#and it’s always the most blatantly contradictory thing ever
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i've never actually done this so this is kind of new haha. i might be doing this wrong? >.< your writing is really cool so im a bit nervous to send this. :'D would it be possible if i requested heizou with a reader who is a hopeless romantic but is really dense to signs of affection and flirting and stuff like that so they don't know heizou really likes them? preferably a male reader if that's alright. thank you and take care! <3
fandom: genshin impact
characters: heizou
reader type: hopeless romantic, dense!male reader
summary: heizou can piece together many mysteries, but your contradictory, adorable self, is not one of them.
genre: fluff
warnings: none i think.
notes: thank you for your compliment <3 lemme tell you my friend, I FEEL THIS REQUEST IN MY HEART! oh boy, i feel you, i get it!!! its me i'm the hopeless romantic dense dumbass who can't tell when someone's flirting with them! <': here you go, hopeless romantic, yet denser than a rock fellow <3
Heizou wonders how can a person be so smart, yet so astonishingly dumb at the same time?
He wonders this, sighing again, while he sees you excitedly discussing with one of your friends the plot of a romance light novel you've been reading.
You smile and blush so cutely, saying how these two HAVE to end up together because the male lead has been so blatantly obvious with his flirting and the other love interest just doesn't treat the main girl right-
And Heizou just slaps his face with endearing desperation towards you.
Simply put, you're Heizou's crush. You've been his crush for a very long time.
It is quite unfortunate, but you don't have Heizou's intuition or deduction skills to figure out his feelings for you...
But, really, dude? He's very obvious with his intentions! How can you not see it?
The world may never have an answer to that question...
You're the most hopeless romantic man he's ever met.
And also the densest man he's ever met.
Because one moment he'll hear you say all these things about soulmates and what the ideal relationship is for you or how you define what love in a romantic relationship is and all things of the like-
-And the next he'll be asking you out on a date to have dinner together and you're just smiling at him like "Sure, Heizou! I'm always happy to have dinner with my best friend!"
Or saying something like "Ah, you're feeling lonely? That's cute~ But don't feel lonely, I'm here for you, my friend!"
Heizou will stop at nothing to drill it into your thick skull that he likes you! Not as a friend, not as a buddy, definitely not as a bro!
He likes you like a husband likes his spouse- likes you in the "i want to hold your hand and hug you and kiss you in a not platonic way"- likes you romantically!!
...But you don't get it, so poor Heizou lol
You're annoying (/pos) and endearing, so he won't pressure you and will keep trying his best to make his feelings clear!
If somehow all his hints and flirting keep fling above your head (yes)
Expect to one day be at the receiving end of a kabedon coming from a blushing Heizou spelling it very slowly for you: "I like you a lot and want you to be my lover. And I am serious."
fallinfl0wers. 2022.
#melodywritings#melwritesgenshin#genshin impact headcanon#genshin scenarios#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact scenarios#genshin x y/n#genshin x you#genshin x male reader#heizou x reader#heizou x you#genshin heizou#heizou shikanoin x reader#heizou x male reader#heizou fluff#shikanoin heizou#shikanoin heizou x reader#male reader#x male reader#twilight-theatre
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holy shit sorry to say this in your inbox but i have to share this with someone because its so fucking funny. i was gonna make a post debunking some anti-bi lesbian carrds and i found a point that literally made me laugh out loud.
they were debunking some points and this was one of their answers was this:
"It's possible for lesbians to be in a healthy romantic or sexual relationship with men. “This is blatantly LESBOPHOBIC, as lesbians are often pressured to enter relationships with men (compulsory heterosexuality).”
there are tons of reasons why a lesbian might date a man. for example, having children, their partner being multigender or a non-binary people who looks like a man, their partner coming out as a trans man but they still feel some attraction to them, or even the fact that their partner is a closeted trans woman who refers to themselves as a man around family/people they aren’t out to. it’s genuinely fucking terrible that right as someone comes out as a lesbian they have to immediately break up with their boyfriend (according to exclusionists/gold star lesbians.)
i feel like these people demonize(if thats even the right word?) men. and that everyone who dates or likes a man is impure and sinful and dirty. or that when lesbians date men its automatically because they’re being forced to, or their forcing themselves to. like does that not sound like TERF rhetoric to you?
like theres bisexual people who spew this shit, but do they not realize their also being biphobic? not just to bi-lesbians, but to themselves.
thanks for listening to my rant, bye bye now! ^_^ i apologize if there are any mistakes.
- @sleepycorvidzz
NO BC YOU'RE SO RIGHT
They act like dating or wanting to be with a man is the worst thing in the world
Like you said, just bc they're a lesbian dating a man doesn't mean they're being forced to??
Gold star lesbians are even exclusionary to people who recently figured out they're lesbians and used to date / have sexual relationships with men
I don't know what's more stupid, the gold star lesbians or bi people who act like dating men is the most horrible thing ever
People who are against bi lesbians and lesboys (I swear it's always just bi lesbians and lesboys, they only care about "contradictory" lesbians, they never really mention bi gays or turigirls) always have the dumbest fucking argument points it's so funny
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Martial Master Asumi ch.20 thoughts
[National Treasure TWO!]
(Contents: Hinomaru Zumou parallels, Asumi analysis)
AND! THERE'S! THE! DROP!!!
My absolute favorite part of any given Jump manga, the point where the author says "this is where the fun begins!" Andy revealed his sealed personality of Victor, Medaka went War God Mode, and now Asumi's showing his bloodlust!!!
For those who haven't read Hinomaru Zumou, bloodlust (AKA killer instinct or the Carnage State depending on the translator) is a sort of state of mind where an athlete is able to read their opponent's movements and weak points instinctively, allowing them to target those weaknesses while minimizing the creation of their own. Showing one's bloodlust is usually the moment where the match takes a turn in one fighter's favor, and often can only be overturned by the opponent entering the same state
Just as we see here, bloodlust was depicted in Hinomaru Zumou with the same wisps emanating from the fighter's right eye. It's hard to say if it's an evolution in Kawada's art style or if it's to illustrate a difference between Hinomaru and Asumi, but the bloodlust in HZ was always more smokey, as if the fire inside the fighter was escaping from them, whereas here it looks more like ink spreading through water
Until we see more of it, I could really go either way on that, as it's only after sumo wrestlers gained control of their bloodlust that they would awaken their unique elements (fire in Hinomaru's case, light in Kuze's, etc.) and differentiate themselves from everyone else's, but Asumi clearly already has a water theme to contrast with Hinomaru's fire. I guess it'll really come down to how it looks for other characters within the context of MMA, as they may well explore completely different visual themes than anything we ever saw in HZ. Fingers crossed we finally get a snow-themed fighter like I always asked!
Enough gushing about a different series, though! Let's focus on what's happening here and now. Asumi's grandpa says that Asumi specializes in hiding parts of himself, disguising his intentions mid-fight so as not to give the opponent the advantage, and that's actually shown itself pretty well in both his character and previous fights
Most blatantly, Asumi's stance on violence runs completely contradictory to his actions; he says he hates hurting people, but he always seems so happy when he gets the chance to. Sure, he had a conscience during the fight with Sakura and deliberately avoided breaking his arm, but when he almost broke that other guy's in chapter 1 he really didn't seem to have any qualms with it. And now here, his bloodlust is awakening specifically when that conscience is gone and he can openly proclaim "this is fun"
His skill at hiding his true nature also was hinted at during the Sakura fight as well, with Sakura stating that he wasn't able to get to know Asumi from their battle. At the time, I thought this was meant to say that Sakura wasn't experienced enough with MMA to be able to read his opponent, but now I'm understanding that there was a disconnect between Asumi's expressed fighting style and his true personality. In a sense, he wasn't himself, and it seems like Sakura knew that on some level, even if he couldn't articulate it
I really hope that this moment gets some eyes on the series, cus this was easily one of the most exciting things I've seen in Jump in a while. Maybe Hinomaru fans will jump back in, maybe non-fans will be enticed by the sudden proactive shift in the lead, who knows, but it would be a damn shame if the skills Kawada honed over the five years he worked on Hinomaru weren't given the proper chance to shine here
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Mega Man X4 (Zero) Ending
(Insert funny ha-ha meme joke here)
Ok strap in ‘cause this is a long one.
Gameplay wise the only things of note are the General, who I am convinced was not fully designed for Zero since hitting him with a sword is pretty damn awkward, and Sigma who can either be easier or harder than he is with X: easier because Zero cand dish out more damage but also harder because Zero doesn’t have X’s armor uphgrade so he takes more damage, Sigma’s rock launching attack especially is the bane of my existance since it’s random and you basically have to pray he doesn’t spam it too often.
No it’s the story that’s going on that we gotta talk about
Of course there’s the whole deal with Colonel and Iris which is just amateurishly told: we don’t know who these people are, the game never spent any time trying to establish their relationship with Zero, and yet we’re supposed to care about their deaths, Iris especially who really has no personality and is the perfect poster girl for a female character specifically designed to die so that the hero can feel sad.
Also if you’re wondering what that orb that Iris uses is: it’s Colonel’s core. Colonel and Iris have a whole backstory that the game never even alludes to but rather just spares for secondary materials such as artbooks and dev interviews, which is impossibly frustrating from a storytelling perspective and a franchise-wide issue unfortunately (even Classic is guilty of this as I’ll get into later)
However the part I wanted to focus the most on was the flashback where we see Zero fighting Sigma
On its own merits the scene does what it sets out to do pretty well: it follows up on the idea that Zero was made by Wily which was previously teased by X2 and this game’s first Zero cutscene by showing us how unhinged he was in the past but without outright telling us he’s a Wily robot and while still making us wonder what happened to him to make him good eventually. The early X games mostly tried building up to some grand finale and really pushed for Zero’s mystery and his inevitable confrontation with X, so this scene is actually really good in pushing said mystery forward and also keeping fans off the edges of their seats for whenever said mystery gets properly adressed.
And therein lies the issue: it never was properly adressed.
Sure, X5 tries to follow up on all of this by giving us some....vague answers, which is fine, not everything should always be blatantly spelled out for the audience, I don’t need Wily to come flying into the scene with his UFO telling us that he was Zero’s creator all along since it’s made pretty clear already with all the imagery and allusions.
The issue is that no game has ever truly explained all of the questions that are brought up by this scene, which in another work of art would be ok to me, but the x series’ writing has never garnered any kind of....trust in me to believe that the series just didn’t know what it was fully doing with this, because some details about this scene have been revealed in the past.
In additional materials.
Of questionable canonicity.
Which gave us information that was sometimes contradictory with other things.
Ok let’s do this generally ok?
Question #1 Why is Zero acting like a crazed lunatic?
A few years ago a developer document was discovered, dating since before X1′s release, featuring a rough outline of the X series’ storyline, indicating that the devs at the time had at least a general idea of what they wanted to do.
The document mentions that Zero was created by Wily to be the most evil robot ever, but was accidentally turned good by the Maverick Virus (more on that later), which would normally turn good robots evil.
The Megaman Zero Official Complete Works also mentions this idea in one of its pages:
however said page specifically mentions that this information was only considered during the series’ conceptual period and as such may not be canon. I think we can safely assume that it isn’t, given that this page also claims that the Maverick virus originated from....X? Yeah no that’s explicitly contradicted by the games
Even the X1 document may not be 100% canon, seeing as plans can change over the years and it doesn’t mentions the Virus secondary function as a way to explicitly reprogram Zero into being Wily’s ideal robot as mentioned in X5.
In general I think the idea of Wily purposefully making Zero so violent he’s uncontrollable to be just plain dumb, especially since X5 shows us in its bad ending just what Wily wanted Zero to be like and it sure wasn’t the irrational lunatic we see in the X4 flashback
In 2010 a timeline of events was posted on the japanese official site for the Megaman Zero Collection. This timeline introduced the idea that Zero had a flaw in his programming which made him ultra violent, forcing Wily to seal him in his capsule, which was also chock full of Maverick Virus, the same virus that, as seen in X5, has the potential to rewrite Zero into being loyal to Wily.
Now this makes much more sense. I’m....not too keen on the implication that Zero wasn’t infected by the virus despite being exposed to it for 100+ years but only being infected once his armor was damaged since 1) damage received has never been shown to affect wether or not a robot is infected by the Virus, even in X5 Zero isn’t all that damaged when he gets fully infected in the bad ending, and 2) you’d think Wily would consider this tiny detail before stuffing his creation in a capsule with a Virus of his own creation. My own personal take is that Zero was already infected in the sense that the Virus was in his body but was simply not affecting him outside of the occasional headache (which is supported by canon, since X5 explicitly states that huge and very potent amounts of the virus are required to fully “fix” Zero, what kinda bug did Wily accidentally put into Zero’s brain Jesus Fuck), but by damaging his head (as in the flashback) this allowed the Virus to affect his damaged components thus only having a partial effect: curing him of his insanity but without restoring his memories of his creator nor his mission, thus resulting in the Zero we know and love.
The main issue with this timeline is that it was taken off of Capcom’s site years ago and thus this information is no longer officially available. Of course this doesn’t deny the fact that capcom once used it and claimed it as canon, but as of now this means that there is no longer any fully official explanation as to why Zero behaved like he does in that X4 flashback
Question #2 Why does Zero become a good guy?
All sources consistently point to the Maverick Virus affecting him, however the specifics vary: the idea that the Virus was meant to fix him was however essentially confirmed in X5.
Question #3 How does this relate to Sigma going Maverick?
This is something the games themselves have utterly failed to convey aside from a throwaway line in X8.
All secondary materials mention Sigma being infected by the Maverick Virus, however the specifics on how the infection occurred vary between official sources and widespread fan interpretations mostly born from the extremely vague way of the series at handling all of this stuff.
The official stance, as far as I’m aware, is that Sigma was infected by the virus as it was leaking from Zero’s capsule and was thus airborne inside the lab.
Many fans however spread this idea, which I don’t know where it originated, that the Virus passed from Zero to Sigma, changing hosts.
Ok so...
1) Why would the Virus do this? How could it sense that Sigma would be a better host since Zero was beating the shit out of him?
2) We never see the Virus simply change hosts under any circumstance. It’s a virus, it multiplies and spreads infecting multiple people, it’s not a single parasite jumping from host to host.
3) The idea that by leaving him for Sigma, Zero turned good implies that Zero was created as a good heroic robot and was thus given the Virus to be evil, which is stupid as it implies that Wily purposefully made a good robot for his world domination plans and then later developed an evil virus to fix his blatant oopsie. C’mon.
I know that this last bit was fan stuff but I wanted to adress it anyway
So basically the mystery setup by this scene has never been properly adressed by the games and information about it was only dripfed to us through secondary materials of questionable canonicity which sometimes even clash with each other
I love Zero for his character but his backstory is a giant mess, or at least has been told as one, this is one of the biggest writing screw ups in the franchise outside of X6′s existence.
This is a big reason why I want an X9: the chance that they might finally fix this mess
Y’know the whole Wily and Light backstory that MM11 showed us and which really added lots of layers to Wily’s character? The general gist of that backstory had been a thing in the series for DECADES, but had only been reserved for secondary, obscure materials. Would you have ever guessed, by playing all the other games, that Wily had a personal vendetta and inferiority complex towards Light? He never spoke to him on screen before MM11 sans a brief concersation to him and Megaman in MM10!
If MM11 could finally show us the backstory to the series’ main villain after 30 years, giving him some really interesting layers and finally making things between him and Light crystal clear to fans, then I don’t see why this couldn’t be done for Zero’s backstory and that of the Maverick Virus. This is important stuff, it’s the basis for the entire conflict of the X series!
Rant over. X4 (and the X series in general) is my go-to example for Story-Shit-but-Game-Good
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I think I'm just fully realizing, as I’m half-rewatching the show via YouTube reaction videos...we really weren't supposed to love Dean. And we really were not the target audience, and by we I mean a much larger segment of folks than you may think. Eric Kripke (and also Robert Singer) didn't want a bunch of queer OR mentally ill folks OR women OR people of color OR abuse survivors. Hell, he didn't even really want an audience of macho manly men!
Eric Kripke was aiming for an audience of Eric Kripkes--the kind of whiny pseudo-intellectual nerdbro who finds men like s1 Dean threatening in real life, thinks being rejected romantically by a woman is comparable to real hardship, views any unfamiliar form of intimacy with some base level of suspicion, and expresses disgust at other men’s promiscuity not because he has more “respect” for women (and don’t get me started on the puritanism of equating sex with disrespect automatically), but because he resents that he can't do the same.
Eric Kripkes hate men like Dean and envy them in equal measure. Dean is aspirational, a power fantasy, but he’s not the character Kripke actually identifies with. That's s1 Sam: the soft-spoken, smart, nerdy, sensitive guy who is special and whose niceness is rewarded by women improbably throwing themselves at him.
Dean’s hook-ups in the early seasons are almost all girls he blatantly, openly hits on or pursues in a way that, according to Nice Guy(TM) logic, would be creepy if he didn’t look the way he does (it’s still creepy, to be clear, only Nice Guys(TM) ever think it’s not). Whereas Sam’s hook-ups during these seasons almost always initiate things first, despite being in situations where hooking up with the 7-foot rando who just rolled into town would realistically be the furthest thing from their minds.
Dean is the Nice Guy(TM)’s power fantasy of being able to “get away with” whatever he wants by virtue of being hot (and assuming all women are just completely shallow), whereas Sam is the Nice Guy(TM) self-insert that, in fiction, actually “wins” girls by being comparatively respectful.
That’s why Dean is written the way he is in the early seasons, where he rides this weird line between being downright irredeemably sleazy and accidentally actually deconstructing toxic masculinity in his characterization. Kripke wants to be Dean but also resents the very existence of Deans (that is, the surface-level Dean, the Masculine Performance) in the world, and resents his own inability to inhabit that role.
They confuse him, and they make him feel insecure, but instead of bucking that whole worldview he fully buys into it via the way he makes fun of it. So Dean becomes this weird hodgepodge of highly performative toxic masculine traits interspersed with moments of genuine emotion that were probably intended to read as weakness. And it’s supposed to be over-the-top and vaguely ridiculous and ultimately, kind of pathetic.
But then he made the inspired mistake of casting Jensen fucking Ackles, the man who’s forgotten more about gender performativity than most of us will ever fucking know, in this highly gendered, highly contradictory role.
When you hand Jackles contradictions he just turns them into character complexity, so suddenly instead of watching a show about Regular Guy being sucked into his toxic family’s heinous world of monsters, you’re watching a show about Manly Guy desperately trying to hold his family together against impossible odds through increasingly self-destructive means while his facade of masculinity systematically crumbles around him.
And it’s fucking fascinating, so fascinating that every subsequent writer leans further into that, until that’s almost the entirety of the show. Hell, even Kripke leans into it somewhat, maybe subconsciously, fairly early on. Watch the back half of season 1: it’s extremely Dean-perspective heavy where the first half of the season was more evenly split. Still, the perspective remains more or less balanced in seasons 2 and 3, only to slant extremely far towards Dean in season 4 and never really course-correct after that.
In retrospect it should’ve been obvious that Ruby was playing Sam from the get-go, because the show simply does not invest much time or effort into getting you invested in her relationship with Sam. Certainly not as much time and effort as it expends on making you feel Dean’s worry and distrust, or in building up his parallel relationship with Castiel. And boy, once that relationship takes off, there’s really no more hope of this ever being the Sam show again.
The most it can hope for is to evenly split focus between the two brothers, although most of the time it doesn’t even manage that. By the time we get halfway through the show, it’s pretty solidly the story of Manly Guy having a constant gender and sexuality crisis trying to keep his increasingly queer found family together from within the confines of his glass closet, while the angel who pulled him out of Hell chips steadily away at the closet’s walls.
There are hardly any women in the story at that point that aren’t written as sisters or mothers to the main characters. There are precious few hook-ups for either brother anymore, either, pursuing and pursued alike. There’s no power fantasy to speak of, and no low-key competition between the brothers related to any of these things.
Instead you have Manly Guy embracing his homemaking skills while forming affectionate homosocial bonds with men who are more secure in their masculinity than he is, which he finds both freeing and comforting. And you have Regular Guy setting boundaries, going vegan, and bonding with the women in his life over surviving similar kinds of trauma.
They co-parent a child with their gay angel best friend who likes pop music and is Manly Guy’s most profound significant homosocial bond. Oh yeah, and they also hunt monsters and save the world sometimes, but mostly those plots exist as allegories for the things they’re working through, or catalysts for their continued character development.
Like no fucking wonder Kripke (and later, Singer) didn’t get the audience he was after. And also thank fucking god he didn’t.
#supernatural#dean winchester#dean studies#spn meta#spn gender studies#eric kripke#lizawords#this is the least coherent meta i have ever written#i was just watching sesskasays' reaction videos of season 1 of spn#and at some point toward the middle of the season it hit me that OH#we're not actually supposed to like dean that much#we're not supposed to find him interesting or funny or lovable#that's all coming from jackles it's really not in the writing at all#and the more i looked at it the more i could see it#and now i can't UNsee it#anyway this is VERY kripke-critical if you can't tell from the first two paragraphs#but let me be clear this absolutely also applies to robert singer and to a lesser extent andrew dabb as well
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I have many thoughts on the weird phenomena in the DC fandom and the Batfam fandom specifically where probably the majority of people just straight up. haven’t interacted with the source material. and almost all of those thoughts can be summarized as ‘lmao that’s weird and mildly concerning’.
and because I’m annoying I will list them all here right now <3
1. To preface this post, I mean, obviously, comics are inaccessible as all hell, both in the disability kind of way and the ‘you need to understand the concept of hypertime to fully comprehend the DC timeline’ kind of way. Because of this, even if you don’t have a disability that prevents you from reading comics, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to look at the amount of comics you need to read to have even a base understanding of a character and go ‘no thanks <3′ and just enjoy fanart and fanfic in a vacuum. Ultimately, this is fandom, this is supposed to be fun, it doesn’t really matter.
2. That said, it’s VERY weird to me that the majority of this fandom just straight up hasn’t interacted with the source material, and moreover, that it’s considered rude to tell people that they should do so. It’s especially weird considering the amount of fanon-only fans I’ve seen who straight up have a superiority complex over canon. The idea that it’s gatekeeping to tell fans of something to actually interact with canon is just. so weird, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what ‘gatekeeping’ actually entails.
3. But honestly I’m less interested in discussing the ways in which canon and fanon fans should interact with each other (personally, I think it would be helpful to create separate tags of some kind, but that’d require quite a big overhaul of the current fandom state) than in figuring out how this actually happened in the first place. On the one hand, it’s obvious; long-running superhero comics the way DC writes them have made themselves so thoroughly inaccessible that most people are simply too daunted to even try. Most media has a cohesive beginning and end (or at least, a planned end somewhere). Comics just... don’t.
But I do think it says something that, even among people who are clearly interested in the characters (since they have, you know, entire blogs about them), the effort to get into comics just seems to be too much to even bother. This really doesn’t bode well for the future of DC Comics. Obviously, I am no expert on anything at all ever, but I’d personally be surprised if DC survives beyond the few decades, at least in its current form/without a big overhaul.
4. But on the other hand, I don’t think the confusing state of DC Comics is the only thing to blame here. Fandom has a well-known problem with reducing any character down to archetypes to more easily ship and write fic/make content with. This problem is particularly prominent in fanfic, which, if you read enough of it, you’ll eventually start seeing not just the same tropes and trends, but essentially the same fics over and over again. And not just within the same fandom; everywhere, or every large fandom, at least.
Fanon Batfam is entirely built on a bunch of those tropes; insecure/depressed sadboy Tim, team mom with optional hidden trauma/emotional problems Dick, bad boy with a heart of gold + sadboy combo Jason, abused sadboy Damian/angry easily-villified-for-fic-reasons monster Damian, good dad Bruce for found family fic and bad dad Bruce for angst fic, etc. This all culminates in a found family dynamic that’s generic and malleable to whatever fic the writer wants to write.
(This isn’t getting into the ship fic, which I avoid like the plague because the vast majority of it is incest, but I’d bet real actual money that the tropes in those fics fall under what is often preferred by the Migratory Slash Fandom.)
By having a decent excuse not to get into canon (the inaccessibility of comics) and a, by now, well-established fanon fandom, many fans feel free to use the batfam fandom as essentially an excuse to write whatever fic with reduced archetypes and tropes they personally feel the itch to write, without having to bother with even consuming a canon. This is compounded by the fact that canon itself is often contradictory and frankly bad, meaning that whatever interpretation of a character you want/need to go for your fic is at least theoretically backed up by canon (for example, you can just as easily cast Bruce as an abusive shithole dad who his kids need to get away from as a loving father figure who cares deeply for his children), which you can always use as a defense if people question your characterization.
5. This focus on fandom trends and tropes over actual creativity or care for the characters is also visible in the way bigotry manifests in this fandom; namely, in literally the exact way you’d expect. The female characters and characters of colour are shuffled to the side, non-existent, vilified, and/or reduced to harmful stereotypes.
Barbara is probably the one I saw the most often in fanfic, but usually just as ‘Dick’s girlfriend’, and even then, she was often vilified for Dick angst (especially in fics about examining Dick’s trauma from his canon sexual assault; Kori also often gets the short end of the stick in those). After that, probably Stephanie, who fanon fans don’t really seem to know what to do with, so she’s basically just there as comic relief waffle girl, most of the time, though sometimes she can be used to either further Tim angst or further vilify Tim, whatever the fic calls for. Cass has gotten included more in batfam fics as of late, likely in response to critiques of fandom racism for leaving her out, but again, it’s clear people don’t actually know what to do with her. She’s often reduced to a racist stereotype of a quite, stoic therapist for whatever guy du jour needs it. That, or she’s in Hong Kong and just not there. Duke especially gets left in the dust in fandom, usually just being non-existent, but when he’s there, he’s almost always nothing more than the straight man for the actual fun characters to play off of. Talia probably has it the worst, though, and almost universally gets vilified by fanon stans in order to write sadboy Damian.
All of this is extremely predictable behaviour and falls entirely in line with general fandom misogyny and racism; ignoring or vilifying women and characters of colour, or using them as very minor characters at best. The only two characters of colour who aren’t regularly left out of fic are Dick and Damian, who are both also conveniently the two characters most often drawn and written in a whitewashed manner. In addition, there’s a real trend of demonizing Damian in fanon fics where he isn’t written as an abused sadboy, which I’d argue is in no small part due to fandom racism, considering Damian’s behaviour is in no way as bad as Jason’s, who doesn’t get anywhere close to the same demonization and gets woobiefied instead. I also find it convenient that Damian is probably the batboy who receives the most vilification in fic, when he’s the most obviously non-white of the batboys they’re willing to acknowledge.
Fandom often cries for more diversity in canon, only to ignore the diversity already there and focus on the same generic white guys. The batfam fandom is a brilliant example of this.
Which is not to say that fandom racism and misogyny isn’t present in the canon parts of the fandom (and canon itself); it absolutely 100% is. But I’ve found that canon fans are also more likely to like and care about at least one of the characters I’ve listed as ignored/vilified, and are willing to create and consume content for them, whereas fanon fans... aren’t, really. I’ve never seen a fan of fanon Cass the way I’ve seen fans of fanon Dick, for example. Obviously, this could just be by coincidence, or I’ve just surrounded myself with people like that, but it’s been a trend I noticed. Racism and misogyny is present in every part of this fandom and should be addressed as such, but I feel like it manifests the most blatantly in the fanon parts of this fandom.
(I’d also recommend the articles Migratory Slash Fandom’s Focus and Beige Blank Slates, which expand more on the type of fandom racism I think is especially prominent in the batfam fandom, as well as literally every article in the What Fandom Racism Looks Like series.)
6. All this leads me to conclude that the majority of fanon fans don’t actually like the characters all that much; they’re convenient excuses for them to participate in fandom. Which I also think is, in no small part, a reason why so many of them react so negatively to being told to pick up a comic; they came to this fandom specifically to consume it as a fandom, because they wanted the fandom experience without having to consume a canon.
This is not a phenomena unique to the batfam fandom (again, see the Migratory Slash Fandom), but it does fascinate me. While fandom is often said to be an experience focusing on transformative art, I think it’s also safe to say that, especially as fandom has become more mainstream, an increasing amount of people are looking to it less as a way to engage with their favourite pieces of media, and more as a type of media in and of itself. I think the reasons for this are similar to the reasons mass media entertainment like the MCU are so popular; you gain a lot of enjoyment out of it with very little risk involved.
By consuming the same fics of the same characters (or the same archetypes) over and over again, you are rarely at risk of being challenged or even disappointed. It’s often very clear right from the start whether or not a fic will appeal to you, and if it isn’t, it’s easy to just look for another one. It requires less emotional investment than most other types of media, even ‘popcorn media’ like the MCU - or, yes, DC Comics. It’s safe, it’s enjoyable, it’s comforting, like McDonalds, but just like McDonalds, it’s ultimately bland and unsubstantial.
7, TL;DR. Ultimately, I don’t think it’s like, wrong to enjoy the fanon version of the batfam without wanting to engage with canon, and I certainly don’t think it’s okay to harrass people over it. But I do think it’s in large part based on a desire to interact with fandom rather than other pieces of media because people are scared of being let down by those pieces of media (or worse, just uninterested in actually thinking), which is mildly concerning.
#long post#my posts#infodumping#btw i say this as someone who also has trouble consuming much more than popcorn media/fanfic due to emotional exhaustion#but it's not a healthy habit and it's something people can and should try to break out of#also obviously this isn't about EVERY fanon fan specifically so if this doesn't apply to you specifically great then move on
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Hey, I really enjoy your writing! You’re an amazing author, so I was wondering if you could write a hyuck fluff with some suggestive content where the reader’s parents go to a ball cause they rich and stuff and they see hyuck surprisingly because their parents are bff’s or something idk. But they like sneak into a room or wherever to make out really cutely though. Like they won’t stop giggling. I just think it’s a really cute concept. Thanks btw, It’s okay if you can’t do it. Love ya!😘
warning: mature content, fem!reader
[loser] 7:35PM, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in time :/
[you] 7:35PM, you’re going to abandon me?!
[loser] 7:36PM, anything not to see your face irl ;)
that was the last you had heard of donghyuck since the ball had started
unconsciously, you let out a deep sigh; he was so annoying.
“everything alright?” you blink once, refocusing your gaze on the pair of eyes staring into yours
oh.
you forgot he was talking to you.
“yes. sorry.” you say with a polite smile, “please, continue.”
the boy, whom your mother had forced your conversation upon, simply brushes off your distracted demeanor with a smile and continues talking
but it was getting increasingly harder to try and be nice
unnecessary, extravagant social gatherings like this were always such a bore without your best-friend, especially when your parents never fail to rush at the opportunity to introduce you to new (rich) boys whenever he wasn’t around
for a moment, you bring your attention back and nod at whatever the pretty boy was saying; only the movement of his lips and pretty eyebrows were keeping you somewhat entertained
but you just couldn’t help but hear everything else that came out of his mouth as simply noise—no offence, but you’d rather much listen to the dumb smack-talk of lee donghyuck than the empty compliments he was feeding you.
out of courtesy, you politely laugh when he laughs, then carefully bring your hand up to brush your hair behind your ear
boldly enough, his hand comes up to follow yours, almost brushing against your fingers as he charmingly leans forward to take a better look at your face
but before he could make another move, a familiar hand slips into his palm
lee donghyuck graciously shakes his hand and fakes a smile, “you are?”
“I-” the boy takes a quick bewildered glance at you, then looks back at donghyuck, “xiaojun.” his sharp brows furrow in surprise but nevertheless he shakes your best-friends hand
“and you?” xiaojun courteously stitches on a handsome smile
you hold back a tiny yelp when your best-friend swiftly slips an arm around your waist and presses you into his side
“hers.”
then he’s whisking you away onto the dance floor.
“hyuck!” you giggle into the back of your hand as he keeps you stable at the dip of your back
he stops abruptly, one hand on your waist and the other elegantly holding up your other: perfectly set to slow dance
“yes?” he says ever so simply with a raise of his brow and a slight smirk as he starts to lead your steps in time with the music
“you’re unbelievable.” you can only breathe, “you said you weren’t going to come.”
donghyuck flashes you a charming smile, “better late than never.”
your smile only widens at his playfulness and he annoyingly winks so charmingly in response
you drop the hand you had resting over his shoulder to brush down the lapel of his suit
“you look good.” you hum as your gaze falls across the rest of his outfit
donghyuck doesn’t hide his smug smile
“fashionably late?”
you roll your eyes and he winces exaggeratedly when you hit his chest. “don’t let it get to your fat head, stupid.”
donghyuck laughs along with you, that charming smile of his warming you from the inside out
“you look good too.” his eyes trail across the bare skin of your shoulders and heat rushes to your cheeks
“you're ..sleeveless.” he blatantly points out, fingers coming up to pinch at the strap of your slip dress resting on the end of your collarbone
you bite your lip, “can’t exactly wear hoodies to a ball, can I?” you try to catch his gaze but his eyes were too busy admiring the rare sight of your exposed shoulders
the way he was staring at you felt like you were wearing even less
donghyuck bites back a smile and finally pulls his gaze off your skin, “not that it’s a bad thing.”
“I,” you blink away flustered, “I know.” you knew what he meant.
he laughs; you’re adorable when you blush
“I like it.” he provokes you even further
suddenly, his thumb pushes aside the strap of your dress by a margin and his head quickly dips down to press his lips against your skin
a heat rush of tingles bursts at the contact but before you can even push him back, he’s already back where he was, smiling at you
“hyuck!” you stare wide-eyed at him in shock, “what are you doing?” you hiss, suddenly feeling the need to talk at an even lower volume
your eyes dart across the crowds of people surrounding the dance floor to double-check that no one had seen what he had just done
“relax,” you give him a look and he pulls you in closer, “no one saw.” he raises his brow in the direction behind you and you follow his line of sight to see your mother too busy catering to other guests.
when you turn back donghyuck is leaning so close your nose bumps into his
he blinks down to look at your lips and you gulp, your heart hammering in your chest when he tilts his head ever so slightly as he moves in
but instead, he stops and whispers, “wanna get out of here?”
donghyuck doesn’t have to hear you twice, because he’s already swiftly pulled your off the dance floor and through the back doors into a dimly lit, grand hallway
he pulls you by your hand, quickly skimming past doors and doors, you’re heart skipping beats just as quick
“where are we-”
donghyuck halts and you almost slam into his back
“someone’s here.” he says under his breath
a second before you both get caught, you’re pulled around a corner and up against donghyucks chest
his back presses into the wall behind him as his arms wrap around your waist to squeeze you even closer against his body, then he cranes his neck to bring his ear closer in range
it gives you the chance to let your eyes wonder across the moles perfectly stamped across the canvas of his skin
you want to kiss them all
when donghyuck turns back, he releases the tension in his shoulders, catching completely you red-handed
hands on his chest, you try to pry at least the slightest bit away from him in embarrassment knowing that he knew exactly what you were thinking
“soon.” he assures you; his voice low as he presses a kiss into your cheek, then to your jaw
his kisses were delicate, gentle, soft against your skin; yet so effortlessly stirred something deep within you
your hands fist at his clothes and you feel donghyucks lips smile into your neck
“can’t wait?” this time he kisses open-mouthed, “but they’ll catch us.”
you cut back a whine when he runs the heat of his tongue against your throat
the sound that comes from the back of your throat makes donghyuck stop; his nose still buried under your jaw and lips brushing against your skin
then he’s laughing into your neck, pulling you tighter into his arms
“your-” he stifles his laughter
“hyuck, stop” you’re even more embarrassed now
his forehead falls on your shoulder, pressing a kiss where his lips can reach before laughing a little more as you try to hold back your own
“quit laughing at me,” you punch at the end of his shoulder, but it only makes him laugh more, “we’ll get caught, stupid”
“sorry,” he kisses your collarbone before pulling back to finally smile at you, “you’re just so,” he pauses to look at you, then playfully snaps his teeth at your nose
“okay,” you bring your hand up to his neck, fingers at the nape of his neck and thumb at his earlobe, “that’s enough.”
donghyuck breathes out a laugh, his head leaning into your hand
he turns his face, eyes closed, to press his lips lovingly into your palm and after a long second of bathing in your warmth he opens his eyes to see your expression
your warm gaze makes him smile
then it happens so quick; when the light from the guards torch flashes your way and donghyuck pulls you through the nearest door.
he shuts you up with his lips
contradictory, it makes you moan.
so he presses into you harder as if melting his lips hot against yours and pulling you impossibly closer into his body was going to make you say any less
but clearly, your voice deemed accidentally louder than you thought because a flash of light pans from the crack under the door and you push donghyucks chest with the flat of your hand to keep his addicting lips away from yours
“wait-”
but his plump lips crash into your neck and your hand flies to his shoulder, fingers gripping at his clothes as you try to fight the groans in the back of your throat
but donghyuck doesn’t stop.
it’s painfully automatic when you crane your neck up to the ceiling
and incredibly annoying to feel him smile against your skin (yet again) like it was all a game
more doubtlessly, he sinks his teeth into your throat making you yelp into the palm of your hand
for a second, he stops — only to laugh into your skin
so you slap his shoulder mouthing insults at him as you watch him pull back with a smile
then makes it obvious when he takes a generous look at your flushed face and bruising neck
it’s so embarrassing. but you grin stupid as he mouths back a bunch of weak “okay”s as he kisses you brief between each one
the last one lingering a little too long, everything about the sweet sweet soft of his mouth and the passion even in the most delicate of his touch making every thing around you slip from your mind.
again; you carelessly let out the most innocent moan into his throat. albeit a half of a moan before you could pull yourself out of the endless, sinking abyss that was lee donghyuck’s kiss
he’s grinning at you when you open your eyes
almost like he’s about to laugh from how much he can so easily pull cute sounds out of your pretty mouth
you want to laugh all the same — god it’s embarrassingly funny the way you can’t even hold anything in
suddenly, there’s a struggle behind the locked door your pressed up against immediately reminding you where you were again
and donghyuck has the nerve to brazenly tilt his head at you, a smug raise of his brow and a daring glint in his eyes as the door handle jerks up and down from the other side
“don’t.” you mouth, pulling a face at him as if you were so exhausted from holding everything in
it makes him roll his head back with noiseless laughter, swiping a knuckle under the tip of his nose before jokingly smiling at you with pity
he blinks a nod, then pulls his chin back again as if telling you to come closer
but you scrunch your brows at the thought of falling into his trap again, so he pats chest and shakes his head no (despite the small smile across his lips)
so when you step into his warmth he guides you into him; one hand affectionately holding the back of your neck, the other wrapped around your waist until you’re enveloped completely in him
his cheek presses into the top of your head and you feel the deep vibration in his throat when he says “yeah, like that.”
so you stay ‘like that’, eyes closed and flushed against the heat of his touch, until the struggle of the door handle gives up
“finally.” you hear him whisper
you hum into his chest in agreement
“now I can really make you moan.”
end.
(hi @sofhyuck)
#lee donghyuck#lee haechan#haechan fic#lee haechan scenarios#haechan scenarios#haechan imagines#donghyuck scenarios#haechan fluff#haechan smut#donghyuck fluff#donghyuck smut#haechan x reader#lee haechan fanfic#donghyuck imagines#nct imagines#nct scenarios#hey guys.... sorry its been so long ;/#but here it is!#a penny for your thoughts?
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A Few Thoughts About the Current Run
I feel like I ought to say a few things about my feelings on Zdarsky’s run, as of right now (August 2020, pre-Annual-- that may be important). I haven’t said much about this run, and I should admit that I actually stopped reading it for a while. At a certain point, I realized I was dreading the release of each preview, and took that as a sign that maybe I should take a break and just re-read some back issues instead. This is, above all, supposed to be fun; I never, ever want reading DD to feel like a chore.
That said, I am now caught up and feel ready to begin untangling exactly why this run is so distasteful to me. I’ve been fortunate to have other DD fans to chat with about this, which has helped me to pinpoint what my problems are... because on paper, this run seems like something I’d enjoy. Matt accidentally kills a guy; that’s always fun. Marco Checchetto is great. The story explores Daredevil’s relationship with the citizens of Hell’s Kitchen, which I love. Foggy helps Matt with an action-y Daredevil thing; that’s awesome. There are some very cool fights. Elektra is in it. Stilt-Man is (briefly) in it. It has all the trappings of an interesting narrative. But there is a giant hole in the middle of this run, and that hole is Matt Murdock-shaped and impossible to ignore.
I read Daredevil comics for a lot of things (anyone who’s been following me for the past few years might think I read Daredevil comics for Mike Murdock, and you may have a point there) but first and foremost, I read them for Matt. There is a lot that makes a good DD story great-- historically, the comic has featured great supporting casts, and that’s another problem with this run that I’ll get back to in a minute-- but Matt is always the anchor. One of the greatest strengths in Daredevil comes from the fact that the protagonist is such a compelling character. You are interested in what he’s doing. You want to follow his story. You enjoy being inside his head. I’m not saying that you can’t write a good Matt-free Daredevil story-- you definitely can. But if Matt is present and written poorly, the whole story will collapse around him, and that’s been my experience with Zdarsky’s run. Part of the reason I’ve taken so long to write this post is because I’ve been trying to figure out if my complaint comes from my own personal taste-- which is not a basis on which I can critique this comic-- or whether the problem is inherent in the work itself. Having discussed it with other people, I feel comfortable saying that I think the problem is in the writing.
Zdarsky’s Matt feels profoundly unfamiliar to me, and that in itself isn’t necessarily a problem, but I don’t find this new version of my favorite superhero interesting. I actually find him a little repellant. If this run had been my introduction to Daredevil, I would’ve said “Nope” and read something else. Matt is a character with depth. He is intensely multifaceted. His relationship to superheroing is complicated, his views on justice and morality are rich and often contradictory. Zdarsky somehow missed all of that and has crafted a one-dimensional character with a blatantly black-and-white sense of morality. Matt’s reaction to accidentally killing someone seems to be to decide that all superheroes are bad-- something I complained about at the beginning of the run and which, unfortunately, only grew more annoying as the story progressed. Zdarsky’s Matt is painfully self-righteous, to a degree that makes him extremely unlikeable (at least to me). And yes, Matt has been written as unlikeable before. I actually love when Matt behaves badly; I find that fascinating from a narrative perspective. But I’ve realized that the key reason that has been effective in the past is because the story has never condoned that behavior. When Matt was emotionally abusive toward Heather Glenn, Frank Miller went out of his way to show us-- via the side characters, via blatant expressions of Heather’s pain-- that Matt was in the wrong. When Matt was a jerk in Bendis’ and Brubaker’s runs, when he drove his friends away, when he acted irrationally and harmfully, the narrative commented on that jerkiness and irrationality.
But Zdarsky does not do that in his run. He presents Matt’s irrational and jerkish behavior without comment or nuance, as if it’s a perfectly normal, reasonable way for Matt to act under the circumstances, and I have been surprised to realize how distasteful I find that, and how bad it makes Matt look. There’s a difference between having a character who is comfortably flawed-- whose behavior you’re supposed to occasionally question-- and a character who is just unpleasant and unlikeable, seemingly by accident. In the most recent issue (#21), Matt has an extremely upsetting interaction with Spider-Man, one of his oldest friends, and Matt is positioned as heroic for behaving this way, and it made me feel a little ill, because there’s no textual examination or questioning of this behavior. It’s just Matt, pushing people away, being Angsty(TM) and Gritty(TM) and lone wolf-y just because, in a way that is grating and unpleasant and completely lacks nuance.
The other major element of Zdarsky’s characterization of Matt is religion. I’ve mentioned before (as have other DD fans before me) that Matt is not generally written as religious, and it’s a strange phenomenon that this characterization has appeared in multiple adaptations (the movie and the Netflix show) while having very little actual presence in the source material. But it was a key theme in the Netflix show, and while hopefully that influence will disappear from the comics as more time passes, we are still in a honeymoon phase wherein MCU elements are still popping up in the 616 universe. It’s clear that Zdarsky really liked the show, and Soule as well; I’m certainly not letting Soule off the hook here, because the idea of Matt being devoutly Christian showed up his run first. But there, you could get away from it if it wasn’t your thing (which, for me, it’s not). Soule had whole story arcs that didn’t mention it. But Zdarsky has made it 75% of Matt’s personality. When he isn’t fighting or sleeping with someone in this run, Matt is angsting about God.
I hesitate to complain about this because it’s Zdarsky’s right as a DD writer to change the protagonist however he likes. It’s frustrating, yes, but not actually a sign of bad writing per se. Plus, not everyone is me. Many people-- probably including many people who were fans of the Netflix show and are entering the comics via that connection (which seems to be the target audience for this run)-- may be religious and may connect to MCU/Zdarsky Matt in that way. And that’s wonderful. I want to be very clear: it’s not the religiousness itself that I’m complaining about. My complaint is this: if you’re going to drastically alter a character, you need to back it up. You need to dig into it, make that new personality element feel powerful and real, and integrate it into the character’s pre-existing personality. And if you’re going to base the entirety of that character’s emotional journey on that new trait, you need to work to make sure it’s accessible to your readership. I, as a non-religious person, have no sense of why Matt is so upset about God. I have no frame of reference for his pain, either from my own experiences or from previous Daredevil continuity, and Zdarsky does nothing to develop or explore the basis of Matt’s faith, and so it all just falls flat. I feel alienated by this run. I see an angsty, self-righteous, prickly jerk ranting about needing to do God’s will, and then I put the issue down and read some She-Hulk instead. If Zdarsky (or Soule-- again, he could have done this too) had made an effort to actually explore and explain Matt’s feelings about his religion, rather than lazily shoving that characterization in there and assuming readers will just accept it, it wouldn’t bother me nearly as much as it has.
Also, I feel I have to mention; this is a fantasy universe. Matt went to Hell and yelled at Mephisto in Nocenti’s run, and it was awesome. Maybe this is just me, but if you’re going to bring in religion, at least have some fun with it! Bookend Nocenti’s run: Matt goes to Heaven, runs into God, and she gives him some free therapy and a souvenir t-shirt (or, I don’t know, something). To give Zdarsky credit, he did at least hint at that sort of thing in Matt’s conversation with Reed Richards in #9.
I'm going to cut this post short, because I really don’t enjoy writing negative reviews. I’d much rather post about things I love, and over the next few weeks I do plan to highlight aspects of this run that I’ve enjoyed. But I’ll end by saying that the weaknesses in Matt’s characterization could have been mitigated by a great supporting cast. Having prominent secondary protagonists would have provided outside perspectives on Matt’s behavior and given the reader other characters to root for when he got too out-of-hand. They would have drawn out the human elements in Matt’s character and helped give him that nuance he so desperately needs. But this run, just like Soule’s before it, is woefully underpopulated. Foggy’s presence is extremely weak and his appearances far too infrequent. Apart from brief cameos in MacKay’s Man Without Fear mini, Kirsten McDuffie and Sam Chung have both vanished, and I’m worried that Kirsten might have joined Milla Donovan in the limbo of still-living-but-permanently-benched ex-love interests. The women in this run are all either villains or people for Matt to sleep with (I was pumped about Elektra’s return and the idea of her training Matt, but her characterization was disappointing (I may write a separate post about this), and Mindy Libris could have been really compelling as a moral person trying to survive life in a crime family, but instead she was just a one-note, underdeveloped victim for Matt to lust after). To Zdarsky’s credit, he has clearly been trying to give the Kingpin a humanizing story arc, but even that I haven’t found compelling enough to want to keep reading (though that could just be me). Cole North was intriguing at first, but he ended up feeling more like a concept than an actual person. And none of these characters engage with Matt on a human, emotional level, which is what a good supporting cast needs to do. I commented early-on that this run felt like all flash and no bang (Is that a term? It is now.) and I think I still stand by that-- it’s all bombastic plot concepts and big ideas without any of the actual development or nuance necessary to make them work. There is nothing in this run that has pulled me in and held my interest; in the absence of a Matt I can connect to, I need something, and so far I haven’t found it.
I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point. This run was nominated for an Eisner for best ongoing series, so apparently someone likes it, but it has become clear that-- so far, anyway-- it’s just not right for me.
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𝘍𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘌𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Hi, so I wanted to write this for one of my favorite blogs that I always go to when I need some escapism in my life. She’s done a lot for me (and her followers) and her writing is phenomenal, so I wanted to give back; @kenjikutie I really hope you like it! I tried really hard on this one! .*♡*｡∞(〃 ω 〃)ﾟ∞｡*♡*.
I wrote it on this blog so other people who like Bleach can read it too!
And for people who like listening to all kinds of music, listen to this! It doesn’t really go with the story, but I thought it would be cool to share!
Festival of light by Audiomachine
>Admin 𝕋
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
Downcasted emerald eyes watched the folk of Karakura Town walk to and fro, going to various destinations. Trash, utter trash. Nothing of significance to him. Nothing he needed to report to Aizen, everyone there was disposable. He didn’t even know why he was back here, already done with a recon mission a week before. But he wasn’t one to oppose Aizen, it would be too cumbersome to even try.
The Fourth Espada stayed in the outskirt of the town, so he wouldn’t be seen by any passerby. Most of them stayed away, and most of them didn’t even glance towards his direction, all busy with their lives. Something else Ulquiorra doesn’t understand; feelings of determination or feelings of being driven to live life. But, it didn’t matter to him, it wasn’t meant for him.
Focusing back on his reconnaissance, he analyzed several different worthless beings that passed him, noting that there was nothing of significance in none of them, yet again. Dull, disconnected, gray, nothing interesting. All he sensed was just dreary and dry personas, nothing nothing nothing.
There had to be something and yet there wasn’t, and Ulquiorra deduced that this was a buste and there was no point in him being here.
When he was about to turn back and leave, the blacked haired boy felt a tingle, a slight shiver, like something was dancing on his skin. The best word to describe is bright. It was bright.
Ulquiorra slowly rounded back to the bustling crowd and saw a woman standing there, staring at him, watching him. Her expression revealed nothing, but her eyes revealed everything. Curiosity, mostly, but there was defensiveness or maybe a certain protectiveness. Maybe for the people of the town, he thought.
She stared at him for a few more moments before smiling slightly at the Hollow, and started to move, and he knew she wanted him to follow. WIth nothing better to do, he did.
He walked through the trees, parallel to her as she glided through the citizens of Karakura. This continued until they were in a quiet, desolate area of town, where no one was, though there was a big fountain with dolphins spewing water out of their mouths. There was also a singular bench on the left of the fountain, hidden from plain sight. And that was where the mysterious girl led him to, this bench.
Ulquiorra watched as the girl sat down gracefully, crossing her legs and tucking her (h/c) behind her ear. When she was settled, she looked up to Ulquiorra who was now in front of her, only a few feet away, sizing her up. She had power, he could feel it, and she was stronger. Far stronger than when she had led on when he first saw her.
She smirked at him when she noticed him become defensive. The girl entwined her fingers together and rested them on her knees. “Now, what is a Hollow, and an Espada at that, doing in Karakura Town?” she asked him, her voice smooth and clear. Frankly melodic to the ears.
Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes a fraction, trying to read her but gaining no new knowledge. Except one. “What is a Quincy doing here, residing in Karakura Town?” he asked back.
“Oh, a question answered with a question, how deflective.” she teased, her smile widening.
“And you better answer it before I pierce you in the chest right here and now.” the young Hollow threatened, his voice motone, but his eyes holding a promise.
She held no fear in her face, no anger either. Just subtle curiosity, which Ulquiorra found...intriguing. For once, he found someone intriguing. “I am merely defending my home from enemies like you, Ulquiorra.” she told him. He was surprised that she knew his name.
“How do you know who I am?” he bristled, ready to get out his weapon, even more so when she started laughing heartily.
“I am of many things, my adorable Hollow, and an information gatherer is one of them. I have to, to keep this town safe. But, I’m not here to fight you.” she explained, her arms now crossed, examining Ulquiorra with a critical eye and he felt like he was under a microscope. It unnerved him, the feel of her power shimming up his spine, making him want to shiver, but he stopped himself.
“Then why did you want me to blatantly follow you to this empty part of your so called home?” he asked, trying his best to not get sucked into her (e/c) eyes. They were like voids of emotionless pits, but yet there was so much feeling in them at the same time. Such contradictory, and Ulquiorra wanted to know more.
“I was interested in you, to put it simply. When I was reading up on you, it said that you were melancholy and indifferent. No emotion whatsoever, save for maybe irritation and annoyance.” she said, chuckling at the end. “I want to know what makes you tick.”
“But we are enemies, I have no way of trusting you, nor you me.” he voiced, stepping just an inch closer, the feel of being pulled in magnetic. Her eyes glimmered with what could be amusement.
“How about this. We talk and if you feel threatened at all, kill me.” she proclaimed confidently. Ulquiorra tried his best to hide his shock, not expecting her to be so extreme. She then patted the empty spot next to her, indicating for him to sit next to her.
Wearily he slowly sat down, keeping his eyes on her and waiting for anything she might duke out. But, true to her word, she didn’t summon an arrow or anything. No, she turned in her seat so she was facing him, with her lips lifted and a gleam in her eye. “You know my name, but I do not know yours.” he stated.
“My name is (y/n), a retired Quincy at your service.” she answered lightly, as if this conversation wasn’t possibly going to be her demise.
“A retired Quincy, that doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, retired, ran away, same thing. Point is, I’m not with anybody. I’m a lone wolf.” she said, almost in a self deprecating manner. “Enough about me, I want to know about you. Why are you so--” she motioned to his whole being, “blah.”
“Blah?”
“Yes, blah. Why are you so indifferent, so dull, so one noted. Have you ever felt happiness or sadness or even love?”
Ulquiorra was silent for a moment, trying to understand exactly what she wanted from him, but nonetheless responded, “I have no need for such emotions or heart.”
(y/n) squinted her eyes at the way he used ‘heart,’ but didn’t say anything, only asked him, “Why?”
“If this eye cannot see a thing, then it does not exist. That is the assumption under which I have fought. What is this ‘heart’? If I tear open that chest of yours, will I see it there? If I smash open that skull or yours, will I see it there?” he questioned her, threatening undertones clearly present. She frowned, her brows furrowed slightly, trying to find the right words to use.
“Well, that’s not healthy.” she retorted, laughing slightly. Ulquiorra gave her no answer. He didn’t really know what to say to that, honestly. But suddenly, (y/n) got up from the bench and faced him standing. She leaned down and trapped Ulquiorra with her on either side of his head, and gazed into his eyes with her (e/c) ones. “But that’s okay. I’ll just have to show you. Meet me here, in the same place, a week from now. And I’ll show you what it feels like.” she murmured, and voice having a certain lilt to it.
It was hypnotizing, the way she spoke like that. Ulquiorra felt that same shiver again, like when her power was touching him. He went to lift his hand to her face, but suddenly, with a burst of wind and light, she was gone from his sight.
Confused and dazed he looked around to find her again, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. With a huff of annoyance, he got up from the bench and walked away, back to headquarters.
He’s not going to meet with her, no, he had too much to do. Besides, he doesn’t even know her, and she could definitely terminate him if she wanted to; it was too dangerous for him to see her again.
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
“I can’t believe I’m here.” he uttered to himself, watching the water flow down the fountain. He was waiting at the bench, like he was told to do.
Sitting and waiting is what he has been doing for the past hour. There was no specific time that was set, so he came the same time as last week, and when he noticed she wasn’t here, he waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Ulquiorra was about to up and leave, irritation boiling in his chest until he heard a voice behind him, “Impatient aren’t we.” he quickly stood up from the bench and spun around to see (y/n) there with her hands on her hips and a mischievous smile on her face. She was wearing a flowing rose colored dress that complimented her greatly and she was wearing rose gold earrings and a bracelet to go along with her dress.
There it was again, the shiver, that achiness. Ulquiorra thought it was her power, but it must be something else. Because everytime he looks at her, her smile, her eyes, it was there. Like he was being taunted.
He hated it.
“I was waiting here for an hour, maybe more.” he told her, ignoring the ache.
“I’m sorry about that, I had to go do something, and it took longer than I expected, but I’m here now! So let’s go!” she exclaimed, then walked around the bench and took him by the arm. He tried to get out of her gasp, but she was too strong. “Now now Ulquiorra, we have to do this right! It’s a date after all!”
“Huh--date? What--” but he was cut off by (y/n) dragging him to the nearby forest. It took them awhile to walk through it, the dense population of trees making it hard to see where they were going, but soon enough (y/n) led them to a huge canyon with a river and a waterfall.
It took them quite a long ways to get there, and it was well hidden. He suspected that nobody else knew this even existed, except him and (y/n). She let go of Ulquiorra and strode to the cliff of the canyon, inhaling the cool air. “Isn’t it nice?” she asked the Hollow, turning to him expectedly. He gave her a blank stare and a shrug, walking over to stand next to her. He gazed over to the waterfall and was mildly surprised to see how big it was. “The waterfall is my favorite too.” (y/n) muttered to him before ambling to it.
They spent the rest of their day there, near the waterfall. (y/n) did most of the talking and asking the questions, while Ulquiorra stayed quiet for all almost all of the date, only speaking up when she was persistent in getting an answer out of him.
They talked about life, her life specifically, but nothing too invasive, everything vague. It was about her childhood and parents, what candy she liked and what kind of foods she hated.
And Ulquiorra, to his better judgement, was actually enjoying it. Enjoyed the talking, and the listening. Basking in the afternoon sun, and her voice soothing him to relax and enjoy the scenery surrounding them.
Once he had to leave, he promised he would back again next week, same time and place.
This went on for weeks, turning into months.
Until one day, he was waiting at the usual place, once again watching the dolphins spout the water down into the fountains below. And once again heard her voice behind him, just like the first time they kept each other’s company.
“Do you think we can just sit here for today?” he asked her, to which she smiled and nodded. (y/n) sat down, closer to him than ever before, their arms touching. He didn’t mind it, though.
“What’s up? You seem to be thinking pretty hard today.” she teased, poking him on the forehead, next to his mask.
“I want to know something.”
“And that would be?”
“Why are you doing this?” his question had taken her aback a bit. She glanced between his eyes and the ground before sighing.
“At first I didn’t think it would lead to us meeting each other for months, and you actually opening up to me. But, I did it because I felt like you would understand me, more than anybody else would. You and I have a lot more in common than you think. The lack of understanding of emotion and empathy, the blank face and the coldness you would show to others. I was once like that, but someone helped out of that mindset, so I wanted to help you because I know that being that way is lonely.” she conveyed, her face showing her concern. She looked to him again when he began speaking.
“I have these aches in my body whenever I look at you. The hole in my chest,” he started to unbutton his jacket to show her, along with his tattoo, “it feels like it quivers and it aches everytime I am with you. I don’t understand what it could be. And when I think about you, it happens. When I talk about you it happens too, and lately I have been thinking and talking about you a lot.” he voiced. He saw a blush come up to her cheeks, and her eyes were wide, looking between his.
She coughed and sputtered an incoherent sentence and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what to say to that.” she squeaked out. With his expressionless face, Ulquiorra watched as she squirmed in her seat, then called out to her, “(Y/n).”
It was the first time he has ever said her name. “Y-yes?” she stuttered out, her heart racing.
“What does it mean to feel? To have a heart?” he asked her. She took a moment to gather her thoughts.
“Well, it means to be alive.”
“What if I don’t want that. To be alive.”
“Then I will continue to show you what the world holds, to help you so you know it’s worth it; to live.” she said, her cheeks no longer rosy. He watched her, trying to see any lies, any type of betrayal, and saw none.
His chest hurt again, and Ulquiorra unconsciously rubbed at it. “So then, what are these things that are happening to me.” he asked, talking about the achiness and the shivers. (Y/n) laughed a little and the blush was back.
“T-that, I think, means you are in love, Ulquiorra.” she muttered under her breath, stuttering a little.
“Love?”
“Uhuh.”
“I don’t need that, it doesn’t exist.” Ulquiorra said hastily. “Is there a way to make it stop?” he heard her chuckled and saw her shake her head no.
“Not really. You don’t choose to have it happen to you, it just does....Do you know who you love?”
Ulquiorra looked to his hand and shook his head, still not understanding anything she was saying. (y/n) brightened up then, and gently took his face in her hands, shocking him with the sudden contact, but didn’t dare move away.
“I’m going to do something really outrageous and possibly stupid, but is it okay if I do it?”
He trusted her, and she never did anything to him that would harm him in the months they have been seeing each other so he nodded his approval.
With determination sparkling in her (e/c) eyes, she slowly inched closer to him, staring intently at his lips. Ulquiorra didn’t exactly know what she was doing, but let her do it anyway. He felt her hands trace the marking on his cheeks and they way her fingers were shaking in nervousness. So, to appease her, he closed his eyes, and waited.
He didn’t expect to feel something warm to land on his lips. He didn’t expect it to taste good, or feel so good on his own lips. He didn’t expect for his chest to burn like a raging fire, along with his whole body and face. He didn’t open his eyes until she moved back. Her face was glowing and her eyes glittering like two jewels. And he found her...Beautiful. So very beautiful. “Do it again.”
“What?”
“Whatever you just did, do it again.”
And she did. She kissed him again, pressing her lips to his, but with more pressure this time. She felt him kiss back now, and her heart felt as though it was going to explode. She felt him take her in his arms and hold her tightly, and she squeaked into the kiss, doing the same to him.
(y/n) pulled back, needing air, and saw Ulquiorra slowly open his own eyes, and something was different about them. They seemed clear now, not as foggy. He looked to her and she watched as a small smiled was placed on his lips. “I understand now.” he muttered to her.
He leaned forward again and pressed her lips to his, feeling fireworks. He really did understand now. This feeling being love, it made sense; no wonder he felt so happy and okay with it.
They sat there, just holding each other and occasionally touching lips. (Y/n) didn’t say much after that, she was quiet and keeping her head resting on Ulquiorra’s shoulder, whereas Ulquiorra put the free side of his head on hers, their hands intertwined, her thumb rubbing circles. They whispered anything and everything to each other as the sun set, but Ulquiorra didn’t get up to leave as he was supposed to. No, he stayed with her, wanting to keep staying with her.
He wanted to be with her, if it meant that these feelings will keep emerging from within him like this.
#bleach#bleach x reader#reader insert#x reader#ulquiorra#ulquiorra x reader#bleach scenarios#bleach imagines#ulquiorra imagines#ulquiorra drabble#bleach drabble#a present for my love#i hope you like it#ulquiorra schiffer#yo why was he so hot tho#this got so stupidly long bro#how#why#i got in my zone lol
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Based on a prompt by @j-purplesunsets-rainydays: I just thought of another prompt for you 😅 davenzi, enemies to lovers: their entire group is going to a cabin for a few days, though Matteo and David for X reason don't get along. They get there early, before everyone else, for whatever reason, but a bad snow storm hits and the others can't get to the cabin, so David and Matteo are stuck together there! It's cliche but I think you could really make it amazing
This isn’t quite what I had intended from that prompt, but here we are. Chapter one of a planned eight! Many many thanks to @kapplebougher who did an amazing and speedy beta job for me, and to my cheerleaders - you know who you are!
Snowbound, chapter one
It’s quiet as David presses his forehead to the cool panes of the glass and stares outside. That’s something for which he’s genuinely grateful because it means he can try to get his racing thoughts into some semblance of order before he has to play nice for several days. He’s had major reservations about this trip ever since Abdi first suggested it when he was five beers into a great night and everything had seemed equally hilarious, exciting and easily achieved. To Abdi anyway. None of those things is even remotely true, definitely weren’t true at the time, and yet they had made it work in the end. Sort of.
David’s on a train in charge of an entire large bag filled with food and alcohol while most of the others are going to follow later in a car. Which they could technically have brought the food in, but into which they apparently weren’t able to fit it considering the mountains of other important stuff they were trailing. Like skis, a snowboard or two and lots of warm clothes. Make ‘having no room for the food’ point one on the list of reasons why this trip was a badly organised, blatantly stupid idea.
David sighs as he drags his eyes back inside the carriage and looks around him. Looks at Matteo, who’s dozing in the corner of the seat opposite David. That’s the biggest problem, and that’s why David had reservations about this from the start. Not that anyone listened to him. That’s point two on the long list of why this was not a good idea. Though in terms of how large it loomed in the list of ‘reasons why David should not do this’ it’s right up there, and probably should have its own points track and not just ending up lumped in with all the other much less important reasons.
The thing about Matteo is that he shines and stings in David’s life in equal measure.
The thing with them has always baffled everyone around them. Fuck, half the time it baffles David. There was a small moment in time when he’d thought they were connecting. Back when he was newly arrived from the raw, rough experience at his old school and Matteo had smiled at him a few times, David had thought he might even have made a friend. Someone he could share thoughts with, relaxing into the new sensation of smoking weed and rambling about everything and nothing for hours.
But he was swiftly disillusioned of that idea when Matteo had retreated into himself as early as the next day, his smiles coming less often over the next week, clipped and cut off and eventually fading to nothingness alongside short, rough dismissals of any attempt to connect again. That it was something to do with David was obvious when Matteo was with his friends. With them, he’d spark into life, laughing, pushing, teasing. He had the energy he’d had on that one glittering evening they’d spent together. So watching Matteo with those others, fresh from the wounds inflicted at his old school, David had run and hidden. From that moment he was careful to stay as far from Matteo as he could get, unwilling to suffer anymore at the hands of people who flash hot and cold and always have some sort of verbal weapon hidden under the cover of their friendliness when it appears.
Huffing again, David turns back to look out the window. Thinking about Matteo just serves to raise his blood pressure, sending both an aching thought about what might have been if Matteo hadn’t been such an ass and a stabbing anger at how blasé he seems to be about the whole thing now that they’re thrown together so often through chance. Well, chance and a group of people who don’t let anyone stay distant once they’ve decided they want to be friends. Blocking out the sight of Matteo sitting there in front of David is the best way to keep his carefully cultivated calm. Once they’re all at the cabin with the boys it should be fine. It’s never quite as hard to be polite when it’s not just the two of them. So it’s something of a blessing that Matteo is asleep and David isn’t forced to make awkward small talk with him.
Instead he can focus on the beauty of the world outside his window. Darkness is drawing in around the train and with it come some small flurries of snow. They dance, fidgeting spinners through the air as the train rattles onwards through the landscape, beautiful and fragile. Watching them, David lets himself drift, following their forms with his eyes and his heart and leaving his own troubles slumbering on the seat opposite. There’ll be time enough to worry about all that once they get to their destination.
“How are we supposed to get to the cabin?” Matteo asks, his voice clipped, weariness seeping in even though he’s been asleep for the last hour at least.
David kicks at the heavy bag by his feet, finding it impossible to move and wondering glumly how they’re going to move it at all, let alone get it to the cabin.
“David?” Matteo says, irritation slipping into his voice, and David’s gaze snaps up to Matteo’s. The exhaustion is actually easy to read even in the shadowy light in front of the station, or maybe it’s so easy to see because of the way it throws all the planes and angles of Matteo’s face into relief and plays up all the hidden shadows reflected on it. Dark smudges are visible under his eyes and his body is slumped against the stone wall in a way that looks more like genuine need for support than affectation. David shrugs.
“Dunno,” he murmurs. “Uber?”
Matteo’s lips purse as if the idea is distasteful, but he too looks down at the bag stuffed full of food and seems to recognise the inevitability. He sighs and pulls out his phone. Within moments he nods and looks over at David again.
“It’s on its way,” he says. “We should get this stuff out the front I suppose.”
David nods, relieved to have something to do other than stand around making this awkward chat with Matteo in the dim lighting that calls back to the hallway in which they’d first talked. The hallway and conversation in which David had first thought he might manage to belong in the new school that was so terrifying after everything he’d been through.
Between them, they manage to perch their personal bags over their shoulders and drag the food bag through the brightly lit entrance hall and out to the cracked and broken pavement out the front. They stand together, panting breaths sending puffs of misty air out into the deepening dusk as the day slips even closer into night. The snow is falling faster now, no longer dancing but now coming down as if with purpose. David shivers as he looks at the flakes, rushing towards their inevitable soggy end now rather than twisting and dancing as if on spirited legs. The wind is cutting through the hoodie he’s wearing, whistling in under the open edges of his jacket and making him shudder with the cold.
Beside him, Matteo has lit up a smoke of some sort, and David doesn’t want to know what type of smoke it might be. It’s enough that it smells terrible, the smoke acrid in the gusts of wind whipping around them, but that somehow Matteo makes it look good. His eyes when he blows the smoke out flicker closed, his head tips back and David is drawn to the long length of his throat exposed by the movement. Which is almost as infuriating as the revolting smell.
“How long before it gets here?” David asks, trying to shake off the sudden flush of heat that Matteo’s smoking has dragged into his own body, swamping it and masking the chill of the night.
That might have been a mistake as Matteo looks over at him, the smudges under his eye almost invisible now and his eyes a deep reflective blue in the artificial lights as his hair flops down over his face. It’s so reminiscent of their first discussion under harsh lights outside a school room, that David has to suck in a breath and drop his own eyes to the ground, focusing instead on the scuffed shoes he’s chosen to wear.
“It’s about five minutes away,” Matteo says, and David nods morosely. Five minutes. Might as well be an eternity.
“Why can’t either of us drive?” David asks, not really intending to be heard but Matteo huffs out a tiny laugh drawing David’s eyes right back up to his face.
“Because we’re lazy fucks,” he says, his eyes glinting as he takes another drag on the smoke between his fingers, then offers it to David.
The smell crashes over him again, and he wrinkles his nose. Shakes his head. There’s a flicker of something on Matteo’s face, his eyes shutter for a brief moment before he nods and takes another drag himself. The hint of a smile is gone, and when Matteo turns his back to the wall and looks up at the sky David knows the conversation is done.
This always happens. There’s some small start at camaraderie or conversation, but then it shuts down almost as soon as it begins, leaving David ill at ease, body thrumming from a desire he can’t explain and head stuffed full of contradictory thoughts. Matteo is at once enthralling and exasperating, never opening up enough to let David see inside. As if that one long ago conversation was all David was ever to be allowed to see and to know and everything else is cut off before it can even begin. It stabs at him again that Matteo isn’t like this with anyone else. With them he’s charming and open, teasing and sarcastic, alive in a way that David is never allowed to see if they’re ever alone in this way. Not that David wants to be allowed inside. He just wishes he knew what the hell he’d done to make Matteo this different around him.
There was part of him, back then, that had wondered if Matteo was some sort of asshole who’d worked out David’s secret from that evening they’d shared and rejected him because of that. Back then, it was all rough and raw and cut him to the bone whenever he ran up against the prejudices of others. It’s not as bad now, not when he’s lived long enough in the world to feel more secure in his own skin. He’s much less likely to give in to the desire to run and to hide. Still. The lingering feelings from those days colour every interaction with Matteo and it always ends like this. Stilted conversations that go nowhere and a Matteo who’s closed off and shut down.
Before he can let his thoughts darken any more, headlights flash around the corner and a small boxy car slides up next to them. Matteo’s bending to look into the window, and laughing at something the driver has said, all hints of his earlier tiredness dissipating as he turns to grab their bags and fling them into the car’s backseat. The contrast is so stark that David can’t help the pain that lances through him as he climbs into the back seat next to the pile of bags.
It only takes about ten minutes to get to the cabin, but in that time the snow becomes heavier until it’s almost impossible to see as they make their way through the night, headlights barely making any headway against the thickening shroud as it falls. The driver has stopped cracking jokes and started squinting through the windscreen, his hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel and his face a mask of concentration. Matteo has subsided too, his exhaustion obvious in the way he lets himself flop back against the headrest. It all leaves David to the joys of his own thoughts, which are not particularly peaceful.
Sighing in relief as they arrive, he’s able to shake off the approaching melancholy and get their belongings safely stored into the cabin. David looks around him as they stand just inside the entrance. It looks pleasant enough, this cabin they’ve rented, with a large open plan kitchen taking up most of the space at one end of the long room, and a table breaking the space between it and the living area which is filled with plump couches and overstuffed chairs. Thankfully, there’s a wall heater as well as the fire place with wood neatly stacked inside. It’s so cold in the unheated room that David is shivering again, and he knows there’s no way that fire will generate any heat any time soon.
Matteo seems to have had a similar thought, because he strides over to the heater and pushes a few buttons.
“Putting that on the highest it will go,” he says as he turns back to the luggage they’ve stacked just inside the front door and starts pulling out the various foodstuffs they’ve brought with them.
Part of David wants to argue, to push back against the assumption that Matteo gets to be in charge and making all those sorts of decisions. But a bigger part of him knows that’s unreasonable and knows that if he’d been the one to turn it on he’d have done exactly the same thing, so he just hums an affirmation and bends to help Matteo with the food. They work in near silence, with the occasional query about where to store certain foods the only discussion.
David wouldn’t call it uncomfortable exactly, but he can tell just how tired Matteo is and just how much he wants to be away from David. The chilly tension from the station remains with them, and David hopes like hell that the rest of the boys aren’t too far away. He needs their cheerful exuberance to make it through this trip with any sort of enjoyment. This frosty, barely-there communication Matteo has going on is putting a huge dampener on David’s experience of this time.
The chill in the air wears off as they work, pushed away both by the heater’s warmth and the effort of heaving things around, but the chill between the two of them lingers. David wistfully hopes that by the time they’re done their company will have arrived. He’s not sure how much longer he can endure this silence and tension once he has nothing to focus on and they’re forced into some weird semblance of intimacy.
They’re just about finished, storing the last few beers into the suitably large fridge, when Matteo’s phone pings loudly. He shoves the beers he’s holding deeper into the fridge and by the time he’s dragged the phone out of his pocket it has sounded twice more.
Matteo’s face flickers as he reads the messages and his lips crease into an angry line.
“Fuck,” he says softly, so quietly that David is sure he wasn’t supposed to hear, but he can’t help the inquisitive hum he makes.
Matteo’s eyes snap up to him as if he’s just realised David is still here with him.
“The boys aren’t coming,” he says, his face flushing as he drops his gaze away from David’s. There’s resignation and irritation in his voice and a scowl on his face. David winces. That’s one possibility he hadn’t even considered, too consumed by the need for the rest of the boys and their enlivening presence perhaps.
“What? Why?”
“Snow storm, apparently. They can’t get through. Stuck at some little hotel somewhere on the road.”
That’s just great, David thinks viciously. The boys were supposed to be his buffer. They were supposed to make this thing something like fun. Instead he’s stuck here with someone who clearly finds his company less than ideal. Someone who David himself finds difficult to get through to, and with whom he has a complicated history. Worse, the boys have all the equipment with them, so there’s no chance even for skiing or snowboarding to get him away from the supremely awkward moments he can already sense looming in his future.
He flings the door open and looks outside. Indeed, the snow has piled up so there’s about a foot drifted against the cabin already. It’s not stopping anytime soon, either, as the flakes are falling so steadily now that it’s impossible to make out one from another. Any hope of the boys getting through to rescue David stutters to a halt, lost in the chilled white wall piling up in front of him.
Beside him, Matteo huffs his own irritation.
“Fuck,” he says again, louder this time.
David has to agree with that sentiment as he closes the door, blocking out the unwelcome sight of the silent, muffled white world building its armour against them. Fuck, indeed.
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Something else that has been on our mind is the intersection between our ocs and our experience being a system. There's a few different aspects that this manifested for us, and it's just something we reflect on every once in a while.
For one thing, our ocs were a major coping mechanism growing up. I think for many reasons - it was a safe format to express and explore different individuals who weren't "me", and in retrospect too I think a lot of alters I'd see in dreams would get recycled for stories and ocs because alter dreams always felt more vivid and enrapturing than my more mundane dreams. Our experiences shaping and defining our identities via fictional constructs started early, and since it was an overwhelmingly positive payoff for us at the time the approach has stuck. (Fast forward to Now with our 100+ fictives from media... orz)
Of course, another aspect of coping is projection. And man... was there a lot more of that than I realized.
Of course, some of it was direct alter to oc projection/influence? Certain alters latched onto or created ocs for themselves to express themselves so in that sense, very straightforward. I remember a friend once commenting on how easily I slid 'into character' to quote a hypothetical scenario and his response to it, voice and intonation and all... we do in fact have an alter who took on that character and have seen him around in our brain since.
Some of it was less obvious, too... gender was toyed a lot with our ocs. We had a character who could switch between "the two" genders, and when he did so it was also a difference in persona... the character was like an onstage idol who irl was ofc drastically different, especially when presenting masculinely. Reflecting on that today, it occurred to me that could easily be interpreted not just as someone nonbinary or trans, but as someone who's plural. And it may be something I end up exploring when I revamp the character.
And then of course.... your standard good/evil personality stereotypes. There were Several blatantly obvious examples of that, and others that weren't so plain about it being "multiple personalities" but still clearly a duality was seen in the character, secret lifes, inner struggles, things of that nature.
Admittedly I picked up the good/evil tropes from media. One of my favorite manga series at the time had a case like that that I think about to this day- it wasn't a great case obviously, but it was coded in the split being a direct result of childhood trauma, and that character and her story stuck with me as a result. I strove to emulate it in a few of my most beloved ocs.
I don't think I portrayed it as good/evil just because of media tropes. That was definitely the limited scope I had to work with at the time. But for me, the internal struggle between distinct voices has always been somewhat painful for me, confusing, unknown. Traits oft associated to 'evil' entities. I battled with voices in my head I didn't even know existed, thinking that I was just being difficult, contradictory, demanding. One constant conflict I would struggle with was between going out for fun with family or staying home, neither solution ever being satisfying because the losers always grumbled and growled and raged in my head. I could never satisfy myself, and felt like it was a darkness that I was battling with because I didn't have a light to illuminate the situation for what it was.
Overly dramatic of course, but in middle school when most of these good/evil ocs were established, well. Isn't every middle schooler at least a Little overly dramatic in everything they see? ;)
As for those ocs, I'm not sure they will remain as systems - not because I don't want to write it, but having these characters I care so much for and love... They deserve better, and while writing a positive system experience for them is one way to go about it, for me it'll always resonate too closely to those less ideal portrayals in their roots. It'll mean retelling those old stories of the trauma that defined them. I definitely intend to write positive system portrayals going forward, including these struggles, but I think I need a fresh template to start with. My old ocs have earned a rest from the trauma I put them through for so long, I want to give them a happy story from the start this time.
#(and if im honest i think some of those system ocs have spawned alters who want something different... I want to give them that as a gift#for everything theyve done for me even when I didnt know. even when I fought against them.)#long post#sys.txt#gonna put this in tags more bc maybe itll resonate with some other creative systems?#apologies for spamming the tags with literal books suddenly skdksjfjd#ramblingonandon#actuallytraumagenic#actuallyosdd#actuallymultiple#actuallyplural#this is something of a love letter to the mes of time past#and the stories and building blocks that have come out of it that helped me get where i am today#so it will stay long tyvm smfkdjffj
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so i just read all of venom’s original villain comics in birth and vengeance of venom and absolutely loved it. primarily because of venom himself, who is one of the most interesting and fun characters i’ve seen in a long time.
i mean just look at them. they’re just so fucking lovable.
what i really find fascinating about the relationship between eddie and the symbiote is how it’s both simultaneously supportive AND destructive.
the symbiote enables eddie’s psychotic tendencies, and lets him indulge in his very blatantly unreasonable rage towards peter as they try to kill him, causing venom to be such a crazy shitshow which is definitely not healthy for either of them. (but it’s still hilariously fun)
but then on the other hand, when they find each other, eddie gains a companion to help him through a very painful and lonely time in his life, and the symbiote gains a host who treats it with actual respect and dignity, considering it as an equal instead of dehumanizing it it’s some sort of monster not deserving of all the love and care in the world unlike a CERTAIN WALL CRAWLER.
i actually find it quite disturbing how dismissive peter is of venom, despite being the one person who knows the most about both of their pained histories.
he’s explicitly told that the symbiote only tried to kill him due to acting out from the pain of being rejected by someone that it loved. and yet, peter still seems so steadfast in his poor opinion of venom.
even in trial of venom, upon hearing the possibility that eddie was merely an innocent helpless victim controlled by the symbiote, (despite this not being true) he literally scoffs at the concept of showing empathy towards him regardless.
which is ironic because anne showing empathy towards eddie is literally what ends up snapping him back to reality, and finally realizing that maybe spider-man isn’t as a bad a guy as he’s been making him out to be.
like, i understand that it’s probably impossible for peter himself to reason with eddie because, considering the way he is, there’s no way in hell he’d ever listen to him. in fact, the one time peter calls him out on his contradictory beliefs, it doesn’t do him any good as eddie desperately tries to rationalize his own beliefs by ignoring spider-man’s good deeds in order to paint him as a monster.
but what i find really annoying is that there’s not a single line where peter expresses any sort of sympathy for venom’s situation. not even a “man i feel bad for him but he’s still crazy and i gotta take him down”. he always just looks down upon them as a villain, and it really bugs me because, even though they’re a “bad guy”, they’re not REALLY a bad guy.
they still truly care about protecting innocents, and go out of their way on multiple occasions to help save them from danger, most notably when they completely drop their goal of killing spider-man, to focus on saving people from carnage by actually teaming up with spider-man.
eddie’s affection for innocents is at the core of his character, so much so that it’s the excuse he uses to justify his hatred towards spider-man, by deluding himself into believing that peter is actually a threat towards innocents.
the main problem is that his passion to save innocents far too often tips over into aggression. because he’s so laser focused on saving people, he indiscriminately lashes out at anyone who gets in the way of that goal.
paradoxically, this leads to him being willing to harm or even kill innocents themselves if they stand in his way of protecting innocents, even if they don’t necessarily pose any serious threat to him.
he gets so enraged at anything that would stand in his way of protecting innocents, and impulsively tries to eliminate those obstacles in order to achieve his goal, even his those obstacles are his goal itself, all because he cares just a little too much that he ends up going a little too far.
that’s actually why i find eddie brock to be such a compelling character. he has a strong and respectable moral code that he sometimes fails to adhere to because he adheres to it too strongly. it’s a really interesting foundation for a character, the idea that he’s too good for his own good.
but he’s still good. venom has done some frankly unreasonable and terrible things. but it doesn’t have to be that way. they’ve already proven that they can be better. and i really, really want them to be, because they’re a good person at heart. they’ve gone through so much bullshit, and i just want them to be able to be truly better and happy with nothing in their way.
it’s something that’s long overdue.
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I always thought Anna said "only an angel can kill an angel" because the idea that a human (or anything else) could ever obtain an angel blade was so ridiculous, they didn't even consider it. As for Cas not knowing who was killing angels, I now personally interpret that Cas was such a blind soldier (or recently back from obedience training with Naomi) that the idea a fellow angel would be working against them just didn't compute until he saw it for himself. Shaky, I know, but it's all I got 😜
Confession: I am watching 4.16 AT THIS MOMENT. As I type this. It’s on the tnt loop this morning :’D
First off, it’s not Anna who says that line, it’s URIEL. Aka, the antagonist of this episode:
URIEL: Alastair was much more powerful than we had imagined.CASTIEL: No. No demon can overpower that trap. I made it myself. We've been friends for a long time, Uriel. Fought by each other's sides, served together away from home, for what seems like forever. We're brothers, Uriel. Pay me that respect. Tell me the truth.URIEL: The truth is, the only thing that can kill an angel...A blade slides out of URIEL's sleeve into his grasp.URIEL: ...is another angel.
What Anna says, before she stabs him:
CASTIEL: You can't win, Uriel. I still serve God.URIEL: You haven't even met the man. There is no will. No wrath. No God.Between each phrase, URIEL punches CASTIEL. The last time, he raises his fist and is stabbed through the neck from behind.ANNA: Maybe. Or maybe not. But there's still me.
I just wanted that clarified, because it does change the tone of the line, and informs how much stock we should put into that judgment, you know? Considering the level of manipulation Uriel employed throughout s4 to this point, it’s pretty blatantly Part Of The Grand Plan, and therefore should be examined critically because of that. Uriel... wasn’t stating this as a blatant fact, but more in the way of a villain monologue confession “Yes, ’twas I that burned down the house!” sort of deal, you know? Okay, back to the actual question! :D
My working theory is “It’s Chuck’s fault.” I mean, the show just confessed that everything bad is actually Chuck’s fault. But it’s kinda been saying that since s4, too. Yes, a lot of s4 (and 4.16 really began this framing) as “a betraying element in Heaven who sided with Lucifer causing dissent and disobedience among the angels, but when asked, all the angels and archangels stated their reason for going forward with the apocalypse was that it was God’s Will, you know? This was the Grand Plan. But it went deeper than that, too.
When asked why now, and when Dean asked why me, the answer at the bottom of it all was because I’m tired. Raphael in s6, Gabriel in s5... they just wanted it all to be over. They were tired of trying to understand and live by God’s Grand Plan.
But Gabriel has also said, in 5.08: Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you?Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always.
It was always gonna be Dean and Sam. Gabriel started messing with them years earlier. We know Chuck began writing the Supernatural books at the beginning of the series, with The Woman In White, but that he’d been setting things in motion for the apocalypse to happen since long before that, at least as far back as 1973. Or possibly the earliest timeline point in canon-- When Sam met Samuel Colt and Dean killed a phoenix with it in 1863. You know, Chuck had to set all that up if wanted Sam and Dean to actually have a chance of releasing the Leviathans, you know?
Even the orders Chuck supposedly left the angels with when he flapped off for parts unknown long before the start of canon were contradictory, forcing them to choose which set to follow. Cas’s line has always been that the purpose of angels was to watch over humanity, while other angels (Michael, Raphael, et al) have always insisted that their purpose was to enact the apocalypse to bring God back to the world. So what did Chuck actually tell the angels? BOTH things are probably true. The angels CHOSE what to do with the time that was given to them, and Cas always chose humanity, while others always chose obedience to the Grand Plan to end it all. It was still always a CHOICE. Even 5.22 framed it as a choice-- Lucifer told Michael they could just walk away, but Michael was convinced that they had to go through with the fight because it was destined. He could’ve chosen differently, but everything that had led him to that point had convinced him that he was making the right choice in fulfilling that destiny. Only TFW overrode that choice.
Because Chuck manipulated EVENTS and SITUATIONS. And then left the choices to PEOPLE. He reminds me so much of Ruby in s4: I just gave you the options, and you chose the right path every time.
We’ve seen the mind-boggling level at which Chuck can manipulate events and people-- snapping his fingers and everyone on the planet can just lie again. But compare what he is willing to snap his fingers over, and what he makes excuses for and refuses to snap his fingers over. And what he ACTIVELY MANIPULATES into being despite his stated intentions, you know?
He actively manipulated 4.18 into being. Yes, it was Ruby manipulating Sam throughout s4 into total reliance on her, total alienation from Dean, and making him believe that her way was the only way to “stop Lilith.” She’d stated it from the start, from s3, that the only thing she wanted was “Lilith dead.” And that was TRUE. She just... dodged telling them the WHOLE truth.
I think Chuck is very much the same. Very much the angels in s4 and s5 like Zachariah who “avoided certain truths to manipulate you.”
And in retrospect, Chuck would’ve had the power to just snap his fingers and make every angel just forget they had an angel blade for half a year (or a year, or even several years as he ramped up the events of the apocalypse). But he also could’ve snapped his fingers and made the angels content to watch over humanity for an eternity, you know?
Because the real question Sam and Dean shouldn’t have been asking wasn’t “Why Us?” The real question was “why NOW?” If all of these events had been destined since the beginning of time, why was Heaven and Hell scrambling to make it all happen now?
Cupids had to make John and Mary Winchester meet, fall in love, and produce Sam and Dean. Demons had to interfere throughout Sam’s life (we learned from Lucifer in 4.22). And events of s2 had to be arranged to push Dean to sell his soul for Sam in 2.22, but really it had been the events of Dean’s entire life that had prepared him to actually do so.
The entire apocalypse could’ve fallen apart if ANY of these things hadn’t happened in the prescribed order, you know? Which we saw the proof of in 14.13. One wish on that pearl that pulled John out of his original timeline before the beginning of canon as we know it was enough to undo the work of angels and demons. The apocalypse just... never happened in that wish-changed universe.
So for something that was “always destined to happen,” it was shockingly easy to undo, you know? Just like Zachariah had the power to implant false memories in Dean and Sam in 4.17, just like Gabriel had the power to force them to “play their roles” in tv show after tv show, that’s kind of what Chuck’s been doing their entire lives.
In 5.08, Gabriel didn’t force words into their mouths, you know? He didn’t dictate what they would choose. Their free will remained intact. He was just nudging them to make the choices he wanted them to by dropping them into specific situations. And they still resisted, still kept trying to find another way out. I really do think 5.08 is an excellent metaphor for just how Chuck has been meddling in their lives all along (and again, that aspect of Chuck is very “Gabriel,” you know? He does have the other archangels’ characteristics as well, but his Chuck persona-- the part of him that waffled and denied he had the power to fix anything in 11.20-11.23, the part that taught himself guitar and wants to be pals with creation-- is basically Advanced Gabriel.
And just... deciding the angels shouldn’t have swords for a while could’ve just been an “interesting writing choice” for him at the time. Maybe he just wanted to see what would happen. Maybe he thought taking away their main weapon would make it easier to bring on the apocalypse.
Because I’m sitting here watching Alastair nearly killing Cas right now, and I find it IMPOSSIBLE to believe that in that situation, if Cas had an angel blade, he wouldn’t have pulled it out and stabbed Alastair with it. Instead he relied on Ruby’s knife to inflict pain on Alastair, even though it wasn’t able to actually kill Alastair. But an angel blade WOULD’VE killed Alastair, you know? And in theory, it would’ve killed Lilith, too...
During a season where most of the angels truly believed they were trying to STOP the apocalypse from happening (only a few knew the true plan, confessed by Zachariah in 4.22), if there HAD been a confrontation between an angel and Lilith before the end of the season, it would’ve been a matter of a bit of a stabbing and then BOOM no apocalypse, ever.
And this whole situation that Uriel created in 4.16 was framed as “we must stop the demon responsible for killing the angels!” As if his secondary plan was simply to foment dissent and distrust among the angels while intensifying the drive to battle the armies of Hell.
And through all of this, Cas’s lesson via Anna is about learning to choose for himself, to think for himself. Basically... he’s learning how to be human, and what it means to have free will.
It’s only after he’s resurrected by Chuck in 5.01 that he suddenly has an angel blade again. And it’s only after that point that ALL the angels suddenly have them. When NONE of them had angel blades throughout the entirety of s4.
So when Uriel said that in 4.16 (which... I’m literally watching that scene RIGHT NOW), I think it was literally true. Uriel had the only angel blade in existence as of that moment.
#spn 4.16#spn 4.22#spn 4.17#spn 5.08#spn 5.22#spn 4.18#spn 11.20#if you say 'mysterious ways' so help me i will kick your ass#supernatural weapons#that's what free will is#Anonymous
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Ink Nemesis | 01
Genre: Angst/Fluff || paparazzi!au; fake dating!au;
Pairing: Reader x Yoongi
Length: 9.0k
Synopsis: As an aspiring writer drowning under the public’s radar, a click of the pen is all you need to accept your supervisor’s offer to co-write an article for the SS - Secrets Spilled, a regular section of your company’s weekly tabloid; but fabricated stories and invasive details aren’t all that you write when you discover Min Yoongi’s dirty little secret.
Writing has always been one of your greatest nemeses. A half-filled ink pen and a quarter scribbled paper have gradually become ingrained into the mundane life you bear as an unsuccessful journalist. An inevitable crash is only to be expected of from partaking in a love-hate relationship with the supposed passion of your life.
Inspiration comes to you like starting a fire with two simple albeit seemingly useless sticks; only after hours and hours of rubbing and thrashing and grinding, a spark is ignited in your mind and the words come flowing hours-on-end akin to the first sparks of flames prospering in the bonfire set ablaze. Most times, however, kindling fires only result in bruised and blistered palms, for your efforts prove to be futile when all you manage to run into is yet another wall.
But you chose this life, and as much of an eye-opener to the cruel reality of adulthood when all your youthful passion has been exchanged for a life of barely making ends meet, you can’t imagine a future without your arch-enemy; because somewhere along your naive adolescent years, you had willingly dedicated yourself to the wonders of literature. An aspiring writer, novelist, reporter, a journalist who documents both reality and fantasy into the eternity of ink and paper, that’s who you strive to be.
Second to the treacherous world of modern journalism falls the art of self-denial. Only in times like this, when you’re sinking in the back of your reclining, swiveling black office chair and drowning in the piles of work you know would go unnoticed by the universe and staring up into the dozens of varying shades of gray room are you forced to come to terms with the harsh truth.
Papers filing and flipping, pens scribbling all-too-roughly against innocent victims that is A4 size white sheets, printers huffing and puffing back to life, squeaky silver cabinets drawn open, whispers of the latest gossip hissing straight from the break room in the back, and the oh-so-dreadful tick of the clock’s hand hammer along to an incomprehensible symphony at the loss of a conductor until it all erupts in your throbbing head and you’re forced to storm outside in hopes for some actual peaceful silence.
Today seems to be yet another one of those uneventful days, but whether for the good or bad, the fateful offer that is soon to turn your world upside-down will be one you wish you hadn’t stumbled upon in times to come.
“Oh, Y/N!”
The first thing you see the second you step foot onto the balcony of the twenty seventh floor is the sight of your advisor, five years your senior, whirling around to face you. Never mind the shadow casted upon the entirety of the already grim looking balcony of the looming skyscraper of your company’s building behind you, because plastered all over her once fallen expression is the brightest grin you’ve seen her wear in a while.
“At least someone looks happy today,” you muse, burying your hands in the pockets of your black longline blazer and joining her by the ledge side. “So, what’s up, Solji?”
“Oh, nothing,” she cheekily smiles; the glint of sunlight lands perfectly on her fiery orange locks, as if to further reinforce the contradictory message conveyed in the raise of her cheeks.
You roll your eyes and snort, “you can’t tell me ‘oh, it’s nothing’ with a grin like that. Come on, I want to hear some good news around here for once.” With one good nudge of your elbow, your supervisor breaks into an overjoyed cackle. “What’s the real reason behind that goofy smile of yours—”
“—I’m going on a honeymoon!”
“You’re what?” you narrow your eyes at her in disbelief, ignoring her as she jumps in place and giddily claps her hand. “Why a honeymoon?”
“Well, we only have enough saved up for a honeymoon so far. I don’t think a wedding is even plausible at this point,” she pauses and puts a finger to her chin, “actually, maybe that’ll change in a month or so considering how well SS has been doing.”
You snort, “no, I meant why a honeymoon before even getting married. Your boyfriend hasn’t even proposed…” In the midst of your sentence, she raises her jazz hands and the gleaming ring wrapped around her finger is all she needs to strike you silent. “...no. way.”
“Yes way,” she coos and wiggles her brows.
“Oh my goodness!” you scream and she joins along as the both of you jump in a circle. Grabbing her hand in both of yours, you can barely contain the excitement coursing through your veins, “congratulations! I’m so so happy for you!”
“Really?” she exclaims and halts you from further prancing when she holds your hands and keeps you planted to the ground. “Enough to cover me and the SS for a day?!”
“Psh, yeah, anything for my supervisor— wait what?” you deadpan. “D-did I hear you right? Me? Write for your little project so called Spilled Secrets? Nuh-uh. I did not get a degree to write for some silly teenage targeted tabloid.”
“Hey! Don't call my baby that! It's not ‘little,’ it's a regular feature in our company's weekly magazine!” Solji huffs and crosses her arms with a pout. “Why not, Y/N? You can really get your name out there you know. It's a great opportunity! Haven't you been begging the company for that since forever?”
“Yeah, but I don't want to succeed through what is essentially and quite blatantly intruding on someone's privacy!” you shake your head and turn away from Solji’s desperate pleas surfing in her puppy-like eyes. “They might be celebrities, but they're still people. And plus, I don't want to use my writing for that. I want to be recognized for my penmanship, not my ability to scrape up any juicy info on the hottest boy group in town.”
“Oh, c’mon, you make it sound like it's so bad—” she stops mid-sentence when you glare at her out of irony “—okay, I know it's a terrible and dehumanizing thing to do, but look where it's gotten me. I have piles of work and offers lined up for me, and yes, while they all are related to some gossip write-up in one way shape or form, at least my writing is being published and actually being read by millions around the world.”
The tapping of your finger against your left arm only adds to your fuel as you sigh, “but Solji, don't you want to write something more than these… these modern, nearly incoherent lingo of paragraphs I—no, us journalists— can't even call articles? I mean, don't you at least think your writing is worth more than that?”
Solji blinks at you in silence and deep thought about how to approach you, her advisee. Finally, she sighs and begins twiddling her thumb with her elbows resting on the ledge of the balcony, “look, Y/N, I know what you’re talking about, how you’re feeling, and the situation you’re in as a novice in this industry. You’re struggling, you’re young and you’ve been dreaming of something more than this…” her brows knit as she points to the office where you had just exited, “being trapped in a corner and writing for something invisible to not only the company but also the world? That’s not the world you dreamed about, and I know because I’ve been there before, Y/N.”
“If you’re here to lecture me about your road to success because you’re five years older and five years wiser, then I think I can skip out this millionth time,” you frown and take a few steps back towards the dungeon of your cubicle, but before you can do so, Solji grabs your hands to stop you from further movement.
“Y/N, I’m telling you this because out of all of my advisees, I care about you the most and I want you to succeed!” she clears her throat when you just blink blankly at her, and you can see the desperation to get her message through your stubborn mind stirring in every motion of her body language. “I know it’s a bad thing to do, Y/N. I don’t want to dress up as a paparazzi and stick these cameras in front of celebrities’ faces, but you know I had to. Starting this entire project, SS,” she shakes her head and hunches her shoulders, “it was my last resort to finally break it into this industry. I was a young adult. I didn’t have the fiance I have now. I was crazy about the new boy group BTS, and I saw everyone else starting these tabloids on celebrities and making good money, so I thought it was perfectly okay.”
“You’re right,” you emphasize and furrow your brows. “It does make good money and you’re more well known now than you ever were without it, so why are you still relying on SS?”
“Because I have to, Y/N!” she articulates, shutting her eyes and breathing out her frustration as she squeezes warmth into your freezing hands. “I didn’t expect SS to blow up like it did, and now the company wants me to continue expanding the project so they can reap more revenue. They don’t care about their writers, Y/N, they care about money. So in times like this, the harsh reality of adulthood compels you to take things into your own matter. And as terrible as the SS is morally, it’s also been a blessing in disguise for my career.”
You don’t notice it until a cold breeze envelops you in the wrath of the winter, but your body is shivering, your feet has stopped tapping impatiently on the concrete floor, and your mind has halted for a brief moment to consider her persuasion. You completely understand her point of view and why she had to do the things she did just to be able to pay her rent and continue working in an industry which ignored her talents, but you don’t want to utilize your writing for the immoral ethics surrounding the entire foundation of the project. The boys deserve better and so do you.
After ten dreadful minutes of deafening silence, Solji pulls you by your hand and tilts her head to the side to get a better view of your contemplating eyes glued to the ground, “if not to get your name out there in the writing industry, then at least do it for me. You can use a pen name if you really want.”
“I don’t know…”
Solji sighs after seeing your hesitation, “I don’t want to hurt you when I say this, Y/N, but, well, how are things going on your side right now?”
If you were being honest with yourself, you know you’re at an all-time low. The amount of views on the short stories your company only allows you to publish deep in the vast, elaborate website of theirs is barely enough to meet your monthly requirements, not to mention how disheartening and damaging it is to your motivation to even continue writing, so there isn’t much you can argue against your supervisor on this topic. Sheepishly, you turn your head to the side and lower your eyes in shame.
“I don’t get it,” you shake your head and cinch your brows, “why don’t you just request a day off from your boss?”
Your supervisor takes a deep breath and exhales in one loud huff, turning around to look out into the distance, “he hasn’t allowed me to take a day off except for holidays ever since SS took off, and he definitely won’t agree today now that BTS is holding the grand premiere to their documentary tonight...”
The look in her eyes as she searches for a meaning behind all that she’s given up, her morals behind invading others’ privacy, her sleep made evident in her eye bags, and now maybe even the love of her life strikes all too familiar with you.
After all the times Solji has pulled through to help you, can you really turn a blind eye to her now? She’s just asking for this one day off, this one request from her advisee, which she isn’t even required to ask when can order, but the world seems to deny her of the one time in five years since she’s prioritized herself over others. Plus, she’s right; you can use a pseudonym if you really think this is morally incorrect and want to make a name out of yourself based solely on your talents.
“...okay, just this once, right?” you barely manage to mutter.
“Huh?” her ears perk and her head turns to reveal her widened eyes stuck in disbelief.
You take a deep breath and sigh, crossing your arms and raising your voice, “I said fine. I’ll do this for you.”
“Really?!” she shrieks and ecstatically brings you into a bear hug before pulling back to grin at you from cheek to cheek. “I knew I could always count on my best advisee!”
“But it’s a one time thing!” you warn her with raised brows.
“Of course, of course. I wouldn’t want to drag you into this corrupted side of the industry anyways,” she smiles, but her words tug at your heartstrings, for the reality of the world and the gap in naivety between the youth and the experienced is made all too apparent underneath a simple sentence. Solji digs into the pockets of her cardigan to grab her keys and starts mumbling about the hectic schedule she has in plans for you, “okay, so the premiere starts at around 7 tonight. Make sure you arrive an hour early before the other swarm of reporters arrive. I’ll just hand you my DSLR and a few pictures of the boys from my car.”
“Pictures of the boys?” you question.
“Well, if you’re going to do this job for me, you have to at least know who you’re taking pictures of, right?” she laughs and strides back towards the office. You watch each one of her steps drown you in deeper waters of trouble you just know you had signed up for before she slides open the glass door and calls out over her shoulder, “oh, also, remember to update my blog along with writing up an article for the SS! I’ll text you the username and password.”
You nod your head and give her an ‘okay’ signal with your right hand—a circle shaped by your thumb and forefinger and three raised remainder of your fingers.
She laughs at your reluctance, “have you decided to undergo a pseudonym?”
“Yeah,” you nod without further thought.
She arches her brow, prompting you to elaborate, “and may I know who this new persona might be, Ms. Y/L/N?”
The whistle of the winter wind brushing your hair across your cheeks and blinding you for a momentary second as you spot your supervisor’s bright orange ponytail swaying along with nature like she does with society.
“Ink Nemesis,” you utter before speaking up, “I’ll be going under the name of Ink Nemesis.”
Solji frowns and tilts her head to the side, “hm, I don’t think I’ve heard a pen name with such dark undertones like that, especially not in tabloids… but, fair enough. Stay right there, I’ll be back with all the things you’ll be needing tonight!”
“Okay,” you nod and give her small wave for a momentary parting.
She takes one step into the building but ends up turning around to assure you once more considering how worried of a mother-like figure she has always been to you. She smiles and puts a hand to her hip.
“Welcome aboard, Ink Nemesis.”
-
RISE TO FAME GRAND PREMIERE
Those are the first words you see plastered in large font cursive across the extravagant three story venue. Cream colored Roman columns lined the marble floored halls along with the railings of wide, more than spacious stairs with a red carpet rolled out to direct incoming spectators into the venue coming straight out of a fairy tale. Stepping out of your car, it’s impossible to stop yourself from staring at the lit up billboard towering above those below and hoisted high up in the sky to hang from the railings of the third floor balconies.
It didn’t occur to you until now just how popular the boys of Bangtan had gotten, and you know part of that reason is thanks to Solji’s project. As immoral as the SS can be, it was one of the first tabloids dedicated to the boys when they weren’t as popular as they are now. Similar to a symbiotic relationship between two specimens striving to survive in the harsh world of business, both the SS and the boys had prospered with the help of the other. And even though you don’t condone the actions of the SS and had never participated in the building of the Bangtan Boys’ success, you can’t help but exude of pride for both Solji and the boys.
The only thing that manages to retract you from your reverie is the sour, acidic sensation coming from your overfilled bladder. Maybe you shouldn’t have drank as much water as you did out of nerves; nonetheless, all that is said and done cannot be reversed, so you trudge your way forward into the venue. Solji had informed you the venue would be closed even minutes prior to the opening of the premiere and the caution sign taped across the grand entrance only proved her years of experience; but you didn’t care if they banned you, it’s not like you’d ever be coming back anyways, so never minding the rules, you duck underneath the tape and slip past the towering sleek black doors.
Dozens of stairs present themselves to you as you roam across the peach marble tiles lining the floor reflecting the light of crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and the longer and deeper you delve into the maze of the venue, the more you find yourself lost like a child without their parents. The pain of holding the calls of nature only pushes you farther into the building, but the few passersby whom you presume to be the security guards only worsens your situation as you’re forced to hide behind a human-sized pot of indoor Christmas trees.
After a few seconds of waiting and peeking to check if the coast is clear, you stumble out from under the corner of the stairs and continue trudging on in search for a restroom. You don’t think things could go any worse than this, but a dreadful minute passes before the eerie silence gets to you and shivers run down your spine when you sense a cold presence following you from behind. You can’t hear their footsteps—they’re as soft and nimble as ever—but you know you aren’t going crazy; it’s as if there’s something connecting the two of you that fate compels you to trust the gut instinct in you to quicken your pace—
“—hey,” a cold, small hand firmly grips onto your shoulder and you nearly have a heart attack. Raspy, deep, sharp-edged, and unamused, the voice most certainly belongs to a man. Being caught red-handed is already enough to cause you to faint, but being caught by someone as intimidating as him? You think you’re hallucinating when he continues to speak sternly. “You’re not supposed to be in here right now.”
“...I know,” you can barely manage to squeak.
His hand drops from your shoulder and he lets out a soft sigh, “are you lost?”
You gulp and attempt to speak, but for some reason the pounding sensation against your constricted chest prevents you from doing so.
The man clears his throat after a few seconds of silence, “look, I’m not supposed to be helping you right now and my manager is probably looking for me, but I couldn’t turn a blind eye on someone wandering around like a lost Holly.”
Holly? Your brows scrunch in confusion, but you figure it must have been this man’s girlfriend or relative. Hesitantly turning around, you peer up at the figure behind you. Surprisingly, you don’t have to crane your neck too far because the rather average heighted man appears to be of similar age to you. Swift blond hair, soft lips and fair-skinned, slim dark eyes, silver and black tuxedo draped over his relatively petite figure, and a hard, serious expression years beyond his age, you’re struck in silent awe at the mystical figure standing before you.
“What?” the man quirks a brow at your ogling eyes.
“Oh, uh… nothing,” you stammer before mumbling to yourself, “I just thought you really look like a celebrity.”
The man presses his lips into a down-turned curve, softening his cheeks and sharp chin as he shrugs with his hands raised on either side and his eyes shut in agreement; it’s as if he’s heard your remark all too many times. “So how can I help you?”
“O-Oh,” you stutter and clear your throat before straightening your craned posture, “I didn’t mean to trespass…”
“...Min,” he flatly clarifies, “Min Yoongi.”
Something about his name strikes you as familiar, but you can’t quite put a finger on it.
“Right, Mr. Min. I was just looking for a restroom.”
“Ah… the women’s restroom I presume?” he asks and you nod. Scratching the back of his head, he purses his soft, thin lips, and you can’t help but struggle deciding whether this man is someone you should be intimidated of. “I think the upper two floors are still being cleaned at the moment, you probably don’t want to go up there if you want to stay out of trouble.”
“Oh…” you say in loss for hope. “Is there one on this floor?”
“Mm,” he lowly hums for a split second, eyes on the ground and in thought. “I’m not sure where the ladies’ washroom is on this floor…”
“Oh, that’s totally fine,” you quickly blurt and his slightly widened eyes dart up to look at you. “It’s my fault for not knowing.”
He blinks blankly at you for a few seconds, and you wonder if he even understood what you just said. “No, it’s okay,” he finally answers. “This venue is big. The boys would’ve gotten lost too if I hadn’t downloaded a map. Here, let me check—”
“—no! It’s okay!” you exclaim, stopping his hands from checking his phone after pulling it out; it’s completely irrelevant to you, but you can’t help but notice how warm his hands are contrary to his entire mien. “I’m sorry for bothering you, Mr. Min. You’ve been more than enough help. Thanks for not reporting me. I’ll just find it myself.”
“...are you sure?” he says without further movement; it’s as if he doesn’t bother to waste an ounce of energy on unnecessary motions.
“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” you give him two thumbs up, and without wasting another second, you stride off into the other direction.
“Hey!” Yoongi calls out to you in the midst of laughs, and your ears perk at the pleasantly surprising warmth radiating from his childlike yet bass-resounding chuckle—the first time you’ve heard him laugh or even flash a hint of emotion. Looking over your shoulder, you find him walking towards you with a gummy smile on the softened features of his expression, “where do you think you’re going? You’re walking right into the men’s restroom.”
“What, huh?” you utter with raised brows. Surely enough, the second you turn around, you find yourself a foot away from entering the men’s washroom with a blue circular plaque with the white stick figure of a man plastered over it.
“You know what? I’ll just bring you to the VIP restroom,” Yoongi remarks, his voice settling down from his laugh into newfound determination as he grabs your wrist and pulls you before you can protest.
The pressing need in your overfilled ducts prevent you from pulling away, for you silently follow behind him as he pulls you along; there’s nothing so special about this very moment, and maybe it’s the extravagance and lavishness of the interior venue, but there’s something so entrancing about this interaction that all you can see is the black tunnel forming around the back of this seemingly intimidating albeit strikingly warm stranger. His shoulders are surprisingly broader than you had imagined, and his blond locks definitely appear softer than they had when you first saw them.
“Uh…” the mysterious man utters and snaps you out of your trance. He releases your hand and hooks his right hand around the nape of his neck, “I don’t have the keys to the women’s washroom, so you’re going to have to use the men’s.”
“What—”
“—but don’t worry,” he quickly adds, holding his hands up before him. “I made sure no one’s in there, and I’ll even stand outside to stop anyone from entering.”
Every hiss of his s’s sends tingles down to your growing need. It’s impossible. You can’t hold it in anymore. Nodding your head, you hastily barge into the unlocked restroom and shut it locked and closed behind you. Then you rush to the toilet, pull down your pants, and plop yourself down—until suddenly, a chilling fear crashes over you.
The silence is overbearingly loud.
There’s no way he won’t be able to hear you as you, a woman he’s only just met, executes what every man presumed women are incapable of.
“Are you done?” Yoongi calls out to you from outside.
“Um…” you say weakly, voice trembling and heart pounding.
To spare your dignity or not? It’s not like you’re even interested in this guy, nor are you ever going to cross paths with him again, so why are you being so hesitant?
“What’s wrong?” you can hear the concern in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“I’m… I’m fine,” you stammer and clear your throat. “Can you just—just sing!”
“Sing?” he emphasizes. “Why? You do know I only rap, right?”
“Just do it!” you shut your eyes and place your cold hands over your burning cheeks in a futile attempt to cool your embarrassment down.
He chuckles in disbelief, “you’re… you’re joking right? Just pee! I’m not going to listen and it’s not like I even care—”
“—just please sing!”
“Okay, okay, you asked for it…” he mumbles.
You’re not sure whether you should be thankful for his agreement, because the next thing you know, your ears are piercing and your entire body is wincing from the pitchy sounds coming out from his screaming; you can’t even tell if he’s going off pitch on purpose or not, because he sounds like he’s trying even while resembling the yells of a child.
“Min Yoongi is a good, good boy,” he chants to the tune of a nursery rhyme, “the rest of them are bad, bad boys.”
This man standing outside of the restroom door truly is the epitome of the duality of mankind, but at least you got to get the job done without further self-embarrassment and more so second-hand.
“I’m done—”
—you stop mid-sentence the second you step out of the restroom and find him swinging his bent arms and speed walking up and down the halls like a grandpa on his morning jog. Clearly, he's enjoying his own concert all too much. And as odd of a dance move you presume he's attempting, you can't help but find this side of him strangely as cute as a button.
“I’m done,” you raise your voice, “you can stop now.”
Yoongi turns around to find you, arms plopping back to his side, back straightening, and lips returning to its grim origins, and his entire cool mien returns within the blink of an eye. “Oh, I see,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he lowers his head.
You snort and pat his arm before walking back the way you two had came from, “well, thanks so much for all the help, Mr. Min. I hope you enjoy the show!”
Yoongi nods in silence, glancing up from the ground to give you a small wave…
...but it isn’t until you exit the venue that you realize the irony of your remark.
Yoongi is a part of the show.
How did you not recognize him? How did it not click to you that someone as strikingly handsome as him couldn’t be anything but a celebrity? You could’ve snapped a picture or two, maybe get an exclusive interview, or even snap a few picture of the VIP restroom if you must. It had to have been your bladder distracting you. It has to be. No one as dumb as you gets that close to a boy of BTS and not scream out of thrill; but maybe that’s the exact and only reason he decided to help you in the first place.
A loud sigh of frustration leaves your lips as you seat yourself on the marble bench outside of the venue and under a tree. The winter proves to be a nature deserving of respect as the heat of your breath comes out in visible puffs and your body shivers despite the abundance of scarves and layers wrapped around you.
A few whispers of chattering piques your attention when you look off to your left to find an empty street where you expected incoming news reporters before looking off to your right and craning your neck to find two figures standing in the balcony above you.
No way.
Your jaw drops when your eyes land on the all so familiar figure of Min Yoongi… with a less familiar girl in front of him. With the back of her red skin-tight dress against the balcony, you’re forced to crawl your way over to the tree to get a better view. Channeling your inner Solji, something tells you this is a sight you can’t miss—not unless you want to be scolded for months on end by your supervisor. Luckily, you had already grabbed your DSLR from your car and hung it around your neck; grabbing it into your quivering hands, you look through the lenses to zoom in and snap a few pictures.
There’s no doubt about it. Nothing gnaws at your conscience more than invading someone’s privacy, especially not someone who had just gone out of their way to help you. Nevertheless, the incident which plays out before you manages to capture more than the attention of your camera.
Yoongi appears to be arguing with the woman. A displacement frown written all over his face and a body language failing to reciprocate hers, as if to signal the other he could care less what she says, the familiar man scoffs and turns his head away. With her arms out on either side, the girl appears to be begging him or attempting to persuade him of something, until the next thing you know, her hands grab ahold of either side of his cheeks to bring him into a kiss. A few seconds pass before the stone cold look on his face melts and the affections are no longer one-sided.
Quickly snapping a picture or two, your mind goes blank, your camera falls and sways back against your stomach, your mouth gapes wide open, and you immediately turn away from the intimate moment. You don’t know why you were feeling this way, a slight stab of your chest after seeing a man you can’t help but find strangely charming kissing another woman, but you do know none of this should be your business in the first place.
You and Yoongi are merely acquaintances—in fact, he’s a celebrity and you’re a paparazzi spying on his whereabouts. Who are you to wish you were in that woman’s shoes?
Hastily checking the pictures you had managed to take in the spur of the moment, the blurriness of over half the images render a sigh from you and your novice-like photos. Truly, Solji must be an expert at this. You’re not meant for this type of work. Nonetheless, at least there are two pictures as clear as crystal. One of Yoongi and the woman in the midst of the intimate moment—which never fails to bring a gut wrenching and twisting sensation of your conscience—and one zoomed in on the woman’s face. Releasing your camera and rubbing your throbbing temples, you skimper your way back to the parking lot only to pace back and in an attempt to get your mind off the situation.
Ultimately, this line of work proves to be out of your reach when you decide not to release these two specific photos; you don’t know why you feel this sense of loyalty to this man, but you just can’t betray someone who had helped you out.
“Hey! Are you here for some inside scoops, as well? Did you manage to get any photos?”
A squeaky albeit oddly soothing voice captures your attention when you whirl around to find a girl skipping to you.
“Uh,” you furrow your brows and recall your decision, “no.”
“No way,” she muses. “The worry written all over your face tells me otherwise.”
Damn it, she’s clever. Everything about her screams at you that she’s quick to catch on; blunt bangs, long, sleek black hair tied into a half ponytail, and voice friendly yet witty in its on way. Don’t worry, two can play at that game.
“Well, yeah, that’s the problem…” you mumble and rub your left elbow. “I only managed to get this random picture of a girl on the balcony.”
Lifting your camera, you only show her the zoomed in picture of the woman where Yoongi remains out of sight. Maybe you can get some information out of her.
Surely enough, the girl cocks her head and purses her lips, “oh? She looks like the daughter of my company’s CEO!”
Why would Yoongi, a member of the BTS, be hanging out with the daughter of a CEO? Not to mention being in a relationship with her? Coincidence or not, you decide to keep the second photo a secret.
“Really?” you clear your throat. “Oh, I mean, of course. I knew that.”
The girl simply laughs and holds her hand out for you to shake, which the instinctive business woman in you obliged to take. “Yeah, that picture isn’t going to do you any good. Dozens of big companies are out here looking for partnership with the boys. Think about it this way, if even I’m here right now, then I wouldn’t be surprised to find her here,” she flashes a smile at you. “Anyways, I haven’t seen you around before. What’s your name?”
“Y/N. And your’s?”
“Xiao Lin. Xiao as in small, and Lin as in forest. You can just call me Lin, though,” she grins once again to reveal the crescent shape of her eyes, and you can’t help but stare at her in awe; as her name has it, she truly is as strikingly beautiful as the forest. “I work for the Star’s magazine. I haven’t seen many people around my age like you, so I hope we can get along! Let’s exchange numbers!”
She talks way too fast for you to catch up, so you simply nod. After getting your number and sending you a quick text, she waves you goodbye—claiming she has some important business to get to—before skipping off in the opposite direction. Within the next minute of blur, you’re left alone in the parking lot once again.
This industry really moves all too fast for you to catch up.
Figuring there’s nothing left for you to—as Lin likes to say—’scoop,’ you decide to scout out the area by ducking under all the caution tapes lining the sides of the venue. While other reporters would be staring at you with wary eyes as you trespassed and trampled on all the laws you’re probably breaking, you venture farther into the closed venue without further thought; maybe you really are a paparazzi to be feared.
Turning the corner is like turning to the sight fate had planned for you all along, because the first thing—or rather, person—you land your eyes on takes your breath away.
You shouldn’t even be surprised at this point to find Yoongi walking with the other six members of his group towards the back entrance of the venue. Bright cool light from inside the venue floods onto the boys and the ground, and it clicks to you that this would be a jaw-dropping picture to take. Figuring you had already spared Yoongi of his last potentially scandal inducing photo, this would be enough to make up for it. You can’t go home empty handed, after all.
Lifting the camera and squinting your eyes through the viewfinder, the camera shakes in your unsteady hands as your limited field of sight rocks side to side like the waves of an ocean at night. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally muster enough courage to press down on the shutter button.
The boys immediately stop in the midst of their footsteps.
They look your way.
Your heart panics as it hammers against your chest without mercy.
Your stomach drops.
The dozens of shutter sounds you had forgotten to turn off had resonated throughout the silence of the cricket-chirping filled night and captured the attention of your victims.
You hear Yoongi sigh and you can see him storming your way in the viewfinder, despite the protests of the boys, and you’re too scared to remove the camera from covering your face like a mask. What would he say when he found out what you were doing? Would he be disappointed? Why do you even care in the first place?
“Sorry, but no cameras are allowed here,” he sternly says, gritting his teeth and burying his hands in his pockets. After a few seconds of silence, Yoongi scoffs. “I said no cameras are allowed.”
Slowly removing the camera from your face and immediately ducking your head, you mumble, “oh, sorry… I, uh, didn’t mean to—”
“—look,” he clicks his tongue and shuffles in place, shifting his weight from one leg to another and turning his head to the other direction. You don’t know what’s gotten into him, but everything from his posure to his diction scares you. He’s more intimidating than he ever was when you first met him. “I don’t have the time nor am I in the mood for this, so can you please just delete the picture now.”
“Um…”
If you showed him the list of pictures you had taken, then there really is no way to patch little of what relations you have with him when he sees the pictures of him and the woman from before; and it’s not like you really care that much if he thinks badly of you, it’s more so that even you want to spare yourself the pang of guilt for invading someone’s privacy in the first place.
“Yoongi,” someone says, walking up to place a hand on his shoulder. You peek up through the strands of the strands of hair untucked from behind your ear to find whom you believe to be Namjoon nodding at the swarm of incoming reporters off in the distance. “It won't be good if they think we’re giving her special treatment.”
Yoongi groans and turns to find you taken aback by his sudden move, the both of you staring into each other’s widening eyes in sudden recognition. “You…? What? Why?”
“I—”
“—just come with us for now,” he sighs, grabbing your hand and pulling you as you jolt forward at the sudden change of pace.
-
Yoongi and the boys escort—or more accurately, drag—you to the backstage of their venue. Aside from filled clothing racks and vanity mirrors, the chic black carpeted room is relatively emptier than you expected. The six boys begin filing in one by one whereas Yoongi immediately plops to one of the black leather couches seated in the center. Hands fumbling with your camera, your timid eyes alternate between the unamused stoic glare on Yoongi’s face and the boys’ helpless shrugs and shifty eyes. The silence is all too deafening until you realize this is probably your cue to take a seat for further interrogation; and so, reluctantly, you trudge onwards into the dangers of Yoongi’s cold, threatening gaze which follows you as you make your way to the matching black leather couch right across from him.
“So,” he finally breaks the silence, sitting forward and folding his hands in his lap. In any situation other than this, you would've found the cold color of his blood drained gaze and the popping veins of his slender albeit rough looking hands rather enticing, but tonight it only brought goosebumps to you all the more. “Explain yourself.”
The piercing stare of his startles you as you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Averting your line of sight away from him and to the carpet, you hook one hand over your left elbow and attempt to control your hitched breathing. You had forgotten how silent he could be, especially in times of strife, for the tick of the clock is all that you hear as he patiently waits for an answer.
You know you're in the wrong, but why do you of all times have to be the unlucky one who's caught? It's not like you even wanted to come here in the first place. Just reevaluating your life choices and regrets brings heat to your cheeks as you grit your teeth and lower your head in shame. How're you supposed to explain yourself? What does he even want to hear? You broke the rules and snapped a few pictures of him; plain and simple. Simply bumping into him an hour prior doesn't make you two buddies, so what does he mean by explaining yourself?
The boys standing in the back of the room glance at each other like deers caught in the headlight before suddenly announcing, “we actually forgot to check our mics for tonight's show, so uh, we'll be back guys!”
No, no, please don't leave me alone with him, you chant in your head and attempt to convey through desperate eyes. Unfortunately for you, each one of the boys avoid both you and Yoongi’s gaze as they hastily shuffle out of the room.
Boom; the door slams closed and the silence ensues. It's just the two of you; you and Yoongi, and there's nothing stopping him from scolding you about things you already know you're ashamed of—
“—hey, I'm sorry if I'm being too harsh on you,” Yoongi’s apology snaps you out of your nightmare. He shakes his folded hands as if to reiterate his message before looking straight at your widened eyes, “the boys and I have been dealing with shitty paparazzis or news reporters or whatever they call themselves lately.”
“Oh no,” you quickly interject and shake your head. “I should be the one apologizing right now.”
Yoongi quirks a brow at the sudden confession you had been so reluctant to give just a few seconds ago and softly chortles, “yeah, but I was especially harsh to you out there. I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you.”
What does being you have to do with anything? Just because you two happen to have some sort of what you can barely call a connection? You wish he would stop proving you wrong like this, treating you more kindly than his cold front lets off to be, because it only makes you feel all the more guilty.
“It's… okay,” you meekly say, sheepishly averting your eyes to the ground. Why is he the one apologizing? You're the one trying to make a profit out of his basic human rights. “I'm… sorry… for taking those pictures when I shouldn't have.”
Yoongi chuckles, shifting in his seat before leaning in once again. You haven't noticed until now how attentive of a man he is. “I sure hope you were actually looking for a restroom and not taking advantage of me earlier—”
“—oh no!” you blurt out and profusely shake your head. You don't know why you're trying to clear any misconceptions he has of you when there's no chances of you two meeting again. “I really… actually needed a restroom. So… thank you… for that.”
He only shakes his head, as though to tell you it isn’t a big deal.
“So…” his intent gaze never budget from your timid ones. “You're a paparazzi? Or are you a paparazzi in training? Because from what I see, you're quite inexperienced.”
“Oh, I'm…” your voice trails off as you ponder over just how much you can reveal. There's no harm in telling him the truth, is there? At least not when you've already been caught red-handed. “I'm not usually in this… line of work…? Someone gave me this camera and asked me to step in for them…” Yoongi slowly nods with the quirk of a brow and frowning lips as you continue to fumble around with the camera hanging from your neck. “Yeah, I'm not really a fan—I mean, you boys are great and all—but you don't have to worry about me taking advantage of you guys.”
He nods, and you can't help but notice how the downturn of his pressed lips soften the usual edges of his jawline. “And what company do you work for?”
“Um…” you drawl before quickly blurting, “Stars Magazine.”
Sorry Lin.
“Figures,” he shrugs. “They always go to extreme lengths to write their disgusting ‘articles' on.”
“...what kind of extreme lengths?”
He takes a few seconds to answer, “things like hiding in our closets.”
“Oh, that's absolutely terrible,” you frown, scrunching your nose. As sly as paparazzi can be, you can't exactly imagine Lin carrying out things like that. You look up to find Yoongi nodding his head with raised, knitted brows, as if to point out the irony in you demeaning the company you supposedly work for. Shaking your head and raising your hands, you immediately retort, “but they're just my boss! I don't agree with the things they do to you guys at all.”
Yoongi presses his lips into a thin line and nods, finally reclining his back against the couch only to cross one leg over the other and fold his hands over his knees once again. “If this isn't the line of work you're usually in, then what do you usually do?”
“I'm a journalist,” you explain, “and an aspiring writer; I write short stories on the side at times… though they're not exactly doing well.”
He quirks a brow, “oh? So is this your last attempt to appease your employers?”
Ouch. He's rather curt with his words, but in a way, it's the harsh truth.
Nibbling your bottom lip, you break eye contact to stare at the ground in loss of dignity. “...yeah. Hard for you to relate to, huh?”
“Actually, no,” he slightly cocks his head and cinches his brows with a half-smile half-frown. “I see you really aren't a fan. The boys and I actually came from the very bottom of this industry. Our agency wasn't well known at all, so we didn't get the head start most groups get under their agencies.”
“That must’ve been tough…”
He nods, eyes lowering to the ground as he reminisces. “Yeah, it was hard to get by, we could barely survive off of the money we were making; in fact, sometimes I even wanted to quit,” he chuckles and shakes his head before looking straight at you, nearly causing you to flinch. The voice filled with sincerity and the message of sympathy that comes from the depth of his heart resonates in this one gaze of his, and for a short minute, you feel like you’re swimming in the warmth of the ocean in the middle of winter that is his eyes. “But I’m glad I didn’t. People recognize talent. Music transcends all corruption in this industry. Unfortunately, the world you’re living in right now once was the only world I ever knew, but you’ll get through it. I promise. Your talent will be recognized.”
His words—no, it’s his voice that tugs at your heartstrings right this moment. How could someone so successful, talented, and acknowledged understand you to such a level? Anyone at his level of fame would lose all traces of humility; so who is this person sitting right before you? Him giving up his words, his time, and his own dignity to reach out to a person like you? A mere stranger? There isn’t a single person you’ve met in this industry like him. For once in several years, you actually feel like you’re not alone.
The wonders of his words strikes you to the point of silence, lost in a reverie, until he clears his throat after checking the watch on his right wrist. Standing up and offering you a helping hand, he presses his lips into a small smile, “the show is about to start soon, so unfortunately I have to get the both of us going.”
Walking down the halls, Yoongi escorts you out of the back exit of the venue and into the ice cold wrath of the winter. Other than the clicking of your heels and his dress shoes, the silence of the night shared between the two of you is oddly soothing. You want to say something to fill the silence, but at the same time you don’t in fear of breaking this precious mystical moment.
After walking you down to the end of the hall near the parking lot, Yoongi stops in the midst of his tracks and retracts his hands from his pockets. You raise a brow at him and he just chuckles, “I don’t think we’re ever going to meet again, but I’d still like to know your name and I don’t think I ever got it.”
“Me?” you emphasize and he just nods. Is a celebrity asking for your name? “Y/L/N. Ms. Y/L/N.”
“No,” he deadpans. “Your first name, and if we do ever meet again, quit calling me Mr. Min.”
You try to suppress your smile by biting your bottom lip, “I’m Y/N.”
“Well, Y/N,” he grabs your hand dangling by your side and firmly shakes it in midair, “I guess this is farewell. Also, you can keep the picture.”
“What? Why?” you protest. “I’ll even delete it in front of you if you want!”
He shakes his head, “it’s not a big deal. I only lashed out at you because I was in a bad mood. If a simple picture like that can help save one career—your career—then I’m more than happy to risk mine.”
Ah. Did your heart just skip or did you just forget to breathe?
“Oh…” you mumble, smiling at the ground, “okay then—”
“—Min Yoongi!”
“Mr. Min!”
“Look over here!”
Out of the blue, you hear yells roaring down from the ends of the street as the both of you dart your attention to the swarm of people dressed in black running towards the venue. Some carried bright white lights that flashed and blinked as their partners continuously snapped photos of the two of you as they sprinted their way over, forcing the both of you to raise your hands above your heads and cast shadows upon your squinting eyes.
“Fucking hell, of all times,” you hear Yoongi curse under his breath.
The next thing you know, microphones are being shoved into your face, people invading your personal bubble, crowds surrounding you from all sides and encircling the both of you as they continue to scream incoherent questions phrased like orders at you.
Are you, the supposed paparazzi, being ambushed by other paparazzi?
The flash of the lights and yells of their voices spanning from all ages and genders begin to blur and you think you’re about to pass out until Yoongi places his hand on your left arm to push you protectively behind him.
Ah, even at times like this, you can’t help but gaze at Yoongi in awe. He would’ve been a fine man to chase if he weren’t a celebrity. Too bad you’re just a struggling, broken journalist while he’s the entire world’s dominating heartthrob.
“We just saw you two at the front of the venue half an hour ago!” one woman says.
“Is this an under the desk deal?” another man questions.
“Are you working with another company under the public’s radar? Is your success thanks to these deals made behind our backs?!” a woman shrieks, pushing a microphone into Yoongi’s unamused face.
“Or are you giving her exclusive interviews? And why her?”
“Is she a fan? Are you taking advantage of your fans? Sleeping and discarding them as you like?”
In sudden distraught, Yoongi groans and speaks through gritted teeth so softly that the entire crowd hushes to silence aside from the shutter sounds of their DSLRs. “The boys and I aren’t working with any other agencies except BigHit. We’re making our way up the industry fair and square based on our efforts, talents, and fans who have recognized us for those alone. We would never take advantage of them.”
“Then who is she?” they quickly retort. “And why is she leaving with you alone from the back?”
Peering up to glance at Yoongi, you find him squinting at the man who had asked the question. On the plaque of his microphone writes “BIGHIT ENTERTAINMENT” in large letters. He groans loudly and curses under his breath something about “so this is what you want Bang PD,” before raising his voice, “her?”
Even at a time like this, you can’t help but sigh in disappointment for being unable to help him in times of strife. Moments like these make you realize how distant your world remains from him. Lost in your trance, you come to acknowledge how unworthy you are, especially when you recall the woman on the balcony he must have been in a relationship with.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, Y/N,” he turns around to mumble something quietly to you before grabbing your hand in his, pulling you forward by his side, raising your entangled hands where everyone could see and declares, “she’s my girlfriend.”
The entire universe didn't know it then, but those three words had opened the gates to your grand entree as you take the world and media by storm.
The first ink of your story has only just been blotted.
#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#yoongi scenarios#bts x reader#bangtan bookclub#ot7network#suga x you#suga x reader#yoongi angst#yoongi fluff#bts imagines#suga angst#suga fluff#bts x you#bts fanfic#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#taechubs
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Helene Aquilla: Observations
So, a disclaimer: I haven’t gotten around to the newest book BUT that’s been because I’ve been re-reading the first ones before diving into it! After knowing what happens in Torch, I’ve found myself listening and looking for things - foreshadowing - in Ember that Sabaa Tahir put there to hint to us what’s gonna happen. I keep finding myself drawn to Hel so I wanted to put forth a few observations that I had missed the first time around. I’ve posted a bit in the past about how Hel and Laia are foils (something I still firmly believe) and I talked about how they approach life, but I wanted to touch a bit here on who Helene Aquilla is.
When first introduced to Hel, we are shown her exclusively through Elias’ eyes. She is, as he puts in at one point, everything to him. They became friends the very first week they were in Blackcliff. Poor, starving little first years who had been stripped from their families (Hel, willingly and Elias not so much) and they have been the key to each other’s survival ever since. They stick together like glue, even when they are Fivers and sent out into the world for a year. She’s saved his life as many times as he has her’s and to Elias, she’s almost an extension of him. This view of her isn’t complete and Elias learns this throughout the book. Her character becomes more than just Elias’ best friend - she is a citizen, a soldier, and most importantly a woman.
Let’s start with the citizen. Helene is born a citizen of the Martial Empire - and not just a citizen, she is part of the upper class. She was born into a family whose motto is “Always Loyal” - something that she takes 100% to heart. She fully believes in the greatness of the Martials. They are the military might of the land and thus deserve everything they have. The Scholars have been conquered and therefore deserve to be ruled, deserve to be enslaved. She refers to Laia as the Commandant's property and I fully believe that if Elias hadn’t been so disgusted with her when Hel initially refused to aid Laia after Marcus almost beat her to death, she wouldn’t have. She isn’t heartless, she does believe that they deserve more food and some better homes, but slavery and Martial rule are unquestionably justified to her.
This loyalty to the Empire naturally leads to her identity as a soldier. Out of all the women in the Empire, she was chosen as the one from her generation to become a Mask. She believes it is a great honor even though she is isolated from her family. She doesn’t question the rules of Blackcliff even when a child is beaten to death for trying to leave. He was a deserter and it is the law for deserters to die. Even when forced by the Augurs to kill her friends and to try to kill Elias, the man she loves, she doesn’t regret her actions. Her friends, many of which died by her hand or her order, died as soldiers and did so for the good of the Empires. She honors and mourns them as soldiers, as I’m sure she would want to be as well. She embraces who she is, leans into it, and finds her own sense of freedom within the confines of being a Mask.
It is these two parts of Hel that cause problems as she comes into the third part of herself: being a woman. In particular her attraction to Elias. I believe that Elias chooses to be willfully ignorant of Hel’s attraction to him, especially throughout the events of Ember. She is such a major part of him and her friendship means so much to him that he doesn’t want it to change. On some level, she knows this and hides this from him but it all comes to a head when she believes that her feelings might actually be returned. It, however, becomes clear that her feelings are not going to be returned (I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me Hel/Elias shippers!!) Elias constantly refers to her beauty and his physical attraction to her, but her identities as citizen and soldier run so contradictory to the core of who he is that he could never love her the way she wants him to. That isn’t to say he doesn’t love her, it is blatantly obvious that he does, but her view of the Empire, of the Scholars, of Martial superiority, of freedom, will keep him from giving her his heart in that way. (Now all of this could be wrong given what happens in the third book, but this is just how I feel after re-reading AEITA).
Given that this is core of Helene Aquilla - citizen, soldier, woman - it’s really not a surprise that things turn out the way they do for her Torch. In the first book she struggles with what it means to be a woman, but in the second her identity as a citizen and a soldier also come into question. But I’ll get to that once I’ve had a chance to devour the second book.
It is this complexity, this struggle that is the core of Hel’s character that I love so much. Elias and Laia don’t have a struggle like this. Laia grows more how traditional heroines grow - coming into the hero role and her own inner strength - and Elias knows who he is but struggles with his place in life. These are both interesting in their own rights (and I’ll probably do an in-depth post on each of them later on) but Hel’s breakdown is just so good, I can’t help but love all the layers!
#helene aquilla#aeita#character analysis#complex characters are fun#badass women#I just really love Hel
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Sunnybrooke Task 003 - Q&As
What is their greatest weakness?
She lacks an inner strength and determination. Or rather, while she has physical strength and speed in spades, Elizabeth has infinitely less mental and emotional resilience. Some people make the mistake of thinking that it must take an enormous amount of grit and tenacity to survive for as long as she has---even as a vampire. But there is a big difference between strength and imperviousness. Substances that are impervious to damage don’t need to be strong.
People with real resilience get through life because they can take a beating. Because it doesn’t matter how many times they are hurt, or betrayed, or get smacked down---without fail, they always get back up and carry the fuck on. Liz, on the other hand, has largely gotten through life by avoiding getting smacked down altogether. It’s clever, but it flies in the face of everything that is integrity and great strength of character. And it means that when she does get hurt, which she has, it changes her. And usually not for the better.
What is their greatest strength?
She is intelligent and adaptable, and when it comes to manipulating people and events in her favour, she is somewhere between a highly skilled chess master and a natural talent. On one hand, she has proven herself to be a great strategist and regularly displays the ability to think several steps ahead of the people around her. On the other hand, there is an aspect to the ease and the flair with which she does what she does that simply can’t be taught. You have to be born with it. And Elizabeth was born with it.
It was more apparent back when she was running big, elaborate cons and having the time of her life, not wrangling a coven of vampires and convincing border guards to share files on incoming residents with her; but once upon a time, the brunette truly put the art in con artist. Her crimes were enjoyable, delightful and a little tongue-in-cheek, and they always focused on solving a problem with wit rather than bulldozing her way through it. The crime itself was never the point. The challenge of accomplishing the impossible was.
However, in Sunnybrooke, and particularly in her role as second, she has leaned more on her tactical side to stay ahead. But that doesn’t mean that the woman who successfully replaced dozens of paintings in the Louvre with forgeries is completely gone. She’s simply dormant.
What is their best quality?
She is a charismatic leader. Much less so now than she used to be, but Elizabeth has never been a leader in the traditional interpretation of the word. Her vampirism, along with her chosen profession, meant that there was always a need for her to remain anonymous. Yes, on occasion, her actions achieved a level of fame and notoriety. But she never did.
In a sense, she has always been more of the woman behind the curtain---not the face or the figurehead of rebellions, but the whisper in the wings that helped inspire those who were. Her effervescent charm has dulled dramatically as a result of being betrayed and subsequently captured, but perhaps somewhere, deep down, that whirlwind of a woman who really was something to behold is still there. Perhaps she is still the match that can spark a revolution.
What is their worst quality?
She is ultimately self-serving. Which isn’t to say that she can’t be kind, and empathetic, and helpful to the people around her while genuinely wanting what’s best for them---because she is, and she does. She can be incredibly compassionate when she feels like it. And she does care about others. She might be an undead, parasitic creature who used to lie to people for a living, but she’s not heartless.
What it does mean is that Elizabeth will first and foremost help herself. It’s not that she only bothers helping other people when it’s convenient to her, but rather that she avoids helping others when it’s inconvenient to her, or in direct conflict with her own best interests. At the end of the day, if it’s a choice between her and someone else, she will always choose herself. Because that is the only way that she knows how to live.
What is their biggest fear?
It used to be getting caught. Now it’s getting hurt. She always heard that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and while Elizabeth was never thrilled at the prospect of having her heart broken, she was at least comforted by the notion that if it ever did happen, she would not take it lying down. And she would certainly not let it keep her down.
As it turned out, when she eventually did get her heart broken, not only did she take it lying down and then stayed down (or rather in captivity), but it didn’t make her nearly as angry as she thought it would. Oh, it made her angry all right. It made her angry that she could be so stupid that she didn’t see it coming. But mostly, it just made her sad.
There’s a reason that she’s determined to never fall in love again.
What makes them happy?
Contrary to popular belief, what Elizabeth carries closest to her heart are the true bohemian ideals---Truth, Beauty, Freedom and Love. Not necessarily because she lives and breathes by them, seeing as her basic nature and history as a con artist means that she fails on the tenant of Truth alone, but perhaps precisely because she doesn’t. She has always loved art, and literature, and culture in all its forms; but above all, what she derives the most pleasure from is finding ecstatic beauty and true meaning in all of the things that she is not. In the ecstasy and the joy and the magnificence of life. That’s what makes her happy.
What makes someone their enemy?
Nothing irritates Elizabeth more than people who refuse to take the world as it is. She thinks that naivety is a trait that people should be expected to outgrow as adults, which is why she also believes that if someone is gullible enough to fall for a con, then it’s usually their own fault. That being said, she doesn’t really see stupid people as enemies. Marks are not enemies. They’re marks.
She might not have a lot of principles, but the ones that she does have she takes great care to follow, and the easiest way to become her enemy is to disagree with or blatantly disregard them. Her rule against violence is perhaps the most well-known, but make a victim out of anyone that she perceives to be innocent, and her respect for you will drop to the point that you can never really get it back. It might seem contradictory to Elizabeth’s world view, but to use her own words: there is a difference between innocence and foolishness. The people that she has conned have been incredibly foolish. They have never been innocent.
What do they look for in a friend?
She looks for the same thing in a friend that she looks for in a lover: common interests and a mutual respect for one another. In fact, Elizabeth has never considered attraction to be a deterrent in friendship---that two people can only be ‘just friends’ in spite of being sexually attracted to each other as opposed to because of it, that such feelings are ultimately problematic and need to be dealt with. Perhaps it is because attraction has always come easier to her than affection, but she is perfectly capable of forming deep and meaningful bonds with people on the basis of sexual chemistry rather than emotional, and she is more than happy to consider it a natural a part of any close friendship. Along with common interests and mutual respect for one another.
She takes the world for how it is---neither black nor white but in glorious shades of grey---and is actually quite puzzled by the idea that relationships should exist in a rigid dichotomy of platonic versus romantic. Or at least she used to be, back when she collected lovers like she was collecting shiny toys or Impressionist art. For obvious reasons, it’s become less relevant since coming to Sunnybrooke.
What do they look for in a lover?
Over the centuries, Elizabeth has taken many lovers from a wide range of races, genders, social classes and personality types; not only because she is open-minded and accepting, but because she is easily bored. However, as a general rule, the easier it is for her to manipulate someone into doing what she wants, the sooner her relationship with them ends. Any companions that have lasted a significant amount of time have done so because they could speak their mind and give as good as they got.
When it comes to physical relationships, she does often find herself attracted people who are exactly like her; people who share her liberal ideals and her intellect, who are charming and convivial and captivating, who definitely have an on-again-off-again relationship with the truth and the law, live for relationships with mind-blowing sexual chemistry and no strings attached, and never ask any questions she does not want to answer.
When it comes to emotional attachments, she instead has a tendency to become fascinated with people who are the exact opposite of her; who are honest, heroic, moral and selfless. She admires those traits, and she would probably be more compatible with someone who could help imbue those traits in her, but good luck getting her to fall in love again.
Are they afraid of death?
She used to be, but she’s been avoiding it for so long that she’s not sure it’s because she’s actually afraid of death, or because she’s simply lived for so long that survival has become a habit. That being said, Elizabeth has a complicated relationship to her own immortality. On one hand, it was not forced on her against her will, and she’s never regretted her decision per se. On the other hand, she knows that it is the prospect of their looming demise that makes human beings embrace life to its fullest extent; that makes them curious, creative, passionate, resilient and vibrantly in love with the brief time they have on Earth.
And to a certain extent, she does miss feeling that way. She misses the urgency that made her human self so much braver and bolder because she knew, in her heart and soul, that her time was running out and that she had to cherish each and every second she was given.
Should death come for her now, it would, on some level, be a relief to her.
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