My deepest apologies if this does offend anyone at all. It is not a call out, insult to other ships, or finger pointing to any single person. Just patterns I’ve noticed and how much it sucks.
So, I’ve been seeing a lot of people saying that Sorey and Alisha are going to be the canon because of events in episode 2 and such, and everytime I see this, I can’t help but think… “This is a perfect example of the heteronormative expectations of (canon) couples.”
Since I’m trying to prove a point here, I’m really only going to address current anime things. (Though I mention the game in the very last paragraph.)
Like, what happened in episode 2/3? Alisha was lost, clearly very upset, and talking about things that Sorey both knew about (and some of which he knew were true because he knew about the Seraphim.) Oh, and he let her use his bed. Like… like a gentleman would. Or any half-decent person. Elysia doesn’t strike me as somewhere that has guest rooms, but that’s neither here nor there.
So what did he do? He did what Sorey does. Try to make her feel better. A thing we see him do with a lot of people. He is pretty much a son of sunshine. He likes to see those around him happy.
Sorey tries to cheer up an upset, lost, and as we know (and he seems to understand) very broken girl. (Just look at the prologue/episode 1. She saw some shit.)
I guess that means they’re totally in love now???
Now let’s look at Sorey and Mikleo. What’s happened with them?
Water Armatus (and only Water Armatus) in the opening. Not the first one he gets with the prime lord Lailah. Not a peek at the other two he gets. Water. Secret handshakes, spending time at night together, knowing looks, smiles, Mikleo standing up for Sorey when he brought a human to Elysia, Mikleo pouting when Sorey did run off with Alisha, that kick ass fight scene where they were both protective, strong, and totally in sync like holy shit. Looking out over the world together. Also the look on Sorey’s face when Mikleo said he was going too like holy crap he was so happy. Not to mention the nice lil’blush we get when Mikleo pulls a Tsun and tries (andfails) to act cool after how excited Sorey got.
But nah man. They’re just “brothers.”
Like, hell, I don’t care if it’s not your cup of tea and you happen to like SoreyAlisha or SoreyRose or SoreyWhoever. That’s fine. You’re allowed to pick your own flavours. I fully support people liking the ships they like.
But jesus christ do not deny and neglect the healthy and wonderful relatioship that is Sorey and Mikleo and turn around it say it is not at all ‘canon’ when they follow every single trope and repetitive pattern, symbols, and scenes we got with pretty much EVERY SINGLE OTHER implied (heterosexual) canon couple in the series.
Sorry for the wait, loves! Earlier parts are on my masterlist 🌸🌸
Luke tried to pay attention, he really did.
“Aaaaand I’ve won again” Calum smirks, placing emphasis on his final word.
“What?” Luke pulls his gaze away from the screen.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Calum frowns at his best friend, “you’ve lost 4 games of Fifa in a row.”
“Nothing” Luke mutters, standing up, “do you want a drink?” He walks to the kitchen, without waiting for an answer. His mind is on you. He doesn’t know why, he just knows he can’t stop thinking about your mouth on his, how soft your skin is, the smell of your perfume, the quiet moan you’d made. He wanted it again. He wanted everything, and he knew he couldn’t have it. Sleeping with you would only complicate an already murky situation. The fact that he couldn’t think of your mouth without his jeans beginning to tighten wasn’t helping.
“Here you go” Luke hands his friend a bottle of Heineken, before pulling his phone out of his pocket, checking it for the 15th time that afternoon.
“You not heard from your girlfriend?” Cal smirks.
“Not my girlfriend” Luke mumbles, more out of habit than anything. He could text you, you could go out tonight, get ice cream and walk around the town, he knew you liked seeing the stars. And he could kiss you in the main square, where there’d be enough people milling around that he could use it as an excuse for his actions. He could kiss you again and, quite frankly, that’s all he wanted.
“I’m guessing you’re not coming to Ash’s tonight?” Calum watches his best friend type furiously.
“No” Luke doesn’t respond to Calum’s words until you reply to his, “I’m meeting Y/N.”
“Who the fuck orders vanilla ice cream?” You frown at his flavour choice.
“Who the fuck doesn’t like vanilla ice cream?” He argues, waving his ice cream filled spoon in your face.
“Don’t you dare!” You lean back as he gets close to your nose.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess” he laughs, before touching the spoon to your nose, leaving a white blob of vanilla ice cream.
“You’re such a dick” you try not to laugh, failing miserably.
“Wait” he pulls your hand away as you go to wipe it off. Leaning forward he licks the tip of your nose, amusement in his eyes.
“You’re so disgusting” you wipe his saliva from your face, “and vanilla is shit, it’s boring.”
“I’ll remember you said that” he drops you a wink.
“Your mind is pure filth” you stammer, trying to rid your head of thoughts of him in bed.
“As is yours, so it seems” his eyes darken as they look at you.
“Why did you ask me out tonight?” You blurt out.
“I thought we were pretending to be a couple?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I thought that was just public appearances kinda things” you shrug, hating the disappointment you felt in your chest.
“‘Public appearances’! You make us sound like the monarchy.” He laughs, draping his arm around your shoulders.
“I feel like bloody royalty with the way people are staring at us” you mutter, leaning into his chest.
“Let them look” Luke leans down to murmur, pressing a kiss below your ear.
“Your plan’s working, Hemmings. Everyone thinks we’re a couple” you turn, not realising just how close his face was to yours. His mouth is inches from your own, his eyes glance down at your lips.
“They do, don’t they?” He breathes out, his mind was screaming at him that this wasn’t real, the kiss he was about to give didn’t mean anything to you, and it shouldn’t do to him. He knew he should end this, he didn’t know why, but it felt wrong. Something about this whole situation felt wrong and he couldn’t figure out what. He didn’t know anything other than he wanted to kiss you, so he did. You kissed him back instantly, almost as if you’d been hoping this would happen, the thought made him smile.
“What?” You mumble against his mouth.
“You taste like strawberry ice cream” he runs his fingers through your hair.
“You’re so weird”
“You’re one to talk” he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, “now shush and kiss me.” Seeing as there nothing else you’d rather be doing, you comply. You don’t know how long the two of you are there for, neither of you seem to care tat you’re stood in the middle of the town. Your entire focus is on one another.
“Fucking hell, get a room” that is, until you’re interrupted by the ever loud voice of Michael Clifford.
“W-why are you here?” Luke turns his gaze to his three, smirking best friends. His hands are still in your hair, your body still pressed against his, neither one of you wanting to move away just yet.
“What? In the place we live?” Ash raises an eyebrow.
“I thought you were all staying in tonight” Luke frowns.
“We fancied a walk” Michael has a glint in his eye that you don’t trust, “such a surprise seeing you two here.”
“You’re a dick, Clifford” Luke glares at him.
“I know” Mike laughs.
“You’re very quiet, Y/N?” Calum turns everyone’s attention to you.
“Oh!” You begin, not knowing what to say, you start by stepping away from Luke’s body “I…um…does anyone want a drink? Because I could absolutely, definitely do with one.”
“Absolutely, definitely?” Luke smirks, lacing his fingers through yours. You try to ignore his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand.
“Absolutely, definitely” you nod once.
“Come on, lovers” Ashton laughs, leading the way to the pub. People weren’t as surprised to see your hand entwined with Luke’s, but the interest in your relationship was still very much apparent. Calum and Luke go to the bar, leaving you alone with the other two, their too happy faces making you narrow your eyes.
“You looked like you were having fun” Mike starts.
“Pretend fun, of course” Ashton adds.
“We’re very good actors” you insist.
“Course you are” Ashton murmurs, shutting up as Lu and Cal arrive back at your table. You like being with them, even Luke. They make you laugh, you never laugh so much as when you’re with these four boys. You know it’s all pretend, you know that the entire town was watching every aspect of your relationship unfold, you know that Luke’s words and actions weren’t as real as you wished them to be. But here you were, in a pub, with him, and he was holding your hand under the table. Under the table. Where no one could see. You didn’t even know if he’d done it consciously, but he’d still done it. His fingers were entwined with yours and no body could see. And that made you smile more than anything.
“Do we have an ID on the victim?” “Yeah, it was in her bag along with the driver’s license, we’ve got her phone and credit card as well. Evie Martin, eighteen years old…” “She wasn’t killed here and judging by the blade-work it’s Boyd’s handiwork. So he’s sending us another message, huh?” “A message?” “Boyd doesn’t kill out of hate, he’s an artist… or at least he sees himself as one. His first five victim were in their thirties, pretty, successful women, he’s got a pattern or more likely a taste, but then he kills Abigail, troubled teenager who just turned sixteen and now this girl, another poor fucking kid.” “Show some respect! She was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s friend. Oh, I forgot, you can’t feel anything, right? Because you are just like them. This is why you’re here, doing this job, you’re playing a game, just like Boyd does.” “We all play games… me, you, anyone…” “Oh, please, save that pretty talk for your Wall Street friends! If you have them, of course which I actually doubt.” “Why are you here?” “It’s not your fucking business.” “We should call Kelly. I need all the information on this girl, Boyd’s giving us another clue. Oh and we should probably tell her parents.” “Trust me, you won’t be the one doing it.” “As you please, I was just trying to save you some trouble. Care for a coffee?” “I’ll have my coffee at the station.” “If you can call that crap coffee.” “Crappy coffee is better than a crappy company.”
hmm... how about CS + dog/cat + kids + snow because I am also getting a ridiculous amount of snow and it is on my mind atm
A/N: I’m not sure this is exactly what you had in mind, but this is where my mind went…
Killian has her pressed against the mast of the Jolly, his lips hard and insistent and hips rutting into hers deliciously. She should care about the fact that they are standing here out in the open where anyone can see them necking like teenagers, but it’s been far too long since they were truly alone, and he feels so good – especially the way he is drawing patterns on her skin under the hem of her shirt. She’s trying to remember how to perform a cloaking spell while Killian does his best to brand her neck when her phone buzzes.
“Ignore it,” he moans against her skin, doing his best to drive his point home with another roll of his hips, “whoever it is can wait.”
She wants to, God does she want to…but she can’t. There’s something niggling at her that tells her that this call is important. She reluctantly breaks away from Killian, both of them sighing in defeat as she attempts to wrangle the phone from her back pocket. She briefly realizes that Killian has somehow managed to pop the button on her jeans without her knowing. Maybe her instinct is wrong, and he can get back to finishing the job.
Henry’s name and picture flashing on the screen tells her that her instincts were right, and that they won’t be resuming their activities anytime soon. Killian is still shooting daggers at the device in her hand, but his expression softens when she mouths her son’s name in explanation.
“Hey, kid, what’s up?” Emma does her best to get her breathing and voice back under control. Her heart is still pounding in her chest, and she knows it isn’t solely from Killian’s ministrations alone. Henry wouldn’t be calling unless something was going on, going wrong. She just doesn’t want to convey that sense of panic to her only son.
“Mom, I’m so sorry,” Henry begins, his voice rushed and reflecting the panic that she definitely feels, “we were watching a movie and – oh shit – nobody’sdyingbuthelp!”
Her heart skips a beat, and the fear Emma is feeling must be written across her face because Killian is taking her hand and pulling her into him. His blue eyes look so very worried and concerned as he tightens his grip on her waist as she poofs them back to their front lawn. The house looks quiet in the night, and judging by the way Henry was able to get a call out, villains aren’t attacking. That thought still doesn’t keep her from bounding up the stairs of the porch, Killian on her heels. Judging by the way he is holding his left arm, he’s ready for a fight just in case. They throw open the front door, steeling themselves for whatever they are about to find inside and –
“Momma! Papa! Look! Snow!”
Whatever Emma expected when she burst though the door, it wasn’t this. Their living room has somehow been turned into a veritable winter wonderland, the hardwood, sofa, and all of the furniture covered in a fine layer of snow. Killian makes a noise that sounds like a half-laugh/half-sob, eyes darting between his snow-covered bookcase of centuries-old tomes to the tiny figure standing in the middle of the room looking immensely proud of herself and her exasperated older brother.
“You made it snow…” Emma is the first to speak, her voice a strangled mix of shock and awe, because it really is an impressive show of magic – even if it means that they will almost assuredly have to replace all the furniture in the room. When they realized their daughter would be magical – product of True Love and all that – indoor snowscapes is not what they had in mind.
“Yeah, Momma, isn’t it awesome?!” Their daughter proceeds to demonstrate her glee by running around the now-white room, kicking her feet and spreading the snow everywhere. “I’m just like Elsa!”
Eliza doesn’t know Elsa, at least not the real Elsa; however, she’s becoming intimately familiar with the Disney-version of the character recently, and it seems that she was sharing this discovery with her older brother when she decided to do a magical demonstration of her own. Emma and Killian had honestly been trying to shield her from Disney movies, at least until she was old enough to differentiate between the film versions and real people, but that plan had been shot to hell after one particular sleepover. The morning Emma had picked her up, the girl had been belting “Let it Go” from the top of her lungs, and hadn’t stopped since. Now, it appears her emulation of Arendelle’s queen is complete.
“Papa, do you wanna build a snowman?” Their daughter bounds up to Killian, practically leaping into his arms. He lifts her up, and she wraps her tiny arms around his neck. “Henry says you wouldn’t wanna, but I think he’s just bein’ mean.”
“Excellent show my little duckling, but I’m afraid your brother is partially correct, if only because snow is not something we play with indoors.” Killian tries to explain gently, eyeing his little girl carefully to avoid any breakdown or misconstrued discouragement of her powers. “Now, if the snow were outside, I would gladly build a snowman with you.”
“See!” Eliza exclaims victoriously. She sticks her tongue out at her brother, seemingly offended that Henry would ever doubt Killian’s willingness to play with her. Which, in all fairness, is true. Eliza does have her father wrapped around her tiny finger.
“I skipped going to the beach for spring break for this…” Henry sighs, more to himself than to anyone else in the room. “Anyway, sorry to break up date night, but yeah…indoor snowmageddon.”
He waves his hands around uselessly. Emma only feels partially sorry for kid, if only because she knows he didn’t actually turn down a college spring break in some coastal, Florida town. It’s not her son’s style. Now maybe if it were a vacation to a different realm like Arendelle – that is something more his speed. The whole situation has Emma thinking that maybe a family vacation to Arendelle might actually need to be in order. If only so Eliza could hear about the best time and place for magical exhibitions from the Ice Queen, herself. Besides, it wouldn’t be so bad to see Elsa again…
Yes, a family vacation to Arendelle is definitely in order, assuming they could get a portal there. At least, it will be once Emma manages to magic the snow out of her house.
(And maybe after she gets some actual alone time with her pirate, as well.)