickering light made the conversation even more intimate: “To heal from heartbreak. What about you? What did I miss?”

“Not much. I tried to focus on football after leaving Rosengård.“, the football coach admitted casually. Whilst Renée undid her low hair bun so that her dark brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders.

With an amused smile on your lips, you remarked in disbelief:” That doesn’t sound like the fun Renée I knew from Linköping.”

Memories of her with a big cigar in her mouth and a ridiculous hat after winning the Swedish league came to your mind.

“Hey, I’m still fun.”, protested the Dutch woman, pointing her fork at you.

You cleared your throat and replied more seriously:” Yes, the players seem to think that too.”

“I take that as a compliment.”, she responded happily.

“You should, they’re really great to work with so far.”, you acknowledged.

Her radiant grin was infectious:” I think they like you too.”

“Only Beth is a bit annoying with..”, you began, thinking about the huge interest the English striker had in your private lives.

Renée waved your worries off:” Yes, I know. But that’s just how she’s, she only has good intentions.”

“I guess that’s true. I mean would be crazy if you still would have -.. , right?”, you started to ramble.  

She lifted an eyebrow at you: “Would have what?”

“Feelings after a mutual breakup.”, you finished your previous sentence flustered.

The brunette spoke your name gently.

“Yes?”, you glanced at her expectantly.

Fiercely and passionately, Renée continued: “Of course I do. I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t have feelings for you anymore, I broke up with you because I suddenly was your coach, and it was wrong to date a player.”

Afterwards, there was a dramatic silence at the table. “Well, I’m not a player anymore.”, you said matter-of-factly.

“I’m aware of that.”, she answered with a wistful smile.

Slightly sheepishly, you asked her:” Was that why you wanted a dinner with me alone first?”

“To see if we could get back together? No. I wanted to know how you’re, what you’ve been up to?”, the football coach tried to be professional again.

“Now you know.”

“I do.”, Renée confirmed, playing with the idea to order some dessert for both of you as it was a speciality of this restaurant.

Much to her disappointment though, you stood up:” Thank you for the dinner, it was a nice catching up.”

“Yes, I agree.”, the brunette waved at the waitress, signalling that she was ready to pay for the two of you.

The first game of the year and also the first game in your new job was against Crystal Palace a few days later. To your delight, the girls played great, winning the game 5:0 and building their confidence in this first game.

“Great win, girls.”, you clapped your hands as the referee blew the final whistle.

Renée appeared on your side.

“That’s exactly what we wanted to see.”, she agreed.

“Oh yes, well done everyone.”, you smiled and handed out water bottles to the players. They high-fived you, done but happy while Renée said a few words to the players.

Happily you watched as the players rightfully celebrated their win until an elbow to your side made you look up.

Renée was grinning at you: “Good job from you too.”

“From me? I didn’t do much yet.”, you said, feeling heat rise into your cheeks.

“You did everything I expect from my assistant coach. Arsenal made the right decision, we’re a good team.”, Renée said softly.

You nodded, smiling gently at her: “Yes, we are.”

“Come on, let the girls celebrate.”, Renée said, nodding in the direction of the sidelines so your players could have the pitch to themselves.

You didn’t follow immediately. Instead, you pointed to a few reporters that stood on the side, waiting for their first interviews. “The media already calls for you.”

“On my way.”, Renée winked and disappeared into the direction of the cameras.

Just when you were wondering when exactly she became so comfortable giving interviews, Leah stepped into your field of vision.

“Leah? Shouldn’t you celebrate with your teammates?”, you asked jokingly.

She shrugged with a smile: “I was about to. It’s not everyday that you score a goal as a defender.”

“I know. That’s why you need to enjoy every second of it.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”, you laughed.

Leah pushed you gently towards the rest of the team: “Celebrate with us!”

There was no way you could decline now, so you agreed and followed along: “Alright.”

A few minutes of jumping and hugging several players later, Renée found you on the pitch again.

Her eyes glowed with amusement: “Did they manage to get you to celebrate with them?”

“I couldn’t say no to that.”, you admitted

“Of course not.”, Renée laughed.

“See?”

She winked at you: “Enjoy your first win.”

You toasted to her with a random water bottle that somehow had ended up in your hand: “To many more wins.”

“Yes, please.”, she laughed.

“Y/n! Come with us!”, Beth interrupted your conversation and waved you over.

“Where are we going?”, you asked.

“It’s a surprise.”, Mariona replied instead of Beth, smiling excitedly.

It was already night when you got home and when you saw Renée's number light up on your mobile phone, you held your breath for a moment, although you didn't know exactly why.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you up.”, she apologized quietly as you answered her call.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips: “No, I was still awake, the Arsenal players can stay in pubs forever let me tell you that.

“Oh, I know, they did that to me too once.”, the Dutch woman remembered fondly.

“Kim and I left at the same time.” Teasingly you added:” So did you call me because you have come up with a masterplan against Chelsea or is it something else?”

“It’s something else. There’s something I need to talk about with you”, Renée admitted.

Your heart began to race: “Sure.”

“I kind of miss what we had back when.”, the head coach confessed.

The moment she said that you caught yourself reminiscing about memories of the past “Me too. We had some good parties with the team back then too.”

“Y/n.. I meant us. You and me.”, Renée clarified.

You felt the hope rise in you: “Do you think we could start again?”

“I don’t know, would you even like that? Or would you rather want to keep it professional.”, she began to nervously ramble.

You had heard yourself thinking out loud: “Pretty sure both can work this time.”

“Yes, but I want to know what you want.”

“I want to be with you. Renée, you’re an idiot, why are you standing outside in the cold?!”, you whispered into the phone, your eyes wandering off to the window where you noticed her in flesh and blood under the golden glow of the streetlamp light.

“In case that you say yes. What did you expect me to do? Go back to bed?”, Renée questioned with a warm laugh.  

Soon you got up to go to the front door: “Wait, I’ll let you in.”

“Thanks.”, she replied relived.

“You look like you’re freezing, come inside.”, you observed while you let her inside.

The brunette thanked you once more, kissing you, her icy lips melting on yours as the door closed behind the two of you.

[raebiis]

I was thinking about this last night, so I’ll share the idea I had here:

Organized crime- not (explicitly) the mafia bc that’s just gauche. But their roots are the same. This is temporarily from the love interest’s POV, so I’ll refer to them as MC for now. Also, this was more meant to be a sort of ‘warning’ to the MC but they’re drawn in anyway- it gets much worse when romance is involved… tbh I just love a good toxic relationship.

The MC (who I personally imagined as Al Pacino’s Micheal Corleone- a little fanfic just for me- but to each their own) is witness to an argument between two sisters. One is the ‘leader’ and the other is… not ignorant, but also not completely informed.

The other is a recovering addict who relapsed and the leader found out about it. The leader confronts the other and there’s an ensuing argument/one sided screaming fest while the other cries and tries to shift blame.

She blames it on her longtime boyfriend (there’s history there).

It’s a mistake.

“Oh,” leader says, suddenly calm. And why does she look a little amused? “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” cries other, unable to recognize the danger through her tears.

“Are you absolutely positive that it’s his fault?” Leader clarifies. “And this is how you want this to go?”

“Yes,” other insists.

“Okay,” leader says, and leans in to press a kiss to others head, “then just rest here and I’ll take care of it.”

And other would know better, should know better, if not for the relief of leader no longer being upset with her.

It’s only when leader pulls a gun from the drawer next to her that other catches on. But it’s too late, leader has already silently ordered the goons to keep other there and out of the way.

Other is begging, pleading, but her words fall on deaf ears. Leader brushes past MC on her way out, and MC turns to watch her out of the window.

Other’s boyfriend is outside, having just exited the shed out back. He looks up at Leader and begins to smile before she raises the gun- his face hardly has time to shift in horror before-

!!!

Leader takes her time meandering back to the house, other’s wails can be heard all the way down to the lake at the bottom of the hill the house sits on.

When leader enters again, MC can feel their heart racing and they take a measured step back. But leader doesn’t even notice them.

She sets the gun aside and goes to her sister, gathering her in her arms and shushing her tears.

“It’s alright,” says leader, “don’t worry. I’ve taken care of the problem. You can start to really work on recovery, now.”

And other blubbers out something that sounds a lot like a confession to having lied. Her boyfriend was innocent?

Leader’s smile is unsettling when she pulls back and cradles her sister’s crying face (she already knew). “Don’t say that, other. Because if he wasn’t the source of the infection?”

Her thumbs press deeply into the hinge of her sister’s jaw, and her smile is long gone by now.

“That means I’ll just have to cut deeper.”

And other has a look on their face- understanding, despair, and the unconditional love of siblings forged in fire. Other knows to forgive leader is to invite more pain, but how could she not? Leader is her sister, and her sister has been by her side all these years. And her sister isn’t always terrible. Most of the time she’s kind, generous, gentle…. That’s gotta mean something. It has to make up for all the times leader is cruel.

Doesn’t it?

(And, of course, we see the same happen to MC. They’ve seen the warning signs, but leader at her best is just so charming and so loving- how could they ever not love her? Why, even in her most wicked moments leader is only expressing the depth of their unfathomable love. Leader hurts them to save them. Right?)

fucked up hurt/comfort. the person who stabbed you tends to your wound. the person who killed your loved one helps you grieve.

[vershautece]

u not liking the stretch marks u got during ur pregnancy but they make lu go feral

yessss he would make sure u know how perfect u are, you’d start feeling insecure during sex and he’d hate that

imagine you’ve just got on top to ride him but you look down at yourself and remember about your stretch marks: ‘um lu i don’t know if im in the mood actually’ and you go to get off of him but he pulls you back onto his lap

‘hey? what’s wrong, you were just all over me?’ he’s looking up at you concerned

‘um yeah i don’t know, it’s just-’

his hands are rubbing softly over your hips, and you look down at the stretch marks there, feeling bad that you don’t look as good as you did before your pregnancy. you have some on your inner thighs and your boobs, and of course on your stomach - yesterday you guys had sex for the first time since you gave birth, but it was in the dark so you didn’t mind. now he can see the marks all over you, and you desperately want to cover yourself and not bother him.

‘hm? what is it, baby girl? are you still not ready to start having sex? i only instigated it because you seemed happy last night’ he’s still looking up at you with worry in his eyes, and you lean forward into him, wrapping your arms around his neck while he wraps his arms tight around your waist. he kisses your cheek and waits for you to answer

‘i didn’t wanna say anything because i’m embarrassed, but uh, i’m not really in the mood because i feel bad that i’m, y’know, not at my best for you’

‘baby, what do you mean? you were fucking amazing for me last night, i thought i told you clear enough’ he laughs, his hands drifting down to grip your ass. all you can think about is how you’re on top of him and if you lean back again he’ll be able to see every single one of the marks on your skin

‘yeah, i mean i don’t look my best, y’know?’ you get embarrassed just telling him this, anxiously playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. as soon as you say this he gently moves your head back to look into your eyes, while you try to look away. ‘huh? what do you mean? amore - look at me’

you make eye contact with him, and the way he’s looking up at you with so much concern has you melting. ‘my stretch marks, they’re literally all over my body’ you sigh, going forward to rest on his chest again so he can’t see them. ‘yeah, and what? hey - baby, stop hiding your pretty body from me, sit back up properly’ he speaks to you in that deep, honeyed voice, shifting you so you’re sat back up on him again

‘lu stop it i know i don’t look good, that’s what happens after pregnancy, it doesn’t matter’ you sigh, and he clenches his jaw at the way you speak about yourself. one of his hands rubs at your right hip, the other moving to play with the fingers on your left hand. ‘i don’t wanna hear you talk that way about yourself, okay? you have these marks because you carried and gave birth to our baby, and there is nothing sexier to me than making love to the mother of my child. you understand?’ he doesn’t break eye contact with you, and when you try to look away he uses one of his hands to turn your face to him. ‘c’mere’ he whispers, bringing your lips to his and caressing your waist. when he pulls away, he smirks at you: ‘you didn’t even give me time to play with those perfect breasts’, now he’s pressing kisses down your neck, ‘tell you how gorgeous they are… grip your waist and hips, press kisses along your stomach down to your thighs…’ you’re starting to rock your hips onto him now, getting back in the mood as he praises you, your wetness dripping onto his hardening cock, hands pulling at his curls.

‘te amo, bellissima. you gonna let me show you how perfect you are for me?’ he stops kissing your neck to look up at you. ‘mhmmm, yeah, thank you baby’ you moan, humping his erection. he laughs at you softly: ‘i knew you were in the mood, my love. c’mon, let me make you feel good - gonna give you this cock every day from now on, it’s been too long and i need to treat my beautiful girl, need to get your perfect body to cum for me’

‘i love you, luigi - mm - i’m so lucky to have you’ you’re rocking yourself even more desperately on him, as you grip his cock to guide it inside. but he holds your wrist to stop you: ‘hey, not yet, let me eat you out first.’

‘mm, luigi, do that after, i’m so desperate for you, baby - and you can touch all of me in this position. god, i need you to fuck me, please’ you’re whining on top of him, and he laughs as he holds your left hip in one hand and guides his cock into your pussy with the other. ‘so much for someone who wasn’t in the mood, hm? you know you were being so stupid, dolcezza’ he whispers, pushing in the tip. you moan out loudly, and he laughs. ‘shhh, you’re gonna wake our baby. and that’s just the tip, my love’

‘mmm, so big lu’ you whine, gripping his shoulders. ‘oh i know, i know, mhm’ he coos. ‘it’s a good thing she was at your mom’s yesterday when i basically took your virginity again, you were screaming for me all night’ he laughs softly. you’re still struggling today though, and you bite your lip to try to stop the sounds. ‘i’m gonna rub your clit while i push in slowly, okay?’

‘mhm’ you moan in response, and he starts to draw teasingly slow circles on your bundle of nerves as he gradually pushes the rest of himself in you and bottoms out. he groans at the feeling, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you whimper. while he gives you time to adjust, his attention turns to your breasts, pressing soft kisses around your areolas without sucking on your nipples because unfortunately for him, they’re for your baby right now. ‘so fuckin’ pretty… you don’t think these marks are sexy?’ he mutters against your skin, drifting his fingers over your stretch marks before gripping both of your breasts tightly and kneading them in his big hands.

‘lu, mmm, be careful, i might leak’ you moan, and he smiles up at you with a slight smirk, moving his hands to your ass. ‘it’s okay if you do, it’s natural - you ready for me to move? i’ll do all the work for you, just want you to rest on my cock while i thrust up into that pussy, yeah?’

‘yes, that’s fine baby’ you grip his shoulders so tight in anticipation, and he plants his feet on the bed, bends his knees and starts his thrusts, setting a steady pace. ‘mm, luigi, fuck’

‘that feel good, hm? yeah, baby girl? takin’ it so well’ he groans, squeezing your ass and moving his head to get a better look at it. ‘gonna show you that ass in the mirror later, those marks make you look even sexier than you did before - i didn’t think it was possible, mm’ his thrusts get faster now, and he smacks your ass lightly. you squeal, and he chuckles and reminds you to be quiet: ‘sh, princess, remember she’s asleep in the next room’

‘how am i supposed to stay quiet when you fuck me like this, mmm’ you’re breathless and you’re not even bouncing; his thrusts are hitting your g spot perfectly and it’s too much to take already

‘we’re gonna have to start practicing staying quiet for our girl ‘cause i need to start fucking you every night again like we used to’ he lands another soft smack on your ass, and you drag your hand down to play with your clit but he moves it away swiftly and replaces it with his own. ‘bella ragazza, i’m still doing everything for you at least for the next two weeks, mhm? you just take my cock, let me make you feel good, that’s it baby girl’ his fore and middle finger work so perfectly on your sensitive clit, and you’re so in love with how he treats you that you instinctively lean forward to make out with him. your tongues meet, and you moan into each other’s mouths, the pace of lu’s fingers and his thrusts never faltering. the hand on your ass comes up to caress your cheek as you kiss, and after a couple minutes he pulls away, feeling your walls clench around him.

‘oh, amore mio, you gonna cum for me, yeah? lay on my chest, baby’ he pauses his thrusts for a moment as he lies down just a little so you can lay on him - he’s still sat up slightly to continue pounding up into you. when he resumes his thrusts you’re biting your lip so hard so your daughter doesn’t hear, fingers tight in his curls and you’re getting extra stimulation from the way your breasts are pressing against his chest, rubbing up and down his pectorals with the pace of his thrusts.

‘luigi, fuck, baby’ you’re a moaning mess, and you start to feel your boobs lactate a small amount onto his chest. you feel a little embarrassed, but you know he wouldn’t mind and it’s his fault for stimulating your body so well. his hands are gripping your ass tight, smoothing his fingers over the stretch marks there and on your hips as he thrusts up into you impossibly faster.

‘i love you my princess, cum for me - you’re so beautiful, love feeling you’ he whispers into your ear as he moves one hand to caress your hair and the side of your face, pressing sweet kisses on your forehead. when you’re both getting so close, he wraps his arms around your waist protectively and you can hear his soft grunts in your ear. you’re so desperate for your release that you’re rocking your hips back onto his cock, moaning into his neck. ‘i love you, lu, you’re everything to me’ your words get muffled against his skin

‘dolcezza, you’re the perfect mama - wanna give you my last name, give you more of my babies’ his grunts and soft whines directly in your ear paired with his words and his thrusts have you feeling like you’re in heaven

‘i want that so bad, mm, baby, i’m gonna cum’ you’re so fucked out against him, your words coming out incoherently.

‘yeah, me too princess, aw c’mon, we gonna start making another baby, huh? want me to keep fucking you raw every night? i love your body so much’

you’re so glad you’re pressed against his chest so your moans are muffled because otherwise you’d be screaming. ‘yeah i want your cum, oh please lu, give it to me, oh god i’m g-’ you cut yourself off with a strangled moan as you get your release, and moments later you feel his hot cum spill inside you, a loud groan leaving his throat. you’re both breathing heavily for a while, playing with each other’s hair. you’re so cosy on his chest, and you don’t ever want to move. ‘baby, don’t pull out’ you mutter into his neck, and he smiles: ‘you want my cum so deep, huh?’ you both giggle, and he continues whispering to you: ‘hold on, i’m serious now, amore - do you really want another baby so soon? i’ll get you plan b and we can start using protection again - i’m not pressuring you, beautiful. i wanna have more kids but it doesn’t have to be anytime soon’

you pull away from his chest a little to look into his eyes, caressing his curls. ‘luigi, i don’t mind. after going through the first pregnancy i know i’m ready for another baby whenever you are. they say that after giving birth you forget about the pain and you just want to do it all over again’

he smiles down at you: ‘that’s great baby but i don’t think i’m gonna let you get pregnant just 3 months after giving birth - let’s wait, i’ll just start pulling out cause i’m never making you go on birth control’

your heart melts at his words, and then you smirk at the last part. ‘you sure you’re gonna pull out every time? i don’t believe that’

he raises his brows at you: ‘what, you don’t think i can? you’ll see i have more self control than you think’

‘mmmkay we’ll revisit this conversation tomorrow’ you roll your eyes playfully, resting back on his chest again, and you giggle to yourself knowing your man is going to struggle like hell to pull out of you in time every single night :3

[seancekitsch]

Can we ask to see how Vik and Journalist! Reader met? That one request was so cute! I loved their dynamic

this is the prequel to this little bit

You look through the lens of your camera at the expanse of the room, much too large and much to garish in its lighting. You know for a fact you’ll have to be working extra time in your dark room to fix all of the yellow tint to this lighting. You snap the shutter a few times: at dancing couples, at dignitaries and councillors talking, at the fancy centerpieces on the tables filled with exotic flowers that probably cost more than your apartment. The night is a dull affair, but that was to be expected. All of these galas with insane names like “the covalence” or “inventorium” never failed to bore you to tears, sometimes literally. All night you find vantage points in balconies or certain corners or near the bar to capture portraits that you hope tell a story of opulence and progress. Sometimes, and more selfishly, you take pictures of what you think would make good gossip as well. More eyes means more funding for the scientists, and more money in your wallet when people pay good money for the stories those pictures could tell when you sit down in front of your typewriter tomorrow morning.

Your eyes scan the crowd from the little table that you’ve set yourself up at, a little plate of cheese and a shimmering and all too fruity cocktail that Mel, your point of contact, insisted you take. She always asks your publishers for you for these events, claiming that you capture the perfect photographs and quotes to report on the beauty and the fun of these nights. You don’t necessarily see it, as you never have any fun, but she makes sure you get paid very well and you cannot turn that down. Plus, she’s an angel, a contract you definitely don’t mind because of her sweetness and understanding. And her not-boyfriend, Jayce Talis, one of two guests of honor is maybe the nicest person in all of Piltover. 

You lift the viewfinder to your eye, ready to capture a shot of two of the academy students speaking to Heimerdinger when someone new comes into the frame. Holy shit, a new face, and a handsome one at that. Chestnut hair, pale skin, two moles punctuating sharp angles of his cheeks and jawline. Absolutely beautiful, even in the gaudy light that threatens to drown out his lovely details. 

You press the shutter without thinking. Capturing him feels like instinct.

He looks like any of the other scientists, really. The same uniform way of dress, the same colors, the same tired eyes that the rest of them have. 

You press the shutter again, still not thinking. 

He turns, stares back at you through the camera. With a smirk, he begins crossing the room with the help of his cane. You move your camera down, caught. Shit, you’ll have to think up a few bullshit interview questions on the fly. With luck, he’s as interesting as he looks. 

He crosses through the crowd, as if liquid and invisible, his command of the space impressive and making you feel for the first time tonight trapped. 

“You must be Councillor Medarda’s little reporter,” his heavily accented voice says, no proper greeting as you place your camera down on the table. The accent sounds familiar, you’ve definitely heard it before.

“Guilty,” you shrug, “So you’ve heard of me?”

“Eh, more like I was warned about you.”

That surprises you. Warned him? What would anyone need to be warned for about you? Sure, you can be a bit crass, drink a little too much, laugh a little too loud, get up to more gossip than appropriate. But none of that is really a problem on the level that any of these people should worry about. They’re scientists and politicians, people who genuinely deal with dangerous, taboo, and unknown matters. 

“Worried I’ll dig up some scoop on you, Mister…?” you trail off, hoping he’ll give you a name. 

“There’s not much to find, but my partner Jayce said you have potential to be vicious.”

You could ask him what he meant, but your eyes widen in shock. You’re so stupid. Stupid, stupid, fucking stupid.

“You’re Viktor!” you exclaim, and curse under your breath. He’s one of the guests of honor here. He and Mel’s not-boyfriend have just started some new breakthrough project. Of course, you should have known this was Viktor. Jayce had said ‘you’ll know him when you see him’ and he was right. He told you the man was quiet and aloof and not interested in impressing anyone. Jayce never told you he was so attractive, though. 

He nods, and plucks one of the cubes of cheese off of your plate as he leans himself against the table. 

“I’m supposed to ask you a few questions,” you tell him, but all of the questions you had come up with vanish from your mind now that his eyes are trained on you.

“I will answer one if you go over and ask that man for a refill of our drinks,” he says, which buys you time to think and space from him so that maybe you can think about anything other than his beautiful cheekbones and terrifyingly sharp eyes. You nod, smiling as you take a look at his cup, and he drinks a negroni. A man after your own heart, and maybe you’re fucked. You walk over to the nearest bartender, a worker just like you, with an apologetic smile. Mel always insists you enjoy, so why not actually enjoy? You ask him kindly for two negronis, pressing a few coins into his hand that from his reaction tells you has been his first tip of the night. 

What to ask Viktor, what to ask? You walk back over to him, feeling less stable on your heels not from the drink but from nerves. Viktor has, in the maybe three sentences he’s spoken, managed to knock you completely off kilter. You know you’re supposed to ask the details of the new project, of how it feels to work with the funding of the council, of the controversy surrounding their ideas, but it feels wrong. 

Viktor smiles when you return with the cups; he doesn’t smirk or scrunch his nose like you’ve noticed he does. He smiles with a lopsided and close lipped grin as you pass the cup to him. 

“Cheers,” you both mutter, clinking the rims before thunking your drinks down on the table and once again lifting them to press them to your lips. 

You sigh as you finish your sip, letting your cup rest gently on the little napkin on the table and you notice in your absence Viktor has stolen three more pieces of cheese. You’ll make sure he owes you them later, sometime. 

“So how does a breakthrough make you feel?”

Viktor seems taken aback by this question, as if he expected anything but this. It doesn’t feel out of the realm of the possibility, just not the boring normal sort of interview question. It’s vague and centered on him, not specifically the project. Maybe not what the press will want to hear, but interesting. You pull the recorder out of your little bag carefully, placing it on the table between the two of you as an unspoken ask of consent. He thinks for a moment, and then nods at you. You press the button. 

“It…. It feels like seeing an ancient God, maybe but also learning that a God exists. Euphoria and understanding meeting. Does that make sense? There’s something weird and otherworldly about uncovering something previously unknown.”

You nod, and stop the recording again. 

“That was my one, right? But can I ask for more off the record?”

“Thank you, for stopping,” he tells you, and takes a very long sip of his drink, “I will continue to entertain you because you did not ask a stupid question.”

“Thanks, Viktor,” you say, relaxing the reporter act, “Your accent though?”

You narrow your eyes, sip your drink, and watch his body language. He stays still, like a statue. 

“Are you from…?” you don’t dare say the word Zaun in this room, knowing better, “I’ve heard your accent before, I mean… I’m from.”

Again, you don’t say it, but Viktor understands what you’re trying to say.

“Are you?” he asks, “A long way from home, yes?”

You laugh, a sigh of relief. You nod and clink your glass against his again. He picks it back up and drinks again, this time feeling conspiratorial in nature. Two Zaunites in the room of Piltover’s elite. Interlopers willingly invited, beggars to the feast in the bourgeoisie midst and they might not even know it. 

“Too far, sometimes,” you admit, “But this is refreshing.”

“Yes, it is,” Viktor concedes, and silence fills the space between you. Comfortable silence, ease permeating the little bubble you’ve created for yourselves. Every once in a while you pick your camera up, taking photos of the councillors and well dressed patrons. The hours pass more quickly than they do on a usual job, with mostly silence between refilling drinks and snacks and the interludes of Viktor supplying you with a little snippet of gossip or some sharp witted insult about someone he doesn’t like. He’s such easy company, easy to talk to and easy to look at.

“That one,” Viktor tells you, pointing at Jayce Talis dressed similarly to himself, “My partner. Get his picture too.”

You point the lens where he tells you, and you snap a total of three pictures where Jayce is the focal point; a gap toothed smile and bright eyes command composition. You swivel around the room again to take a few more pictures before you decide that perhaps you have a photo of at least everyone for any editorial or photo gallery of the event your publishers would want. Before you put your camera down though, you turn it back towards Viktor. The angle and closeness will be awkward, not one that you can use for your story. You click the shutter as he grimaces.

“Must you commit me to film?”

“Well I’ve never seen you at one of these before, what if I never see you again? I need something to remember you by.”

Viktor’s eyes narrow as he takes in your words. He doesn’t respond immediately, as if he’s running some kind of calculation your voice had written.

“Do you… want to see me again?”

You bite your lip harshly, lest you shout your yes and embarrass the both of you. You taste copper.

“A little off-record meeting would be…nice.”

Viktor scoffs, and finishes his drink.

“Please, drop the professionalism,” he tells you, and it’s your turn to scoff, “I am a busy man, I would like it if you were upfront with your seduction attempt.”

“S- Seduction attempt?” you stutter before you regain yourself, leaning in closer to him as you realize he is messing with you, “is it working?”

“And if I say yes?”

Ego swells within you, and before you can think about bad ideas or prying eyes, you lean a little further until your lips brush his earlobe.

“Then yes. I’d like to see you again.”

[girl-lostconnection]

Tehehehe thinking thoughts of helldivers getting a moment to relax for once in their life and gathering up at one spot as almost like a small party, except the helldivers are being rough and rowdy with each other like how wolf/dog packs are rough and rowdy while playing, they’re trying to be playful and friendly but being out of practice on proper socialization so they can get a little too rough but they all mean well.

Even funnier idea of the 141 witnessing just a giant pack of Helldivers, maybe in and out of suits. Some of the helldivers even bringing along their ‘runts’ (cadets they’ve taken under their wings) to get them to befriend other divers so their existence would be less lonely

God, this is so cute. I love this idea so much, thank you for bringing it to me😭

Initially it was planned to be just a small gathering, few Helldivers that offered to bring you in some of their old manuals that you were collecting. But somehow along the way some of their little charges slipped onto your ship as well and then other’s on the orbit slid closer.

It was a rare thing for Helldivers to have any kind of gatherings, you weren’t the ones who were regularly invited on military parades, you weren’t ones who were invited on official military parties so you made do with what you had.

So you didn’t really have time to warn the 141 about the impromptu party that took place. And frankly, you got a bit carried away in the process.

A pack of cadets now circling your “Stratagem Hero” and Engineering compartment of the ship, whose “no way” and “lemme try, scoot over, McMillan” you could hear on the other side of your steel home.

Few Helldivers in civilian clothes, helmets propped up on a bench in your armoury, capes hanging off the chairs, eyes crinkling with laughter.

Others who even in armour pulled as much of it off as they could without actually getting naked, pulling off gauntlets and gloves and helmets and heavy chest/back plates.

For one evening you weren’t mutts of the military. For one evening you all were people again.

Helldivers always in their armours and always covered from head to toe don’t get a lot of physical contact on daily basis, so to have a little gathering with others just like them was more than welcomed. You could see the invisible itch that scratched everyone here from inside — hands smacking shoulders too hard, wrestling and roughing each others up.

Go too long without proper socialising and you forget how it’s done.

But on here, in the armoured belly of your ship it didn’t matter. You were all Helldivers. A mutual understanding brought out of years of hardship, of loneliness.

So when little runts wiggle their way to tuck themselves to the side of divers that brought them no one’s going to say a thing.

Physical contact is so rare for your branch, you people make a habit of always biting off more than you can chew. Just to save it up for later, savour it until there’s nothing but memory of salt of someone’s skin on your tongue.

Until there’s only memory of memory of how it feels to have a palm on your back or nose pressed to your throat. Knowing that you won’t get it torn out.

You don’t even notice the 141 at first, because the moment you get somehow free there is a new diver literally scooping you up, grinning from ear to ear, squeezing you until ribs protest, until you hiss, kicking. Just to ease their hold and laugh in your shoulder, smacking your back with more force than necessary.

Smooching kisses on your cheeks and jaw, exchanging stories, reminiscing about the past.

You are a rowdy loud bunch. Too touchy and too powerful for your own good, a big pack of starved wolves that for one evening are getting it all.

Eating until you feel sick, kissing until you are lightheaded, wrestling and smacking each other until the body feels more of a bruise than anything really.

You whisk Kyle in time because god, he’s so pretty with his easy smiles and warm demeanour and your pack are starved wolves and they will lick his meat off the bone, they will suck the bone marrow out if he’s not careful.

They mean well, they don’t know he’s not one of them. They don’t know he doesn’t share the same bone deep hunger, the same madness crawling under the tips of his nails.

Still one of the younger charges gets a rough smack on his shoulder. The lad is fairly young but he’s drunk on happiness and hazy with good company, he doesn’t know his own strength — too used to being around monsters that your branch is.

The smack makes Gaz sway, his eyes sharpening as he snaps his head back at the cadet.

You tut your lips at him and practically drag the man to the rest of TaskForce.

You know that they don’t really get it. That it seems too much, too rough, too loud. Fraternising is frowned upon everywhere.

Everywhere but here.

Average lifespan of Helldivers in the field is less than half a minute. On your ship there are people who lived years in the field and came back.

Wrong and twisted and too rough around the edges, stripped of all the humanity until there was nothing but white of their bones to remind that they are people.

You are exactly the same.

So you rub Kyle’s shoulder, your grip is too hard, your hands are too heavy for him not used to being manhandled, urging him to get back to his team. Practically herding him back.

It might’ve not worked with anyone else, but surprisingly Gaz lets you do just that, his own hand carefully wrapping around your waist. He’s not sure how much is okay, he’s not sure what to do.

You stray from being too close to him, to any of them really. You maintain careful distance, you sit behind your walls, you don’t let anyone close.

Johnny watches an older Helldiver pad his way to you, breathing out something in your ear, rubbing his knuckles on the nape of your neck, fingers circling around the scruff of it and you, who twitches when any of them gets too close, fucking melt into touch.

Like that’s the only form you know how to take it in. Like you don’t remember there is any other way.

Simon’s head tilts to the side, eyes heavy when one too many divers smack you around for his comfort, but you don’t ask for help.

You laugh.

He’s not sure any of them heard you laughing before. For some reason the thought stings more than he expected because yes, you let them onto the ship and into the armoury and to your control panel.

But did you really let them in? Are they inside?

Because Price can see the way smaller divers — young, if he can judge by uniform so crisp it feels like they got it issued a few days ago — hug their cuteness aggression on you, yelping when you suddenly hoist some of them up in a bridal hold.

Giggling entirely too unserious when you show how you can pick two of them at once.

You herd Kyle back to his team and suddenly he understands why.

They aren’t meant to be here. They may be in, but they didn’t get the invitation to step behind your barricades. They didn’t earn it yet.

You don’t trust them to handle what you have.

So he nurses one god awful beer, Soap propping His chin on Kyle’s shoulder, relaxing when he sees two very much male Helldivers kicking the doors behind them shut — already dismantling each other’s armour, kissing with so much teeth it’s a miracle they aren’t bleeding yet.

“Wild bunch”, Simon comments, but there’s no edge to his voice, just quiet gruff realisation. Same one Gaz had when he watches one too many divers hug and smack and kiss and hold you.

When he watches you grin and double down on their advances, eyes shining and grin so wide it’s a miracle your face hasn’t cracked.

He tenses up only when one of the older Helldivers slides next to their team, swatting the younger charges away from him, cooing something in their ears when he sends them to the other side of the ship.

“I know what’cha think of us”, the man suddenly says and there’s no malice in his voice but something in his tone makes it clear that he knows. They aren’t meant to be here.

They are not Helldivers. It’s not their gathering.

“Pack of feral animals, eh?”, the diver continues, eyes so heavy it could bend the steel, edge of his mouth a little sharper than before. There’s exhaustion itched in every line of his face.

There’s hunger dripping off his molars when he grins down at shorter diver across the room.

“Think it’s your and your men’s business how you relax”, Price hums, eyes just as heavy when he tilts his head to the side.

He’s not sure he fully understands Helldivers as a brunch but he definitely understands them as soldiers. Seen the same starved mad look before in the eyes of men who were less human than he’d like.

“Half of this room will be dead in a few months”, the man suddenly says and John can feel blood flowing back, chill running down his spine as he turns his head to the diver. Man looks suddenly calm, almost peaceful as he announces it.

“We rarely get out, Captain. We lose way too many of ours down there, we lose even more up here”, Helldiver taps his temple, grin a little too feral, a little too pained. Like there’s glass digging in his gums with every word he says. “But we need something to remind that we are still here. Still human. Still alive”

There’s heavy silence in their corner, stark contrast to booms of laughter and playful wrestling and occasional sparrings with way too many stray touches.

“Little runts need to have someone to fall back on if me or captain of this bird suddenly find ourselves bleeding out in a shithole no one wants to go down to”, diver continues like it’s a completely normal thing and Soap tightens his arms around Kyle. “It’s a good thing we got out for some celebration. Don’t get too many of these in our line of work”

The man is heavy for entirely too long moment before he hums, eyes distant as he flicks his lighter on and off in long scarred fingers.

“Never thought I’d be one for religion, you know. But sometimes…sometimes I get why these angels fell, you know?”, he murmurs, watching the young divers play arcade, watching laughing divers smack each other one too many times before they finally allow themselves to hug it all out.

“Always an angel and never a god.”, the diver chuckles but there’s no amusement in it. “Wonder how they felt when they realised there’s nowhere higher to go. If they hurt just as badly. One too bitter of a thought it is on a night like this one”, the man shakes it off like a big dog would water and grins at Price.

Big and slightly feral, he smacks John’s shoulder too hard than necessary and jogs off, throwing over his shoulder.

“Welcome to the party, gents. Enjoy people watching, might not get another chance to see this many ‘live Helldivers”

[britcision]

Tbh I think the wildest thing about Trump is that he literally doesn’t understand soft power

And possibly cannot even perceive it

He’s going around bitching about trade deficits and defence spending…

But a trade deficit means that the country with the deficit is buying more of your stuff than you are buying of theirs

It’s a good thing for your market, especially if you want independence and to get money from people buying your stuff - it’s not people not paying for things, it’s people buying your products and you not buying theirs in return

You’re “trading” products for money. You still get the money. And you can do things like influence the market and sell shitty dvd players that break after a year so that people need to buy Even More dvd players from you, because they aren’t making their own and are used to buying yours

(Note: in this example, “you” are the party with a trade SURPLUS. That means someone else has a deficit in their trade with you

Being the person with the deficit is also not a bad thing, so long as you’re actively trading; it means rather than creating your own industries that may not do as well as another country’s for immutable reasons like being able to mine for specific minerals, you can buy a good product and skip all the construction costs and focus on the things you can do better

The general rule of trade is that if you keep trading, everyone wins)

But Trump is essentially saying that he wants to stop other countries from buying American goods; he wants our imports (us buying your stuff) to match our exports (you buying our stuff)

So

You get less money, because either you’re buying more of our stuff (our exports rise to match imports), or you can’t sell us anything (we lower imports to match exports)

And he wants to do this with tariffs, which mean it becomes more expensive for American retailers to import international goods - because they pay tariffs to the American government, and the exporter does not pay those

(So you can’t afford imports)

So the only way to do what he wants… is to stop buying American goods

This will do good things for the American economy I pinky swear 🙄

The defence spending thing is actually even worse, which is fucking wild to me

The main reason that America is a military world power is that you waste all that money on an army you’re not really using to anything but go around showing off and declaring how big your army is

Other countries spend less on defence because we’re spending on things like infrastructure and improving the well-fare of our citizens

So we don’t have a big strong army that can fight your army, because we don’t need one, but we do need things like food for children and healthcare

But Trump is demanding that everyone else make themselves a big strong army

Because the US being able to essentially run a protection racket and ever so casually say “oh gee Russia looks so big and strong. Let us put a military base in your country so we can keep you safe… oh, and I guess maybe some beneficial trade deals while we’re there 😉😉 keeping you safe 😉😉” is… America being exploited?

And listen, Trump doesn’t do subtle. He’d probably just blatantly say “do what we want or we will invade”, and start a war

But because he can’t do that, he seems convinced that there is no value in America spending more on defence, and insists that the very same people he is antagonizing and threatening the sovereignty of should be expanding their own military power

Frankly, they’d probably start spending a little more on defence anyway

Nothing he’s doing will increase American influence on the world stage, because he’s actively forcing the rest of the world to start acting like America has already left

“Stop buying our exports. Build your own army.”

And as a Canadian? I do think it’s about time we were a little less economically dependent on the US - because it gives them too much power

They’re our closest and most convenient trade partner, but not the only game in town

[tobyisave]

Character analysis: Why does Kokichi lie?

I think lying is more than just a means to an end for Kokichi, so this is my personal understanding of Kokichi's habitual lying, centered on the headcanon that he experiences his own emotions very weakly.

In a vain attempt to make this post more streamlined, I've isolated most textual examples into footnotes at the bottom; probably only read them if you don’t buy what I’m saying in the sentence prior. Lastly, if you disagree with something I say here and choose to make it known: probably read the footnotes first, and regardless please just be nice about it :')

"If I wanna become closer to Shuichi, I probably shouldn't lie so much... But that's my shtick... or more like, my way of life..." (Kokichi's inner thoughts from Salmon Team)

Small lies vs Big lies

To start this off, I need to clarify that there's (at least) two very different kinds of Kokichi lies. First are the “big” lies, like being the mastermind or lies about the nature of DICE. Big lies are consistent, told with a “straight face,” and well thought-out, because they usually serve some kind of strategic purpose [e.g. footnote 1]. But those aren't the kind of lies I'm aiming to explain here, because they're already well discussed and follow a pretty understandable logic.

I'm focusing on what I call "small" or compulsive lies: trivial claims & performed emotions that are usually not believed for long, either because they’re too outlandish or because he or someone else disproves them. For example, sobbing that he hates coffee and then asking for a cup of coffee; or telling the seance participants he's "actually super duper strong," despite knowing full well they're about to watch him struggle to carry the iron cage [more ex. in note 2]. Most of Kokichi's lies fall into this category imo, especially in low-stakes environments like Salmon Team and UTDP. Unlike big lies, "small" lies are somewhat unique to Kokichi, he tells/performs them constantly regardless of context, and they don’t serve a very clear purpose.

Masking

I think Kokichi got very good at performing emotions from a young age in order to mask the fact that he doesn't experience empathy or other emotions very strongly. And maybe that sounds like a very specific headcanon, but just stick with me here... [and/or see note 3 for one line of evidence]. Failing to emote convincingly would’ve not only made it difficult to exist in everyday society, but it probably would’ve put an even bigger target on his back as a criminal, too… So yeah, he learned.

But as it turns out, spending an (admittedly very short) lifetime pretending to have emotions you don’t actually have is a fantastic way to:

Start feeling detached from the people around you,

Start seeing everyone else as suckers for buying it, and

Very quickly lose any moral qualms about lying — after all, people would attack him from every direction if he was honest about his feelings towards them (or lack thereof), so how is it fair that they want to punish him for lying, too? There’s just no winning!

My interpretation boils down to this: Kokichi lies compulsively because he is deeply bored, and the kick he gets out of deceiving people is one of the only things he finds consistently rewarding about talking to them. Most social interactions already feel like lies to him because he is constantly forced to mask, so he might as well tell fun lies about being a supervillain instead of boring, easy lies about wanting to be friends with everyone.

(Continued under the cut)

Not all lies are strategic

I think it's easy to assume at first that the only reason to lie is for some sort of material influence: changing others' behavior or hiding undesirable truths, either for your own selfish gain or the greater good. Definitely, there is a purpose like that for most of Kokichi's "big" lies, and even some of his "small" ones (e.g. the kind of short-lived lies both he and Shuichi tell in order to advance the Class Trials). But even in retrospect, not every lie he tells can be explained with an external motivation like that, selfish OR unselfish.

I think telling "small" lies is more of a habit for Kokichi than a strategic choice, something he can't quit even when it becomes an actively bad strategy (hence "compulsive"). But if you’re already with me on this, feel free to just skip to the next section :P

A. Small lies aren't meant to be believed.

I don't think Kokichi tells lies in order to actually mislead people most of the time — because if he wanted people to believe his small lies, then he wouldn't be constantly retracting them. Many (or even most) of his small lies are soon followed up with “It’s a lie!”, either literally or by demonstrating/implying that it’s untrue [e.g. note 2 again]. [For some possible exceptions to this rule, see note 4].

Fig 1: Kokichi struggling not to give himself away after Monotarou believes his outlandish lie (V3 manga anthology). While I think this instance is a bit exaggerated, it nicely draws attention to the fact that he enjoys revealing his own lies.

By Kokichi's own doing, there is often a net 0 change in what people believe by the time they reach the end of a conversation with him. E.g. Kaede doesn't walk away from their FTE thinking Kokichi is her long-lost companion, Shuichi doesn't walk away from Salmon Team thinking Kokichi is obsessed with dumpster diving, etc. This suggests that Kokichi's not trying to change the perceived truth, he's just interested in the momentary act of tricking people.

B. Kokichi doesn’t tell small lies to alter his social standing, for better OR for worse.

I think the first half of this is self evident — I mean, if he was trying to gain status, he's doing a terrible job! He is aware of what behavior is required to make people like you and listen to you, and he is patently not doing that. 

You might then argue that he’s doing the opposite: intentionally bombing his reputation to build up to Ch.5 so that people would readily believe he’s the mastermind. While I do think his annoying lies ended up helping on that front, I don’t think his mastermind plan is the cause of this behavior, because...

Firstly, we still see him lie constantly in contexts where there's no clear advantage to being hated (UTDP, Salmon Team).

Secondly: Crying wolf is one of many great strategies to make people hate you... but it is a uniquely terrible strategy to make people believe you. If you were really going to create an evil mastermind persona out of thin air, "pretending to be a lying attention-seeker" is just not the most logical way to go about it; that would only make it harder for you to convince people that you're actually being serious when you do the big reveal that you're the mastermind [for a note on Junko, see 5]. That's why I don't think the compulsive liar thing is an act; instead the evil persona we see in game is just the result of leaning into traits people already disliked about him. The reason he tells so many meaningless small lies during the killing game is just that he already was, and is, a compulsive liar.

Again, there are some "big" lies, lies he doesn't go back on, that he tells in order to tank his reputation (e.g. "The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it"). But those big lies aren't enhanced at all by the fact that he walks around telling people the sky is green, you know? That might make people hate him, but it's not the wisest way to do so while still maintaining control over people.

Finally, regarding the argument that he tanks his credibility in order to mask his own emotions, see note [6].

So, with all that said... Why even tell these lies, if they don't give him more control over the situation, his classmates, or the truth?

Boredom

I believe Kokichi’s small lies are primarily driven by boredom. Yes, his complaints of boredom are probably meant to tie him to Junko (narratively) and justify enjoying the killing game. But I do think he’s also genuinely, chronically bored. Just because he doesn’t have vivid emotions doesn’t mean his brain isn’t expecting him to have vivid emotions, if that makes sense, so there’s just a constant lack of stimulus that leaves him restless.

On that note, I think it's difficult for him to maintain interest in everyday conversations. There's not usually a lot at stake for him, because he doesn't feel much about the people around him, and isn't interested in pretending that he does just so they can feel "connected" to a version of him that doesn't actually exist [but see 7].

It doesn't matter to him which path he takes when navigating everyday social interactions, so if he has to get through those interactions anyway, he's going to take the road less traveled. Pointing fingers, confessing to murder, and spontaneously bursting into tears… it’s not usually to accomplish anything in particular. It's more like doing backflips in an empty prison cell: equally as useless as rotting on the floor, but marginally more entertaining.

Fig 2: Kokichi consciously using lies to entertain himself. His dissatisfaction with the lie appears to be unrelated to whether or not it was believed; I suspect this is because the claim was so mundane that convincing Shuichi of it wouldn't have been very impressive in the first place.

But what's actually fun about lying?

I think this constant need for entertainment is what motivates a lot of Kokichi's social behaviors, not just lying. But he clearly has a special relationship with lies in particular. I think this is partially because of his perception of himself as "fake" (in the literal sense), but more importantly because lies are a versatile, challenging, and (relatively) harmless way to get reactions out of people.

Lying poses creative and intellectual challenges: Introducing lies basically doubles the amount of social calculations required to participate in conversation [elaboration in note 8].

Lying creates artificial stakes by reimagining ordinary conversations as competitions. By playing a game of "how many times can I fool this person in one sitting?" he creates an internal motivation to engage in conversation and perform social behaviors convincingly (at least, for short periods of time). External pressures like “being liked” aren’t usually enough to motivate that.

Lying allows him to emotionally occupy extreme scenarios without actually creating extreme scenarios. If he wants to raise tensions high enough that he can actually feel them, lying is one of the less destructive ways to do so, because it's entirely verbal (including body language, that is) and thus avoids material risk/harm. Now that's not to say it doesn't hurt people [e.g. note 9]. In fact, that's often the point; I wouldn't call him a sadist in the traditional sense, but there is something gratifying about triggering twinges of guilt and empathy in yourself if you don't normally have access to those feelings.

All this to say, Kokichi's habitual small lies aren't driven by a desire to create genuine misunderstandings, or to make people do what he wants [note 10]. I think what he actually seeks from social situations is little bursts of catharsis from witnessing other people’s emotions, and the feeling of control or "winning" that comes solely from being able to deceive them and get those reactions. 

Going "it's a lie!" right after is a really important part of this. It's a punchline, a tiny power trip, a kind of "Bingo!" he can use to declare victory. He doesn't necessarily want people to believe what he said, he just wants them to know that he totally got them and he'll do it again. Because what’s even the point of coming up with all these lies if people are just going to believe them and obliviously move on?

Lying as satire

Finally, and I’ll admit my thoughts on this aren’t quite as fleshed out, but I almost imagine Kokichi's lies as a form of satire, given that one of the few things he seems genuinely (?) passionate about is his right to lie. That is to say, it means something to him, in addition to being internally rewarding. He's had to present a false persona of himself from day one, after all — but now that he's a self-proclaimed bad guy, there's a lot less pressure to do it well. Performing those social behaviors in random, nonsensical patterns, and telling lies that feel just as true as the "honest conversation" he's learned to fake... it's like a form of indignant social button-mashing. It doesn't really matter if his performance conveys a coherent image of a person or not, because it was always arbitrary to him in the first place, you know?

….And I think I'm just going to stop myself there before this gets any longer. Tysm for reading!!!! <3

Disclaimer

…Actually that was a lie, let me get on my soapbox real quick. I think it's safe to say this essay hinges on Kokichi having some form of neurodivergence, however you want to label it. Personally I see him as having some antisocial traits, but I didn’t want to make that a silver bullet, and I thought it’d make more sense to just take the specific traits I see in him and work backwards from there. With that in mind, I want to make it abundantly clear that I don’t mean to assign any moral value to emotions. I can’t say this headcanon is entirely based on my own experiences, but there's a reason I connect with it, and I don't think anyone should be judged or labeled inhuman for emotions they do or do not have.

Moreover, while I explicitly take the stance that his emotions are morally neutral, I am explicitly NOT taking a stance on the morality of his behaviors. My intention here was just to explain them logically. Between you and me, just trust that I'm a Kokichi enjoyer and I did my best to consider things from his perspective.

Credits

Game screencaps from justonegamr and JakkHearts on Youtube. Manga screencap from Mangadex.

I also want to plug this analysis by @/g0nta-g0kuhara — I'm honestly not sure how much of my analysis aligns with/borrows from theirs, but it's definitely one of the posts that informs my current understanding of Kokichi, so it'd feel weird not to at least mention it. Consider giving it a read!

Footnotes

These were mostly off the top of my head, so if I got anything wrong, feel free to (again, nicely) point it out ^^;

 “Big lies serve a strategic purpose�� Big lies are also what I'd call the "normal" type of lies, just like Maki's Child Caregiver lie, or Komaeda's fake bomb threat — they're meant to be believed and to influence people's decisions. Examples of Kokichi's "big lies": those he tells in order to impersonate the Mastermind (e.g. claiming he loves the killing game); lies to Miu (being oblivious to her murder plot) and Gonta (believing the Killing Game Busters is a good idea) for his Ch.4 scheme, and debatably DICE lies to protect himself and his Ultimate title (though for these I also think he just gets a kick out of trying to juggle such a big lie for so long).

“Small lies” An example of an "emotional" small lie is the times he bursts out crying; he's not necessarily making false claims, but his actions communicate feelings he doesn't have, and most of the time he'll follow up by reverting to a bored expression thus implicitly confessing to the lie. His claim that he can’t taste food is also a pretty good example of a verbal lie: it’s random, difficult to believe, and he immediately follows it up by saying he likes sweet and spicy things. (That last part was definitely intended to imply he was lying, but whether or not he was lying about lying depends on your hc… I personally choose to believe that he has a weak sense of taste and relies on “interesting” textures like carbonation, because I think it parallels my take on his reduced emotions in a fun way.) +++ For further examples, the majority of Kokichi's Salmon Team events are just him spouting random bullshit and then immediately taking it back.

"One line of evidence for reduced empathy/emotions": His thought process often reads to me like someone with low empathy; and his ability to rapidly switch between extreme emotional performances and total flatness suggests that, in his natural form, his internal reactions are either dull or don’t automatically reflect on his face. For example, when Kokichi "gets real" during trials, his expression often goes blank and he comes off as overly blunt/pragmatic (“Everything you said is total BS… You didn't give two shits about Tenko when she was alive." "How do you expect to find the culprit when you're all worried about each other's feelings?" "Why do you guys hate lies so much? […] And some of them are only white lies, or lies to be kind to people…") They're delivered flatly (voice/sprites, and phrasing to a lesser extent) and express frustration with people's hypocrisy around social norms. To me these are moments when he gets so fed up with the social dance taking everyone in circles that he has to step out for a second and drop the mask, even knowing that his true self will make people see him as inhuman. (I probably shouldn’t have to clarify, but for the record I say all this as someone with low empathy myself.) +++++ALSO: I want to credit @/g0nta-g0kuhara's meta for pointing out that Kokichi's expression goes flat in (different) honest moments - linked in credits above - although I ultimately interpret this in a slightly different way for his character.

"Some exceptions to the 'it's a lie' rule": His own thoughts and feelings, which are often kept ambiguous. Lies he doesn't need to retract because they're obviously false ("I hate liars!" or "I was born from the big tree behind Hope's Peak Academy..."). Small *non-compulsive* lies that serve a strategic purpose, like perjury to further the trials (though you could argue these too are "obviously false" and basically retract themselves after a moment of critical thinking; e.g. claiming he killed Angie (ch3), or debatably telling Himiko she mentioned the brick handrail (ch4) because he intentionally casts doubt over the lie by telling it very badly). And of course, he doesn't go back on his "big" lies or the lies that serve to support them.

“Compulsive lying isn’t the best way to impersonate the mastermind”: Although I think his lying is very connected to his boredom, and his boredom connects him to Junko Enoshima, I want to point out that he is unaware of Junko. To the viewers of Danganronpa 53, his behavior absolutely looks like the behavior of a mastermind… but there’s no reason for Kokichi himself to think that “someone pathologically bored who constantly switches personas” is the most believable caricature of the mastermind. I think that’s a coincidence that was engineered by Tsumugi, and from Kokichi’s perspective it’s just part of his personality.

"Tanking his credibility to mask his emotions": As some have pointed out, being constantly dishonest does make it easier for Kokichi to dismiss his own moments of vulnerability and keep his thoughts/feelings ambiguous (e.g. gracefully backing out of his love confession to Shuichi during the love suite by pretending he was joking. The idea that it's a prank is only believable to Shuichi because he already knows Kokichi likes to pull his leg in other ways). I don't disagree with this interpretation of Kokichi's lies, in fact it's a really fascinating angle and part of what makes interpreting him so challenging. However... I still don't think that's the ONLY reason he walks around telling people the sky is green. Its usefulness is pretty limited to cases like the love suite, where he's trying to 'test the waters' and back out if the first approach fails. A superficially similar example is when he cries for Gonta's execution and then whirls around with whole "I don't want to, stupidhead!" bit — he's not actually testing the waters here, because he never intended to go forward with the story 'I'm really sad about Gonta and I regret doing that;' even if you think the tears were real, the plan was always to retract it. What actually saves face for him here is the fact that he's able to stop crying and go on a straight-faced villain monologue afterwards — and all that was *required* to make that believable was his acting skills (admittedly helped by his "evil" reputation, but not necessarily by his "liar" reputation). In other words, I'm inclined to think it would have worked even if he had presented as 'honest but mean-spirited' up until this point. It's the same way Tsumugi can convince us in Ch.6 that she's evil and her grief for previous victims was an act, despite never having presented herself as a liar until now; Kokichi is lying about being a heartless villain, while Tsumugi (ostensibly) is not, but they have the same effect in the moment because their ability to switch rapidly between 'good' and 'evil' personas proves *in itself* that they're good actors, and that one of those personas must be false, regardless of how their honesty was perceived beforehand.

"Kokichi lacks emotional stake in other people": This is simply a headcanon I am positing because I think it has interesting implications for his relationship with lies. Please don't be mistaken when I say that Kokichi doesn't care about the people around him (all of the English words for "caring" are frustratingly ambiguous, in my opinion). I don't think Kokichi experiences "care" as an emotion very often, no, but that doesn't mean he can't take interest in people, have opinions on them, or "care about" them through his actions. Now, whether or not he actually does that.... is not the topic of this essay either!

"An intellectual challenge": To lie, you have to continually generate a false narrative (rather than just regurgitating the truth), you have to track which routes you've left open based on what you've already said, and you have to assess whether or not they believe you (...which are all similar to calculations you'd already be used to doing if you don't have empathy). If you want to win, you have to do all of this on the fly and do it really, really well. And once people know you're a liar, it not only gets harder to convince them of your lies, it also gets harder to convince them of the truth; once lies are introduced, the pressure to perform well pervades every part of the conversation. Of course, this is way more fun with bigger lies (like DICE lies, in my opinion), but the little ones still take a modest amount of effort (an amount he can afford to expend on a daily basis) and yield a much more immediate reward.

"Lying still hurts people": e.g. Kokichi accuses Kaede of strong arming everyone during the Death Road of Despair, then accuses everyone else of attacking her the following morning. This one is a complicated example because it was such an obvious lie that I really have trouble believing that he wanted anyone else to buy it (I really think the point was to annoy people and raise social tensions), but even though the lie was quickly pointed out, it still actually made everyone gang up on Kaede, to the point she leaves to cry in her room afterwards.

“Lying isn’t to make people do what he wants”: Again, I'm just talking about his everyday compulsive lying here. While he does use DICE related lies to make people do what he wants (e.g. make Shuichi hang out with him), I consider those part of his "big schemes" rather than his habitual behavior, since his claims about DICE are consistent, well thought-out, and long term. Not to mention, the veracity of those claims isn't too important to me, since he's already very transparent about the fact that he's trying to threaten people into doing his bidding in these cases.

[suzukiblu]

Day six of February’s first weekly WIP behind the cut; “the puzzle trap sex-room”. content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he’s FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. and like, definitely internalized victim-blaming that said POV character is not actually recognizing as that. So uh, you know, just Kon’s … entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono��|| non-chrono ))

He’s never, ever felt good about the way Superman’s looked at him. 

“Right now I’m worried about you,” Superman says, because Superman thinks he’s useless, Superman thinks he’s stupid, Superman thinks he’s a fucking moron who needs worried about and can’t just take fucking care of himself like he hasn’t been taking care of himself for his entire fucking life! “Just–can you try to stop–” 

“Fuck you!” Superboy yells much louder at him, and maybe some shit falls off the ceiling and maybe the floor cracks out a little farther and a little worse, but he doesn’t give a fuck either way. He doesn’t care what Superman wants him to fucking stop, nobody cares when he wants them to stop or slow down or just even fucking wait, so–so why the fuck should he care when anyone wants him to?! 

Everyone wants him to. They want him to shut up, sit down, wait for shit–it’s never just easy, never even just simple, he always has to get better and better and better and no one likes what he just fucking is and–and– 

( “Mouthy bitch.” )

Superman doesn’t even listen when he talks. He knows–he knows he talks too much, he knows he talks about himself too much, but what the fuck else is he supposed to talk about? He doesn’t know anything but himself, and Superman–and Superman never– 

He talks about himself too much, but Superman never talks about himself at all.

He’s really–stupid, Superboy realizes. He is fucking stupid. He just–he just wanted–

He doesn’t even know what he fucking wanted. Just–he wanted Superman to think he maybe wasn’t so stupid. Maybe think something about him wasn’t–wasn’t just a shitty xerox made by shitty people, wasn’t . . . 

Superman doesn’t think anything about him, though, except apparently that he’s fucking useless. 

He tells Superman all sorts of shit every time he sees him, and Superman doesn’t even listen or bother to remember or really, like–really even say anything back, ever. Everything Superboy knows about him he got from Cadmus or the news or fucking heresay, not–not–not him. 

He’s so stupid, that he thought that’d ever change. 

He’s so stupid, and no one listens when he says to stop or slow down, they just yank his fucking hair or don’t let go of his arm or pin him down and–and–and they’re just fucking mean! Why’s everyone always so fucking mean about fucking everything?! 

Why’s everyone always so mean to him? 

He really, really tries, so–so why’s everyone–why’s everyone always–? 

( “Fine, whatever, just you’d better have a fuckin’ condom in your stupid Bat-belt.” )

“Superboy,” Superman says cautiously, lifting a placating hand up between them, and Superboy doesn’t even wanna hear that right now. “I just mean if you’re not careful right now, the cave might collapse.” 

The hand Superman’s holding up between them is bruised. 

And Superman really thinks he’s that stupid and useless and blind and reckless that he’d just accidentally cause a fucking cave-in in the middle of somebody else’s stupid base, even if that somebody’s a fucking asshole like fucking Batman. On top of that, cause a fucking cave-in with a pair of baseline humans in the place and not being fucking rockproof. 

Of course he fucking thinks that. 

“Can you calm down for me, please?” Superman asks in that bullshit quiet voice he only uses for people who are fucking actively traumatized, and Superboy really fucking hates him right now. He doesn’t wanna do anything for him. He doesn’t wanna do anything for anyone anymore. He’s so sick of fucking doing shit for people and nobody doing shit for him! 

Robin couldn’t even be nice to him when he was sucking his fucking dick for him, for fuck’s sake. 

Superboy wouldn’t even care about that shit if it hadn’t been everything he’d asked Robin not to do that he’d been so fucking mean about. 

( “The TTK’s only skintight, man, it doesn’t really cover the hair the same way, so could you maybe not yank it like–OW, fucker!” )

“Fuck you,” Superboy repeats, his voice all choked again in a way he hates almost as much as he hates fucking Superman right now. “I don’t wanna do shit for you, you wouldn’t even let go of my fucking arm. Just fuck off and lemme go home, I don’t give a fuck what you think anyway, especially not about who I fuckin’ date.” 

“It’s not dating if she’s taking advantage of you, Kid,” Superman says tightly, and Superboy hates him even fucking more. 

“She’s not, dammit!” he snarls. “She’s not like that! And even if she were, why would I even fucking care, at least she’s actually nice to me!” 

“Kid,” Superman says, looking pained. “That’s not–why would you even say that?” 

“Because she’s fucking NICE to me!” Superboy roars at him, clenching his fists again as his gut and chest both knot up painfully, and the floor cracks a lot worse. 

He still doesn’t give a fuck. 

“You keep saying that,” Batman observes, and Superboy bristles reflexively at hearing the sound of that bullshit “neutral” trap of a tone again and definitely, definitely hates him too. “What does ‘nice’ entail, exactly?” 

“None of your fucking business, asshole,” he bites off sharply, feeling hot with fury and sick with nausea and just so fucking–just so fucking angry. 

Tana doesn’t lie to him. She doesn’t treat him like a kid or try to shut him up every time he opens his mouth; she doesn’t want him to be just stupid muscle or an attack dog she can yank around by the choke chain. She wants him–she wants him to be better, so they can really be together. So he can stop fucking up so much all the time and–and just–she wants him to be better, and she tries to help him be better. 

Nobody else does that, when he fucks up. They just roll their eyes or say something shitty or write him off or treat him like an idiot or a kid or an idiot kid or–or just ignore him, and forget he even fucking exists when he's not right there in front of them. They don’t think about him when he’s not around. 

Tana does, though. Tana–Tana helps him. And she takes care of him. And she fucking likes him and she cares if he gets better or not and–and–

And she's nice to him. 

Tana thinks he can be better, when literally everybody else in the whole fucking world is just surprised whenever he doesn't fuck up too bad or break anything. 

Fuck, Robin thinks he’s broken, even. Thinks he should go to fucking therapy, for fuck’s sake. 

Robin couldn't even tell him he didn't wanna use a fucking condom.

Superboy really–he’d really wanted to use a fucking condom, or at least for Robin to not have thought he was stupid enough that he could just lie to him about not having one, or at least to have not been stupid enough that he’d actually believed him lying to him about not having one. 

( “Huh. You’re actually even more of a whore than I thought you were, Kid.” )

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

ramblings about the nonsense today that I didn’t think I have strong opinions on but am now feeling like spitting out to contextualize idk it’s under a cut for a reason

(In other words, nonsense about media and politics and discourse to reiterate that everything is a distraction and don’t let internet outrage get you down or pull your focus from what is really happening)

First of all, I resent being presented with any of this information about football and its participants in the first place MY LIFE WAS SO MUCH QUIETER BEFORE ARGH. (Kidding) (Well kinda not lol.)

OK here’s the deal: I frame my feelings in two ways, personal and contextual, and spoiler alert, they are directly opposed.

Personally, as an individual answering a singular question, I thought Travis gave a lousy answer. In a time where the US is openly descending into fascism, with the Despot in Chief hollowing the country out from the inside at breakneck speed, even a “respect the office of the presidency” type answer annoys me, especially coming from a privileged white man, even though I understand it in theory (if we weren’t living in fascist times). Do I think Travis voted for or even likes the man? Absolutely not. Do I think a “what a privilege to play in front of the president no matter who he is” type of answer is harmful in these times? Yes. Do I think there are other ways he could have side stepped the question without unfortunately sounding like he was placating a wannabe dictator? You betcha.

Guess what, I was also frustrated with (actually infuriated at) his answer about Butker last summer. Ultimately, his keep-the-peace answers to these issues reek of extreme white male privilege because of course, he’s not a person who’s ever going to be harmed by these policies. These answers are ignorant and speak to a larger dismissal of the severity of the meaning behind these words.

But here’s the thing: what I think doesn’t matter; what I feel has no impact on this person’s life nor does what they do on mine. They are free to say what they want, and nobody online, least of all me, has any right to infringe on that. Just because I personally don’t agree as an individual response doesn’t mean they aren’t free to feel the way they do or express themselves the way they do as long as it’s respectful.

NOW THAT THAT IS OUT OF THE WAY.

Contextually, his answer makes a lot of sense. And I’m not saying I like it or agree with it or am excusing it. Because I don’t, I wish he’d had a different response, one more measured. (Not the least reason being to avoid such discourse.) What I’m saying is that nothing exists in a vacuum, and that while nothing justifies the placating (and I’m not trying to… This isn’t my fight, they’re not my words), there are reasons around it that at least make it understandable for someone like him.

And that context is that the Despot in Chief always seeks to inflict maximum chaos, especially now. It’s in the fascist handbook. He’s trying to enrage and distract to pillage with impunity, while also being reminded of his own self-importance. He wants to do whatever the fuck he wants. And this stunt with going to the Super Bowl as a sitting president is part of that: he wants to lord his power around, he WANTS the attention of going to the game and having all eyes on him, he wants the chaos of the security measures that will need to be in place for him, and most importantly for the purposes of this tempest in a teapot, he wants people talking about him.

He wants people to come after him, so he can bully his way into “owning” them. He’s spoiling for a fight.

And unsurprisingly, the media is playing right into it, because, obviously.

The media doing these junkets during the Super Bowl ask outrageous questions of the players as a matter of course, trying to get a good sound bite for their stories. And obviously the Despot’s upcoming attendance plays right into that. Instead of seeing right through it, of course they’re going to use it to goad players into an answer. The only thing that will get more clicks than asking players in the Super Bowl what their quirky pregame superstition is or whether they’re allowed to have sex before a game or whatever is asking them what they think of the most controversial president in history watching them do it.

In other words, they’re fishing for a controversy for headlines.

And what they’re looking for specifically is one of two scenarios, largely: either players who bend the knee, or even better, ones who come out strong against the president. The first will flatter, the second will draw rage. Which will draw attention.

I’d wager that most of these organizations don’t want to draw that kind of attention in either direction, for the most part— even the ones whose values align with the Despot’s. Coasting in a relatively neutral/placating stance is the path of least resistance. It’s not necessarily the right (or righteous) one, to be clear, but it’s the one that allows everyone to mostly just get through the day.

Within the current climate, though, it’s even more loaded, because te Despot in Chief is also demonstrably keen to use his position and resources in office to go after people. The cruelty is always the point, and he is always looking for a new target. He also has a cult of armed followers who will demonstrably commit crimes, including undertaking violent acts, in his name.

And not to make everything about Taylor, but Taylor is undoubtedly on his hit list, and he’s looking for the first opportunity to set his sights on her. For instance, he used the White House’s official account to go after Selena Gomez last week after she posted a video about the plight of migrants. That is not nothing; that is a shot across the bow. That is a threat, even if it seems like internet nonsense. It’s the beginnings of political retaliation against private citizens for speaking out, let alone those who may actually be taking actions to fight. There will assuredly be more threats like this in the future.

So Taylor, the most famous woman in the world at the moment, a billionaire in her own right, a woman who moves world economies and whose words reach millions, is everything he hates in an opponent. And on top of that, she has made her opinion known that she hates him. It’s everything he can’t stand, and he’s just waiting for new fodder to use to go after her, the way he has Selena, the way he will countless others in the coming weeks and months.

So any answer that Travis would give indicating he was displeased with the president’s attendance would play right into that. And who knows, maybe Travis really doesn’t care that the president is there— maybe he is glad. I’d like to hope not, given his curt answer about the Kanye question which shows how he feels about someone else who has threatened Taylor, but you know, I’m not him, and I’m not here to analyze or defend him.

The other factor in all this is that Taylor has legitimate and increasingly serious security threats against her, both the ones we know about or can infer and I’m sure far more we will never know about. We got a glimpse into it in Vienna, and it’s been evident in so many ways since her endorsement of the Dem ticket in the fall. We know it’s a factor into why she hadn’t gone to away games all season. We can visibly see an increased security presence around her at public events which I’m sure is a fraction of that which we don’t see. There’s that bit by the analyst today who detailed the security measures around Taylor just to attend that baseball game in the fall. The implication is that there are also threats against her on a regular basis that are directly spurred on by the politics she’s chosen to share, which are opposed to those of the president’s and his followers who are primed to act. (Let’s also not forget that the Despot’s head crony also publicly threatened to impregnate her and the violent implications thereof.)

So bringing all of this together: you have Travis who is asked a leading question by media that is primed to play into the Despot’s attention-seeking behaviour because it also serves their stakeholders’ priorities. (E.g. more clicks/eyeballs on their content.) He is also probably been given a script by his organization’s PR team to avoid as much controversy as possible. And unlike anyone else on the podium, he has a partner at home who is in the crosshairs of the most powerful man in the country who is already under considerable pressure on a normal day, let alone in these trying times.

(Yes, she is incredibly privileged herself, I know this. But that doesn’t mean her safety isn’t threatened as a result of her position.)

I have no idea if the answer he gave is actually what he believes as an individual. Maybe he does truly not mind the Despot in Chief’s attendance and does think it’s an honour. (Again, I’d tend to doubt it, if not for political reasons then at least for how the president and his cronies have threatened his soon-to-be wife partner publicly, based on his reaction to others.) Or maybe he does truly just want to toe the party line and not rock the boat with his team. But I would wager that when it comes down to it, his priority is Taylor’s safety, and that like most people, he’d do whatever he could to keep his loved one safe to the extent of his abilities. And if that means pissing off an army of chronically online TwitterWarrior5697s in order to spare his family the wrath of a vindictive political figure with the weight of the highest office in the land and his own militia behind him, I would also bet he gives absolutely zero fucks.

I’m not saying this is some altruistic gesture or totally justifiable or likable. What I’m saying is that these situations are so charged and we’re in unprecedented times where there are going to be more and more situations where this kind of mental calculus is going to be involved in what opinions you can share. TwitterUser5697 can tell the president fuck off or say that the fucking hate that the president is coming to watch the Super Bowl. Hell, Player 78 from Team Sports Ball can maybe even say he’s embarrassed to play in front of the president and might get some backlash that will quickly be forgotten in the next news cycle once they win a trophy. Taylor Swift’s soon-to-be husband Boyfriend is in a different boat, because what he does ends up implicating her. He might never say her name in the conversation, but his firmly standing against the president means a greater risk to his family’s safety, and while some may believe that trade off is worth it or righteous, we’re ultimately not the ones in that position.

So the TL;DR is that this nothingburger of a quote is really like the confluence of celebrity, media and politics. A boneheaded answer on the surface actually speaks to a whole system in place around it that both drives it and twists it into a much deeper issue. And the reason why I wrote this long winded post about something I did not care about ten hours ago is because this kind of media and political literacy is going to be SO important, now more than ever, in the coming weeks and months and years, given everything that is happening in government, in media and online. People need to understand how social media platforms are going to be used to enrage and distract from the real issues at play, and learn how to parse what’s really happening.

The fascist handbook is to distract by throwing as much shit at the wall while they pillage. The Despot in Chief going to the Super Bowl is exactly part of that because it’s meant to draw a reaction. And he wants someone to fight him so her can fight back and prove he can “win”. (Look at the posturing over the tariffs with Canada and Mexico this weekend where he scored an “deal”… Which is exactly what was already in place.) And the media is playing right into it by asking players about him. So sure, roll your eyes at your fave’s fave’s conciliatory answer, but the real issue is what the Despot is doing to distract and pull attention in the media, and what that often is is finding another celebrity feud while he has his cronies do whatever the fuck they are with no one to stop them. Meanwhile, they’re also threatening private citizens with the weight of the White House accounts and will keep doing so as long as all the checks and balances of the democratic process are dismantled.

The personal is political, but the political is personal, and everyone needs to weigh these things for their own survival, including billionaire pop stars and their millionaire partners. Don’t let online discourse that will amount to nothing but noise in 48 hours distract you from what the people in positions of power of what you see are trying to hide from you. It’s all connected. I’m begging people to stop reading into an offhand comment by a football player and focus on the person who is driving the reaction in the first place, because that is where the real ire should be directed.

*also I know I’m joking about Taylor and Travis’ relationship status here but it’s actually vital to understand, because the seriousness of their relationship is exactly why they’re both at risk in these situations. And these people are going to use that relationship to get at both of them by poking them like this. Travis isn’t just a football player in the big game, he’s an individual man whose beloved life partner can be put under threat by his actions, even in one as innocuous as a sound bite for his big game. I absolutely don’t use the familial terms lightly actually. It’s a signifier of motivation and the things at stake in this calculus for the people involved if you catch my drift.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Hi there 🙏 thanks for answer me, you can take your time 😊 I am such a fan of some of your fanfics so I know you can write something for me.

I wasn't really feel comfortable with my body like the usually, so I would really love something about Benny comforting reader about her body issues, something like soft but also smutty.. all the smut you can bring to the table (I read your work so I trust you can do it 😂❤️) it can start softly and then go to the dirty smut... That's all I ask for 🙏.

Take your time of course I'll wait excited ☺️

I'm Really Into You - Part 3

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader "Poppy"

Word Count: 1900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Hi Nonnie! I'm so sorry to make you wait! I hope it's ok, but your ask reminded me of another ask I had received years ago that had 2 parts. So I made this a part 3! I'll have parts 1 and 2 linked below in case you haven't read them. Thank you so much for waiting!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

I’m Really Into You Part 1

I’m Really Into You Part 2

I hate our bi-annual meetings at work. They’re supposed to be “fun team morale building”, but all they do is make me feel like shit. Because, inevitably, someone is going to comment on my weight. “You’ve lost weight!” or “Oh, you look the same!”. I once had someone tell me I looked like I had gained weight. People tend to not have filters when you’re not a size 2. I hit Benny’s speed dial on my phone and he picks up after the second ring.

“Hey sweetheart! You on your way over?” I sigh. “Hey, you ok?”

He always seems to know. “Yeah.”

“Poppy?”

I pause a moment. “Just…people at work suck.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No…yes? I don’t know. Maybe I should just go to my place tonight and we can do dinner tomorrow.”

There’s a pause. “If that’s what you want, sure. But I really want you to come over. I miss you.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “You just saw me yesterday.”

He lets out an overly dramatic whine. “That was forever ago!”

I can’t help but chuckle, picturing his beautiful face and bright blue eyes with a dramatic pout on his lips. “Ok, ok. I’m coming.”

“Yeah you will.”

“Benny!”

“What? I’m psychic too! I can see your future!”

15 minutes later, I pull into his driveway. I glance in the mirror, patting down my hair a little before saying “Fuck it” and just grabbing my bag and walking to the front door. I barely raise my fist to knock before he opens the door, immediately cupping my face and kissing me. It takes me a second but finally I respond, leaning into his kiss as best I can with my bag in one hand and my travel cup in the other.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Benny pulls back just enough to look at me, his large hands still cupping my face. 

“Hi Benny.”

He drops my face and takes my bag, letting me enter and take off my shoes while he closes and locks the door. He hangs my bag on a hook and I follow him over to the couch, where he has a drink and some snacks already sitting out. I sit and look at the snacks, tears welling in my eyes.

“Hey hey! No, I didn’t get the chips you hate, I promise!”

I smile sadly, the tears starting to fall as I desperately try to choke them back, wiping at my face with my sleeve. “N-no, you’re perfect.”

He places his hand on my leg. “Then what is it? Was it work?” When I don���t answer, a flash of anger crosses his face. “Those fuckers.”

I let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, they mean well. I think? It’s just…nevermind.”

Benny squeezes my leg. “You can tell me anything, Poppy.”

I take a deep breath. I promised myself I would be open with Benny, especially after he bared himself to me, telling me all about his ptsd and his nightmares, his insecurities, all of it. 

“At these big team meetings we have twice a year, I see people I don’t normally see. There’s the usual small talk, but someone almost always talks about my weight. Whether I look like I’ve lost a few pounds, look the same, or even gained weight. Once I had lost about 10 pounds and someone asked if I had gained.” I bury my face in my hands, the tears flowing out. “I’m used to the comments but they still hurt,” my voice is muffled but he hears me. 

Gently, Benny grips my forearms, pulling them away from my face before he cups it, waiting for my eyes to find his. “Fuck them, Poppy. You’re gorgeous.”

That sad smile crosses my face again. “You have to say that since you’re my boyfriend. For some reason.” I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud, but I did. 

“What?” Benny said in disbelief.

“It’s just you’re so-” I gesture at him. “-hot. And I’m just-” I gesture at myself. “-me.”

“Poppy, I have thought you were gorgeous from the moment I laid eyes on you. I wanted all of you. Your curves, your tits, your ass, your eyes, you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I don’t know what I did to deserve you because I’ve definitely done some fucked up shit in my life.”

I open my mouth to reply, but he presses a finger to my lips. “Let me show you.” He replaces his finger with his lips, soft at first, his tongue gently pressing against my mouth. I part my lips and he slides his tongue in, dancing around with my own. He gently presses on my shoulders to get me to lie down on my back and I comply, his lips kissing down my jaw and sucking on a spot on my neck that has me gasping. His fingers deftly undo the buttons on my shirt and he flings it open, his lips starting a path down to my chest. 

“Ooo front open bra!” 

I can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm, the laugh catching in my throat as he pops open my bra and immediately starts lapping at my chest, tongue swirling around my nipples. He sucks one in his mouth and I groan, pressing my hips up against his, feeling how hard he is in his pants already. He pulls his head back and grabs a boob in each hand, kneading and squeezing them as he brushes his thumb over my peaked nipples.

“These are the best tits I’ve ever seen. And I get to put them in my mouth.” He resumes lapping at them, chuckling darkly when my hips buck up again, a quiet moan all I can manage in response. He pulls the top of my skirt down slightly and starts to move down to my stomach, and this is where I twitch. He knows it’s a sensitive area for me, always self-conscious. But he takes his time, kissing and licking and gripping me, bucking his own hips into the couch. 

“Fuck you are so hot. I love your curves.”

He bunches the edges of my skirt up in his fists, kissing my thighs as he does so. Then he looks up at me, a sparkle in his eyes as he winks, his head disappearing under my skirt. He presses my legs apart more and before I can say anything, he slides my underwear to the side and licks straight up me, my hips bucking into his face. He slides an arm across my lower belly, firmly keeping me in place as he laps at me, his tongue swirling around my clit as I gasp and moan, my hands twisting into the couch cushions as I could not grip his hair. 

“Oh fuck, Benny! There!” He found a spot that makes my leg twitch, massaging it with his tongue for a moment before he slides 2 fingers inside me, immediately curling them and finding that magical spot. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he speaks lowly against my cunt, his voice vibrating through me and I lose it, his name tumbling from my lips in praise as wave after wave of pleasure passes over me. I start to come down, but he doesn’t move, reaffirming his grip on my stomach.

“Not done with you yet,” he mumbles, diving back in, his tongue finding another spot that makes both of my legs twitch this time. I manage to prop myself up enough to look between my legs, his broad shoulders poking out from under my skirt where his head is fully lodged. When he licks against me again I come undone, hips twitching as I cry his name. I come down and he pulls his head out, hair all mussed up, his chin glistening with me, a big stupid smile on his face.

“I want you to think of me between your legs every time you wear this skirt.”

That rushes straight between my legs, despite the last several minutes. “Fuck yeah I will.”

He sits up and reaches over his back, pulling his shirt from himself. I lean up and start to undo his pants, Benny chuckling as he watches me. “Can’t wait, huh?” I shake my head as I pull down his zipper. He pushes my legs wider as I pull down his boxers and lay back, slapping his dick against my overstimulated pussy and I jolt. He grips my knees and pushes them a little more wider, notching himself at my entrance.

“Now I’m going to fuck your gorgeous self into this couch and you’re going to take it like my good girl, right?” I nod furiously. 

He slides himself in with one push of his hips and I cry out, his body laying over mine as he pounds into me, praise whispered in my ear between grunts. “You’re so fucking hot, Poppy…never been this turned on in my life…I swear it’s like I’m a teenager again…I just want to be inside you all day or between your legs…fuck your tits have good bounce!” 

I reach up and pinch my own nipples, eliciting a moan not only from me but from Benny too. “Fuck yeah, Poppy. You’re so hot - touch yourself. Show me how hot you are.”

I hesitate a moment, having never touched myself in front of him, or anyone, before. But I trust the man currently buried inside of me with my entire heart. So I lift two fingers to his mouth and slide them inside, Benny swirling his tongue around them with a groan before I pull them out and place them on my clit, teasing myself how I like. The difference is, I’ve never had a man pounding me senseless while I did this and oh fuck this is hot. Benny pushes himself up, his eyes watching where I’m touching myself.

“Just like you like, Poppy. Oh fuck, this is hot, I’m gonna…cum with me!” 

And I do. I cum yelling his name as he continues to press deeper into me, my fingers still dancing across my clit as my legs twitch, my pussy tightening around him as he spills into me, my name a chant on his own lips. He leans down, still inside me, as he presses a soft kiss to my lips. 

“Feel better, sweetheart?”

I’m smiling genuinely this time, my entire body warm and relaxed as I nod. “Feeling loved.”

Oh. Fuck. What did I just say?

My eyes fly open as I look at him. We had never said that out loud. But Benny’s smile is wider than mine. “That’s because I love you, Poppy.”

“Y-you do?”

He kisses me again, still soft. “I have for a while.”

“I love you too, Benny. So much.”

The kiss heats up and I feel him twitch inside me. “Let’s go to the bedroom. I want to spread you out and show you how much I love you.”

—----

General Taglist:

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@gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox 

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@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk 

[gears-twisting-and-turning]

Sorry, was really sleepy when writing that request. But did meant it when said you're doing really cool stuff!!

So, can please ask for current Bochum Electra (that silvery one. glows pretty) x reader, doing cuddles. Or just living. Anything like that. Like, how it works for them. Are Components ok with that. Should they (reader) be worried about getting zapped a little. :)

And thank you in advance!

You're totally okay! This made me definately understand it a lot better, thank you for explaining it further :]

Well I hope that you enjoy!

She/they/he for Electra

So one thing is absolutely the most important thing about dating Electra is that you’ll have to kiss ass

I don’t make the rules, I just tell you them

They have a huge ego and it must be fed. Especially by the person they care about the most

They’re also extremely childish, will stomp their feet if they don’t get what they want and more things like it. Like zapping the person or threatening to zap someone

Electra is the epitome of grace and yet they act like a spoiled brat most of the time

Luckily for you, by now you know exactly how to go around it. Gentle words spoken to them to let them calm down their explosive anger, making sure little things you have control over are in the way he likes it. Just subtle things you know to calm them down

She doesn’t fully take over the entire relationship with her needs, he’s just a bit more high maintenance than you might be used to and although it’s a bit exhausting, it’s more than worth being with them

The components are completely fine with you dating their boss. Just know that they’re a really tight knit family almost so just know you’ll see them come by a lot more than most ‘employees’ would (Electra cannot go without them let’s face it)

This also means that you’ll get at least a monthly check up with Wrench, that Killerwatt constantly has to protect you just as much as Electra because fans can be crazy and that you hang out with Volta and Joule a lot. Hope you like a mean boy and wild card girl next to you at almost all times

As for cuddling he will always be big spoon, unless he really really needs to be reassured which doesn’t happen a lot

You have to be a bit careful around him, because he might accidentally zap you during cuddling. I cannot explain why I think this, but it fits so do with this as you will

She loves loves loves playing with your hair when you’re in her arms. He just can’t keep their hands off of you in general while you’re laying against them

He might not be the most comfortable person to lay against, he certainly makes up for with by giving you scalp massages with his long ass nails

[maul-of-shame]

Why you think Adar x Galadriel is more popular ship than Elrondriel? They did not kiss and Adar is dead.

I actually like Adar as a character, and I have nothing against Galadriel/Adar shippers—I'm actually a shipper! I just haven’t really interacted much with that part of the fandom yet! But I don’t know if “more popular” should even be a factor in shipping. People ship what they ship, and as long as they’re not harassing others or pushing their preferences onto people who aren’t interested, they’re free to enjoy what they want.

Popularity doesn’t always equal better, or even more valid—it just means more people happen to resonate with a particular dynamic. And honestly, sometimes ships blow up for reasons completely unrelated to actual canon moments. Maybe it’s a certain aesthetic, a particular type of chemistry people gravitate toward, or just fan content that gains traction and draws more people in?

For me, what makes a ship compelling is the chemistry—the way two characters interact, the weight behind their lingering stares, the unsaid things crackling in the air between them. It’s about the contrast and complement in their personalities, the way they challenge and balance each other, the layers of understanding (or misunderstanding) that create tension, depth, and connection. That’s why I love Elrond/Galadriel so much—it’s not just the history they share, but the way they exist around each other, the push and pull of their dynamic. Their interactions have a richness that I can’t help but be drawn to. When it comes to Adar and Galadriel, I like the way they communicate, the way they complete each other and more.

At the end of the day, I think it’s healthier to just let people enjoy what they enjoy.

If Adar/Galadriel shippers are having fun in their corner and it's "popular", good for them! If Elrond/Galadriel shippers are vibing, also great! There’s space for all of it!

Fandom thrives on creativity and passion, and as long as that doesn’t turn into toxicity, everyone should be free to just have fun with their ships!!🤍🤍🤍

[literallyjusttoa]

Remember my sad quote posts? Yeah, it’s that again, but this time it’s quotes about Apollo and Meg’s relationship bc they care for each other so much and they’re mirrors of each other in so many ways and it makes me sob.

[compacflt]

I just wanted to say as someone who has stumbled across your blog and has read your Wednesday wips and posts about anything topgun related that your thought process and consideration of mav and ice, specifically their political beliefs and relationships with their own identities, is honestly so impressive and cool. You have brought such realism and life to these characters which is just so refreshing to see. idk i just wanted to express how cool and awesome i think that is

Because of the thought into these characters does it make it difficult to like them or understand them if you have differing opinions from them? for me personally i feel like if i were to ever actually have a convo with ice or mav regarding identity politics i would actually start to lose my mind (like how one feels when your dad or fun uncle talks for too long at thanksgiving dinner). If it does make them difficult to like, does that make it difficult for you to write them sometimes?

oh yeah! i think, my ice i really empathize with & really love & really could get along with, once he grows out of the sexism of his teens & twenties, but my maverick drives me crazy. someone sent in an ask a while ago that was like “WHY is cyclone simpson your one true love??” And it’s because i too would absolutely hate maverick & hate working with him lol. people who are overly cocky & un-self-aware & a bit self-centered make me CRAZY. (narrator voice: compacflt is a hypocrite as all these things also apply to compacflt.)

Politically… It’s difficult to say. no one really wants to hear the intricacies of one person’s political journey, which is why i won’t give you mine, but suffice to say—since the start of the russian invasion of Ukraine, and my semi-concerted effort to learn more about the political landscape of modern warfare, my own personal beliefs have shifted a whole bunch. definitely aided in that shift by my top gun fic project that specifically aims to understand the conservative straight-passing male mindset as it relates to military matters… there are many end goals to a project like mine, but one end product is a filter you can take away and hold up in front of your eyes and see the world through it. When writing from the eyes of a conservative straight (passing) white man, your priorities totally shift. I had to write from the perspective of someone who doesn’t care about identity politics. Because they don’t! A core tenet of conservatism is very proudly not caring about that stuff, and being very annoyed when people (usually left-of-centers) make that stuff very visible and want you to care about it! “Don’t shove it in my face,” etc., etc. Don’t force me to care about this taboo, private thing I really don’t care about. It violates my freedoms, or whatever, to be forced to care—or even bear witness to—stuff that i don’t care about. Etc. And then, to be nominally a part of that community that you really, really don’t care about, and then to be told that you have to care about it because of your publicity… people asking you to be proud of something that has had a negative connotation for much of your entire life… that’s not a transformation that happens easily.

Jesus, I could write an essay about this. I have, several times by now in responses to asks over my blog. But there is so much that I could talk about. I think… I really worry that some of my writing falls into the first of the below categories:

I really try not to romanticize conservatism in my writing—I tried to show that ice and mav’s happiness is the price they pay for their conservatism. They’re actively choosing to be unhappy—but because they prioritize their honor over everything, due to EXTERNAL PRESSURES they cannot control, and which I think are often ignored in the fandom space for one reason or another. The fact of the matter is, in 99% of IPs, characters prioritize something other than their sexualities. It’s never Maverick’s personal identity that is at stake in either Top Gun or Top Gun: Maverick, because he has built himself so impermeably masculine that there are no grounds upon which to question his personal identity. He just isn’t thinking about it. He’s thinking about how to get into Charlie’s pants, how to win the Top Gun trophy, how to uphold his promise to Goose, et cetera. If he’s fucking guys on the side, it’s because he wants to and because hes maverick and he does what he wants without thinking about it—that’s the whole point of his character, from a story-construction standpoint. That’s his archetype. He’s a renegade maverick superstar who is both thoughtlessly brilliant and thoughtlessly dangerous. He’s thoughtless. His priorities are to survive and to look cool doing it, and that’s it. He is a savant in the Naval Air Force, where honor is your lifeblood, who feels he has been dishonored by his own family name, and who willingly joined the conservative post-Vietnam Navy right when/after Ronald Reagan was elected President, and who wears cowboy boots and who disrespects women to their faces, and who is eager to get into altercations with Soviet-Chinese-DPRK-X-second-world-country-coded-but-EXPLICITLY-Soviet-manufactured-Mikoyan-Gurevich-MiG-28s(-F-5s-painted-black)… I’m sorry. In my opinion, the conservatism is baked into him as a character. I find it extremely difficult to separate him from his conservatism, because in some ways his patriotic conservatism is his raison d’etre. IMO if you take that away from him, he ceases to exist.

Same thing with Ice and his unwillingness to openly rebel or go against the grain. That is his whole reason to exist in the story at all. I know that I’m saying this in a fandom space where the whole point is to change characters & put them in different situations (fanfic) but… in kind of a perverse self aware way, as in I know I sound ridiculous and pretentious, i guess i don’t really understand an impulse to change the core tenets of a character irreparably in fanworks. We are shown that ice always goes by the books in TG. Then we are shown that he achieves the fruits of that labor (four stars) in TGM. So he is rewarded for never rebelling, whereas Maverick, who always rebels (but NEVER in a way that challenges his personal identity), has stagnated in the ranks at full-bird O-6. And that’s Ice’s character. That’s what he’s there for in the story—he’s a tool to show us the value system of rank and prestige you earn by following the rules of the Navy. Why take that away from him? That’s his priority! Canonically, that’s his priority and reason for existence! And historically the way to achieve that priority is through conservatism.

And you ask me if it’s hard to like my ice and mav. Yes, but that’s not my choice. The movie already did that for me. They are not, I’m sorry, likable people. I am not a straight white conservative male writing about straight white conservative men to validate my own beliefs—I’m a queer AFAB person of color writing about straight white conservative men because I want to understand the limits of their conservatism. What they do and do not care about, and what it takes to make them care. And from what we are shown in TG… ice and mav would not care about ME. At all. And they would not want to be forced to care about me. Ice’s casual careless dismissiveness… “the plaque for the alternates is down in the ladies’ room…” mav following Charlie into the bathroom… turning the key in the ignition and driving away while pretending not to hear her… “what?? i can’t hear you! 🙉” … they do not care. They have no desire to care.

Again. Maybe I subscribe to a very very old-school and labored and pretentious ideology when it comes to writing… I know a lot of people write just to have fun. I do not. I wish i could, but I don’t. And when you’re not writing to have fun, you don’t have to like the characters you’re writing about. They’re nothing more than tools at your disposal to get your point across more effectively. No, I don’t like them! Of course not! My ice is cruel and cowardly and careless and hypocritical and subservient and weak, and my mav is demanding and dangerous and dismissive and oblivious and so, so, so unbelievably bitter.

And that’s what my story needed, to get my point across. So, shrug. My point was my priority. I don’t care too much about the characters themselves.

Re: icemav & identity politics. Part of hopefully selling this story is the attempt at empathy for the conservative male, to bring this discussion back to the top. Why write fiction at all if you’re not going to write about people different from you, and why write about people different from you if you don’t want to understand them? So… part of trying to understand them was to understand and have empathy for this shift in priorities. Conservative guys do not want to care about labels, or sexual orientations, or, God forbid, discussion of their gender identities. I can kind of see Ice tolerating it by the end… but, there are limits. Again, it’s supposed to be private. I think he’d chafe against getting labeled gay—he wouldn’t want to be called the first gay compacflt, or SECNAV, etc. He can’t say, “i slept with like a hundred fifty women before I even MET the ONLY man ive ever slept with,” because that’s like intensely private personal information!! No one deserves that information, but people still want to call him gay, even though in his head he really is not!!!! Again—from the conservative perspective, it’s a public imposition of left-wing, overly sexualized, too-neat labels and politics onto an area of life that has typically been kept private and respectable—I don’t agree with the conservatism, but I can at least empathize with it. Pre-Maverick’s death (pre-coming to terms with it), it would’ve been shameful & embarrassing to him; but even after coming to terms with it, it’s still not something he “takes pride” in. I think he thinks of it like this—most people aren’t proud of being straight. Like, it’s weird if you are. Same thing with being proud of being white, etc. Why be excessively proud of things you have no control over? Why not take pride in your ACTIONS—for instance, his career that he has actively sacrificed so much of his pride for? I can really empathize with that thought. I don’t necessarily agree, but I get it, especially in his professional circumstances, where he has so much to be professionally proud of, and yet people keep wanting him to publicly care about this private part of him he has no control over and can’t change.

Maverick though. I think he’d be actively hostile about talking about it in public. He Does Not Care. he does not want to care. It’s all an insult. They call him the first openly gay Ace cause he’s married to another man— “okay, but, like, I’m not. Stop calling me that. Neither of us are. Oh my god we have slept with so many women. Stop calling us that.” Ok then what do you want us, the press corps, to call you? First openly bisexual Ace? “No that’s worse!! That’s a word some teenager made up and doesn’t mean anything!! I’m sixty years old stop asking me to talk about this stuff im too old.” What do you have to say to LGBT kids who want to go into the navy? “😎👍 there’s a place for you etc etc. Let’s go back to talking about all the planes I shot down.” Maverick does what he wants without thinking about it. That’s the core tenet of his character. Very conservative. Don’t ask him to care too much.

Idk. No I don’t like them. But I understand them, if that makes sense. Like their conservative anti-label logic does make emotional sense to me. So that’s part of what I took away from this project, for better or worse… probably worse: I understand why conservatives don’t like the modern over-publicity of sexuality. They don’t care and they don’t want to care. And because they are small-C conservative, my ice and mav still don’t care lol. So, yeah. It doesn’t make them hard to write, because thats why I wanted to write them in the first place.

[billdenbrough]

i’m not personally interested in any romantic combination of the kevin-thea-jean situation (but i do think thea makes the most sense in terms of canon endings with kevin) but i am so completely fascinated by the three of them as like. this is someone who lived through a hivemind with me. this is someone who understands what this life was. here is someone who knows ravens, knows the nest, knows the person i once was and will never fully shake. here is someone who was forged in that fire with me, even if beat with a different hammer, made into a different shape, held onto a different thing to get through. and now, here is someone i can’t look at directly, not always. or maybe i can, but i don’t recognise them completely anymore.

like. there is something so completely captivating about them as a trio of people making life after the ravens, after riko, after all their entirely different experiences of the same place, but the same core truths recognised by all of them. kevin was not at risk from riko (until he was), but he could see it in both of them. thea was not inner circle, but she understood the threat of riko and the master. jean did not have the same ability to walk out—to live long enough to graduate, to have someone to run to—but he knew them (individually and together), no matter the difference in all their circumstances.

they all made it. you know? thea clawed herself to the top in a team that made it twice as hard for her to be anything, and she made herself the best. kevin walked out in the wake of losing everything, and he’s the ultimate comeback kid of exy, the son who reclaimed his title no matter all the things done to destroy that dream. jean was told he was a thing before he was a person, and the one friend he had for free, no strings, walked into that nightmare and pulled him out. thea shows up when kevin says he’s never been skiing. jean can’t look at kevin, but he goes to the trojans in the end. and that’s the best gift kevin can give him: the team he loves, captain he admires, sunshine and ocean air and a thousand miles away from the court that tried to make jean into broken bones and blood in the shape of a backliner.

they made it! they made it. and i just. i don’t know. i just think it’s so fascinating to think about, all three of them, all the things they’ve seen and more that they haven’t, truths shared and truths hidden, and how at the end of it all, they might not be the same people they were back in the nest, but they’re never going to scrub those people from their skin. and maybe thea doesn’t want to, and maybe jean doesn’t know how to, and maybe kevin slips back into that person when he’s on the court and frustrated beyond belief. whatever. that’s part of the appeal. i want to look at all their sharp teeth, bared over each other’s necks and grazing it but not closed over it, and point at those sharp teeth. let me look. let me look

[anidealistatbestburntoutatworst]

some fluffy kunikidazai banter

Dazai: *leaning over kunikida’s laptop looking to bother him* ”how could anyone like a face like this”

Kunikida: *not looking up from his work*: “i said i liked it i didn’t say i wanted to kiss it”

Dazai: *leaning down further attempting to kiss kunikida’s forehead*

Kunikida: *sensing dazai’s movement and looking up*

Kunikida: *accidentally moving at the perfect time for the kiss to land on his lips instead pulls away blushing*

Dazai: “well it looks like fate had something else in mind”