#I talk in such a weird and incoherent way that like my friend understands me but I know other people would not

[saffaggot]

I should post more about my Jekyll and Hyde AU except I think so much about that and also my other 5 aus inspired by that one that I really don't know what's really important about it or stuff I just think about way too much.

[sugarpea12345]

Remember My Name (Short story inspired by Saintobio)

Hello! This is a little thing I wrote inspired by @saintobio's work. This is directly inspired by they're sincerely yours and sincerely not .

To read and understand this, you must be caught up with sincerely not 's latest chapter (Chapter 8). I would consider this an AU, as I don't know what will happen in the next story. @saintobio 's is heart wrenching, so I had to write my own mini happy ending. Once they update, this whole thing probably won't make much sense lol.

I have received permission from @saintobio to post this

Again, this is directly inspired by @saintobio's work: Sincerely Yours and Sincerely Not.

Word count: 11.8 k

trigger warning: mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of cheating, curse words used, angst

_____________________________________________________________

It had been a year since the coparenting arrangement. 

Via emails and business calls, you would arrange weekly pick up times. It was strictly professional. The way you wanted it. Right?

Wrong

You knew that you were being selfish. Maybe you always were. Everyone was right. Sera, Eula, Getou, Satoru’s mom, and Satoru. You were a black hole. You pulled people into your problems and destroyed them. You spent so much of your life fighting to be half the woman your mom was. And you could never be. You knew this now

“Mama!”

Bending down, you opened your arms. Hugging him tightly, you thanked the chauffeur for picking him up from school.

“Hi baby! How’s my little star?”

“Good! School finished early?” It was a statement, but you knew he was asking. Why did you take him out of school early? You really didn’t know. This whole day had felt strange. The air felt heavier. Your fingers felt numb. Something was going to happen and you didn’t want to be alone for it.

“What? My star prefers to be with teachers than with me? You’re making mommy sad!” You playfully nuzzled your head against his cheek and dramatically pouted. 

“I’ll never let you go to school again! Ha HA HA” You laughed evilly as you stood up and spun him

“Nooo!” He screamed between laughing.

After a good second of smiles and laughter, you finally set him down.

“Baby, I took you out of school because I wanted to spend time with you. Mommy is being selfish, so I won’t do this again. School is very important, ok?”

“Hmm��� but mommy isn’t selfish. She’s a good mommy!”

You almost burst out in tears. He was too young to see how awful you were. His innocence and love for you blinded him. He would someday see you for the monster you are.

Allowing silence to fill the room, you stared into his eyes. God, those eyes. Your whole world could be found in them. Ruffling his hair, you grabbed the nearby scarf and wrapped it around him. Like any kid he grumbled at the added layers.

“Let’s go get ice cream and have fun today. Ok, baby?”

“Ice Cream! I love ice cream! My friend always, they always like laugh at me but not like mean laughing. But they say it’s so weird to eat ice cream when its winter. They think it’s funny. I think it’s funny too! Is snow different from ice cream? Because there’s like all this ice cream on the floor because it’s all snow. I just grab some sometimes and it doesn’t taste the same!”

As he got older, he has gotten a lot more talkative. He spoke incoherently and in run on sentences, but you understood him, nonetheless. You listened attentively when he would spend 30 minutes telling you about a funny thing his friend said. You listened when he would explain his entire school day the entire dinner. You listened the whole time.

“Yes baby, ice cream is yummy! I’m glad you and your friends laugh a lot. And no baby, snow is not the same as ice cream. Snow is made from the water on the earther getting colder, becoming clouds, and falling down. Remember I was teaching you about the water cycle? Ice cream is made from milk!”

At the mention of the water cycle, Sachiro excitedly launched into another spiel. He talked about the cycle, reexplaining it to you. He talked about how his teacher says he’s smart and how he got a toy. He talked about how his friends always ask him for help. He talked all the way to the ice cream parlor. As soon as you two ordered your ice cream, you settled down. Listening to him talk about his dreams. You always set your phone on Do Not Disturb whenever you are with him. He loved attention. If for one second you were to look away, he would immediately deflate. He was a carbon copy of his father. Sometimes you contemplated getting rid of your phone for this reason.

You spent the rest of the day chasing him through the park: pretending to be a dragon he fought, teaching him how to do cartwheels, looking for bugs. You took as many pictures as you could. Filming his smile, his voice, his eyes. 

The day came to an end, and you carried him on your back to the apartment you were staying in. 

After showering him and singing him a song, you finally took your phone off of DND.

Immediately, you were bombarded with millions of messages from everyone. 20 missed calls from Gen. 11 from Ian. 6 from your dad. 120+ text messages in total. 1 from Gojo.

Was everything ok? Please don’t let something be bad. Please. Please everyone be safe.  You heart beat increased. You were immediately transported to when you received news of Satoru’s accident. When the world learned about you running out of your wedding. When Satoru’s affair came out to the world. When you first got the calls of your mother’s sickness...

No. I can’t be selfish right now. If something happened, I have to be strong. Swallowing your fears, you opened the message you thought was the most important right now

Satoru: I’m sorry

No no no. He can’t do this again. He can’t! No please God no… You were almost about to call him, when you received another message from Gen. She was incessantly messaging you. Accidentally clicking on it, you read her last message

Gen: Please answer. Are you ok?

Now you were confused. Why was she asking if you were ok? You weren’t the victim. Doing some simple sleuthing, you looked at all the previous messages. Your eyes widened. You heart stopped. Tears filled your eyes. Looking over at Sachi, you took in a shaky breath. You had to be strong. Or at least strong enough to leave the room before you broke down. You had to do this for him. Stop being selfish Y/N

Shakily you walked out of his room. Looking back to make sure he was asleep; you closed the door gently. Before falling to your knees and letting all the tears fall. They pooled in the floor. You made sure to be quiet, but you were inconsolable. You hugged yourself tightly. You were being selfish right now. You knew that. But you were alone, and it was dark. It was ok to be selfish right now. Your heart was racing as you consoled yourself.

After half an hour of crying on the floor. You took a deep breath in and stood up. You went to the bathroom and stared at yourself.

“You need to stop being such a selfish monster, Y/N. You can’t keep ruining people. You can’t always be the victim. You need to make amends for everything you’ve done.”

You started your nightly ritual. Tears would occasionally mix in with cleanser or the water, but you didn’t stop. You had to be normal. You had to be happy. You owed everyone that. Sometimes it felt like you were caged behind your smile. Your joy had become a prison: a way to pay off all the bad things you’ve done.

Settling in bed, you grabbed your phone and responded to almost everyone. Finally, you reached Satoru’s message. 

Y/N: No worries! Congratulations! I expect an invitation lol :)

Satoru proposed to Akemi.

(Flash back to a year ago)

After that New York trip, you hated everyone. You hated your dad for pushing you into this marriage. You hated Getou for helping Satoru cheat on you during your marriage, but not understand why you wouldn’t want a baby with Satoru. You hated Satoru’s mom for projecting her self-loathing onto you. You hated your mom for dying. 

Above all else, you hated Satoru for what he did to you. He blamed you for a marriage he agreed to. He gaslit you into staying, knowing your selfless nature would do anything for his forgiveness. Even if that meant being a wife to a man in love. You hated him for taking you to the Bora Bora trip. You hated him for choosing your only friend to date. You hated that you had to go through months of emotional neglect and abuse for him to be kind. Just for Akemi to get it immediately. You hated that he became a better person only after using you. You hated him. You HATED him.

A spiteful part of your heart almost laughed. You were right! All the reasons he loved you, he found in her. You saw all the pictures he had of her. You saw the way he would caress her fingers. You saw him waiting for her. He never loved you! You were just convenient. And that’s why he loved her! Because she was convenient. Had you never sent her to meet him, they wouldn’t have fallen in love. If anything, he would be dating the nurse! Gojo Satoru doesn’t love. He just clings on to what’s closest. 

You spent a month marinating in these thoughts. In the week where you didn’t have Sachiro, you wouldn’t leave the office. You had begun sleeping there. You lost weight. Your face was pale. You were a walking corpse. You got assistants to pick up and drop off Sachiro. You never spoke to Satoru. 

This was to be your life now. After spending three days in the basement of the office creating, cutting, and sowing, Nobara finally convinced you to leave.

“Seriously Y/N, this is the 4th time I’ve had to get you gauze instead of bandages. I know you’re hurt, and I know you’re trying to distract yourself. But this is getting dangerous. Not only for you but for the clothes! We can’t sell anything if it has your blood all over it!” She tried to joke at the end

 As you finished wrapping the gauze around your forearm, you pitifully looked at her. She was so young and innovative. Despite being an intern, you had already set aside a permanent spot in the company for her. Stop burdening her with your problems.

Blinking away your sorrowful expression, you laughed. “Guess I gotta wrap myself in gauze and bandages before getting to work right?”

“Or you could just take a break. Jeez, I never thought workaholic millionaires existed.”

Ruffling her head as you walked towards her. “Thank you for waiting for me. You really didn’t have to. I promise, I won’t take advantage of your kindness. Go ahead and go home, I’ll lock up.”

Stunned, she took a second to respond. Your eyes were different right now. They were vulnerable and sad, but they were so kind at the same time.

“It’s no problem! Really! Thank you Y/N. Let’s work hard together.” Bowing, she made her way out of the store. Maybe you were going to get better?

After cleaning up, you placed the small stuffed bear you were working on in your small bag. Locking the store behind you, you headed towards your apartment. You had made the choice to move out. You were so filled with anger all the time. It would kill you if you were to accidentally lash out against the people you treasured. It was a tough conversation, but you needed space. 

As you walked, you decided last minute to head into a craft store. You needed a simple heart locket. Then you could gift the toy to your son.

With only one mission and energy drinks fueling you, you almost didn’t notice them. It wasn’t until you heard your son’s gleeful laughter did you perk up. Peering through the aisles, you saw him. No, you saw them. They both held your son’s hands as they looked at the toys. Letting go only when he would rush over to the loudest or brightest thing. Finally, he settled on a small plush. It had no lights and didn’t make any noise. They encouraged him to get something more expensive. Something flashier. But he didn’t. He wanted the light pink bunny. 

“It makes me think of mama!”

You saw Satoru and Akemi falter. It seemed that even the mention of your name silenced them. Your heart was beating so loud, you were sure they could hear it too. Leaning down Satoru ruffled his head. 

“Aren’t you a sweet little munchkin! Oh, but look at this!” 

You heart almost stopped. You saw Satoru redirect Satchiro’s attention to a cooler, bigger toy. As any kid would, he dropped the stuffed bunny and ran towards the huge toy. Gojo and Akemi exchanged relieved expressions. After purchasing the toy, they headed out. 

Walking into the aisle, you picked the bunny up. Holding it, you inspected its simplicity. Looking at the face, you realized why the bunny reminded him of you. The bunny had little tear dops in its eyes. Rushing to the cashier, you bought the bunny and the heart locket. It appears that you rushed too fast, as by the time you exited the store, they were still there. 

Sachiro, the spoiled child he was, was throwing a tantrum at having to be put in the car seat. As if he could detect your presence, Satoru immediately looked up. He saw you holding the bunny toy. His eyes filled with guilt and embarrassment. He knew that you were going to be upset. Of course you were. You were always angry at something. Nonetheless, he called you over. You were still the mother of his child.

After seeing the domestic moment in the store, you wanted to go up to them and give them a piece of your mind. You wanted to yell at them at the very least. But no, you walked over to them. Refusing to look up. 

At the mention of your name Sachiro perked up. Although he was already strapped into the seat, he did his best to peek out of the car door.

“Hi Y/N”. the tension was palpable. Choosing to ignore him, you approached Sachiro.

“Hi my little star! How are you? Did you have fun today?”

“Hi mommy! I missed you! Wanna go home! We did a lot of stuff-hmm mommy what are you holding?”

Remembering you were holding the bunny, you quickly hid it behind you back. “Just work stuff baby. I’m happy to hear you had fun! Mommy has to go, but I’ll see you this Sunday, ok baby?”

Giving him a big kiss, you did your best to hug him and said goodbye. 

Without looking up, you thanked Gojo and Akemi and began walking away. As soon as you got home, you set the plush down and pulled out your own. They both looked so ugly in your bandaged hands. Gently setting down the plush bunny, you tightly held onto the bear’s neck. Slowly, the pressure increased, and you were chocking the bear as tears streamed down your face. It was so ugly. This ugly bear in your ugly hands in your ugly home. Everything was so ugly. 

A beep from your phone broke you from this trance. It was from Satoru. 

Satoru: Hey

Satoru: Just wanted to let you know that we meant no harm in not getting him the bunny.

Then why? Why not get him that stupid toy! Sachiro is my kid! I am his mom! If he wanted that toy, then you should have gotten it! You almost wrote everything you thought. But no- no you were wrong. Sachiro wasn’t yours. Satoru had every right to get his son whatever he wanted. You kept Sachiro away from him for three years. You were the bad guy. 

Trembling you came to the realization. Rushing to the bathroom, you stripped yourself of all the clothes and the bandages. You looked at yourself in the mirror. You almost barfed. You were a monster. You were disgusting. Disfigured. Non-human.

Is this how Satoru felt?

The worst part of you were your eyes. They were so dead. Did you always look like this? How could anyone even stand to look at you? You were vile.

You had change. You spiraled into an abyss of anger and resentment. You lost yourself. Where was the sweet girl you once were. Growing a backbone didn’t mean you had to change. After a quick shower filled with tears, you got dressed and headed into the spare room. You spent the rest of the night making a light blue bunny. Unlike the store bought one, this one was smiling. It was happy. Sowing the heart locket onto the chest, you put in a small image of you and Sachiro. 

You had to be better. You had to be kind.

Grabbing the phone, you replied.

Y/N: Thank you for reaching out, but really, I didn’t mind! 

Y/N: Good night!

The next day, you didn’t go to work. Instead, you were at a café, waiting for someone to show up. You felt awful, but you knew this was the best thing to do. You had to be kind. Even if that meant being a villain. If being evil is the price you pay, then you will gladly pay it. Even more people would hate you. Everyone would. But you knew what you were doing was good. You had to be good. 

As soon as he walked in, you knew that he knew. His furrowed brow and tight jaw made it obvious that he was upset. And he had every right to be. Any anger and hate he harbored for you, you would accept.

“Toji, here’s your coffee. I’m so incredibly sorry for calling you at the last minute. I appreciate the time you took out of your day to meet with me”

He didn’t even sit down. He didn’t take the coffee.

Its now or never. Getting on your knees, you placed your hands on the floor and bowed. Your forehead was almost touching the floor. 

“Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for being a shoulder to lean on. Thank you for letting me join your family. Thank you for everything Toji. And I am so sorry for not giving you an ounce of it back. I am a selfish monster. I took everything you gave me and more. I was never a good fiancé. I wasn’t even a good friend. I took advantage of your loneliness. I will never forget the time we had together. But I ask you to forget about me. You deserve a more honest person. A person who can give you everything you deserve and more.”

People were looking and many taking pictures. Noticing this, he grabbed you by your arm, and headed out of the café. His grip was strong; it was sure to leave a bruise in your forearm, he nearly threw you into the passenger side of the car, slamming the door. He walked over to his side and began driving. The car was silent. You took refuge in it. You knew what he was going to ask. And you had to lie. You had to make him hate you. 

Soon enough, he parked in a desolate park. He refused to look at you. You didn’t want to look at him either, but you did. You had to. 

After minutes of harrowing silence, he finally spoke in a low voice

“Did you sleep with him?”

You knew he was going to ask this. A tear slid down your cheek. Your hands had begun to bleed as you kept them in closed fists.

“Yes”

He still didn’t look at you.

“Bullshit. You forget that I can see through your lies. I know why you’re doing this. You love him. You never stopped. Even after all the shit he put you through you still want him. Why now? Three years and I wasn’t enough for you. I defend you; I support you... all for what? For you to run back to your abuser. Every time I think your mine, you disrespect me. You humiliate me. You’re doing to me what that fucker did to you.”

“…Yes. I am. That’s why you have to leave me Toji. I can’t stand my reflection. I am so selfish-”

“Shut up. Don’t play the ‘pity me’ card. God, you really are something. The forever victim.”

You stayed quiet. In a perfect world, you would defend yourself. You would tell him that you aren’t trying to be the victim. You never were! You see that now. 

“You’re right.”

“All those fucking articles were right about you. I spent so much time, so much energy telling you they were lies. Turns out strangers know you better than I do. You are a two-timing bitch. You are selfish. You’re insatiable. Why couldn’t I have been enough for you. How the hell was I competing with the man who never loved you? And losing! You deserve nothing, you know that… You never left that room, did you?”

“W-what room?”

“That hospital room. Sure, you’re older now. You’ve been to a million places. But mentally? Mentally, you’re still in that hospital room. There is no cure for your loneliness. Face it Y/N, the problem has and always will be you. If you want to die next to your mom, be my guest. But you need to leave that room Y/N. If not for you, for your kid.”

He stayed quiet. It was your turn to speak. He didn’t want to hear you, but his patient nature told him to give you a chance. Not to defend yourself. But rather explain yourself.

“You’re right Toji. I think that’s why I always look for you. You always have the wisest things to say. And I know that. I’ve let the world pass me by. I have a void in my heart and its rotted me from the inside out. I’ll spend my entire life working for your forgiveness. And my lifetime might not be enough for that. You are everything to me. And that’s why I can’t let myself continue to poison you. I’ve changed you for the worst.”

You two sat in silence. You could hear his uneven breath. Reaching out you put hand on his shoulder. For the first time he turned to look at you. And there he saw it. Your eyes. 

Red and puffy with tears, your face for once didn’t look as haunted as usual. There was always this air of anger around you. Your shoulders were always tense. Eyebrows always furrowed. Not now. You looked younger. Instead of the anger that had clouded your eyes, he could finally see his reflection.

You didn’t look happy per se, but you looked aware. He looked at the hand on his shoulder. Even after everything he said, you were comforting him? This was the old you. The selfless to a fault Y/N. He couldn’t tell if this was a good or bad thing. 

He then noticed the mark on your forearm, already purple. In the shape of his hands. Reaching out he gently caressed the bruises, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips. 

“Don’t worry about it. I love you Toji. Please, forget me.”

When the news broke out that you had ended your relationship, Ian did his best to remove a lot of the posts. It was hard since there were so many shots of you on the floor begging for forgiveness. If you didn’t look guilty then, now you did. Why else would you be apologizing? But you didn’t mind. Instead, you focused on removing any article that spoke badly on Toji. Especially after some pictures of you and that hand-print bruise were published. 

Fortunately, your brand had already been established. And while the coverage halted some planned promotions and runways, by the end of the month everything was normal again.

You changed your phone to a flip phone. You did your best to text Satoru about pick up times. Most often he wouldn’t respond. Instead, you would have to call Miwa. On the rare occasion that he did, you would spend the rest of the day crying. You cried so much. You couldn’t help but remember that way they both held Sachiro’s hands. The domestic life you would never provide for him. 

Often you would contemplate if you should have accepted him. Did you really love him? Or was it just easier to love him? You couldn’t trust yourself. Your mind was in ruins. You had no one. Since your change in attitude, people have become nicer to you. But you weren’t happy. And you stopped letting people get close. You even began to push away Gen and Ian. Monthly, you would meet with your dad and that was it.

Was life good? No, but it was better. You would be content if life stayed like this. But now, a year after your failed marriage, Satoru was going to prepare his own.

(Present time)

The day after receiving that message, it was published everywhere. It was the only thing articles were talking about. With the mentions of Satoru’s new marriage, you were put into the spotlight again.

The paparazzi swarmed you. Leaving your house had become difficult. They harassed you. Pushing you while demanding you answer questions. You smiled. You thanked them for their time. You would bid them farewell. It was too dangerous that you could no longer pick your son up. Not that you minded. You didn’t want to see how happy they were. Not until you were done healing at least.

You spent the weekend doing everything Sachiro wanted. Breakfast in bed? Of course. Quick trip to the local festival? Duh. Building a fort? Obviously. 

By the time Sunday night came he was so tired. All he asked was that you sing to him before his dad picked him up. Now you sat with Sachiro’s head on your lap. Normally, a bodyguard would meet you at your door and take your son downstairs as to not garner attention. 

As soon as the knock came, you gently laid his head on couch. Slowly you opened the door, expecting to see the normal guard.

“Thank- oh. Good evening, Satoru. Are you here to pick up Sachiro?”

He looked past you and saw Sachiro sleeping. Letting himself in, he sat on the couch and petted Sachi’s head. After moments of silence, he finally spoke up. 

“Yes, but I also came because I need to talk to you.”

Solemnly, you nodded. “I actually have something to say as well. I was planning to email it later, but if you’re here then we should discuss. Would you like anything?”

Satoru couldn’t help but stare at you. Just a year ago, he had buried the old you. It was his fault he knew that. If you were mean and angry, it was because he made you that way. The damage was irreparable. But here he saw her again. Or at least a glimpse of her. 

Even though he didn’t respond, you still handed him a water bottle.

“Did you want to go first?” 

“Um, yes. I just... I just wanted to apologize for not letting you know. I was planning on calling you, but I got distracted. I’m sorry you had to learn that way.”

“Silly. We all flub up sometimes. I would have appreciated knowing so that I could explain it to Sachiro. Thank you for apologizing.”

Even though you were smiling, he could tell you were sad. Your eyes were distant. It was like you had detached yourself from everyone. Somehow, he already missed that angry Y/N. At least he knew what you were thinking. Now, it felt like when you two had gotten married. How you smiled every time he yelled at you. He expected you would say the “I don’t care what you do with your life” speech and spitefully kick him out. He could sleep well knowing you hated him. But seeing your smile, it felt like he was cheating again. No. No, you asked for him to forget you. This is good. You’re getting better. But is returning to your selfless self better? That’s when you suffered the most. That’s what changed you. 

You didn’t give him much time to think as you started to speak. 

“Satoru, can I ask you for a favor?”

He knew what you were going to say. This nice act can’t last forever. This was the angry Y/N he knew. 

“Can you take care of Sachiro for a couple of months? I know it’s a lot, but I have some... business to take care of. I would take him with me, but I don’t want to separate you from him anymore than I already have.”

Oh? 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll take care of him. I can’t believe you had to ask. He’s my son, of course I will take care of him.”

His tone had changed. He had gotten angry at the mention of the three years. You didn’t react. You just thanked him.

Gojo enjoyed his week with Sachiro and Akemi. It felt like they had a family. This is what he wanted. Sure, you were Sachiro’s real mom, but Akemi was also kind of like a mom. He noticed how well the two got along. He sought comfort in her and laughed with her. Yes. This is good. 

Yet, he couldn’t help but think about you. 

Every time Sachiro offered the first bite of his food to him. Every time Sachiro defended the annoying people at the mall. Every time Sachiro smiled, Satoru saw you. Yes, Sachiro looked exactly like him, but everything about him was you. It was all you.

His heart almost broke when he saw Sachiro singing to his stuffed animals. 

“Hey munchkin. BedTIME!” He joyfully grabbed Sachiro and swung him around the room. Instead of laughing, Sachiro began to pout. 

“No playing at bedtime dada. No”

“Oh, my bad Sachi.” He was a replica of you. 

Satoru sat on the bed as Sachiro headed to the bathroom, pulled out his step stool and began cleaning his face. After finishing his regiment, he waddled back into the room and settled himself into bed. 

“Is dada going to read me a story?”

“Can I sing to you instead munchkin?”

“Hmmm… no thank you dada.”

“Aww you’re a meanie! Um, but actually I need to talk to you about something serious.”

“Mhmm”

“You like Akemi, right? Dada likes her a lot. But it’s very important that you like her.”

“Yesh! Akemi is nice!”

He knew that this was wrong, but he had to ask. “Do you ever think Akemi could be like momma?”

Immediately tears sprouted from the boy’s eyes. He started frantically grabbing and throwing some of his toys. 

“NO! Mommy is Mommy! No one else is mommy! I hate Akemi! I hate her! I want mommy! Mommy!!”

Sachiro was screeching. Gojo was thankful that Akemi was in another room. She really did love Sachiro, and it would have broken her heart to hear him say that.

He held Sachiro close, trying to console him. “Shhh, baby. Daddy didn’t mean that ok? No one will replace mommy. Mommy is all yours.” Sachiro cried until his tears tired him out. No, I can’t tell him. Not today. Maybe Y/N should tell him instead. Sorry Y/N. I’m using your selflessness again. 

Soon enough the week ended, and he passed him back to you. Instead of showing up in person, as he did last time, he sent the bodyguards to take him. He was being cowardly, he knew. But he couldn’t risk Sachiro hating him. It’s your fault their relationship is so weak. It should only be right that it’s your job to explain everything to Sachiro. Right?

Satoru: Hey, I tried to tell him about me and Akemi. He didn’t respond very well. Could you explain it to him?

You almost rolled your eyes at the message. You were being punished. You knew that. But you responded with a simple ‘Ok’ anyway. 

Switch offs happened at night to make sure that each parent spent the majority of the day with Sachiro. You and Sachiro headed to the bathroom and completed your nightly routine all while dancing and occasionally teasing each other. This is what you lived for. Yes, you were lonely all the time. But you weren’t lonely with him. He was your reason to exist. It was going to hurt you being away from him for so long. But this would be good for everyone. This would be your last act of selflessness. This would atone for every bad thing you did.  

By the time you cleaned up all the splashed water, Sachiro was already in bed ready for his song. Instead, you sat on the floor. 

“Hey star boy, I need to talk to you. It’s going to be serious, ok?”

As soon as you finished the sentence, he burst into tears. Hugging you close he shook his head in a no motion.

“NO! I hate her! I hate her! She’s not mommy! Mommy is mommy! Mommy is my star and I’m her star! Not Akemi!”

Confused you held him tight. You cooed and brushed his snow-white hair back. “No Akemi won’t replace me baby.”

He pulled away to look up at you. “Daddy asked me! He asked me if Akemi could be mommy! I said no!”

You sighed dejectedly. This is why it didn’t go well. Your son was naturally altruistic. He would have understood and accepted had Gojo explained everything normally. But it seems that Gojo had made a selfish request. Why is it always my job to clear up Satoru’s name? Why can he be selfish and be the victim, but I can’t? No! No, I can’t think that! I’ve been selfish my whole life! Satoru is a victim. This will all be solved soon…

“My star, he didn’t mean it that way. Listen to me Sachiro. Me and you are a family, right? Me and you were also part of Toji’s family. Sometimes, when you love someone, you can add them to your family. Mommy messed up with Toji, and I’m no longer part of their family. But Satoru has someone he loves. Is it ok for her to join our family?”

You had dumped a lot of information on him. It took a second to process everything. 

“So, we aren’t family with Toji?”

“I’m not baby. But you will always be, ok. That’s how love works. They love you a lot.”

“Are you and daddy family?”

“Yes, we are. You make us a family.”

“But does mommy love daddy?”

You were stumped. This is probably why Satoru didn’t want this conversation. So, you answered honestly.

“Yes, mommy loves daddy.”

“Then why does daddy love Akemi?”

“Love is strange, baby. Sometimes you love people more. And he loves Akemi more. Is that ok?”

He took a second to think

“I guess…”

“Thank you for being so selfless Sachiro.” You stopped to think. “But if you’re ever not okay, then you have to tell someone, ok? Its ok to be selfish too.” You were just projecting, but you knew it was important for him to hear that too.

“Ok?”

“Speaking of being selfish… Mommy is going away for a couple of months.” As expected, he started bawling. He started kicking and throwing. He was loud. He was angry. He was betrayed

“NO! NO! Mommy can’t go! Mommy can’t leave me! She can’t! I’ll be a good boy I promise! I’ll eat every veggie! I won’t cry anymore! Mommy can’t leave!! It’s Akemi’s fault! Her fault! That’s why mommy cries so much! Its daddy too! Mommy never cried!”

You started crying too. All those times you thought you hid your tears he saw. He saw everything. This was the worst-case scenario. You had to leave. You couldn’t let him see you like that anymore. You had to leave that hospital room. Toji was right.

You held onto him. Even when he began to hit you. Even when he rubbed his snot over you. You waited until he calmed down, Silent tears were streaming down his face.

“Can we go back to New York mommy? I hate it here. Daddy is mean to mommy. Mommy cries all the time. Mommy is lonely and sad while Daddy is happy. It’s not ok.”

You wiped his tears away. 

“Sachiro, don’t say that. Mommy is paying the price for being bad. Daddy deserves to be happy. He loves you so so much. Please forget everything bad, Sachiro. Daddy wasn’t mean to me. If he was, I wouldn’t let you stay with him, right? Mommy isn’t lonely. She has you. Mommy will never be sad as long as Sachiro is here. You’re like my superhero! Mommy is struggling and she needs to fix some stuff so she can be a better mommy for you ok, baby? None of this is your fault. I have to go, but I promise you, this will be better for you and for me. I promise with my whole heart. The second I get everything sorted out, I’ll pick you up. This hurts me too, baby. But I need to be a better mommy for you. None of this if your fault. Don’t you ever think that. Hey, to help my little star, I have present for you.”

You stood up and presented him with a white, sleek box. It had beautiful light blue ribbon on it. He held it but refused to open it. 

“I even got myself a present so we could match!”

You pulled out your own white box. Seeing that you both had a present, he was more willing to open his. It was a phone. You had a matching one. You really didn’t want another phone, as you were content with the flip phone you already had. It made ignoring all the evil things people said about you a lot easier to manage. 

“When mommy’s gone, we can call each other all the time. I’ll respond to every text. I’ll answer every phone call. I promise. I won’t be gone for long. But I’ll text you so much you’ll wish I was.”

This garnered a small giggle from him. 

“Don’t worry baby, we have the rest of the week. We’ll do everything you want.”

He nodded glumly. He wasn’t too happy, but he felt a lot better knowing he could reach out to you.��

You slept with him. Holding him close, you did your best to treasure these moments.

When Sunday night finally came, you asked Satoru to pick him up personally. This was a big change, even if it was temporary. You wanted Sachiro to be as relaxed as possible. You and him sat on the couch. You had packed a bunch of his valuables and even some pictures so that he wouldn’t feel so lonely.  He was again on your lap, fighting to stay awake as you ran your fingers through his hair.

The serene moment was disrupted by the loud knocks coming from the door. Expecting to see Satoru you opened the door, only to see Akemi there. You did your best to keep your smile. It wasn’t that you hated her. No, she was your friend at one point to. But an evil part of you knew you could never forgive her. Not for dating Satoru, but for choosing him over your friendship. You told her everything, but because she never experienced it, she could ignore it. That is selfish.  As if you can critique others for being selfish. 

You welcome both of them. Sachiro already stood up, holding the blanket closely. He refused to look at his dad or Akemi. His eyes were already brimming with tears.

Bending down to his level, you caress his face. “It’s ok to cry, my star. But before you do, I have a gift for you.”

Reaching behind the couch, you presented him the light blue bunny you had made. His eyes widened and he squealed in joy Running to hug it he struggled opening the locket. One he did, he looked at you with the biggest smile on his face. He ran and hugged your knees. 

“Whenever you miss mommy, give that bunny a big hug, and I’ll feel it. Have fun with Daddy. You must be a good boy. Call me whenever you want, but I promise to call you every day. Mommy just needs to get some work done and then everything will be back to normal ok?”

After a couple minutes of holding each other, he finally walked over to where Satoru was. He raised his hands asking to be picked up. 

“Thank you, Satoru. Thank you, Akemi. I trust you two will take wonderful care of him.” You bowed at a 90-degree angle. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why are you leaving?” You hadn’t spoken to Akemi in a while. For a couple months, she stayed employed with you. Yet, after your official break up with Toji, she immediately resigned. You always wondered if she thought you did it because of Satoru. 

Smiling gently you respond, “I’m sorry, I can’t say. It’s nothing crazy, I promise! I just need some time.”

“It’s not because of…”

“Goodness no! I know I haven’t been the most supportive. I’ve been downright awful. I hope both of you forgive me for how I acted. It was selfish and attention seeking. I don’t expect any special invitation, but please know that I support this relationship. I’m glad you two found each other. Truly”

Satoru almost flinched at the words you used. The guilt of you actually believing all the nasty things he said to you weighed heavy on him. He almost regretted bringing Akemi here. If she wasn’t, he would have consoled you. Even if it only would have been a hand on your shoulder. 

The worst part about hearing you subscribe to all his insults was seeing the honesty behind it. You did think you were a terrible person.

Before either of them could say anything, you started ushering them out. 

“You guys must head out now! Sachiro still needs his night routine. He has school tomorrow, and he’s already stayed up so late. If you guys feel like he’s too tired, I don’t mind if he doesn’t go. It’s your call. Thank you both for everything!”

You nearly pushed them out of the apartment. As soon as that door closed, you broke down. This was going to be one of the hardest things you’ve done. But you had to do it. 

Nearly two months have passed. Satoru relished every second he had with his son. He has never felt more like a family than he did now. Everything was perfect. 

If it weren’t for the bunny he carried everywhere. Or the fact that Sachiro couldn’t do anything without having to send his mom a text. Sending a sleepy blurry selfie was more important than getting dressed. He would facetime you every night before going to sleep. There were times where he even ignored Satoru in lieu of sending you a selfie with a filter on top of it.

Satoru heard and saw more of you now, than he did in the last year. 

Even Akemi was getting a little frustrated. 

Yet, Satoru wasn’t just frustrated. He felt guilty. Your presence at the house had become so abundant, that he would often stay in Sachiro’s room just to hear you sing. He did his best to mind his business, but in the cases where he saw the silly selfie you would send back. It would plague his mind for the rest of the day. 

From the few glimpses he got, he could tell that something was changing. You weren’t in the office, or in any modern building it seemed. You were a lot livelier. You were happier?

How could a mom be happier away from her child? He would nearly scoff out loud at the thought. Maybe this was your way of giving him full custody? No there was no way. 

The next day, after sending Sachiro to school, he headed to the office. It was a usual day. He was glad he was able to save the company. He really was going to lose all this over you? No. He loved you. And you didn’t love him. But Akemi did. And his workers needed him.

As he continued working, suddenly Miwa and Nanami both presented themselves. Miwa was always easy to read. She was skittish and nervous. Nanami, on the other hand, was harder to read, but he could tell he was a little unsure as well.  “Nanami! Miwa! What bring you in here? I reviewed my schedule already. Is there something I missed?”

Miwa cracked first. “Um... Mr. Gojo, have you been in contact with Ms. Y/N recently?”

“She calls Sachiro nearly every day. Did something happen?”

“Well, have you been in contact in the last hour?”

“Miwa may you please get to the point?”

Nervously, she looked up at Nanami. Sighing and pushing his glasses up, he handed Satoru the iPad. “None of this means anything. And if something did happen, it is not your responsibility. It’s just rather strange.”

Gojo looked over the screen. In big bold letters there it was:

Y/N STEPS DOWN FROM HEARTS COMPANY. 

Y/N SELLS OVER A MILLION IN STOCKS

HEARTES INTRODUCES NEW CEO AND CREATIVE DESIGNER

Y/N RESIGNS FROM COMPANY

Y/N’S APARTMENT UP FOR SALE?!

Gojo looked at the headlines frantically. He knew what all this was implying. Yet, he needed verification. He couldn’t fathom the thought that you would have… No there’s no way. You have Sachiro. You wouldn’t do this.

“Um... what exactly does this have to do with me Nanami?”

“It means nothing. It seems that Y/N has done some irrational choices that garnered some attention from the media. That’s all this is. Unfortunately, you know how convoluted your history is with her. Some people might assume that since she’s acting out in such an illogical and hysterical manner, that she may be going through a manic episode. A manic episode that may precede…” Nanami couldn’t finish the sentence. 

His heart was beating. No, there’s no way you could be gone. No. No. You made a promise! You promised to return for Sachiro. Right Sachiro. That’s why Gojo is feeling so bothered and anxious. He’s worried for the mother of his child, that’s all. 

“I think… I think I’ll head home. If she has been in contact with anyone, it would be my son. Thank you for letting me know.”

As he made his way to the car, he couldn’t help but speed. He needed to make sure you were ok... for the sake of Sachiro.

On the way, he received a phone call from Akemi. Normally, he would have pulled over and answered her. But not today. He drove, breaking most speed laws all the way home. He barely turned his car off as he rushed the door. Yet, as he got to the door, he found a box. It was for Sachiro Gojo. Without hesitation, he looked at the sender’s address in the corner and typed it in. It was a two-hour drive, but he didn’t care. This box didn’t prove anything. You must have sent it days ago. If you had planned to do this all at once that meant only one thing. You were planning to commit. There was no other option. With only this one mission fueling him, he unknowingly kept ignoring Akemi’s calls

After an hour and a half of driving, Gojo started to notice his surroundings. This was an older city. There were multiple shrines and elders. There were very few cars. A lot of cats.  This was weird. He continued following the GPS. He passed the city and made his way up the mountainous region. By 5 pm. He had reached an isolated house on top of the hills. The land was relatively flat once he got up there. There was an impressive house. It looked new. The house wasn’t a mansion, but it was still large. The lights in what he assumed the kitchen were on. Hesitantly, he knocked.

Soon enough someone opened the door. No, not someone, you did

There stood you. You looked younger, happier, kinder. Unlike last time, your happiness didn’t feel like a mask. It felt genuine. He couldn’t marinate in his confusion as you grabbed his hand and pulled him in. 

“Hi Gojo! I’m shocked to see you here! Come in! Let me get you a lemonade. It must have been a long drive.”

You sat him down on your couch. He couldn’t help but think about that mansion. The one where you were supposed to start and raise a family. This one was a lot cozier, with the architecture of it being rounder in a way. It felt like a cottage despite its massive size. There were a lot of plants. On the walls were framed pictures. Mostly of Sachiro. A lot were ones he’s never seen. There were a lot of selfies of you two. And hidden between all of them was that Disneyland photo. It was when he had amnesia. When he thought you were cheating. Before he knew of all your lies. That instantly ruined his mood. 

Placing a coaster, you set his drink down. He couldn’t help but notice that the coasters were made with images of Sachiro’s drawings. 

“The lemonade is rather tart since the lemons are homegrown. So, I went ahead and added a bit of sugar. But here’s some more if you like. I don’t know if you still have the same sweet tooth. So, if I put too much sugar, let me know! I’ll get you another cup!” You set down a jar with sugar. You were so talkative. The last time you spoke this much with him was when you were kids. 

He didn’t move. Noticing his discomfort, you kept talking. “I was going to call you tomorrow. But I’m glad to see you. Did you come alone?”

“Y/N, I thought you committed suicide.”

You deflated slightly. Somberly you looked around the room. With a gentle smile, you looked at him. It was like you had puppy dog eyes. He could get lost in them. It had been a year since he was attracted to you, but he couldn’t help but want to lean closer to you. To breathe your air. He stopped himself in time

“It all happened kinda fast right? I was hoping that by doing it all at once, it would be like ripping the band aid off, y’know? People are bound to talk, so instead of doing it slowly and reigniting interest in my life every couple of weeks, I thought it would be easier if I just made one big splash and let the water settle from there.”

It felt like he was in a different dimension. You spoke so casually to him. It almost felt like he was the weird one. In disbelief, he stayed quiet.

Taking a deep breath, you continued. “Honestly, I did plan to. To commit suicide, I mean.  So, I guess you weren’t completely wrong.”

He stared at you. How you casually admitted to your suicidal ideations.

“What? You can’t be the only one to be suicidal right?” You joked, hoping to ease the tension. It did the exact opposite. 

“Y/N I need you to fucking explain everything. No jokes”

Your gaze hardened. “Gojo, you do not disrespect me in my house. I have welcomed you because you are my child’s father, but I will forbid you from coming here again if you speak to me like that again.”

He remained silent but nodded. It was weird. You definitely had grown a backbone since he last saw you in your apartment. Just a couple months ago, you looked like the submissive, docile, doormat you once were. But now? Now you confident and strong without sacrificing your trusting and selfless nature. You were a perfect blend of your youth and your experience. 

“This is my way of asking for forgiveness. From everyone. I’ve done a lot of awful things. Since that New York trip, I became vindictive. I became evil. I didn’t know why. How could I be jealous that the man I encouraged to move on moved on? I was changing Satoru. I had thought that being mean and cold was a way to protect myself. But in reality, I had gotten worse. I couldn’t stand my reflection. Then, I saw you Akemi and my star at the store. You remember right? With the pink bunny? You all looked so happy. It was the life Sachiro deserved. I went home and saw myself. Really saw myself. I couldn’t recognize who that person in the mirror was. Since then, I was determined to seek forgiveness from everyone I wronged. My first thought was to kill myself. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to my star. Even now, I find myself fantasizing about just jumping off that cliff… I even planted flowers there so whenever Sachiro visited, he would feel safe. But I can’t. That’s why I have all these photos and drawings of him. If I keep thinking of him, I’ll never have time to contemplate killing myself.”

Gojo couldn’t stop his eyes from watering. He almost reached out to grab your hands. He closed his hands harshly, forcing himself not to move. “But Y/N... you didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, you have done wrong. But we all have. You shouldn’t have to punish yourself for existing.”

Always and empath, you leaned forward and placed a cute octopus squishy in his hands. He quietly accepted it, showing the indents his nails made on palm “You don’t want to accidentally cut yourself. I learned that a little too late.” You laughed gently as you showed him your own palm. There were small scars in the shape of your nails. 

Holding the squishy in one hand, he used the other hand to inspect your hand. They were different. It was obvious that you still took care of your hands: soft, supple, perfect nail beds, trimmed nails. But upon further inspection, he could see multiple scars littering your fingers. His gaze drifted upwards to your forearm. There he saw some bigger scars. Some still scabbing. He could feel his own scar throb at the memory of the pain. Gojo couldn’t stop himself as some tears fell out. He couldn’t stop himself from tracing their outline.

“Why- why would you do this? You were alone the whole time? Then why? Y/N I don’t understand you? You were going to…”

He was interrupted by your melodious laughter. You pulled your hand away. “You’re too sweet Gojo. No. No these aren’t what you think they are. It’s just some office mistakes. I jumped into my work to fill that void of loneliness. But you know, it’s pretty dangerous to be handling sharp rotary cutters when you haven’t slept for days.” 

Grabbing his hand, you pulled him up. “Let’s go for a walk!”

Leading him to the back door, her couldn’t help but stare at your interlinked hands. The tips of his ears turned pink. He felt so young right now. No. No I can’t think like that. 

The back yard was like a Ghibli fantasy forest. It had plenty of lush green plants and flowers growing everywhere. In a corner there was a cute gazebo with two easels ready. One noticibly smaller than the other. There were plenty of trees a reasonable distance from the house. They provided a nice area of shade. Some grew peaches, others grew limes.  A stone path led to another corner where a sand pit was already set up. The entire perimeter was protected with a gorgeous white fence. Tall enough that Sachiro wouldn’t be possible to scale it. There was one exit. You headed there still holding Gojo’s hand. Typing in a security code, the door opened, and you headed into the forest. After a 5-minute walk, the forest cleared and presented a cliff side. Undoubtedly it was gorgeous. The ocean was beautiful. Flowers and clovers surrounded the area. 

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until he saw that the sun was setting. You let go of his hand and sat down, resting your head on your knees. You always had that curious habit of returning to a fetal position. Settling next to you, he couldn’t stop himself from looking at you. You looked ethereal. With the sun in your face, the wind in your hair. There was a gentle smile playing on your lips as you stared at the ocean. 

“Gojo…”

He couldn’t help but squish the little octopus. He didn’t know why it hurt him to hear you call him only by his last name.

“I disagree with what you said earlier. I should be punished for my existence. I’ve done nothing good. Born into a life of luxury, and I still managed to want more… When Toji broke up with me, he told me something very valuable. He told me that I was stuck in my mother’s hospital room. That I never left. And he’s right. Ever since my mom died, I became a walking corpse. I cursed myself with eternal loneliness. And yet, I so wanted to fight that loneliness. So when my father mentioned the marriage, I was ecstatic. Although we haven’t spoken in years and you refused to answer any messages I sent, my loneliness convinced me that you wanted it. I mean technically you did, but you didn’t really want it. I wonder, if I had never accepted that proposal, would you still be with Sera? Would any of this happened?”

The wind filled in for Gojo’s silence.

“My selfishness blinded me. I so badly wanted to be loved that I ignored any sign of resistance. Even when you told me that I would never compare to her, I wanted you to change for me. How pretentious. Had I just given up, then maybe you wouldn’t have thought that you loved me. When you couldn’t vanquish my loneliness, I searched for it in Toji. I abused his friendship just so that I wouldn’t be alone. When I figured out the real reason you married me, the reason you bought that house, the betrayal. That almost killed me Gojo. Imagine that. Even at my lowest I couldn’t stop seeking attention. I put myself over you, as usual. I lied and kept you from your child. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. It was okay that you didn’t love me. As long as you loved our child. But no selfish Y/N strikes again. Then, even though I knew I wasn’t ready, I still accepted when Toji proposed. I’m a monster. Just a year ago, I almost lost it. I was becoming unrecognizable Gojo. I couldn’t look at you and Akemi without getting angry. How was it fair, that I had to go through months of humiliation, which in hindsight, I did deserve, just for her to get the perfect boyfriend. I cried for months before you even held me. The first time we had sex, I had to beg you to kiss me. I hated her and I hated you. But that’s not your fault. Nor is it her’s. It’s mine. If I wasn’t so selfish and I didn’t think you loved me then none of this would have happened. I ruined so many lives because I couldn’t see past myself. If I didn’t use people to fill this abyss I have in my heart, I wouldn’t have caused you to almost commit suicide. I wouldn’t have taken Sera’s boyfriend from her. I wouldn’t have wasted Toji’s time. I wouldn’t have hurt your mom. None of this would have happened. I should have stayed in that hospital room. I should have asked them to bury me with her.”

You were crying now. Your hands shaky as they gripped tighter. You were curling in on yourself, wanting to disappear. 

“If I hadn’t been so awful, Sachiro wouldn’t have seen me cry so much.”

Gojo’s heart broke. All those lies. All those insults. You believed them. No. No you weren’t selfish. You were the opposite. You always put other above yourself, even if it hurt you. Of course, you’ve committed your share of sins, but never maliciously. You were too trusting, too eager to please. And to think he didn’t love you? That nearly shattered him. He may have moved on, but the love he had for you was real. Even though he may have forgotten how to love you: even though he may have abused you: even though he didn’t deserve to love you, he has never stopped loving you since you were young. 

He reached out a hand to soothe your back as you hiccupped through your gentle tears. You had a special charm that made everything you did look beautiful. But he paused seeing how stunning you were despite the tears on your face. He almost kissed you. But he didn’t. Not because he held himself back, but because he saw your eyes. 

As you stared into the ocean, your eyes changed from their vulnerable and kind state to a detached, disconnected gaze. Almost like you were hypnotized by the sea. The waves calling you. It was the same gaze he had when he was suicidal. 

“After seeing you at the store, I realized that I needed to atone for my sins. I needed to seek forgiveness. That night was actually the night I realized I needed to commit suicide. Not to ease my own pain, no that’s a selfish reason. I wanted to commit suicide so that everyone’s bad thoughts, everyone’s problems, and every bad thing I did could die with me. If everyone took turns spitting on my grave, I wouldn’t mind. As long as I was no longer causing problems, it would have been worth it. I spent the whole night making a new stuffed animal for him. I cut myself a lot by accident, but I didn’t mind. That was going to be his last gift. My existence is a mistake. Me dying would be a gift to the world.”

“And?”

“And I clearly decided not to. I owe my life to Sachiro. As long as he needs me, I will live for him. I want to die, Gojo. I want to give everyone the life they had before they met me. I want everyone to be happy again. But I can’t. Because I have my little star. I’m evil Gojo. I’m a black hole. I pull people in, only to destroy them. I’m afraid one day I might do that to him too.”

You turned to look at him, tears streaming down your face. 

“It kills me to know that one day I’ll hurt him too. But he loves me so much. He fills the void in my heart. I’m not lonely when I’m with him and I know its selfish, but the way he looks at me... The way he looks at me almost makes me think I’m a good person.”

Gojo continued staring at you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Hearing you talk about yourself this way hurt him immensely. It almost felt like he was drowning. No, you didn’t get better. None of your problems were solved. You just learned to live with them. 

You leaned close to Gojo. The honesty in your eyes almost scared him. “Gojo, if you ever notice that Sachiro is suffering being with me, I need you to tell me. The second I start poisoning him, I’ll kill myself.”

The conviction behind your words paralyzed him. You two sat there for a minute. He didn’t know what to say. He knew what this felt like. He knew the exact emotions you were drowning in. But he couldn’t help but think that you were a lot worse. You have begun to hate your entire existence. You had no one. The amount of self-hate you had was shocking. 

After a couple minutes of silence, you wiped your tears away. Standing up you offered your hand to him. 

Looking at you now, it felt like he was in an alternate dimension. One where he confessed when he was younger. One where he never met Sera. One when he got on a knee and properly proposed. And he almost believed it. Just as he reached to grab your hand, he finally noticed how his phone was ringing. Looking down he saw Akemi’s number. He looked at you apologetically. You smiled kindly and continued to offer your hand. As his bigger hand enveloped yours, he imagined pulling you in close and kissing you in the sunset. Just like the romance novels you loved. As soon as he stood up, though, you released his hand. Walking past him you headed back to you house. 

You were giving him privacy. He was at crossroads; stay here and answer the phone or chase after you. All those times he didn’t. Maybe he should this time. No. He’s going to get married. He’s made his choice. And like usual, he didn’t chase after you. 

He spent some time with Akemi on the phone. He explained the entire situation to her. He omitted everything you told him, though. That was for him only. He calmed her down and promised he would be home by the end of the night.

Walking back to your house, he smelled the pasta you used to love so much. You only ever cooked it for him once. He saw you humming as you stirred the pasta with the sauce. 

“Y/N, I’m going to head out now. Akemi is worried. You should call your family too. They’re probably worried too.”

You turned to him. You looked like a picture-perfect housewife with the apron you had on. You hummed in agreement. 

“They already know, but thank you for the suggestion. It was nice seeing you. Would you like some food to take for the trip?”

He should say no. There’s no way to explain leaving work to spend the whole day with your ex-wife to your fiancé. Much less if he brought food with him. 

“Sure.”

You packed it into some cute tupperware. It had little duckies on the lids. He just realized how much you changed financially as well. Besides the large house, one would never assume you came from wealth. There was very little name brand stuff. A lot of the decorations were local. 

Noticing his curious gaze as you handed the Tupperware to him, you giggled.

“If we see each other again, feel free to ask any questions. We’ve both changed a lot. I hope next time you talk a bit more. I kinda hogged the whole conversation today huh?”

You walked him to the door and waved him goodbye. 

He spent the next two hours just re-living that time. Already he missed being in your house. He could already imagine you, him, and Sachiro painting outside or going to the local city for festivals. Despite all the heartbreaking things you told him, all the awful things you thought of yourself, you managed to make a sanctuary. It was always in your nature to find the silver lining in every circumstance. You obviously needed a therapist. But a selfish part of him was glad that he was your confidante. As far as he was concerned, only he knew of how you felt, where you lived, why you did what you did. It was like you were still his.

As soon as he recognized these thoughts, he pulled over. There is no way he can think like that. No that would be unfair to Akemi. He’s already hurt you so much. He pushed you to the point of trauma. He changed you. Even now, the scars of hos he treated you were present. Everything you thought was because he had told you it at one point. No. He couldn’t do all that to Akemi either. 

Grabbing the cute Tupperware with the pasta, he almost threw it out. 

Instead, he took a second to look at it. It was two big ducks and little baby one. You had used a ribbon to tie some utensils on the top. Everything your hands made had some care and love imbued into it. Opening it, he aggressively ate it all. It was delicious, as expected. While he ate, he started crying. Why? Why did seeing you like that hurt him so much? Why did he use Akemi’s name instead of calling her his fiancé? Why didn’t he hold you as you cried? Why do you use his last name? Why?

He drove home that night. He kissed Akemi before she could even greet him. She immediately melted into the kiss, even if she was still peeved at being ghosted the whole day. He playfully pleaded for her to forgive him. He smiled. He laughed. But for some reason her couldn’t look her in the eyes like he used to. A part of him wished it was you he was holding. 

He went to Sachiro’s room. It was messier than usual. He noticed a bunch of crocheted toys he had never seen before. I guess that’s what was in the box. He reached his son, and he stopped to stare at him. Sachiro was holding two things as he slept. The bunny, per usual, but also a note. In big letters Gojo could make out Momma’s Ready! Sachiro was still learning to read, so you hadn’t written much. Still, just seeing those two letters had excited Sachiro so much that he slept with it. On his little tummy laid the phone. Close to dead, Gojo picked it up to charge it. There he saw that Sachiro had been listening to a video you recorded of yourself singing to him. Oh right. Since you had spent the whole evening with Gojo, you couldn’t call Sachiro. 

For a reason Gojo couldn’t explain, he sent the video to his own phone. He plugged the phone in and walked out of the room. 

Akemi had already headed to their own room. Before Gojo could, he had to organize some stuff.

“Hello, I know its late. I’m just letting you know not to pick up Sachiro tomorrow. I’ll handle the drop off.”

Gojo had to see you. Just for answers. He just wanted you to explain yourself. That’s all

At least that’s what he told himself. But when he slept that night, he dreamt of living in that house with you. He dreamt of cooking breakfast for Sachiro and you. He dreamt of a world where you were his. 

[walkingstackofbooks]

For the ficlet prompt. What do you think their first lunch was like after the Dominion camp?

Julian is reeling from the ramifications of the changling that took his place, which everyone liked better. And maybe he's disappointed in Garak especially for not recognizing the imposter.

But also he learned the truth about Tain and watched Garak see his father die (and WHY did Garak do that??) and Julian probably wants to comfort his friend / situationship.

Garak meanwhile is reliving all the lunches that were actually the changling over the past few months. And his dad died and Julian SAW it (because he wanted Julian there). And he's worried about Julian who just got back from prison and probably has PTSD. And also why didn't he recognize the changling is he losing his edge as a spy?

And neither of them can say anything directly at lunch. So is it awkward? Are they both just so relieved to have the other there that it isn't awkward?

Do they talk about some book that acts as a perfect metaphor for what one (or maybe both) of them are going through??

Thanks to some assiduous Garak trickery over Halloween, I've finally got there! Thank you for your patience! (I know I never promised prompts would end up fulfilled, but still - half of this has been sitting in my drafts since July!)

I'm afraid this is not a happy fic, but I hope it answers a couple of your questions nonetheless! Thank you for the prompt - it was super interesting to think about!

--

The sound of the door chime startled him, and something dropped to the floor as he realised that his mind had drifted off again. It was now 12:38, which meant that he'd been out of it for some twenty-seven minutes - not the longest stretch by any means, but long enough. He looked down at the duster that had landed on his foot; apparently, he'd been cleaning? A glance around the quarters confirmed it: everything looked just that little bit neater, the books on the shelf were in a different order, and the sofa no longer bore the evidence that he had been sleeping on that instead of the bed.

Julian shivered. He had meant to tidy up, rearrange some things - but the purpose had been to make the quarters feel decidedly his again, and this... this didn't.

The door chimed again, and he hurried to shout 'Enter', knowing how easy it had been to concern his friends these past few days.

For some reason, it had not crossed his mind that it might be Garak to come through the door, armed with his usual pleasant smile. Maybe Julain had got too used to all the worried looks his other friends had been shooting him, but he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or apprehensive about the Cardassian's appearance. Everyone else had been understanding, at least, about the weird ways his trauma had been making itself known since he had got back – even if he had been embarrassed to have them see him like that, surely reinforcing how inferior the real Julian Bashir was to the pretend one. But Garak, well... who knew how he'd react?

"I see you weren't expecting me, Doctor," Garak said.

"Not exactly," responded Julian. "What are you doing here in—"

He hesitated, voice stuttering to a halt over the word "my quarters". It still didn't feel right. "What are you doing here?" he finished weakly instead.

"Well, I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten about our scheduled discussion," said Garak. "Although, of course, if you have other things to do…"

"No," broke in Julian, some part of him reaching out keenly for this time with Garak, no matter his anxieties. "No, I'm not doing anything. Please stay, Garak."

The Cardassian raised his eyebrows. "Stay, Doctor? But the replimat—"

Julian shook his head, looking away. "Unless it makes you uncomfortable..." he said, remembering too late that having conversation with Garak also meant eating lunch with Garak, and realising that he might trip over that very first hurdle. "I'm not, um— Food still isn't..."

He cringed at his own incoherence; he wasn't exactly making a convincing impression of a good lunch companion.

"I'm still adjusting to eating regular meals, and so the replicator here has been programmed to better accommodate my current needs."

And now he was sounding like a medical robot. Great job, Julian.

"I understand," said Garak. "Your recovery will be swift, I hope? But for now, there's little I would enjoy more than to accept your invitation. Where should I sit?"

"Oh, anywhere," replied Julian, gesturing at the sofas, grateful now for his unconscious burst of housekeeping. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked, just as much to put off answering Garak's first question as out of habitual politeness.

Garak replied that some rokassa juice would suit him well, thank you very much, and so Julian busied himself at the replicator, taking as much time as was believable over the task. He was rather out-of-practise at figuring out Elim Garak.

The trouble wasn't that Garak never meant what he said; most people didn't. But from most people, Julian would have assumed a question about his health was a simple pleasantry, and would have told them what they wanted to hear: yes, he was recovering well, and hoped to be totally back on his feet soon. With Garak, you had to listen out for what he didn't say, to know his meaning. 

Your recovery will be swift, I hope? It was barely even a question. And that meant Garak could be asking it simply because it was the normal thing to do (and maybe Julian really shouldn’t be obsessing so much over it). On the other hand, however, he could be showing great concern towards Julian, but because this was Garak, masking that he felt anything at all behind the banality. Or maybe he was even trying to indicate that he had just as little patience for sharing discussion without having lunch as he did for having lunch without any discussion, and he was only staying because he felt obliged to. Julian had noticed how Garak had said that there was “little” more he would enjoy, implying that there were other things he’d rather be doing...

Damn it all. Usually, Julian enjoyed running all the possibilities through his mind, relishing in the challenge of trying to give Garak the answer he wanted, but right now it already felt like there was too much in his brain, and Garak had barely even entered the room! Julian was certain that his mind had been quicker than this a month ago, that there hadn’t been this constant fog which he now had to wade through to get to the end of any thought, that his anxiety had been neither this loud, nor this overwhelming. 

The glass was in his hands, and he was handing it over to Garak; his feet had carried him back to the sofas without waiting for him to direct them. Julian sat down, mildly disturbed. The dissociation was nothing new, it had been following him since solitary – hence his earlier acceptance of the newly-clean room, rather than outright panic – but usually it had confined itself to times when he had been alone. He hoped this was just a blip, and not a development that was going to stay. 

“How have you been?” he asked. His fingers had started to tap against his leg, and he pulled his hands sharply together, clasping them tightly. Maybe he ought to have made himself a drink, too, just to give his hands something to hold.

“I am better, certainly, than the last time we talked,” Garak replied. “And you?”

Following Garak’s lead, Julian gave an equally non-committal reply. “I’ve been worse,” he shrugged.

“You’re still experiencing… difficulties, though?”

“Is it so obvious?” Julian chuckled, wincing and praying that it really was just the obvious that Garak had spotted.

“Well for one thing,” Garak started, “—and do forgive me for pointing this out, I feel a little rude… but I do not believe that this is Rokassa juice.”

“I—”

For a few seconds, Julian felt as though his brain had come to a complete halt. He sat there, staring at Garak stupidly, before leaning across the coffee table to reach out for Garak’s glass. Now he was thinking about it, he realised that Rokassa juice usually came in a mug.

And this, unmistakably, was tea. Tarkalean, not Cardassian.

“Heh, must have been on autopilot,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “I’m terribly sorry, Garak – let me get you another—”

“Allow me, my dear,” interrupted Garak, smoothly rising from the sofa and leaving Julian to wonder how on Earth he’d failed to notice the mix-up himself. He supposed that he really must be more behind on sleep than he’d thought.

The fact that Garak had seemed to return almost instantly added to that theory. Julian hadn’t even heard the beep of the replicator, and startled when Garak suddenly appeared by the sofas once more, mug in hand.

“Don’t worry, I’m just tired,” he said, in answer to Garak’s quizzical look. “I haven’t been sleeping much lately.”

He hadn’t meant for that to slip out, and hoped that his earlier supposition was true: that Garak was just being polite, and wasn’t really checking up on him. Julian didn’t need yet another friend inquiring about his nightmares.

He had no such luck, of course. Garak almost seemed to pounce on this opening.

“It is my understanding that humans recover best only when they are getting sufficient rest,” he said. “Indeed, I seem to remember several occasions upon which you, my dear, lamented your patients’ inability to follow the simple instruction of “Get some sleep”.”

Julian groaned, leaning back into the sofa, twisting the glass of rapidly-cooling tea in his hands. “It’s not that simple.”

“Do you expect it to be?”

The question brought Julian up short, grating in its sharp lack of sympathy.

“I—Not really, I suppose? Not after what we went through.”

The ‘we’ slipped out without thought, an unwitting lie despite its truth. But it was easier, somehow, to claim the shared ghastliness of the final few days. ‘I’ sounded dreadfully lonely.

An unfamiliar expression stole across Garak’s face, and Julian wished he could tell what the Cardassian was thinking. Whatever it was, it seemed that Garak had lost control of the conversation too, the both of them reaching out for something to say, and returning with nothing – nothing they could admit to, anyway.

“Did you read any books while I was away?” he asked, before he had to contend with any awkward silence.

“None that were worth discussing,” Garak replied dismissively, leaving Julian wracking his brains for what he’d recommended that was so objectionable – before the unpleasant realisation swept over him that anything Garak had read, he would have discussed with the changeling. His stomach curdled, and he took a quick mouthful of his tea to try and swallow down the bile rising in the back of his throat.

“Can I—Do you—?" He was just saying words now, hoping that he’d stumble upon a suitable question and coming up laughably blank.

His stomach came to the rescue, interrupting his stilted thoughts with a growl. A rather loud growl, in fact, which had him wondering if he’d actually eaten breakfast that morning.

“I should eat,” he said, standing up and trying for a smile. “Thank you, Garak – this has been… nice—”

A frown drifted across Garak's face. “Are you we not sharing lunch, Doctor?”, he asked, his eyes flicking to the clock. Julian followed his gaze, and was startled to realise less than ten minutes had passed since Garak had entered. Oh.

But eating was difficult enough without the shadow of the changeling’s lunches looming fresh in Julian’s mind.  “I can’t,” he replied. “I’m sorry, Garak, it’s just, I can’t—.” He broke off.

I can’t eat with you.

Why would Garak even want to stay for longer anyway? Surely he could see that there was no scintillating conversation to be found in these quarters today?

Unless Julian had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even realised what Garak had really come looking for.

“Garak…” he started hesitantly. “About Tain—”

“I’ll leave you to your lunch, Doctor,” Garak interrupted, speaking over Julian as though he hadn’t said a word. “I hope you have a pleasant meal.”

The Cardassian stood up, first putting his mug away in the replicator, and then crossing the room to the door. For once, Julian could see straight through him, the way that Garak was trying to disguise the fact that he was all but bolting from the room.

“At least I know I’m not okay!” he found himself shouting over the sound of the door’s opening swish.

Garak turned to look at him. “Is that a fact?” he asked – and then he was gone.

Julian sat down, aching in a way he could not name. His stomach hurt, and the quarters were not his, and he was once more alone.

[andros-paidophonoio]

My other controversial trait is I don't care for but I also don't hate Lore Olympus lmfao. I think it's frustrating to me for various reasons but all of them are completely different from the main reasons I see people hate it and I rarely see MY complaints and critiques come up which is pretty funny. Not that some critiques don't have merit, but a lot especially I remember from several years ago were ur run of the mill "sexualizing fetishizing & the young women r being led astray" from the same people also being nostalgic about their effervescent Twilight phases and problematic cartoon husbandos and it's like, let's be fucking real

I understand the being concerned about it giving the Wrong Impression of the mythological characters etc but it's just visually and stylistically SO different and distinct and basically looks and comes across like Teenybopper Inside Out. I feel like thinking it represents anything realistic to the irl material feels a little idk.....losing chess to a dog-ish. Losing chess to an archie comic. Personally I get more concerned about adapations that have an appearance and sheen of being "accurate" or educational and serious while peddling more misinformation XD So that in mind, most of my evaluation of the story is a bit separate from that aspect, which has already been discussed and analyzed a lot–i generally try to evaluate based on the internal world that a story creates and how it comes across to ME.

More of my thoughts (playing defense AND personal haterisms)

I personally find the main Fantasy of the comic to be extremely vanilla LMAO and Fine...its basically "what if I was a super hot and pretty girl but ALSO sort of underdog-ish but ALSO I had sexy older BF who was kind and listens to me and wants to worship the ground inwalk on and we have cute little fluffy conversations and dates and ALSO I'm super sexy and evil and powerful but ALSO Good and Innocent and Blameless--" it's kind of an incoherent mess, but it's trying to appeal to a variety of fantasies all at once, and I think the desires that are expressed are pretty basic ones lol. I know there's also the rumor (?) of the Hades basically being authors self insert Mads Mikkelsen au crush or whatever which ppl made fun of but like genuinely What is Wrong With That. It's a bit silly but how is that problematic or my business.

I actually liked Perse's character and parts of her arc, I think the strongest parts of the comic was parts like the gentle romance portions where characters got to "be themselves" and just hang out in more slice of life style stuff (before it weirdly delved into therapist talking). There are some really great expressions of emotion and nervousness around sex and desire and shame. And the fantasy of having an understanding person to be a friend and talk to and open up to and speak in a respectful way was pretty sweet, and a lot MORE gentle than tbh a lot of Edgy Romance where theove interest is just Mean and Insulting for a while. So while I find aspects of maybe the characters getting flat, I found that personally kind of more positive in terms of "lessons and takeaways." So it's funny to me when ppl talk about the comic as The Most Evil Fetishizing Ever when so much of it honestly feels sanded down to Niceness lmfao. I also weirdly found that it felt at times very sexually or sensually restrained–like I get it's for more younger audience, but the kind of coy dancing around stuff at times (I wonder from webtoon meddling) felt weirder than maybe being more open about it. In a weird way, the rape scene from earlier on in the story felt more explored in how it had an impact than later parts. I wonder if that's because it was before it became so popular and also started getting more attention and criticisms that then seem to have subsumed into the work in weird ways.

I guess it's overall, in the end, one of those stories that is very much speaking to the modern age and the modern (straight ig) young women; where the OG Story and hymn was about grief of losing child to a marriage out of ur control (and includes the comfort of other mothers or matriarchs), I feel this (clumsily) speaks to a kind of different struggle. Aka the issue of wanting to express and enjoy sexuality freely but being faced with the prospect of interpersonal sexual violence, or people seeking to control said sexuality either out of protection or their own gain, the idea that you become seen as "evil" once u express ur sexual desires or become "tainted" by association with a man in a way that isn't a Socially Sanctioned way. It's clumsy, but it's real, and a lot of stories I see in this subject are grappling with this a lot. Esp for an era where many women do have a lot more freedom to pursue and find partners by choice than in ancient times, but the journey to that kind of happiness can be held up by such adverse experiences and subsequent emotional states/expectations.

I think my problem with a lot of romantic stuff, including this, that wants to balance these twin fantasies–one of being Very Powerful and Dangerous, but also of being Blameless and Good, are often kind of at odds and can result in some pretty Bad Storytelling that often ends up kind of trying to backtrack and do apologism for the Bad Actions in a way that just feels weak And noncommittal (if ur gonna be evil girl BE EVIL), and also kind of gets weird because The Protagonist, and the Couple(tm) must Always Be Good, and this cannot always be the case!!! In fact, it can make characters end up looking worse lol. Solomon's Crown does this too and that I am offended by for the same reasons!!!

Anyways, I haven't finished the whole comic, although I found a lot of the later arcs very intriguing although it took too fucking long to get to it because of the other problems that irritated me which consist of the following in no particular order:

THE VERY UNFUNNY HUMOR. I hated the jokes so much. I feel this is a problem with a lot of serials where they try to stay topical but boy I do not give a shit. That and when characters started speaking more like therapists, it brings the Drama to a screeching halt. And we are supposed to be HERE for drama!!! This is the main reason it always takes me so long to read like there will be an interesting serious scene and then the jokes will be so bad and deflating the impact. Sad!

Minthe. Treatment of her character left a bad taste in my mouth; last I left off I kind of liked more time spent on her, but in general i just felt really weird about the role her character played

Generally disinterested in all the other characters aside from the main couple. Perse is really fun and I feel there's the most "real" experience poured into her mixed with fantasy.

The opening episodes are indeed extremely off-putting to me so I don't blame people for not getting into it bc it starts off with some bro-y behavior that is corny. And it never quite feels "established" in its setting which is an issue to me with a lot of webtoons but for here especially it feels very like I said earlier like Teenybopper Inside Out. These characters are fantastical concepts, but only at times do they feel real as People

Anyways it's one of those things where I can genuinely see the charm in it--i can see exactly why it blew up how it did, but also like most webtoon it invites the most simplified types of comments ever where every single character has to be Good or Bad and if anyone does anything complex everyone throws a riot. So I don't doubt that the environment in which the story was produced affected the way that it is formatted and created. In this sense it's an interesting work to consider culturally and sociplogically. I think it is part of the greater conversation of why such works connect to people for greater or ill at all. Still, the Bad Jokes will keep me from probably having the true knowledge and I definitely will continue going my own way

(I do have a few AU concepts tho I'd like to think about sometimes....infeel like some aspects of the story I think a transmasc perse is interesting to think about, especially the whole weird definitions of the "fertility goddess" and "pure maiden" aspect, and the desire for LO!Apollo to want them to embody kind of an Ideal Wifepartner to gain power and prestige...more disturbing but also interesting implications and stakes to think about. canon LO I see seems to be about moving from maiden to the fertility goddess aspect but what if there were other identity avenues to be explored? Also I was thinking that a lot of the LO haters I get it we don't like cringe heteros that's fair but I know a lot of y'all r reading BL that use the EXACT SAME TROPES but even more corny and it's like.....sometimes humans crave corniness I get it. It would be too many layers of gender for the original to even be considering lmfao but since a lot of the story is about finding the Self and also facing resistance for it, I don't think it would be unthinkable....the fantasy worldbuilding going on is like ??? But sometimes it produces some stuff I think more deeply about)

[r-i-fakier]

The editor was sitting on the floor, his laptop on his lap, fingers running down the keyboard. The day felt slightly colder than usual, even though that was a big deal for the editor, due to his severe frostbite, he didn't care. As he wandered through forums and other social places, looking for something interesting to do or someone who was looking for a new editor, he comes across a social media page. "Tumblr?" He mumbles out to himself, he looked at the page for some time, before finally clicking on the sign in button. Who knows, maybe he could find some new friends.

//RP Blog introduction!!//

//More info under the cut. Check before interacting.//

Hi guys! I am Lem, the person who runs this roleplay blog. This blog is part of the bursonaverse thing created by @emeraldsandpearlsxx, and is made just for fun.

This blog is "partnered up" with @coldarg , who is another argbur blog that's also part of the bursonaverse, our blogs might eventually interact.

My main blog is @ghostlem, I am a 15 years old Chilean. (fun fact I'm also an argbur fictionkin)

This is a "Canon-divergent" roleplay (canon-divergent means that it follows the Canon pre-established, but also adds some changes, or at least that's what I understand from the word).

When I'm talking OOC (out of character) I will write with // on both sides in a specific way.

//Example text.//

Asks and written stuff that contain NSFW insinuations will be seen and answered, as long as they don't contain visual stuff such as NSWF pictures or videos or isn't too explicit.

I created myself a system for asks, since I get confused if I should answer it on the "blog" or as if it was an interaction outside it. When sending asks to Jubilee's Blog please put something like "[{user}/anon sent and ask!]", when is an interaction outside of the blog, please put "(interaction outside blog.)" If you have any questions about this please feel free to dm me!

This blog might contain stuff that can trigger some people, they will be tagged properly, but please keep it in mind.

(with headcanons I mean the important data you should know about argbur before interacting with him and his blog, I'm just trying to make this intro thing look good)

☆-Argbur's name is currently unknown, as he doesn't like sharing too personal info about him.

☆-He uses He/Him pronouns.

☆-He uses this blog as a personal space, sometimes he might post stuff that could be seen as "incoherent".

☆-The glasses will be a current thing happening in this blog, it won't be explicit most of the time, but pay attention in the way he writes the posts.

☆-He's a video editor, sometimes he will post videos he has edited, but something might feel odd about them.

☆-He doesn't use tone tags (he doesn't even know what that is), because of this, the tone he writes in might be misinterpreted as mean.

☆-You can always interact with him, he'll be just a little weirded out about the social interaction since he's not exactly used to it (he's just weird over all /hj)

☆-He is Chilean, but doesn't speak Spanish often, and when he does, the Chilean accent is very noticeable, as well and the fact he speaks way too fast.

☆-He's so cold.

When he posts about stuff that happens in his life, it will go with the tag #An Editor's Life

When he posts a video he has edited, it will go with the tag #New Edited Video

When he answers a question, it will go with the tag #Editor Ask

All his posts will be tagged with #Argbur's Roleplay

Ooc posts (out of character) will have the tags #ooc post and #tda chatchat (which is shared with my main blog)

Posts where he speaks Spanish will be tagged with #Chilean Editor

I might add more tags, depending on what happens.

[mischief-lies-and-stories]

Loki Episode 5 Incoherent Thoughts

Spoilers for Loki episode 5. And also my fic, Scattered to the Wind, because holy shit.

My stomach hurts, guys

I've been texting my best friend about this upcoming episode all day. I'd say I was getting progressively more unhinged, but I definitely started out unhinged and fluctuated from there.

Oh my GOD the title is making me feel better already

Oh god never mind I'm scared again after the recap and the haunting intro music

FUCK THAT ONE TEAR ON LOKI'S FACE

SHIT WAIT DID HE TIME SLIP I BET HE TIME SLIPPED

NO HE WENT TO THE PIE ROOM ;.;

FUCK YES HE DID TIME SLIP

OH MONKEY FUCK

THE TIME SLIPS ARE SHORTER

OH MY GOD I'VE FOR SURE HAD A NIGHTMARE LIKE THIS WHERE EVERYTHING TURNS TO SPAGHETTI THAT'S HORRIFYING

NO NOT THE CLOCK TICKING

EVERYTHING'S GONNA BE IN CAPS THIS EP ISN'T IT

I'LL TELL YOU, THE SAME THING HAPPENED IN EP 5 OF LAST SEASON. I TOOK NOTES ALL IN CAPS TOO

YES CASEY'S IN JAIL I WAS FUCKING RIGHT PLEASE BE ALCATRAZ sorry spoilers for Scattered to the Wind

OH MY GOD WHO WAS RIGHT ABOUT FUCKING ALL OF THIS

WAS THAT A BOAT

I WAS FUCKING RIGHT I WAS FUCKING RIGHT I WAS FUCKING RIGHT

FUCK NOW PEOPLE ARE GONNA READ IT AND BE ALL "UM ACTUALLY IT WAS 1962 NOT 1935" AND IM GONNA BE ALL "UM ACTUALLY I FUCKING CALLED THIS ENTIRE THING SO STOW IT"

GUT US LIKE FISH

LOKI

OKAY I GOT THE NAME WRONG BUT LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE

YES MOBIUS GIMME

NO LAME FUCK OFF MARVEL

SIX YEARS OFF FOR B-15 I SWEAR TO GOD IF HER NAME IS ANN I'LL LOSE IT

WRONG PLACE BUT I UNDERSTAND. ACCENT, AND I PUT HER IN LONDON BECAUSE EVERYONE ELSE WAS IN AMERICA

UGH SHE'S SO GOOD AND SHE'S A PEDIATRICIAN I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THAT TOO

BUT SHE'S IN NEW YORK IN 2012 WHAT MONTH IS IT BECAUSE SHE MIGHT KNOW LOKI

MOBIUS YES HOLY SHIT

DON FUCKING DON DO NOT GIVE ME YOUR LAST NAME PLEASE I MEAN I SHIP THORKI SO FANONICALLY I'LL BE FINE WITH IT BUT LIKE EVEN MARVEL WOULDN'T DO THAT RIGHT

NO NOT THE CHILDREN PLEASE LET THAT BE THE FICTIONAL PART

YES MIDWEST BUT WRONG STATE AND WAY WRONG YEAR [I! HAVE! THEORIES! THOUGH!]

MOBIUS HONEY SELL THE MAN A DIRT BIKE MORE JET SKIS FOR YOU

I'M CRYING ABOUT THE COMPARISON BETWEEN LOKI AND THE INFLATABLE GUY OH MY GOD THAT WAS PERFECT

That face was not good enough

Okay the slow walk and stare was perfect though

Wait I just remembered I screenshotted a bingo card for this episode specifically wait I'm gonna be a ball of anxiety and procrastinate and see if I got any squares yet I'll play it in a sec.

God Don is doing to Loki what Mobius did to OB in episode 1. Mo it's okay to tell someone you don't recognize them when they recognize you. It makes the interaction afterward way less awkward and a lot easier.

Fuck what's wrong with your son why doesn't he talk to his mom/dad/parent FUCK I HOPE HIS MOM DIDN'T JUST DIE THAT WOULD BE SO SHITTY

THAT LYING BITCH

THAT ASSHOLE IN THE LOKIUS TAG AFTER EPISODE ONE WHAT A LYING BITCH [No I have a thought though, and I'm sure someone else has had it by now.]

MOBIUS TALK TO YOUR KIDS HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD

WAIT

IF IT'S BILLY AND TOMMY I'LL FUCKING SCREAM

NO LOKI

OH MY GOD WAS I RIGHT ABOUT EVERYONE

RIGHT STATE WRONG TIME IF HE'S A PROFESSOR I'LL SHIT MYSELF

OH BABY MY DARLING

I LIKE THIS BETTER

AWW

SOMEHOW I LOVE HIM MORE

THE POSIT ITS. OB!!!!

IS THAT THE LOOM

THE LINES FROM THE TRAILER

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

IF SYLVIE'S IN BROXTON AND HAS FORGOTTEN SHE CAN DO MAGIC I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO DO

I SWEAR TO GOD YOU GUYS I DIDN'T WATCH THIS EPISODE UNTIL NOW WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING

THIS IS SO WEIRD I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO

OH MY GOD IT'S NOT THE LOOM IT'S HIS WORKSHOP

HE'S STAYING SO LONG

OH MY GOD IS HIS REAL WHY GONNA BE BECAUSE HE LOVES MOBIUS? I'LL DIE

YES OB I WROTE THIS WE JUST TAKE BRAD OUT OF THE EQUATION AND I'M OKAY WITH THAT

SO I WAS GONNA SAY IRISH BOYS, KEVIN AND SEAN, BUT

BUT SEAN JUST ASKED FOR A DOG AND A SNAKE

THIS MAN IS AN ODIN VARIANT THE KIDS ARE LOKI AND THOR I DON'T LIKE THIS I DON'T LIKE IT HERE I WANT TO LEAVE

Baby Loki would have absolutely played with matches he stole

Baby Thor loves snakes

Take me back to before I was afraid of who Mobius was gonna be when I thought he was Theo and that was the end of it. Take me back even to when I thought he might be Loki but he was married so we might've actually gotten a Sigyn variant. Take me back to when I thought he might be Sigyn and his wife the Loki variant. Hell, take me back to an hour ago when I thought I was just gonna ship another version of thorki. This is a terrible theory.

Loki my god you are terrible at talking to your amnesiac love interest

MOBIUS I THOUGHT YOU SAID ON THE MARKET FOR A SECOND AND I FREAKED

MOBIUS OH MY GOD STOP TRYING TO SELL PEOPLE JET SKIS AND THOSE ARE YOURS

HE REMEMBERS WORD FOR WORD WHAT MOBIUS SAID

YOU GUYS I HAD TO LOOK THAT UP FOR THE FIC TO GET IT RIGHT AND HE RECITES IT WORD FOR FUCKING WORD OFF THE CUFF

AND THAT'S WHEN I STARTED CRYING

LOKI GIVE HIM HIS MEMORIES BEFORE HE CALLS THE COPS I HATE THIS

IT'S OKAY OB YOU'RE GONNA MEET CASEY SOON HOLY SHIT THOUGH I'D CALL 18 MONTHS FAST AND HOW DID YOU FIND HIM

THAT'S WHAT HE SAID TO SYLVIE

LOKI GIVE HIM HIS MEMORIES HE HAS CHILDREN WHO DON'T HAVE A MOM

You can MOVE the time doors??

LOKI GIVE HIM HIS MEMORIES

ALSO WHERE THE FUCK IS SYLVIE

SPACE NAME

OH MY GOD THERE SHE IS, IN BROXTON JUST LIKE I SAID

OKAY THANK GOD

OH MY GOD THERE'S BRAD

YES HE SAID IT HE WANTS HIS FRIENDS BACK HE HAS FRIENDS HE'S NEVER HAD FRIENDS AND NOW HE DOES I'M NOT CRYING I WASN'T CRYING TWO HOURS AGO WHEN I WAS SHOUTING HE HAS FRIENDS NOW IN MY CAR I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE

I'M FUCKING BAWLING WHO AM I KIDDING

SYLVIE IT'S OKAY FOR HIM TO WANT FRIENDS IT'S OKAY FOR HIM TO HAVE FRIENDS THAT'S NOT SELFISH THAT'S BEING A PERSON

CASEY SHUT UP AND JUST FLIRT WITH HIM

LOKI NO DARLING

DUDE YOU SAID THAT LIKE YOU'RE SELLING HER DRUGS

SYLVIE

YEAH WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN GIRL

CASEY

OB NO

MOBIUS, B-15

SYLVIE

I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY DID THE FUCKING BLIP AGAIN

TIME LOOP FUCK THIS

FUCK NO FUCK THIS

NO NO

OH HE MEANT HIM OH THANK GOD I THOUGHT HE WAS ABOUT TO GO ALL SYLKI ON ME

LOKIIIIIIIIIIIII YESSSSSSSSSS <3

[mariacallous]

I was grabbing a drink with an old friend when it happened. I told her I was excited about an upcoming reporting trip to Vancouver, to interview Naomi Klein. My friend wrinkled her nose, as if the bartender had just farted. Then she asked why I’d give my time to someone who thought the Covid-19 pandemic was a conspiracy.

I sighed. Turns out, she’d been thinking of Naomi Wolf.

You know Naomi Klein, right? Rabble-rousing leftist journalist and climate activist? Author of Gen X touchstone No Logo and the mega-influential The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism? Decidedly not the former liberal feminist writer turned far-out Covid truther Naomi Wolf? But just because they share a first name—and, I suppose, are both telegenic Jewish public intellectuals who found fame through polemical writing—people confuse the two Naomis constantly. Klein gets mixed up with Wolf so much, in fact, a Twitter mnemonic was born: “If the Naomi be Klein you’re doing just fine / If the Naomi be Wolf, oh, buddy. Ooooof.”

Thus the basis of Klein’s new book, Doppelganger. Writing hundreds of pages based on the Twitter discourse surrounding your evil twin is, of course, a deeply questionable choice. Klein openly admits that her family and friends questioned her sanity. As she is quick to point out, though, Doppelganger is not really about Wolf. Instead, the book uses the experience as an entry point to dissect the “intellectual and ideological mayhem” of the Covid era. How wellness entrepreneurs demonize medicine. How the far right appropriates and warps leftist talking points. How parents insist on seeing their children as reflections of themselves. In all this, Klein writes, there’s a new doubling going on—weird fun house distortions of what used to be more straightforward realities. It’s a lively, slightly unwieldy, wholly vital work. It could only be hers.

Klein moved to the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia during the pandemic, a riotously beautiful nook of that vast province, where towns are nestled into fjords. It’s a place far more likely to be visited by orcas than members of the US media, and in the interest of saving me a journey on a ferry—you can only get to her home by boat or floatplane—Klein met me at her office at the University of British Columbia, where she codirects the Centre for Climate Justice. We’d intended to stroll around the sprawling, sunny campus, but the conversation kept such an intense clip, we ended up simply sitting for hours.

Kate Knibbs: Doppelganger is much more personal than your previous work. Why?

Naomi Klein: I thought it was really important not to be on the outside of this story, but to be inside, to fess up to my own disorientation. Having a doppelganger who a lot of people confuse me with is a type of losing oneself, and it provided a toehold into this larger and more interesting set of feelings, of being lost in a world we might not recognize.

You listened to conspiratorial podcasts for research, including Steve Bannon’s. Were you ever worried you’d get lost in those worlds?

I felt that way the first time I went to a climate change denial conference. I was a tiny bit worried I would start to doubt my own understanding of the science by listening to them. But the exact opposite happened, because it was so completely incoherent. One guy says it’s getting cooler. Another says it’s getting hotter—but the sunspots! Another guy says everyone should just get air-conditioning. That’s what it’s like listening to Bannon or any of those “intellectual dark web” types. You can see it right now with RFK Jr. He’s saying Covid was a bioweapon. This is also the guy who told people not to wear masks, not to lock down, not to get vaccinated. So which is it? Occasionally Bannon would have someone on who would claim that people were just dropping dead from the vaccine.

Like the whole #DiedSuddenly thing?

Exactly. What you start to realize is that these people are acting as if we were immortal before Covid. As if no one died from anything. What worries me more isn’t that I’m going to start thinking that the vaccines are killing us or anything like that. It’s that I understand why the things he’s doing are so resonant.

Why are they so resonant?

This is Bannon’s gift, sorry to say, and it’s how Trump won in 2016: by identifying a bloc of Democratic voters who had been screwed over by the party because they lost jobs to corporate free trade deals. So the offer was a counterfeit version of the left, which is what right-wing populism does. They were not rewriting trade deals in any significant way that would help workers. They were offering huge gifts to the already wealthy through tax cuts. But when people are desperate enough, they’ll go for a counterfeit.

I have someone close to me who has definitely bought into that counterfeit populism. It’s been hard to watch the change take place.

I’ve had so many conversations with people describing that feeling. It’s like watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

But I suppose we all have many competing, constantly mutating versions of ourselves. How do you think about your public persona now?

When we think about performing ourselves, we think about social media. For me, that’s Twitter [since renamed X]. And right now I don’t think any of us feel in control of whatever the fuck is happening on Twitter. But we’re still there, hoping to recapture something. I hope my relationship to my public persona is like my relationship with Twitter. I’m not really trying anymore.

Do you think there’s a way for you to have a conversation like this that’s truly authentic, or are you in some sense creating a doppelganger version of yourself to promote the book?

There’s always going to be some contradictions involved in hawking a book when you’re an anti-capitalist author. I’ve been living with that contradiction for a long time. I find talking to people exciting. I have ideas that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. I had the idea to write No Logo while I was doing an interview with a student journalist.

Are your students influential in other ways?

One of the really nice things about being on campuses right now is that, if I was just getting my sense of youth culture through media, I’d think that all young people are constantly posing and performing themselves on Instagram. But it’s definitely a minority. A lot of young people feel alienated from it.

I get a lot of youth culture tidbits from my babysitter, which is how I know that super polished and posed Instagram photos are seen as a geriatric millennial thing.

They want it to look really authentic, to be messy.

I reread No Logo recently. It holds up.

Maybe not the Blockbuster references!

Honestly, we need to bring back your concept of selling out. I got in a lot of trouble on Twitter a few months ago for saying the Barbie movie looked bad. I love Greta Gerwig, but I don’t want to like Barbie! I hate the idea of a Mattel Cinematic Universe.

The thing that’s so clever is that it’s shiny and pretty enough to get the normie Barbie fans, but it also has so-called subversive content for the people who don’t want to like Barbie. It’s genius marketing. But the world is fraying. It’s an odd time for us to get excited about pink plastic.

Probably an odd time for me to be really annoyed about it, too.

No, I think it’s time to have some standards again.

Do you ever think about returning to that mode of criticism?

Just to keep you company?

To keep me company, and because efforts to turn cinema and television into capital-B Brands—the Marvel Cinematic Universe, most infamously—are so much more flagrant than before.

And also to keep us in our childhoods in a strange way. This is not kid content, it’s adult content, but it’s feeding on nostalgia for being 8 years old.

What’s a recent movie you liked?

Despite the critics hating it, I thought Don’t Look Up was brilliant. It was taking aim at the culture of narcissism and distraction at this most critical moment. It was broad, like all of Adam McKay’s comedies. But that was not the problem. The problem was that it was right.

Doesn’t everyone die at the end?

That’s the best part. He fucked with the Judeo-Christian trope that the righteous will be saved.

I do think it was broad.

Well, Anchorman is broad!

True. But I don’t necessarily want my comedy to be didactic. I just really don’t want it to be branded content from Mattel. There’s this amazing Canadian filmmaker, Sarah Polley, and she’s doing a live-action Bambi.

My grandpa worked on the original Bambi. He was an animator.

I read about this. Didn’t he get fired for trying to unionize?

He did. And they had the first strike at Disney during the production of Dumbo.

Have you been paying attention to the strike wave happening?

It’s exciting. I’m really glad that there’s the focus on AI.

What else interests you politically, right now?

I think it’s important to think about where the Covid denialism energy is going now that there aren’t vaccine mandates. It’s morphing, going in new directions, and it’s important to try and follow that.

Which new directions?

There are two main wellsprings the Covid denialism movement drew from. One was the anti-vax people. The other group was climate deniers. Now, when you post anything about climate change, you’ll get hit with “Davos elites, Great Reset.”

When we were talking earlier about how people take leftist ideas and make counterfeit versions of them, I was thinking about how that happened to the shock doctrine—your idea that global elites use disasters to push brutal policies to benefit themselves at the expense of the masses. People co-opted the concept to talk about the Great Reset, saying there was a global conspiracy to use Covid to strip away personal freedoms. Has this changed your relationship to your own ideas? Do you feel less ownership over them?

I’ve never felt I had that much control over my ideas in the culture. I remember Arundhati Roy saying to me many years ago, we can’t control what our words do once we release them. I have tried to correct the record and do my own writing about what I think the shock doctrine is and isn’t, but I think I’ve always felt a bit of detachment around it.

Jane Fonda started her Fire Drill Fridays because of you.

That was just getting somebody at the right moment of receptivity. That’s what Jane did. I take no credit.

Do you believe in the horseshoe theory? Are the people on the far left swinging far right because they’re attracted to conspiratorial thinking about Covid?

There are some people who have decided that Tucker Carlson is a great guy and Trump’s better than Biden. But most of those people I wouldn’t consider very left-wing. Someone like Glenn Greenwald. For a while, he seemed to be a left-wing person because he was against the Patriot Act and the Iraq War. But he was a libertarian upset about Bush-era government overreach. So it makes sense, when a government has to robustly respond to a pandemic, that a lot of those people got upset. I know some of these people—Matt Taibbi and Glenn Greenwald—I know that they are not deep left thinkers. We have to make the distinction.

Do you think there’s an incentive to shift rightward now to bolster one’s personal brand online?

Yes.

Could there be a positive incentive the other way? Is it possible to build up an ecosystem of independent leftist outlets?

Remember that idea? We need to invest in media, and not be reliant on quixotic billionaires to find one another. I think we need to get serious about independent alternative media and local media.

Meaning, like, a new Twitter?

The problem with something like Mastodon or the smaller Twitter competitors is that they’re not able to offer what Twitter did at its best, which was this feeling of we’re all having one conversation together.

I don’t know if there will ever be one main conversation again.

I wish Twitter could’ve been turned into a co-op. This is labor we’ve put into this thing. We all wrote for free!

A lot.

There was always something self-exploiting about that. Sure, we were able to share our articles and do self-promotion, but I always knew they were going to try to charge us. It’s too valuable.

There’s a co-op movement for media startups, where the writers own their outlets, but I haven’t seen the same thing happen for social media.

And the thing happening now with AI—it was one thing for all of us to be writing for free for Zuckerberg and Musk, but now it turns out that all of that content is being used to create doppelgangers of us by AI companies. Now that’s going to be used to put people out of work, or cheapen their labor.

It’s accelerating so rapidly. Big outlets are already putting out AI-generated articles.

This relates back to conspiracies and why they’re spreading as quickly as they are. It’s a dangerous time to give people more reasons not to believe what’s in front of them. Anything you’re shown now can be dismissed as fake news. “It’s not even Biden, it’s AI.” We’re barely glimpsing the ramifications.

In Doppelganger, you wrote about a South Korean politician who used AI to look younger.

The thing about the Korean example is, it was not hidden. Everyone knew. And it worked for him. So who knows? As our candidates get older, they may rely on AI doppelgangers. It’s being packaged as a way to reach younger voters, because they prefer synthetic reality.

Have you had discussions with your students about AI? Do they actually prefer synthetic reality? 

Last semester, ChatGPT was really everywhere, and we were discussing how they were not using it to write their essays. I think we’ve overfocused on the plagiarism piece of things. It’s just one element within a completely unstable and frightening future. Maybe it’s helpful writing essays, but they also know it’s replacing entire sectors they may have been preparing for—between not being able to afford living in the city to the acceleration of the climate crisis to AI changing the job market.

I’m aware of at least one podcasting company hoping to use AI to translate podcasts into a bunch of different languages. It sounds cool, but then you think: What about translators?

The thing I find disingenuous is when you hear, oh, we’re going to have so much leisure time, the AI will do the grunt work. What world are you living in? That’s not what happens. Fewer people will get hired. And I don’t think this is a fight between humans and machines; that’s bad framing. It’s a fight between conglomerates that have been poisoning our information ecology and mining our data. We thought it was just about tracking us to sell us things, to better train their algorithms to recommend music. It turns out we’re creating a whole doppelganger world.

We’ve provided just enough raw material.

When Shoshana Zuboff wrote The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, it was more about convincing people who’d never had a sense that they had a right to privacy—because they’d grown up with the all-seeing eye of social media—that they did have a right to privacy. Now it’s not just that, even though privacy is important. It’s about whether anything we create is going to be weaponized against us and used to replace us—a phrase that unfortunately has different connotations right now.

Take it back! The right stole “shock doctrine,” you can nab “replace us” for the AI age.

These companies knew that our data was valuable, but I don’t even think they knew exactly what they were going to do with it beyond sell it to advertisers or other third parties. We’re through the first phase now, though. Our data is being used to train the machines.

Fodder for a Doppelganger sequel.

And about what it means for our ability to think new thoughts. The idea that everything is a remix, a mimicry—it relates to what you were talking about, the various Marvel and Mattel universes. The extent to which our culture is already formulaic and mechanistic is the extent to which it’s replaceable by AI. The more predictable we are, the easier it is to mimic. I find something unbearably sad about the idea that culture is becoming a hall of mirrors, where all we see is our own reflections back.

You reached out to Naomi Wolf and she didn’t respond. If she had responded, would you want to debate her?

I think it’s important to engage with what’s being said and marshal counterfacts. But the idea of just sneering at people is dangerous. I think we do need to debate, but whether that means creating some kind of theatrical Naomi vs. Naomi spectacle—I don’t know about that.

You could be second billing to Musk vs. Zuckerberg.

Anyway, as you know from reading the book, it’s not really about her. She’s just a case study. I follow her down the rabbit hole. But I’m more interested in the rabbit hole.

[galaxae]

if youre still doing the ocverse ask game, 3 and 19? 🥺

ougghhh i so totally still am. i'm mainly fixated on my stupid ass video game idea (working title is gods don't bleed but i want to change it bc it doesn't fit as well anymore)

forgive me if this is incoherent, my boyfriend dislocated his knee so i have to care for him, and work has been terrible and burned me out, so i'm definitely leaving some stuff out of my answers :(, but whatever!!

3.) any recurring images/elements?

absolutely yes. lots of imagery of plants and animals, for one. fire vs. ice too, yes i know it's a very commonly used trope but i like playing around with those two things, especially when i get to kinda subvert expectations with them. similarly with light vs. dark. and also colors vs black and white, both in terms of morality and in terms of actual visuals

19.) describe the sillies you think about but that dont go in the story.

in my mind, charity and fabian (the first two playable characters, and close friends) are exes. it's probably not going to be canonized, but it's also not going to be explicitly denied, so...

their first date was incredibly awkward, by the way. fabian was an ignorant rich kid who loved to pry and stick his nose in others' business and not let up until he knew everything about a situation, while charity was freshly in the "my mom and i were homeless, got taken in by a man, and then that man turned out to be very very bad so we had to flee the state and come to this small piece of shit town where no one realizes how privileged they are, and this all sucks, and i don't want to talk about it" mindset. they were also both 14-15 which is the worst age to be. they broke up so fast after this but now they've got a really solid friendship going a few years later, and charity has a different (cooler) partner

also, so many silly bits of dialogue that... i'm not sure they'll go into the game at all, or if they do, whether they'll just be optional bits. but some favorites include (formatted sorta like they would be in my script document):

KIMBERLY: Oh, hey, Fabián, you're in French 2 with me next semester. JAMAL: Wh... what? People actually take French? I thought that was a myth. FABIÁN: Well, I already know Spanish since everyone on my mom's side and, like, half of my dad's side speaks it. So I thought taking Spanish would be way too easy. CHARITY: You stupid son of a bitch. That's exactly why you should take Spanish.

ACE: Holy shit, I just got stung by a bee! FABIÁN: Are you ok??? Ace pulls the stinger out of their face ACE: LOOK! It's still pumping venom! That's so cool! CHARITY: What the fuck is wrong with you? ACE: What's wrong with you? Lookit!

JAMAL: Hey. Kimbie. KIMBERLY: Don't call me that, please. What is it? JAMAL: Spell ICUP. KIMBERLY: "ICUP?" JAMAL: Spell it. KIMBERLY: That's not a real word. Fake words don't have spellings. JAMAL: Can you at least try? KIMBERLY: Oh. Wait. I see. I-K-U-P. JAMAL: ... KIMBERLY: Does that suffice? Jamal looks as though he's about to cry. [Later that same day] JAMAL: Hey, uh, hey Kimbi-- Kimberly. Is it just me, or is your outfit kind of, uh, "updog?" KIMBERLY: What? JAMAL: Your outfit's kind of "updog." KIMBERLY: What does "updog" mean? JAMAL: ........Can you........... rephrase that, please? KIMBERLY: ? No. JAMAL: :/

also, there's a period of time when kimberly is in 9th grade where she gets really intensely into astrology. specifically so that she can Know A Lot About A Thing that other people don't know as much about. she'll see someone doing something, walk up to them and be like "what are you, an aries venus?" and when they don't understand the reference she'll be like "never mind :)" and feel smart. she no longer does this in the game because she realizes that's so cringe. and she has OTHER science to do, dammit!! (like proving the Weird Kid at school is a literal alien)

another fun fact: kimberly (resident genius) and jamal (who does not give a shit about academics) play chess together one time and jamal wins because kimberly is so perplexed by his newbie moves that she doesn't know how to respond to them.

oh... i didnt realize i had this many sillies... cool :)

yall are encouraged to send more asks if you want i love these blorbos

[limoneads]

who are your top three favorite game of thrones characters and why?

i spent wayyyy to much time thinking about my little dudes. this took me like four hours because i kept going back and deleting because i couldn't decide on them oops. i know it's taken me literally forever to answer this, but i've been thinkin thoughts in my car. and i'm going to go by book only characters from the first two in the series bc i like the way they're characterized a lot more and they're the ones i'm most familiar with. i also want you to know that i'm incredibly incoherent

jon snow. i know i'm basic for this one. i know i am. but he's the game of thrones version of an anime protagonist. i think that this is extremely funny- in one chapter, he crushes a frozen lemon with his fist and it's never elaborated on again (??? what was the reason for this??), he has a literal albino pet wolf who's name is ghost :) who he loves very much, he's fiercely protective over his friends and new brothers and also just, like, a good dude?? he just tries to stand up for what's right, and in a world where pretty much every character is just trying to get more political power, it's a refreshing choice. i'd also like to mention that he's fourteen at the start of the books, and he gets to be an all around edgy westerosi teen, but he's also just a good kid and i think that's so lovely of him. there's a line of him showing his cool new sword to his wolf and he goes something like "look it's you :)" bc his broskis made him a new pommel in the shape of a wolfs head!! absolute lovely moment. every so often, you're reminded he's just some kid. he loves his family so much and i'm sad that he only gets a few scenes with them at the beginning of the book. okay, by family i mean arya, but they're really cute. he's really close with his little (half) sister arya and messes up her hair a lot. he gives her a sword as a parting gift :) and they're kinda the closest sibling pair in the stark family because they look the most like their dad and are often the ones most at odd with catelyn, their mom (but not his mom biologically. his dad, at the end of a war, just brought back a baby and was like "this is my son" and she hasn't been able to love jon ONCE). you kinda get the feeling that she's the only one who never judged him for being a bastard while still understanding what it means. they're relationships is just cute. you also get really banger character moments that i still think about, like him getting drunk at the fantasy version of the thanksgiving kids table and then yelling and crying at his uncle that he's "never going to father a bastard". or when he threatened to kill some dude in his sleep with his giant pet wolf for being mean to the new guy, sam. i'll admit his chapters are a bit boring in the sense that it's not a lot of stuff that happens plotwise for like the first 40%ish, but i got excited every time it was his turn to get a pov bc it's mostly him with his bros in the nights watch, being a weird snarky emo boy and i- i love him sm. 

i debated heavily on wether it should be robb or catelyn stark. they're pretty conjoined in my mind though, so i just put them both in a giant paragraph. but i'm gonna start with cat because she's one of the most complex characters in the books to me. cat is kinda in her flop era for like the first ten percent of the first book. she's horrifically abusive to jon snow, the bastard son of her husband, because she views him both as a threat to *her* children and as a reminder of her relationships pitfalls with her husband. her motherhood and her grief are central to her as character themes, as well as her preoccupation with duty and honor. i'm now going to take this time to talk about my son, robb stark and the genetic eldest daughter syndrome they both have. cat grew up as lady of her house, her mother dying and leaving her to take up a maternal role in her household. she got betrothed to her husbands brother when she was twelve and never complained because she was trying to do what she thought she was supposed to do. "i always did my duty". something similar happens to her son when his father, cats husband, leaves with his two daughters to be an advisor to the king at the time. i think it's mentioned that, despite being the heir to winterfell, his family's giant castle, no one had ever seriously taught him about ruling a place like that?? which. okay. he's already thrust into taking up a paternal role to take care of his remaining siblings. he loses his mother for a time. when bran is in a coma, she shuts everyone out, focusing on taking care of her son. in doing so, she neglects to care for her two other children, robb and baby rickon. this leaves robb alone, now without his mother to guide him (he's also like 15 at this point) he's now ruling winterfell and acting as a father to his youngest sibling. she actually does leave when someone tries to kill bran with a dagger- seeking justice out for her son. the goes on a little journey (which is like most of her journey in the books but i'm glossing over it because it was kinda boring rip), and when she comes back she takes incredible psychic damage from seeing her son having grown up so fast. and i'm like, babes you're responsible for this. she always is so taken aback by how old he's starting to look. he grows a weird teen boy beard and she takes psychic damage. she's basically his biggest political advisor in his campaign as king in the north. maybe my thoughts aren't that complicated on that, but they both adhere so strictly to a code of honor and duty- it makes me mentally ill. and to know that it gets robb killed!!! they change this up in the show, and it isn't until the third book but knowing that robb betrayed his political alliance bc he made a mistake by sleeping with a girl and then marrying her the next morning bc it was the right thing to do and sticking by her?? the parallels with him and his dad... i feel like evaporated milk. 

howland reed. i can't really explain this one so much. never actually shows up in the books but has inexplicably strong dilf energy. one of like three good dads in the entire series. absolute unit on the basketball court. more fun in my head than cannon. if hbo ever does a roberts rebellion prequel i will have my ass parked in front of that tv screen so fast you won't even believe

and now i ask who your favorite three star trek characters are. thank for trying to teach me how to do the things on the tumblr :)

[spade-club]

Okay, I'm working through my issues here. Will probably be incoherent.

So, finding out that you've been in a friends with benefits situation for two months without knowing that that wasn't a budding relationship is, in fact, a weird place to be in.

I honestly dont know how much I can trust the information that they gave to me though because it came from one of their personalities (thats the only word I've heard them say so thats what I'm using here) who noticeably has not participated in... non-platonic relations. I am unsure as to what anyone else in their head thinks or would say. The issue here is that I am never truly aware of who I am speaking to when I am interacting with them. The only reason I know this about him is that he made it very clear that the sexual things were outside of his wheelhouse. And yet he is the only one I have talked to about what we are, so I'm inclined to listen to his perspective over anything else. It is the only perspective I know. I think I would benefit from having a conversation with someone who I have been close to in different ways, but I am unsure as to how I would ask for that. We kinda dance around talking about this disorder a lot of the time, and though we are both slowly opening up about it, I am still struggling to find a way to talk about it. Part of me wants to just flat out ask them to tell me everything they know about their personalities and how they interact with me, and also wants to ask that I be told who they are whenever they feel comfortable telling me. I feel as though knowing those things would make navigating this entire situation easier. I am just afraid of the idea of them turning any questions back on me and making me answer anything about myself on the spot. I also hate springing conversations on other people because I know how much I hate it. I think thats something I can and should get over though.

Post ramble game plan: I am going to tell them that I would like to hear more about how they function in general and also how that pertains to their interactions with me. I will explain that it would make it easier for me to understand where they are at and ensure I am less upset by certain things and also know how to best interact with them. I will explain to them that if ever I am to open up to them to an equal degree, it would likely be over text as talking about myself openly is difficult. I will also explain that I do want to be understood by them, I want to be open, and the only reason I haven't is because I am afraid of being judged for my own existence. I need a lot of reassurance, and I do not want to burden anyone by making them be nice to me for my own comfort, so I often do not. I can also better explain my view that things dont have to be defined one way. That in my eyes putting the label that we are " just friends" feels like an end-all and that it's okay to consider this multiple things. Being multiple things is the only thing either of us knows how to do, so it only makes sense that we allow ourselves to be friends and ambiguous lovers and possibly partners, all depending on the day. I also will be sure to reiterate that I love them and I value and respect their perspective no matter who they are in the moment because I know that all perspectives here do matter.

[nyc-pizza-rat]

https://www.tumblr.com/nyc-pizza-rat/770060253008150528?source=share

I feel that I don't want to just leave it in the tags. You went deeper than I thought about it 😀 Further. But it's interesting. As for that aro beam - you mean dean, right? I didn't know you see him like that. Doesn't it change the whole concept of destiel or the declaration? But of course their friendship is equally important as their love, I would even say that the friendship is an important part of their love. And if we talk about it in general: it was a discovery for me that through friendship you really can learn how to love another person, to be loved and accepted. Before that I was quite centered on romantic love and the thought that without a partner you're incomplete. Which is a toxic opinion actually.

yess!! i meant dean. to me, it really doesn't change anything bc I think I just add a flavour of aro-love to all my ships. with destiel specifically, it really is just that dean has someone he can love in cas, and he loves him so much, and that love defies definition to me. not in a let's not name this queer romantic love way but more in a this is queer love at its best,‌almost bc it does not adhere to any standard that you're laying down in a heteronormative world way, if that makes sense? like you said, friendship is part of their love. they are friends and they are brothers in arms, and they are lovers, and all of that is just. intense and beautiful! I don't quite understand romantic feelings tbh. i have trouble defining them. sometimes I'm just like. well what is unromantic about friendship actually. what is unromantic about wanting someone in your life and wanting to grow old with them. just bc you don't wanna fuck? that's not romantic? get outttt! allonormativity is a prison, labels are weird, and love is everywhere. this is my attitude these days lol.

soz if I'm a bit incoherent, I had 3 sips of coffee and I'm studying for finals and this is making me crazy

[mywhisperingwords]

drunken mouths | fred g. weasley

summary: after a drunken night, where you cannot remember much, but one thing. fred kissed you. and he will not acknowledge it. word count: 3.6k masterlist

“I messed up. I messed up big time,” you confessed to George, banging your head on the counter. You were relieved that no customers were around to witness your humiliating breakdown.

Though you couldn’t see his expression, you were sure George was ignoring your theatrics. At least he acknowledged your words. “What are you talking about?”

“Last night. I messed up to the point of no return—in a way that will haunt me and my bloodline for generations,” you said dramatically.

“A bit over-the-top, don’t you think?” George asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Oh no, trust me. It’s the most horrific thing to ever happen on this planet. I can never show my face again,” you mumbled, still pressing your face against the counter—which, you now noticed, desperately needed cleaning.

You’d deal with it later. Or maybe not. Maybe the ground would open up and swallow you whole, straight into the fiery pits of Shameland.

That’s all you were hoping for.

“Would you calm down and tell me what awful thing happened last night?”

You mumbled an incoherent response against the counter, which George clearly didn’t find satisfactory. He grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks together. “What?”

Now forced to look him in the eyes, you felt like you were staring directly at your mistake. Maybe that’s why you blurted out, “Fred and I kissed.”

“So?” George laughed, releasing your face.

“So? What do you mean ‘so’?” you said, exasperated. You couldn’t believe his casualness regarding what was, objectively, the biggest moment of your life.

“I mean, isn’t that exactly what you wanted?” he said, grinning smugly.

You stared at him until your eyes started to ache.

“Stop looking at me like that. You’re the one who’s had a massive crush on him for ages,” George pointed out.

“I feel like you don’t understand the gravity of the situation. We were both drunk last night—you were too, if you care to remember—and then we kissed,” you explained, your arms flailing as though that would drive the point home.

George just stared at you, expression blank.

“What if he doesn’t remember? Or worse—what if he does? And he regrets it? Oh, he totally regrets it, because I’m just his friend, and kissing your friend is weird. He’s probably disgusted by me. He’ll fire me, and then I won’t be able to afford rent, and I’ll end up living on the street, and—”

“Okay, okay, breathe,” George interrupted, holding his hands up as though calming a feral creature.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, nodding at him to continue.

“First off, he’s not going to fire you. I wouldn’t let him, okay?” George reassured you.

You nodded again.

“Second, if he doesn’t remember, then you’ve got nothing to stress about. You can both go back to pretending everything’s normal. But,” he added, stepping closer, “I highly doubt he doesn’t remember. He didn’t drink as much as you did, from what I recall.”

Your stomach churned at the thought.

“Now, let’s say he does remember and he rejects you—hold on!” He grabbed your shoulders before you could bang your head on the counter again. “He’s not going to be a twit about it. You’ll survive. Just pretend like it doesn’t bother you, alright? But,” he said, pausing dramatically, “if he remembers and liked it, then congratulations. Your happily-ever-after might actually happen.”

His logic calmed you down—for the moment, at least. Maybe you were freaking out over nothing.

“Now stop scaring away our customers,” George said with a smirk. “If you keep this up, Fred will have legitimate reason to fire you, and there’ll be nothing I can do about it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. But deep down, you still dreaded the moment Fred would walk through that door and meet your gaze. He’d be able to read your feelings as easily as ever.

Standing around waiting wouldn’t help with your sweaty palms or racing heart, so you forced yourself to focus, starting with cleaning the counter.

When you heard rumbling upstairs, your chest tightened. It wouldn’t be long now. You tried to spot a hiding place, somewhere you could spend the rest of your life. The shelf with stink bugs felt fitting.

As if George could read your mind, he slung an arm around your shoulders, keeping you in place.

Footsteps echoed closer, and you froze as the doorknob turned. The door swung open, and there he was.

Fred walked into the shop, his gaze landing on you and George immediately. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place—before it disappeared.

“What are you two up to now?”

“Nothing. Just a bit of friendly conversation,” George said, tightening his grip on you.

“Uh-huh. It looks more like your conversationalist is plotting an escape,” Fred teased, his eyes never leaving yours.

“That’s not true, right?” George nudged you. “Tell him that’s not true.”

“That’s not true,” you managed to croak, your throat dry.

Fred kept looking at you, but it seemed like he couldn’t find what he was searching for.

“Right,” he said with a laugh, finally breaking eye contact. He walked closer, and for a moment, you thought he might actually bring it up.

But he didn’t.

“I’m getting breakfast. You two want anything?”

Your stomach dropped. It was worse than him regretting it.

He didn’t even remember.

&

The last few days had been nothing short of torture for you.

On the surface, everything seemed the same, but there was an unspoken shift that made it all feel slightly off.

Fred acted like his usual self—playful, charismatic, and carefree—except for those fleeting moments when you caught him staring at you, his gaze lingering on your mouth a beat too long.

And every time you noticed, he’d look away, as though nothing had changed, as though your world hadn’t been turned upside down overnight.

George had been right: you’d had a crush on Fred for as long as you could remember. Maybe it had started the moment you began working here, or maybe it went back even further, all the way to your school days.

How could it not?

Even back at Hogwarts, Fred had this magnetic pull—an irresistible energy that drew people to him. He made everyone laugh, commanded every room he walked into, and left you hanging on his every word.

But things had changed.

Somewhere along the line, your silly little infatuation had grown into something deeper, something far more complicated.

Not that you’d ever acted on it. The thought of confessing your feelings—and facing the possibility of rejection—had always kept you silent. Instead, you’d buried your emotions and focused on building a genuine friendship with him, one you deeply valued.

But now, that careful balance was gone. You could feel it tipping every time you were near him.

And yet, you had no idea how to address it.

Fred hadn’t said a single word about the kiss—or even about the party where it happened. And that only made you more suspicious.

He loved to reminisce about a good time, especially if he’d been the one responsible for it. Fred called it “self-reflection.” George called it “gloating.”

But this time, there wasn’t so much as a passing comment. Not one word had slipped from his mouth about that night.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into the apartment was the noise.

It was deafening—laughter, shouting, and music blaring loud enough to rattle the walls.

The air was thick with smoke and the sharp tang of spilled alcohol. Everywhere you looked, there were people—too many people—but not the one you were looking for.

Judging by the lively chaos, the party had been going strong for hours. The liquor you’d dropped off just yesterday had clearly done its job, and you could only hope there was still some left for you.

You weaved through the crowd, dodging swaying bodies and dodging elbows, your senses overwhelmed by the sights and sounds. Friends and old schoolmates pulled you into quick exchanges as you passed, each moment slowing your progress toward the kitchen.

A trip that should’ve taken a minute stretched into twenty.

When you finally made it, you were surprised to find Fred there, leaning casually against the counter, looking far more sober than expected.

Two drinks rested in his hands, but his focus was entirely on you. He greeted you with a familiar grin, the kind that made your heart skip.

“Kind of you to finally arrive,” he shouted over the music, handing you one of the drinks as you came closer.

“You know me—I wouldn’t miss a legendary Weasley party for the world,” you teased, winking as you raised the glass to your lips.

The drink burned as it hit your tongue, but the sweet aftertaste chased away the sting.

“Are you trying to get me drunk tonight, Weasley?” you asked, narrowing your eyes in mock suspicion.

Fred just grinned wider, raising his own cup before taking a slow sip.

Before you could press him further, George appeared out of nowhere, dragging Fred away with some urgent nonsense you couldn’t quite catch.

Left on your own, you got pulled into conversations with familiar faces, your attention shifting from one person to the next. Yet, no matter where you wandered or who you spoke to, you couldn’t stop your eyes from seeking him out.

And every time you found him, Fred seemed to sense it. Even if he was mid-conversation with some pretty girl, he’d glance up as though pulled by an invisible thread, meeting your gaze across the room.

The memory dissolved as Fred entered the small backroom where you were currently trying—and failing—to untangle the chaos of both the shelves and your thoughts.

He froze the moment he noticed you, his expression flickering with something unreadable before settling into what you could only describe as caught off guard.

Confused, you opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, but before you could get a word out, he snatched a seemingly random box off a shelf. He gave you a fleeting smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes—before all but bolting from the room.

You stood there, staring after him, utterly baffled.

That had to be the most bizarre interaction you’d had with Fred in the last few days—and considering how strange he’d been acting, that was saying something.

Up until now, he’d been doing a remarkably good job pretending nothing had changed. He’d still joke with you and George like always, his laughter just as loud, his quips just as sharp. But you couldn’t ignore the subtle shifts, the cracks in the facade.

For one, he’d started avoiding you after hours. Before that night, Fred would usually hang back after closing, chatting about his latest prank ideas or the absurd customers of the day. Now, he was the first to leave—sometimes even before the shop was officially shut for the night.

And then there was the touch.

Fred had always been physically affectionate—a hand on your back, a teasing nudge, a quick hug that lingered just a second too long. But now? Nothing. No casual brushes, no reassuring pats, not even an accidental bump.

The absence was maddening.

Deep down, you knew the truth: Fred remembered. There was no other explanation for the way he acted now, as though he were tiptoeing around some invisible line.

Maybe George was right. Maybe you needed to be the one to address it.

The thought of confronting Fred filled you with dread, a sharp pang in your chest as you imagined how the conversation might go. He’d tell you the kiss was a mistake, something that should never have happened, something that would never happen again.

“We’re friends,” he’d say, his voice full of regret. “That’s all we’ve ever been.”

The idea alone was enough to break your heart, but a part of you suspected that you wouldn’t find peace until you heard the words from him directly.

Because at this point, the uncertainty was killing you.

“Having fun?” a familiar voice murmured in your ear, warm and low, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned to see Fred standing next to you, leaning casually against the wall around the corner of the shop. The sight of him made you grin, wide and unrestrained, like he was the only person in the world.

You’d stepped outside to escape the overwhelming crush of bodies in the flat. The party, with its swirling heat and dizzying noise, had been too much, and the cool night air felt like a balm.

The drink in your hand had long been replaced with a small glass of water, though the slight haze in your mind reminded you that the alcohol wasn’t entirely out of your system.

The muffled thrum of a distant upbeat song floated through the quiet street, illuminated by soft moonlight. Above, the sky was a perfect canvas of stars, so bright and clear it made the world seem infinite.

“I can’t complain,” you said, tilting your head back to gaze at the constellations. In that moment, you felt utterly weightless, carefree. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just Fred’s presence, but you realized everything you wanted in life was already within reach.

Well, almost everything.

“But you seem to be having an especially good night,” you teased, your voice betraying the faintest hint of strain. “You’ve been popular tonight, haven’t you?”

Fred didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t care. “They don’t mean a thing to me,” he said easily. “All that matters is that you’re happy.”

His words sent a warmth through you, soft and all-encompassing.

“I am,” you murmured, and in that moment, you almost believed it.

“Then my job here is done,” he said, his grin widening, though his gaze remained fixed on you.

“Done? Already?” you quipped, finally meeting his eyes. That’s when you noticed just how close he was.

The air between you seemed to hum with energy, the space narrowing with every passing second.

“I mean, if there’s something else I can do to make you happy,” he whispered, his voice playful but tinged with something deeper, “just say the word.”

The proximity made your heart race, every nerve alive with anticipation. His breath ghosted against your skin, sending goosebumps rippling across your arms.

“Is that so?” you asked softly, your voice barely more than a breath.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said, and this time, his tone was serious, the lightness in his voice gone.

“Anything?”

Your gaze fell to his lips, and suddenly, there was no room for hesitation.

“Anything,” he murmured, leaning even closer. “Is there something specific you have in mind?”

You felt the answer burning on your tongue, but you didn’t need to say it. He could already see it in your eyes.

He closed the remaining distance, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, searching kiss. When you didn’t pull away—when you kissed him back—his touch became more certain, more deliberate.

His hand found your waist, his fingers curling gently around you, pulling you closer. Your own hand slid into his hair, threading through the soft strands, and his sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through you.

His reaction was immediate: a soft bite to your bottom lip and a bold slide of his hand to cradle the back of your head, which made you—.

A sudden noise snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts.

The door banged against the wall as George stormed into the room, his frustration evident. “This has to stop!”

You frowned, scrunching up your face, and turned back to the parchment in front of you. The inventory—Fred’s job, not yours—was a mess of numbers that made no sense to you. But with Fred vanishing to Merlin-knows-where, someone had to do it.

Ignoring George, you pretended not to understand. Ignorance was bliss, right?

“Put the quill down,” he demanded, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard. “And listen to me. This whole situation is maddening! You’re both idiots. Just talk to each other, damn it!”

You flinched at his words because they hit too close to home.

Of course, George was right. He always was. But the thought of confronting Fred—of risking the fragile connection you still had—was unbearable. You couldn’t face the possibility of losing him entirely.

Still, you refused to respond, keeping your eyes fixed on the parchment in front of you. You couldn’t even decipher it anymore, the numbers blurring into incomprehensible shapes.

“Fine!” George barked. “But don’t come crying to me when this all falls apart.” His voice softened for a moment before he slammed the door behind him.

Alone again, you tried to refocus on your task, but his words lingered, gnawing at the edges of your resolve.

You didn’t have long to dwell, though. The next time you saw Fred, it was like George had predicted the future.

Fred stood near the counter, in what seemed like a deep conversation with someone. But as you moved closer, you realized she wasn’t a customer. The way she batted her lashes, leaning into his space, left no doubt she was flirting—and Fred? Fred was playing along.

Your stomach churned.

Her laugh, too loud and overdone, grated on your nerves. And Fred—charming, magnetic Fred—seemed to be reveling in it. It was too much.

You knew he would never hurt you intentionally, but watching this felt like a punch to the gut.

And the worst part? You had no right to be angry. Fred wasn’t yours.

But that didn’t mean you could stand there and watch.

Without a word, you stormed past them, your gaze catching Fred’s for just a split second. Whatever he saw in your expression made his own falter, and before you knew it, he was following you.

You didn’t stop until you reached the back office, desperate for the refuge of its familiar walls.

But Fred was right behind you.

You turned to face him, your arms crossed, waiting for him to speak. To explain. But he said nothing.

The silence between you stretched unbearably, pressing down until your chest ached.

“Say something,” you finally choked out, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.

Fred’s lips parted, but no words came. He looked at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t name, and it made the tears well up in your own.

When he still didn’t speak, you turned away, hiding the tears that spilled over and ran hot down your cheeks.

And Fred? Fred said nothing. Not when you bit back a sob, not when you brushed past him, not even when you walked out the door.

The next week, you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

You told George you were sick and stayed home, retreating to the sanctuary of your bed. But even there, Fred invaded your thoughts, your dreams.

It felt like grieving something you’d never truly had.

Eventually, though, you couldn’t hide forever. Forcing yourself out of bed, you returned to the shop.

George took one look at you and frowned. “You both look awful,” he muttered before pulling you into a warm hug.

His words confused you, but you didn’t ask. Instead, you threw yourself into pretending everything was fine.

Fred, however, was conspicuously absent.

By the time you locked up that night, you were convinced it was better this way—better to avoid him entirely. But fate had other plans.

As you turned the corner toward the back office, Fred appeared, coming down the stairs.

He looked as bad as you felt—his hair a disheveled mess, his clothes rumpled, his eyes hollow. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the shock in his gaze mirrored in your own.

“Where did you disappear to?” he asked, his voice rough, like he hadn’t used it in days.

“Oh, so you can talk to me,” you snapped, your anger bubbling to the surface.

Fred flinched, the pain on his face almost enough to extinguish your fury. Almost.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to the floor. “For everything.”

“Sorry for what, exactly?” you shot back, crossing your arms defensively. “For kissing me? For pretending it never happened?”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“What?” you interrupted, your voice trembling. “You didn’t mean to kiss me?”

“No! Not that,” he blurted, his head snapping up. “Never that. That’s the one thing I’d do over again, a thousand times if I could.”

Your breath caught. “So you remembered?”

Fred nodded, his eyes searching yours.

“Then why were you acting like you didn’t?”

He hesitated, then deflected. “You remembered too, didn’t you?”

Your heart stuttered. He was trying to shift the blame, but his question struck a nerve. You had remembered. And you’d stayed silent.

“Because I was scared,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Scared you’d tell me it was a mistake. That you regretted it.”

Fred took a step closer, his gaze softening. “I could never regret it,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Before you could respond, his hands cupped your face, his touch warm and grounding. Then his lips were on yours, urgent and unrelenting, stealing the air from your lungs.

And this time, there was no hesitation. No lingering fear clouding the moment, no doubt tethered to the excuse of alcohol in your veins.

It was just you and him, undeniable, finally finding the courage to want what had always been yours to have.

[thepoliticalvulcan]

Getting your facts straight

Its officially 2017 all over again. Except instead of Donald Trump, we're dealing with someone who is much more articulate and sophisticated in how he abuses facts and a lot more careful about how he lies. That person is Darryl Cooper, recent guest on the Tucker Carlson show.

Don't parrot headlines and stupid takes from the New York Times, your favorite influencer et al. You're doing a xerox of a xerox of a xerox and the result is incoherence. Cooper, especially the takes he advances on Twitter/X, is problematic but his project of re-contextualizing facts to muddy the waters is way more sophisticated than anything Tucker Carlson, Tim Pool, or other alt right fools can attempt.

This is one of those personalities where if you misquote him, rely on someone else's summaries of an interview, or otherwise fail to capture the context, you may inoculate people who are superficially averse to people who are labeled fascists and Nazi apologists in mainstream circles, but the people who are suspicious of the mainstream media and automatically intrigued by contrarian narratives will be more encouraged to take the bait and approach the primary sources with an open mind instead of healthy skepticism.

And this is high quality bait. A lot of left leaning people, myself included, listened to "Fear and Loathing in the New Jerusalem" and really only got the weird brain feel that something was off when Cooper started talking about Menachim Begin and the Betar movement. Not off factually, but rather the first hint something was off for me was the lengths that Cooper goes to in order to explain the psychological landscape of people who have experienced profound suffering and violence and then choose to adopt a default kill or be killed worldview. Which is itself valuable, I firmly believe that terrorists are often made not born and understanding their perspective to me is no different than having your mechanic try to diagnose a check engine light, but to my ear when there is an unmistakable tone of admiration, it raises an eyebrow.

Because that's the sneaky project here. Cooper's "non-racist fascism" is probably the best explanation for weird aspects of the international ultra nationalist movement. The weirdest aspect of it being its international character. The way that Hindutva and MAGA can be cozy friends, at least at the elite level. Cooper and "non-racist fascists" identify with cultural supremacists who want to be supreme within what they perceive as their sphere of rightful influence, whether those are their on paper legal borders or within feudal networks of satellite states like Putin.

This is a new (to many) face and name in a long story of alt-conservative intellectuals often making empirically correct observations about social conditions and historical events, but ensuring that the context in which these datapoints are placed in is one way that always favors the inevitability of cultural struggle for dominance and the inevitability of clashes of civilizations rather than a story about how time and again we have overcome suspicion, fear, and zero sum thinking to expand the limits of our imaginations as it pertains to who belongs in society, who counts as human when we speak of universal human rights, and what those rights are. Meanwhile its the reactionaries who guard the limits of culture too zealously who ensure their society ultimately stagnates and declines culturally and demographically because they make it impossible for people to thrive amidst suffocating conformity.

[l-yre]

probably a rant about gender/sex/relationships behind the cut read if u want or dont!

i am trying to parse out whether i can or should consider myself a "detransitioner". it's not helpful that most of the detrans people one can interact within online seem more interested in drawing extremely stark ideological lines in the sand than treating themselves and other gnc/trans people with dignity and complexity. i don't give a shit about pronouns. i'm happy to have gotten top surgery and been on T! but i think on some level i feel like a queer woman, or a butch dyke, or whatever, more than i used to; i'm not interested in being treated as a man or passing, which used to be a major concern for me when i was younger. but like. i am still totally enmeshed in a broader trans community, and it's not like any of these people are holding a gun to my head telling me if i don't get back on T i'll lose my membership card?? i feel galvanized by the other butches and lesbian-identified people on here who seem to share this understanding that the boundaries between these ~identities~ are extremely porous, not just now but historically. (it really feels sometimes like people just refer to stone butch blues as a type of meme without actually reading it)

ok, and in the midst of all of this fretting, it feels like all of my most important romantic relationships are totally crumbling. my partner of 8 years suddenly needs lots of space and finds it difficult to maintain contact with me; my partner of 4 years seems consistently upset at me for being an insane oogle and we simply haven't talked about it, my best friend of over a decade cut off all contact with me two years ago when i had to move out of our shared housing because i couldn't afford it, and the person i have been seeing for the past couple of years just skipped town and we're both really phone averse…

all of this would be fine were it not for the major crisis in identity (lol)

but even in trying to forge new romantic relationships and connections with people i feel so pathologically insecure about how i can even be seen as a desirable. my housemate who is also butch said something really smart the other morning about how we never get to be pursued and i have been thinking about it ever since. it feels like people are scared of emasculating me by putting out, so i'm constantly making moves on people and fielding rejection. it hurts!!!! i don't think i will ever find somebody who is actually attracted to me just the way i am, in my weird incoherent gender in my weird incoherent life. and i can read "kill the couple in your head" till my eyes glaze over and it doesn't make me want to experience that totalizing kind of desire any less.

ok that's all thanks for reading. if any one else can relate i would love to hear advice haha

[suburbanwildernessdeity]

Pardon me for speaking out of turn but I think some people need to understand that therapists can be bad at their jobs just like anyone else. I’ve seen a few posts lately that are like “western therapy culture is ruining women” or whatever and it’s like on one hand I see where you’re coming from? Because sometimes the worst person you know is like “my therapist told me I need to set boundaries and be true to myself so I have to tell you that I hate you because you’re so stupid.”

But on the other hand doesn’t that seem like a fucking stupid thing to say to a client? I think there’s this misguided perception that therapists are supposed to affirm you and help you feel good regardless of how it affects the people around you and I could say a lot about how that’s a result of new-age The Secret type bullshit infecting psychology because the extreme individualism of capitalism leaves no stone unturned but at the end of the day it’s like.

Once you build a relationship with your therapist, there HAS TO come a time where they push you. Therapy should be a safe space but not one that’s completely without risk. That’s why therapists go to school for so fucking long and that’s why therapy is different than just talking to your friends about your problems. There needs to be a combination of validating your perspectives and feelings and helping you face the hard truths that sometimes you are the problem and the solution isn’t to hate yourself or be ashamed but to figure out what happened and try to do better. Recovery and therapy literally do not happen without working on the ways you treat other people.

Unfortunately people have this really stubborn perception that therapy is only about making people feel good and all therapists do is tell you you’re right. First of all, it’s easy for clients to interpret “it’s important to validate your feelings and I understand why you feel that way” as “I’m agreeing that you were right and someone else was wrong.” It’s easy for clients to interpret “you need to hold boundaries with people” while talking about a toxic parent as “you shouldn’t have to compromise with anyone ever” because it’s easier to ignore the feedback and focus on the validation.

Second of all, people training to be therapists are not immune to societal misconceptions of what therapy is or does. The more people spread this misconception that all a therapist does is validate their clients, the more people think being a therapist is easy and all you have to do is tell someone they’re right and they shouldn’t feel bad. Also, the more people spread this misconception, the more people get away with being fucking shitty therapists. If people think that validation is all there is to therapy, they won’t realize that their therapist is incompetent and may be doing more harm than good.

Anyway I know this was an extremely poorly structured and incoherent post but the point is I get why some people might think that when the worst person you know says their therapist told them not to worry so much about being nice, that speaks to the quality of their therapist, not a trait of therapy in general. There are widespread misconceptions and harmful practices woven into therapy, sure, and it’s logistically SUPER difficult for most people to be able to choose a therapist who’s both good at their job AND the right fit for their treatment. It’s also super difficult for most people to tell when a therapist is doing a bad job. I get that. But thinking that “therapy culture” (which I don’t even really believe is a thing? But that’s another post) is “ruining society” or whatever is a weird direction to take things in. It’s like hearing about a pill mill doctor and saying “medicine culture is ruining society.” Yes it’s indicative of some systemic flaws but no it doesn’t mean the field of medicine is ruining society and frankly that’s an extremely weird thing to say

[arechickensreal]

✿ Cove Holden headcanons !! ✿

(still in love with this little guy!! I decided to make a post specifically for headcanons for Cove cuz i have a lot!! I cry over this little ocean boy a lot, and thats ok. anyways, enjoy the hcs)

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He doesn’t really like going to a barber or salon to get his hair cut. He think its kinda awkward and isn’t really fond of the idea of some stranger touching his hair.

So he probably cuts it himself or gets one of his parents to do it (tbh if he knows you know how to, he would probably trust you to cut his hair too)

His dad or his mom used to cut it until he just kinda started doing it on his own.

He probably started cutting it himself after he moved to sunset bird and was still a little upset with his dad

The two of you made each other friendship bracelets and wore them until you couldn’t anymore

Derek also got a friendship bracelet at some point when he became part of the friend group

His favourite ghibli movie is ponyo (for obvious reasons)

Likes both, but prefers dogs over cats a little more

He likes medium/bigger dogs a little more since they don’t bark as much as smaller dogs do, but he doesn’t hate small dogs or anything

But he is still a LITTLE intimidated by the little dogs that bark and growl a lot lmao.

Cove’s not super picky or big on music, and mainly just listens to what's on the radio or whatever someone else puts on, but I can see him liking the same types of music as his parents (i talked abt my hcs for cliff & kyra’s music tastes in my post abt them)

I feel like he would like softer music and lofi and stuff.

I can picture him listening to mxmtoon and khai dreams.

If he knows about the types of music that you like, he would try and listen to them too.

He also tries to learn more about your interests and stuff he can talk to you about them or at least have a better understanding of what you’re talking about

He’s actually pretty decent at singing, but he doesn’t really sing much.

He does like to quietly sing or hum to himself if he’s just doing stuff in his room tho

After the first time you two sleep in the same bed together, he starts hugging in his pillow in his sleep when ur not there (he may or may not sometimes imagine its you when he misses you)

If he’s not holding onto or grounded (is that the right word lmao?) by something, he’ll move and shift in his sleep a lot.

He doesn’t really talk in his sleep, but he sort of quietly, incoherently mumbles to himself.

You can’t really make out a full sentence, or proper words out of it most of the time, but occasionally you can make out something that sort of sounds like your name.

He likes stuff like diffusers and scented candles because he likes the smell. He doesn’t really go out of his way to buy and use them or anything since he doesn’t really know much about them, but he likes/appreciates it if you or other people do.

He isn't the biggest fan of the ones that smell overly sweet/strong tho.

On that note, he has a really good sense of smell. Like, he can pick up on things that literally nobody else can.

He likes to talk to his fish about things (he also loves to tell them about you)

Honestly he just loves talking about you in general

I think he likes it when you say his name (not in a weird way lol)

Like you’ll say his name if you’re just talking to him, and internally hes just like

“Yes !! That’s me !! :D”

I think he also wants/wanted you to be there when he gets his tattoo/piercings. For emotional support. (if you choose the cove that has either of those)

But yeah

Also if you were down for it he would also like the idea of getting matching tattoos

Probably something beach related or white poppies or something along those lines (tbh I kinda do wanna get a poppy tattoo irl one day lmao)

Anyways thats all the ones i'm gonna post for now

Might make a second part idk yet

Hope you enjoyed my ramblings about my favourite fictional neighbour <33

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