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wisdomrays · 3 years

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QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: Why Was the Prophet Polygamous?: Part 2

Khadija was the Prophet's first wife. As mentioned above, she married him before his call to Prophethood. Even though she was 15 years his senior, she bore all of his children, except for Ibrahim, who did not survive infancy. Khadija was also his friend, the sharer of his inclinations and ideals to a remarkable degree. Their marriage was wonderfully blessed, for they lived together in profound harmony for 23 years. Through every trial and persecution launched by the Makkan unbelievers, she was his dearest companion and helper. He loved her very deeply and married no other woman while she was alive.

This marriage is the ideal of intimacy, friendship, mutual respect, support, and consolation. Though faithful and loyal to all his wives, he never forgot Khadija and mentioned her virtues and merits extensively on many occasions. He married another woman only 4 or 5 years after Khadija's death. Until that time, he served as both a mother and a father to his children, providing their daily food and provisions as well as bearing their troubles and hardships. To allege that such a man was a sensualist or driven by sexual lust is nonsensical.

'A'isha was the daughter of Abu Bakr, his closest friend and devoted follower. One of the earliest converts, Abu Bakr had long hoped to cement the deep attachment between himself and the Prophet through marriage. By marrying 'A'isha, the Prophet accorded the highest honor and courtesy to a man who had shared all the good and bad times with him. In this way, Abu Bakr and 'A'isha acquired the distinction of being spiritually and physically close to the Prophet.

'A'isha proved to be a remarkably intelligent and wise woman, for she had both the nature and temperament to carry forward the work of Prophetic mission. Her marriage prepared her to be a spiritual guide and teacher to all women. She became one of the Prophet's major students and disciples. Through him, like so many Muslims of that blessed time, her skills and talents were matured and perfected so that she could join him in the abode of bliss both as wife and as student.

Her life and service to Islam prove that such an exceptional person was worthy to be the Prophet's wife. She was one of the greatest authorities on hadith, an excellent Qur'anic commentator, and a most distinguished and knowledgeable expert on Islamic law. She truly represented the inner and outer qualities and experiences of Prophet Muhammad. This is surely why the Prophet was told in a dream that he would marry 'A'isha. Thus, when she was still innocent and knew nothing of men and worldly affairs, she was prepared and entered the Prophet's household.

Umm Salama of the Makhzum clan, was first married to her cousin. The couple had embraced Islam at the very beginning and emigrated to Abyssinia to avoid persecution. After their return, they and their four children migrated to Madina. Her husband participated in many battles and died after being severely wounded at the Battle of Uhud. Abu Bakr and 'Umar proposed marriage to her, aware of her needs and suffering as a destitute widow with children to support. She refused, believing that no one could be better than her late husband.

Some time after that, the Prophet proposed marriage. This was quite right and natural, for this great woman had never shied from sacrifice and suffering for Islam. Now that she was alone after having lived many years in the noblest Arabian clan, she could not be neglected and left to beg her way in life. Considering her piety, sincerity, and what she had suffered, she certainly deserved to be helped. By marrying her, the Prophet was doing what he had always done: befriending those lacking in friends, supporting the unsupported, and protecting the unprotected. In her present circumstances, there was no kinder or more gracious way of helping her.

Umm Salama also was intelligent and quick to understand. She had all the capacities and gifts to become a spiritual guide and teacher. When the Prophet took her under his protection, a new student to whom all women would be grateful was accepted into the school of knowledge and guidance. As the Prophet was now almost 60, marrying a widow with many children and assuming the related expenses and responsibilities can only be understood as an act of compassion that deserves our admiration for his infinite reserves of humanity.

Umm Habiba was the daughter of Abu Sufyan, an early and most determined enemy of the Prophet and supporter of Makkah's polytheistic and idolatrous religion. Yet his daughter was one of the earliest Muslims. She emigrated to Abyssinia with her husband, where he eventually renounced his faith and embraced Christianity. Although separated from her husband, she remained a Muslim. Shortly after that, her husband died and she was left all alone and desperate in exile.

The Companions, at that time few in number and barely able to support themselves, could not offer much help. So, what were her options? She could convert to Christianity and get help that way (unthinkable). She could return to her father's home, now a headquarters of the war against Islam (unthinkable). She could wander from house to house as a beggar, but again it was an unthinkable option for a member of one of the richest and noblest Arab families to bring shame upon her family name by doing so.

God recompensed Umm Habiba for her lonely exile in an insecure environment among people of a different race and religion, and for her despair at her husband's apostasy and death, by arranging for the Prophet to marry her. Learning of her plight, the Prophet sent an offer of marriage through the king Negus. This noble and generous action was a practical proof of: We have not sent you save as a mercy for all creatures (21:107).

Thus Umm Habiba joined the Prophet's household as a wife and student, and contributed much to the moral and spiritual life of those who learned from her. This marriage linked Abu Sufyan's powerful family to the Prophet's person and household, which caused its members to re-evaluate their attitudes. It also is correct to trace the influence of this marriage, beyond the family of Abu Sufyan and to the Umayyads in general, who ruled the Muslims for almost a century.

This clan, whose members had been the most fanatical in their hatred of Islam, produced some of Islam's most renowned early warriors, administrators, and governors. Without doubt, it was this marriage that began this change, for the Prophet's depth of generosity and magnanimity of soul surely overwhelmed them.

Zaynab bint Jahsh was a lady of noble birth and a close relative of the Prophet. She was, moreover, a woman of great piety, who fasted much, kept long vigils, and gave generously to the poor. When the Prophet arranged for her to marry Zayd, an African exslave whom he had adopted as his son, Zaynab's family and Zaynab herself were at first unwilling. The family had hoped to marry their daughter to the Prophet. But when they realized that the Prophet had decided otherwise, they consented out of deference to their love for the Prophet and his authority.

Zayd had been enslaved as a child during a tribal war. Khadija, who had bought him, had given him to Muhammad as a present when she married him. The Prophet had freed immediately him and, shortly afterwards, adopted him as his son. He insisted on this marriage to establish and fortify equality between the Muslims, and to break down the Arab prejudice against a slave or even freedman marrying a free-born woman.

The marriage was an unhappy one. The noble-born Zaynab was a good Muslim of a most pious and exceptional quality. The freedman Zayd was among the first to embrace Islam, and he also was a good Muslim. Both loved and obeyed the Prophet, but they were not a compatible couple. Zayd asked the Prophet several times to allow them to divorce. However, he was told to persevere with patience and not separate from Zaynab.

But then one day Gabriel came with a Divine Revelation that the Prophet's marriage to Zaynab was a bond already contracted: We have married her to you (33:37). This command was one of the severest trials the Prophet, had yet had to face, for he was being told to break a social taboo. Yet it had to be done for the sake of God, just as God commanded. 'A'isha later said: "Had the Messenger been inclined to suppress any part of the Revelation, surely he would have suppressed this verse."

Divine wisdom decreed that Zaynab join the Prophet's household, so that she could be prepared to guide and enlighten the Muslims. As his wife, she proved herself most worthy of her new position by always being aware of her responsibilities and the courtesies proper to her role, all of which she fulfilled to universal admiration.

Before Islam, an adopted son was considered a natural son. Therefore, an adopted son's wife was considered as a natural son's wife would be. According to the Qur'anic verse, former "wives of your sons proceeding from your loins" fall within the prohibited degrees of marriage. But this prohibition does not apply to adopted sons, for there is no real consanguinity. What now seems obvious was not so then. This deeply rooted tribal taboo was broken by this marriage, just as God had intended.

To have an unassailable authority for future generations of Muslims, the Prophet had to break this taboo himself. It is one more instance of his deep faith that he did as he was told, and freed his people from a legal fiction that obscured a biological, natural reality.

Juwayriya bint Harith the daughter of Harith, chief of the defeated Bani Mustaliq clan, was captured during a military campaign. She was held with other members of her proud family alongside her clan's "common" people. She was in great distress when she was taken to the Prophet, for her kinsmen had lost everything and she felt profound hate and enmity for the Muslims. The Prophet understood her wounded pride, dignity, and suffering; more important, he understood how to deal with these issues effectively. He agreed to pay her ransom, set her free, and offered to marry her.

When the Ansar and the Muhajirun realized that the Bani Mustaliq now were related to the Prophet by marriage, they freed about 100 families that had not yet been ransomed. A tribe so honored could not be allowed to remain in slavery. In this way, the hearts of Juwayriya and her people were won. Those 100 families blessed the marriage. Through his compassionate wisdom and generosity, the Prophet turned a defeat for some into a victory for all, and what had been an occasion of enmity and distress became one of friendship and joy.

Safiyya bint Huyayy was the daughter of the chieftains of the Jewish tribe of Khaybar, who had persuaded the Bani Qurayza to break their treaty with the Prophet. From her earliest days, she had seen her family and relatives oppose the Prophet. She had lost her father, brother, and husband in battles against the Muslims, and eventually was captured by them.

The attitudes and actions of her family and relatives might have nurtured in her a deep desire for revenge. However, 3 days before the Prophet reached Khaybar, she dreamed of a brilliant moon coming out from Madina, moving toward Khaybar, and falling into her lap. She later said: "When I was captured, I began to hope that my dream would come true." When she was brought before the Prophet as a captive, he set her free and offered her the choice of remaining a Jewess and returning to her people, or entering Islam and becoming his wife. "I chose God and his Messenger" she said. Shortly after that, they were married.

Elevated to the Prophet's household, she witnessed at first hand the Muslims' refinement and true courtesy. Her attitude to her past experiences changed, and she came to appreciate the great honor of being the Prophet's wife. As a result of this marriage, the attitude of many Jews changed as they came to see and know the Prophet closely. It is worth noting that such close relations between Muslims and non-Muslims can help people to understand each other better and to establish mutual respect and tolerance as social norms.

Sawda bint Zam'ah ibn Qays was the widow of Sakran. Among the first to embrace Islam, they had emigrated to Abyssinia to escape the Makkans' persecution. Sakran died in exile, and left his wife utterly destitute. As the only means of assisting her, the Prophet, though himself having a hard time making ends meet, married her. This marriage took place some time after Khadija's death.

Hafsa was the daughter of 'Umar ibn al-Khattab, the future second caliph of Islam. This good lady had lost her husband, who emigrated to both Abyssinia and Madina, where he was fatally wounded during a battle in the path of God. She remained without a husband for a while. 'Umar desired the honor and blessing of being close to the Prophet in this world and in the Hereafter. The Prophet honored this desire by marrying Hafsa to protect and to help the daughter of his faithful disciple.

Given the above facts, it is clear that the Prophet married these women for a variety of reasons: to provide helpless or widowed women with dignified subsistence; to console and honor enraged or estranged tribes; to bring former enemies into some degree of relationship and harmony; to gain certain uniquely gifted men and women for Islam; to establish new norms of relationship between people within the unifying brotherhood of faith in God; and to honor with family bonds the two men who were to be the first leaders of the Muslim community after his death. These marriages had nothing to do with self-indulgence, personal desire, or lust. With the exception of 'A'isha, all of the Prophet's wives were widows, and all of his post-Khadija marriages were contracted when he was already an old man. Far from being acts of self-indulgence, these marriages were acts of self-discipline.

Part of that discipline was providing each wife with the most meticulously observed justice, dividing equally whatever slender resources he allowed for their subsistence, accommodation, and allowance. He also divided his time with them equally, and regarded and treated them with equal friendship and respect. The fact that all of his wives got on well with each other is no small tribute to his genius for creating peace and harmony. With each of them, he was not only a provider but also a friend and companion.

The number of the Prophet's wives was a dispensation unique to him. Some of the merits and wisdom of this dispensation, as we understand them, have been explained. All other Muslims are allowed a maximum of four wives at one time. When that Revelation restricting polygamy came, the Prophet's marriages had already been contracted. Thereafter, he married no other women.

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glorified-red · 3 years

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What is the boys go to method of persuasion (read: manipulation) and how would someone persuade them in turn?

This request took wayyyy too many of my brain cells, thanks fish, you’ve killed me

Batboys Method of Persuasion

word count: 1390~

warnings: none

I’ve been wanting to write angst for a few days now and I am so close to diving into Nightmare and never coming back until the whole series is written.

Dick Grayson

Dick uses social influence consciously and subconsciously all the time

Social influence is how we are all wired to believe that if the people we admire are doing something, then that behavior is normal and we should act that way as well

He uses this to his advantage whenever he leads the titans or any of his siblings

A role model of sorts

Dick acts like the perfect vigilante and people subconsciously follow

It started with Jason when he was first learning about Robin, then with Tim, and eventually with Damian

Going out to patrol with Jason and being very careful about what he’s doing in front of him in the off chance that he picks up the habits Dick has

Knowing Tim watches him so closely so Dick might as well take advantage of it to keep his brother safe with protective patrol actions

Seeing Damians adoration for Dick and genuinely trusting what his older brother says, so why not slowly show Damian how to assimilate into the family through his actions

Theres plenty of different ways this affects Dick however

The constant pressure of needing to be perfect and make the right choices

The feeling of everyone and no-one watching him at all times

And even people pleasing tendencies, because what else is left of his self-importance without admiration?

Which is exactly why the easiest way to persuade Dick into doing something, is making sure he likes and trusts you

He couldn't care less about what strangers think of him, but those close to him? Those inside his circle of influence? Dick wants them to love him

Thats exactly why he tries to keep the family together; exactly why he takes every argument with his siblings to heart

The Liking Principle: we are more likely to comply with requests made by people we like

Ask Dick to do something and he will cross a valley for you not only because he loves you, but because he feels like he has to go through with it to make sure you still love him.

Jason Todd

Jason loves to use reciprocity

He exploits it every chance he can when he’s the Red Hood, how else would he have gotten so powerful?

Reciprocity is how we feel obligated to give back to others what we receive from them, especially if there was no cost to begin with

Jason spared plenty of criminals as Hood to use them for deals or favors later, always bringing up the fact that he could've killed them and could kill them now

He’s not afraid to say to those criminals, “Remember when I did this for you? Yea, I want compensation now.”

He doesn't use it much to his family aside from the typical sibling drama of Jason driving to get Tim food and then bringing it up again to get a few pop tarts during patrol

The more the time passes though, the less he can use reciprocity since it'll lose its draw

So he tends to use it within a few days or weeks

Jason keeps tabs, especially when it comes to crime lords or mob bosses

With his family he kinda just remembers? He’ll see a cookie and automatically remember that Dick owes him a pint of ice cream

But reciprocity works both ways

Jason knows this, so if anyone is smart and cunning enough to see through his manipulation and do it back? He’ll comply

The best way to do this is through consistency and commitment

Make Jason commit to his morals or word by bringing up statements he’s made in the past

His word means a lot to him so twisting it or holding him to it will definitely make him cave

Especially if his word was public and other people were there as witness

But be sure to reward him and reciprocate so that he keeps doing it ;)

Tim Drake

Tim’s method of persuasion is so meticulous

Anchoring: the tendency to rely heavily on the information presented first when making a decision

He mostly uses this at work because it works better with numbers

Having a point value presented for the company so he can appease the snarky board of directors

Twisting and manipulating how the stock market values look by prefacing inflation or previous values from months past

Or maybe shifting employee percentages around to make it seem more successful than it really is, not by a lot but enough that Tim can get them off his back

It’s not lying, he’s just presenting the information a different way that makes it seem more pleasant for his side

Since Tim is well aware that information can be tweaked or presented in a bias manner, persuading him can be a bit tricky considering he’d much rather do his own research

The Ellsberg Paradox, a wonderful experiment that showed people tend to lean towards things they know about rather than take a chance on unknown factors

Like the true introvert he is, Tim needs to know every detail before he makes a decision on something instead of going in blind and regretting it

Want to persuade him into going to a party? He needs to know exactly who's going, what to wear, what’s being served, what’s the earliest time he can leave—the list goes on

Trying to persuade him into doing something risky? Give him the details and he’d have no choice but to sigh and go through with it

Damian Wayne

Damian and the hot-hand fallacy

When someone experiences a success, they’re more likely to continue that streak

He uses this to his advantage when it comes to Robin

Showing his father that he is self-sufficient because Damian busted this ring by himself and took down this villain too

Setting down a steady foundation of success to persuade more privilege and independence with the cape on

It’s a way to prove he belongs as well as keep the line of success for Robin going, purifying the colors so to speak

Dami also uses it on his siblings, especially when Dick took Batman’s role

Taking a weak, low point and showcasing the success that was brought to the mantle through him rather than previous Robins

It’s his confidence, his drive, the passion to maintain success lest he break that streak and tarnish his name

He's also used it to present new tactics or weaponry to the family, stating the success rate or how it has been used in the family before

However, with the inflated importance of Robin’s role, it doesn't take much to persuade Damian back into line

That’s where his weakness of persuasion comes in, The Authority Bias

Authority figures are perceived to be correct and have a stronger influence on others because of this

Damian not only grew up being forced to respect Ra’s and Thalia, but its so deep rooted in him that it is very rare for him to speak out against someone of higher authority than him

Hence why he respects Dick so much as Batman, or even Bruce because he is Damians biological father

So the easiest way to persuade Damian into doing something is to assert authority or dominance over him

There has to be merit behind it however, or he will call your bluff and not take you seriously

Bonus

All of the batboys share one method of persuasion that can also work on them: Mimicry

Its natural for us to respond more positively to people who act, look, or sound similar to us

This comes in handy with survivors on patrol, each of the boys mimicking body language or softening their voices to appear less threatening

In Jason’s case, he likes to appear more human by taking off his helmet so his voice doesn't sound as intimidating, it sounds similar and soft

For Tim, he sometimes takes off his cape to seem less like a super hero and more like an ordinary guy, especially for younger kids

In general though, it’s an unspoken bond between them all that they can tell exactly who each brother likes just by watching mimicking body language or adaptation of speech—very easy to tease each other about it

And of course, mimicry works on each of them as well

Makes them all—in their own way—feel less outcasted

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@bungunz

@red-hood-redemption

@missredrobin

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lilac-castle-in-the-sky · 2 years

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Ulterior motives - part two

Summary: An unexpected opportunity and a hard choice to make, will the reader follow the path of the rightgeous or give in to temptation?

warnings: reader has a bit of a villain arc, swearing, violence, smut, unprotected sex, zemo eats ass, fingering, dirty talk, age gap, John Walker.

A small but important note: So apparently Daniel Bruhl is in my city this weekend to speak at some conferences at the Hay Festival and i only realized because i saw him today from afar just walking around the general vicinity where this is taking place and i got the feeling that if we made eye contact he would know so i spent the rest of my day feeling self-conscious about this fic lol.

Part 1

Sam and Bucky were mad at Zemo after his little stunt at Madripoor, you couldn't say you blamed him for his decision, or that you hadn't seen it coming, as soon as he started wandering around the lab, letting Sam and Bucky take control of the interrogation you knew he was plotting something, but by the time you tried to warn Sam it was too late.

At least he was consistent, you could admire conviction in a person, much like Steve Rogers, Zemo had a strict moral code he adhered himself to, albeit way less altruistic, few people from your old life believed in a thing the same way he did, and well, apart from Sam, so adamant about saving the little psycho running around playing revolution, you hadn't met anyone else who did.

Donya was your only piece of the puzzle now, but with the last couple of days being so intense with the traveling and fighting, you all agreed a few hours of leisure in the Baron's fancy apartment was much needed for the mission.

If Sam and Bucky had heard your nightly activities in Madripoor, they had said nothing about them, but this entire mission had you thinking about what you were going to do once everything was over and you had to go back to the States, and Sam, being the type of friend that he was, had noticed you were quieter than usual, so he waited until Bucky went out and Zemo occupied himself in the kitchen to take a seat next to you on the couch.

“Are you ok?” It was so weird to have someone asking you that question, even after all the time you spend with him moving from one place to the next, that kind of company and friendship still felt foreign.

“I told you I can handle Zemo, stop worrying” the man in question was currently opening and closing kitchen cabinets, mumbling about Turkish delights.

“You know I didn't bring you here to be my bodyguard right? Just for the muscle. I know you are having a hard time adjusting back in the States, i thought you needed the reminder that you did the right thing once and it was the correct choice”

“I know” you didn’t regret joining them when you did, or helping out with Thanos later, but the aftermath of your good choices had been unexpectedly underwhelming.

“But it is a choice you gotta keep on making, y/n” you groaned, falling back against the couch.

“I'm trying” you said, finally able to look Sam in the eye, his hands were full enough already, he didn’t need to worry about your own internal drama.

“Your boss told Sarah you threatened a client”

“He was trying to use an expired coupon and started calling me names when i wouldn’t let him!”

“it happens, i get it, people are dumb like that, but you can’t threaten every client that comes into the store with an irrational request” in your mind if you did it enough times maybe they would stop coming, but you could see how that would be bad for business.

“listen i know you have your own internal struggle with being Captain America and what not but….your government, they don’t want me to do good things, or to be the good guy, do you know how many times i found CIA operatives fucking shit up in other countries? If this is the correct choice, why doesn’t it feel like it?” he seemed to think about it for a second, sinking down into the couch with you, he gave you a soft smile and sat up straight with new resolve.

“I'll find something when we go back, I promise" he chuckled and stood up, giving you a friendly pat on the shoulder "If not for your sake, for your poor customers”

“Sam?" he turned around "thank you for worrying” you had the urge to say sorry too, but couldn't figure out why.

Bucky came back not much later, putting a time constraint on your mission with the information about the Dora coming to take Zemo, you were smart enough to know that wasn't a problem you could punch your way out of, either you found Karli or they would take your golden goose, Zemo however seemed not at all worried to have the Wakandans after him, which made you believe he had a plan.

you kept an eye on him on your way to the refugee camp, you knew he wouldn't try to scape until he could make sure the super soldier serum was destroyed, but he was also a methodical man, if he was going to scape he was probably already moving all the pieces on his board, and if he could plan 3 moves ahead, it was your job to plan 5.

You didn't see any harm in him wandering off to talk to the children, you hadn't miss the sadness in his tone when he explained the sweets he kept in a jar had once been his son's favorite, you knew what it was like to lose people you loved, the longing for the warm feelings they once provoked paired with the fear of losing it all over again, maybe that was the reason why you felt so uncomfortable with your new life, it was starting to resemble a life you had once loved and lost, you had always thought you weren't the kind of person to run away from your problems, but maybe you were wrong.

You realized too late of his true intentions, by the time you came close to the small group of children he had gathered, they were already running off with the pile of candy the Baron had used to bribe them, the smile he gave you as he stood up only confirmed the fact that he had managed to get the upper hand, so you returned to the apartment with no other alternative than to wait for the memorial service to happen.

Bucky went out again after losing his temper and breaking one of Zemo's teacups, you gave him a bad look as the super soldier left the place and then observed as Sam retired himself to one of the rooms to work on his wings, he definitely knew how to push their buttons, but he had yet to learn how to push yours. You took the cherry blossom tea he was offering and sat on one of the stools by the kitchen isle, observing him as you took a sip of tea with enough of a death glare to make him uncomfortable

“I don't expect your motivations to align with ours" you started "but Sam and Bucky are my friends, so if you do something to hurt them, or that could cause them to get hurt, i will make you pay"

He observed you, brown analytical eyes scanning your face, but your expression didn’t change, you needed him to know you were serious, and a few orgasms weren’t enough to make you forget who he was.

"Understood" he said finally, and took a sip of his tea, you nodded.

You hopped off the stool and looked around before finally deciding you were in the mood for a long bath, he had been spending a lot of time in that bathroom so the tub was probably heavenly.

“Do you have any clean towels in there? I want to take a bath” you asked, pointing to the door, the Baron’s head tilted as a grin transformed his lips.

“I know something to help you relax even better”

You laughed.

“An orgasm won’t make forget who you are, Helmut”

“Just one?” he teased, smiling even wider when he noticed the blush taking over your cheeks “my hours of freedom are counted y/n, won’t you grant me one last wish?”

“Depends” you said playfully as you approached him.

“On what?” he grabbed your waist to push you closer to him.

“On what I’ll get in return” you got close, lingering over his lips as a smile grew on your lips, his hands dug into your waist.

“I promise you’ll like it” his voice was a whisper, and then you were kissing.

Hungry, passionate kisses as he guided you towards the master bedroom and then into the bathroom, he kissed you like it was the last time, like the moment he let you go you would evaporate in front of his eyes, his hands moved up your body to cup your face and hold you in place when the need for air became too big to ignore, he kept you in place, foreheads touching as you recovered your breath.

You tried to take your clothes off, but he stopped you, gently lowering your hand he whispered close to your face “let me”

His eyes were very intimidating, in the best way possible, even while fully dressed his brown gaze made you feel completely naked. He didn’t take his eyes off yours as he took of your shirt, his stare only interrupted when he passed it over your head, he didn’t lose any intensity as his hands moved around your body and to your back, unclasping your bra, his fingertips dancing lightly over your skin as he took the straps off your shoulders, it was impossible to hide the shivers.

You kicked off your shoes when he started unbuttoning your pants, he pulled them down along with your underwear, maintain eye contact even as he kneeled in front you and brushed the tip of his nose lightly against your naked sex, with your center already throbbing with need, you gasped at the contact and he smiled.

“my turn” you whispered, pulling him up, he didn’t protest when you started taking of his shirt, looking straight into his brown eyes like he had done with you, you took your time touching the naked skin of his torso you hadn’t touched before, feeling the way his breaths got shorter and shallower.

You could feel his hardness pressing against his pants when you started to unbuckle his belt, you maintained his gaze as you lowered yourself, pulling them down along with his underwear and leaving his erect dick right in front your face, you took him into your mouth and it was him the first to break the eye contact, throwing his head back and whispering in sokovian.

You took in as much as you could and then backed away, working your tongue around his tip and sucking it, he opened his eyes to look at you again, he gathered your hair with one hand and started to guide you to take more of him, gently pushing you until you gagged, he let you go back to the tip before pushing you again to go further each time until your eyes started to water and his dick hit the back your throat.

He groaned, keeping you in place with your nose touching his base until tears blurred your vision and then let go, letting you work him with your mouth and hands pushing him almost off the edge.

“You have a sinful mouth, krasivaya” he pulled you up, wiping the last of your tears with a gentle hand “how should I reward it?”

He kissed you then and started to walk you to the shower, closing the glass door behind him, he turned you around and started kissing your neck, he reached around your body with one of his hands to pinch your nipple and used the other to turn on the shower, but not even the water suddenly falling over you was enough to distract from the way his mouth moved in your neck, on the weak spot right behind you ear as he switched his hand to give attention to your other nipple. You didn't realize the showerhead was mobile and he had taken it out of the base until you felt the water teasing your inner thighs.

the first contact of the pressurized water with your core almost made you come, you fell forward to lean against the wall, feeling Zemo pressing his body against yours to give you more support, he moved the showerhead closer to your cunt making an almost pathetic moan escape you lips.

He moved the shower head then to make the water fall all over your body, your shoulders and abdomen and your already weak legs before teasing its return towards your cunt, the feeling making your legs shake and then gone when he moved the shower head again. You felt his other hand over your body, washing you with liquid body wash, slowly torturing you with every brush of his fingers against your skin as he teased you with the pressurized water on his other hand.

You held onto his wrist to keep him in place.

“I thought you wanted to shower” he whispered in your ear, doing circular motions with his hand, making it harder for you to answer.

“I wanted to take a bath”

“Isn’t this better?” it was, it was a thousand times better, until he moved his hand again letting the water fall over your inner tight, you let out a pathetic whine.

“Fuck! Helmut, let me come please”

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” he aligned himself with your entrance and entered you as his other hand directed the water at your cunt again, you moaned, moving your hips to meet his as the combination of the stimulation over your clit and him going in and out of you pushed you over the edge.

He didn’t gave you any time to catch a breath, turning you around again he grabbed one of your legs and hooked it around his hips to give him a better angle, he grabbed your face to make you look at him and only then he entered you in one swift motion.

You gasped, eyes widening as your pussy stretched around his length, you tried to throw your head back but his grip on your face wouldn’t give.

“No, no, no, no look at me” he moved inside you, drawing pleasure from the way your expression colored with ecstasy with each thrust, he started to say things in sokovian you couldn’t understand, he leaned in to whisper them into your ear and the only thing you could master as a response was to moan his name "you're fucking beautiful like this"

He held onto you, going faster and deeper until you walls started to pulse around him again, he moved his hand between your bodies to rub on your clit, so very sensible and responsive, you came with a cry, an almost painful pleasure as he readjusted your leg to be able to reach that spot inside of you that made you keep seeing stars and prolonged your orgasm enough for him to release his seed inside.

He caressed your cheek as he dropped your leg to the ground, kissed you again and washed you and himself and held your hand to help you step out of the shower, he was a perfect gentleman and it confused you. How could someone so ruthless be so gentle?

“My clothes are in the guest room” you said, he wrapped a towel around your body and used it to push you closer to him.

“Does that mean I get to keep you here for as long as I want?”

“No” you tried to push him away, but failed when his head fell to your neck and he started kissing the weak spot behind your ear.

“I think it does” he kept on kissing you, pulling the towel until you both fell in the bed and kept kissing even then until you were both out of breath, tangled around each other.

You stopped for a moment, examining his face, you couldn’t resist the urge to pass your hand over his hair to mess it up, or descend your finger over the side of his face, feeling the stubble he had yet to shave, his head tilted to the side and you could feel the question coming.

“Would you take the serum if you had the chance?” It made you laugh despite the seriousness of his tone.

“I would be a menace” the old you would’ve taken it, it could make you job a lot easier, and having superpowers was objectively cool, but the new you thought about the consequences of her actions more thoroughly …sometimes “I don’t have enough trust in my good qualities to do it”

It was weird to realize how much you had learned about Zemo in so little time, he didn’t say anything, but looking at his expression you realized he believed you, and respected you for it.

“Are you really going to let the Dora Milaje take you?” you knew it was a bold thing to ask, and for a moment you thought he wouldn’t answer, but he did, being honest with you for whatever reason.

“I no longer have a country to serve or a family to protect, after my mission with Karli is done I’ll pay for what I did” you rolled over on the bed to look at the ceiling, you had told Steve something similar when you decided to follow him, wanting to redeem your past sins by helping them, Natasha had recognized the burden you were carrying and accepted you with open arms.

“I don’t have one either” you confessed “country or family. When this is done, I’m going to leave”

Perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea to open your heart to a man that used secrets to manipulate people, but he was the only person you felt good confessing your thoughts to, he didn’t say anything more, and you stayed in the bed looking at the ceiling until it was time to go again.

You found an unpleasant surprise on the way to the memorial, or rather, it found you. John Walker in the middle of the street in full clown costume, proudly displaying the shield he didn’t deserve on his back, helmet on like he expected to find himself in the middle of a fight at any moment for whatever reason, he walked towards you, laser focused on Zemo until he seemed to register the fact that there was a person in the group he had never met before.

Your luck had run out, sadly. John walker was the result of a machine constructed to protect the interest of a few at the expense of the many, and you would've felt bad for him had he possessed even an ounce of self-awareness.

"Who the hell is she?” with you right in front of his face there was no need to address the other men present.

“An independent contractor, who the hell are you?” It was impossible not to know who John Walker was with the propaganda machine working so hard to make him look like a hero, but you knew how much it would bother a guy like him if someone didn't know his name.

“Great, so you break Zemo out of prison and then hire a hitman” he didn't have to be an asshole about it, he chose to.

“Not a hitman boy, but i can be if you don’t get out of our way” you took a step towards him, but felt Sam's hand pulling you back.

“Not now” he whispered, you hoped it meant you could do it later.

Walker and Jenkins joined your group then as you followed the little girl Zemo had bribed to take you to the memorial, she led you to a back entrance, to a room full of old machinery and you kept quiet as Sam negotiated with Walker for some time to reason with Karli, you thought he needed to stop picking up strays and making them his responsibility, but you weren’t going to argue with him on it since you were currently one of those people.

Zemo got handcuffed to one of the machines, which got a chuckle from you, and then Walker started pacing around the room adjusting every button and belt on his uniform like he were about to face the Chitauri all by himself. He clearly had issues that the people in charge were apparently not interested in solving.

And then, he started to push Bucky, you were planning on staying quiet, not wanting to provoke a fight within the group while Sam was trying to do the right thing, but Walker started to guilt trip him, which you weren’t going to accept.

“Sam said to wait, so we wait, he can handle himself” Walker scoffed at you, but didn’t get out of Bucky’s face.

“C’mon Barnes, you know this isn’t right” you could see Bucky’s jaw pressed so tightly together his teeth had to be hurting, the plates on his metal arm shifting as he opened and closed his fist, he didn’t dare to look at you, and you knew he had made up his mind.

“You don’t need to go Bucky” you tried, but there was determination in his eyes when he looked in your direction.

“I trust Sam, I do, but I don’t trust Karli” you didn’t trust her either but you thought if someone could reason with her it would be him.

“You can watch him if you don’t want to come” Walker ordered, pointing in Zemo’s direction, who had been oddly quiet during the entire exchange.

You observed as the three of them went after Sam and took a deep breath, the plan had gone to shit in less than half an hour and now you were stuck as a babysitter. You turned to the Baron, everything was fucked up already, there was not much damage he could do.

"Do you need any help with that?" you asked, right as he freed himself from the handcuff, it had been naïve of Walker to believe a former high ranking military officer like him would be stopped by a pair of handcuffs.

"No, i will present however, my most sincere apologies" it took you a second too long to register his words, by the time you processed what was happening he was already bending your arm behind your back and securing your wrist.

"what?” you should’ve expected something like this to happen, ending up in handcuffs was entirely on you, you reached for your gun as the Baron ran out of the room “fuck you!" by the time you fired the first bullet he was already out of sight.

It took you all but thirty seconds to get rid of the handcuffs and run after him, the place was a maze, corridors leading into closed rooms or circling back to the start, you had to stop and take a deep breath to pay attention to any sounds that might alert you as to where everybody was, You sprinted towards the gunshots as soon as you heard them, gun in hand ready for the action.

It took you way too long to find the room where they were coming from, which was now quiet as Walker stood over a mess of broken vials and Zemo seemingly unconscious lying on the floor.

He gave you a death stare as you approached, relieved – much to your own concern- to see the Baron’s chest going steadily up and down.

“I thought i ordered you to look after Zemo” either the man was provoking you on purpose, or he didn’t think you would actually do something no matter how many times he poked the bear with the stick.

“I'm not a babysitter and I don't take orders from you”

Sam and Bucky entered the room before Walker could respond or you could make the threat that had been lingering on your mind, they looked at Zemo, at the mess on the floor and Walker’s barely contained anger. You were relieved to see them well, things hadn’t gone according to plan, but it could’ve been a lot worst.

You regrouped at Zemo’s apartment, the Baron laid on the sofa putting ice on his cheek after having taken a pill for the headache, but even then, and he couldn’t keep himself from speaking. He asked Sam the same question he had asked you earlier, he didn’t hesitate in his answer, but you already knew he had that conviction with him, you admired him for it.

You listened in silence as the two of them discussed Karli and the serum. She was on the run again, but at least there was no more serum for her, or anyone else, to misuse, Zemo had completed his mission.

“Something’s not right about walker” Bucky entered the room announcing what everybody else already knew, and proceeded to blast Sam about giving up the shield again, you leaned against the kitchen counter, observing their exchange with a tired expression.

The repetitive discussion was interrupted by Walker barging inside the space like it was his own, demanding for Sam to turn Zemo in to him, the Baron stood up from the sofa as the brand new Captain America threatened Sam, you almost wished for a fight to break out so you could have a valid excuse to punch him the face.

Sadly for you, the Dora stepped in before anything could happen, entering the room with the spears looking regal, you were jealous of them when the fight broke out and they started kicking John’s ass.

“We should step in” Sam said, but you and Bucky were enjoying the show quite a lot. Not to mention you weren’t about to fight a Dora for John Walker.

Bucky gave in eventually, stepping in to help stop the fight, Sam jumped into action as well and you sighed as you observed the bodies flying around knowing you would have to step in sooner or later, except something caught you eye.

He thought nobody would notice him sneaking away in the middle of the chaos, but you did, or perhaps he expected you to notice, perhaps he wanted you to. You followed him inside the bathroom, gun drawn out, unsure of what to do, you had never expected this mission to bring you to the place you currently were in.

Zemo was waiting for you when you opened the door, he didn't look surprised at the gun you pointed in his direction and stood calmly as you took in the scene inside, the bathtub was pushed to the side revealing a tunnel in the ground, your mouth opened and then closed, knuckles turning white around the gun as you pondered what to do, a single word from you and Zemo's scape would be over...and yet.

“Step away from the tunnel Baron, or I will be forced to shoot you” your voice was firm despite the insecurity in your stand, something he picked up on, as well as the fact that you let the door close behind you.

“Ah, but those are not your only choices y/n, are they?”

Choice.

The world had changed so much it felt like a lifetime ago when you had decided it was worth leaving the life you knew behind to follow Steve Rogers, that world no longer existed, the person you were then no longer existed either. You couldn’t just go back and try whatever life Sam thought he could help you live, not in the store accepting insults with a smile, or working as tool for his government doing all the dirty work and being called a hero for it.

You hated being reminded of your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the world, but that was exactly the way you were feeling then, like your destiny was not your own, it was a feeling you didn’t want to get used to, a feeling you would have to live with if you stayed.

A choice.

Your life had been full of bad choices, forced choices you had to make to survive, and then the one you had made because it felt right, the one that had brought you here, Sam had said doing the right thing was a choice you had to keep on making, except the right choice wasn’t always so clear.

“With my resources and your contacts we can disappear, you know they will never let you free”

Sam may have good intentions, but your destiny wasn’t his decision, your stay in the US depended on the government’s hyper vigilance of your every move, after all you were just a foreign mercenary.

You lowered your gun took your phone out of your pocket and the intercom from your ear and placed it on the bathroom counter, was this the right choice? Was this just an easy way out for you? You bite your lip, listening to the commotion outside, you were going to miss Sam and Bucky, but leaving them behind didn’t have to mean a step back for you, this could be your next step forward.

You didn’t know into what, but you had to try.

The Baron extended a hand towards you and you took it, standing on the edge of the tunnel looking down into the darkness, you felt something hard pressing against your lower back, Zemo’s eyes were dark when you met them.

“I don’t take betrayal very well” he gestured towards all the things you had left behind, everything they could use to track you “is that everything?”

You grabbed the barrel of the gun and forced it away from your body without breaking from his eyes “I have made my choice”

He smiled then, a polite charming smile like he hadn’t just threatened you a few seconds ago.

“After you, dorogoya”

You jumped in, falling into the dark uncertainty with one of the most dangerous men you had ever met, not knowing where or how your partnership was going to end, if ever. Perhaps it would be an amicable goodbye, or perhaps a big fucking mess, but you had made your choice, and now had to live with the consequences.

#zemo x you #zemo fanfic #zemo smut #helmut zemo #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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May I please ask what your preferred dynamic between Holmes & Lupin would be? (From what I can tell, the term 'frenemies' might have been invented for these two - if any two characters in fiction WOULD spend all their time trying to one-up each other it's these two, if only their diverse other commitments, challenges & interests left them the free time to do so: I'm also morally certain a sadly-hypothetical Holmes/Lupin team is one of the few things that could bring down Fantomas for Good).

I think "frenemies" is what ultimately works best for these two specifically, because there's a certain untouchability to icons as big as these two that limits the potential stories you can tell with them (although yes, definitely on board with the two having what it takes to bring down Fantomas, although probably not as cleanly and easily as they might expect).

The original Leblanc stories involving this premise are very much centered around one-upmanship, even embracing a theme of national rivalry of England vs France. They acknowledge Holmes's talents but without the awe, with a somewhat aged Holmes with mundane imperfections easily exploited by the daring young thief, someone deserving of his legend but who doesn't quite live up to it. Obviously Lupin's gotta have the upperhand, not just because it's his author writing it, but because the whole point of Lupin's creation was to be the new hotness, the counterpart to both the stuffy old Great Detectives as well as the aristocratic master burglars, and really, what kind of rising superstar would he be if he couldn't put one over the other guy? If he's gonna live up to his claim of being the greatest criminal ever, he's gotta be able to humble the greatest detective at least a little.

The treatment of Watson (Wilson) is tasteless and it's frankly a bit saddening to see that even back then writers were still shitting on Watson far too much, but on the whole I think Leblanc was a lot fairer to Holmes than he could have been (certainly other writers from this time period who added Holmes to their stories were not as fair), he makes it very clear Holmes is not just another Ganimard out of his depth and is very much as close to an equal Lupin's ever had. I think the description used to cap off their final meeting is very much on point:

"You see, monsieur, whatever we may do, we will never be on the same side. You are on one side of the fence; I am on the other. We can exchange greetings, shake hands, converse a moment, but the fence is always there.

You will remain Herlock Sholmes, detective, and I, Arsène Lupin, gentleman-burglar. And Herlock Sholmes will ever obey, more or less spontaneously, with more or less propriety, his instinct as a detective, which is to pursue the burglar and run him down, if possible.

And Arsène Lupin, in obedience to his burglarious instinct, will always be occupied in avoiding the reach of the detective, and making sport of the detective, if he can do it. And, this time, he can do it" - Arsene Lupin vs Herlock Sholmes

The consistent outcome is that Holmes "wins" the material battle while Lupin gets away with the spiritual or karmic victory. The first story, Holmes has Lupin figured out from a glance, robbing him of his greatest asset, and Lupin even tells Holmes under a guise that he has no greater admirer than himself. Holmes choses not to arrest Lupin, and instead solves the mystery as quickly as Lupin would. But he is also, well, inferior. His "commonplace appearence" dissappoints the guests and detectives at the crime scene, he doesn't resemble their expectations, he is gruff, ungracious, arrogant and all-business, an Englishman all the way, and Lupin one-ups him by returning to him his stolen watch, and Holmes is not a good sport about it.

The whole "Herlock Sholmes" name change, although it was out of legal obligation, almost reads like a cheeky courtesy of Leblanc, like he's giving Holmes enough of a courtesy in sparing him the embarassment of being the loser. And the following adventures stay consistent: Sholmes is smart, as smart as Lupin, and he's a gentleman. But he isn't as smart as he thinks he is, and he isn't as much of a gentleman as Lupin. He resorts to unsporting tactics like intimidating Lupin's lover and involving the police in their conflict, and in the end, he's solved the crime, but "sown the seeds of discord" in a family Lupin was protecting, becoming the villain for a change, a role reversion Lupin openly laughs at. Holmes wins the "loot", he wins the material battle, but Lupin has the last laugh, and despite being a self-proclaimed villain, Lupin gets the moral victory.

It's a quite unflattering view of Holmes and one perhaps not suited for a crossover outside of the specific context of Holmes being the old and stuffy intruder in an Arsene Lupin story. Then again, every great hero needs a lesson in humility every now and then.

There's a particularly interesting variant of this dynamic to be found within China's own takes on Sherlock Holmes and Arsene Lupin.

Sherlock Holmes was quite the breakout hit for Chinese audiences at the time of his release, revered as an alternative to Judge Bao and the court-case novels. It's estimated that from 1903 to 1909, detective fiction constituted over almost 50% percent of all Western translated fiction, and with Holmes followed others like Nick Carter and Charlie Chan, and then Arsene Lupin, and soon their own local versions. The most famous and popular of which was Huo Sang, created by Cheng Xiaoqing, who was one of the main translators for Conan Doyle's stories. Cheng Xiaoqing even wrote his own take on Sherlock Holmes vs Arsene Lupin called "The Diamond Necklace", intending on correcting Leblanc's take, although interestingly, he unintentionally recreates the exact outcome by giving Holmes an unsporting attitude, where he "wins" only because Lupin lets him, and Lupin gets away again with the moral high ground. He would fare off much better in correcting Holmes with his own character, Huo Sang.

Huo Sang has a lot of similarities to Holmes, even with his own Watson counterpart, but was also designed to represent a few more traditional Chinese values. He is a science teacher with no addictions who belittles the wealthy class and fights for the poor, and he is praised for humility, one story even making a point to criticize Holmes for arrogance. He is a very Westernized character, with suits and guns and cigarettes galore, but the books were very dictatic and the author marketed them as "disguised textbooks for science", playing up on a newfound social reverence to scientific methods and self-improvement and national rejuvenation.

The stories deal heavily with corruption of the police force and institutions. In the earlier stories he outright calls police detectives useless rice buckets only good for solving petty thefts and preying on those that can't defend themselves, and while they become less sinister in later stories, Huo Sang's relation with law enforcement is much more frayed than Holmes's own. He uses dirty police tactics of his own and sometimes takes the law into his own hands, thinking the law cannot possibly achieve justice on it's own. His biggest loyalty is to his country and he values his reputation above all else. He values justice more than the law, like Holmes. But like Holmes, he still prefers to work inside the law and within Chinese traditions.

"Bao Lang, you scholar, you're too idealistic. Don't you realize how weak the law is in modern society? Privilege and power, favors and money - the law has all these deadly enemies

"We investigate half to slake our thirst for knowledge, half out of duty to serve and uphold justice. In the realm of justice, we are never constrained by the wooden and unfeeling law. For in this society, which is gradually tending to surrender its core to material things, the spirit of the rule of law cannot be put into general practice, and the weak and ordinary people are aggrieved, more often than not unable to enjoy the protection of the law.

Lu Ping, as you'd expect from a counterpart to Lupin, was much different. In fact, right in his very first story, he was already pitted against Huo Sang and outsmarting him, in a story called "Wooden Puppet Play". The character is inspired by an already existing tradition within Chinese literature of the "chivalrous thief", shapeshifting masters of deception and martial arts, and considered admirable and benevolent opposite to the corrupt government officials they outwit.

His stories are more whimsical, energized, more varied, less dedicated to strict science. He whistles while committing crimes, is identifiable by a red tie and wooden puppets he uses to signal his goons on what outfit he's gonna be wearing, and even cracks asides to the reader. In many aspects Lu Ping is influenced by hard-boiled Western detective stories, and naturally, he has a much more contemptious view of the law than Huo Sang

Well then, was he willing, in his capacity as thief, to represent the sanctity of the law and catch the murderer? Yes, he would be quite happy to round up that murderer. But he wasn't at all willing to boost the reputation of the law. He'd always felt that the law was only something like an amulet that certain smart guys had fabricated to get them out of embarassing situations.

Such an amulet migh be good for scaring away idiots, but it oculdn't threaten the violent, crafty and arrogant evil ones. Not only could it not scare them away, a lot of them hid right behind it to work their evil tricks!

Conflicts between these two are not just rooted in one-upsmanship or the patriotic conflict between the two, but instead in two differing approaches to justice, their influence on fellow Chinese writers to step outside tradition, and the respective ways they address issues in society. Additionally, it's not just a conflict between Great Detective vs Gentleman Villain, but the Holmesian Detective and the Hardboiled Detective. And, naturally, when the two met, a pattern reocurred again.

Writing a Lu Ping tale in his usual manner, Sun Liaohong deprives the detective of the advantage he typically enjoys at the hand of Cheng Xiaoqing or any other follower of Conan Doyle - narration by the detective's coadjutor.

It is Huo Sang who slinks around like a thief, alarming hotel service personnel. He becomes rattled, and even so is vain and arrogant. He is a bit too positivist about searching for clues, and he spends a remarkable amount of time just relaxing and waiting for something to happen.

The figure of "wooden puppets" turns wicked when the author uses the term to refer to Huo Sang, Bao Lang, and the police. Satirizing the genre as a play in which the author woodenly manipulates his character. But Lu Ping as puppet is a genius, moving from one identity to another, whereas Huo Sang is a dumbbell - wooden indeed, bourgeois, ridiculed.

A gentleman's agreement occurs only at the end. Huo Sang has the formal victory. He frees Lu Ping in order to get the paining, but the exhibition is held a day late and it now bears Lu Ping's seal.

In wartime, peace talks, diplomacy and gentlemen's agreements are just smoke screens, the stuff of puppetry. Both Huo Sang and Lu Ping surround themselves with lies to reach their final accomodation. Perhaps they are both puppets - Chinese Justice, the Fiction: Law and Literature in Modern China, by Jeffrey C. Kinkley

Both characters were canned in 1949 when the CCP banned detective fiction, and it was replaced with anti-spy literature about how the party police would expose counterrevolutionary conspiracies. They never got to have a rematch, and to my understanding there were a couple of films made afterwards about them, Huo Sang had a very recent one in 2019, but never another meeting.

I guess the takeaway here time and time again is that, credit to Holmes and all, but:

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #sherlock holmes #herlock sholmes #arthur conan doyle #arsene lupin #maurice leblanc #lupinchads can't stop winning

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yniswaifu · 3 years

Text

The bet - 1

You look at the crowd in front of you, eyeing each person for a split second before turning to other. They were talking, they were smiling, they looked happy. Everyone around you and your group were in similar situation – talking, smiling, being happy. But how do we know it was genuine?

Someone tapped your shoulder. You snap back to reality and look at Osamu, the gray head who was also your boyfriend. He had a questioning look on his face, but kept quiet and just smiled at you. You too, smiled back and finished the rest of your food on the lunch tray. Ten more minutes till the end of lunch break.

While you and Osamu weren't the type to be openly affectionate, with the maximum being a kiss on the forehead, the same couldn't be said about the blonde guy sitting across you. He had his girl on his lap, and his head tucked in the crook of her neck. To you, that looked uncomfortable as heck.

"dude, we're in school. Please curb your love." Osamu chimes in, a distasteful expression on his face. His hand was on top of yours, and the other held the special pork bread you get every Friday.

Your eyes turn to the girl, who was blushing at the comment made by your boyfriend. She was pretty, and popular. But she was also nice. So nice that she will might as well take her heart out for you. Her kindness irked you as well, because in today's world kindness was rare, and you weren't sure how genuine that kindness was. You observed her some more. Her hands were intertwined with the blonde's, and she looked happy. Her happy face made something in you hurt when you looked at the 'genuine' love in her eyes, and the 'genuine' love in Atsumu's eyes. Something in you hurt so bad, it made you angry.

You look down and clenched your fist. Conflict was raging in you, making you feel worse with the seconds. You had to decide, and you had to do it now.

The bell rang, and you got up from your seat. Osamu offered to take your tray along with his, and Atsumu followed his brother - trying to be the gentleman he never was. Suna and Ginjima, the other two classmates and friends you had, they too went to keep their trays at the counter. You and f/n were the only people left.

You weren't very close to her. The relationship was confined till "the other twin's girlfriend" category. And since you and her hung out in the same group, you were friendly with each other. A blanket of awkward silence covered the both of you, and while f/n may look uncomfortable, you were scared. Scared of being fake.

"the boys are taking their time." f/n said, and smiled at you. Your eyes widened at her smile, and then turned to her frown. This is wrong. This is so wrong.

"yeah, it seems so. We'll be late for class." you reply, trying your best to smile.

"I know right. Should I go call them?" she asks, pointing towards where four tall dudes stood, talking about something.

You nod your head, and f/n walks over to them to call them. Shutting your eyes tightly, you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. That's it, you have to tell her the truth. You can't continue like this.

When f/n returns with the rest of the gang, you stare at them blankly, void of any emotion as you feel drained. Osamu eyes you for a second, and quietly asks, "are you okay?"

His arms wraps around your shoulders and he pulls you closer as you all walked back to class. You were in a different section from others, as your grades were better than theirs. But that didn't affect anyone.

"yeah I'm fine. Just feeling a little tired that's all."

Osamu nods, clearly not accepting your answer, but he let it go for the time being. In the two years of relationship you two had, communication was never an issue. So he knew you will tell him sooner or later anyway.

The boys enter their class, bidding you and f/n goodbye. Atsumu places a kiss on her lips, while Osamu just squeezes your hand a little. You cringe at Atsumu and he sticks out his tongue at you before leaving. Again, it's just y/n and f/n.

"f/n..." you start.

She turns to you and smiles, tilting her head. "yes?"

"when the boys leave for their volleyball practice, would you like to walk home with me?"

You wanted to be direct, but you decided to do it nice and slow.

F/n couldn't believe her ears. The girl she admired was asking her to walk home with her. She wanted to jump in excitement but kept her calm. "sure." she smiles.

You give her a small smile as well, and enter your class. You were going to make it right, even if it hinders your relations.

***

You kick the pebbles on your path, waiting for f/n. Nervousness had a grip on you, but you knew that this was the right thing to do. Best or not, you weren't up for discussing that. You were also aware how this was going to affect the people around you, specially a specific pair of twins – one of who was someone you held dear to your heart.

Speaking of Osamu, your mind drifted to him, and his pretty poker face, and his subtle way of caring. He wasn't the most expressive in the block, but you knew, how much he cherished you. Not like you were any different. Maybe that's why you two vibed well, seeing both of you were introverts.

"let's go."

You see f/n approaching, a smile etched on her face. You force a smile yourself, mentally preparing for the upcoming storm.

It was awkward to say the least. You have never done anything like this before, and now that you have decided to be genuine and honest, all sorts of doubts enveloped you. None of you spoke a word, and you wondered what was going on in her head.

Meanwhile f/n is way too nervous to be walking with you. Being in a class below, hanging out with people like Atsumu and others was overwhelming. She may be popular for her looks or personality, but it wasn't like she asked for it. But when she had seen you for the first time, she was fascinated. She liked how well you kept yourself together, how you were honest with your words, and how cool you were in general. You didn't need someone's validation to make yourself better, and f/n really appreciated that. Sometimes she felt as if her way of living was inside of a bubble, and she wasn't exactly being herself.

For f/n, you were someone she looked up to, and Atsumu was someone she looked down at. His extravagant way of portraying himself for being one of the best volleyball player in Japan, and his superiority complex, got on her nerves. She wanted to avoid him as much as possible, and she did succeed. But not for long, because Atsumu's charms surpassed his cons and she soon found herself falling for him. It was pathetic on her side, seeing how deep she was in this ordeal, and developed a form of self hatred for lowering her morals. Or so she thought. That's why seeing and being with y/n made herself feel a little better, or worse, and she felt she could correct herself through the 'cool' senior who walked beside her in silence.

Soon the silence was broken by you, and you stopped under the streetlight, calling out for f/n. F/n turned to see a pitiful expression. It was almost like...you felt bad for her.

"is everything okay?" she asks, concerned.

Sighing, you meet her eyes and say, "no. It's not."

"huh? What happened?" she asks, confused.

Gulping the lump at the base of your throat, you continue. "Atsumu started dating you because of a dare."

There it was. The bomb. You dropped it without a warning, and the blast is going to injure a lot of people.

F/n stared at you for a good minute before speaking. "why...?"

Her blurred eyes signal the start of waterworks, but you chose to ignore it and continue. "entertainment." you shrug. "you weren't really into Atsumu, so everyone made a bet that he will make you fall for him in a month. And...he succeeded. The bet has been going on for four months now."

Your eyes were cold, f/n noticed. She wasn't sure why you decided to bestow her with this news, and why now. After four months of bliss and in love. Why her, of all the people in the world.

SLAP!

A hand flew across your cheek, the painful sting making it's way on your face. You didn't expect that, but you also knew somewhere deep down you deserved that. You couldn't bring up to look at the now crying girl in front of you, so you kept looking down.

"screw you all." were the last words you heard before the footsteps faded away.

Ah, I went and did it. You think, as your own tears streamed down your face while thinking of the aftermath.

Chapter 1 is up! Wow I'm nervous. Anyway, I hope you like it. The second chapter may be posted sometime within this week, so stay tuned.

Have a beautiful day. ✌️

#Haikyuu #Fanfiction #Anime #Osamu x reader #Atsumu x reader #Suna #Ginjima #Volleyball #Imagines #Haikyuu scenario

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

Hey, I loved your post about queerness in historical fiction. I was wondering if you could help me find a better way to explain (or know of someone who could) to the white (usually male) fans of Tolkien who are currently losing their minds because in the series for Amazon they have cast Sir Lenny Henry (a black man) as a hobbit. It feels like the exact same argument that was dealt with when Anya Chalotra was cast as Yennefer for The Witcher. It just seems like only white people are screaming that the entire cast must be white in both the case of the Witcher and Middle Earth in order to be "historically accurate to the Dark Ages" when it's all fantasy. I'm a white person and I don't get it. It's really frustrating that the only way to convince them that people of color should be allowed to play characters who aren't evil-doers is to bring up the existence of the potato in both Middle Earth and The Witcher. In this most recent fight, I've been called all kinds of names (one dude keeps saying I'm racist when I haven't brought up race or anything like that) and it's ridiculous because Henry was cast as a Harfoot who were hobbits with dark skin that they claim means Mediterranean not Black.

Ooof. I admire your initiative, I really do, but also: there comes a point where all good-faith efforts are totally futile, because these people don't actually WANT their beliefs challenged, and there won't be anything you can do about it except to exhaust yourself. You can throw all the material or documentary evidence at them that you want, but it won't work, because racism, white superiority, and the assumption of a monolithically white medieval history are a helluva drug. They are eager to split ridiculous hairs like "dark skin means Mediterranean instead of black" because, well, racism, whether or not they want to acknowledge that. Because Mediterranean is at least European, whereas for them, Black is Bad, Inferior, or otherwise Unacceptable. This doesn't even get into the types who want to claim that Ancient Rome (which was rather notably, y'know, Mediterranean and North African) was actually lily-white, because even dark-skinned Southern and Eastern Europeans can't ultimately make the racist cut.

Tolkien himself obviously had problems with his depiction of race and racialized people (witness the Haradrim, "men from the South," being the only people of colour in the story and generalized as an indiscriminate evil force fighting for Sauron against the white/Northern European heroes). That's not to say Tolkien was actively racist (see: the letter he wrote to the Nazi German would-be publishers of The Hobbit, inviting them cordially to get fucked), but it does mean that he was steeped in the usual assumptions and expectations of a white upper-class British man in the 1920s and 1930s, and not least the mindset that the (white) rulers of the (nonwhite) British Empire were superior, morally correct, and the privileged resisters of "evil" political systems. (This isn't even getting into how Germany was admired throughout the long 19th century for its perceived cultural and social superiority, the American eugenics movement directly influenced the Nazis, a lot of people thought that Hitler's only mistake was being too obviously crazy, and America and Britain only actively entered World War II when their territory/perceived global power was infringed upon.)

White people tend to assume that if they personally don't hold discriminatory attitudes (and they usually do, just because that's what society has taught them for almost all of modern history), they can't be racist, and it's a personal insult to call them that. They know that Racism Is Bad, but likewise, it's always someone else's fault, not theirs. See the huge brouhaha over the supposed plan to teach "critical race theory" in American public schools, which is really just acknowledging that centuries of racism and discrimination have created a system that disadvantages people of color at every level. This is absolute heresy for today's right wing (which has become ever more extreme, reactionary, and historically amnesiac) to admit. They can admit historical racism, sometimes, maybe, only in demonstrably "bad" people, but as far as they're concerned, there was no lingering effect whatsoever, and it's "un-American" (read: anti-white supremacist) to insist otherwise. Land of the free! Everyone treated the same! Etc. etc. The continued inferior or disadvantaged life outcomes of people of color is, according to these types, simply a result of them not being motivated/ambitious/smart enough to fix their own broken circumstances. Those centuries of genocide, cultural destruction, use as literal chattel slaves, etc, has nothing to do with it.

If this sounds ridiculous: well, obviously, it is. But as reactionary mindsets have become troublingly normalized and social media has allowed people to spread both passively and actively racist content to unprecedented degrees, it has also leaked into media. The type of white-man-fan you're arguing with won't accept any "historically accurate" argument for the inclusion of non-white people, even as they're staking their own (bad) arguments on that hill. This is because they want to claim the sole privilege to create a nostalgic/imagined/fantasy space that looks just like them. Their underlying belief is that people of color never had any power or consequential role in history, and shouldn't have, so they don't want to see a space, even an explicitly fantastic/non-historical setting (like LOTR, The Witcher, GOT, etc.), where this is the case. Whether or not they want to say it, or even if they're aware of it, they feel that even if they've been unhappily forced to accept a small lessening of their cultural power just because we no longer automatically accept that white men get to run everything, they at least can take comfort in a (white) past. And now, or so they think, the "politically correct" types also want to ruin their racist fantasy comfort zone. They can't even escape from multiculturalism in media, as it too has become steadily more diverse.

Basically: it's racism, Jan. It's many levels of racism, you can't argue those people out of it, and you have to identify and understand that, especially since their favorite diversionary tactic will be the schoolyard maneuver of going, "no, YOU'RE the racist!!!"

(Also: "historically accurate to the Dark Ages" should tell you everything you need to know. These people know absolutely nothing about history, but that won't prevent them from weaponising it in defense of the perceived threat to their cultural and racial domination. Besides, yet again, fantasy universes have no claim to historical accuracy, and if you say that, I assume you just want to feel justified in creating a fictional universe where the only powerful/consequential people are white heterosexual western European-coded men, because you not-so-secretly wish it was still that way in reality.)

#history #history of racism #medieval history #anonymous #ask

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tazwren · 3 years

Text

My two cents on the devolution of fandom spaces...

As a former mod of a fandom space and a woman of colour, I do not feel safe.

Seeing what has been done to so many in this fandom, by a particular group of white American women, in the name of moral policing is both abhorrent and demoralising. As it also is to repeatedly see the same narrative being shoved at everyone as the gospel truth.

A narrative that very conveniently either becomes about fic or has nothing to do with fic, depending on how people want to swing things. A narrative that will accuse a person of Jewish heritage of anti-Semitism, a person of colour of racism, a practising Muslim of being an Islamaphobe. A narrative that will define for you and me and all of us comprising this myriad of multitudes in the world what generational or personal trauma includes and what induces the same.

Those of you who know me, know what I’ve been dealing with the past few days & why I haven’t spoken up before now. Before I logged out a couple days ago, I saw what looked like more of the usual nonsense by the same group of people I’ve kept my distance from once their true colours were revealed. What I didn’t expect is that they would think themselves so above the norms of human decency and accountability that they would go after not one but two women of colour this time around in their rabidity. And many others who spoke up, as it turns out.

It hurts to see what these women, that I know of, have had to endure and to see the passivity of the community, save for a few voices, in sitting back and letting the circus rampage through town. It hurt when I was at the receiving end of it and it hurts now.

Why? Because it shows me a microcosm of the world that I don’t really relate to, that makes no sense to me with the values I was brought up with, and which reduces basic human decency to a commodity to be trampled upon and for you to be seen as weak for having. Because people who willingly laud you for your art / writing / wit, meet you with effusive claims of love and affection and friendship, who have no qualms in taking your help when it suits them, will throw you under the bus and let the wolves ravage you when it doesn't.

Before I get into that, let me talk a little bit about what has transpired over the past few days to a week, and what has been systemically taking place over perhaps the past year in this fandom.

One thing is that everyone who makes a statement about anything suddenly has people in their mentions demanding they show what gives them the right to hold that particular opinion. A critical thing people forget about fandom is that it is a place where people hide their identity for a variety of reasons, all valid, and this approach to fiction and conversations where everyone has to reveal every part of their past and identity as a means of establishing their "credentials" in order to present their views comes in direct contradiction with how fandoms operate. It violates people's rights to privacy.

The other is that there has been an increase in the voices that purportedly stand up to “speak for” the marginalised, the abused, those discriminated against and those who belong to minorities who “need to be protected / kept safe”. An admirable sentiment, to be sure. If it weren’t for the fact that none of these groups of people needed saving, speaking for or the protection of this particular group of voices.

Voices who only want to define and use these people as "model victims" to hurt other white women and establish their supremacy over both them and other POC. Voices that will present their "truth" as they see fit and sans context or present you with screenshots of snippets of conversations held in supposedly secure spaces that they have no qualms in violating in the interest of the "greater good" and claim offense / silencing if the misdemeanour is pointed out or action is taken against them, Voices that will conveniently categorize you as a "token POC" or "white adjacent" when you do not support or align with their narrative. Voices that belong to a predominantly white American group of women, whose real agenda, as is evidenced by their modus operandi, has nothing to do with real altruism or a drive for justice or indeed to right wrongs.

No, their agenda is purely power.

To hold sway over groups of followers, to shepherd them as though they are sheep who cannot think for themselves, and to set themselves up as white saviours who call out those who step out of line, or are deemed to be problematic and toxic and unsafe. To be the owners of the only "safe spaces" in fandom and to drive other groups and spaces to be boycotted or worse.

Now, I've long wondered, who indeed are these women to decide that for anyone? In a world comprising multiple cultures, religions, groups, subgroups, genders and which contains multitudes, who are these women and what gives them the right to foist their puritanical standards on everyone, very conveniently disguised as concern for the moral well being of everyone and the consumption, of all things, of fiction?

Certainly, there are many things in this world that people regard with justifiably equal dislike / horror / sadness. At the same time, there is much that is not shared, that is particular to a culture and to a person’s background. There is a multitude of perspectives that make the whole. And the white women of the United States of America have not cornered the market on what those are, or indeed even own any curatorship or censorship of the same. They cannot, because each person’s culture and background and joy and trauma is their own, as are their ways of dealing with it all.

That being said, let’s talk about their pack behaviour and the devolution I’ve witnessed on social media as basic human decency is bartered for clout.

I’m all for standing up for someone who doesn’t have a voice or a platform, or maybe afraid of repercussions to voice dissent. I’m all for being there for our fellow human beings as they face struggles of often unconscionable and unfathomable proportions. I’m all for holding people accountable for their negative behaviours as they impact the larger community.

What I am unequivocally NOT for is treating such situations as an opportunity to preach, to virtue-signal, to shame and to put on blast the alleged wrong-doers. I say alleged because that’s what most accusations are on these platforms—allegations to do with things that disturb our sense of balance or make us wrinkle our noses or that we deem bad, and therefore make the accused deserving of the full force of the community’s misbehaviour and censure.

I ask you if you were found guilty of a crime in real life—you know, the one away from your phones and keyboards—would you not have an opportunity to retain a lawyer, to plead your case in a court of law, to acquit yourself? Or, if found guilty, would you not have the opportunity for correction and rehabilitation? Yes, you say? (If you say no, then that explains the spate of state-perpetuated injustices across the USA, but that is a different matter).

Why then are people treated so abhorrently in this court of public opinion? What gives you, me, any one of us the right to judge people so vilely and with a metaphorical gun to their heads? What gives anyone the right to say you better agree with everything I say, retract everything you said and grovel for it or we will eviscerate you in public, shame you, force you to change or delete the content that offends us and still ostracise you and in some cases even threaten you with bodily harm or death, or doxx you?

Why is there no grace in how people are approached or dealt with? Whatever happened to allowing people to learn from their mistakes, where applicable, or hearing them out and giving them a chance to explain their side of something we may not fully understand?

Why is there no accountability for such behaviour on the part of the accusers?

What makes the rest of you sit back and allow this to happen? What makes you think this is in any shape or form okay to watch? Today, it is a virtual stranger at the receiving end, one you can distance yourself from quite conveniently saying Oh, she just mods a group I am in, or I only read their fics a couple times or I only followed them for their art or jokes or whatever flavour of excuse you choose. Tomorrow, it will be one of your own - or it may very well be you. And you'd better hope there's someone left to speak up for you.

The irony is you will have allowed it to happen by letting the wolf in the fold. By letting these white women manipulate you, and the community you claim to be a part of, so unapologetically, so maliciously and so unashamedly that before you can do anything about it the cancer has taken hold.

If this was happening in the world outside of social media, they would have to follow due process, to present real evidence based on facts (not based on emotions, rumours or perceptions) and would have to allow the person they are accusing to present a counter-argument, to defend themselves or be defended. Failure to do so is a miscarriage of justice and, depending on whether this is a professional or legal proceeding, they would either seriously risk their jobs or have the case thrown out of court. If not face action themselves for attempting to derail the process of justice.

Why then are they permitted to range so freely through the landscape of fandom, snarling and biting at who they please, or who displeases them?

I have no shame in saying I was at the receiving end of their behaviour for defending a friend they put on blast and I will tell you right here and now, I am a woman of colour who feels unsafe and attacked by these so-called self-appointed white saviours of your social media experience, these so-called upholders of the common morality—whatever that means—who will fight for you the evils of problematic and toxic writers who dare to have an opinion not aligned with theirs and who do not bow to their clout. Not that they care, so long as they can ignore this fact since it doesn’t fit their narrative. So long as they can ignore what has just been done to so many people in the name of cleansing the fandom.

If any one of these women were truly interested in alleviating the troubles and pains of the discriminated, the marginalized, the trauma-affected, I invite them to please come roll their sleeves up and help in the multitudes of troubles that wrack this world, not just in the backyards of their minds. My country is amidst a struggle for the basics of human life in this horrific pandemic and, prior to that, for basic constitutional rights for religious minorities. Do not patronize me and lecture me on trauma and racism and discrimination. Do not marginalise me in your attempt to pontificate and set your pearl-clutching puritanical selves above the rest, or assuage your white guilt.

A largely American audience or fanbase in this fandom is purely a function of access and interest—other cultures have vast followings for things you couldn't begin to fathom—and it doesn't mean you are entitled in any shape or form to be spokespeople for the rest of the world. We have no interest in being colonized again by white oppressors.

If you disagree with what I have said, I congratulate you on being a part of their coterie and wish you much joy in being the sheep in their fold. Kindly unfollow or block me on the way off of this post.

#fandom #fandom culture #bullying #gaslighting #gatekeeping #minorities #people of colour #real talk #toxic people #problematic behaviour #problematic authors #problematic fiction #fanfic #reylo #reylo fanfic book club #reylo fic recs #trauma #safety #accountability

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comeandreadawhile · 3 years

Text

Au: Boba gets adopted (pt 2)

Part 1

Boba was adjusting.

Perhaps as well as could’ve been expected, having to learn to live in the stronghold of his ancestral mortal enemies as the child of the only Jedi he’d been acquainted with, but Anakin—his new ori’vod, he guessed, who had first come to the temple around Boba’s age—had also taken a while to settle in. He finally had the option to play with children his own age, who weren’t twice his size, and at least the education modules he was given were similar to the ones his dad—

Boba was trying to adjust.

Boba had clung to Kenobi as soon as the man had set down the clanking bundle he’d brought back to the ship with him, and had held fast from the moment they’d left Geonosis’ atmosphere—even as a medic was fussing over Kenobi’s leg, the redhead simply shifted Boba out of the way, half onto Anakin, who’d sat next to the pair on the flight to Coruscant. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, Boba noted how the teen’s attention was torn between him and his new caretaker, and the older girl closeby also being fussed over by a medic.)

Kenobi was certainly trying to make the transition easier. Becoming a High General in the newborn war with the Separtists, in addition to finding out his current padawan had just weeks ago lost his own parent while they were separated, had certainly given Kenobi enough to deal with without unceremoniously adopting a child. Yet he had, and here they were; two grieving, angry children and an already exhausted Master Jedi.

The Jedi bigwigs—council, Kenobi said—hadn’t taken his impromptu claiming of a child lightly.

He was clinging still when they’d arrived to the temple; an emergency meeting of council members to discuss Kenobi’s findings and their concerns of the dawning war had been called. Kenobi had made no move to separate the child from his person and did quite the opposite when the matter was immediately brought up. Boba remembered thinking that if he held on any tighter, he risked choking his new-found guardian. Kenobi simply shifted him a bit higher on his hip, a better hold, at the deep-voiced inquiry. Over Kenobi’s shoulder, Boba noticed an old Master—surely, the person must’ve been one—with a long snake’s tail instead of legs, peering at him kindly from under a thick mane of white hair.

“He’s mine,” was the explanation Kenobi had given. “I will raise him.”

The same deep voice, that had already sounded tired to Boba, now sounded tense. “You already have a padawan, Master Kenobi.”

“Then it is good that I have no intention of keeping him as a padawan,” Kenobi, replied coolly. “I’ve claimed him as a foundling under Mandalorian law.”

“We are not Mandalorians, Obi-Wan,” said a different voice, less deep than the first and oddly accented. Boba could only see a large pink ear in that direction from where he was hiding in Kenobi’s throat. “I would’ve expected this behavior from your master, but not from you.”

Boba did not need the Force to feel the righteous fury the remark inspired in his guardian. A woman—a togruta, his father once called her people—turned slowly towards the pink ear’s owner.

“Master Piell,” she spoke lowly, “that was uncalled for.” The few other people Boba could see looked similarly indignant, and he felt the tensed arms holding him relax minutely at the woman’s admonishment.

The first deep voice spoke again, “Be that as it may, Master Piell is correct in that we are not Mandalorians.”

“The bounty hunter was, and this boy is.” Kenobi responded as if the last minute hadn’t happened.

“We do not take in civilian children, Kenobi, and that doesn’t change because of your fondness for Mandalore’s people.”

“What would have had me do? Leave him on Geonosis?”

“The Republic’s foster system would’ve been alerted of the boy.”

“—and he could sit in the sand by himself, grieving, until they picked him up? You know how difficult it is for older children in that system to find homes.”

“We,” a pause fell that Boba guessed was spent sending a look to a certain Master, “are not attacking you, Master Kenobi. Even if we could adopt every orphaned child into our fold, there is also the issue of attachment.”

“Are we not honor-bound to help those in need?”

“This is not a simple matter of helping! You know that this goes against our code,” The deep voice replied sharply. Boba felt Kenobi tense again.

“You would choose to abide by our code so strictly and whole-heartedly even if it conflicts with the interests of a child?” There was a chill to Kenobi’s tone that made Boba hope to never receive it. A new voice, old and squawky, huffed.

“Both of you, enough. Argue like children, you do. A bad example, this sets.” A cushion shifted. “On this matter, what does Skywalker say?”

Kenobi shifted his feet a bit before answering, “Anakin’s recently lost his own mother; he’s struggled with his attachment to her the entire time I’ve trained him. It’s my hope they will help each other work through their grief in ways I might not be able to. He’s accepted this boy already, Master.”

The ancient voice hummed, a Boba heard the airy taps of wood against tile. “Master Koon,” the voice sounded undecided. “Helpful, your view may be.” The lilt at the end of the sentence, and the quiet sighs of some councilors gave Boba the impression there was a joke he wasn’t getting. A new voice—not unlike the horns the Cuy’val Dar blew on special occasions, noble and deep despite their hollow resonance—joined the fray.

“There is already a strong connection in place,” this Master stated. “It would most likely prove more traumatic for the boy to remove him from Master Kenobi now.” Another cushion shifted, “Besides, who better in this Order to raise a Mandalorian than Obi-Wan?”

“Matters, does it not, that coming, a war is?”

“From my understanding of their customs, certain sects of Mandalorians took their children to war about this one’s age. Am I correct?” The question must’ve been for Kenobi, because he turned his body and answered.

“Yes, Master. Their coming of age rites are performed at thirteen, but most clans start training and going to war as young as eight. I am familiar with their fighting styles and customs, enough to get this boy through his Verd’goten.” Kenobi turned back to the first, critical, deep voice. “Even if I must do so without the approval of this council. I will not go back on the vow I made.”

The voice like strong music hummed thoughtfully, “An admirable conviction, Master Obi-Wan. Your master would be proud of your morals.” The air suddenly felt warmer to Boba, and the voice sounded resolute as it continued, “A Jedi of this Order killed this boy’s father, so a Jedi of this Order will raise him in his father’s place. That is my opinion on this matter.”

The togrutan woman spoke softly, “Exceptions have been made to the code before now, surely they will again.”

“A vote, we shall have,” declared the squawky voice; in the next terrifying minute, silence filled the chamber as hands were raised or stayed, with the blood pumping loud enough in Boba’s ears he wasn’t sure whether or not they’d announced their decision and he’d missed it until the deep voice from the beginning spoke, tight and stern and tired.

“This council has ruled in favor of you keeping your foundling, Master Kenobi. Raise him as befits this order.” Two sighs of relief echoed into the chamber, and Boba saw as the man with the snake tail nodded, smiling under his beard.

“Before we begin Master Obi-Wan’s debriefing...” the voice like horns chimed in, trailing off behind the sound of linens shifting. “It has been some time since a Mandalorian youngling was within these temple walls.” The voice was closer now, and Boba startled as a hand landed on his head. Turning around in Kenobi’s hold, he met eyes—or assumed so, with the mask between them—with a being he’d never seen before. Boba’s first thought was ‘ugly’, and then immediately felt a pang of guilt for such a thought toward the one who’d spoken so in favor of keeping him and his new guardian together. The clawed, orange hand resting on his head gently ruffled his hair before retreating into the Jedi master’s sleeve.

The togruta had made her way over to them as well, peering down at Boba with wide, steel-blue eyes; she swept a gentle hand over his head much as her fellow master had done. He did his best not to scramble as Kenobi made to put him down. “We should give you a proper introduction, then, shouldn’t we?” He kept a grounding hand on Boba’s shoulder as he spoke. “Masters, this is Boba Fett. Boba, these masters are…” and Kenobi went down the line, first beginning with Masters Ti and Koon, who the. Went back to their fancy chairs, and then turning to go around the circular room. The squawking voice had apparently belonged to an odd little green creature, and then Boba met eyes with his neighbor.

He’d have liked to throw up as cold dread wrestled with hot fury in his gut.

Kenobi quieted, he and the other masters going tense and stiff at the boy’s vast and sudden emotional shift. The one Kenobi called Yoda crossed his clawed hands over his cane and spoke as if he expected Boba to bolt; Boba had half a mind to. “Quite distressed, you are. Why?”

Boba wasn’t quite sure how the words got out with how tight his throat had become. “He killed my dad.”

He’d have spat the syllables had they not been choking him. “He killed my dad with a purple lightsaber.”

Boba remembered little of what happened next—torn between running away and lunging at the jedi master’s neck as Kenobi scooped him up and practically ran out of the chamber—somehow ending up in a garden with a winded Anakin to wait out Kenobi’s debriefing. They’d talked, both of them trying to distract the other from recent losses; Anakin even taught him how to blow off steam by skipping stones in one of the larger fountains. Upon his return, Kenobi snatched Boba up and apologized profusely, not having known Mace’s connection to the boy.

They’d gone back to their quarters, Kenobi promising Anakin they’d spar the next day and discussing plans for latemeal with Boba settled back on his hip. The lull in activity only allowed the boy’s mind to wander back to the events leading to his current situation, and both jedi noticed the spike in Boba’s grief and frustration; Kenobi gave him a gentle squeeze as the first sniffle came. “Any ideas for latemeal, little one?”

“Neither of us have spent much time in the temple the last couple weeks but the commissary will be open for a while if nothing else,” Anakin chimed in, sarcasm threading the edges of his tone. Kenobi gave a small ‘tsk’ in response.

“There were plenty of shelf-stables when we left,” Kenobi pointed out. “Besides, a large loud room full of strangers is the last thing Boba needs at present.” He repeated his previous question, and Boba was more than happy to turn his thoughts to potential answers.

“Something warm...and salty, maybe?”

Kenobi nodded beside his head, “There’s a start. What else?”

They carried the conversation on until the trio reached a door set into the wall. Entering the small apartment for the first time, Boba had been struck at the differences, as well as the similarities, to the dwelling he’d been raised in. The jedi clearly weren’t material people, but compared to the sterility of Kamino’s white halls, the room awash in afternoon sun was extremely inviting despite its foreign nature. Plants, slightly wilted from their master’s absence, littered the space’s windowsills, with books in neat piles and rows within several bookcases nearby. Blankets draped over some on the furniture that Boba could see, and the glimpse of a table around a corner hinted at the location of the kitchen.

Anakin had been tasked with showing Boba around the living space while Kenobi went about the kitchen’s stock. He’d been all too happy with the excitement Boba had shown while admiring his collection of ship models, and once latemeal was well underway, Obi-wan had been relieved to pop in and find, despite recent events, his nineteen year old wasn’t too old to play starfighters.

Boba slept in Anakin’s room that night, a belly full of warm soup—it had been just what he needed—and grateful his first night in this foreign place wouldn’t be alone.

The next few days had been a flurry of activity, between the Jedi preparing themselves and their padawans for war, barely being instructed on how to lead the men they’d be assigned—who Boba tried not to think of—and bouts of quiet, where Boba tried to become more comfortable with his new home. Obi-wan, who insisted Boba call him that instead of ‘Kenobi’ his second night at the temple, had begun trying to teach him to meditate, saying it would be a good tool for when he felt stuck or frustrated. The Jedi master said they would pick up Boba’s training soon from where his dad left off.

Boba missed his dad. It certainly leant to his hatred of being alone, and despite the newness of their situation Boba couldn’t help feeling paranoid whenever Kenobi left to attend to some matter or other. What if something happens? What if they change his mind? Will someone else take me? Would someone else want me? What if Obi-wan never comes back?

Yet, each time Obi-wan would return with a tired smile and hug, asking how he and Anakin got along that day. There had a time within the first weeks, with warning of course, that Obi-wan had been gone for a couple of days, and after Boba’s anxiety at their separation came to a head the first evening, Anakin had pulled out a holocomm. He’d pulled Boba onto his leg and suddenly a blue hologram of Obi-wan, unfortunately soaked, sprung up from the device. They’d called again the next night, too. Boba had run to the door the next day when it opened, and was briefly halted. He’d used to run to the door when his dad came home from a hunt; was he forgetting his dad by showing this Jedi the same excitement?

He filed the conundrum away for later when said Jedi called his name. The man’s arms were filled with boxes, with more trailing behind him. “I’ve got some things for you,” he’d said.

To say Boba could’ve cried at what was in those boxes would’ve been inaccurate. Because he did, in heavy sobs, when he opened the first and pulled out one of his dad’s shirts. Going through the boxes with tear-filled eyes and an almost frantic determination to make sure, Boba found that everything personal from the Kamino apartment was in those boxes; his and his dad’s clothes, his dad’s books and even some that had belonged to his ba’buir, and the entirety of the armory his father kept apart from Slave I, among everything else. He tackled Obi-wan’s legs in a hug, wet hiccups making him unsure which language his stuttered thanks was given in. He’d slept in his father’s shirt that night, clutching two more like lifelines.

Boba began his education modules shortly after Obi-wan’s return, content to do them while Anakin went through his saber practice or as a distraction when Obi-wan was busy in with the council. Grief was difficult, especially so sudden a loss, but he was adjusting while working through it. He and Anakin sometimes swapped stories of Jango and Shmi, and it felt good to talk about them even if it left the boys misty-eyed afterward. Boba was trying to adjust.

Then details of Obi-wan and Anakin’s first deployment came.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #boba fett #anakin skywalker #mentioned #plo koon #shaak ti #leading up to the clone wars

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yanderenightmare · 4 years

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any tips in writing a yandere midoriya? i’m currently writing this book — and honestly the way you write midoriya is spot on! it’s hard for me to grasp characters, especially since they’re gonna be tweaked since they’re yandere. it’s not only midoriya that’s a yandere, it’s poly, so how do you think he would go about sharing his darling as well?

How to write yandere ! Midoriya Izuku

First: let’s look at the basics, as in key personality traits.

Midoriya is seemingly two things personality wise: he is optimistic and passionate. These two things however are strictly based a certain mindset, certain emotions, emotions that are highly volatile, as in changeable. What we can take from him being optimistic and passionate, is that he is calculating, observant, diligent and tireless. These traits, as opposed to the emotional traits, lack needing to be fueled by certain emotions such as happiness, and will therefore survive no matter his emotional state, which in turn makes them his key personality traits. Viewed in other ways: these are his key personality traits because they are unshakable as opposed to his awkwardness, anxiety and self-doubt, which are also things he can overcome, (things he has overcome in my take of him). All in all, no matter his emotional state, he will always remain calculating, observant, diligent and tireless.

Now: having these traits calls for different abilities, a.i. they add up and award him with certain titles. Titles such as Hero, Genius... God.

Being a genius, where his experience as one of the most revered people in the world has led to many opportunities in dissecting and analyzing all his peers, meaning he has a great understanding of the human psyche, which in turn distances himself from them and makes him feel above them. Because, despite being superior, he is still human and still vulnerable to all human faults, and when humans are worshipped, they will think they are God, forgetting their purpose in the light of glory, forgetting that he is a Hero for the people, of the people, by the people and beginning to believe he’s above the law, (which eventually leads to him justifying kidnapping for his pleasure). He genuinely believes no other human can achieve his level of strength and smarts. And having a God complex as well as being psychopathic-smart, will lead to the bending and eventually breaking of morals, where he can excuse his depravity with it being conscious and not mindless, he can excuse it for being for the greater good, something above regular human understanding. Thinking that: because he’s aware of it being wrong, that it is somehow allowed, somehow less dangerous and justified. Completely blinded by his own sense of superiority, never once seeing just how dangerous his feelings of being above the law can become, (definitely not seeing it when eventually regarding his darling).

Secondly: we have to take a look at how Midoriya views love.

Because Midoriya is such an intelligent person who knows the natural laws and works behind love, knowing how it’s simply a chemical reaction made to make animals breed with nothing supernatural or mystical or heavenly about it, he’ll naturally have a very unromantic and practical approach to finding a partner. He’ll want to resist falling prey to dependence.

But, even he cannot fight the vicious bite of loneliness. Finding a perfect someone after so many years of resisting and ignoring and denying those primal urges obviously gets to him in the end, where finding his darling feels almost like godsend. Which was exactly what he was trying to avoid falling prey to, where he was aiming to rise above regular human needs, regular human beliefs regarding love: a concept he had no faith in, a concept he didn't want to have any faith in, but fell for anyway.

However, while beholding his darling as something precious, his own God complex gets in the way of viewing her as his equal, where she’ll often feel as though he doesn’t even view her as human, more like a pet or even a plant, not something to communicate with, but something that should sit still and look pretty, something to maintain and admire, not intelligent like him.

But, there are different types of smarts in the world. Whereas Izuku has practical, social and analytical intelligence, he’s more or less let go or forgotten about true emotional intelligence. Which is something that will surprise him about his darling, or something that will surprise him about himself, how much he enjoys her presence, her humanity, her basic straightforward moralistic compassion, her need for contact, things he’s long ago forgotten, things he’s only now realizing that he’s missed dearly. At first he believes he’s simply entertained by her, but then he realizes he quite admires her, envies her even, because she’s innocent enough to feel things that he no longer can.

Thirdly: we have his yandere characteristics: sadistic, obsessive, possessive.

-Sadism (groundwork)

It is simply my belief that all yanderes have an inch of sadism dwelling inside them, because I find it hard to digest that any other human without such desires would enjoy controlling another human being. However, the amount of sadism inside may vary drastically.

Midoriya’s sadistic tendencies lies dormant, yet can come out at any given moment, making him rather radical, as in unstable or unpredictable. Though, not like an animal is unpredictable, as he will never act without finesse, he will never act without having complete control over the situation, including himself. We have to remember that Izuku takes great pleasure in knowing how he can rise above impulses. His sadism is more like a hunger that arises every now and again, where which Izuku realizes he is hungry, followed by Izuku luring and trapping his food then playing with his food and finally eating his food. Executed with finesse.

-Obsessive (one side of the coin)

Obsessiveness in general: is not just about laying worship, not just about adoring someone so much that it hurts, it’s about needing someone, needing someone so much that it outweighs and overcomes all obstacles that stand in his way to achieve having them

Obsessiveness in Midoriya: is slightly delusional, where which it tells him that him and his darling belongs together, where he’s optimistic that time will eventually gift him with her love in return. This is his softer side, his more lenient side, his understanding side, his tolerant side. And despite it being slightly delusional, this is actually his more logical side as well, where he’ll bare patient understanding that it’ll take time for her to reform herself, where he takes her emotional status into mind.

-Possessive (the other side of the coin)

Possessiveness in general: is not only about ownership, not only about restrictions, it’s about fear, it’s about reassurance, it’s about finding security in knowing that he and only he will ever have the liberty of having his darling, where he finds an inane amount of uneasiness in thinking she wasn’t always his, needing to find a way to make him forget that disgusting thought by having her belong to him in every single possible way.

Possessiveness in Midoriya: is slightly denialistic and protective, where it tells him that she belongs to him, no exceptions, no room to misunderstand, where what she feels doesn’t really matter because he loves her, he’s chosen her, and she’s simply not allowed to love anybody else, where any refusal will be corrected, will be proven futile.

Fourthly: what is Midoriya’s attitude towards his darling:

Here we add up everything we’ve just considered!

His intelligence calls for a type of deserved arrogance, a vain imagery of himself, making him a narcissist, which again makes him prone to dumbification when approaching his darling, manipulative suggestive language constantly making her feel like her rightful place is beneath him. This can be done in many ways, more so than degrading verbal comments. In visual effects: he can dress her up in innocent clothing just oozing with childlike naivety, braid her hair, decorate her with pastel bows all making her look like a sweet harmless little thing, but more importantly making her feel like a sweet harmless little thing. He can also act out degradation: through head-pats, carrying her places, bathing her. One can even take it so far as infantilization.

Obviously, the creation of rules and laws will build, also the product of his degrading nature, where the list of things his darling can and can't do or should or must do will grow longer over time as he finds that he quite enjoys having this type of control. I believe Izuku is quite lenient but has a breaking point. He won’t enjoy punishing his darling for every single little indiscretion she dares make, believing that this is both time consuming and a waste. His method is to wait until his darling has made a certain amount of faults, her mistakes topping each other like building blocks until the tower eventually tumbles, where which he will deliver a rather large punishment meant to correct her attitude once and for all, or at least until the tower topples again.

He’ll constantly be making a case of how much smarter and stronger he is than her, not in an aggressive way, but in a demeaning, patronizing way, often accompanied by him smiling a chiding smile that looks sweet yet when accompanied by his threatening eyes just look like teeth. Exercising dominance will become like a drug to him, where I’d say he’ll develop both a daddy-kink and a size-kink. His daddy-kink calling for patronizing behavior, teaching her manners and posture and punishing her when she refrains from doing what daddy tells her. And, his size-kink evokes the love to measure everything of his up against everything of hers, often comparing her soft petite precious hands to his deadly scarred ones, how she has no chance of pushing him away whereas he’ll have no problems in crushing her skull if he so wished.

Then of course, his feelings of entitlement call for him taking giant liberties when he’s craving she give him something she’d rather keep to herself. These entitlement feelings coming to fruition through his status as the world number one hero, his morals disappearing in those seconds he manages to twist his view of his darling as her own person into seeing her as his reward, as the world’s way of saying thank you, made simply to please him and having no purpose outside of him.

But, his idealization of his darling encourages him to pamper her, or at least in a way that he views as pampering. He’ll often ask her if there’s anything that she may want, either it be a wish for activity such as art supplies or reading material, or accessories such as jewelry, lingerie, cute little dresses. And when she never asks for anything he wants her to ask for, when her response is always a demand that he let her go, he’ll give her something anyway, something she’ll cry so preciously for to make him stop.

Obviously, I have expanded my view of him here, but I believe the key attitude he’ll carry towards his darling is simply being sweetly degrading, demeaning and patronizing.

Fifthly: how would he go about sharing?

In order for him to feel comfortable enough to share his darling with someone, they have to be someone he respects, someone he can almost look at as an equal or someone he looks up to and idolizes.

In other words: Midoriya will have to love his yandere partner in some form or way to share his beloved darling with them, either it be through mentioned respect, or through loyalty, where platonic or fluid friendship could also be a possibility.

Here are some examples I see being possible poly relationships:

MIDORIYA - ALL MIGHT - relationship based on idolization MIDORIYA - BAKUGO - relationship based on equality/respect MIDORIYA - SHINSO - relationship based on admiration/respect MIDORIYA - “FAN or FREIND” - relationship based on loyalty/trust MIDORIYA - URUAKA/TENYA - relationship based on friendship

I don't see sharing being much of a problem, unless the darling picks favorites. But, because Midoriya is likely much softer than the other yandere, I’m presuming, the favorite will probably be him and not his partner. In that case, he might really like having a parter to compete with! He’ll enjoy how she’ll resort to pleading with and appealing to his soft nature as opposed to the other yandere. He’ll probably love that sort of attention.

I also think Midoriya will like cornering his darling with the help of his partner, trapping her together. I can definitely see him love playing good cop/bad cop. Perhaps even sharing the daddy-kink. Dynamics like Daddy/Master/”DARLING” or Sir/Boss/”DARLING”.

Also, I think he’ll love gossiping about their darling with each other behind her back, talking about how cute she is when she does this or that, how lovely she looks in that specific dress, how well-behaved she’s gotten, and all sorts of stuff, kind of like parents talking about their child.

#yandere midoriya #yandere mha #yandere midoriya izuku #yandere my hero academia #yandere deku #yandere izuku #yandere izuku midoriya #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere bnha #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya #midoriya #midoriya headcanons #midoriya izuku #mha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku

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wonderlustlucas · 4 years

Text

jack pot ; part 1 - hwang hyunjin

⇢ prompt You know it’s bad when you’re high as a kite and he’s still on your mind. ⇢ pairing hwang hyunjin x female reader, seo changbin x female reader for like 2 minutes ⇢ word count 7.5k ⇢ genre fluff, angst (not heavy, just in a slow burn kind of way), slight smut ⇢ warnings drug use!!! & lots of it (marijuana), grinding, implied smut ⇢ summary College is a matter of working hard and playing hard. It’s an opportunity to start fresh, to grow as an individual and to blossom with those you befriend. People come and people go, leaving their mark on your life and showing you all the parts of becoming an adult. Some, however, do more than leave their mark. Some take just as much as they give. Things become complicated once they take the entirety of your love because you outright offered it to them.—college!au ; stoner!au ; friends to lovers!au ⇢ a/n yo!!! disclaimer: this initially was going to just be a long one shot but i decided to split it up into 3 parts, so just to let u all know part 1 & 2 does not have a ton of hyunjin interaction, they’re more character/plot building. part 3 is when things will get spicy ♥︎ i hope u enjoy! if u rb make sure to let me know what u thought in the tags mwah also i finally switched from ___ to yn are u guys proud of me :)

prelude.

Sometimes you really, truly, honestly think you could go right ahead and kill Han Jisung.

You say it all the time. Sometimes it’s a simple, “I will literally kill you,” or when you are feeling extra spicy, “Sleep with one eye open tonight.” He, of course, laughs it off like you aren’t vibrating with the urge to kick his kneecaps in. You seriously have lost count of all the times he has brought you to the brink of insanity.

And honestly, you have watched enough murder documentaries on Netflix that you probably could do it, but, you know, spending the rest of your life in prison does not sound that appealing. Plus, there’s the ever-troubling detail that Han Jisung is the closest thing you have to a best friend. So, it sort of goes against your basic human morals to backstab—literally—the most important human in your life.

But he really makes you crazy. Why you agreed to share an apartment with him in the first place is a mystery, but the fact that you leased it again for junior year is what really makes you lose sleep at night. Because, while he may be your best friend, Jisung is the epitome of a little shit. If such a compound word was in the dictionary, it simply would say ‘Han Jisung.’ Somehow, though, it makes you love him even more. Maybe it’s true that ‘opposites attract,’ or, perhaps, maybe it’s because no matter how much embarrassment and general self-loathing he may have caused you in the past, it has benefitted you in the end.

For example, his constant teasing about your lack of friends eventually led to you befriending a group of girls you always admired from afar. His snarky comments concerning your nonexistent social life finally got to you and now you can proudly wear the title of one of the best beer pong players in your class. His presence in general has taught you to stand up for yourself and what you believe in, whether it’s against him, your parents, a toxic friend, hell, even a professor. Proving people wrong, especially Jisung, is your favorite pastime.

Sometimes, though, it’s not that easy.

There’s one area in your life where you have accepted defeat. One area in your life where Jisung has his most fun. One area, or, perhaps one person, where you simply cannot step beyond your comfort zone.

Hwang Hyunjin is your Achilles tendon and Jisung is the arrow. There are times, along with all the times you’ve considered strangling Jisung in his sleep, where you have sat and actually prayed to the gods to send someone else. Someone not nearly as perfect as Hyunjin and someone not nearly as unattainable. Alas, these prayers, hook-ups, Tinder dates, anything to get him off your mind has proved futile; because here you are three years later, stuck with this stupid, absolutely infuriating crush on the only boy who has ever owned your heart because you outright gave it to him.

one.

You are beginning to think the two bubbly junior girls who led the campus tour you attended last year lied about the dining hall.

Correction: they one hundred percent lied.

Because even though the newly renovated food court looks nice—unscratched linoleum floors, shiny marble countertops and all sorts of seating to choose from—there must be something fishy going on with the cooks. Literally. Just last week, an upperclassman had a breakdown when she forked into her tuna (why anyone would want college seafood is another story) to find a worm right there in the middle of it. You have found little shards of glass in the yogurt and bugs even at You-Cook, but that’s all a part of the college experience, right?

“Are you sure there’s no spiders or anything? Did you check?” Beside you, Maddie watches with furrowed brows as you spoon a hefty serving of scrambled eggs onto your plate. Chuckling, you move down to grab a few sausages and a chocolate chip muffin before they are gone for the rest of the day; Lord knows, you are only a month in and carbohydrates have quickly become your emotional support, just like everyone else. “Yes, I checked,” you assure her, hiding a laugh with your hand as she leans over to further scrutinize the eggs, “I didn’t see any arachnids.”

“Good,” she hums, satisfied with your answer, “can you grab a banana muffin for me? They’re usually at the bottom.”

Nodding, you turn back to the blessed muffin basket, pushing away blueberry, corn, double chocolate, all because Maddie has to be different and go for the macadamia nut banana.

“Are those the dinosaur socks they were selling on move-in day?” In front of you, someone asks, and your first instinct is to look down at your feet just to confirm. 8:30 calculus simply turns your brain to mush and remembering how you dressed for the day is near impossible. “Yes!” Laughing, you lift your leg to get a closer look at the cute green t-rexes on skates. “I was sold once I heard they were a dollar.”

Tearing your gaze away from said socks, you look up and suddenly feel as if you have bumped into an angel. Maybe there were spiders in the eggs, deadly poisonous spiders that crawled up the spoon while you weren’t paying attention and bit your hand and now you are dead and this is the angel leading you to the heavens. That, or this simply is the most beautiful human you have ever seen up close and your brain does not know how to process it. Well, maybe that’s a little extreme, but you definitely have never been so starstruck in your life.

The boy in front of you says something but you don’t hear it, senses and thoughts momentarily Off™ as you gawk at him. Aside from the deep undereye bags you all have claimed the past few weeks, this stranger is as close to perfect as you can get. Sure, Seungmin and his roommates are pretty cute—but what the fuck?

Something tells you that you have been silently staring at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open for far too long when his brows raise in a mix of confusion and expectation. Shit. What did he say? Synapses suddenly shooting like fireworks in your brain, you desperately try to remember his reply but instead, all you had focused on was the plumpness of his lips as he spoke and not the words themselves.

Clearing your throat, you blink once, twice, hoping you were hallucinating the whole time and the boy in front of you is not Hercules incarnate.

Lucky for you or him, you can’t tell, but he is still as attractive as he was two seconds ago. “Sorry, what?” You blurt, loud, too loud, flinching at the sound of your own voice. Instead of recognizing that you are totally off your rocker, he smiles, a soft, toothy smile that has your muscles turning to goo.

“I said I bought them, too,” cutest-boy-in-the-universe repeats, looking down and you follow his gaze, “my roommates were making fun of me, so I’m glad I finally found someone who bought them.” Alas, as he tugs at the fabric of his jeans to slightly lift the cuff you see that he, too, wears the same socks. You think you’re in love.

“Well, your roommates clearly have no taste,” you deadpan, shakily meeting his eyes once he looks back up. He laughs softly, eyes scrunching at the action and you positively swoon until silence settles over you and he takes the opportunity to regard you, gaze sweeping down your frame and up again. You hold your breath because, 1) holy shit, you would get on your knees for him right now and 2) you suddenly wish you were wearing more than the ‘just-woke-up-to-get-pegged-by-calc’ fit.

“I’m Hyunjin,” he finally says and you release all the air trapped in your lungs. “YN,” you return, grasping his outreached hand and thanking the heavens it is as sweaty as yours. “Well, it was nice to meet you, YN,” Hyunjin proceeds, releasing your hand and offering a gentle smile.

“You too, Mr. Sock Man,” you grin, rocking on your heels and realizing with a pang of disappointment that your breakfast has probably gone cold. Well, that’s okay, because right now you are totally content standing here in the middle of the dining hall, silently staring at this Hyunjin with a stupid smile plastered on your face. And the best part? He apparently is just fine doing that, too.

“YN!” Somewhere behind you, Maddie calls your name and it thrusts you head-first back into reality. “Did you find a banana muffin? I can’t find— oh. Who’s this?” Appearing beside you, visibly shocked having found you in a staring contest with a very tall, very cute boy. “Oh, uh,” you huff out a laugh, scrambling to get yourself together, “Hyunjin, this is Maddie, my roommate. Maddie, this is Hyunjin. We have the same socks.”

Brows shooting up at the puzzling introduction, Maddie bites back a laugh and looks back and forth between you and Hyunjin. “Well, you don’t hear that every day,” smiling to hide her confusion, she offers him a small wave with her hand full of muffin packs, “nice to meet you.”

Hyunjin smiles in return, gaze quickly returning to you. “I’ll be off, then. Gotta get the waffles while they’re still warm. I’ll see you around.”

And before you know it, he’s off toward the other end of the breakfast counter.

“Um, what the fuck?” Maddie whispers excitedly as you make your way toward your usual table, elbow repeatedly jabbing into your side. “I have no idea what just happened. I think I’m dreaming,” you sigh blissfully, relieved to find that Jisung and Seungmin were able to claim your favorite booth. “No, definitely not dreaming. He’s totally into you. You have to hang out.”

“What?” You sputter, nearly tripping over your own two feet. Then, lowering your voice as you near the two boys, “I – no, he isn’t. How can you tell? That was like, the cutest guy I’ve ever talked to, and you think he’s into me?”

“Who’s the cutest guy ever?” Jisung pipes up, eyes lighting up and you curse him and his fucking bat hearing.

“No one,” you grumble, smiling softly at Seungmin when he gets up so you don’t have to sit on the end, leaving Maddie to sit next to the other one. “Is it me?” Jisung grins with a flutter of his eyelashes. He’s convinced the only reason you dislike him is because you’ve actually fallen in love with him, but that’s far from the truth. You don’t even dislike him—he’s just one of the first guys you’ve met who meets your sarcasm with as much ferocity, and that is a hard pill to swallow.

“In your dreams, Han,” you sneer, gracing him with a dramatic eye roll before tearing open the bag of your muffin. Comfortable conversation quickly falls into place as you eat, complaints about your classes, Seungmin trying to convince you to join them at the first party they will be attending while Jisung mocks you for wanting to stay home, Maddie asking where Felix is and Seungmin explaining that he got so high last night he ended up staying up past four playing Overwatch and is currently sleeping past all his classes.

Then, in the midst of guzzling your apple juice, Jisung leans out of his seat to call down the aisle. “Hwang! Come pull a chair over!”

Curiosity peaked, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and crane your neck to see over Seungmin’s fat head for who this ‘Hwang’ could be until, like the universe is really trying to kill you, the Hyunjin you met not even ten minutes ago has reached your table. “Hey,” he grins brightly, dabbing up the two boys before he glances to you, mouth promptly falling open. Certain you mirror the same expression, you struggle to find your words as Jisung and Seungmin look between you in shared confusion. “First we share socks, now it’s these dumpheads?”

Ignoring the way they scowl, Hyunjin giggles shamelessly and grabs a chair from an adjacent table to sit at the head of your booth. “It would seem that way.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. You guys know each other?” Jisung scoffs in disbelief, pointedly looking at you as if you’ve gone and disproved everything he pegged of you. “We just met,” Hyunjin replies with a shy smile, sparing you a quick glance before cutting into his waffle. Jisung looks to you and you offer an affirmative nod.

“And how are you guys friends?” Maddie asks, sensing your panic. “He’s Changbin and Minho’s roommate,” Seungmin answers.

You choke on a mouthful of juice.

“Christ, you good?” Seungmin snickers, offering a few slaps to your back. With a muffled yes, you look to Hyunjin with pleading eyes. “Please don’t tell them I said they have no taste.”

He laughs, arching a brow at you. “No way. They’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Oh, Christ,” faking a cry, you bury your face into your palms, “so much for making friends.”

“It’s okay, YN,” Jisung soothes with faux sympathy, “no one wants to be your friend anyway.”

Scoffing, the table quickly falls silent when you look up with rage in your eyes. “I bet when someone asks your parents about you, they change the subject,” you spit, shooting daggers at him before stabbing your fork into an innocent chunk of egg. To your utmost surprise but total delight, the other three burst into a fit of laughter, leaving you smirking smugly and Jisung sulking.

“Anyway,” Maddie promptly changes the subject back to her chemistry professor who has started every class playing Britney Spears. Tucked away in your corner finishing the last of your sausage and stifling the urge to get up for more, it isn’t until Hyunjin begins to speak do you realize that you have been quietly watching him the entire time. You would blame the soft morning sunshine shining through the windows and illuminating the right side of his face for making him look so ethereal, but you know that isn’t the case; from short, messy black hair, silver hoop earrings, thick, defined brows, the soft curves of his nose and the pouty fullness of his lips, you are totally, completely mesmerized.

And then, the sole of a sneaker is slammed right into your shin. “OW!” You yelp, loud, and for a moment you forget the pain in favor of the embarrassment that comes with the number of heads that turn to look at you. “Sorry. Bit my tongue,” you lie, earning an unconvinced look from Maddie. “Go on,” you nod toward Hyunjin to continue whatever he was saying before directing a furious glare to Jisung, who fails to hide his triumphant smirk as he enthusiastically types on his phone.

Just as you have bent down to rub at your throbbing leg, your phone vibrates twice against the table.

han jisung [now] stop staring, ur lucky hwang is as dense as a rock or he would have left a long time ago bc of you

han jisung [now] so THAT’S the ‘cutest guy ever’ huh? so ur straight after all

Squeezing your hands into fists, you prepare to fire back a reply that will have him crying. But he has different plans.

“Oh, Hyunjin, did YN tell you she’s a dancer, too?” He exaggerates your previous mention of dancing and has the audacity to wink at you. Thanks, Mr. Match Maker.

“Really?” Hyunjin gasps excitedly, eyes lighting up and totally missing the flabbergasted what? that sputters from your lips.

“I – well, no,” you hiss, scowling at Jisung, “I used to do ballet when I was younger but that’s it. Why, though? Do you dance?”

“He’s here on a scholarship,” Seungmin explains, “and minors in creative writing.”

“Oh,” you squeak, glancing to Hyunjin who is all but smiling like a cherub, completely oblivious, “that’s amazing. You must have a crazy schedule.” Chewing the last of his waffle, he hums in agreement. “Yeah, it gets really stressful at times. But it’s worth it,” Hyunjin chuckles. Then fucking winks.

Unable to hold his gaze, you whip your head back around in a panic and reach for the mere sip left of your juice. “Speaking of crazy schedules,” he hums, slapping both Jisung and Seungmin on the shoulders, “I must head out. This was fun. I may start crashing the party more now.” Rising from his seat, Hyunjin swings his bag over a shoulder and grins brightly. Realizing it would be rude to not say goodbye, you force yourself to look back to him and offer a feeble wave.

“And YN, don’t bite your tongue when you eat, yeah?”

You’re going to pass out.

two.

Felix likes to think of you as his corrupted child when it comes to smoking weed.

A few weeks before you would all be returning home for winter break, he came knocking on your door with a proposition. “No one wants to smoke with me. Do you want to?”

This, for sure, was not what you were expecting on a cold Tuesday night in December. Despite the general curiosity and always wanting to ‘try it’ simply to feel like a teenager breaking the rules, you told him you never smoked before. “I know,” he said with a smile, “that’s why I’m asking.”

So, you agreed. Reaching for your hand, Felix snuck you out the window and led you halfway across campus to the junior parking lot, giving you ample opportunities to back out when he felt how badly you were shaking. “Whose car is this?” You laughed in disbelief when he unlocked a beaten-up Nissan near the outskirts of the lot.

“Kim Woojin. The junior?” He replied once you settled in the passenger seat next to him. “Oh.” You blinked, confused. “He lets you smoke in his car?”

“He gets me weed, too,” Felix giggled, reaching into the pockets of his sweatshirt and coming out with two tightly wrapped blunts, each about two inches long, “I’ll turn the heat on a little so we don’t freeze but we have to keep the windows open. I’m not going to have you hotbox for your first time.” You had no idea what that meant, but you agreed nonetheless.

With a brief lesson on what to do that truly made no sense until you tried it for yourself, Felix lit the blunt, took a few small hits to get it started, and then passed it to you. Holding it gingerly between your thumb and index finger, you brought the unlit end to your lips and sucked as he instructed ‘like a straw,’ breathing it into your lungs and ignoring the faint taste of smoke. Unsure of when to stop, it wasn’t until your throat felt as if it was on fire did you realize just how much you had inhaled.

“Shit,” you wheezed, coughing and choking and watching with wide eyes at the amount of cloudy white smoke that left your mouth and nostrils. Passing it back to Felix, you scrambled for the cold water bottle he brought along, downing half of it in one go to soothe the burn. “Good?” He asked, blowing out the window and turning back to you with eyes full of concern.

“Yeah,” you huffed, “give me a few, though.”

Humming in agreement, Felix connected his phone to the car’s Bluetooth and began playing what he calls his ‘getting high playlist,’ and before long, you fell in love with the feeling.

When break was over, you were dying to try it again. Felix was more than happy to be of service.

For all of March, it turned into a daily thing.

Now, you try to smoke only once a week for the sake of not dying, or something.

australian felix kjellberg❤️ [now] come hang at 201?

When the text notification pops up in the corner of your laptop screen amid your YouTube binge, your bones jitter with a mix of dread and excitement.

Dread, because that’s Hyunjin’s room. Excitement, because that’s Hyunjin’s room.

Maddie must hear your sigh. “What’s wrong?” She asks from her cozied position in bed, hand deep in a bag of popcorn.

“It’s Felix,” you start, “but he said to go to Hyunjin’s room.”

She blinks, unfazed. “And? I don’t see the problem here.”

“Well, I don’t know,” you count on your fingers, “first, I don’t know how to act around Hyunjin sober. Second, I don’t know how to act around Hyunjin high. Third, I am very touchy when high. Fourth, Hyunjin is always touchy.”

Maddie scoffs. “That’s a pretty lame argument, YN,” she laughs, “isn’t that what you want to happen?”

“Well,” she’s got a point, “yes, but it still makes me nervous. He makes me nervous.” Closing your laptop, you shimmy out of bed and debate changing out of your cotton shorts and tee shirt. Nah. You’ll probably end up going back to Felix’s and sleeping there. You put a sports bra and deodorant on and call it a day.

Maddie finds this hilarious. “You know what should make you nervous? The fact that you’re usually the only girl getting high with, what? Six guys? You know they all want to fuck you.”

“I try not to think about that, actually,” cringing, you try to erase Felix’s voice when he’s high as a kite or Changbin’s arms from your mind, “and you don’t know that. Sometimes Ryujin and Lia are there. Or, you know, you could always come. You don’t have to smoke, just come hang out. I know you want to give Minho a fat smooch.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “I love you, and I appreciate the invite, but I don’t feel like babysitting a bunch of stoners, even if Minho is there.”

Laughing, all you can offer her is a shrug. “I don’t blame you,” grabbing your phone, wallet, and charger, you make your way over to her and bend over to press a goodnight kiss to her forehead, “if you need me, don’t. I’ll probably be dead.”

“Oh Lord,” Maddie cackles, watching you struggle to open the window, “don’t die. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’ll try,” you grin, military saluting once you’ve managed to flop over the ledge. With one last wave, you close the window behind you and thank admissions for giving you a room on the first floor.

[9:34 PM] YN: omw now, gather your forces to help me in :)

Nights in 201 are always interesting. First, their room is on the second floor, so climbing through the window is an experience. Things would be a hell of a lot easier if you could just walk in and out of residence halls as you please, but with the officer at the front desk documenting who comes in and who goes out, there would be a knock at the door at midnight asking you to leave. Second: as Maddie said, 201 means the whole squad is showing up. And when the whole squad shows up, you’re bound to feel a mix of anxiety and desire deep within your bones no matter how hard set you are on Mr. Hwang. And third: you know you’re in for one fucked up night.

[9:42 PM] YN: hereee

Standing awkwardly behind their building, you try and calm the nerves that always come when you know you will be with Hyunjin. Considering how close the two of you have become over the past few months, one would think you would have gotten a grip on those pesky feelings.

Yet again, it’s kind of hard to do that when he looks and acts like that all the time.

When the window slides open, you are expecting Changbin to hang halfway out for you to grab on to with the rest of them holding onto his legs. Instead, a tall, metal ladder of sorts is pushed out until it lands with a thud! at your feet, granting you a perfect staircase into the room.

Well, you certainly don’t see that every day.

Blinking in confusion, you do not know whether to focus on the crowd of boys waving at you from above or this abomination of a stepstool that was practically thrown out a window for you. Accepting the chain of events as just another fever dream of an experience in 201, you shake your head and begin to ascend on shaky legs, graciously taking Jisung’s hand and clinging to both him and Seungmin as they help you into the room. “Thanks,” you huff, giving them both a hug in return to their chivalry. And they dare say it’s dead!

Behind you, Changbin and Hyunjin lift the ladder-stepstool mutation back into the room and it isn’t until they have folded it into a more compact piece and set it against the wall do you speak up.

“Did you… buy a ladder?”

“Yes!” Minho bellows, thrilled by your successful entrance. “Isn’t it great?” After pulling back from a hug, he keeps his hands on your shoulders just to shake you like a bobble-head.

“Yes,” you grunt once he’s released you, head swimming, “a lot easier than hauling both me and Changbin through the window, right?” Looking to said boy, you can’t help but melt into his side when he pulls you close. “No worries,” Changbin beams, rubbing your arm, “at least we have some funny memories now.” When he moves to flop onto his bed, you realize with a shudder that you are alone with Hyunjin.

Well, technically not alone since they are all right there, but alone in the sense that they are not paying attention to you nor him.

“Hey, YN. I missed you,” he singsongs, engulfing you in one of his monster bear hugs. Disregarding the heart palpitations they may cause, Hyunjin’s hugs are truly the best and you wish you would initiate them more if it didn’t seem like such a big deal in that smooth brain of yours. “I missed you, too,” you mutter into his chest, squeezing your arms around him as if to engrave this feeling into your mind forever. “We saw each other, like, five hours ago,” he reminds you, finally pulling back and taking your will to live with him. God, he has no idea.

“And? You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me suicidal,” you lie because, in reality, he actually does. Just in a different way. “Aw,” he coos, large hand squeezing your side and you think you could orgasm on command, “good thing we have tonight, then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you squeak, finally remembering to breathe when he steps away to sit beside Seungmin on his bed. Suddenly, you are feeling incredibly grateful no one is next to Changbin because, well, 1) he is closer to Felix and 2), you need a distraction.

“Hello, Felix,” you greet the boy sunk deep in a bean bag chair, busy grinding leaves and packing them into the bowl of a bong. “How are you this fine evening, YN?” He asks once you have settled beside Changbin, brows knitting together when the older boy drapes his arm around your waist.

“Good. Tired, though. How ‘bout you?”

“You didn’t have to come if you’re tired! We all know you work your ass off, no one’s gonna judge if you chose to stay home and sleep,” Felix expresses, giving you a look that screams ‘mom.’

“No! I’m not that tired,” you assure him, reaching for his hand and squeezing for extra effect, “you know I wouldn’t miss this. You’ve made me a pothead.”

With a proud smile, he returns to his designated job and begins working on the second, smaller bong. “So,” stretching to set your things on the desk beside Changbin’s bed, you turn to him with a knowing smile, “how’s the album coming?”

“Great!” He beams, eyes lighting up at the topic. “Jisung is a great addition. Did I tell you we started meeting with someone else, too?”

“No, who?”

“He’s a sophomore, Bang Chan?” Somewhere behind you, Felix passes a bong to Jisung for the first hit. “Bang Chan? Holy shit, Binnie,” repeatedly punching his arm to express your excitement, “that’s amazing! I didn’t know he was into music production. Not that I’ve ever talked to him, but.”

“No, I get you,” he hums, giving your side a firm squeeze, “he’s really awesome making beats. I hope we’re successful.” Then, reaching past you, he takes the second bong and a lighter from Felix. When he resituates himself, he’s considerably closer than before. You don’t mind.

“Ladies first?” Changbin offers with a crooked grin, handing them to you. Then, on second thought, he holds onto the lighter to do the honors. “Sure. Thanks,” you laugh, glancing across the room to find everyone arguing over which color to set the lights to as they wait for their high. Bringing the tube to your lips, you offer a miniscule nod to him and then he is setting flame to the bowl. Sucking strong enough to generate bubbles, you unplug the bowl once he stops and breathe in as much as your lungs can handle in one go. Then, once you have exhaled, you quickly finish what’s left in the tube before passing it to Changbin with a pleased smile.

“That was a lot,” he points out once you have handed the bong back to him. “Hey, you’re the one who kept lighting it for thirty seconds. Mother would be proud,” you joke, reciprocating the same service and lighting the bowl until he glares at you beneath his bangs.

The best part about being high is the fact that you are constantly laughing. Things won’t even be that funny, but once someone starts laughing—you’re done for. You laugh so hard it hurts, and then once it’s all over, you realize it wasn’t funny at all. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a squirrel?” Minho asks Jisung at some point. You absolutely loose it. It quite possibly is the funniest thing you have ever heard.

Pouting, Squirrel Boy leaves Minho alone on his bed to come crash beside you. “How are you, my tender oozing blossom?”

Squinting at him past the way your eyes burn, you make grabby hands and pull him close to wrap your arms around his teeny waist. Changbin grumbles in protest, but he’s too transfixed on the light’s soft in and out fade of different colors to say anything else. “Please, don’t ever call me that again,” you mumble into Jisung’s mop of brown hair.

“What?” He gasps, tilting to look up at you with puppy eyes. “You didn’t like it?”

“Nope,” smiling lazily, you rest your head atop his, “I love you, but I’m not ready for pet names yet.” His face morphs from a frown to one lit with excitement. “Holy shit, did you just say you love me? Do my eyes deceive me?”

“That would be your ‘ears,’ but yes,” you hum, brain simply not capable of denying it the way your sober self would. “More than Changbin?” Jisung whispers.

“Yes, but don’t tell him,” you return quietly, biting back a laugh.

“More than Hyunjin?” He counters. At this, you look up to find said boy sat with his legs to his chest across the room. Next to Seungmin, he looks like a giant; but a happy, pouty giant that keeps talking about how much he could go for a winter melon tea right now.

“Never.”

One and a half (half because it was just the rest of Minho’s terribly big hit that left tears streaming down his cheeks) and an unfinished game of Cards Against Humanity later, you find yourself in a blissful headspace. The song playing quietly through Felix’s speaker makes it feel like you are bouncing down stairs and then going up again, and the lights are oh so pretty, pink fading to red, yellow to green, blue to purple and so on. Things are fuzzy but crystal clear at the same time, the popcorn you’ve been shoveling into your mouth tastes heavenly, and your body feels like it is engulfed in a warm, comforting hug.

Or, that could just be Changbin.

Somewhere in between trying to get more comfortable and him yanking you to stay next to him when you attempted to get up and hug Seungmin for something sweet he said, you now find yourself on your back with a clinging Changbin on your side. You are so comfortable, but also insanely hot, and as you begin to slowly come down from your high as the hours tick by, you begin to realize it’s for another reason.

What started as an innocent hand on your side turned into his thumb rubbing meaningless patterns against your shirt, which then turned into his hand slipping beneath to splay against the warmth of your skin. Growing increasingly needy as the minutes go by, you turn to look at everyone around you. Jisung, who found himself returning to Minho, appears to be passed out with him on the far end of the room. Seungmin, curled up on the floor with a pillow and a heap of blankets. Felix, who finished off the rest of his weed, scrolls aimlessly on his phone still at the peak of his high.

And Hyunjin, who you assume has been fast asleep on his bed for a while now if the arm flung over his face tells you anything. For a moment, you feel sick with sadness. So close, but so far he lies, always a step out of reach. But you can’t deny how Changbin makes you feel—for right now, at least. And it would be a shame to miss out on an opportunity with someone else because the one you want is unattainable.

Right?

Changbin must sense the way your breathing increases, must feel the way your body reacts to the slightest of touches, yet he takes his time. He is soft in the way his hand travels up your arm, rough fingertips grazing over your collarbones before smoothing down over your chest and abdomen. It isn’t until you are about to burst at the seams does he give your ass a strong squeeze and urge your leg over his hips.

“Changbin,” you sigh, biting your lip to keep from whimpering when he begins pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the length of your throat. “Please touch me.”

He only makes a sound of agreement, savoring the way you squirm and grip onto his arm for dear life. When he offers an experimental roll of his hips to grind against you, you practically go feral. The last time you were touched in such a way was at a party in the beginning of the semester Jisung and co. physically forced you to go to, and Changbin has barely even touched you and it’s already better than the rushed sex you had that night.

“Wait,” he huffs, pausing his ministrations no matter how difficult it is to do so, “we can’t.”

“What?” You hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, “why?”

“Because you’re high, and I’m high, and I’m not going to do anything unless you really want me to,” Changbin explains, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips when you frown in response. “But I do want you to,” you huff, chasing his mouth for another, “I trust you one hundred percent.”

“Are you sure, YN?” What about Hyunjin? is what he really means and you know he’s right. You should have never told Felix.

Trying to ignore the wetness of your underwear, you turn to lie on your back. “Whatever. Never mind,” you mumble, and when you glance back to him, you can’t help the way your heart soars with him still pressed closely to your side, blinking tiredly at you. But like he said, it’s not Hyunjin. “Just get some sleep, Binnie. Forget it happened,” smiling past the tears that threaten to spill, you ruffle his hair and press a softer kiss to his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Changbin whispers, returning the affection with a kiss to your shoulder. In minutes, he is snoring softly beside you.

You can’t fall asleep to save your life.

Reaching for your phone to check the time, you grit your teeth once you realize it’s almost four and you definitely have been staring at the ceiling for more than an hour. For starters, you are freezing now; unlike these passed out hooligans, you are showing a lot more skin and not being under the blankets is not doing you well. And secondly, it’s hard to fall asleep when your thoughts are flying miles a minute.

Is this how it’s going to be, then? Whenever you see someone, will the little guy on your shoulder whisper in your ear that it’s not Hyunjin? Or will people deem you off limits because they know of your infatuation? People who know, at least—Changbin is the first, apparently.

Just need to get comfy, you decide, trying to ignore such thoughts and turning to lie on your stomach. Bless Felix for leaving the lights on, too—you may be coming down from your high, but the vibe is simply immaculate. Tucking a hand under your cheek and following the ropes of light on the ceiling and up the walls, you find this to be enough to calm your nerves. Enough to make your eyelids heavy. Finally.

Someone lets out a monster train snore. Seungmin, you think, biting your lip to keep from laughing. Or, it could be Hyunjin. The thought is so amusing you can’t help but squint at the boy across from you to better see his outline, hoping he will do it again just to confirm.

No, not Hyunjin.

Because he’s facing you, eyes open, a soft smile plastered on his face. Well, fuck.

No reason to panic, you console yourself, returning a gentle smile in the assumption he can even see you. And you stay like that for a while, simply watching one another for an infinite amount of time. It’s not much, but it means something, you think, lost in the way the contours and highlights of his face change with each color the lights fade to. Just as you remember the whole point of getting on your stomach was to fall asleep, Hyunjin moves. Reaching for his phone, you watch in confusion as he brings it close to his face and starts typing.

hwang hyunjin👁👄👁 [now] Come sleep w me?

You almost throw up in your mouth. You must be dreaming. Surely.

Blinking against the harsh light of your phone, you cannot help your smile as you reread the text.

[4:02 am] YN: wont that b a little sus for bin

[4:02 am] hwang hyunjin👁👄👁: If anyone asks just say he kept kicking u or something

You don’t need to be told twice. Now that he has turned onto his side facing the other direction, Changbin does not stir once you slowly move to sit up and stand, nor when you reach for the quilt crumbled at the foot of the bed to pull over him. It’s not much, but hopefully it will keep him from waking in a few hours freezing to death. Then, as you tiptoe your way over to Hyunjin’s bed, avoiding Felix now that he’s sprawled half way off the bean bag, you cannot tell if you are still shivering from the cold or if the fact you are going to be sleepingwith Hyunjin in one, tiny single bed is finally clicking in your brain. Like Maddie said, this is something you want, right?

As you draw closer, Hyunjin shifts to make room and lifts the covers for you to quietly slip beneath. “Thank you,” you whisper, pulling the blanket up to your chin and trying to ignore the feeling of being so close to him. “Of course. You looked real cold over there,” he smiles tiredly. Then, his arm cautiously curls around you to rest by your head, fingers swiping stray hairs away from your face.

“I was,” you admit. Eyes level to his lips, you strain to look him in the eyes to resist the temptation now that he’s pulled you so close. “Changbin fell asleep and I felt bad waking him.”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply. He seems momentarily lost in thought, brows slightly furrowed as he chews on the inside of his lip.

“Do you like him?” He finally asks, voice shaky with hesitation.

“What?” You sputter, shocked at such a presumption. Yet again…

“No, no I don’t. I mean—as a friend, yes, but, you know,” you trail off, squeezing your eyes shut. You desperately wish you were not having this conversation right now. “He was touching you, though. And it looked like you liked it,” Hyunjin whispers, thumb swiping against your cheekbone.

“I mean, well yeah, I did. But I’m not close enough to like him like that. It’s just a physical attraction,” realizing you are discussing what went down with Changbin to Hyunjin, you suddenly pull back and lean up on an elbow to get a better look at him, heat now spreading up your limbs like fire. “Were you watching us, Hwang?”

“Yes,” he admits, “it’s kind of hard not to.” Your heart stops beating.

“I – what?” You manage once you have remembered how to breathe. “I didn’t know you were awake, we wouldn’t have… what do you mean, ‘it’s kind of hard not to?’”

“You know what I mean, YN,” Hyunjin mutters, arm slipping around your waist and pulling you to lie down with him again, this time, your chest pressed to his. “I like looking at you. You’re very pretty.”

You definitely must still be high, because you are seriously having a hard time wrapping your mind around Hyunjin calling you pretty, as well as being so close, and somewhere deep in your mind wonders if he knows. If he knows how your heart is on the line here. Knows that with him moving closer, you are taking a huge risk.

When Hyunjin kisses you, you forget that this could be the worst mistake you’ve made in a long time. Wrapped around his fingers, you pray this is his way of saying he feels the same.

“YN!” You wake to Seungmin gently shaking your shoulder. “YN, wake up. Your phone has been vibrating for twenty minutes now. It’s Maddie.”

The wave of panic washing over you dispels the grogginess you feel from suddenly being yanked from sleep, as well as the recognition of where you are and who you’re with. Frantic, you sit up and nod in thanks to him before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Oh, thank God you answered,” Maddie cries, voice choked, “I’m sorry, I know you’re still out, but I just threw up and I feel so terrible and when I get up I feel so nauseous. Can you come home?”

“Shit, Maddie, don’t apologize,” you whisper, rushing to grab your things as Seungmin unfolds The Ladder as quietly as possible, “I’m leaving now. Don’t move, you don’t want it to get worse. I’ll be there as fast as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” she whimpers before hanging up.

“Thank you, Minnie,” pressing a kiss to his cheek, you begin to climb down. “Is everything okay?” He asks, watching as you go with a worried frown. “Yes, it’s fine. Just a little emergency, don’t worry,” praying no one is out and about watching as you climb from the back of their building, you rush back to help Maddie as fast as you can.

You stay back in your dorm with Maddie for the rest of the weekend, fetching her water and ginger ale and food she can handle, helping her to the restroom, and binging all sorts of shows and movies with her. Seungmin, Jisung, and Minho visit Sunday evening, joining you for a few hours to watch Pokémon. You think it’s just because Minho knew it would be a good opportunity to snuggle with Maddie.

You can’t help but feel disappointed when Hyunjin isn’t with them. You refrained from telling Maddie what happened in 201, too caught up wanting to make sure she was alright, and by now you are starting to feel as if it wasn’t even real. Maybe you made the whole night up in your marijuana-infused brain. And snuggled up with Jisung, you can’t help but wish it was this annoying shit you were falling in love with.

On Monday morning, Hyunjin doesn’t show up for breakfast. On Tuesday, you find out he has been hanging out with a girl he met at his favorite boba joint and apparently won’t shut up about. First, you run back to your dorm to cry to Maddie, having to explain all of Friday night to her. When she leaves for her lab, you call Felix for an emergency smoke session. When Maddie texts that she is going to be out late working on a project, you call Changbin to tell him that you really do want him to.

Like you said, it’s just a physical attraction, right?

⇢ part 2

546 notes · View notes

xiyao-feels · 3 years

Text

Part Two: Claims about NMJ and NHS

Intro - Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

NMJ

1) NMJ wished to protect NHS from cultivating with the sabre as a youth.

I don't think he tells us this in quite so many words, but it seems implied by the flashback scenes: his giving NHS the paintbrush, the bit where he takes 修刀 and gives NHS 修心, and course him literally telling NHS that whatever NHS wishes to do, he'd support it.

As far as I can tell there's no evidence of this. Now, to be fair, we don't see them as children in MDZS, but there is not as far as I can tell any sign that NMJ has ever done anything but strongly desire that NHS work on the sabre. Indeed, even at Hejian during Sunshot, the reason he overhears MY and LXC's conversation is because he is bringing NHS' sabre to LXC so that NHS will not be able to escape practicing with it. He certainly does not renew any kind of commitment to allowing NHS to do what he wills before his death. In CQL, we see rather less, but as far as I can tell there doesn't seem to be anything that contradicts MDZS on this front.

2) In his heart, NMJ carried significant doubts about the righteousness of Nie cultivation practices, including both the sabre-curse-inducing sabre cultivation and the practice of balancing the sabre spirits via corpses in the wall

This is quite central to the movie. It's arguably implicit in his desire to protect NHS from cultivating with the sabre, but beyond that, he is clearly extremely uncomfortable at NHS' moral challenge of Nie practices and believes at least partially that NHS has a point; moreover, it's implicit in his confessions to NHS in the tomb:

The Nie family's ancestors created this family foundation with great hardships. Unexpectedly, it was cursed by the sword spirit. I practiced swordsmanship hard and thought I could find a way to solve it, but I just followed the same old disastrous road of the ancestors.

And of course, his moral arc in the movie is about embracing those doubts and rejecting Nie tradition.

There is as far as I can tell no evidence of this in MDZS or CQL; in fact we don't learn anything about the Nie burial traditions in scenes where NMJ is still alive, and he never shows any doubt about the wisdom of sabre cultivation.

3) NMJ used to be "intelligent and wise"; it's due to the effects of the sabre curse that he is "moody and brutal".

We're explicitly told this by NHS at around 32:50: "Da-ge, look at you now, you have changed. When you were young, you were always wise and intelligent. Ever since you practiced swordsmanship, you've become moody and brutal." It's also backed up by the childhood flashbacks. The sharp distinction between NMJ and sabre-curse-affected-NMJ, shown by the way sabre-curse-affected NMJ is visually marked out, also helps suggest this.

Now, in MDZS and CQL, this…is complicated. Again, in MDZS, we don't see him as a child—the earliest we see him is still well past the time he began practicing sabre cultivation. And in ch 26 NHS does indeed suggest that sabre cultivation causes increasing irritability; it certainly seems plausible, indeed almost necessary, that he had less of a temper before he started practicing, and for that matter we see his anger grow worse as time goes on.

Nevertheless, we never actually see any trace of a calm-tempered NMJ in the text. Even by the beginning of Sunshot, his reputation as an angry man is firmly established. Consider the Nie men's reaction to his anger at their shit-talking MY, in the cave:

The entire cave was in a muddle. Everyone knew ChiFeng-Zun’s personality—the more one tried to explain, the angrier he was. Seeing that they probably couldn’t escape punishment and would have to tell the truth, nobody dared to speak a word.

Even his friend LXC says to MY, “MingJue-xiong has quite a fiery personality. It must have been truly difficult for you to have earned his approval.”

And NHS, who very much loves his brother even as he is also to some extent frightened of him, is never shown pining for the halcyon days of yore. Narratively speaking, sabre-affected NMJ is the only NMJ we know. I think…this is something a Nie brothers spinoff could theoretically do something interesting with, but the way it's presented in their relationship is all wrong.

In CQL, the evidence is much the same or just not shown. NMJ generally seems less angry (though even so, we see him be angry at the Nie men for mocking MY (in subjective CQL-Empathy, but still), at WWX for saying maybe let's not kill XY immediately, at JGY for having killed the Nie cultivators, etc.), and if anything his relationship with NHS seems better than it is in the novel, although this too is well after he's begun to practice sabre cultivation.

4) NMJ respects NHS' interests

When picking NHS to lead the other team in the tombs, NMJ tells us that NHS knows most about astronomy in the Nie, and NMJ clearly considers this valuable.

If NHS did actually have significant knowledge of cultivation, NMJ would probably respect that. However, this is what NMJ has to say about the interests NHS canonically has (ch 49):

Nie HuaiSang was absolutely delighted. He greeted Jin GuangYao again and again as he grabbed the fans in haste. Seeing how his younger brother reacted, Nie MingJue was so outraged that he almost found it amusing. He turned to Jin GuangYao, “Don’t send him those useless things!”

In a hurry, Nie HuaiSang dropped a few fans on the ground. Jin GuangYao picked them up for him and put them into his arms, “HuaiSang’s hobbies are quite elegant. He’s dedicated to art and calligraphy, and has no propensity for mischief. How can you say that they’re useless?”

Nie HuaiSang nodded as fast as he could, “Yes, Brother is right!”

Nie MingJue, “But sect leaders have no need for such things.”

In CQL, I believe we just don't see enough to say, although given that again, NHS' isn't actually studying cultivation, it seems likely NMJ' attitudes are much the same.

NHS

1) NHS is profoundly morally motivated

NHS is immediately and hugely upset with the practice of using corpses in the walls, explicitly on moral grounds, even though it was the practice of their ancestors, and even once he finds out that they're not (usually) Nie men, but evildoers.

Having been told by NZH that the blades need the corpses to suppress their aggressiveness: "But isn't that just sacrificing people?" "Zonghui, the Nie family have always been righteous. If we give sacrifice to it with life, we will become evil."

And then, to NMJ: "Wait. Let me ask you. Why is here called the Sword Sacrifice Hall? What is to balance sword spirit? I didn't understand before coming what exactly Sword Sacrifice Hall represents. I know it now. This is not balance but sacrificing flesh and blood!"

NZH: Second Young Master, you misunderstood it. Those corpses belong to evil men. The Nie family's ancestors had uses their bodies to balance the sword spirit. We also follow the ancestral instructions."

NHS: (to NZH) Evil men? (to NMJ) Aren't they human beings? Are you qualified for deciding their fate?

NMJ: The sword spirit is extremely dangerous. Generations of the Nie family all balanced the spirit in this way.

NHS: Even if they were wrong, you also follow their way?

In MDZS…I went over the chapters where he shows up, and I'm not actually sure we ever see him express a moral sentiment? I could be missing something, but it doesn't seem to be any kind of fundamental part of his character.

This is his reaction to WWX's first suggestion of demonic cultivation, when they're studying at CR (ch 14):

After thinking for a few moments, an expression of envy and yearning appeared on Nie HuaiSang’s face, “To be honest, Wei-xiong’s words were quite interesting. Spiritual energy can only be obtained through cultivation and taking great pains to form a golden core. It would take I-don’t-know-how-many years to do, especially for someone like me, whose talent seems as if it was gnawed by a dog when I was in my mother’s womb. But, resentful energy are from the fierce ghosts. If they can easily be taken and used, it would be beyond wonderful.”

And—granted this is several years down the line and NHS is keeping up his cover, but when NHS is explaining the sabre tomb to LWJ and WWX in chapter 26, he doesn't seem to have any problem with the practice. In fact, he tells us that he participated in choosing corpses for NMJ's sabre:

Nie HuaiSang was already shocked speechless. Wei WuXian inquired, “Who chooses the corpses that the Nie Sect uses for the Saber Hall?”

Nie HuaiSang replied with a glazed expression, “Usually, the past sect leaders chose and stored them when they were still alive. My brother passed away at an earlier age. He didn’t have enough, so I also helped him choose some… I kept whichever corpses that were complete with all limbs. I don’t know about anything other than this…”

In CQL...mmm. I rewatched all the pre-Sunshot scenes with him in it, and I do think he comes across as, at least, less amoral. We don't have the gee wouldn't demonic cultivation be nice scene, and you could definitely interpret him as being worried about the granny at Dafan, or even the temporary-puppets; he says you have to admire Songxiao's integrity and elegance as they depart; and while we don't see him be part of the initial 'maybe we shouldn't just immediately execute XY squad,' he does go da-ge after NMJ seems irritated at WWX, and after NMJ throws MY out he goes in and is like but why!!!! That said, in both cases where he challenges (and I use the term rather loosely for the da-ge after NMJ is irritated with WWX), he immediately backs down faced with NMJ's opposition. I really don't see any sign of the character who is so morally motivated and so sure of his own correctness he challenges NMJ, /in front of all their men/, and keeps up the challenge despite NMJ's consistent opposition.

2) NHS isn't really interested in JGY's gifts

At no point is he shown delighting over or interested in anything JGY gave him (except of course the flute for treating his brother), and in fact when JGY says that after the journey he will give him gifts he replies "San-ge, I am not afraid of difficult journeys. I'm not craving for toys either." On the contrary, gifts are associated with /NMJ/, who gave him a paintbrush as a child.

In MDZS, we see him explicitly delighted in and interested by JGY's gifts. In ch 49, we see him going over a dozen gold-lined fans, which turn out to be gifts from JGY; when JGY mentions he's going to play a song for NMJ, he expresses interest and mentions "the limited edition" JGY gave him "last time," and then when NMJ shouts at him to go to his room he runs instead "to the living room for the presents that Jin GuangYao had brought him;" when JGY shows up at Qinghe after the stairs incident, NHS "beamed as he got ready to go to Jin GuangYao and see what presents he brought this time." Considering how little time they have together on the page, the gifts show up a great deal.

In CQL, we mostly don't see a lot of NHS and JGY's interactions after JGY's legitimation but before NMJ's death, so it's impossible to directly say. However, he is at least shown to delight in and greatly value beautiful things (see at least the fan flashback in ep 35).

3) NHS is motivated by a desire for his brother's respect and the respect of their men.

This is the argument JGY uses which finally settles NHS on going along on the journey, around 14:30: "Both of you are pillars of the Nie family. You should work together. You can also prove yourself." See also his pleasure with himself at solving the puzzle quickly in the tombs; it's not a purely self-satisfied pleasure, but rather, "It seems I'm not useless" (27:35ish). When NZH replies, "Second Young Master, you are definitely not useless. It's just because everyone has their own will," NHS gives a firm little nod. NMJ's respect for NHS' skills and interests is also made central to their relationship.

In MDZS, NHS really doesn't seem to be motivated by people respecting him. Consider, again, what he says about WWX's idea of demonic cultivation (ch 14):

A golden core was a core formed by cultivators after they had cultivated to a certain point. It can store and control spiritual energy. After the core was formed, the cultivator’s level of cultivation would increase at a rapid speed, and become better and better. Else, they would only be a low-end cultivator. If disciple from a prominent clan forms the core at a later age, it would be a disgrace to tell other people of it, yet Nie HuaiSang didn’t feel ashamed at all. Wei WuXian also laughed, “I know, right? No harm comes from using it.”

Even during Sunshot, he's slacking off, using the excuse of having forgotten his sabre. (ch 48)

And then in ch. 49, after NMJ burns his things:

Nie HuaiSang roared at Nie MingJue, “Saber, saber, saber! Who the fuck wants to practice the damn thing?! So what if I want to be a good-for-nothing?! Whoever that wants to can be the sect leader! I can’t learn it means I can’t learn it and I don’t like it means I don’t like it! What’s the use of forcing me?!”

I'm not necessarily saying he wouldn't enjoy it if NMJ respected him, and certainly it seems a fair read that he would like it if NMJ yelled at him less. But by and large, he just doesn't show any objection to being thought of as useless, even before his Headshaker cover—and there's a reason that cover worked, after all.

In CQL...well, again, he doesn't really show any sign of objecting to being thought useless, as far as I can tell.

4) NHS knows about the sabre curse

JGY explicitly says so at about 13:05: "You know his sickness. He didn't do it on purpose." Moreover, if NHS didn't know, the offer of flute-playing wouldn't really make sense.

In MDZS, NMJ explicitly hasn't told NHS at least as of JGY's visit after the stairs, and there's no indication he told him between then and when he qi-deviated. Indeed, it's JGY who thinks NHS should be told, while NMJ rejects this (ch 50):

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, these days you’ve been stricter and stricter towards HuaiSang. Is it the saber spirit…?”

After a pause, he continued, “Does HuaiSang still not know about the saber spirit?”

Nie MingJue, “Why would I tell him so soon?”

In CQL, we're not told either way; this being the case I tend towards defaulting to MDZS unless I have a specific reason to think otherwise.

5) NHS, though bad at fighting, is skilled in cultivation theory

Again, JGY says so, at around 13:19: "You are good at Daoist magic" (and NHS seems to accept it). Moreover this is continually backed up by the film, with NHS making good use of it in the tomb, and then of course in the last scene having put together the true effect of the corrupted passage.

There is no indication of this in MDZS. He's interested in art and beautiful things, but he struggles with the Lan lectures. When JGY defends NHS' interests, he mentions art and calligraphy, and says his hobbies are elegant; he makes no mention of any kind of cultivation theory. As WWX himself notes, thinking back (ch 21):

In the past, Wei WuXian and Nie HuaiSang studied together, so there were a few things he could comment about this person. Nie HuaiSang wasn’t an unkind person. It wasn’t that he was not clever, but that his heart was set somewhere else and used his smarts on other areas, such as painting on fans, searching for birds, skipping classes, and catching fish. Because his talent in terms of cultivation really was poor, he formed his core around eight or nine years later than the other disciples of the same generation as him. When he lived, Nie MingJue was often exasperated by the fact that his brother didn’t meet his expectations, so he disciplined him strictly. Despite this, he still didn’t improve much.

I'm not saying he couldn't have developed in this direction after NMJ's death, but there doesn't seem to be any indication he was skilled in that way beforehand. Again, there's a reason his cover as "totally useless person" works as a cover.

In CQL, again, we don't really see any evidence of his skill with cultivation. NHS is shown flipping through his book for the answer to the executioner question LQR asks WWX; he doesn't show any evidence of significant cultivation knowledge on the road trip section (although he is shown to have a good memory for things he's actually interested in, and you could argue he has good instincts!); his wish at the lantern festival is that he passes his studies at the Lan. I just don't see it.

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#fj negativity #long meta #anger burned in his heart #we can't change places #more than one tag could contain

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razorblade180 · 3 years

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Overall thoughts on V8? Assuming you didn't answer this already.

I meant to do a volume wrap up review but I got incredibly busy and it fell to the waste side. The thing about me judging RWBY I have to come at it from two angles or I won’t feel like I judged it appropriately. There’s the casual, first time seeing the episodes and seeing this through the lens as a casual watcher who probably only sees the episodes once or twice. But then there’s the other side to that coin. I review these episodes, write aus, theorize, check extended lore, listen to the music, etc; that means I have to go back and watch episodes several times for any given reason and that’s when you start noticing the holes or picking up on things you didn’t before.

As a casual watcher, I’d give this an 8/10. There’s plenty of moments where characters do things that got me excited and plot points I wanted explored. This volume actually gave a decent amount of things I wanted for quite some time and some things I didn’t know I needed. Certainly there are things I don’t like in this but I’m open and curious to see where RT takes their storie because it’s their story.

Okay, now as a someone who’s had to deep dive and take a step back multiple times for a variety of reasons. 6.5/10 maybe a 7/10 if I’m being generous. A lot of my problems with this volume are problems that aren’t new to RWBY and that’s just how surface layer portions of arcs are and how a variety of choices/bonds don’t exactly make sense with what we were previously shown, or they only make sense because the writers don’t want introduce other complexities even though they should be there realistically. I’ll give a couple examples of these and yes, I’m aware what I say doesn’t bother everyone but it bothers me.

Qrow was never angry at or brought up Robyn being the reason their airship crashed in the first place because she started the fight; which aids in Clover dying.

Emerald follows Cinder, not Salem. Even if Cinder is working under Salem, why would Emerald be so willingly to complete shift to the side that actively goes against Cinder? There’s been no grand revelation to make Emerald believe Cinder doesn’t give a damn about her. Leaving made sense because she was about to get tortured. Going full turncoat right now doesn’t. No change happened. Emerald always hated being near Salem but adored Cinder no matter the crimes and the show hasn’t done anything to switch that view point.

I’m happy Whitley and Weiss had a touching sibling moment that implies they’re okay and making/made up, but there was never a conversation about the actual problem and thoughts that had them at odds in the first place. Weiss saving his and Willow’s life shouldn’t be the thing that smooths things over. It would’ve been terrible if Weiss do something to save their life. Whitley helping Penny is okay I guess because he really had no reason to contribute but did anyways. Even so, a person doing a morally correct thing doesn’t automatically warrant the conflict between him and Weiss’s resolved.

We got Cinder’s backstory; it didn’t tell us anything about how she eventually came into contact with Salem. Honestly her back story felt more in line of her main goal through the series was an absolute freedom by the means of breaking down the systems that trapped and didn’t give a damn, rather than her quest for power. Yes you can argue gaining power means it’s easier to maintain her freedom to do whatever she wants but I personally think that’s a little off the mark when you gave her a story that involves her trapped by rules and time rather than being too physically weak to gain freedom.

This show has built up that the Schnee family has suffered various types of abuse because of Jacques and uses Weiss as a medium to build towards breaking free from that. Not just overcoming but confronting the abuse by cementing it’s place below you. We don’t really get that. There will never be a moment where the siblings and mother truly get to break out of Jacques grasps emotionally and then put him in his place because he’s dead! Yeah they never have to worry about him again but even last volume they showed Winter still having turmoil and being able to get strung along by him. We don’t even really know how Whitley perceived his father. It feels so lackluster. Then they care to mention how it’s Weiss’s idea to save him like it’s an empowering moment when in actuality, it would be against her character, values of a huntress, and morality to let a person die in cell when you’re the reason they’re in a cell! Letting him die in there would just terrible. I don’t even know why he wasn’t let out in that scene! He’s a coward! He’d follow their orders to save his skin. All he has to do is shut up and walk through a portal.

Ironwood and Oscar both knew they could remove that staff to use it and Atlas wouldn’t drop immediately. Why did nobody have any kind of compromise with one another since there’s nothing stopping them from using the staff for something and then putting it back? They had this morally gray thing going on which I liked but then they decided to make Ironwood go full evil. I’ve never had to say this before but the song he got in V7 and the character they made him be in V8 just don’t connect. I got upset listening to that song recently because I liked that Ironwood.

Clover’s importance. RT tried making a character who had no more than 9 minutes in the series and one meaningful line of dialogue into the cornerstone of a side plot. Clover is such a nothing character. Vine did more than Clover. They try to make him have such a profound impact to the people around him but we never see him bond with his team; Harriet specifically. We get one scene of Clover telling Qrow the kids are fortunate to have Qrow even if he doesn’t think so. First, I doubt Clover knows Qrow decided to get drunk in a ghost town and the kids nearly died and cellar while he did it so that compliment doesn’t hold much weight for me. Second, We see nothing meaningful between the two. V7 has a time skip and just expects viewers to be on board with Clover being this influential change on Qrow without showing anything outside of a witty remark and Clover flexing his semblance. I would’ve bought it more of Qrow almost relapsed and Clover stopped him then had a real meaningful conversation.

Ruby goes against Ironwood only to then want to do a plan that’s aligned to longer term thinking than even his, talks about how everyone should be working together, but then adds a part in her video to actively antagonize and vilify Ironwood. Afterwards, she wonders where everything went wrong and doesn’t think of a plan or do anything to immediately help either kingdom until the final hour between the ultimatum being made, to everything getting destroyed. The inciting incident was disagreeing Mantle should be left in favor of Atlas but the main character didn’t do anything to help Mantle 90% of the season and hindered Atlas’s safety up until the final plan.

Yang is used to be the devil’s advocate in a bunch of situations, but she’s wrong most of the time or her lines just don’t make any sense. They weren’t doing just fine before Atlas. They almost died every step of the way. The team didn’t beat a Leviathan; silver eyes and a robot take credit for that. Why would Blake think less of Yang for wanting to go save people immediately? Blake was never mad at anyone to begin with. Yang consistently calls out people for following orders as if it’s objectively wrong, but is never called out on the fact she hasn’t followed anybody’s orders but her own and added discourse to every situation. I get RT is making her ask questions because that’s what Raven told her to do, but all she’s really doing is picking fights and disobeying every order. Yang states to Ruby they accomplished more than they expected. That’s false, getting Oscar back is correcting a mistake caused by her own plan that she didn’t even complete.

It took 6 volumes before Yang had anything to do with the Summer Rose subplot again and 7 volumes before her and Ruby had a sister to sister conversations; 5 if you wanna count Yang telling Ruby to leave at the end of volume three. The reason I bring this up is because in V8 , they treat their argument as if it’s a big deal but then have every character say it wasn’t that big a deal; but then have two circle back to that conversation later after having neither character discuss to anybody that the argument actually did weigh on them. Yang doesn’t think about Ruby until she sees her again and the closest we get with Ruby is Blake reassuring her that people need her and how Blake admires her. I like that scene but it’s not the same as Ruby actually airing out the specific point that Yang said something that Ruby found hurtful. Vol8 in general people trying to comfort others but nobody ever actually addresses what made them uncomfortable to start with. Except Ren.

This one is a nitpicking but I’ll say it anyways. Penny getting hacked only served as a purpose to go to the vault, a thing Ironwood already wanted them to do. Nobody got her because she was hacked. You can’t even say her getting hacked is the leading factor to her actually dying because Penny became a vulnerable human afterwards that can’t be rebuilt. Pietro was gone, and already stated last volume he doesn’t have the aura to build Penny again. If she died as a robot then it’s still permanent death. No core, no Pietro, and no aura; hacking her was just to create a Hound reveal situation and make them go to the vault on a different set of terms. I’m not exactly upset with this, but I don’t understand why the extra steps. The Hound was hunting her anyways. I would’ve brought some kind of value if she hurt a friend and it caused them to potentially hinder the plan later on or remove them entirely. Penny could’ve rekt Yang and it only adds value to Yang getting one shot later. I don’t know. I’m rambling.

I think I’ve wasted enough people’s time. Honestly, I do like this volume. I’ve enjoyed a bunch of it. But there’s things that legitimately make me think it’s not as good others and makes V7 even worse.

#rwby #rwby volume 8 #ask me stuff

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maevelin · 3 years

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what is your opinion on how the IC treated nesta in general, but more specifically acofas?

Oh boy...you just had to go there lol

Negative rant ahead. So you’ve been warned.

Truth is I’ve tried so hard to get what happened in acofas out of my mind and view certain things I used to like even out of context so to be able to still enjoy them but it didn’t work. If anything getting some emotional distance from this universe dampened my excitement for any future project from this franchise and writer. Granted I never considered SJM to be a good writer but at least she was able to work through some interesting characters and dynamics. Acofas negated that too.

And honestly I am so done with the whole thing and it even left me with a bitter aftertaste when it comes to Nessian in particular because the foundations set in that book (if one can call it that) are really something I detest. The insight we got into Cassian’s mind made me so angry and I noped out completely.

As for how the IC in general treated Nesta?

I had some time to think about that and I think the problem is that the previous books and ACOFAS more so have set up an environment where Feyre and the Inner Circle are the moral axis of the universe we are in. If they are objectively right or wrong does not matter because they are right no matter what. It is very unsettling for me to have to get into a book that exists on that foundation.

At the beginning the characters in question, Feyre, Rhysand and so on were treading more realistic lines between right and wrong. Some of those lines were blurred. They were morally grey characters too given what the situation demanded from them and that was the allure of their dynamic as characters and as relationships but as we got more books with them they became more and more bland and their perspective was limited to the trope of the perfect shiny hero and they became dogmatic when it came to that. They knew what was the best for everyone. They could do no wrong even when they did. There were no repercussions to their mistakes. They are not to be called out for their behavior because their behavior is always correct (even when it is not and not just concerning Nesta but on many fronts).

We are at a point where their moral code is by default what creates what is right and wrong and the narrative acknowledges that directly and indirectly. So the readers are meant to accept that what Feyre does is morally right and doesn’t get to criticize her actions and the actions of the Inner Circle that many times can be morally ambiguous -at best- but are not acknowledged as such.

I would appreciate it much more if the author allowed the characters (all characters, Nesta included because I am not here to pretend that Nesta is not a hot mess of an abusive asshole too) to be subjected more to objective criticism without the narrative pandering to their moral high ground.

Thing is that situations where you have to face someone’s trauma can be difficult, messy, ugly even. There is no perfect recipe. It doesn’t mean that your way or helping is always right just because you love your family or your loved one. It doesn’t mean that because you have had your own trauma you know how to deal with someone else’s. You can do more damage many times or you can’t reach someone that is struggling and when someone is in pain many times can’t open up or accept their problem or any help regarding their issues and this can create a very dysfunctional situation from all sides concerned. Toxic even.

But here from the start the reader is to accept a fundamental truth. Feyre and the Inner Circle are right and they know what they are doing. Their motives, their actions, their responses are pristine and they are on a pedestal so where does that leave Nesta or even a reader that doesn’t accept that reality because their critical thinking gets in the way?

And where does a character that is not as ‘perfect’ stand? Nowhere. It distorts the picture. Because until that character gets in line with that perfection they can’t be part of it. It gets ostracized even if is in simple things as not being drawn inside a painting.

And what I find even more problematic (especially in the end of ACOFAS) is that this feels very much like a parallel of how Tamlin treated Feyre but most readers ignore that because the former books established that Feyre and the IC are the established moral stance one should admire and anyone opposing that is on the wrong. In reality the moment the writer stopped viewing certain characters under an amoral light and forced them to be the ‘good heroes’ instead of the amoral characters that should have been everything became distorted. The parallels between those characters that are deemed to be doing things wrong and those that are supposedly doing things right are blatantly obvious and the only reason as to why the good guys have the holier than thou attitude and are on the right its because the writer “says so” and that’s not something I can abide with if I use critical thinking.

Yes these books are not meant to be taken seriously and are light entertainment at best but I feel there are limits to that especially since given the direction the author choose to take the characters towards does not personally entertain me anymore.

I am not in favor of taking an unapologetic character and making them less than what they are only to fit them into a romance and way to work into a faux morality code.

Feyre wants to protect Nesta. She is for an intervention. Tamlin acted the same. In the same way Feyre gets to decide how Elain should give Lucien a chance or how Lucien’s attachment with Jurian and Vassa is silly or how Nesta should heal Tamlin also decided how Feyre should work through her trauma, how she should not use her powers, how she should exist in his court because...he knew better, because he loved her, because he wanted to protect her. And he did love her and he did want to protect her and he had his reasons and all that didn’t make him any less abusive. Tamlin was basically ordering or manipulating Feyre into acting in the way he believed was best for her and their life together. Does that sound familiar or what? Including how Tamlin was providing everything financially for Feyre and her sisters too and that was also taken as a given.

And I am not here to say that Feyre doesn’t love her sisters or doesn’t want the best for them. I am here to point out the hypocrisy when it comes to how one should defend another person’s free will and choice. The only reason Feyre was able to escape that suffocating environment was because Rhysand gave her a way out. No one is there to do that for Nesta. If anyone did that for her would she stay? Of course not. Would she follow Cassian to the camp if she had other alternatives? Nope. Surely Nesta is at the lowest of lows and her behavior triggered such reactions because she surely did something bad for even Amren to be set against her that way in the end of ACOFAS but that doesn’t change how the power imbalance is shocking. How Elain had no say to what happens to Nesta because Feyre is in charge. But once more where Tamlin was wrong Feyre is right. Where Tamlin was abusive Feyre is not. Feyre’s trauma was not as destructive as Nesta’s so of course this excuses everything. Not to mention that Tamlin was going through his own trauma too. Not to mention that every despicable thing Tamlin did as a High Lord was no less despicable than what Rhysand did but we saw how the narrative in the end treated Tamlin even after the way he repented in ACOWAR.

But Tamlin is the bad guy who treated Feyre badly so even if objectively he can be as terrible as the characters we are meant to support are and can be we are still not meant to judge him the same as we are meant to judge the ‘heroes’ because different standards are set. The same treatment goes for Nesta, Lucien and so on. And I am not here to defend Tamlin or every wrong thing Nesta or any other character did. But the scales here are not balanced at all so I feel that for certain characters their mistakes weigh more than those of others. It also depends if someone’s trauma is more ‘comfortably accepted’ than others. It is like you can be depressed and damaged and traumatized but only as long as it fits a certain aesthetic kind of thing and that is triggering me in ways I am not comfortable with.

And you can see the insidious writing too. Nesta’s PTSD is used against her.

Characters like Feyre are getting praised for overcoming their trauma and for their heroism and get all those monikers of glory but Nesta for example and even Elain that beheaded the King and ended the war are left into obscurity. Nesta was ready to sacrifice herself to give Feyre a fighting chance and was there to shield Cassian and die along his side but you know okay sure. Feyre is the defender of the rainbow and I don’t know what else title she has these days but when other characters do similar fits of heroism they are sidelined and those acts are quickly forgotten as if they never happened. That is a narrative issue because it chooses to highlight certain moments and ignore others.

People know Nesta as ‘Cassian’s’ for crying out loud and escape her house in fear because of him. Cassian that somehow glorifies the mate bond and the age gap even to legitimate worries Rhysand poses because if he didn’t then all of the sudden he would have to acknowledge how problematic is his attitude towards Nesta and their general dynamic. But hey she looks hot despite her weight loss and what Rhysand and Feyre have, suicide pacts and whatnot, is so pure so why bother with being decent towards a girl that as he sees is traumatized, has been violated and is stuck in a world and species she does not want. He admitted that he had been through the same emotional trauma in his past and it took him time to heal but hey Nesta is a bitch for not conforming to the way he and the IC believe is best for her to act, behave and heal.

Is Nesta right all the time? Hell no. She is an abusive asshole. She spends money she has not worked for and earned. She is all messed up and does not know which way is up and lashes out towards every direction.

But in the same way Feyre did the same with Tamlin’s fortune and Rhysand’s but at least she was grateful and in a relationship with them so I guess it was okay?

And keep in mind that what Nesta is doing is deplorable (taking Rhysand’s money, having a past of not treating Feyre right, not wanting to be with Cassian etc) but when Elain is basically doing the same but Elain is ...Elain. So it is okay. She is not as troublesome I guess and can hide silently in the sidelines so the same mistakes have different gravity and consequences. Again that’s how the narrative is set. It favors certain characters while condemns others because by default it accepts in its core how Feyre and the Inner Circle is the moral axis so the other characters are satellites around that orbit and if they diverge from that then they get crashed until they are taught to gravitate correctly.

I could keep going but I feel like this game is rigged from the start when it comes to Nesta and I am finding it pointless really. The fact that the narrative pushes her trauma in a certain direction so not only to develop Nesta as a character but also pander to certain characters and a certain mentality regarding certain characters. I don’t feel comfortable reading something like that.

If the concern of the author was to push Nesta into an environment where the primary concern would be Cassian, their romance and the acknowledgment of the Inner Circle I am sure there are many more ways to work with that than taking a character’s PTSD and manipulating in a way as to make it less important for their individual narrative and more or less a stepping stool for getting the character to a place that wouldn’t otherwise go and especially more so if they were in their right frame of mind.

And I am not going to even get to other issues like how I am sure how tone deaf the author is still going to be when it comes to PoC cultures (Illyrians) vs White Savior Trope (Nesta entering that culture as a Queen without a crown that will go through the blood rite and into a warring misogynistic tribe where she will give the solution in the end but you know...’yay feminism’...and then adding salt into injury you will have Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian that have been in charge for half a millennia and could have solved certain issues if they truly wanted given their position and power but now that someone else will do it for them they will still get the credit...but you know...dreamers change the world and all that...but only when it is convenient I guess...).

#nesta archeron #nesta #cassian for ts #nessian for ts #anti acofas #fel reads acofas #I am so....#no no nope #I am getting more into anti shipping territory here #and I used to ship Nessian like crazy #Anonymous #anti rhysand #anti feyre

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