#That “we are numbers to them” is an almost direct quote from my mother

[boopjuice]

I can't speak to the alternatives offered here, but I can speak to not joining the U.S. military from the perspective of a military brat.

I watched as my mother put her work above my siblings, me, and probably my dad too, hoping that if she just worked a little harder, a little longer, she could get that next promotion, she could move up and not have to work as hard and spend more time with us. I was there, watching but not allowed to interact with her as she went through DLI and tech school. I was there when she was deploying for six months at a time. I was there when she came home, devastated because her boss decided that she wasn't dedicated enough to make senior after giving over 20 years of her life to the military.

I was maybe eight when she sat down and told me that the military didn't care about our family. That we were just numbers on a list to someone thousands of miles away that would never see our faces or know our names. And she still left again and again. Some of the time the choice was out of her hands. Sometimes it wasn't.

I don't remember the house I was born in. I was told that my mom got orders to a different state, but my dad didn't, despite them being married by that time. My dad had to leave the military in order to take care of me and stay with my mom.

The second memory I have of my mom is a pre-recorded message of her telling me she has to be gone a little longer. I was barely two years old. She was crying.

I was six when my mom started DLI. She had a spot in the house dedicated to her. It was her desk and her computer, and she would spend any time not cooking, eating, or sleeping studying at that desk. I wasn't allowed to bother her, talk to her, make too much noise.

I was seven the first time I remember having a mental breakdown. Dad got mad about something, definitely feeling the stress of having two kids as a stay-at-home, homeschooling parent, and he took it out on me. Yelled, screamed, terrified me. Mom wasn't there to see it. I don't think Dad thought much of it. Mom wasn't to be bothered. She had to study.

I was nine when I promised myself that I wouldn't make friends at my next home because I knew I would have to leave them behind eventually. I tried as hard as I could to avoid it, and I did a good job. I still have trouble making friends today.

I was ten when my mom started deploying regularly. It started as one or two months as a time. Then three. Then five or six. Her down time started getting smaller, once with only two months between her deployments. Sometimes she'd get back from a deployment only to go TDY a couple weeks later. Dad had to work and I was in public school for the second time in my life. We got a nanny, and when I said that she could come over for movie night like Mom I didn't understand why Dad was so upset.

I was eleven, at most, when I had to become the second parent. Set up breakfast, change the baby, do your chores, help get the two children in the car, watch them for a while while Dad goes to do something, keep them entertained at the bank once a month so we can pay our rent, etc. Mom was still deploying, and when she wasn't deploying she was flying every other day. Six hour flights. Twelve. More. Two or three times a week, she'd have to drug herself in the early afternoon so she could get up early in the morning to fly. It was around that time I started to really understand that she might not come home one day.

I was thirteen when I found out she could choose some of her deployments. She chose to leave for a long one a few months after the Twins were born. She would miss their first birthday. She knew it. She cried on my shoulder for the first time when I found out. I couldn't feel angry until later. I had to take care of the Twins. Get them up, dressed, fed, in the car for the day's activities, I had to get my own schoolwork done too, once we got home. I was there the first time my brother had a seizure. The second time, too. She wasn't.

By the time we got to my most recent home, my ninth, I didn't know my mom. I knew her name, her face, her voice. I knew I missed her, I was always missing her, even when she was a room away. I knew I was angry at her, once she got back. She abandoned the parent role, left it to me to raise her kids, then got mad when I was reluctant to give back the one thing I'd had to distract me from missing her.

I was sixteen when she got denied that promotion, after putting her family second my whole life. I was seventeen when they gave her that promotion, too scared of losing her because they realized just how much she'd done.

They pulled my mother around to and fro as they pleased, strung her along by promising that she could advance, get paid more, get more for her family, if she just worked a little harder, gave a little more. They yanked all the rest of us around after her, uncaring of the pain they caused her, how exhausted she was, how it transferred onto us.

And my mom was Air Force. My biggest worry was that her plane would stop working and go down. I never worried about my mom getting shot at, or blown up, or taken by whoever she was told to fight against. I got off easy, as it goes. Plenty of other people don't. Sure, the military has resiliency events, tells the kids with a little pat on their heads "your mommy/daddy is doing an important job and it is good and right that they are not here because their job is too important for them to stay here with you."

When you hear that the first time, maybe it helps a little. When you hear that for the tenth time, you start to hate whoever is tearing your family apart. By the twentieth, you swear you're never going to be the reason anyone has to go to one of these stupid family resiliency events.

The military does not care about you. It never did, and it never will. They treat you like a chess piece and move you around as they please because you practically signed away your personhood for the duration you are enlisted.

Do. Not. Join. The U.S. military.

[cazzyf1]

My favourite/interesting quotes from: Jim Clark Portrait of a Great Driver

"One winter afternoon when I was down there Clark explained that we had to listen for an aircraft around 4.0 p.m. as Colin Chapman, his wife and Jimmy's girl friend Sally Stokes were due to arrive. Chapman had never flown to the farm before and I remember raising an eyebrow when Clark explained how he had told Colin to find the farm. "I told him to fly to Berwick-on- Tweed and then along the line of the River Tweed from the mouth at Berwick. When he saw the first red barns on the north side he was to circle the house until he saw signs of life." At 4.0 p.m. we went outside and scanned the skies but there was no sign of action. At 4.20 p.m. there was the distant sound of an aircraft and we gazed at the slowly darkening skies and finally saw it, a speck in the distance flying in the wrong direction. Immediately Clark scrambled into a Ford Galaxie-Chapman's car, actually and we shot down the narrow farm road, through the esses near the main road junction and turned for Berwick. We had just set off and had reached about 70 m.p.h. when the 'plane suddenly turned and flew towards us. Clark flashed the headlights and Chapman dipped the wings in acknowledgement. A hand brake turn and we were zooming back past the farm and up a side road to the edge of a field filled with sheep. Clark whistled on his dog, jumped the five bar gate and lit out after the sheep with the dog at his heels. Between them they rounded the sheep up and sent them off to the far side of the field whilst Chapman made a couple of passes. On the third he almost touched down then flew off. "He's gone to Winfield", said Clark. So it was back into the Galaxie for another dash across country to the disused airfield, sometime circuit where Clark had run in some sprints in the earliest days of his motor sports career. There we pocked up Chapman and his passengers" - p25-27 Graham Gauld

"In general layout the farm had changed little over the years and it had a family ghost. This was the Grey Lady who Jimmy claimed to have seen when he was very young and taken for his mother. But, on the following morning his mother said she hadn't been near his room. Since then a number of people have been visited by the ghost. Once, when Jimmy and I were preparing some notes for his autobiography, we had a wild session with Jackie Stewart and Paddy Hopkirk. As we talked into the small hours it was decided that Stewart and I would share one room, while Paddy slept in another. Jackie and I thought it was all very funny because we believed that Jimmy had put Paddy into the haunted room but in fact we were told in the morning that we had been sleeping in it..." p27 Graham Gauld

"Clark was the world's worst passenger in any car, in any circumstances with any driver! Indeed, I can only think of one occasion in which I drove him, and then he was kind enough not to comment but just smile wanly every so often" - p46 Graham Gauld

"He once remarked that Indy would be "...fine without the Americans" but in time he made a number of friends over there" - p52 Graham Gauld

"Though to the end he was still a kindly person to those whom he allowed into his confidence, he occasionally displayed a petulance and spite which was generally uncharacteristic. To some people he was cruel, but admist this cruelty one felt that Clark was trying to punish himself for being unable to explain himself. Indeed, if he had an unfulfilled wish, it was to be understood by everyone, but to ask that was to ask for the impossible" - p73 Graham Gauld

"During those times it was a very hard job getting him to believe in himself" - p82 Ian Scott Watson

"The little things you remember are his smile, the way his whole face lit up, and his springy walk and the way he bit his nails. He was an incessant nail biter, which completely baffled me; although he had a slightly nervous disposition this completely dropped when he stepped into a racing car" - p90 Graham Hill

"Whenever I was driving he was either biting his nails or fast asleep. When he was awake there was the occasional sharp intake of breath and the odd remark 'For God's sake, look out'. He was a very nervous passenger. It must have been particularly agonising for him to sit beside me doing 800 miles in thirteen hours or so. When he was driving and made the odd mistake he could never understand why I didn't say anything and he used to say 'For God's sake say something' We were just different that is all" - p91 Graham Hill

"In personal matters, he was not a great one for revealing too much, ans he was a bit clam-like which I think may have been a Scottish trait in him? He was canny, and didn't go around saying too much to people. Very often you found out he had been somewhere or done something, which you would have never known about just talking to him" - p92 Graham Hill

"They were called the Terrible Twins, the Poison Dwarfs and many other ames. But at the height of their friendship they were inseparable" - about Jim and Jackie

"It was also at this time that I started to live in John Whitmore's flat in London with Jimmy. From that day on we called it the Scottish Embassy" - p101 Jackie Stewart

"Though Jim led something of a monastic life, I must say that put there he was a real swinger, living a very busy life" - p101 Jackie Stewart

"In fact we spent so much time with one another that we became known at Batman and Robin - and I kept calling him Robin" - p102 Jackie Stewart

"Jimmy Clark was also very nationalistic, indeed we both had this trait and we were quite sincere about it. It really had to be Scottish. If anything came up wherein he was called English he was at pain to correct it" - p103 Jackie Stewart

"When reflecting on the future that Jimmy had in store I feel that he was not going to go back to full-time farming in Berwickshire. He was living the life of an international figure and no matter what might have happened in later years, I don't think he would have returned to Duns permanently. He had become a very sophisticated person. He played pretty hard and his tastes were very high and these he wasn't going to satisfy in Duns. I am sure he would have kept the house and that from time to time he would have loved to go back up there, but I don't think he would ever have gone back and settled down in the way a lot of people would have liked to imagine that he would. This just wasn't on and this is why, when people told me that Jimmy was thinking of retiring, I know that this was not the case. We talked about this a lot but he really didn't know what he wanted to do in the future. He didn't let anyone know what he was doing." - p105 - Jackie Stewart

"He was much more conscious of his personality than most people realised. It you went into a restaurant with Jimmy he did want to be recognised as Jim Clark. He didn't want it from the point of view of people asking for autographs but, like any human being, he did want the benefit of best table" - p107 Jackie Stewart

"His most difficult task in life, however, was making decisions.It was completely incomprehensible to find that someone who was so accurate and definite in his actions in a racing car was so completely inadequate when a decision had to be made outside a racing car. The number of times we have missed dinner because the restaurants have all been closed because Jimmy hadn't made up his mind which restaurant we should go to are legion, and the same is true of movies. One story is so typical of Jimmy. We were coming back from one of the American races and driving along a road where you cross a railway line with a ten mile straight one side and a ten mile straight on the other side. Jimmy is at the wheel of this Ford Galaxie and he gets to the crossing and stops. He looks one way then the other and there isn't a train in sight ten miles one way and ten miles the other then he turns to me and says 'well... what do you think?" He wouldn't dare make a decision without all sorts of drama. " - p107

"He was very keep to read everything said about him, and to make sure that there were no mistakes (this was a characteristic of Jimmy - he was most insistent that even the smallest of mistakes should not be made). He would spend half the afternoon reading sitting on a chair half in hand out of the little office. Sometimes if there were too many people talking in the office he would even shut himself in it" - p120 Gérard Crombac

"He met most of the French drivers in motorracing and the parties he went to were motor racing parties. He seldom went out on his own" - p122 Gérard Crombac

"He was no gourmet but he was becoming one, and he was very fond of French oysters we usually ended up in a sea food place " - p122 Gérard Crombac

"But although he was very generous, he remained the canny Scot of legend and he was not one to waste any money. I remember that he didn't want a house maid in the flat, so if one turned up in the middle of the morning, one might find James Clark Esq., O.B.E, pushing the vacuum cleaner through our living room" - p125 Gérard Crombac

"I thought his rather strong Scottish accent was fading with the time, until an incident when he was invited to patronise the opening of a French pub, which was to be done in style with the help of a pipe band. When Jimmy turned up and realised these people were fellow Scots he started chatting happily with them and I could hardly understand what he was saying as his accent had come back strongly and so suddenly." - p126 Gérard Crombac

"Jimmy's Scottish upbringing had instilled in him a rather restrained attitude towards girls, and I think he was very very shy with them in the early part of his career. But he was also tremendously attractive to them they would come up to him for autographs, and would leave no doubt as to their true intentions. In part he enjoyed this, but I also think he was put off in a way by this ruthless approach, so that he had absolutely no respect for most of them. So as a result, there were times when he wasn't the perfect gentleman." -p126 Gérard Crombac

"There was also a time he found a packet of cigarettes in a tent, gathered a bunch of boy scouts around him and gave them the cigarettes. He then had a picture taken of all these boy scouts lined up a cricket team smoking cigarettes with Jimmy in the middle holding a half gallon of beer." - p136 Bill Bryce

"I think Jimmy drove like a ballet dancer, he had the lightest feet and hands on earth. He had immensely strong shoulders and arms but this was the only part of him that was strong physically. He was a great dancer in motor cars, gentle with them, kind with them and I feel that the reason he was a great driver was that there was always the feeling of participation with the motor car, so the driving almost became sixth sense with him in many cases." - p145 Walter Hayes

"All this stuff about Jimmy the Shepherd with his little flat cap was nonsense. He wasn't a great Shepherd. He liked to go back to the family every so often to rediscover who he was" - p146 Walter Haynes

"When I first met Jimmy he found it extremely difficult to speak in public and he was exceptionally shy about it" - p148 Walter Haynes

"I remember just before his accident, he was talking about his future and what he was going to do when he stopped racing, and he said he finally made up his mind that he wouldn't in fact go back farming. He still loved it, but I think after the excitement and turmoil of racing, flying and the life he had been leading. I think he wanted to settle down in some branch of the aviation business" - p164 Colin Chapman

[incorrect-arknightsquotes]

Okay I am feeling kinda insane so I have to spell everything out

I have a theory about Lappland

First of all I'm sure she has connection to Laterano and that's why.

1) Skin

So her skin from Bloodline of Combat "Refined Horrormare". The one in which description written "The outfit Lappland wore at the Laterano Apostolic Knights' Funeral Memorial Hall.

Even two years ago , I was confused about what Lappy to do with Laterano. Why does she visit the Funeral of Apostolic Knight?

The thing about BoC skins is that they have usually heavy lore. Mountain leaving RI, Beagle dying, Executor tracking down Artoria, and past of a lot of operators. Right?

So about Lappland's skin. We see her wearing this clothes in IL Siracusana, and a lot of people, especially wiki-writers think that it is that big moment skin's introduction written about. BUT IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE.

First of all it's nowhere near Laterano and other skins if they have a very direct connection with place and event.

Also quotes in this skin

" Collect the debts, and pay the price."

And

"Is that all? That's all our lives are worth. I told you, everything you've taken from me, I'll have you repay. In full." - is quote from Lappland and people(on wiki) think that she says it to her father, BUT BUT she didn't try to take a revenge on him in event. Maybe in the future, but unlikely. She stated that she doesn't want any connection with Siracusa and said goodbye to him, not trying to hurt. Hardly counts as repaing, right?

Also also in whole even she never showed as much hostility or better say vengefulness? Even her fight with Texas felt more like friendly rematch.

And I don't think anyone or anything in Siracusa could cause her such emotions if she leaves it so easily.

BUT WHAT IF THERE IS SOMEONE IN LATERANO WHO CAN CAUSE THEM?!

So I am sure we will have Lappland in Laterano

Okay sorry moving on.

2) Her belt

Her belt has number "1911" on it and IT is a year when last Newfoundland Wolf was killed, but in contrast with Texas her family is fine. So kinda weird isn't it?

So maybe this number has a double meaning

And you know what else happened in 1911?

M1911 was designed.

And I mean Sankta's and their guns, right?

3) Sweets

It's almost nothing, but second thing Laterano is known for is their sweets and Lappland kinda mentions sweets a lot?

Her notorious voiceline with mentioning of mille feuille and which she given to Exusiai and tried to give to Texas. Her keeping chocolate (of course it's maybe more about Texas). This stickers

Kinda suspicious isn't it?

So like she has connection to Laterano definitely. But what is this connection?

Well my theory is that her mother was Sankta.

And my arguments, I do have arguments!

1) Sankta's offsprings with other races don't bear any physical similarities with their divine parents, so her being Lupo doesn't contradict this theory

2) She is one of only two Lupo operators who deal Arts damage, and she was stated to not have any training with it, using Arts with just raw talent alone in her file. And Sanktas are well known for their impressive Arts controlling abilities

3) Also the end of her file

For a long time we thought it was Texas about Lappland and about her family. But now after Siracusano we can see that we mistaken a lot. First of all she lost her family not because they are dead, but because they threw her away. Also she didn't forced Doctor to choose anything yet. Doctor even wasn't present in Siracusana. Also know I'm even doubting if it was written by Texas, because we seen them interacting in Siracusana and they are fine. Weird as fuck and deadly to each other, but fine. If Texas truly believed she is that dangerous she would try to keep PL as far away from her as possible. But she isn't

So whatever this file states it going to happen in future.

And I think she will revenge for her mother.

It is a very weak theory I know, but I can't stop think about it.

So if you have your own theory about Lappland's connection to Laterano, please, I am begging, tell me.

[animefreak1145]

The Brilliance of Break On Through

Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War Mission Break on Through—An Analysis

I have replayed the campaign of COD:BOCW numerous times—too many times truly. Did a whole playthrough where it was Hardened and soon I’m sure I shall do Veteran(something I have never done for any COD game. Not even Hardened.).

All missions have their own unique qualities—parts where the player gets a little rush of adrenaline depending on the kind of mission and how they choose to play it (Nowhere Left to Run just a plain shooting match while Brick in the Wall you can choose to remain stealthy like the good spy you are or go crazy like an eager homicidal maniac).

Even within the safehouse, there are plenty of little details to discover if you take the time to look around and observe everyone. Or, everything. (The radio if turned to a Russian station/correspondence, Adler changes it back immediately before Da Nang mission. Watching Park’s body language, as you talk to Adler and she periodically looks over to you two. Adler suspicious when you go to the Red Room or the locked room with the arcade. The T.V. being turned on in the Red Room)

But the amount of details, details, in the mission Break on Through is outstanding. I have played this mission more than any other due to me wishing to look at all the details. There’s so many, I think I may miss some. And I can’t show them off all to you cause I suck at creating gifs and don’t know how to transfer that from Xbox to my phone.

To lighten it up a bit, I won’t focus on the four different scenarios you go through—at least not each one. That would take too long and I do not have gifs/pics to show it off since Tumblr limits it to ten anyways.

I will, however, try to guide to what parts of the game you all can explore if you choose to do so. As well just how detailed they did this mission.

I am going to start with the different statements Adler says to you throughout all the Scenarios(17, 6, 11, 1). We only go through four in the actual game—but the fact it goes up to 17 or possibly more shows just how far they went in and messed with Bell’s mind.

Now, Adler seems to be a bit bipolar on how he talks to you whether or not you listen to him and all his directions. Either totally blasé and cold to giving you and pumping you up with more MK or meds, or actually a tad concerned and patient as he guides you through.

If You/Bell Stands Still/Does Nothing:

Example 1

“So you did nothing? What were you, in shock?”

He throws the words callously, mocking. As if Bell isn’t confused and lost at what is going on. He even sounds irritated that you might actually be in shock due to these memories that are just fake—not even real. Not like what he has.

Example 2

“What’s wrong with Bell?” -Adler

“I’m not sure. . .” -Park

“I guess we’ll just wait on you to proceed, Bell.”

The contrast is dizzying. He sounds concerned when he asks Park on what could be wrong with you. If he pushed you too far and now you’re just frozen. And, instead of rushing you due to how the fate of half of Europe is at stake, he decides to give you space. Just wait for you and you’ll come out of it soon enough.

He does these sort of reactions numerous times. Jumping from intimidating to the Adler we knew as the player, as Bell—kind and always in your corner that believes in you. He switches tactics based on what he believes will work really—or he just felt really on edge at times and threw the farce that you two were friends out the window.

Other examples include:

Scenario 11–Napalm Strike-in the lab in the room where you were brainwashed

“Christ, what’s happening with them?”-Adler

“A mild seizure. Sims, past me a benzodiazepine.” -Park

Again, concerned. Worried. Almost…at unease?

In the lab—tripped up on drugs. If you run through the tight shrinking hallway back and forth like so(I suck at making gifs, I’m sorry):

“Why is Bell repeating themselves?”

Or

“Bell, stop speaking in circles.”

Now, as others may have suspected, Bell is talking to everyone as they’re stuck in this horrible loop of mental torture. Most likely muttering, hands clenching and arms pulling against the straps of the gurney, moving their head back and forth depending on what they’re seeing. I always saw Bell as muttering quickly in Russian as they go through all of this—their mother tongue where it may comfort them as they’re panicking and speaking to Adler.

It’s just a nice detail showcasing how exactly Adler knows that Bell is on script—Bell saying what they’re seeing and doing and what’s going on. It shows also just how hard they put Bell through the ringer(badum tss. I’ll leave now).

All the details too when the game shows how the drugs they put in Bell affects you. Like so. The hallways appearing long. The lights looking yellow. You feel so fast—look how quick you can run. Run towards the Red Door that Adler so desperately wants and maybe this can stop. Ah, why is it running away from you? What’s going on?

I don’t know about you, but I was so lost and confused at what was going on my first playthrough. For the majority of this mission, the possibility of me being brainwashed didn’t reach the BACK of my mind till probably I actually saw the flashes of scenes about Vietnam and calling Bell a subject. So like right here.

I personally thought that I had a repressed memory or something due to me going through the Vietnam War. That whatever I saw with Perseus, I—or rather Bell—repressed it from our mind due to how violent or horrible what we saw or experienced was. And that Adler suspected and just really wanted to know about it.

I didn’t expect for the man to actually brainwash my character—us—Bell! The game made Adler your mentor, who always defended you from Hudson and believed in your skills very highly. How he and Bell were basically perfect partners when the two of you were together.

It’s amazing—cause I think that’s what the developers were going for. The absolute trust. The loyalty. The denial that ‘maybe Adler is being a little harsh but hey, this is to help Perseus so it’s okay?’ It’s perfect. Because I’m sure that is what Bell actually felt in real time.

Yet, if you go through the total rebellious choice of not listening to Adler, some thing’s make sense. The Rebellious Side shows you way more than if you just listen to Adler like a Dutiful Soldier.

You go through this room if you choose the rebellious route, the T.V.’s automatically turning on the closer you get. Of Vietnam. And now, all those T.V.‘s that turned on by themselves(the Red Room, Lubyanka, Cuba) make sense. You were actually being brainwashed. Poor Bell probably can’t ever have a turned off/broken T.V. again. The trauma.

Said trauma being shown multiple times too. Not just the T.V.‘s. But the absolute terror that Bell felt, before they became Bell, with Adler.

Like do you see this? This terrified me when I saw it at the end of the hallway. I just saw a red shadow in the distance and I legit thought I was about to be chased. Call of Duty became a horror game(I also went through the door to the ground too my first playthrough, so before this I went through zombies and I think my heart was going to jump out my chest) I thought. I didn’t want to get closer. I had to, with each step I see that it’s not a shadow but a body. And than I see the familiar jacket, the sound of whirring in my ears and see it’s Adler’s head being twisted back and forth, side to side, up and down, in a speed that in inhumanely possible.

Makes one wonder if Bell themselves sees Adler as inhumane. Not human. Adler seeming to just be a god in their head. All the Adler shaped rocks/boulders you go through and see. Even one point the V.C. becoming Adler and you killing him over and over and dead bodies of Adler being everywhere.

The man has entered Bell’s head and won’t leave. Just like Adler won’t leave Bell alone.

Heck, there’s one point in my playthroughs of this mission I was by the bridge yet there were parts of the lab by it. I jumped towards it, noticing down below there were different floors of the lab that eventually reach the ground. I jumped to reach the next floor and missed and I died.

And Adler mocked Bell committing suicide.

That was the kicker really that Adler truly is indifferent towards Bell. Like complete disregard. I know it’s fake. We know it’s fake. Adler knows it’s fake—but to Bell, it felt real. That’s the crazy part. All of this—this whole sequence feels real to Bell so each time they die they actually feel it. It’s insane. It’s cruel.

But we all know that Adler isn’t known for his kindness. Still like his character though, he’s layered.

I don’t have the exact quote he said, didn’t wrote it down like the others. I was shook he said it at all.

Moving on to the final details I’m going to talk about.

When you go through the room, I believe this comes out for both rebellious and dutiful, really depends. You see it filled with post it notes, articles, plans, and newspapers. And you see once more just how Bell has been scarred.

I don’t know Russian or German, but I imagine the notes are similar to what the English one’s say. If I’m wrong, please point it out.

There’s also post it notes which I believe is in code as well due to all the numbers—I’m not sure what those could mean since I am no decoding expert.

Poor poor Bell. And with all these pictures and plans—of Adler included—it begs the question that Bell may have been warned about the famous America’s Monster beforehand. Had to have—since Adler is basically Perseus’s adversary due to how stubborn the American man could be. It just adds more to the story, despite Cold War having quite a short campaign, they made it up somewhat with all these details everywhere.

When you finally and actually reach the room.

As you grow closer to the table, to your chair in the conference room while everyone else seems to have their own spots, there’s something I noticed.

There’s glasses. As well as a hat. And it’s Bell’s. Or at least, it used to be. Why else is it on their side of the table? By their chair? I believe it might be reading glasses due to all the decryptions Bell does, whether on paper or through a computer, it’s hard on the eyes. (I’m sure I’m not the only one who noticed this. For look at @second-vtoroy ‘s Bell)

I believe through the brainwashing, Bell might not need glasses anymore. After all, apparently they were a smoker like Adler before too but they took that out of you. What else they changed of Bell? It makes one wonder how far they truly went into molding a person.

Which just adds onto how mind boggling this mission is—this game is. This is my favorite COD game, despite how short it is. The details and choices and interactions with everyone and able to create your own character(albeit it’s very standard and not specific but it’s good enough for me) is AMAZING. I’ve always been a sucker for RPG’s and able to get that even a little in a COD game? Truly wonderful.

I couldn’t touch on everything because it would’ve gotten long, but the fun of the Break on Through mission never gets old. It’s genius multiple ways you can do it. All the details. The feelings you feel as a player as you go through it.

They truly did a unique job with this and I hope they continue with this type of game storytelling. Hopefully longer as well.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this rant basically!

Gifs made by me and used the video down below to help.

https://youtu.be/t6QkmkGGHSQ

[hangovercurse]

Worst Firsts

You and Colson go on Worst First with Brittany Furlan and Tommy Lee.

Request: “Have Colson(mgk) and reader (who are dating) go on worst first with brittany furlan(lee).LOVE YOUR WORK!!!❤❤”

Colson X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, talk of sex (no actual smut)

Word Count: 1684

“Hello all you fine folks out there and welcome back to Worst Firsts. Boy oh boy do we have the show for you today. First off, we have my husband, Tommy Lee, with us here.” Colson banged on the table as you gave out a small cheer. Brittany continued, a small laugh sent in your direction, “We brought our favorite Tommy Lee two-point-O Machine Gun Kelly back on the show today!” You cheered for your boyfriend as Tommy banged on the table. “And for her first time on the show, we have the wonderful Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!” Colson shouted for you as Tommy continued banging on the table. “Thank you guys so much for coming, thank you for coming back Colson. I am so excited you guys are here today.”

“I love bein’ here.” Colson said into the mic, shooting Brittany a smile.

“When you asked us to come on, I was so fucking excited.” You said, Colson nodding with you.

“For real, bro. She was off the walls.”

Brittany continued, speaking to her audience, “If you guys didn’t know, Gunner here played Tommy in The Dirt way back in 2019, which released right before you two met, am I right?”

You smiled lightly, a slight heat rushing to your cheeks as the focus turned to you and Colson. Luckily, he answered for you, “yeah, we met literally like maybe 3 days after the premiere. That was such a sick time in my life.”

“Dude, I bet. You release a kick ass movie and then turn around and meet-“ Tommy started, Colson cutting him off to finish his sentence.

“The love of my life, yeah.” You smiled bashfully, Colson’s arm finding its way around you and pulling you into his side.

Brittany smiled at you two, Tommy’s hand reaching over to grab hers under the table. “So, this show is all about first times and, while normally we would talk about worst firsts, I gotta know how you two met.”

“It’s honestly not much of a story,” you began, “Netflix had this party and we were both invited because we both had movies out on Netflix. I went up to him at the bar because I thought he was hot and we started talking and now, uh, we’re here.” Colson nodded as you recounted the memory.

“I was trying so hard not to fuck anything up though, because literally the entire night before she came up to me, I was trying to figure out how to talk to her.” Your boyfriend said, red on his cheeks.

Brittany sent you a mischievous smile, “so what happened after that? Did you give him your number, did he ask you out, something else?” The inflection in her voice and the wiggle of her eyebrows let you in on exactly what else she thought you might have done.

“Something along the lines of something else.” You said, a smile playing on your lips. Colson threw his head back in laughter. Tommy nodded with pride at you two.

‘Speaking of something else.” Colson began, making you look up to him in both confusion and panic, “This is all about worst firsts, right?”

“What are you about to say?” You asked him, a warning in your voice.

He giggled, “remember the first time we had sex in public?”

Brittany’s eyes went wide, “you two did what?”

Tommy asked, “first time?”

You leaned into Colson’s side, a blush rising to your face. “That was literally the most awkward experience of my entire life.”

Colson laughed at the expressions of the older couple, “okay, basically we were on tour in the middle of butt fuck nowhere and there was nothing in this town. No bars, no clubs, nothing.”

You continued his story, “but there was this tiny carnival. So, after the show we went in hope of something fun happening.”

Tommy laughed, “well something fun certainly happened.”

��After about an hour in we were bored and she was only gonna be on tour for a few more days.” Colson said, “so we figured we should make the most out of the lame ass carnival. And then we found it.”

“the photobooth.” You said, watching Brittany’s jaw drop.

“Him, I expect this from.” She pointed at Colson, “but you?”

You giggled, nodding your head, “It was her idea!” Colson exclaimed over your laughs.

“I hadn’t seen him in almost two months and was only on tour for two weeks, I had to make up for lost time and this was the only place that we could get any semblance of privacy.” You said, shoving Colson lightly as he grinned proudly at you.

“Wait so did you two get caught?” Tommy asked, intrigued.

Colson answered, “we didn’t get caught, per say, but as we were leaving this family came up to the booth. And I mean, there’s not a great way to hide that you’ve just had sex. We tried, but people still know.”

Brittany and Tommy laughed, the latter banging his hand on the table as he did so. “The look on that mother’s face. I thought she was gonna call the cops or something.” You said.

“Was it at least good?” Brittany asked to which Colson replied,

“we were in a photobooth, Brittany. No.”

Tommy chuckled, “I’m sure it was better than doing it on the tour bus.”

Your eyes went wide and a laugh tumbled from your mouth as you recalled the first time you and Kells had had sex on the tour bus. “We do not need to talk about that.” He looked down at you as he spoke, a look of warning in his eyes.

“Oh yes we do.” Brittany said, looking at you to speak.

“There’s not much to it, but as I’m sure you can imagine, the bunks are not the most spacious of beds. And Colson here is a six-foot-four giant who barely fits in the bunk as it is.” You began, giggling as Colson’s glare hardened on you. “Let’s just say Kells almost got a concussion because he hit his head so hard.”

Brittany laughed as Tommy spoke, “sex in the bus is difficult, dude. I get it.”

“Why didn’t you just go on top?” Brittany asked you.

Colson grumbled, “because she was “tired from her flight” and “didn’t want to get hurt.”” He used air quotes as he mimicked your words from the night, making Brittany and Tommy laugh.

“I sat on a plane for 9 hours to see you, the least you can do is top.” You said, shrugging as Colson let out a silent chuckle. “But yeah, it was not good.”

You continued to talk about other first times you’d had. You told the couple about your first kisses when you were younger, retelling the story of your first kiss in middle school when your braces got stuck on the poor kid’s lip.

Then Colson recounted the story of the first time you both went out on a boat together. “For context,” you started, “I am terrified of the ocean. I can swim but I refuse to go into any water that isn’t a pool.”

“We were out there with a couple of our friends and she was staying as far away from the edge of the boat as possible. And then some of our homies tried to pull her towards the edge and she freaked the fuck out.”

You pouted, “you fucking laughed the entire time it was not funny.”

“It was!” He exclaimed, “you were pulling away like a little kid.” You glared at him, “but, for the record because people are gonna think I’m a bad boyfriend, I made them stop. And then I dragged her towards the edge myself and made her sit with me.”

You then told the story of the first time you’d gotten a call from the hospital to come get Kells. “I was unaware that this was a normal thing. So, when I get a call at 4 am that he’s in the ER I was kind of freaking out. And then I get there and him and Rook are just sitting there messing around like two little kids.”

Colson chuckled, rubbing his face with his hands, “you were so worried when you first came in and then as soon as you saw us you got so annoyed.”

“What did you guys do that got you in the ER?” Brittany asked.

You deadpanned, “they were throwing knives around and Colson nearly cut off his finger.”

Tommy nodded, “nice.”

After a few more firsts, Brittany asked the final first worst, “what was the first or worst fight you guys got in?”

You looked at your boyfriend, trying to figure out what fight he’d pick. “The first big fight we got into was that night at the hospital that we mentioned earlier.” He said and you nodded in agreement. “Which I was totally in the wrong about.”

“Yeah. We got home and I literally couldn’t talk to him without wanting to scream.” You said.

Tommy tilted his head, “were you mad that he had gotten hurt or that he called you so late?”

You shook your head, “I was more frustrated than anything. Like I was fucking panicking because I thought something really bad had happened and he was treating it like a joke. But we talked about it and obviously we’re fine now.” You said smiling up at your boyfriend.

He grabbed your hand under the table, squeezing gently. “Yeah. That was also the first night I told you I loved you.” He said, nudging your shoulder with his own.

You rolled your eyes, nudging him back, “yeah, yeah. Don’t get all sentimental on me now.” You said, giggling silently.

Brittany and Tommy watched you, smiling like proud parents. “Alright folks, we’re gonna end this podcast here. Thank you guys so much for tuning in, thank you guys for coming.” She motioned to you two, “It’s always so nice to see you guys, love catching up with you. If you’re not already subscribed, you should do that. Leave a like, a comment, whatever you want.”

[philipkindreddickhead]

I often seen critiques of make up from an existential/philosophical perspective, but I rarely see criticism of cosmetics from a stand point of the very physical bodily harm it does. I think this is because the number of dangerous ingredients is so massive, and overlapping its an absolutely daunting task. So I've compiled the information I've found and bear with me its a lot. (This is from an American perspective. Sorry, thats what I know. However I would love it if people from other countries had things to add.)

First I want to get the "simple" stuff out of the way. I think almost everyone has heard about bacteria and fungi in makeup and that makeup causes acne from clogging pores. Makeup has a pretty strict shelf life, yet consumers are entirely supposed to self-police as Ive never seen a single expiration date on any cosmetic packaging. (I guess consumers are meant to pull this knowledge out of the ether or something. I only found out about it in a tumblr PSA. I did read that expirys are on products in Europe.) Beauty blenders are the worst offender because theyre almost always moist. When I was taught makeup I was told to wet my sponge so it would soak up less product. If you apply makeup daily your sponge is likely constantly damp. USA Today had an article which said that 96% of sponges had fungi and over 60% had E. Coli in them. But I think what people talk about less is the complication of problems from using other products in conjunction with dirty beauty blenders. USA Today warns its especially dangerous to use beauty blenders if you have damage to your skin like acne, cuts, or dry skin. However the most popular beauty products for washing your face contain walnut pieces for literally scrubbing your skin and creating microabrasions. If youre a frequent makeup user you probably know about the cyclical nature of applying foundation, breaking out, and then applying more foundation to cover the breakout. You may even be using scrubbing cleansers more frequently to combat the acne creating more tears. This can lead to "blood poisoning" and, though neither USA today or Forbes mentions this, blood poisoning (not a medical term btw. Its sepsis.) according to numerous medical sites has the potential to be extremely lethal. The symptoms are so similar to a regular flu its nearly impossible to self-diagnose.

The very first thing I was told when a friend handed me a jar of finishing powder- popular with many beauty gurus for the "baking" technique and considered a must have- was a joke about "clown lung." This was a reference to the main ingredient talc. Talc causes lung problems including cancer and respiratory illness. If anyone remembers the large Johnson and Johnson lawsuit from 2019 it was because theyd been putting talc into baby powder. Talc is dangerous because it's impossible to mine and seperate from ASBESTOS. Some high-end finishing powders will try to sell you on safe talc-free formulas but all the products I looked into contained mica instead which causes pneumoconiosis, colloquially known as "black lung disease." Like fucking coal miners get. Its not just present in finishing powder either. In my research it turned out that talc/asbestos are also present in many eyeshadows and other powder products. [Googleable, evidenced in J&J lawsuit]

Another industry to examine is nail salons. Toluene, Formaldehyde, Dibutyl Phthalate, and Methacrylate compounds are all dangerous ingredients and present in various salon products. These ingredients cause a range of problems from dizziness, drowsiness, birth defects, slow fetal growth, future intellectual disabilities in the fetus, eye skin and throat irritation, coughing, allergic reactions, asthma-like attacks, short-term memory loss, nausea, dermatitis, cancer, and misscarriage. Some nail products advertise that they are 3-free meaning that toluene, formaldehyde, and DP should be absent but often the labels are found to be completely inaccurate. It should be noted that the risk is mainly to salon workers and not patrons but ask yourself if it is right to place other people at serious risk for your aesthetic. OSHA does make an attempt to mitigate these risks however not once in my years of makeup queen did I see a salon following these directives which include constant air monitoring, half mask respirators with chemical cartridges, gloves, long sleeves, and safety glasses. (And Im not even going to touch issues of human trafficking/slave labour out of nail salons one case of which occured 5 days ago two hours away from me) It should also be noted that formaldehyde can also be found in hair relaxers and hair dyes. [Found articles in Scientific American and NYT]

I also found on the FDAs website that many cosmetics include heavy metals like arsenic, mercury, and lead. (Usually accompainied by a picture of lipstick so I assume that is the product most likely to contain it, however campaign for safe cosmetics lists foundation as containing heavy metals, and The Guardian has an article about skin lighteners from Asia and Africa containing mercury.) The website stated that the amount of these heavy metals in cosmetics is "safe" if used as intended. (and I'm going to come back to the concept of "intended use" later because thats a can of worms too) However, when searching for info on heavy metal safety I found this quote in regards to metals in food:

"Certain metals, such as arsenic, lead and mercury, have no established health benefit, and have been shown to lead to illness, impairment, and in high doses, death. Understanding the risk that harmful metals pose in our food supply is complicated by the fact that no single food source accounts for most people’s exposure to metals in foods. People’s exposure comes from many different foods containing these metals. Combining all of the foods we eat, even low levels of harmful metals from individual food sources, can sometimes add up to a level of concern"

So like, which is it? Is it a "safe amount" or is no amount of metal safe? I understand that in the case of certain foods like fish some amount of mercury poisoning is always expected but fish is also something you feed yourself and nourish your body with while cosmetics are completely unecessary to your survival. The mercury problem in fish is also mitigated by health warnings when mercury levels are particularly high but cosmetics have no such warning. Another warning on the site indicated that children should ingest NO amount of lead AT ALL because it is particularly harmful for kids yet theres no effort to stop children from using lead-containing cosmetics. I worked next to a Five Below where I was shocked to find they sold Jeffree Star and Anastasia eyeshadow dupes for five dollars which amounts to fucking pocket change for a lot of kids and kids do buy that stuff. I also think its ironic the FDA would have anything to say regarding cosmetics because in the very same article about heavy metals in cosmetics the FDA says that they DO NOT REGULATE cosmetics beyond the color additives.

Mascara, eyeliner, lipstick, and brow tint often contain carbon black. This is a color additive that is an incomplete combustion of carbon-based products. It can cause lung disease, cancer, and organ system toxicity, and eye, nose, throat irritation. The effects are mainly studied in rats and those at biggest risk are industrial workers but why do other workers have to endure lung problems for something so unecessary? [Easily googleable, NIH, CDC, WHO Europe]

This next bit I only want to mention briefly because I didnt find any particularly reputable sources about it, but its a claim that cropped up repeatedly and I think its an interesting one. Parabens, estrogen, phthalates (again), and pesticides in cosmetics are apparently linked to endocrine disorders and hormone dysregulation. Im not entirely sure what is meant by this accusation. Endocrine disorders include female diseases like PCOS and possibly endometriosis. None of these diseases is very well studied and the female endocrine system itself is not well studied either. Im not saying "cosmetics cause PCOS" because we dont know if PCOS or these other endocrine/hormonal disorders are genetic or environmental or both (it appears that PCOS is largely genetic and Endometriosis is likely autoimmune related) AND we dont appear to know for sure that cosmetic ingredients cause endocrine disorder. But I include anyway for a number of reasons:

If you happen to struggle with hormonal problems you may want to know cosmetics is a potential environment factor.

These conditions are incredibly painful. It will be a battle getting your doctor to even acknowledge that pain for diagnosis. PCOS is linked to diabetes, and heart disease. [Thanks @mother-of-pearl ] There is no cure and the treatments are often throwing hormonal birth control at it and hoping for the best.

I dont anticipate the link between cosmetics and endocrine disorders being studied any time soon or any endocrine disorders studied at all because the medical/scientific field is sexist. I dont want women to suffer in the mean time.

Now again, take this with a grain of salt because I couldnt find scientific or news sources for it. Dont fucking come for me. Im not gonna respond to you. [Most reputable source was a paper from the library of medicine at the national institutes of health but it was behind a paywall and I dont have 39 dollars to be right on tumblrdotcom]

Avoiding these ingredients is not as simple as scanning the label for them. As many beautubers and the community are no doubt aware considering multiple scandals over veganism. Products advertised as vegan or cruelty free but contain non-vegan carmine or are sold in China which legally requires the products to be animal tested. Cosmetic companies will hide ingredients claiming they are "trade secrets" or they will be placed under "fragrance." Many ingredients will be known by six or seven different names and asking consumers to be aware of seven different names for multiple ingredients requires consumers to be aware of innumerable different, often complicated ingredient names. I shouldnt have to point out that's a ridiculous burden to place on women. The EU banned 1,300 hazardous ingredients that the US did not. Cosmetic companies rely on women being unwilling/unable to bring in a list of 1,300 ingredients- with multiple names- every time they pop in to the drug store, sephora, or wherever. Buying "natural" products will not help you either. Theres no established criteria for natural/organic in costmetics, the FDA doesnt test these products, and "natural"=/= safe anyway. Plenty of plants and minerals are poisonous. One good example is traditional kohl products which advertise their natural status but also naturally contain lead and reiterating that natural powders contain mica. US courts are rarely on the side of consumers either. I found an interesting lawsuit against St. Ives for their apricot scrub taken to court for their "dermatologist tested" label despite it causing breakouts and cuts to the skin. The courts ruled that this label was fine because it only indicated that the product was TESTED not APPROVED by dermatologists. However I think any rational consumer would look at this label and assume the tests concluded it was safe for use or else why put the label on there?

[Googlable XMONDO drama, googlable laws wrt china and eu, already stated about FDA, FDA website about Kohl. Googled St. Ives lawsuit.]

I want to return to the idea of "intended use." This is sort of a fucky concept a lot of companies have ways of getting around. My "last straw" with makeup had to do with a run-in I had with Anastasia over their "Riviera" eyeshadow palette. In this pallette they had two colors that were the real feature of the palette, an electric neon purple and a radioactive pink I mean every photo, every promotion has these two colors swirled together around the eye. Because again, its an eyeshadow palette. When I buy the eyeshadow palette of course there's a little insert warning in the package that says these two shades are not intended on the eye area. In an eyeshadow palette. Contacting their customer service they told me that these two shades were meant to be used as a blush. neon purple blush. Not only that, but their website and instagram featured NO models wearing the shades as blush while EVERY model one or more of the shades as eyeshadow. When asked about this discrepancy ABH stopped responding. What I find egregious about this is the amount of people who dont know, and then more staggeringly; dont care. The sephora clerks didnt know, the in store abh representative didnt know, their customers didnt know, and when I told them they would respond with "oh, [brand] did the same thing with their [shade]." Sure enough, when I demanded that store clerks open the packaging to look for warnings nearly every product had an "eyeshadow" that was not intended for use on the eyes. Relegating dark, red-toned teal to "contour" and neon grean to "highlighter" US-based cosmetic junkies will say that these pigments have been approved for use by the EU however I found absolutely NO evidence of that. I googled it a thousand ways but all I ever found were blog posts, reddit comments, and one quote from an apparently nonEuropean layman in an Insider article. I even changed my location to France on ABH's website and the Norvina palette still contains the same warnings (not to harp on ABH in particular. I just know which shades in particular are the problem there). The Insider article noted that brands who were selling pressed pigments declined to comment. If the pressed pigments were EU friendly, I would think companies would be clamouring to say so. It also still makes their market as eyeshadow colors illegal in the US. (If any Europeans would like to chime in I'd love that.) Another problem I find with cosmetics companies and their reps is the claim that the worst thing that could happen is eye irritation for those with sensitive eyes and staining. How could they possibly know? The FDA doesnt test, or approve these cosmetics in the eye area, so ostensibly no one should be using it that way.

The next one is a bit of a "duh" but I'm going to talk about it anyway. Counterfeit cosmetics are a booming market full of untold dangers. Untold primarily because these products could contain literally anything. Ive read about glue, arsenic, lead, feces, staph, and horse urine to name a few. The labels and ingredient list on these products are fake. Legitimate brands often unintentionally play into the counterfeit market. They create artificial scarcity by making less of the product than is actually needed for consumer demand to create an even higher demand. If consumers miss out often their only chance at getting the product is to turn to counterfeits. I found examples of women who had their lips superglued, lips "turned to goo" and burned to blistering, throat closures, women with stys, contact dermatitis, eye infections. I think we as a society turn a blind eye to this problem because we think "hey, if youre buying counterfeits for a discount and you get hurt you deserve it." We imagine idiots buying products for 4 dollars from ebay or perusing Canal street for FEИTY beauty. But these counterfeits can be really convincing. I myself received a gift of a huda palette that I only recognized something was weird about it because I'd swatched it at sephora about five times earlier that month. The person who bought it for me actually paid MORE than the usual cost for the palette because it was advertised as a newer, better edition. The websites can be disturbingly similar. For instance Kylie Jenner's legitimate website is KylieCosmetics.com but you can find fakes at kyliecosmeticsshop.co.uk. These fakes can buy ad space and be one of the first sites that populate when you google the products instead of typing the legitimate site into the address bar. Counterfeits can also be bought and sold through third parties on websites like ebay, wish, and amazon. (My gift actually came from Amazon.)

[Netflix doc "Broken" ep "Makeup Mayhem" Corroborated by personal experience and google]

[sofwrites]

Each other's biggest ally

Polin Week Day 1: Favorite Quote

“No, his method of attack was a lazy smile, a well-timed joke. If Colin ever lost his temper...

Penelope shook her head slightly, unable even to fathom it. Colin would never lose his temper. At least not in front of her. He'd have to be really, truly—no, profoundly —upset to lose his temper. And that kind of fury could only be sparked by someone you really, truly, profoundly cared about.” - Romancing Mister Bridgerton, pg. 64

The one where Colin profoundly cared and had no choice but to lose his temper.

Type: One-shot, angst, sentimentalism, protective/mywife!Colin, protectective/myhusband!Penelope

Length: 3.3k

Read on ao3! Or continue under the cut

In the late months of the year 1825, Penelope Featherington Bridgerton published her debut novel titled The Wallflower. And in the early months of the year 1826, she relished in the praise of her work and suffered in the consequences of her now-public identity.

The response to her book was generally positive. Whether or not they were willing to admit it, the members of the ton were eager to uncover the scathing details surrounding Mrs. Bridgerton’s former pen name. They devoured the secrets hidden between the lines of the pages- forming their own conclusions and theories of what was fact and what was fiction.

It seemed that after many years of Penelope appearing to be invisible, the gravity of her voice was finally truly understood.

But as in all life, there were complications as well.

One gentleman in particular was quick to make his discontent known, and it was all due to just one short excerpt.

Although Beatrice did not befriend even half of the ton, she had made the acquaintance of nearly everyone at one point. And though they never realized, she scrutinized them almost as much as they disregarded her.

Even with her close examinations, she generally liked the people she met. There were bores, many in fact, as well as those with whom conversation could rarely be carried, but most were reasonably pleasant. There were exceptions, however, as there always are. One such exception was as follows:

It is an earlier season for Beatrice, one still full of wonder and disillusioned hope. She looks at the dancefloor with wistfulness in her eyes, dreaming, praying that her prince charming will notice her from across the room and ask her to take his arm.

He does not, of course. His mind is still focused fully on the small group that surrounds him, drawn to him like a shining star amongst the thinly veiled candlelight. Although the music is certainly too loud and the conversations too many, our heroine can perfectly hear his laughter through the crowded ballroom. She can hear it because she knows it better than she knows her own.

Later that evening, he’ll ask her to dance. He’ll remember her minuscule presence in his life, likely prodded by a sharp finger to his spine and a voice carrying a gentle reminder. And even though she knows why he will do so, knows that it is due to a kind sense of duty rather than true desire, she will cherish it all the same.

Right now, however, Beatrice remains at the edge of the dancefloor, her silent woes interrupted by the familiar voice of her mother.

“Beatrice, dear, this is Mr. Wetherden. Mr. Wetherden, I present to you my daughter, Beatrice Harpenton.”

Another bachelor, this one ranking second-tier rather than third. Her mother seems to have given her more credit this evening, Beatrice thinks as she looks at the familiar face.

The introduction is an unnecessary formality, of course, as are many of their rules; they were made acquaintances during her first season. Nonetheless, society calls for her to curtsy and give a gracious smile, and she obliges.

At the same time, he assesses her similarly to how he did so a few years before. And she sees it immediately, the dismissal that passes over his eyes even before he fully bends into his low bow.

Her mother leaves them to it- the stifled conversation in an even more stifling ballroom. The unfortunate girl in the canary-colored dress stands on the sidelines, trapped in conversation with yet another uninterested bachelor who is just as much forced upon her as she is on him.

He speaks endlessly, unquestionably more for his benefit than hers. He spends fourteen minutes explaining the difference between rugby and football. She suppresses three yawns and is interrupted twenty-six times throughout the topic, clearly expected to be an audience member rather than a participant.

At this time, she thinks this is Mr. Wetherden’s worst offense. Later on, when she is years older, Beatrice discovers that she was sorely mistaken in her youth. That without the cautionary lights of London (albeit often cloudy and forgiving), he is much worse.

She later on learns about his propensity to unwilling women. To frightened young housemaids who are often not given the options that women of a higher class are granted.

Our heroine also finds out later exactly how commonplace such a tendency is. And with it, her vision of social seasons- the one with balls and picnics and musicales- begins to splinter.

Penelope hadn’t named him, of course. She hadn’t named anyone directly.

She couldn’t publish a memoir, not really. Even though she was related to a fine variation of important characters in society, she couldn’t put such a strain on her family, and particularly not on her husband. Her husband, her lovely, amazing husband who supported her through the entire process even despite the fact that so much of their own private history was laid out in the pages of her novel. Penelope had written the truth, which hadn’t been entirely pretty. But Colin had agreed with her that the truth was more important than sheltering their secrets.

But even though she couldn’t publish a direct recounting of her life and experiences with the ton, she’d been unwilling to just hide behind fabricated stories.

Penelope’s telling of that night at the ball wasn’t completely factual. She did not know how many times Phillip Cavender interrupted her during their conversation, nor whether or not Colin had even been present that evening. But the details of the matter weren’t as important to her as shedding light on the entire situation.

She’d been young and naive during her first few seasons, believing that a few nasty comments and looks were really the worst of what society had to offer. Later on, she’d found out that she had been wrong, and that there was much worse than she’d ever known. And when her sister-in-law, Sophie, had recounted the night she and Benedict had met (well, met again), Penelope knew that she had to shed light on the matter. She had to make it clear what happened outside of the fancy dresses and giggling parties.

But as mentioned, such decisions did not come without their objections.

“Thank God, they’re leaving.”

The words came from just a few feet behind them, full of indignancy and bitterness. The couple had been walking together, arm-in-arm, towards the door, quite eager to return home for the evening.

They’d been attending an intimate house party at the request of the gentleman’s mother. She’d been unable to make her attendance that evening and had asked that her son and his wife go in her stead. They hadn’t been particularly excited about the prospect, but they’d agreed for her.

The party itself hadn’t been bad. The food was good, the music was pleasant, and almost everyone in attendance had offered the woman praise for her work. Though they hadn’t exactly been excited to attend, the evening hadn’t been at all poor.

That was, until they’d been nearing the exit and heard the troublesome remark behind them.

Colin glanced down at his wife, who grimaced, her nose scrunching as her eyes closed. They’d been met with a number of sneers and snide comments in the last few weeks, but they never became easier to hear.

With a small sigh, he turned them both around, looking directly at the man holding a glass of port too large and wearing a lip too curled.

Colin gave him a smile, the familiar one he used whenever he was looking at something that both irritated and mildly amused him. “Didn’t see you there, Cavender. So nice of you to offer us a sendoff.”

The opposing man’s mouth turned downwards, a stark contrast to the grin still on Colin’s face. Penelope swallowed, quickly cutting in. “We really must be getting home.”

With a pointed look directed towards her husband, she began pulling him back towards the door. Though Penelope would have loved to see Phillip Cavender get put into his place, she knew far better than to spar with a man holding a petty vendetta.

But before they’d even fully turned around, there was a mocking bark of laughter, followed by a slight slurring of words. “You do everything she tells you then? Follow her around like a lapdog?”

This time, Colin’s brow lifted ever so slightly, the same half-smile still imprinted on his lips. Penelope felt an uncomfortable heat rising up her neck as she reluctantly turned from the door again.

“If it means getting to share my life with this incredible woman,” Colin sent her a small wink before shrugging, “Then, by all means, call me a lapdog.”

There was some tittering around them by the small audience they’d attracted. With a quick glance, Penelope could see the angry lurch in Cavender’s throat, the narrowing of his eyes, the twitching of his fingers as they tightened around his glass.

Please, just let it go. Let us just leave and go home.

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

“I know what lies she’s spread about me.”

“Oh?” Colin’s face took on a thoughtful expression, one that might have been convincing in any other circumstance. “I don’t recall ever hearing my wife mentioning you.”

Cavender’s glare deepened. “In that bloody book of hers.”

Penelope cringed inwardly as she felt the twitch of Colin’s hand in hers. Her eyes darted around the room as an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed her. The ballroom was small and the guests were bored, and a public row was certainly enough to draw a crowd- one that was full of prying eyes and listening ears.

Colin’s face remained the picture of serenity even though Penelope could sense the angry heat rising from him. It was something she could feel in him that others always missed, a secret fire that he did so well in masking.

Looking at the other man, Colin let out a sigh, one that was forcibly tired, as though he were speaking down to an overly emotional child. “I can assure you that all the characters in my wife’s novel were fabricated. And if you saw yourself in one of the less attractive personages, then I’d venture to say that such is simply a reflection of your own self-image.”

The whispers around them grew, and Cavender sputtered for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the easy taunt. But his surprise only lasted a moment before he hardened once more.

A man with a petty vendetta did not often allow himself to be diverted.

His eyes flickered to Penelope before they returned to Colin and he sneered. “You realize that she’s made you out to be an ass, don’t you? You can act high and mighty, Bridgerton, but the wife you so proudly boast has fashioned you into the biggest fool in all of London.”

It was at this jab that Penelope frowned, feeling her own prickle of anger. And for the first time in the nasty exchange, she turned directly to their shared foe, a hard, determined look set on her face. “Excuse me, Mr. Cavender, but I must ask that you don’t speak to my husband that way.”

She could almost see his eyes flash in fury as they set themselves on her. But before he could give the biting retort that was no doubt resting on his tongue-

“And I’d suggest that you consult a dictionary to properly understand the concept of fiction.” Colin’s tone was relaxed, just a sprinkle of mocking mixed into it. But Penelope could feel the tension in him, the protective edge that mirrored her own.

Cavender’s gaze shifted back to Colin, his rage appearing a bit more controlled as they listened to the snickering that surrounded them. Slowly, his mouth thinned into a tight line, and he took a step closer to the couple. By instinct, Colin angled himself in front of Penelope as her grip on his hand tightened.

He was just a few feet away from them when he finally spoke, a voice so low that it was barely audible over the murmurs. “And I’d recommend that you consider taking yourself and that bitch of a wife,” his eyes darted to Penelope for a moment, “out of town.”

And it was this comment that wiped the smile completely off of Colin’s face, along with any attempt of levity.

It was as if a chill had passed over, one that was both icy and burning at the same time. He stiffened like a board, a wave of unmistakable anger coming over him. And when his words came, they were low and even, colder than anyone had ever thought possible from Colin Bridgerton.

“You would do well to avoid threatening my family, Cavender.”

Though there was a slight tinge of red on his face, Phillip Cavender did not retreat. Instead, he took another step forward. “And why is that, Bridgerton?”

Penelope could see the muscles in Colin’s jaw moving from where she was angled, could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. She’d seen him angry before, furious even, but this was different. This was so much more.

She wasn’t frightened, not by Colin nor by the man standing across from them. Fright was not why she wanted this to stop.

She didn’t want her husband’s anger to be made into a form of entertainment at a party. For him to have to serve the role of gallant protector whenever she upset someone. So, she attempted to silently will him to calm down, running a featherlight thumb across the surface of his hand.

But Colin wanted to finish what they’d started and instead let go of her and took his own step forward, almost shielding her completely.

“I think we all know that I have more than enough relatives to run you out of town,” he said, eyes locked on Cavender.

There was a flash of worry that crossed his face, but it was quickly forced away by a snort. “Is that meant to scare me? The threat of a duke and a viscount?”

Colin didn’t falter. Instead, his head tilted as he considered the man, considered the shaking fingers and the smell of alcohol on his breath. He’d never been a violent man by nature, even having grown up with two older brothers. He preferred words when he fought, and they almost always gave him his victories. He wasn’t opposed to physical repercussions, but he knew that a private gathering was not the place or time.

He looked Cavender directly in the eyes, speaking in a low, clear voice. “I will ensure that you are ruined, that is a promise.”

And because he couldn’t help himself, “And if that is not enough, be rest assured that we will do worse. My only qualm in doing it myself is that my brother would be disappointed he wasn’t able to help.”

There was a silence in the room that followed as Cavender glowered at him. His eyes darkened in fury as his face reddened, trying to figure out how far Colin could really go.

But there was something in Colin’s threat that didn’t allow for any consideration that he might have been exaggerating. Perhaps it was the definitive and resolute tone in his voice, or the strength behind his gaze, or the tight set of his jaw.

Or perhaps it was because Colin Bridgerton wasn’t the type to quicken to anger. Wasn’t the type to have a temper or even hint at unpleasantry.

Whatever it was, it made Cavender finally break eye contact and step back. He turned away, taking another large swig of port.

Colin could hear the pounding in his ears as he looked at the pathetic man, anger still coursing through him. But then he felt a warm hand lace through his, and the red glare of the world began melting away. Penelope was whispering something, her voice calm and soothing. He squeezed her hand in understanding but kept his gaze on Cavender.

There was a familiar casualness when Colin spoke this time, but it was threaded with venom. “Do not forget what I’ve said.”

And with that, he turned to his wife and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Good night,” Penelope nodded to the remainder of the crowd, who finally had the decency to look away.

A few minutes later, when they were finally in a carriage returning to their home, Penelope sighed. With her eyes glued to her skirts, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Colin.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, taking in a deep inhale of breath.

He’d been scared after the reveal of her identity, terrified even. There were evenings where he’d lie awake in bed and imagine all of the awful things that could happen to the person who was his entire world. And though they never spoke of such worries aloud, he knew that she was just as aware as he was.

Italy had been like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. There, no one cared or knew, and the only threat they faced was the harsh sun.

And then Penelope was pregnant, and a new light was added to his life, one that shifted his fears elsewhere.

Then they became a family of three, and Colin was thrilled. He still worried, of course, but his joy outweighed everything else.

Old wounds had been reopened in the recent weeks, that was for certain. But it did not mean that he blamed Penelope for them.

So, Colin pulled her into his side and tucked her head under his chin. “You have nothing to apologize for. We both agreed that you did the right thing.”

For a few moments, she said nothing, just listened to the sound of his heartbeat and the wheels on cobblestones. And though he couldn’t see her, Colin could sense in the silence that she was crying. Wordlessly, he handed her a handkerchief.

Penelope dabbed at her eyes a few times before leaning back to look at him. “I didn’t want to force you into this position.”

He smiled and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin. “I watch you every day with nothing but awe, Penelope. I love you, I’m proud of you. And I will gladly stand by you through anything.”

Her eyes moved slowly as they crossed his face, searching for any hesitance. There was none, not even a hint of resistance.

Instead, there was so much love that it overwhelmed her, struck her with the same shock that it had years before. It was a love that mirrored her own, a fierce desire to protect and support another with as much reverence as one did for themself. It was one that never faltered even in the most difficult of times.

Her eyes were glossy when her hand reached up to meet his, and the smile on her lips was weak but true. “I love you so much. And I can’t believe that I’ve become so lucky in my life to have you by my side.”

And with that, they settled into their drive home, sharing whispered conversations and watery chuckles.

They still had a long road ahead of them, of that they were sure. But they knew that they would cross it together.

[dontbipanicjonsa]

Dutiful Sansa Stark

Plus some extra stuff about perceptions and POV traps

Read under the cut-

Tyrion 

"No," Sansa said at once. "You . . . you are kind to offer, but . . . there are no devotions, my lord. No priests or songs or candles. Only trees, and silent prayer. You would be bored."

"No doubt you're right." She knows me better than I thought. "Though the sound of rustling leaves might be a pleasant change from some septon droning on about the seven aspects of grace." Tyrion waved her off. "I won't intrude. Dress warmly, my lady, the wind is brisk out there."

He was tempted to ask what she prayed for, but Sansa was so dutiful she might actually tell him, and he didn't think he wanted to know.

xxx

He wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now. Flinch away, most likely. Or be brave and suffer through it, as was her duty. She is nothing if not dutiful, this wife of mine. If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight, she would suffer that dutifully as well, and weep no more than she had to.

Littlefinger

A true daughter would not refuse her sire a kiss, so Alayne went to him and kissed him, a quick dry peck upon the cheek, and just as quickly stepped away.

"How . . . dutiful." Littlefinger smiled with his mouth, but not his eyes.

xxx

She hugged him dutifully and kissed him on the cheek. "I am sorry to intrude, Father. No one told me you had company."

"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had."

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

That's a lot of dutiful.

On the surface it seems like these two situations- one with Tyrion and one with LF- parallel each other; creepy, older men interested in Sansa think she's too 'dutiful' because she suffers through their attentions. However, when we dig deeper it becomes clear that the two situations actually contrast in subtle ways.

Tyrion

Tyrion calls her dutiful, but what duty is she fulfilling? She actually fails to fulfil her biggest duty to him i.e. having his babies (ew).

Or rather, she refuses to do her duty to him.

"On my honor as a Lannister," the Imp said, "I will not touch you until you want me to."

It took all the courage that was in her to look in those mismatched eyes and say, "And if I never want you to, my lord?"

His mouth jerked as if she had slapped him. "Never?"

Cue me falling ever deeper in love

This is a powerful scene. Tyrion is willing to give her an inch, but she goes and takes a mile. She could have just said "yes, I'll let you know when I want you" and then never let him know, but instead she said that. His plan was to postpone the consummation, but now she’s taken the opportunity to tell him that if she had her way, they would never consummate their marriage. He can still go through with it, but with this one statement (knowingly or unknowingly) she's put the onus of choice on him. He can still touch her, he can still consummate the marriage- but Sansa will never want him to. It’s still her ‘duty’ to suffer through it, but now any future sexual contact between them is undoubtedly in the non-con category.

That doesn't sound like Sansa is just reluctant to do her duty, it sounds like she's rejecting it.

In fact, Sansa is basically never shown to think about her 'duties' as his wife. Eating lunch with him may be her 'duty', but she isn't doing it for that reason. She's doing it because what other choice does she have?

Honestly I'm not sure where he even gets the idea that she's oh-so-dutiful, because as far as I can tell, she's really just doing the bare minimum she can get away with doing as his political-prisoner-child-bride.

Sansa does not, for a single second, give a flying fuck about her duty to Tyrion and I love her for it.

And yet, Tyrion's my-dutiful-wife false belief is what allows her to get away with planning her escape. Tyrion fails to be suspicious of her even when he absolutely should be re: that first quote.

So-

Tyrion likes to think Sansa is dutiful (for some reason).

Sansa is not dutiful.

Sansa doesn't seem to be aware that Tyrion thinks she is, but it works to her advantage nevertheless.

Littlefinger

Now in Littlefinger's case she really is playing the dutiful daughter.

This time, fulfilling her 'duty' as his daughter is in her best interest, because it acts as an excuse to avoid what he really wants from her. It's basically the reverse of the Tyrion Situation.

So-

Littlefinger thinks Sansa is dutiful because she is.

She's acting dutiful on purpose (to diffuse his sexual attraction (ew) towards her).

Clearly, it's working to her advantage.

Now, onto the extra stuff-

We have this-

Dontos chuckled. "My Jonquil's a clever girl, isn't she?"

"Joffrey and his mother say I'm stupid."

"Let them. You're safer that way, sweetling.

xxx

"The g-g-godswood, my lord," she said, not daring to lie. "Praying . . . praying for my father, and . . . for the king, praying that he'd not be hurt."

"Think I'm so drunk that I'd believe that?" He let go his grip on her arm, swaying slightly as he stood, stripes of light and darkness falling across his terrible burnt face. "You look almost a woman . . . face, teats, and you're taller too, almost . . . ah, you're still a stupid little bird, aren't you?

xxx

"There's to be so much, my lord. I have a little tummy." She fiddled nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his Tyrell queen.

Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place? Tyrion frowned. Even a child should have better sense.

Sansa goes under the radar so well in KL because people think she's too stupid to do anything. Again, we see Tyrion, an overall smart guy, fail to be suspicious of Sansa's very suspicious behavior nevermind that she IS a child you asshole because he thinks she's stupid.

So-

People think Sansa is stupid

She's not stupid. We also don't see Sansa actively encouraging that perception, which makes sense because-

she doesn't need to. They do that all by themselves and

she's too busy believing she really is stupid, poor kid

3. It works to her advantage anyway.

Which leads me to-

"I forgot, you've been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head."

xxx

"Your Grace has forgotten the Lady Sansa," said Pycelle.

The queen bristled. "I most certainly have not forgotten that little she-wolf."

xxx

"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws."

So-

People thinking Sansa murdered Joffrey with her witchy wolf ways.

She didn't.

???

I am SO looking forward to see where this goes.

More extra stuff-

This entire post grew out of me obsessing over this post.

It got me thinking that out of the six core characters, Sansa is the most observed one. We see her in real time through the chapters of other POV characters the most. I counted. My count can be up or down by about one or two chapters, but I have Sansa pegged at around 15 chapters, followed by Tyrion at 11, then A*ya (around 9), then Jon (around 8), then Bran (4), and then D*ny (0). This is exacerbated by the fact that Sansa has some of the least number of POV chapters of the 'core six'. This means that-

We see Sansa more (or at more than others) from other POVs than her own. In other words, we get to be in Sansa's head less and in other characters' head thinking about her more (unlike most other main characters).

This plays a BIG ROLE in her POV trap, which is pretty much the opposite of D*ny's POV trap in terms of both what it is hiding and how

Perception and reality play a very obvious and direct part in Sansa's story, both her own perceptions and others' perceptions of her.

The Vale arc changes everything though. Now suddenly-

She's surrounded by an entirely new cast of people

She's the only POV character in the location

She has an entirely new identity with none of the same pre-conceived biases attached (though there sure are other pre-conceived biases that go with her identity)

This has happened with other characters as well (Tyrion in ADWD, Arya in every other book), but the impact it has on our perception of her is unique. It's basically reversing everything her POV trap was previously built on.

Now, she is her own worst critic. Now, the thoughts that other POV characters have of her (Tyrion, Cersei) are increasingly muddled. Is she a murderous sorcerer, or a stupid little girl? Was she dutiful, or a scheming traitor? The correct answer is-

she was none of those things. Everyone is just....trapped by their own PoV?

[mandoalorian]

hi can i get a dio one shot where his gf is kinda little miss perfect like she always listens and never breaks the rules and her parents are always pressuring her to do really good but as she keeps hanging out with him and his friends she becomes more of her own person and she comes out of her shell more and starts liking the things he likes and maybe she stands up to her parents after they say he’s a bad influence for her ???

The Bet [Dio x F!Reader]

Author's note: Anon asked for a one shot but they’re getting a three part mini-series instead. 🖤 this is for all my lovely nonnies who have been asking me to write for Dio.

Warnings: mention of food and drink, brief mention of alcoholism, cigarettes etc

Word count: 2000

Masterlist

"You've been staring at her all day," Raven groaned, stabbing a curly fry into her pot of ketchup and shoving it in her mouth. "Just go talk to her."

Dio shuffled around uncomfortably. "I can't." he frowned, narrowing his eyes in your direction. There you were, sat at the cafeteria table alone, your head deep in a book. You'd left your lunch to one side, hoping to get back to it once you finished this chapter.

"Aw, does Dio have a crush?" Raven cooed teasingly, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Shut up," Dio retorted quickly. "You have ketchup around your mouth."

Raven's smile quickly faded as she pulled out a compact mirror to check her appearance. Dio went back to watching you. You were beautiful, and he just didn't understand how the world around you seemed to ignore you. He could somewhat relate. Although he had his group of friends, he still felt like an outcast. But you were always alone, your head in the clouds or stuck in some book. As far as he saw, you didn't even have friends. You spent your days cooped up in the academic library, studying or doing your homework.

"Pointless staring," Ash rolled his eyes, but Dio just swallowed, trying to dismiss his comment. "You could never get a girl like her."

Dio finally turned to face Ash, and even flicked a glance towards Raven who was still wiping ketchup from the corner of her lip, about to reapply her black lipstick. "I could get any damn girl I want." Dio folded his arms across his chest.

Ash hummed, scrunching up his nose. "Sure kid, whatever. If that's what you chose to believe."

Dio scoffed incredulously and leaned over the table. "You tell him Raven! I could get any girl!" 

Raven didn't look up from her mirror once. "Sounds like he's challenging you, Dio."

"Is that true?" Dio hissed. "You're challenging me?" his voice was sour.

Ash nodded his head and picked up a curly fry from Raven's plate. "We're all still up for getting wasted in the park tonight, right? Dio, if you can get ‘little miss perfect’ over there to join us, I'll take back what I said."

"That's ridiculous," Dio shook his head. "She's not gonna come with us. Sometimes I don't even know why I bother going with you guys," Dio looked back over to you— you really were little miss perfect; with the perfect smile and glistening eyes. When Dio looked at you, it was like nothing else mattered. The whole world turned into a blur, only, he could just about make out Ash's chuckle in the background. "Fine. I'll do it." Dio frowned. He knew if he didn't at least give it a shot (or better yet, succeed), he'd never hear the end of it from Ash and Raven.

Dio threw the crust of his sandwich back down on his plate and pushed his tray to one side before standing up. He brushed down his outfit, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable before speaking to you, and sauntered towards you. He could practically feel Ash and Raven's eyes burning into his back from the other side of the cafeteria.

"Hey," Dio greeted, clearing his throat and sliding down on the unoccupied seat across from you. You looked up from your book and your eyes met with his. "I'm Dio— I'm uh, I'm in your science class and math class. You might not know me but-"

"Trust me, I know you." you shot back before you could even let him finish. You turned a page in your book and pretended to seem uninterested. It was difficult though, because the mysterious boy with jet black hair and pierced ears was for some reason giving you the time of day. You— out of all people. You usually had good intuition and you felt in your heart that there was something not right about this interaction.

"What are you reading?" Dio asked curiously, peeking over to try and get a glance of the pages.

"1984." You mumbled back.

"Oh I love that book!" Dio exclaimed with a grin as he kicked his feet back on the table, knocking your dinner tray slightly. Now that comment made you look at him.

"You've read 1984?" you raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Well, read… watched the movie… same thing really," Dio shrugged and you couldn't help but giggle. He was adorable— and slightly dorky which was something you hadn't expected at all. "It's about how there's someone always watching you…"

"Yep," you nodded in affirmation and pointed towards the table where Dio was once sat at. "Kinda like how your friends have been staring us out since you came over." you waved at them awkwardly. Raven avoided eye contact, looking back down into her bowl of curly fries.

"Shit, I'm sorry about them," Dio sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "The truth is, Ash bet I couldn't pick you up."

"Why would he bet that?" You asked, sliding your bookmark into the novel and placing it down on the table. You suddenly felt vulnerable but at least Dio was being honest with you.

"Because, I can't stop thinking about you," Dio shrugged helplessly. "And I want to get to know you better. Would- would you be opposed to that?"

You thought for a moment, and then shook your head. Elated, Dio smiled and scrawled down his phone number on one of your napkins. No person had ever shown you any interest, and now one of the school's most intimidating guys wanted to ‘get to know you better’? You'd be foolish to lie to yourself anymore and pretend like this wasn't something you'd thought about before. You'd caught glimpses of him at the back of class, you'd try to repress a smile every time he quipped a sarcastic comment back at a teacher or distracted the class from their work.

He wasn't the type of guy you ever imagined ending up with, but you were still intrigued by his enigma. Dio might've only recognised you from science and math class recently, but you'd known him since preschool. Before he dyed his hair, got all those tattoos and piercings. He even used to live in your neighbourhood, before his dad died and he had to move. You'd heard stories about him since then, about how he'd ‘gone off the rails’. But he still seemed nice enough. Truthful, and he still had that sparkle in his chocolate coloured eyes that you remembered from when he shared the sandpit with you in elementary.

The napkin with his number on weighed you down until you got home. You placed it on your dressing table and sat down. It was staring at you— begging for you to call. You sighed, giving into the temptation and rang the number. After three rings, Dio answered.

"Hey, it's me." you said quietly, nervously biting your lower lip.

"Oh hey! I'm so glad to hear from you. I was beginning to get afraid that you wouldn't call." Dio admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You overheard some chattering in the background.

"Are you busy?" you wondered out loud.

"I'm just with Ash and Raven. We're having a few beers in the park. You're more than welcome to join us."

You winced at the thought of joining them for beers in the park. You'd barely took a sip of champagne at your aunt's wedding, nevermind drinking bottles of beer with the most intimidating group of teenagers in the whole town.

"Oh I don't know Dio…" you mumbled.

"Hey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. It'll just be nice to have your company— and I promise, we don't bite." you considered his words and sighed.

"Okay Dio, I'll be there in half an hour. Text me the address."

"Got it," Dio grinned. "See you soon."

Ash chuckled as Dio hung up the phone. "We don't bite?" Ash quoted Dio with a smirk. "Oh, she's really that innocent huh?"

"I want you both to behave," Dio warned. "Don't scare her away." 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you should change your outfit to something maybe a little more alternative. You wanted to fit in with Dio and his friends, after all. However, you remembered Dio has come to you, interested in you just the way you were. And you swore that you weren't going to change yourself for anyone. You combed through your hair and grabbed your favourite pink lip gloss— one that you wore only on special occasions.

Your mother came in just as you were applying it. "And where do you think you're going?" she snarled, raising an eyebrow as you puckered your lips.

"Out with some friends." you shrugged nonchalently.

"What friends?" she questioned you further, her voice was highly strung and she stood with a hand on her hip.

"You remember Shane Morrissey from preschool?" you asked nervously. "Well- he goes by Dio now, and-"

"No." your mother narrowed her eyes. "That boy is nothing but trouble. Ever since his dad died and he and his mother got evicted, I've heard that he's turned to a life of crime. A petty thief. And his mother? An alcoholic."

You scowled at your mother's condescending and judgemental attitude. "You don't know him." you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And I'm not sure you know him either." your mother snapped back.

"I'm going whether you like it or not," you huffed, standing up and grabbing your jacket. "You can't shelter me your whole life." 

Before your mother could even reply, you bolted out the house and ran down the street. Luckily, it wasn't too cold, and the address to the park was only a ten minute walk from your home. You spotted Dio, Raven and Ash almost immediately. The trio were sitting on a small grassy patch.

You sat next to Dio and tried to engage in conversation, although you weren't really familiar with the things they were talking about. Dio helped you out though, taking his time to explain things so you understood and he encouraged you to talk about your own hobbies and interests. The second Raven tried to peer pressure you into drinking, you politely declined and Dio whisked you away from them. "Are you uncomfortable?" he asked you in private.

"No, I'm okay, I think," you nodded your head in affirmation. You really didn't want to go home— you were having such a good time with Dio.

"Because if it's too much…" Dio trailed off. "Maybe we can go back to my place?" he suggested. "I know Ash and Raven can be intense. So it would be just us."

Your gaze flicked back to Ash and Raven who were sharing a cigarette and you smiled. "Yeah, okay," you agreed. "I'd like that."

"Good," Dio replied softly. "Let's go then."

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[woman-loving]

Lesbian Unintelligibility in Pre-1989 Poland

Selection from ""No one talked about it": The Paradoxes of Lesbian Identity in pre-1989 Poland, by Magdalena Staroszczyk, in Queers in State Socialism: Cruising 1970s Poland, eds. Tomasz Basiuk and Jędrzej Burszta, 2021

The question of lesbian visibility is pertinent today because of the limited number of lesbian-oriented activist events and cultural representations. But it presents a major methodological problem when looking at the past. That problem lies in an almost complete lack of historical sources, something partly mended with oral history interviews, but also in an epistemological dilemma. How can we talk about lesbians when they did not exist as a recognizable category? What did their (supposed) non-existence mean? And should we even call those who (supposedly) did not exist “lesbians”?

To illustrate this problem, let me begin with excerpts from an interview I conducted for the CRUSEV project [a study of queer cultures in the 1970s]. My interlocutor is a lesbian woman born in the 1950s, who lived in Cracow most of her life:

“To this very day I have a problem with my brothers, as I cannot talk to them about this. They just won’t do it, I would like to talk, but. . . . They have this problem, they lace up their mouths when any reference is made to this topic, because they were raised in that reality [when] no one talked about it. It was a taboo. It still is. ... I was so weak, unable to take initiative, lacking a concept of my own life—all this testifies to the oppression of homosexual persons, who do not know how to live, have no support from [others], no information or knowledge learned at school, or from a psychologist. What did I do? I searched in encyclopaedias for the single entry, “homosexuality.” What did I learn? That I was a pervert. What did it do to me? It only hurt me, no? Q: Was the word lesbian in use? Only as a slur. Even my mother used it as an offensive word. When she finally figured out my orientation, she said the word a few times. With hatred. Hissing the word at me.”

The woman offers shocking testimony of intense and persistent hostility towards a family member—sister, daughter—who happens to be a lesbian. The brothers and the mother are so profoundly unable to accept her sexuality that they cannot speak about it at all, least of all rationally. The taboo has remained firmly in place for decades. How was it maintained? And, perhaps more importantly, how do we access the emotional reality that it caused? The quotes all highlight the theme of language, silence, and something unspeakable. Tabooization implies a gap in representation, and the appropriate word cannot be spoken but merely hissed out with hatred.

Popular discourse and academic literature alike address this problem under the rubric of “lesbian invisibility” (Mizielińska 2001). I put forward a different conceptual frame, proposing to address the question of lesbian identity in pre-1989 Poland not in terms of visibility versus invisibility, but instead in terms of cultural intelligibility versus unintelligibility. The former concepts, which have a rich history in discussions of pre-emancipatory lesbian experience, presume an already existing identity that is self-evident to the person in question. They assume the existence of a person who thinks of herself as a lesbian. One then proceeds to ask whether or not this lesbian was visible as such to others, that is, whether others viewed her as the lesbian she knew she was. Another assumption behind this framing is that the woman in question wished to be visible although this desired visibility had been denied her. These are some of the essentializing assumptions inscribed in the concept of (in)visibility. Their limitation is that they only allow us to ask whether or not the lesbian is seen for who she feels she is and wishes to be seen by others.

By contrast, (un)intelligibility looks first to the social construction of identity, especially to the constitutive role of language. To think in those terms is to ask under what conditions same-sex desire between women is culturally legible as constitutive of an identity. So, instead of asking if people saw lesbians for who they really were, we will try to understand the specific epistemic conditions which made some women socially recognizable to others, and also to themselves, as “lesbians.” This use of the concept “intelligibility” is analogous to its use by Judith Butler in Gender Trouble, as she explains why gender conformity is key to successful personhood[...].

For Butler, cultural intelligibility is thus an aspect of the social norm, as it corresponds to “a normative ideal.” It is one of the conditions of coherence and continuity requisite for successful personhood. In a similar vein, to say that lesbians in the People’s Republic of Poland were not culturally intelligible is of course not to claim that there were no women engaged in same-sex romantic and erotic relationships—such a conclusion would be absurd, as well as untrue. It is, rather, to suggest that “lesbian” was not a category of personhood available or, for that matter, desirable to many nonheteronormative women. The word was not in common use and it did not signify to them the sort of person they felt they were. Nor was another word readily available, as interlocutors’ frequent periphrases strongly suggest, for example, “I cannot talk to them about this. ... They ... lace up their mouths when any reference is made to this topic” (my emphases).

Interviews conducted with women for the CRUSEV project are filled with pain due to rejection. So are the interviews conducted by Anna Laszuk, whose Dziewczyny, wyjdźcie z szafy (Come Out of the Closet, Girls! 2006 ) was a pioneering collection of herstories which gave voice to non-heteronormative Polish women of different ages, including those who remember the pre-1989 era. Lesbian unintelligibility is arguably a major theme in the collection. The pain caused by the sense of not belonging expressed by many illustrates that being unintelligible can be harmful. At the same time, unintelligibility had some practical advantages. The main among them was relative safety in a profoundly heteronormative society. As long as things went unnamed, a women-loving woman was not in danger of stigmatization or social ostracism.

Basia, born in 1939 and thus the oldest among Laszuk’s interviewees, offers a reassuring narrative in which unintelligibility has a positive valence:

“I cannot say a bad word about my parents. They knew but they did not comment. . . . My parents never asked me personal questions, never exerted any kind of pressure on me to get married. They were people of great culture, very understanding, and they quite simply loved me. They would meet my various girlfriends, but these were never referred to as anything but “friends” (przyjaciółki). Girls had it much easier than boys because intimacy between girls was generally accepted. Nobody was surprised that I showed up with a woman, invited her home, held her hand, or that we went on trips together.” (Laszuk 2006, 27)

The gap between visceral knowing and the impossibility of naming is especially striking in this passage. The parents “knew” and Basia knew that they knew, but they did not comment, ask questions, or make demands, and Basia clearly appreciates their silence as a favour. To her, it was a form of politeness, discreetness, perhaps even protectiveness. The silence was, in fact, a form of affectionate communication: “they quite simply loved me.”

Another of Laszuk’s interviewees is Nina, born around 1945 and 60 years old at the time of the interview. With a certain nostalgia, Nina recalls the days when certain things were left unnamed, suggesting that there is erotic potential in the unintelligibility of women’s desire. Laszuk summarizes her views:

“Nina claims that those times certainly carried a certain charm: erotic relationships between women, veiled with understatement and secrecy, had a lot of beauty to them. Clandestine looks were exchanged above the heads of people who remained unaware of their meaning, as women understood each other with half a gesture, between words. Nowadays, everything has a name, everything is direct.” (Laszuk 2006, 33)

A similar equation between secrecy and eroticism is drawn by the much younger Izabela Filipiak, trailblazing author of Polish feminist fiction in the 1990s and the very first woman in Poland to publicly come out as lesbian, in an interview for the Polish edition of Cosmopolitan in 1998. Six years later, Filipiak suggested a link between things remaining unnamed and erotic pleasure, and admitted to a certain nostalgia for this pre-emancipatory formula of lesbian (non)identity. Her avowed motivation was not the fear of stigmatization but a desire for erotic intensity:

“When love becomes passion in which I lose myself, I stop calculating, stop comparing, no longer anchor it in social relations, or some norm. I simply immerse myself in passion. My feelings condition and justify everything that happens from that point on. I do not reflect upon myself nor dwell on stigma because my feeling is so pure that it burns through and clears away everything that might attach to me as a woman who loves women.” (Kulpa and Warkocki 2004)

Filipiak acknowledges the contemporary, “postmodern” (her word) lesbian identity which requires activism and entails enumerating various kinds of discrimination. But paradoxically—considering that she is the first public lesbian in Poland—she speaks with much more enthusiasm about the “modernist lesbians” described by Baudelaire:

“They chose the path of passion. Secrecy and passion. Of course, their passion becomes a form of consent to remain secret, to stay invisible to others, but this is not unambivalent. I once talked to such an “oldtimer” who lived her entire life in just that way and she protested very strongly when I made a remark about hiding. Because, she says, she did not hide anything, she drove all around the city with her beloved and, of course, everyone knew. Yes, everyone knew, but nobody remembers it now, there is no trace of all that.” (Kulpa and Warkocki 2004)

Cultural unintelligibility causes the gap between “everyone knew” and “nobody remembers” but it is also the source of excitement and pleasure. For Filipiak’s “old-timer” and her predecessors, Baudelaire’s modernist lesbians, the evasion, or rejection, of identity and the maintaining of secrecy is the path of passion. Crucially, these disavowals of identity mobilize a discourse of freedom rather than hiding, entrapment, or staying in the closet. The lack of a name is interpreted as an unmooring from language and a liberation from its norms.

Needless to say, cultural unintelligibility may also lead to profound torment and self-hatred. In the concept of nationhood generated by nationalists and by the Catholic Church in Poland, lesbians (seen stereotypically) are double outsiders whose exclusion from language is vital.[1] A repentant homosexual woman named Katarzyna offers her testimony in a Catholic self-help manual addressing those who wish to be cured of homosexuality. (It is irrelevant for my purpose whether the testimony is authentic; my interest is in the discursive construction of lesbian identity as literally impossible and nonexistent.) Katarzyna speaks about her search for love, her profound sense of guilt and her disgust with herself. The word “lesbian” is never used; her homosexuality is framed as confusion and as straying from her true desire for God. The origin of the pain is the woman’s unintelligibility to herself:

“Only I knew how much despair there was in my life on account of being different. First, there was the sense of being torn apart when I realized how different my desires were from the appearance of my body. Despite the storm of homosexual desire, I was still a woman. Then, the question: What to do with myself? How to live?” (Huk 1996, 121)

A woman cannot love other women—the subject knows this. We can speculate that her knowledge is due to her Catholic upbringing; she has internalized the teaching that homosexuality is a sin, and thus untrue and not real. The logic of the confession is overdetermined: the only way for her to become intelligible to herself is to abandon same-sex desire and turn to God, and through him to men. Church language thus frames homosexuality as chaos: it is a disordered space where no appropriate language can obtain. Within this frame, unintelligibility is anything but erotic. It is rather an instrument of shaming and, once internalized, a symptom of shame.

For many, the experience of unintelligibility is moored in intense heteronormativity, without regard to Church teachings or the language of national belonging. Struggling with the choice between social intelligibility available to straights and leading an authentic life outside the realm of intelligibility, one CRUSEV interlocutor, aged 67, describes her youth in 1960s and 1970s:

“I always knew I was a lesbian ... and if I am one, then I will be one. Yes, in that sense. And not to live the life of a married woman, mother and so on. This life wasn’t my life at all. However, as I said, it was fine in an external sense. So calm and well-ordered: a husband, nice children, everything, everything. But it was external, and my life was not my life at all, it wasn’t me.”

She thus underscores her internal sense of dissonance, a felt incompatibility with the social role she was playing. The role model of a wife and mother was available to her, but a lesbian role model was not.

The discomfort felt at the unavailability of a role model may have had different consequences. Another CRUSEV interviewee, aged 62, describes her impulse to change her life so as to authentically experience her feelings for another woman, in contrast to that woman’s ex:

“She visited me a few times, and it was enough that I wrote something, anything ... [and] she would get on the train and travel across the country. There were no telephones then, during martial law. Regardless of anything, she would be there. And at one point I realized that I ... damn, I loved her. ... She broke up with her previous girlfriend very violently—this may interest you—because it turned out that the girl was so terribly afraid of being exposed and of some unimaginable consequences that she simply ran away.”

The fear of exposure, critically addressed by the interlocutor, was nonetheless something she, too, experienced. She goes on to speak of “hiding a secret” and “stifling” her emotions.

A concern with leading an inauthentic life resurfaces in the account of the afore-quoted woman, aged 67:

“I couldn’t reveal my secret to anyone. The only person who knew was my friend in Cracow. I led such a double life, I mean. ... It is difficult to say if this was a life, because it was as if I had my inner spirituality and my inner world, entirely secret, but outside I behaved like all the other girls, so I went out with some boys. ... It was always deeply suppressed by me and I was always fighting with myself. I mean, I fell in love [with women] and did everything to fall out of love [laughter]. On and on again.”

Her anxiety translates into self-pathologizing behaviour:

“In 1971 I received my high school diploma and I was already . . . in a relationship of some years with my high school girlfriend. . . . But because we both thought we were abnormal, perverted or something, somehow we wanted to be cured, and so she was going to college to Cracow, and I to Poznań. We engaged in geographic therapy, so to speak.”

The desire to “be cured” from homosexuality recurs in a number of interviews. Sometimes it has a factual dimension, as interlocutors describe having undergone psychotherapy and even reparative therapy—of course, to no avail.

Others decide to have a relationship with a woman after years spent in relationships with men. Referring to her female partner of 25 years, who had previously been married to a man, one of my interlocutors suggests that her partner had been disavowing her homosexual desires for many years before the two women’s relationship began: “the truth is that H. had struggled with it for more than 20 years and she was probably not sure what was going on.” Despite this presumed initial confusion, the women’s relationship had already lasted for more than 25 years at the time I conducted the interview.

Recognizing one’s homosexual desires did not necessarily have to be difficult or shocking. It was not for this woman, aged 66 at the time of the interview:

“It was obvious to me. I didn’t, no, no, I didn’t suppress it, I knew that [I was going], “Oh, such a nice girl, I like this one, with this one I want to be close, with that one I want to talk longer, with that one I want to spend time, with that one I want, for example, to embrace her neck or grab her hand”.”

Rather, what came as a shock was the unavailability of any social role or language corresponding to this felt desire that came as a shock. The woman continues:

“It turned out that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, that I couldn’t tell anyone. I realized this when I grew up and watched my surroundings, family, friends, society. I saw that this topic was not there! If it’s not there, how can I get it out of myself? I wasn’t so brave.”

The tabooization of homosexuality—its unintelligibility—is a recurring thread in these accounts; what varies is the extent to which it marred the subjects’ self-perception.

[darling-i-read-it]

The Number of the Beast Is 666...

3x12

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, guns, pregnancy, burning, canniablism

Author’s Note: Second to last episode. I’m in my feels. I love this show so much. I hope you guys enjoy!

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary: The FBI enlists the help of Dr. Fredrick Chilton in hope of drawing Francis Dolarhyde into an ambush; Will's empathy for Dolarhyde impacts his psyche.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​

(not my gif) 

Will sat across from Bedelia. She had her legs crossed, her stance closed. She would likely not open up to him here, not in this space. It felt too much like a therapy session for his taste. You were healing quickly but you weren’t able to make it to this mock session. Instead, Bedelia was curious to know how Will was taking this.

“I look at my wife and I see her dead. I see Mrs. Leads and Mrs. Jacobi lying where Y/N should be,” he said, his voice bitter. Bedelia nodded slowly.

“Do you see yourself killing her?” she questioned. Will rose his chin up at the accusation. 

“No. I see myself killing the rest of them,” his voice lost some confidence as he spoke that but he quickly regained it, “but not her.”

“It’s hard to predict when brittle materials will break. Hannibal gave you three years to build a family and a life, confidence he’d find a way to take them from you,” Bedelia stated. 

“So you know?” he asked. She shrugged.

“I guessed.” Bedelia thought about you as a mother. It seemed like such a foregin way to describe you but not exactly wrong. “Hannibal wants to take her from you because he couldn’t have her.” 

Will raised an eyebrow.

“Alternatively,” he suggested, “I don’t think Hannibal knew that it was going to be Y/N.” 

“But he wants her. Aggression can be effective means of maintaining order in a relationship. Which relationship that is is debatable.” Will adjusted his seating. 

“What’s he going to take from you?” he asked.

“Is it important to you that he take something from me?” she questioned.

“Hannibal has agency in the world.”

“Hannibal has no intention of seeing me dead by any other hand than his own, and only then if he can eat me. He’s in no position to eat me now,” she said smoothly. He nodded in agreement. 

“If you play, you pay.” 

“You’ve paid dearly. As has your wife. That knowledge will lie in the skin forever.” She thought about that for a moment. “It excites him to see you marked in this particular way.” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think?” 

Will studied her, amused and almost annoyed by her psychiatric games. He played this enough with Hannibal.

“Bluebeard’s wife. Secrets you’re not to know, yet sworn to keep,” he said. Bedelia raised her chin and shook her head, ever so slightly.

“I was not Bluebeard’s wife, I was your wife’s stand in.” She paused. “But if I was, I would’ve preferred to be the last.” 

Will considered this. He thought about you. He was away from you and that seemed nearly illegal. You and him had always been together. But then he thought of Hannibal. He thought of you and Hannibal. He thought of the three of you. His mind slowed for a moment. 

“Is Hannibal…in love..with me?” he asked. Bedelia smiled.

“Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you and find nourishment in the very sight of you? Yes. But you are not just you. You come with Y/N Graham as well.” She reminisced on the days before Florence for a minute. Seemed like ages ago. “When Hannibal would hear the two of you bunched together like that he got irked, like his mind could only comprehend his want for one of you at a time. And then, as time went on, I think he realized that you came together. He could have both of you. The Grahams.” Will took this at face value. In a way, it was something he had always known. “But does she ache for him? Do you?” Will did not answer. He just stared. Bedelia went on. “Once you catch the Red Dragon, you can take your wife and your dogs home again. But will you go?” 

-

Hannibal stood across from Jack. They hated the presence of each other but stiffled it, for presence purposes. 

“Will’s thoughts are no more bound by fear or kindness than Milton’s were by physics. He is both free and damned to imagine anything.” 

“Now that he’s imagined the worst,” Jack stated. Hannibal nodded. 

“Like ducklings, we imprint on those ideas that grab our attention,” he explained.

“What’s got your attention? God, the Devil and the Great Red Dragon? I couldn’t believe you messed up with him Hannibal.” Hannibal ignored the last comment. That was an anger used to simmer for another time.

“Lest we forget the Lamb.”

“Will is the Lamb of God?” Jack asked. Hannibal thought about this for a moment. 

“Hide us from the wrath of the Lamb,” Hannibal settled on.

“Who’s ‘us’?” Jack asked. Hannibal smiled.

“You, me, his wife and the Great Red Dragon.” 

-

You walked with Alana down to Hannibal’s cage. Your shoulder ached and pained you but you ignored it as best you could. She looked at you steadily as you approached the door. 

“Have you spoken to Will?” she asked. You looked over to her.

“He doesn’t even know I’m out of the hospital. Which will hopefully not cause any panic,” you muttered offhandedly. You glanced over at her and she saw an ounce of fear in your eyes. 

“You know, when I found out I was pregnant it wasn’t exactly a shock. But I was scared. I knew the world my child was being brought into. But he’s okay now. It’ll all make sense, I swear it,” she promised. You gave her a sensitive smile and nodded softly. 

“You brought a Verger baby. I’m bringing a Graham baby who will hear conflicted stories of the great Hannibal the Cannibal. I worry that I will bring the baby here to see him, if he’s still here. And they will be raised with him in the back of their minds, always wondering what exactly went on between their parents and a serial murderer,” you whispered carefully. As you finished you turned to the door and opened it before she could say anything more. 

She let you walk through the doors alone. 

Hannibal was standing at the glass. It was like he knew you were coming but the look on his face betrayed him. He was surprised to see you. And even a bit relieved, you could tell. You walked up to just a few feet away from the glass and stopped.

“Your shoulder-”

“It’s okay,” you promised. You glanced down at the floor and noticed that all of his things were gone, including his desk and chair. Reminded of the days when Will was in prison, you tentatively sat down on the ground. 

  Hannibal watched you and stayed still for a moment. Then he sat down in front of you on the ground. You smiled gently at the gesture.

“Will told you?” 

“Yes.” You looked into his eyes. You stared into them, deep into them.

“I have a feeling that you will not be here to meet them,” you stated. “I don’t know why. I just feel like something is bound to go wrong. We will catch the Dragon and then we will go home and nothing will be the same.” Hannibal watched your emotions rise and fall. Your face that he yearned to touch. He almost reached his hand up to the glass.

“What will you name them?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet. But Will is never going to allow Hannibal, if that’s what you want,” you said laughing. 

“Pity,” he said and even he was laughing a bit. “I did not tell him to hurt you.” You nodded.

“I know.” You leaned forward. “What are you going to do about it then?” 

Hannibal smiled.

-

As you walked out of the room Alana gestured to you. Apparently Jack and Will were already in the building. 

You walked into the room with Alana and Will stood up.

“I was worri-”

“You never would have let me come if I told you. How’s Bedelia?” He shook his head and grabbed you by the waist, kissing you on the forehead. It conveyed his worry. He turned back to Jack.

“Eight people dead in a month. We can’t play a long game. I say we go for it. You know I know it’s the best way to bait him,” Jack said. He didn’t even glance twice at you. 

“You know Jack, if you had wanted me dead you didn’t have to go through all these lengths to make an attempt. Bringing Will, talking to Hannibal, calling the Dragon. It was all so extensive,” you sneered. Jack gave you a look.

“We don’t have time for this.” You slammed your hands on his Alana’s desk that he was standing behind. 

“It could have been me Jack. You would’ve had to go to my funeral and sit in the front row next to my grieving husband and wonder, ‘huh could I have done something to change this outcome’. And your mind will say no and so my husband would have sat there, thinking it was his fault, for the rest of his life!” you screamed. Jack was still. He had seen you like this once before. When he arrested Will. Alana watched from where she was standing by the window, a proud look on her face.

Will was more or less scared.

“And what do you do now? What do you do now?!” you asked. “Oh yes. The only logical solution. Send Will into the fire and bait the Dragon.” 

“Will suggested i-” he started but you gave him an ice cold look.

“I don’t care.” 

“We’ve fooled ourselves once into believing we were in control of what was happening. Are we still under that delusion?” Alana asked. You turned to her and Will did as well and as he did so he staggered. He had seen something in his head. 

“The Dragon has a certain abstract curiosity about me Y/N. All psychopaths are narcissists, they love to read about themselves. We should use Freddie.” You turned to him and he saw again whatever he had seen on Alana’s face. He grabbed your arm out of instinct. 

“I’m not letting you put yourself in harm's way.”

“We’re already in harm's way. Both of us.” 

“She would need to interview you,” you said. “Take your picture.”

“We’re in it now. Can’t go home as long as he’s loose. I really bad mouth the Red Dragon in Tattlecrime and then give him a shot at me.” You turned to Jack Crawford.

“If I had to choose, it would be you giving the interview. You risking your life. You.” 

-

You sat on a desk. Will stood just in front of you, his leg touching your knee. You had your fingers wrapped around the underneath of the desk as you looked over at Freddie Lounds where she sat. Chilton was in front of her, Alana and Jack elsewhere in the room. 

“There’s a strong bonding of aggressive and sexual drives that occurs in sadists at an early age,” Chilton said. 

“He's a vicious, perverted, sexual failure. An animal,” Will stated. You stared at Will and noticed that it had caught Chilton off too. You smiled a bit at the corners of your mouth. 

“The savage acts aimed primarily at the women, and performed in the presence of family, are clearly strikes at a maternal figure.” 

“The Tooth Fairy’s the product of an incestuous home.” Freddie scribbled this down aggressively, eating it all up.

“This is the child of a nightmare.” Those words hung in the air for a moment. Freddie pressed the stop button on her recording. 

“We need a key shot taken in your ‘Washington hideaway’,” Jack said. 

“Can I flip off the camera?” you asked.

“You’re not going to be in the picture,” Will chastised. You shrugged.

“I’d love something like you in a bathrobe, at the desk, poring over an artist’s conception of the Fairy,” Freddie said, holding up an artist concept drawing of Francis. You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ll stand by the window.”

“I don’t know, the bathrobe seemed compelling to me. Maybe I’ll pick up my first copy of Tattlecrime,” you said. Will gave you a look but you just smiled. Freddie seemed to like that you agreed with her.

“Make sure you can get the fountain and the Capitol dome behind me Freddie. The Red Dragon has to be able to find this place, if he wants to,” Will finished. Freddie nodded and walked over. “Would you like to be in the picture, Frederick?” 

-

Alana slid a package through Hannibal’s cage.

“May I open it privately?” he asked.

“You may not.” 

She looked down at it as he started to open it. The box fell open to reveal two lips, no longer attached to their owner. Hannibal contained his surprise and anger. He took one between his fingers and straightened his backs.

“As though presents would allow me to forgive him,” Hannibal muttered but still, he put the lips between his own and ate it.

-

You stared at the screen in front of you. On it was Frederick Chilton, notably restrained. Beside you stood Will and at his desk was Jack Crawford. 

“I have had a great privilege. I have seen with wonder and awe the strength of the Great Red Dragon. I lied about Him. All that was said was lies from Will Graham,” Chitlon said. You straighten your back. “He made me say them. I have blasphemed against the Dragon. Even so, the Dragon is merciful. He knows you made me lie, Will Graham. Because I was forced to lie, He will be more merciful to me than to you, Will Graham.” You hated this. Every fiber of your being hated this. You wanted to turn it off but you didn’t, you needed to see the end. “Reach behind you, Will Graham, and feel for the small knobs on the top of your pelvis. Feel your spine between them; that is the precise spot where the Dragon will snap your spine. There’s much for you to dread. From my own lips, you’ll learn a little more to dread.” 

“Turn it off, Jack,” Alana said and Jack nodded, turning it off. You felt your spine all of the sudden. You were aware it was there. You felt it being tugged by a phantom force and turned to your husband, shaking your head. He stumbled back into a chair, head in his hands. 

You sat in front of him and grabbed his hands. Your skin touched his face as he held your hands there, blocking his sight. You turned to Jack Crawford. If looks could kill…

-

Bedelia looked at you two. Back again, sitting together. Your shoulder slumped but otherwise seemingly unaffected. Whatever emotional tole this may have taken, you did not show it on your face. 

Will on the other hand.

“Would you like to talk about what happened to Frederick Chilton?” she asked.

“The divine punishment of the sinner mirrors the sin being punished,” Will said. 

“Contrapasso. If you play, you pay,” she repeated. 

“Chilton languished unrecognized until Hannibal the Cannibal. He wanted the world to know his face and now, he doesn’t have one,” you said. 

“We’re all making our way through the Inferno. Dante’s pilgrims,” Bedelia siad.

“We’re pets, not pilgrims. And the Great Red Dragon kills pets first,” Will muttered.

“I hate that name. I wish we knew his actual name so we could call it so. It must be something mundane, something so unassuming,” you whispered, shaking your head.

“You put a hand on Dr. Chilton’s shoulder for the picture Will. Touch gives the world an emotional context.” She gestured to the hand that was brushing yours. Not holding. Just touching. “The touch of others makes us who we are. It builds trust.”

“I put my hand on his shoulder for authenticity,” Will argued. You felt that wasn’t true but you didn’t say it. 

“To establish he really told you those insults about the Dragon? Or had you wanted to put Dr. Chilton at risk? Just a little?” Bedelia questioned.

“I wonder,” Will muttered. 

“Do you really have to wonder?” she questioned. He paused.

“No.”

“Did you know what the Great Red Dragon would do Will? You were curious what would happen, that’s apparent. Is this what you expected?” Will was glad you were there. He grabbed your hand fully.

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” 

“Then you may as well have struck the match. That’s participation.” She studied the two of you. “Hannibal Lecter does indeed have agency in the world. He has both of you.”

-

“He did Chilton like it looked like you did Freddie Lounds. Hannibal said he would, in his own way,” Jack muttered. They stood outside of where Chilton was being taken care of, you beside him and Will. 

“He wanted to make amends to Hannibal,” Will said. You crossed your arms.

“He’ll have to do better than that.” Jack walked inside of the room but before Will walked in you grabbed his arm. 

“I hate this. I have a pit in my stomach and it won’t go away,” you whispered. He faced you completely and put his hand on your cheek, moving away some hair. 

“That’s a baby,” he joked. You rolled your eyes but smiled.

“I mean a feeling Will.” 

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.” 

You didn’t believe him.

3x13

[lofitowns]

changing seasons

“ YOU HAVE A PLACE IN MY HEART NO ONE ELSE COULD EVER HAVE “

pairing. izuku midoriya x gn! reader

wc. 3.7k

summary. in which you’ve loved him since you were twelve and he’s always felt the same way (fluffvember 3/15)

an. in the quote, it talks about him giving reader his hoodie. i changed it so he buys the reader one just like his as a way to be more inclusive to all body types :)

i had loved him since the age of 12. even at 12, i saw the stars in his eyes. even at 12, i knew that it was more than just a crush.

    Ever since you had known Midoriya, he was always talking about heroes. How they worked, what their goals were, how useful their quirks could be. Living powerless in a world of powerful people must be hard, especially when he wanted so desperately to be a hero.

    You felt bad for him, but that didn’t stop you from offering encouragement. He was so passionate that you couldn’t bring yourself to try and stop him.

    You met him on your first day at Aldera Junior High. You bumped into each other on your way to class, and you ended up asking him for directions. This led you to discover you had the same homeroom. What were the odds?

    He had stars in his eyes. They shined brighter than anything you had ever seen before, and you never wanted to see them go out. Whenever he was sad, you were the first person there to bring him back up. He tried so hard to be nice to everyone that you felt it was your duty to support him.

    You were attached at the hip. Never one without the other.

    Describing the feelings in your stomach when you saw him was difficult. It felt like you were going to be sick, but not in a bad way. Your chest always felt warm, and your hands sometimes grew clammy.

    When you expressed these symptoms to your mother, she simply laughed and told you it was “puppy love”.

    Maybe she was right.

at the age of 13, he kissed me for the first time. and it was beautiful. awkward, shy, not perfect, but beautiful.

    After a year of being friends, you and Midoriya knew each other considerably well. You trusted him, and he trusted you. You could tell each other anything and everything.

    But the topic of dating and relationships never came up. Maybe it was because you still felt like kids or simply because you were too shy. But it felt like everyone else was talking about it.

    Your other friends began to tell you about what their first kiss was like, whether it was good or bad, if they wanted to do it again.

    This caused you to become curious. What did kissing feel like? Sure, you’d kissed people in your family before, but that wasn’t the same. And there was only one person you could think of that you wanted to kiss.

    “Hey, Midoriya?” You were sitting on opposite sides of his bed, just hanging out after finishing your homework. This was a common occurrence. You would walk to his apartment after school to do your work, and you almost always stayed for dinner. His mom was one of the sweetest ladies you knew and always welcomed you to stay.

    He turned his head towards you, “Yeah?”

    “Have you kissed anyone?”

    Your question seemed to shock him. His back straightened, and his eyes went wide. “W-Why do you ask?” His face turned a tomato shade of red, causing you to laugh.

    “Well, I feel like everyone’s been talking about their first kisses. I still haven’t had mine yet, so I was just... Wondering.”

    The boy cleared his throat, shifting in his seat nervously. “I haven’t had mine either.”

    “Why don’t we just do it?”

    A squeak pushed past his lips, “D-Do it? Together?”

    You laughed again, “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. We can say we’ve had our first kiss!”

    He seemed hesitant, green pupils flicking back and forth but never settling on you. He clenched and unclenched his fists before slowly nodding.

    “Yeah, okay. Why not?”

    You grinned at him, moving closer to his side of the bed. It did feel a little like you were being watched with all his All Might figurines and posters hung around you.

    Your cheeks began to feel warm, and you felt that sick feeling in your stomach once again. You heard someone refer to them as butterflies, so now that’s what you saw them as.

    They flapped their wings, tickling your sides. Sometimes they hammered, trying to break their way out of your ribs. You never felt them around anyone but Midoriya.

    He sat still as a statue, waiting on you to make the first move. You leaned in, placing your hands on the bed next to either side of his legs. All your movements were hesitant; the last thing you wanted was to scare the flustered boy.

    When your lips met his for the first time, you felt light. It was nothing like you had ever felt before. Your lips crashed together with noses bumping and foreheads knocking. It would have hurt if not for the euphoric feeling in your chest.

    You pulled away, letting out a small breath. Your eyes gazed back into his, and at that moment, you knew something changed.

    Before your lips could meet again, his mom knocked on the door.

    “Dinners ready you two!”

    The sudden commotion broke the pair of you apart. You fell back, knocking your papers to the ground.

    “Oh! (y/n)! Are you okay? I’m sorry,” Midoriya exclaimed, reaching forward to help you sit up. You shook your head with a smile on your face, “I’m fine. I promise.”

    He gave you a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. It seemed like he didn’t know what else to say.

    You took his outstretched hand in yours and pulled him off the bed. “Come on. It’s time for dinner.”

at the age of 14, he asked me out. he didn’t love me yet, but he liked me, and we were a team.

    You didn’t talk about that night again, but things were different.

    You sat closer together, and hugs began to last longer. He had become increasingly flustered around you and vise versa. It was never brought up though; it seemed easier that way. Neither of you wanted to confront these new emotions and lose your best friend.

    It wasn’t until you had to pick what high schools you were applying for that you felt a tug to tell him. You both applied to UA High School but weren’t optimistic about the prospects. Not with Bakugo claiming that he would be the only student from this school to go there and become the number one hero.

    You knew it was farfetched for Midoriya to be accepted. He didn’t have a quirk, but maybe, just maybe, he could get in through some other circumstances.

    As entrance exams grew nearer, you noticed something different about your friend. He had begun working out for one. And he had been spending more time by himself. You knew it could be one of two things.

    It could have been because of the incident with the slime villain. After that day, something had changed within him. Bakugo had even been taking it easier on him, which you thought was strange.

    Or maybe he was trying to train for the entrance exam. Even if it was that, you had said you would train together. He was supposed to help you gain better control over your quirk since he seemed to know more about it than you. He had notebooks filled with information on it.

    He seemed tired and strained, and you knew he had to be working himself too hard. But whenever you tried to mention it, he would get flustered and backtrack. It was getting a little bit annoying.

    On the day of the UA entrance exam, you hadn’t even walked together. He said he was getting in a bit of last-minute training and couldn’t walk you. That made your heart sink more than it likely should have. You did see him before it started but weren’t able to talk to him before Present Mic interrupted.

    It wasn’t until after that you finally saw him. Well, more like you heard about him. Since he wasn’t in your group, you ended up staying behind to look for him. What you weren’t expecting to hear was how “some green-haired guy busted his body up with his quirk”.

    There was no way that was Midoriya, right? He didn’t even have a quirk. There had to be plenty of other green haired boys at the exam. But there was a nagging in your gut that told you something was wrong.

    Then, you saw him limping. It wasn’t that noticeable, but after knowing him for so long, you could tell something was off. You walked him home, but the whole time neither of you spoke. You didn’t know how to bring up what you had heard, and he just looked... Sad.

    He invited you inside, and you agreed because you knew that the two of you needed some time to talk.

    You sat across from each other at his dining room table. You were chewing at your bottom lip as you tried to figure out what to say to him.

    “So, do you want to talk about it?”

    Midoriya’s eyes stared into yours, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

    “I’m sorry for not telling you. I have a quirk now, which is great, but I didn’t defeat any of the robots in the exam, so I don’t think I got any points. And I’ve been ignoring you when I shouldn’t have. I’m so sor-” You cut his rambling off by placing your hand on top of his.

    “It’s okay, just calm down.”

    He took a deep breath before speaking again, “I missed you.”

    You sent him a gentle smile, “I missed you too.”

    This time when he tried to explain things, he was more level headed. Even though he tried to get you to think he was telling you everything, you could see he was hiding something. But you didn’t want to push him, so you didn’t mention it.

    And just like that, things were back to normal. He was still sulky, but you were talking again, and you were happy.

    The week it took to get your letter from school went faster than you thought it would. When your mom handed you the letter with your name on it, you felt your stomach churn with unease.

    It seemed like that was all for nothing because when the holograph of All Might popped up, he excitedly shouted that you had made it in. Your first instinct was to call Midoriya, but right as you picked up the phone, there was a knock at your front door.

    Right when you pulled it open, the green-haired boy burst in and tackled you in a hug. He was panting and sticky with sweat, but you wrapped your arms around him just as tightly.

    “I made it in,” He whispered against your shoulder. You nearly gasped in disbelief as you told him the same.

    When he pulled back, you could see tears swimming in his eyes. He looked so, so happy. An overpowering feeling of emotion filled your body when you surged forward and pressed your lips against his. Just like you had done the year prior while sitting in his bedroom.

    His cheeks went red, but he responded instantly, resting a hand on your cheek. Again, the kiss was short, but it took your breath away.

    The two of you looked at each other for a few moments before bursting out in a fit of laughter. He wrapped his arms around you tighter and brought you close.

    “Would you want to go out this weekend?” He asked, voice coming out in stutters. You could feel the palms of his hands moisten, and you knew he was nervous. After a year of not mentioning these subtle changes, now seemed as good a time as any to do something about it.

at the age of 15, he gave me his favorite sweatshirt. and then i knew that boy loved me because he practically lived in that sweatshirt. i wore it almost every day.

    Everyone knew about Midoriya’s fascination with All Might. His whole dorm was filled to the brim with merchandise. Not to mention the pages upon pages he had written about him in his journal.

    Which is why it surprised you when he showed up at your door one day clutching a hoodie. It looked like his favorite, the one he had gotten through a special fan club event. You stared at the boy in confusion.

    “Izuku?”

    “Hi! Um, hi!” His voice sounded a little shaky.

    You sent him a patient smile, “Do you want to come in?”

    He nodded after a few seconds of thought and stepped into your dorm. You watched him, confused as to why he had suddenly gotten so shy. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, so you waited for him to speak.

    “I was, um... I was talking to Uraraka, and she said that... She said that couples get matching clothes. So I was just wondering if you would want to wear this? I have the same one, and it’s my favorite, so I wanted to see you in it. I got it a little big, so you can feel like you’re wearing mine or something! Only if you want to though!” He was mumbling again.

    A small smile graced your lips. You moved closer to him, setting a hand on his shoulder. His words stopped abruptly, mouth hanging open as your eyes met. The look on his face immediately softened, closing his mouth and returning your smile.

    You took the sweatshirt out of his hands and pulled it over your head. It was warm, and it smelled like him. Had he put it on before bringing it over? The thought made the back of your neck heat up, and your heart flutter.

    Turning your gaze to him, you raised your arms before saying, “So, how do I look?”

    You could see his face becoming gradually redder, he even reached up to cover it. A nervous chuckle left his lips as he looked you up and down.

    “Amazing.”

    The heat from your neck spread to your cheeks. You looked down while shaking your head and laughing, “Thanks, Izu.”

    The boy wrapped his arms around you tightly, nuzzling his nose into your neck. A breathy chuckle left his lips as you reached a hand up to pet his hair.

    “Come on, let’s watch that new show you wanted to check out!”

at the age of 16, he told me he loved me. he didn’t make a big deal out of it, just told me he loved me. i told him i loved him back.

    You dropped onto your bed on your stomach, groaning into your pillow. You heard chuckling behind you as Midoriya sat next to you. He began to run a hand up and down your back. His fingertips lightly tapped your skin, beginning to trace patterns.

    “There’s always the next one.”

    You had just gotten your most recent exam results back. You didn’t completely fail, but you thought you would have gotten a better score. All the time you had spent studying felt wasted. Maybe you were being overdramatic, but it was still frustrating.

    “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You sighed before flipping over on to your back. Your eyes met his, and he smiled at you. God, his smile.

    When you had first met the boy, he had been chronically insecure. He was timid and was scared to speak up for himself. But he had grown a lot since then. You felt lucky that you had been around to witness it.

    You reached your arms out, and he instinctively fell into you. A content smile made it’s way to your lips as you ruffled his hair with your nose.

    You loved moments like this. Time where it was just the two of you with no homework to stress over or training to rush to. No villains threatening your lives. You could just lay in each other’s arms.

    Midoriya slowly began to tangle his legs with yours to pull you closer to him. His breath fanned over your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. You threaded your fingers through his hair, rubbing gentle circles on his scalp.

    “(y/n)...” He whispered your name in an attempt to get your attention. You hummed in response.

    “I love you.”

    His words were simple, nonchalant. He kept his arms wrapped around you and his face in your neck. But you thought you could feel his cheeks getting hotter.

    Your heart was beating erratically against your chest, but you tried to play it off. Your breath had been knocked out of you, and heat began to creep onto your cheeks. You didn’t know he was freaking out as well, if not more than you.

    “I love you too.”

    at age 17, he gave me a ring. not a wedding ring, but a promise ring. with that ring, he told me that he promised to love me forever.

    Birthdays with class 1-A were always celebrated to the fullest. Even for the people that didn’t like excessive attention, the day always ended with them feeling special.

    On the day of your 17th birthday, you already knew what to expect. You’d wake up to Kaminari and Ashido pounding on your door, yelling celebrations. Breakfast would be your favorite, and you’d get a mass of happy birthdays. The rest of the day would be mostly normal up until everyone was back in the dorms. Then, you would be handed present after present from each of your classmates. Even the most reluctant ones (Bakugo) would get you something small. The three years you had all been together made you close.

    The night began to wind down after a while, but it was always fun to hang out with your friends. Everyone in class was so unique and meshed so well together. It made you so happy that you were able to be apart of a class like this.

    Ashido and Kaminari seemed to notice something off though. Throughout the whole night, they hadn’t seen your boyfriend give you a gift. Now that couldn’t happen! Not under their watch. They approached you when you were finally left alone on one of the couches.

    “Why hasn’t he given you anything?” The girl questioned as the pair slid into the seats on either side of you. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her cheeks were puffed out.

    “Oh, well, I told him he didn’t need to get me anything,” You responded, looking between the two.

    Kaminari narrowed his eyebrows, “But he’s your boyfriend. He should still get you something. And it’s Midoriya we’re talking about.”

    You shrugged, “It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me.”

    And that seemed to be the end of it.

    That was until you made it back to your room that night. You had changed out of your day clothes and into your pajamas and began to get ready for bed.

    The knock on your door surprised you. When you went to answer it, your green-haired boyfriend stood in front of you with his hands behind his back.

    “Hey! You wanna come in?”

    He nodded, but his body language told you he was nervous. He was chewing his bottom lip, and it almost looked like he was shaking.

    The boy managed to make it to your bed, sitting down with his hands now in his lap. You stood in front of him, giving him a patient smile.

    “What’s wrong, baby?”

    Midoriya took a deep breath, looking between your eyes and his lap. Finally, he raised his hands. Resting in them was a small plastic pouch.

    You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked between the boy and the small item. You had no idea what it was or why he was so nervous to give it to you.

    He pulled the two ends apart and took your hand in his. He flipped it so your palm was facing upwards and emptied the contents there.

    There sat a green ring pop.

    Your eyes widened, and your heart jumped to your throat. No words came to mind; none of them sounded right.

    “I know we can’t get married yet... But you’ve been apart of my life for so long, and I couldn’t imagine it without you. This is just a placeholder,” His words hit your heart in a way that caused your eyes to tear up.

    He must have taken your lack of words as a rejection because he started sputtering out apologies. His hand reached out to take the ring back.

    “Oh! I’m sorry, was this a bad idea? You said you didn’t want me spending any money, but I wanted to get you something. I wanted to get you a real promise ring, but I couldn’t afford one... I’m sorry, you don’t have to take it-“

    You cut him off by leaning down and smashing your lips against his. You cupped his face with one hand, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. When you parted, you slipped the ring onto your finger, looking down at it and laughing.

    His eyes were still closed, as if he thought when he opened them, you’d reject him. But how could you do that after three years of dating him?

    “Izu, open your eyes.”

    You made your voice as soft as possible, this time cupping his face with both hands. His wide green eyes met yours, and in moments they became glassy.

    “I love you so, so much (y/n),” He told you, nuzzling his nose into your palm.

    “I love you so, so much Izuku.”

    Your lips locked once more, his tears mixing in and giving you a taste of salt. He pulled you down onto your bed so you didn’t have to continue standing.

    The pair of you laid on your backs, just staring up at the ceiling. You lifted your left hand in the air and stared at the green candy. Another laugh fell from your lips as you looked over at him. Now that his nerves had passed, he began laughing too.

    “Was it a stupid idea?” He questioned, rubbing the back of his neck. You quickly shook your head, “No, of course not. It was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

    You looked at each other for a few moments before he grinned brightly at you. And there they were again, those butterflies you had felt so many years ago. And now you knew just how much you loved him.

    now we’re 18, and i have no idea what will happen next, but i know that we have plenty of life left and i’m looking forward to it.

     thank you for reading :) have a good day!

[kpop-cakepops]

So... We Love Each Other? // Vernon Chwe

Friends to Lovers au. 

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3,878

Warnings: None.

"The rule to remember is that opposites attract. Every magnet has both a north and a south pole. When you place the north pole of one magnet near the south pole of another magnet, they are attracted to one anothe-"

You switched the television off whatever kid's show had been on. It was an early Friday morning and you had accidentally fallen asleep with the TV on the night before.

The night before.

If only you could you would erase the entire night from your memory and just live your life as if it had never happened. Too bad you didn't have the power to do that, nor did you know anyone that could.

With a distraught sigh, you push yourself from your bed and drag your feet in the direction of your kitchen only to be startled by your best friend and roommate Vernon, who was standing with his back pressed against the counter.

"Holy crap. You scared me!" You exclaimed holding at your chest to alleviate the rapid beating of your heart.

"You're one to talk. Mingyu is now officially terrified of you and wants you to pretend not to know him. He stated, and I quote, 'I've never seen someone get so upset over turtles.' He is also making me pay him back for the date." The younger boy glares at you and chugs down the rest of his chocolate milk. "Care to explain how you managed to ruin a blind date with Mingyu? Kim Mingyu?! The epitome of tolerance and acceptance?!"

You winced at every word he spoke until you finally broke and dropped to the floor. "Animal life preservation" you mumbled. "He brought up my favorite books and then he started talking about animals and I got excited, and may have spoken a little too much about saving the turtles"

"Y/N, I'm running out of friends to set you up with. Seungcheol joined the army as an excuse to not see you, Jeonghan moved to the dormitories on the other side of the campus, Soonyoung said he'll never date again... are you cursed? Should we see a shaman?"

You grunted from your spot on the ground before standing. "Just stop setting me up with people. I don't think I'm cut out for this dating thing... maybe I should join a convent and become a nun?” You asked him as you grabbed a bowl to pour cereal into it. “Maybe it’s a  sign from the heavens, I should learn the ways of God and become the next Mother Teresa."

Vernon’s face softened slightly at the sight of you defeatedly picking at your fingernails but instead rolled his eyes and moved you out of his way when you turned to face him. "Move. You're hopeless and I have class. I swear if I come back to find out you've called the local church I will send Seungcheol all your embarrassing love letters, and before you ask, yes, they are under my custody."

"Excuse me?! Hey come back here! You little- I'm older than you!”

“It’s just a year” he retorted.

"Yeah?! Well, blackmailing is illegal you know!”

He was gone.

Seeing that you had already missed your first class of the day, you decided to take the entire day off as a day to self reflect and find your zen. (You also didn't want to see Kim Mingyu again, so staying home would probably be the best option for you.) Promptly you grabbed your favorite book and flopped onto the only couch in the apartment throwing your legs up against the wall and pretending to read when in reality you were contemplating dropping out of your ethics class to entirely avoid Mingyu... and Jeonghan...

After about 2 hours the front door of your apartment swung open and in walked Vernon’s girlfriend Minji. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw you, her already red face became even redder as she muffled a scream into her hands and stomped in direction of your roommate’s bedroom.

“Uhhhh...” You rolled yourself off the couch and instantly scattered for your phone, dialing Vernon’s number quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hey, um just a real quick question. By any chance did you and Minji fight again?” you asked as you heard things tumbling around inside Vernon’s room.

“Damn it. I told her not to show up at the apartment. I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Please protect my shoe collection with your life, Y/N. It’s all I ask of you.”

The line was cut before you could muster up a response. A loud crash rumbled down the hall and you found yourself sighing. It was time for you to step in as usual, which was probably the thing you most hated to do, especially since your best friend’s girlfriend wasn’t exactly fond of you.

With careful steps, you moved in direction of Vernon’s bedroom and knocked lightly. “Hey, Minji... you in there?” After a few seconds of receiving no response you called out again, “Minji? I’m gonna come in okay?” slowly you opened the door only for your mouth to fall agape.

A crying Minji was sitting on the floor surrounded by Vernon’s clothes, his drawers pulled open and emptied while his closet doors remained open with yet another mess made up of his clothes, some with hangers still in. “Jesus Christ, Minji, what is this mess?! You haven’t even been here 5 minutes!” you exclaimed walking further inside to try and salvage the room.

“What do you care?! These aren’t your things, Vernon isn’t your boyfriend! So what do you care?!” She yelled standing up from her spot on the ground.

“I care because this is my house, and these are Vernon’s things. Being his pissed off girlfriend does not give you the right to just storm in here and start ripping his bedroom apart! We’re hoping to get the deposit for this apartment back when we move out!” you fought back as you picked up your friend’s clothes off the floor and placed them on the bed.

“... stop referring to Vernon as part of your ‘we.’ Do you have any idea how fucking annoying you are? Do you have any idea how much I hate you?!”

You stopped in your tracks and looked over at her in disbelief. “Don’t you think you’re being unfair right now? I’m having as much a rough day as you are and you break into my house to make a ruckus? Do you really think I like you? All you’ve done since you started dating Vernon is push me away from him as his friend, it was like you decided I was the enemy before you even met me. You’ve been nothing but a bitch to me, so do you think I like you?!” You didn’t know where all the resentment was coming from, maybe the words had a cutting edge on them because of the amount of stress you were under what with the failed Mingyu date and your upcoming exams... whatever the reason, you wanted to hurt her feelings.

She looked shocked by your words. Understandably so, you hadn’t ever really talked back to her when she threw a tantrum, usually Vernon would take her away before anything could escalate.

“You must be really happy. Look at you getting brave, you must be really happy to be the reason Vernon won’t marry me. You must be really happy to know he wants to break up with me over you. You’re dead wrong if you think I’m going to allow you both to date peacefully. I’d rather DIE than see you both together, you hear me?! I’ll make both your lives a living hell” Her erratic words felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on you.

"Minji... what do think you’re doing?” Vernon was finally home. You looked over at him to find that his eyes were trained on you as he walked up. “Are you okay?” he asked grabbing you by the shoulders and looking for any signs of a fight.

You nodded your head and pushed the shirt that was in your hand into his chest. “Get her the hell out of this house before I have an aneurism,” you told him quietly before walking out of his room and straight into yours.

With your back pressed to your bedroom door, you heard Minji go into another yelling fit while your best friend calmly tried to deescalate the situation. You rolled your eyes at the sound of him being the nicest while Minji continued to vociferate. It was always like that, you wondered why he always put up with her when she obviously only ever used him as a trophy boyfriend.

You plopped down on your bed putting in your earbuds in an attempt to drown out the outside noise. Only then were you able to process what had just happened. You knew you’d been wrong to vent your frustrations out on Minji who wasn’t really at fault for your failed love life... but it’s not like you were at fault for her failed love life either, right?

“ you must be really happy to know he wants to break up with me over you.”

What had she even meant by that? Was Vernon really thinking about breaking up with her? Even if he were thinking about doing it, how would that be your fault? Everything was starting to become too much for you, the gold medalist of the overthinking Olympics, so you decided to block everything out and do the one thing you were best at: sleep.

---

It had been 2 weeks since your disaster Mingyu date and the epic Minji and Vernon showdown. Minji had not stepped foot in your apartment since and Vernon, who had kept quiet about the entire situation, was rarely home. The number of times you’d seen him in the last 2 weeks were so small that you could probably count them in one hand.

Truth be told, you hadn’t exactly made an effort to talk to him either. You knew if you talked to him you’d ask about Minji and that would lead to a conversation about his fight, which would lead to you asking why Minji blamed you for it. God forbid he say something like ‘I like you’ right? Or were you more worried about him saying he didn’t?

A soft groan left your lips as you allowed your head to drop onto your desk. You were overthinking again. You were almost sure your head was going to burst suddenly.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to find Mingyu standing next to your table with his hands in his pockets. “What’s up?” you asked as you grabbed your bag and shoved your laptop inside.

Mingyu looked at you with raised eyebrows and handed you a shopping bag with what looked like clothes. “These are Vernon’s can you give them to him?” he asked.

You took the bag from him and nodded, “Yeah, I’ll get it to him.” With that, you walked around him and started to leave the lecture hall not really having anything else to say.

“Um... hey, wait.” his hand was around your arm and you looked at him expectantly. He dropped his grip embarrassed before he scratched at the back of his neck. “Aren’t you gonna... ask why I didn’t call you?”

You frowned a little, “Call me? why would you...oh! The date!” you chuckled. Funny how only 2 weeks ago avoiding Mingyu was all you could think about.

The tall boy blinked confused, “Y-you forgot we went on a date?”

“What? no... kind of... but it’s okay! I understand you’re not about that ‘SAVE THE TURTLES’ life”

“Save the turtles?” He questioned.

“Vernon told me what you said, and I’ll be the first to admit that I can get pretty scary when I talk about animal life conservation. You can act like I don’t exist if I make you uncomfortable, I regret my actions, but it’s not that important.”

“it’s not?” he asked.

You hummed in response. “By the way, has Vernon been staying at your place? Truth is he hasn’t been coming home for the past 2 weeks. I heard him and Minji broke up...and I guess I was a little worried”

Mingyu smiled to himself, “Hold on, do you seriously think I didn’t call you because you got excited over saving the turtles?” the tall boy couldn’t help but laugh. “You guys are seriously so stupid.”

“Excuse me?” you queried unsure as to why you were suddenly being called stupid.

He patted your head, “You’re a beautiful and smart girl, Y/N. Getting excited over the turtles was actually kind of hot. Jeonghan thinks so too...”

You couldn’t help but choke out a soft “He does?”

“Of course he does. It’s the Vernon part that pushes a man away.” Mingyu told you. “He was staying at my place after Minji dumped him for not wanting to get more serious about her... but I kicked him out last night. His wallet is in the bag and so are his keys to your place... you should probably go check on him”

You couldn’t help but stare at Mingyu as he left. “It’s the Vernon part that pushes a man away? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” there was a part of you that was offended for your friend. He had been nothing but sweet and caring...

Before he could leave, you ran after Mingyu and cut him off by stomping your foot in front of him. “You... I take back what I said. I don’t regret my actions on that night. In fact, I’m glad you didn’t call me back because I would never date a man that doesn’t like Vernon. Do you have any idea how much he has helped me? He listens to me, he takes care of me when I feel down, he makes me laugh even though he’s possibly the least funny person I have ever met, he left a comfortable dorm life with his best friends so that I could afford living close campus, he pretends to not care that I use his body wash when mine runs out even though I know he hates it, he puts up with my crazy ideas even if they fail... which they do 90% of the time-”

“Only 90%?” asks Mingyu with a raised eyebrow.

“OKAY MAYBE 99%, but that’s not the point! Vernon is the best friend anyone could ask for and if the guy I’m dating doesn’t like him, then I don’t want it. ALSO, YOU’RE A FAKE FRIEND. BAD MOUTHING HIM BEHIND HIS BACK. You ought to be embarrassed!” You could feel your face redden as you ranted away only for Mingyu’s face to light up in a soft smile.

“Do you even hear yourself?” he asked. “It’s not that the men in your life don’t like Vernon... it’s that none of us can compete with him.”

“What?”

“It was pretty intimidating to sit through my first date with you and hear you say all these wonderful things about Vernon... it made me realize you are both idiots that don’t realize what’s right in front of you even if it hits you in the face...” you opened your mouth to speak but were stopped by Mingyu’s large hand pressing over your lips. “...so let me help you out a little. You’re in love with Vernon and that Idiot is very much in love with you too. All you ever talk about is Vernon and all Vernon does is date dumb stuck up girls because apparently, that is easier than telling you how he really feels. So how about you do all of us a favor and go back home and talk your feelings out? You know, like two grown adults.”

Your face went slack unable to say anything back to that. You weren’t sure if you were in agreeance or absolutely baffled by everything Mingyu had just said, but you had the whole walk back home to figure it all judging by the fact that Mingyu had already walked away from you.  

After what seemed like an eternity you decided to take the 15-minute walk home and face your best friend... or crush... or possibly the love of your life, as you had eventually concluded after sitting in your empty lecture hall for 30 minutes. You were ready...

Or so you thought.

The moment the elevator doors slid open to reveal your floor, your eyes landed on Vernon’s slumped form against the door of your apartment dressed in his favorite pink pajama pants. That sight alone was enough for you to freeze in your spot with your finger deeply pressing the ‘door open’ button, but your feet unable to take the ONE step needed to get out of the elevator.

“Y/N?”

There it was, the little push you needed. Vernon was staring at you from his spot on the ground, hair tousled and dark circles framing his pretty eyes.

“Hey” you mustered raising the shopping bag in your hand. “I have your stuff,” you told him as you watched him stand up.

“Cool... why are you standing inside the elevator?” he questioned nodding over at you.

You looked around you realizing then that you had not left the safety of the elevator. With a forced out cough, you stepped out and over to him. “You want to come in?” You asked gesturing to the door of your apartment only to wish you could melt into the ground below you.

“Yeah, I live here” he stated the obvious.

You stopped yourself from saying anything else and simply opened the door for both of you. Vernon, as expected, beelined for his bedroom leaving you behind with his things. Things were very obviously awkward... maybe subconsciously you’d known it’d be like this if you ever faced your feelings for Vernon... but it seemed there was no turning back anymore.

You knocked on Vernon’s bedroom door but were greeted by the sound of the shower running instead. With a small sigh, you walked back to your own room to wait for him to finish up before finally starting the conversation you’d been preparing yourself for since your talk with Mingyu.

After minutes of sitting on your bed feeling antsy and nervous, you decided to go check on Vernon again. With a deep breath, you raised your hand to knock on his bedroom door, but before you could react, his door had swung open and instead of the door, you knocked him on the face. “Oh shit!”

“Dude, what the hell?”

“Vernon, I am so sorry!” you scrambled over to his doubled over form and grabbed at his arms trying to get a better view of his face. “I didn’t mean to hit you!”

“It’s fine, don’t worry, you still can’t pack a punch, I’m fine,” he assured you as he grabbed at your shoulders, a soft smile gracing his lips as he looked into your eyes for the first time since you had left the elevator.

Unknowingly, tears began to fill your eyes. Not only had you missed him for the past two weeks, but now being face to face, looking at him as he smiled at you, made you realize how right Mingyu was.

“Are you crying?” he asked, the smile dropping from his face.

“Vernon...” you looked straight at him as you spoke, you had to get it done now or never. “why did you break up with Minji?”

Almost instantly, Vernon moved his eyes away from yours. “Don’t worry about it. Whatever she said, don’t let it bother you.”

You slowly trailed behind him as he made his way to the kitchen. “So it wasn’t because of me?”

He stopped and turned around, “Because of you? Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty about my failed love life.” he teased as he ruffled your hair.

You grabbed his hand and shook your head, “I’m not. I’m trying to figure out if I’m in love with my best friend all by myself or if he’s in love with me too.”

Vernon’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find words to your very sudden confession. “In- in love?”

Oh god... You were starting to hyperventilate. Was Mingyu an idiot? Did Vernon not like you like you liked him?

“Oh my god...” heat was starting to crawl up your neck. “Did I read it all wrong? Oh my god... Oh my god, I’m going to actually kill him. Why did I let him talk me into saying this?”

“I do.”

“What?”

“Love you.” He said. His face was as red as you imagined yours to be. The room became silent suddenly. You had been so adamant on finally confessing your feelings to Vernon that you hadn’t managed to think what would happen after that.

“So... we love each other?” you asked like an idiot still avoiding his eyes.

“I mean, I guess so.” he chuckled nervously, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so used to going on blind dates and never getting past the first date that like... what now?” You asked.

Vernon cleared his throat and took a step forward, his hip bumping against yours. “Well, for starters... can I kiss you?”

You squealed. “Why did you ask me, now I’m embarrassed!” you smacked his arm making him laugh.

“Fine, we don’t have to” he shrugged his shoulders and started for the kitchen once again.

Before you could help it your hand grabbed at the end of his t-shirt stopping him, “Wait... I said I’m embarrassed, not that you shouldn’t kiss me.” You mumbled.

“Well shit... now I’m embarrassed” He laughed.

With a surge of bravery, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips against his. You could feel his breath catch in his throat as you did which made you internally panic. Did he not like it? Yet almost as if he’d read your mind he wrapped his arms around your waist almost as if holding you in place, reassuring you that it was fine.

It was more than fine, really. Your heart was racing and tummy fluttering like it’d never done before. You never would have imagined Vernon’s lips were that soft and sweet... or maybe you had, you’d just never admit it to yourself.

Not wanting to, but rather having to, you pulled away from the kiss. “If I’d know you were this good a kisser, I probably would’ve admitted my feelings a long time ago” you joked.

“Is it normal that I’m so happy I could cry?” he asked as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I wouldn’t say normal, but judging by the fact that I could also cry, I’d say it’s understandable”

“Does this mean I can start sleeping in the master bedroom with you now?” he asked.

“Wine and dine me first, sweetheart. I’m a woman of dignity.”

“If I wine and dine you tonight, do I get to sleep on your king-sized bed?” he walked you towards the kitchen counter until he had you trapped.

“Maybe... If you agree to be my boyfriend, I would positively consider it.”

[qianoir]

After Midnight 3 - Stars

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college dropout!Ten (WayV) x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, angst with fluff on top

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 13+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing (censored), lying, family problems, mentions death of reader's father, romance

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9K

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2 < 3

Your head was pounding from your ears drinking in the tantrum of a 3 year old boy, the cries diving straight into your ringing eardrums. A young couple showed up with their child who started offing himself about your café not having some made up hybrid cake he wanted for the last 10 minutes.

The boy started flailing around and knocked his mother's iced Americano out of her hand in the process, landing the freezing and pungent liquid all over you.

The LED clock above you flickered with a new hour, freeing you from the café’s dark roasted chains. You ripped the soaked apron over your head and stuffed it into the back room’s washing machine before taking hold of your belongings and rushing out of the building after saying a quick “good-bye” to your mother- who was not about to deal with the coddled boy and you leaving all at once, so she kicked the spoiled family out, them following your irritated trail on the way through the doors.

You were walking fast to have a little costume change before meeting up with Ten and his friends, 5 o’clock coming within the next 20 minutes.

Y/N

Heyyo I had a little accident at work so I'm going to stop by my place to clean up before heading over to yours.

Once you were in your own space, you peeled the rest of the coffee soaked clothing off of your body, sticking the wet collection into the washer to cold soak after dressing up nicely.

TEN

d.amn it y/n you are too old to be soiling yourself

???

Y/N

That’s not what I meant!

TEN

Whatever ;p

Stepping out into the bright evening air, you realized you don't even know where the hell to go. The napkin with the address was in the pocket of your apron washing back at the café.

You recognized the street that leads to Décalcomanie, the street that leads to Myeongdong, and one leading to a duck shop.

Admitting defeat, you texted Ten.

Y/N

hey so I left the napkin with your address in my apron.. which I don't have would you mind sending it to me?

TEN

such a handful~

You followed the GPS to his address. His apartment building was on the other side of your school you usually metro to, so it was a pretty tiring walk. Arriving fashionably late, you knocked on door number 117.

There was a lot of commotion and screaming, as you were previously informed. Finally, Ten opened the door and waved for you to come in.

Taking your shoes off at the entrance, you saw three guys tackling each other, two others playing video games, and one really fine looking man behind an island in the kitchen.

"Hello!!" One of the guys being tackled shouted and waved at you which got him punched in the back by the guy orchestrating the tackling. You hesitantly waved back "Hi Y/N!!" The boy in the kitchen said with a charming smile.

"Lovely place." You said to Ten with a giggle as he closed the door with an annoyed look on his face. "Y/N, these are my friends,"

He took you over to the couch where the two players were. "This is Sicheng and Xuxi," The two boys playing Mario Kart threw a glance your way and waved with a smile. "these fools are Hendery, Xiaojun, and Yangyang.."

Hendery strained to wave again under the two boys with a big smile on his face, as did the two others. Ten swayed you into the kitchen and introduced you to the last man. This guy was so handsome, like the Asian bachelor. "I'm Kun." The man greeted, kindly.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N. Our Ten always talks about you." Yangyang says walking towards you two. Ten sent him a glare. "Is that so?"

"At least I'm not blind from having my head up my ass all day, Yangyang shut up!" His voice cracked, making you and Yangyang erupt in laughter.

"Anyways, if you'll excuse us- I invited Y/N here for us to be alone." He took your wrist in his grasp and led you to a room.

Ten pet a space on the bed for you to sit down while he leaned over his desk, searching on his laptop. A slow beat filled the room. You recognized this song- the song your dad would play for your mom in the car on long road trips: Something by The Beatles.

Something in the way she moves

attracts me like no other lover

Something in her style that shows me

I don’t want to leave her now

you know I believe and how.

Your parents were so in love. When your father first heard this song, he had made it their special theme to portray their love. They had both become big fans of The Beatles and always had this song pop up at least once in every holiday or event playlist or could be caught quoting it occasionally when the timing was right. Your heart sank in your chest at the memory.

You hadn't realized that the song had ended or that Ten was at your side watching you intently. You looked up at him and he offered a small smile.

"My parents used to listen to this song all the time."

"Really? Are you guys close?"

Your mouth felt sour hearing the inevitable question. “My dad died from pneumonia when I was younger. My mom tries to be present for me, but I know she misses him.” Tears puddled at your waterline as you forced yourself not to cry. “Sometimes I think she only keeps trying because she thinks I’m studying premed when I really hide pointe shoes in my closet. I don’t have the heart to tell her what I’m really majoring in.. because I’m terrified of us losing each other completely and frankly, she would never forgive me of my dishonesty if she would stay.”

"It's not wrong.. following your passion" Ten announced after a whole note of silence, "I'm sorry for making you bring up such a past, but I’m happy I can at least sympathize with you..” He looked away from you to recall his memories clearly.

“My parents didn't agree with me wanting to study dance either. And they certainly did not agree with me leaving my hometown in Thailand and dropping out of college to come here for the best art opportunities. Mine and the rest of the guys outside; all of us are a little more distant from our family than usual just because we are passionate." Ten confessed.

"I'm sorry." You weakly rasped.

"I'm not." Ten smiled at you.

"My friends and I are doing what we love without anyone holding us back and one day it's going to all pay off.. I know it will.. If it wouldn't I would have never dropped out."

You could understand where he was coming from. He is really passionate and faithful to his dreams, it is a little inspiring.

"And you seem to be doing good on your own, too. You're studying dance, which I'm sure you're amazing at, and working at the café to help your mom, letting people make a mess of you that you always undoubtedly pick yourself up from." You laughed, the sad tears rolling down your cheeks and turning to bittersweet tears of joy.

"Thank you, Ten."

"Anytime, Y/N." He handed you a napkin for your eyes.

A cough was heard outside the closed door, along with faint whispers.

"Lucas, shut the HELL up!"

Ten got up and opened the door, making four boys come tumbling inside the room.

All rushing to get up, Lucas stayed laying on the floor, "Uh, hi guys." he offered a charming smile. "We were just coming to tell you that dinner is ready?" Yangyang shrugged obviously.

Ten snickered.

"Nice try, guys-"

"Dinner is ready!" Kun yelled from the kitchen.

"What did I tell you?" Yangyang stuck out his tongue, cockily. Ten rolled his eyes and looked over at you,

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Uhm-"

"She is staying, I already made her a plate!" Kun yelled once again from the kitchen. The other boys ran out of the doorway to the kitchen.

"I guess it's settled then..." Ten sighed and reached his hand out to you, which you took. You were led into the dining room where the other boys sat. Ten placed you in a chair next to his and Kun’s.

Kun had made zhajiangmian, a Chinese traditional celebration/comfort food aka Chinese spaghetti. It tasted so much better than the bread pastries and milk teas you had been living off of in the past year.

Everyone was very talkative during dinner, you even found out that Ten choreographs his own dances for himself and the others to perform and learned that Kun has a degree in music from a prestigious university in Beijing. The boys you had dinner with were really fun to be around and gave you lots of energy after the intricate start to the new semester.

You didn't realize how lonely your little apartment was until now, even when sharing it with your mother most nights. They made you feel so comfortable and content after lacking companionship since your high school days. Also the food was really good, thanks to Kun.

Everybody finished their food but still continued the little chat at the dinner table "And this one time, Ten ate butter thinking it was ice cream! Who does that!?" Yangyang finished off his story punching the table with laughter.

You glanced at the time on your phone. It was almost 10 o'clock and you had to get to sleep early for your new 8 AM class.

Ten turned to you when he felt short tugs at his hoodie. "Cinderella has to get home?"

The room got quiet with Ten’s words, but quickly exploded in a swarm of whines and begs for you to stay. You gave them an apologetic smile.

Ten stood up, pulling me with him, "I'll walk you home." He was already at the door, kicking on his shoes. Everyone bid you good-bye as you waved to all of them before you and Ten were out the door.

"It's this way." You motioned in the direction of your apartments. Ten nodded and followed your path. It was silent the whole way, but it was a nice silence. It was peaceful with just you two. Arriving soon, you  stopped in front of the entrance and turned around to look at Ten.

"Thank you for having me over, I really enjoyed it. Your friends are really nice."

"Of course. I’m really glad you came. I like spending time with you and I think my friends do as well."

Smiles were exchanged and hearts skipped, both of your breathing patterns were evident in each other’s dialogue. "Do you have any last lyrics before we end the night?"

Your building never shines like the others in its distance. The only light around you is the one that blooms in space and allows the stars to twinkle down to where you stand. Ten took your chin is his hand and created perfect eye contact:

"Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. And all the things that you do.”

He tossed your chin up before walking off into the night.

To Be Continued…

Something by The Beatles

Yellow by Coldplay

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

[shirtlesssammy]

4x11: Family Remains

Then:

Castiel, angel of the lord, gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition. Also, Dean finally unloaded his Hell trauma to Sam.

Now:

Drunken man watches television one night. The lights flicker and his door won’t open. Another door opens to reveal a very ragged girl. A ghost! Long story short: the Home Sweet Home embroidery is going to need a lot of Oxy to get back to fighting shape.

Dean, meanwhile, is taking a page out of the old Sam Winchester-Barrel-Through-The-Trauma playbook and is working cases non-stop. He is not going to talk about Hell. Nope, those feelings are buried real deep again. Anyway, Dean’s found a ghost case in Nebraska.

Sam and Dean head to the now vacant house to check things out. Something behind the walls watches their inspection. The EMF meter is all over the place, but there are power lines. They find a doll head in the closet. Routine bullshit. 

Their inspection is interrupted by a family and all their moving gear. Looks like the place was sold. We‘ve got Mom Susan and Dad Brian, Little Brother Danny, Buster the Dog, Petulant Sister Kate, and Cool Uncle Ted.  

Sam and Dean approach the family as inspectors. There’s asbestos in the walls and a gas leak. Sorry family, you can’t move in  today. The family wants to stay so Dean threatens a fine or jail. The family gives them one night. 

Sam and Dean hit the hunt in Fed suits. They interview the woman that found the body of Mr. Gibson. 

She cleaned his house for five years but didn’t know him too well. He was private. He had some family trauma: wife died in childbirth and his daughter hanged herself. The cleaner has some pictures of the daughter and gives them to Sam and Dean. She also notes that while there was never any weird light flickering activity, she did hear rustling in the walls. Rats. She never saw them though. 

The brothers don’t think the ghost is the mother or daughter so they decide they need to head back to the house to investigate further. 

The family, breaking the county inspectors’ orders, decides to move in anyway. Ooohh, a little gas leak and asbestos never hurt anyone, ooohhhHH.

That night (where are Sam and Dean?), the son is busy playing video games, and avoiding unpacking. A ball rolls from his bedroom closet and he looks in to investigate. “It’s okay,” he tells the shadows. Then he plays a fun game of catch with the closet. 

Sam and Dean finally arrive, and see the family has moved in. Crap. 

Uncle Ted calls the parents into the living room. ‘GO’ is written in large red letters on the wall. How welcoming! 

Brian blames Danny instantly. Danny denies doing it, but the parents double down on the blame game. Danny insists that “the girl in the walls did it.” Uh, Danny, not helping your case. Danny CAN’T believe they don’t believe him when they send him to his room (lol, not much of a punishment, he just came from his room). Also, Andy would believe him, so there!

Kate is busy sulking in her bedroom when she starts petting Buster off screen. So, OF COURSE, it’s not the dog. He wanders in shortly after. Obligatory scream session activated. 

The daughter tells the parents there’s a ghost in the house. There’s a knock at the door and Sam and Dean bust in after hearing her screams. They tell the family there’s a ghost in the house. Kate is vindicated! 

Danny keeps talking about the Wall Girl. Dude, give it up. Buster escapes outside. The lights cut out just as Dean is yelling that they’re in danger. Then they hear whimpering outside. They rush out, and well, I’ll just direct you to this little website for the next scene. There’s blood all over the ground and a note written in blood: “too late”. 

Sam and Dean insist the family leave. They race to their cars and Dean finds the ghost did a real number on Baby. All tires are slashed and weapons are gone.

Hell Hath No Fury Like Dean Winchester when His Car’s Been Messed With:

(And for the record, I mistyped ‘car’ with ‘cas’. Still would work.)

Kate sees the ghost in the field. 

Sam and Dean can’t figure out how it’s outside. Now stuck on the property, they direct everyone back inside, and into a salt circle. They tell the family that this is what they do. The kid thinks it’s pretty cool that they’re like Scooby-Doo (Dean thinks he’s better --and we know now that his ghost hunting is just different.) 

Sam gets confirmation that the ghost is the daughter. He tells the family that she killed herself in the house. Uncle Ted’s better than all this, man, and starts to leave. Dean stops him with the threat of a bullet hole (I’m probably not reading too much into how violent Dean seems in this episode. They’re just people but he’s threatening to shoot the guy? I feel like we’re dealing with the aftermath of Hell for Dean and he’s still there at times.)

Ted decides to continue to needle the strangers in their home who threatened to shoot him. Something creaks in the house and a girl enters the room. 

Dean counsels them to stay calm and stay in the salt circle. The girl smirks and...crosses the salt circle, knife in hand. “She’s not a ghost,” Dean realizes, and engages in a one-sided knife battle with her. “Humans,” Dean spits out later in disgust as they try to wrap their heads around creepy, murderous Nell. 

Everyone gathers except...Danny. He’s missing! I experience some serious second-hand parent agony. Dean orders Susan and Kate to barricade themselves in the shed while the menfolk (pfft) search for Danny. 

Dean and Ted pop open a loose section of wall, releasing the strong smell of rotting flesh. “You smell that?” Ted asks. “Every day,” Dean replies and I die a little inside for him. 

Dean squeezes in between the extremely spacious wall cavities and finds A HOLE. He must go in THE HOLE. 

Downstairs, there are remnants of dead animals everywhere. But above Ted, something lurks. This is what you get for being the wisecracking brother. Ted eats a knife and bleeds out next to Dean.

For SOMEBODY HOLD MY TRAUMATIZED BOY Science:

Dean reunites with the family and reveals that Ted died. “I shouldn’t have left him alone,” Dean murmurs, STILL IN HIS GUILT COFFIN. Brian tries to reassure his wife that Danny’s been spared by the crazy murder girl living in their house. They reference some oblique, recent family trauma, which Brian later reveals was the death of their eldest son in a car crash. Dean promises to get Danny back “if it’s the last godforsaken thing I do.” GUH.

“Why do you care so much?” Brian asks. Oh, sweet sunshine. It’ll take many seasons to unpack that question. 

Sam pulls Dean aside. He’s been reading Rebecca’s diary (as he is wont to do) and discovered that the murder girl was likely her daughter and that Rebecca was raped by her father. “Oh, gross,” Dean neatly summarizes it. “Humans, man.”

Sam thinks that her life being like “hell” is no excuse. “Like you know what Hell’s like.” Dean accuses. OH MY GOD. Also, just give Sam some time, Dean Bean. Urg.

Danny wakes up, bound in the basement. Creepy girl climbs out of one of her holes. She brought her new best friend a fresh rat! When Danny implies (by screaming) that he isn’t hungry, she eats the rat. 

Dean insists on hurling himself down a dumbwaiter shaft. He vowed to save Danny. He NEEDS to save Danny! 

While Dean’s following a trail of guns to find Danny, murder girl is waging an assault on the shed. Untying Danny, Dean learns almost too late that the girl has an accomplice...her brother. 

DOUBLE UGH

Sam and Brian haul Danny to safety while Dean engages in fisticuffs with the brother. Dean shoots the crazed brother in the fight. Meanwhile, Brian drags the girl from the shed and kills her. He confronts his wife and daughter, holding a bloody knife. Erm. Awkward. 

The next morning, they fix tires (and Sam methodically arranges the contents of the Impala’s trunk). 

The family affirms their unity (and their shared trauma) and sends Dean and Sam back onto the road. 

They park under an overpass to eat. Except...Dean sets his burger down. WHEN A DOG DOESN’T EAT AMIRITE? Dean reveals his empathy for the murder siblings. “Lifelong torture” will do that to a person. 

Sam tries to assure him. “They were barely human.” Oh sunshine, wrong choice of words. Dean informs Sam that he was worse than them. (“Humans, man,” I hiss to myself.) Dean confesses that he tortured for the “sheer pleasure” of it. “I tortured souls and I liked it. All those years. All that pain. Finally getting to deal some out yourself.” He’ll never fill the hole in his soul, no matter how many people he saves. Excuse me while I think about the series end and allow the dark hole of a murder house to swallow me up.

My Favorite Murder Quotes:

You can’t run forever

The girl in the walls did it

What could possibly go wrong in the country?

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[maximoff-pan]

Realizations | Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: The four times you realize you’re in love with Steve Harrington, and the one time you actually tell him...

Character: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff (it starts off pretty fluffy and ends that way too....don’t worry y’all, I’m not that cruel), and there’s definitely some good ole angsty angst....because I’m an angsty bitch ;)

Word Count: 4.5 k (Holy moly...I think this is the longest thing I’ve written)

A/n: Okay, so, this wasn’t requested and I’m not sure anyone even wants this, but here we are. I kind of just felt like writing something for Steve again, so I went with the urge...Also, quick side note...but look at this gif. This is kind of (sort of) what I imagine Steve would look like if you told him you were in love with him, just utter shock, but definitely minus the fear...because bby boy doesn’t deserve to be afraid...And then he’d break out into a huge goofy smile, because he loves you back...

i.

It was no secret to anyone that you had a rocky history with Steve Harrington. He was, amongst the teens of Hawkins, the proclaimed ‘King of Hawkins High.’ The King Shit of all King Shits....And you weren’t one to bow down to his monarchy. Truthfully it wasn’t that you hated him, you’re not entirely sure you ever could. Because beneath all the hype, Steve Harrington was just lonely, and slightly broken. Despite the numbers of people that claimed to be his friend, who claimed to dream to be like him, not one of them actually wanted to be with him...the real him anyway. And you could see that better than anyone.

So when all shit broke loose, (quite literally) and you’d been reunited with the Steve Harrington that you’d once been friends with, you accepted him. It was a shock to your system to find your brother asking Steve Harrington of all people for help with the Demogorgons, and even more of a shock when he said yes. But most of all, it surprised you to see how genuinely him he was being with you. No bullshit. No facade. He was just Steve, a guy you happened to go to school with. You will admit, in the beginning he’d been a bit sheepish, apologizing for the way he had treated you in high school, how he’d ditched you for the crown, but then something in him shifted. You saw him smile, watched him laugh. Your little brother was breaking Steve out of his shell, and you were there to help him. And it was entirely breathtaking.

You remember that day clearly, the day you went searching for Dart. Dustin up ahead, bucket of meat in one hand, a walkie talkie in the other, as he curses himself for not paying enough attention to the presumably extra terrestrial creature that had eaten your cat. You lag behind, dragging your feet across the dry dirt floor, littered with leaves, Steve Harrington by your side. It’s a day you’d never forget.

“I know I’ve got a lot of making up to do.” Steve’s voice breaks the silence.

You let out a puff of air in agreement. “Oh?” You implore sarcastically. “What makes you think that?”

“A lot of things.” He replies truthfully, a shame in his tone. “I’ve been-uh...I’ve been an asshole, of royal proportions.” He continues. “And I’m more than ready to give up my crown.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat. Of course he’d refer to his King like status. “Ready to become a mere peasant like the rest of us?”

He nods his head, humming lightly. “I think so.” His voice is quiet...soft. Just like you remember it being.

“You really think you can handle it?” You jest, playfully elbowing him in the arm.

“Oh of course I can.” He replies. “Haven’t you heard? Steve Harrington can handle anything.”

“Anything?” You’re eyes widen jokingly, as a smirk slowly falls upon your features. “I mean, sign me up...This Steve Harrington character sounds hot.”

A laugh breaks through his lips, overtly noticeable. He knows you’re joking, but he can’t help but wish you weren’t. “Anything.” He confirms with a wink.

That had been the first day you’d noticed your affinity for Steve Harrington. It was like a magnet had been placed between the two of you, and even if the attraction on his side, wasn’t entirely there, yours was....and it constantly pulled you towards him, with a smile on your face and a flutter in your stomach. It was at first, very subtle and very slow, but soon, your heart would yearn for him, more than it had yearned for anything or anyone else before.

Nearly everything about Steve seemed to click with you that day. He was just like he once had been...happy. It was something almost unfamiliar to you, something you hadn’t seen in quite some time, but it certainly made you feel things. And that’s something that hadn’t necessarily clicked: those feelings. You didn’t know what they were, or how you should react to them. Because maybe they were nothing, but then again, maybe they weren’t and you were getting yourself into more trouble than you could handle. Maybe they were real...and maybe, just maybe you felt something for Steve Harrington, more than a friend should.

Oh dear, what had you gotten yourself into?

ii.

“Listen up shit heads!” Steve’s stance is so chaotically mom-like it makes you laugh.

Your living room is covered in pillows, blankets, couch cushions, and popcorn. Six young teens loudly shout begrudgingly at Steve, who’s holding the tv remote just out of reach. They’re watching Star Wars: A New Hope, (Mike’s choice), or at least they were before Steve snatched the remote from Dustin’s hand.

“What the fuck Steve?” Dustin snaps at the older teen, and sends him a murderous gaze.

“Language Dusin.” Your voice interrupts Steve’s train of thought.

“As if you fucking care.” Dustin shoots. “You’re just enforcing that rule ‘cause Steve’s here.” He’s right, the little bastard...(and you hate to admit it) but you swear a decent amount yourself, and as long as Dustin isn’t using foul language in school or calling anyone harshly directed names, you don’t particularly enforce the no swearing rule that Steve does.

You shrug your shoulders, shifting your body towards Steve. “He’s got a point.”

“(Y/n).” Steve whines. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“And I am.”

“No you’re not.” He swings the remote jovially in the air, a mock pout breaking onto his face.

There’s that flutter again. You can feel it in your chest, your eyes trained on Steve’s face softly. It’s something that you just can’t seem to help, and it’s always sudden. Sometimes it’s not there. You can be around Steve for hours, and you’re cool with it...with him. But then out of nowhere this light headed feeling over takes you. Your heartbeat quickens, and you feel nothing but pure happiness and oddly comfort in his presence.

“I promise.” Your voice doesn’t waver. “I am always on your side.” It’s said as a joke, but you know better than anyone that it’s not.

There’s something behind your tone that Steve picks up on. Whether you intended upon it, it comes through loud and clear. I care about you. I am always going to be here for you. And it makes Steve smile. Whether the kids notice this too, he doesn’t know, nor does he care, but suddenly, and out of nowhere, he feels this pull to you like he’s never felt before.

What is this feeling? What does it mean?

iii.

Right off the bat you knew Steve Harrington would be trouble. Being friends with him again would inevitably hurt you...hurt him too. But you found yourself far too often, pushing that aside because of how much you cared for him. You worked well with each other, but you also knew that when the two of you were together, you were two fires, beautifully glowing together, until someone went too far and got burned.

You knew this, you knew it better than anything...and yet it wasn’t until the day Steve hurt Dustin, that he upset Dustin more than you’d ever seen him before, that you couldn’t unsee it. Dustin was your everything, and you’d be damned if Steve Harrington hurt your little brother.

That afternoon, he’d yelled...oh god had he yelled. Steve had just gotten back from seeing his parents, and he was completely on edge. They’d cursed him out, told him he had no future. Told him that he was a disappointment, a failure. And for the first time in his life, his father had hit him. It was quick, one harsh punch to the face and Steve was out of there faster than he’d ever raced out of his house. It was always a house...never a home, like yours was. You and Dustin had each other, you were each other’s homes, and Steve was alone. (You wouldn’t find out about what happened until much later, but by then, you’d already jumped fiercely to protect your little brother)....

It’s all quiet at the Henderson household until Dustin comes bounding out your front door, seeing Steve’s car parked out in front of your house, and starts asking if he wants to go to Mike’s and play some DnD with the Party. Steve tries to remain calm. He really does.

But Dustin keeps asking and asking, pulling Steve out of his car, and Steve just....snaps. “Dustin, do you ever think maybe I don’t want to hang out with you?”

Dustin’s eyes are wide open now, shock evident in his features. “Steve-” He recoils.

“No seriously Dustin.” Steve gestures, slightly aggressive, posture stiff and clearly frustrated. “Do you ever think that I’m just friends with you,” he moves his fingers, signalling air quotes around the word friends, “because your mother asked me to be? Because your sister wants me to be?”

He doesn’t mean it...more than anything he doesn’t mean it, but he can’t help the words from falling from his lips. It’s as if he needs to find someone to blame for his failures, and that person right now, in this moment, is Dustin Henderson: his best friend. He loves Dustin, it’s a love he’s never felt before, brotherly and wholesome...but Steve Harrington is nothing if not the King of destroying good, solid relationships.

You’re standing at your front door, listening to the exchange, and it’s certainly not what you expected from Steve. Even from a distance, you can see the tears threatening to leave your brother’s eyes as he fights to hold them back. Steve is now another person on the long list of people that have betrayed Dustin, that clearly don’t want him around. He’d already experienced having a father leave him...you don’t know if he could take losing a brother too.

“Dustin.” You storm down your front steps and out towards Steve and your brother. “Go inside.”

“But (Y/n)-” He tries.

“Just go inside.” You point at him gently, showing him that you’re not mad at him. The only person you’re angry with, is Steve. “I’ll be in in a few.”

Dustin nods his head solemnly, agreeing almost silently, before giving you a quiet, “okay.”

“You,” you point at Steve, venom in your tone. “In the car. Now.”

Steve obeys, watching as you open the car door and jump in the passenger seat. “Henderson.” He starts, using your last name. He only does that to tease you, or when he’s uncomfortable, and clearly in this circumstance, it’s the latter.

“Just drive.”

“Where?” He asks timidly.

“Somewhere quiet.” You reply.

And Steve knows exactly where to go. Just off the edge of Hawkins, and a couple minutes of a walk into the woods, there’s a wide clearing that he goes to when he needs to clear his mind. He knows that you’ve been to it many times....you were actually the one to bring Steve there once, and he can’t help the fear that creeps up in his chest.

The car ride is only around fifteen minutes, but it’s the longest fifteen minutes of Steve’s life. You haven’t said anything, and neither has he, not wanting to cause a scene out in public. But when you get there, car parked, having found your way into the clearing, Steve feels the adrenaline rush of fear shoot through him, and he’s sure he can feel the anger radiating off you.

“What the fuck Harrington?” Your eyes shoot daggers at him.

He stutters his way through a response. “I-I do-don’t know.”

This is how it starts: you’re angry and he’s terrified. And you have every right to be angry, but soon enough, Steve’s fear will morph into his own anger, and he doesn’t want that to happen. So he tries to remain afraid...but how long that will last, he doesn’t know.

“What’s gotten into you Steve?” You ask, seething at him.

“I’m sorry.” He replies, feeling his own anger starting to rise.

You wave off his apology with a scoff. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. I mean, how could you do that to Dustin?” You ask, genuine curiosity in your voice. “Do you know how much he loves you? And after everything he’s been through...I-I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get him to trust another man like he trusts you.”

“Well it shouldn’t be my responsibility to take care of him.” You’ve struck a nerve he didn’t know you could hit, and now Steve’s tone is ice cold, removed from himself.

“Take care of him?” You shout incredulously. “Holy shit, who do you think you are?”

Steve takes a step toward you menacingly. “Well I’m just his goddamn babysitter aren’t I? Because your mother’s too busy to do it herself.”

That’s a low blow and he knows it, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s already said it. You can hear his breathing, ragged and rushed, surely it matches your own. And you’re fuming. All you can see is red.

“You haven’t changed at all Harrington.” You snarl darkly. “You’re the same asshat, same arrogant, pompous King of Hawkins that you once were, that you always were. And I hated you then Steve! I hated you!”

You’re saying the one thing that he knows can break him: You haven’t changed. You’re still the same. Your parents are right about you. You’ll never amount to anything. And it feels like you’re giving up on him, just like his parent did. Just like everyone else does.

“And if you haven’t changed now, then I guess I still hate you.”

That’s all it takes for Steve to choke out a sob. He’s fallen to his knees, breathing erratic and panicked.

Fighting with Steve isn’t rational. You know you should’ve figured out why he lashed out at Dustin before you lashed out at him. It’s a vicious cycle of rage that could’ve been avoided, despite your anger being warranted. You’re a firm believer that there’s always a reason for things, and right now you just wished you had have waited to find out that reason, because maybe you wouldn’t be in this position right now.

You’re in a state of shock and denial at the man before you. He looks broken, like a little boy beaten down by his parents (unknowingly, this is exactly how Steve feels...exactly why he’s acting the way he’s acting). Your breathing softens and your gaze lowers to him. Why did you say those things? You didn’t think they could hurt him that much. If you’re being honest, you’ve never seen Steve this distraught, and it’s something you’re sure you never want to see again.

“My parents.” He manages to choke out, as you kneel beside him. “I saw my parents.” He says louder. And you’re now just noticing the deep purple bruise forming around his left eye. How could you not have noticed? Did your anger truly blind you to his pain?

“Steve.” You place you’re hand gently on his shoulder. “Did your father do this to you?”

He nods, wiping away the tears before saying, “He’s never done it before. But he was just so angry. I’ve never seen him like that.”

You notice how he avoids directly confirming that his father had hit him. He doesn’t want to believe it happened, and you can understand why...because admitting it directly, makes it more real. “Oh.” You mumble in response, not quite sure what to say.

“He said I’d never be worth anything. That’d I’d always be the son they never wanted.” He pulls his face into his hands, sucking a long breath in. “And I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it hurts. It just hurts so much.”

“Oh Steve.” You pull him into your touch, embracing him softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“And I didn’t mean to hurt Dustin.” He says, a wave of hurt rushing through him. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I just, I snapped.”

You bring your fingers to his chin, tilted his head towards your face. “I know.” You whisper. “I’ll tell him that. And you know he’ll always forgive you. He loves you too much to let you go.”

Your heart races as you wrap him in your embrace, trying gently to calm him down, to reassure him of his place in your family. It’s in that moment that you realize just how much you love him. Like the day you’d searched for Dart, it’s sudden and gradual, but now that you’ve truly realized it, things are surely about to change. And hopefully for the better.

Holy fuck...you’re in love with Steve Harrington.

iv.

It’s been nearly a year since your spat with Steve (and since you realized you were in love with Steve, but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves...) and a lot of shit has happened since. One major addition to your make shift family of misfits and losers (as you like to call it) is Robin Buckley. Oh how Robin had changed your life...

She’d come into it at just the right time. Steve had gotten a summer job at Scoop’s Ahoy, while you had gotten a job at the Gap. It was the only one available, and you weren’t entirely picky as long as the job paid. The bright side of said job though, was using your breaks to come and visit Steve (and vice versa), get some free ice cream (Steve always insisted that you never pay), and most importantly, you got to meet Robin Buckley.

It’s something that must be said: Robin Buckley is no fool. She knows that, you know that, everybody in the entirety of Hawkins knows that. It’s clear as day how in love with each other you and Steve are...and when she continuously tells you that, you never believe her. (She tells Steve the same thing, multiple times a day, and he never seems to believe her either). Since your fight, and specifically since you made up, you and Steve have never been closer. (All the more reason for Robin to pester you about being in love with each other...). You guess you can also blame the whole battle of star court mall shit (included with crazy secret Russians and everything)....it had made you a lot closer. Shared trauma will do that to you...

But now, you, Steve, and Robin work at the video store, and your love for Steve certainly hasn’t gone away. You’re getting pretty terrible at hiding it, or at least you think so, (and Robin does too).

“If you keep staring at him like that, your jaw’s going to fall off.” She grins cheekily at you. You’re watching Steve as he intently listens to Dustin and Mike animatedly talk about some movie they’re desperate to watch.

“Shut up Robin.” You shoot back at her, folding your arms across your chest. “I’m not staring.”

She dismisses you with the wave of her hand. “You know, if you really like him, there’s this thing you could try.” She pauses as you gesture for her to continue. “It’s called asking him out dingus.”

Usually Robin reserves the ‘dingus title’ for Steve only, but today the honour is yours. “I know.” You sigh. “But I can’t do that. It’ll only make things weird.”

“Even if you really want to kiss him?” She asks, placing the emphasis on really.

“Even if I really want to kiss him.” You reply, letting out a wanting sigh.

“Even if he really wants to kiss you?” She pushes with a smirk on her face.

“Even if he.....What?” You squeak in surprise, having not expected her question.

At your exclamation, Steve quickly glances over to you and Robin. He tilts his head with a confused expression on his face, before giving you both a cheery smile. When Robin turns her head after waving him off, and flipping him the bird, he sends you a devilish wink. It sends shivers down your spine, and you try desperately to send him back a semi-composed smile of your own. God, you really do want to kiss him...

It’s officially a fact. You’re in love with Steve Harrington, and there’s no getting out of it.

v.

You and Steve are sitting on the front steps to your house, waiting for Dustin to bike his way home from Mike’s. The sun is setting, it’s quiet and peaceful. Something you haven’t experienced much since Dustin brought Steve back into your life. Despite the lack of normalcy in the past couple of years, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You’ve gained a best friend, someone you can trust more than anyone in the world (besides your brother of course)....And you’ve fallen in love. Not that Steve knows. But you’re grateful to him all the same, for showing you what falling in love can feel like.

“You ever think about us?” Steve asks suddenly. It’s a question you’re not sure how to interpret.

“Us?” You lift your head from his shoulder curiously.

“Yeah, like-“ He sits up, facing you now, hands gesturing widely. “Like us, us. Together us.” He says. “Like what would’ve happened if you hadn’t forgiven me...if Dustin hadn’t forgiven me. Would we still be close?”

“Oh.” You trail off. That’s what he meant. You, Dustin, and Steve ‘us’. For a second you thought he actually might love you too. “I don’t know.” You admit.

He ponders your response for a second. “I’m glad you forgave me. That you both forgave me.”

You’re glad you forgave him too. After what his parents had said to him, you couldn’t imagine letting him go back to them that night. All alone, and terrified. You’re even more glad that Dustin had taken to forgiving him so quickly. All Steve had to do was apologize, briefly explaining that he wasn’t in the right mind set, and Dustin ran straight to Steve, engulfing him in the largest hug. Dustin had told Steve that he loved him that day. Steve had said it back. Something you’re not sure you’ll ever have the courage to do. But it warmed your heart to see Dustin open his heart to someone else.

“You’re a good person.” You state.

You say it with so much meaning, but it’s a sentence Steve doubts about himself everyday. He loves Dustin, he loves you, (he’s in love with you really), and he’d do anything for the two of, but he doesn’t feel like a good person. More or less, he’s often afraid that he’ll turn back into who he used to be, the Steve that had all the girls, and all the friends in the world, but still felt lonelier than he’d ever felt.

“I don’t-” He starts. “What if I’m not? I mean, what if what you said a year ago is true?” You can hear the insecurity, the anxiety in his tone. “What if I haven’t changed?”

“You have.” You reassure him. “You,” You point to him seriously, trying desperately to convince him, as you bring your hand gently to his cheek, “You are a good person Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to your lips. He wants to kiss you....more than anything in the world he wants to kiss you, but is that what you want too?

“I meant it when I asked if you ever thought about us.” He says as you remove your hand from his cheek. “I think about it all the time.” He reveals. “What it would be like if you loved me like I love you. If you loved me the way I love you.”

Your eyebrows raise at his words. “I have.” You state, before realizing the tense you’re speaking in. Have means past tense...you’ve certainly been thinking about it in the present. “I do.” You clarify.

“And.” Steve implores hopefully.

“I guess I was just scared to say anything because if you didn’t feel the same way...” you trail off. “I just couldn’t risk it.”

Steve’s voice is soft, like silk and honey. “But I do feel the same way.”

Your eyes search his for any sign of doubt. When you don’t find any, a beaming smile breaks out onto your face. “You do?”

“I always have.” He confirms, placing a hand on your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

It’s a question you never thought Steve would ask you, one you dreamed about so often, wishing that maybe he could feel the same way. That familiar flutter that you’d become so accustomed to when you’re around Steve is back. And this time, it’s much stronger. Because it’s filled with hope, knowing that this is actually going to happen. He does feel the same way.

You nod your head in response before Steve leans down to meet your lips. His kiss is sweet and gentle, and while you’re not sure if it’s perfect to him, it is perfect to you. You’re putting all your love into this kiss, hoping that he understands just what you’re trying to say through it.

You take a quick breath before his lips are back on yours, this time more comfortably. Steve is confident about his actions, a hand resting on your waist, and the other still gracing your cheek. He can feel you smiling into the kiss as you begin to pull away once again, a joyful laugh bubbling in your throat.

“I love you (Y/n) Henderson.” He breathes. And you know it’s true. You can see it in the way he looks at you, so much so that you’re sure he can see just how much you love him through your gaze as well. “I’m in love with you.”

“I love you.” You respond, heart full of freedom and joy. “And just so you know...” you trail off, remembering the words you said to him nearly two years ago, “this Steve Harrington character, he really is hot....and a pretty damn good kisser.”

You let out a sigh, resting your head back on Steve’s shoulder. You’re both very content, breathing steady and calm. And it’s honestly quite fitting, the way your relationship is to begin, sitting on the front steps to your house, waiting for Dustin. Dustin had reintroduced you to each other, after all those years, bringing your friendship back to a blossom. He’s the reason you allowed yourself to fall for Steve in the first place, so it’s entirely convenient that you’ll spend your first moments as a couple in love, waiting to reintroduce your relationship to Dustin. He had made it possible after all....

And if there’s one thing you and Steve both know for sure, it’s that Dustin will approve. He’s been waiting for this for two years, watching you dance around each other and fall in love, (you also know that Robin will be overjoyed too...). And the most important thing of all: Steve had found a true home, and that home was with you and Dustin.

Steve Harrington will always be a Henderson (if not by birth or blood, then certainly by love), no matter what. And you’d always love him for it.

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