#amber heard deserves better

[originalleftist]

When I see celebrities engaging in political/social activism, I can't help but think of one person we're not seeing. One we'll probably never see.

For a few years, Amber Heard was a rising activist and philanthropist actively working on various humanitarian causes, appearing at protests, being an ambassador for the ACLU and UN. And yes, her much-vilified donations, which she did not keep for herself as was portrayed, but was donating in multiple payments over time as planned until Depp's litigation placed her in financial jeopardy (organizations often prefer and ask for regularly recurring donations over one lump payment, as it helps with longterm planning).

Though I like her performances, her work in this regard was arguably more significant than anything she did as an actor. This wasn't just something she did for the PR or tax breaks either, because she has reportedly volunteered to help those less fortunate since she was some no-name middle-class high school kid.

But you never see a whisper from her about any social issue or cause now. I don't know if that's because the relentless harassment and destruction of her career and reputation she received for trying to stand up for abuse survivors crushed that part of her, and I wouldn't blame her if it did- or if she stays quiet because she knows her reputation has been so tarnished that her public support would likely be a liability for any cause she believed in.

And either possibility is heart-breaking

[fancylala4]

Fuck James Wan. That excuse for amber barely being in aquaman 2 was complete bullshit. I hope this movie flops.

[postmodern-neon-marxist]

johnny depp, a serial abuser whose violent outbursts have gotten him in legal trouble multiple times, who was preying on 17-year-old winona ryder when he was 26 and amber heard was a toddler, and who is besties with a wide variety of other abusers (marilyn manson, harvey weinstein, roman polanski, etc), perpetrated a wide variety of abuser tactics and violence against amber heard, including demanding that her nurse (who was on his payroll) drug her into submission

heard initiated divorce proceedings in 2016, got a restraining order against depp (she had a bruise on her face during the hearing for it), it was finalized in early 2017 with both of them signing an n.d.a.

in 2018 the sun, a british tabloid, published an article calling jk rowling a hypocrite for supporting johnny depp, whom they initially called a "wife-beater" before editing out that specific wording. depp filed a defamation lawsuit in the u.k. with his putinist oligarch lawyer, which he lost spectacularly despite u.k. libel laws being heavily favorable for complainants. notably the sun's defense was purely a "these allegations are true" one, not a "you can't prove these allegations aren't true" one or a "this doesn't technically count as defamation" one or whatever; the judge found

later in 2018, depp arranged articles in rolling stone and gq that were supposed to burnish his image and attack heard's but arguably did the opposite. another few months after that, heard had an editorial published in the washington post saying, without mentioning depp by name, that she was a "public figure representing domestic abuse" and had seen "how institutions protect men accused of abuse".

depp then sued her for defamation over this editorial, resulting in the trial you're probably talking about. the lawsuit was so obviously frivolous and venue-shopped from the beginning that virginia passed anti-slapp legislation in response.

there were massive amounts of inauthentic social media activity targeting and spreading lies about heard (many of which, like "she pooped on the bed!!1!!" or "she cut off his finger!!!1", fall apart the instant you look at them), from which the u.s. jurors were not sequestered. jurors also kept falling asleep during testimony. a juror also said the jury "essentially dismissed all witnesses on both sides who were employees, paid experts, friends or family from either side." the same juror also said the relationship was mutually abusive, which you would think contradicts the verdict that implying depp is abusive is defamatory.

domestic violence experts btw have been lopsidedly in favor of amber heard the whole time.

at any rate, the absurd u.s. verdict (unlike the u.k. verdict which still stands, having held up on appeal twice) was superseded by depp and heard's out-of-court settlement, which cut the amount of money heard would have had to pay depp by almost 90% and did not impinge on heard's right to talk about depp's abuse of her, which to me suggests that depp was afraid that heard's appeal would see even more success than that.

I purposefully avoided as much of the Johnny Depp/Amber Heard trial as I could, would anyone be willing to sum up what exactly happened

.

[traumatizedjaguar]

I think what people need to understand about being abused is victims aren’t supposed to be what you expect them to be; they aren’t supposed to be perfect little angels. There are times during the abuse, where, if there was a minor annoyance in the room completely unrelated to my abuser abusing me, I’d lash out horrifically and loudly at my abuser for an annoyance; that, say for instance if I wasn’t with an abuser or being abused during those times and that same annoyance popped up, I wouldn’t have lashed out at all but if I did I’d be the abuser. To back that up, I’ve been annoyed plenty of times around non-abusive people and never raged at them for it. Why did I react like that with my abusers if that particular thing wasn’t abusing me, if that specific thing wasn’t even remotely harmful? Amber Heard did the same thing from the 18 hours of audio I listened to; I related a lot to her lashing out. Looking at my relationships to my abusers, they all abused me first before all that aggression started popping up later on which is what we obviously call reactive abuse. And then the gaslighting follows immediately after. I decided to make this post bc I was reminded of a particular event with my abusers where this happened and I remembered feeling awful that I didn’t handle it better but could you blame me? No, because I was in the midst of their constant abuse, I wasn’t well nor was I listened to.

[sneeplerbeepler]

i hope everyone who joined the amber heard hate train back in 2022 dies horrifically btw

[burningtheroots]

One of the things I‘m most ashamed of is that I used to believe Johnny Depp‘s fans and almost jumped onto the bandwagon.

It‘s not that the entire story didn’t seem icky to me — in fact, it did — but everything seemed to be in his favor and everyone painted Amber Heard as the devil, and discussions about domestic violence against men came up …

And as a good liberal feminist, I wanted to join those who were like "See, we also support men, we don’t hate them! We hold women accountable just as much!" without digging deeper into it.

I didn’t say anything against Amber, just in case it might hurt the wrong person (and it would have), but I still regret "siding" with Depp and saying positive things about him here & there, even when those were just repititions from his fans.

And I suspect that I‘m not the only one who doesn’t actually trust him, but wants to be "safe" and perceived as "good". I thought it‘d help women if women collectively showed support for a man, too, but it did the opposite.

That‘s one of the reasons I reject mainstream "feminism". It‘s nothing but brainwashing and male-catering.

[levisjinchuriki]

truly, madly, deeply - toji fushiguro

summary: since you left him, toji has been indulging in nothing but bad habits. he makes an impulsive decision stumbling home from the bar one night

warning: post-breakup angst, mentions of heavy drinking, depression, being numb, a whole lot of angst

it’s late—too late for toji to still be out. the bar is nearly empty, quiet except for the scraping sound of chairs as the staff begins their nightly routine of wiping tables and stacking stools. the bartender shoots toji an unimpressed glance as he sets down another glass of whiskey in front of him, grumbling about closing tabs soon. toji doesn’t argue, just wraps his calloused fingers around the glass and lets the amber liquid burn as it slides down his throat. it’s painful, but the familiar sting is something he’s come to crave recently. as much as it hurts, he tries to savor the taste before throwing some cash on the table and heading out.

it’s the kind of quiet that makes the weight in his chest feel unbearable, pressing harder against ribs that have long since forgotten what it’s like to feel light. 

he stumbles out of the bar, unsteady on his feet, muttering curses under his breath as he fumbles for his phone in his coat pocket. outside, the cold bites at his skin, the damp air clinging to him as the rain had never truly stopped. 

the screen glows dimly, the battery dangerously low, but it’s enough to illuminate the list of names he hasn’t touched in weeks. his thumb hovers over the screen, scrolling sluggishly past contacts that don’t matter. then he sees your name. and time stands still. 

for a long moment, all he can do is stare. his thumb trembles, hesitating, like his drunk mind is at war with itself. there’s a part of him that knows better, that knows he should put the phone back in his pocket and walk away. but the other part—the louder, more desperate part—wins. his thumb moves, and the call begins to ring.

once. twice. three times.

toji squeezes his eyes shut, already regretting his actions. he’s not your problem anymore. he lost the right to call you, to hear your voice, to ask for comfort. and yet, here he is, a fool hoping for a miracle at a time when no one should be awake.

“toji?”

he freezes. he hasn’t heard your voice in… how long has it been? the days have blurred together into a haze of alcohol and sleepless nights since you left. he grips the phone tighter, his throat suddenly dry.

“hey” he drawls. there’s a pause on your end. he cringes when he hears a muffled yawn from you. 

“it’s late. are you okay?”. your voice is soft, groggy from the sleep he undoubtedly pulled you from. his heart breaks at the sound of it. 

“yeah. -m fine. jus’….” he slurs. 

“toji… are you drunk?” your voice, laced with concern, strikes a nerve. you sound just as worried as it always did when it came to him, a tone he doesn’t think he deserves anymore. you’ve seen these parts of him before—the ones he hides from the world but somehow always let slip in front of you. 

“nah” he lies. “just a little… tipsy”. his feet shuffle clumsily against the wet pavement as he stumbles down the block. he feels everything and nothing all at once—silly, hopeless, in love, and heartbroken. 

“toji–” your voice is soft but unmistakably disappointed. it’s a tone he’s heard before, one that digs under his ski. he knows that sound. it’s the same one you used to have when he broke promises, when he let you down, when he let himself down.

there are countless reasons why you and toji aren’t together anymore—reasons that keep replaying in his mind whenever he has too much to drink. but none of those reasons stop you from caring about him, even now. and that makes it worse somehow.

“listen…” his voice drops lower, thick with the slur of alcohol. “i know it’s late. s’probably real stupid to call, huh?”. he laughs, but it’s half-hearted, a dry, almost painful sound.

your silence is heavy and suffocating. toji knows you’re probably shaking your head right now, caught between concern and frustration. he can picture it so clearly—how you’re probably biting your lip, wanting to say something but holding back. it almost makes him smile.

as the silence stretches, the sound of heavy rainfall in the background fills the space, a constant, rhythmic sound that matches the beat of his tired, aching heart.

“where are you?” you ask, your voice barely audible above the rain.

he blinks, his mind swimming in a fog that doesn’t seem to clear. he’s disoriented for a second, now realizing that he’s walked in the wrong direction. “why?” he mumbles, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

“because i’m coming to get you” you reply, your tone gentle but firm. “you shouldn’t be out alone”. toji closes his eyes for a moment, your words sinking in, a warmth creeping through his chest despite the alcohol and the cold rain. he hears the shuffle of movement on your end of the line, and he can almost see it—the way you’re probably slipping into those ridiculous bunny slippers he always teased you about. 

a small, tired smile threatens to break through as leans back against a lamppost. “don’t bother” he mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “i’m fine”. another lie, but he doesn’t expect you to believe it.

“tell me where you are” you demand. he’ll take your tone over no contact with you any day. 

“always so good. so… responsible” he mutters, the words slurring as his mind drifts. “you don’t gotta save me, y’know? i’m fine. always fine” he drags out.

“toji, tell me where you are” your voice is stern. it’s the same tone you used when he was in trouble, the same one you’d use when he messed up, the same one you used when you finally told him you were done.

he slumps against the cold, damp wall of the nearest building, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. he mutters the name of the street, barely audible, his words jumbled and ragged.

“i’m on my way” you tell him. there’s a brief pause before you add, “stay there”. for once, he listens. toji just stands there– drunk, stupid, soaked and numb to the rain as it continues to hit him. 

he doesn’t know how long it takes before your car finally pulls up. the headlights shine bright, momentarily blinding him. he blinks a few times and there you are—stepping out of the car, pulling a coat around yourself and wondering how he’s been out here this long. you look at him, and for a split second, toji sees everything he’s been trying to drown out. disappointment flickers behind your eyes, sharp and painful. but there’s something else there too—worry. 

“toji…” you sigh, a sound filled with exhaustion. he feels it in his chest like a punch. he’s happy to see you, but upset that you’re out here in the storm, chasing after him like this.

“you didn’t have to come” he mutters, but even as he says it, he stands up straighter—forcing himself to make the effort, even if it’s not convincing. his legs feel heavy, like they’re made of lead, but he tries to pull himself together. he doesn’t want you to see how much he’s been drowning.

your gaze doesn’t miss anything. he’s drenched, soaked to the bone, his clothes clinging to him, but worse than that—he’s drunk. and sad. more sad than he’s let on, even to himself. he knows it. you know it. it’s clear to you both that he hasn’t been taking care of himself—not in the way you always hoped he would.

“get in the car” you say, the command simple but firm. your voice is steady, unaffected by the storm, and it somehow cuts through the haze of his thoughts.

he doesn’t argue. not with you. not when you’re looking at him like that, not when he knows you’re right, and you’ve always been right about him.

---

the drive is quiet at first. the only sound is the soft hum of the heat, keeping toji from succumbing to hypothermia, and the rain as it taps steadily against the windshield. toji sits slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes half-lidded as he stares out the window. his gaze is distant, unfocused—lost in the mess of his own thoughts.

“you shouldn’t drink like this,” you say, breaking the silence. your voice is soft but firm. “it’s dangerous.”

toji doesn’t respond immediately. you can see the way his jaw tightens, his shoulders stiffen just slightly. he’s a big guy, tough, but even toji has his limits. he might not show it, but you know how close he is to the edge. and tonight, it’s clear that he’s just a few drinks away from being completely inebriated.

“don’t start with me” he mutters, his voice rough with frustration. you’ve heard that tone before—the one he gets when he’s pushed, when he knows he’s in the wrong but doesn’t want to hear it.

you sigh quietly to yourself, knowing exactly where this conversation is going. you’d always had a habit of acting like his mother, trying to take care of him, trying to get him to listen to reason. it’s inevitable, really—toji always acted like a child in so many ways, and you, stubborn as you are, always fell into the role of the one who tried to save him.

“how many times have i—” you begin, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

“i know!” he snaps, his voice sharper than he means it to be. “i know, alright?”

the words hang in the air between you, heavy with the tension that always lingers when the two of you argue. you’re quiet for a moment, the only sound now the swish of the windshield wipers fighting against the rain.

you grip the steering wheel a little tighter, steadying yourself. the urge to push, to argue further, is strong, but you know better than to start that fight now. the last thing he needs is more words thrown at him, more of your frustration tangled up in his guilt.

right now isn’t the time to argue.

"then why?" you ask quietly, your voice barely rising above the sound of rain hitting the car.

toji presses his head back against the seat and lets out a humorless laugh. “why not?” he replies, his words slurred but sharp enough to sting.

you furrow your brows. he’s being difficult, like always—pushing you away with his deflection, his refusal to take anything seriously. “that’s not an answer” you say, glancing at him briefly before returning your eyes to the road.

toji turns his head to look at you then, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the car. the streetlights outside streak shadows across his face, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes, the weariness etched into his features. he looks tired—not just from tonight, but from everything.

“i don’t owe you an answer” he says after a moment, his voice quieter now.

it’s true. he doesn’t owe you anything, not after everything. not after the way you left, after the way you shattered him. you feel a pang of guilt in your chest, sharp and unforgiving, but you push it down.

“i’d still like to know” you admit, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

he doesn’t respond right away. instead, he turns his gaze back to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. the silence stretches between you again, heavy and unyielding, but you don’t press him further. you’ve learned by now that toji won’t be pushed into answers he’s not ready to give.

the road ahead blurs slightly through the rain, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to bridge the distance between the two of you.

he scoffs, turning his gaze back to the window. “what’s the point?”. it’s not a question meant for you—it’s one he’s been asking himself for a while now. you chew on your bottom lip, trying to think of what to say next, though you’re not sure anything will make a difference.

“you don’t always have to carry everything by yourself” you finally sigh.

toji snorts, a bitter sound that cuts through the tension. “yeah? and who’s gonna help me? you?”

the sharpness in his tone catches you off guard, and you flinch despite yourself. his words hit harder than they should, not because they’re unfair, but because they’re true. you left. you made the choice to walk away, and now you’re here, pretending you can fix something that might never be fixable.

he notices. if there’s one thing toji’s always been good at, it’s noticing things, even when he’s drunk and falling apart. he exhales heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “sorry” he mutters, his voice quieter now. “i didn’t mean that”.

you know he didn’t. toji’s harsh words were never the ones that hurt the most—it’s the truth buried in them that stings.

“it’s fine” you reply quietly, your gaze fixed on the road ahead. but it’s not fine, and you both know it.

neither of you says anything for the rest of the drive. the rain continues to tap against the windshield as the distance between you grows wider.

---

toji doesn’t move after you park your car. he just sits there, staring blankly at the dashboard like it holds answers to questions he’ll never ask. his shoulders are slumped, his jaw tight. even with the alcohol dulling his senses, his thoughts refuse to let him rest.

“you wanna go inside?” you turn to look at him, suppressing the urge to reach over.

he blinks, the question pulling him back to the present. “yeah” he mutters, but his body remains rooted to the seat.

you don’t rush him. moments like these are rare—when toji lets you see him vulnerable. it’s heartbreaking, and it makes you ache in ways you thought you’d forgotten.

instead of pressing him, you wait. he’s always been a man who needs time to gather himself. and tonight, for whatever reason, he’s letting you stay long enough to witness it.

eventually, he exhales, a slow, shaky breath that seems to release some of the tension coiled in his chest.

finally, toji looks at you. really looks at you. his eyes are glassy, the alcohol making them more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time.

“you’re too good for this” he says, his voice heavy with sadness. it’s not just the words that hit you—it’s the way he says them, like he’s admitting something he’s been too scared to face. for the first time, toji acknowledges there’s something wrong with him. that something is his fault.

“for what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“for me” he says almost defeated. “i’m no good. i’m just… this” he gestures vaguely at himself, his hand falling back to his side as if the effort of even that small movement is too much.

it’s clear in the way he’s looking at you that he means it. that he’s thought about this, felt it deep in his bones. you’re not sure if he’d ever admit it sober, but tonight, it’s out there in the open.

you don’t know what to say to that. words feel inadequate, like they’ll only make things worse. 

“you should get some rest” you whisper instead. “it’s late”.

toji releases a breath, his gaze shifting to your apartment building. he’s been here countless times before. but it’s different now. where he used to feel at home, he suddenly feels like a stranger. 

“okay”. his footsteps echo softly behind you.

when he walks in, all the memories come rushing back. the faint scent of the candle you always light fills his nose. the throw blanket draped over the couch is in the same place it’s always been. even the little details—the spaces in your home where you’d made room for him—are still there. his boots still sit by the door, his favorite mug in the cabinet, the sweatshirt he thought he’d lost folded neatly.

you lead him to your room without a word, offering him a towel and setting a pair of dry clothes on the bed. they’re his– clothes he left behind when things fell apart. you didn’t have the heart to throw them out, and he didn’t have the heart to come back for them.

“you’ll get sick” you mutter, setting a black shirt and grey sweats on the bathroom sink before turning to leave. you always fussed over him like this—still do, even now. toji doesn’t know what to do with the tight ache in his chest. he wants to cry.

by the time he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in warm clothes, he hears the hum of the dryer from the hallway. of course, you’d snuck in while he was washing up to scoop his sopping clothes off the floor.

in your room, you’re finishing fixing the bed, smoothing the sheets and adding extra pillows—just the way he likes. it doesn’t escape him, the way you still remember these small details.

“i can take the couch” he says, his voice low and reluctant.

you shake your head, dismissing the offer as you grab a pillow and blanket for yourself. “sleep” you say firmly, leaving no room for argument.

he hesitates for a moment, but the exhaustion weighing on him makes it hard to fight back. his body aches for rest, and though a part of him wants to address the unspoken words that hang heavy between you, he knows it’s not the time. 

“we’ll talk later” you whisper as you step toward the door, your hand brushing the light switch.

toji watches you for a moment, standing there in the dim glow of the hallway. his throat tightens, and he wants to say something—anything—but no words come out. instead, he nods silently as you turn off the light and leave him alone in the room.

“thanks” he murmurs, his voice so quiet it’s almost lost in the stillness of the room. but you hear it.

toji lies awake in the bed you once shared, staring at the ceiling. the familiarity of it all threatens to undo him—the soft sheets, the faint scent of you lingering on the pillow. it’s overwhelming. 

he wonders, not for the first time, how someone like you ever loved him. the thought twists in his chest, sharp with regret. he thinks about how things ended, how he pushed you away, and yet here you are—offering him kindness he doesn’t deserve.

the bed feels empty without you beside him, but as his heavy eyelids finally close, he clings to the comfort of your lingering presence. it’s enough, for now, to ease the ache as he drifts off to sleep.

---

to be continued... thank you for reading!!!

part 2

[plumeria1]

Jinx new friend

Masterlist

Note : Jinx and Isha deserved more time together 😢 Hope you like it 😉

Warning : None

Content : Fluff and a bit of angst ? (I'm not sure)

Pairing : Jinx x Fem Reader, Isha x Fem Reader (platonic)

Summary : Jinx is not alone when you come home

You were walking through the streets of Zaun with your head down, a hood covering your hair, passing through the less frequented streets and making sure not to attract anyone's attention.

You held tightly to the bag you had brought, now filled to the brim; it was a bit heavy, but it was worth it.

You were coming back from Piltover, where a small festival was taking place, in the city and the opportunity was too good to miss.

Generally, you didn't go to Piltover often, but today you had a very specific reason: to find a gift for your girlfriend, Jinx.

With Jinx's face plastered on every wall in Zaun and Piltover, you had agreed that it was better for her to keep a low profile for a while.

Jinx didn't always stay in your hideout; she often wandered the streets of Zaun but she made sure not to be noticed.

Jinx hadn't been doing very well lately. Accidentally killing Silco had really affected her. She stayed in bed for a week without getting up. Every time you returned from a trip through the streets of Zaun, she would drag you to bed, lay her head on your chest, and stay there without moving for several hours, allowing you to run your fingers through her hair.

Sometimes her nightmares were so intense that her screams would wake you up. In those moments, you would take her in your arms and spend long minutes comforting her, and often she would end up falling asleep in your arms.

That's why you had taken advantage of this day to give her a gift: in your bag was an adorable all-white cat plushie, and you had immediately known that Jinx would love it.

She was surely going to cover it with all sorts of colors, and you didn't mind at all; you loved seeing her have fun drawing on everything and anything. It always made her happy, and seeing her like that made you happy too.

You descended the hidden staircase that led to your hideout, hearing Jinx long before you saw her.

-What am I going to do now? It's not like I could chase you away, you'd just end up alone. Who would take care of you ?

You thought she was still talking to her voices. It happened to her often lately, surely because of Silco's premature death. But the more you heard her, the more it seemed like she was talking to a real person.

You placed your bag at your feet and removed your sweatshirt, freeing your braid from the hood, and let the air refresh you before joining Jinx.

-Jinx, who are you talking to ?

She turned around abruptly and had a slight embarrassed look upon seeing you.

-Um. I need to tell you something.

Behind her, you saw a little girl timidly appear, who didn't seem older than 10 years old. She was brunette and wore a miner's helmet; her amber eyes never left you.

-Who is she ?

-Her name's Isha, she fell on me. Literally. I mean, I was walking down the street when she fell on me.

You looked at Isha more closely. She didn't seem mean or dangerous. Jinx didn't seem to be wary either, which meant there was nothing to fear.

Your voice softened.

-What is she doing here, did she follow you?

Jinx didn't let anyone else but you and Sevika come here; the only other person who could set foot here without being chased away by Jinx's gun was Silco, but now he would never come again.

-I brought her with me. I don't even know why. I couldn't leave her there all alone. I had to do something.

She really didn't seem to know why she had brought this little girl. But if Isha was alone, it surely meant her parents were dead, because in Zaun, no parent abandons their child.

That's when you understood. Just as Silco had done for her all those years ago, Jinx had now, in turn, saved an abandoned child deprived of her family.

Behind her, Isha continued to look at you shyly, her golden eyes seeming lost, shifting between you and Jinx without really knowing where to settle them.

You hadn't said anything, but Jinx knew you wouldn't chase this little girl away because you loved children and knew what it was like to be alone without parents.

You approached her and crouched down to her level. She backed away a bit when she saw you reach into your bag, but she calmed down when you offered her a candy with a smile.

-It looks like you've just found yourself a new home, sweetie.

Isha caught you by surprise when she threw herself into your arms, her head against your chest, and hugged you tightly. You smiled and stroked her hair.

Jinx looked at both of you, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile spread across her lips. She knew that everything would be better now.

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 30- It’s whatever ☕️

You were already there when you texted Xiao. You just needed extra time to mentally prepare yourself. Originally you had wanted to cut him off over text, but he didn’t deserve that. You knew it was wrong to do it over the phone.

You were sat on a bench scrolling through twitter. It was a chilly night and you should’ve brought a jacket. You felt anxiety coursing through your veins. With every passing minute your heart rate increased and you kept looking around anxiously for any sign of Xiao. You were so on edge and for what? You’re the one who called him out in the middle of the night out of the blue. He should be more nervous.

As you were scrolling through your phone, you heard footsteps approaching you. You didn’t want to look up, worried for who you were about to see. The footsteps stopped in front of you and you could only see a pair of converse in your peripheral vision. You looked up and met eye to eye with Xiao.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he sat down next to you.

You weren’t ok at all.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you want to meet up? You’re not breaking things off with me are you?” He was only half joking.

“About that,” You began. You needed to be stern about this and not beat around the bush, “You’re a really great guy and I’m sure you’ll find someone that’ll like you the way you want them to. However, that person isn’t me.”

Your voice got quieter after the last sentence. You were scared on how he was going to react. You’ve never done anything like this before and his intimidating aura didn’t make you feel any better.

He let out a small chuckle and looked away, “It’s Scaramouche isn’t it?”

Was it that obvious?

Your silence didn’t make it any better as you looked down to your hands. You didn’t know what to say. Only tension and awkwardness filled the air.

“Have you once considered how I felt?”

You looked up meeting his amber eyes. You raised an eyebrow.

“How do you think I felt every time you would talk about him? It felt like you never liked me.”

Are men always this idiotic?

It’s understandable that he feels rejected but you never told him you liked him back. You liked being his friend but he went too fast and didn’t ask you how you felt about anything.

Annoyed, you argued back with him, “You’re right, I never did. You can’t just guilt me into thinking that I never considered how you felt when you never thought about feelings. I never wanted to be more than friends with you. Yes I did find you attractive and there were times where I would flirt back, but that was it. I tried giving you a chance, I really did, but it was only after you tried convincing me to. It was never going to work out.”

He only stared back not saying a word. Probably speechless at your sudden outburst. You took this opportunity to chew him out even more, “You can’t force someone to like you if they’re infatuated with someone else. I’m sorry if you thought differently but I only wanted to be friends. You’re a fun person to talk to but nothing more.”

This time, he was the one who looked down at his hands. There was a moment of silence as he tried for find the best words to say. You felt bad for being so blunt, you did have a way with being brutally honest when you needed to.

Xiao finally spoke up, still looking down, “If that’s how you feel then so be it.” He sighed before continuing, “What’s so good about Scara anyways?”

“His impurities. The weak part of him, the goodness in him which is still a mess, but little by little, he changes, and I don’t want to miss out on those changes. I don’t get what makes him the good guy but I do know I don’t want him to disappear from my life.”

When did you turn so sappy?

“I expected it everyday since we decided to take things slow so I was nervous everyday that you were going to leave. It stings but I feel a bit relieved I don’t have to feel that way anymore.” Xiao admitted.

You’re started to feel bad for him. Did he like you that much or was he that desperate for a relationship? Either way you knew you weren’t the right person for him.

The only thing you could say was, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have pressured you into anything. It was my fault that things turned out this way.”

You gave Xiao a small smile, apologized again, and quickly hugged him goodbye. You didn’t want to say anything else, afraid it was going to cause a more intense riff between you guys.

Were you satisfied with how things ended? No, not really. However, do you have any regrets? Absolutely not.

You knew you were going to have to see him at award shows and pretend you two didn’t just have a falling out. It made you sad that you lost a good friend. Maybe one day you guys could reconcile.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: End of act 3!! Literally 10 more chapters till ttme finishes 😨😨 Hopefully act 4 will make up for all the pain and suffering you guys endured while reading this 🥰 I would also like to apologize to team xiao. Anyways!! Chapter 32 will have major scarayn so be prepared 😜

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr @jiminscarmex @sp1ng @bananasquash @aceakariii @thegalaxyisunfolding @ariilies @hisfuture @automaticpatroltragedy @sartrst @cheriswag @kokomiskiss @albedomestic-airline @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @wvvyq @amurotoorudesu

[nothing0fnothing]

A lot of people don't understand that likeability is a massive decider in how we acsess the world, and how that disproportionately affects survivors of childhood abuse.

If we're likeable we get perks. We might get upgraded on our flight. We could get a little freebie here and there. Humans are social creatures. People like us, and in turn want to do nice things in hopes we will like them back. That's super cool. Win for humanity. Nice people deserve nice things. Everyone deserves a free latte or a slightly nicer hotel room as a treat.

But we don't just deal with this kind of social exchange for flights and lattes. Buying a car is a social interaction. Job interviews are social interactions. Doctors appointments are social interactions. Stop and searches or traffic stops are social interactions. If you're likeable, you will probably get a car for a fair price or a job you're qualified for. You will find it easier to get your doctor to listen to you or you might be able to charm your way out of a ticket. If you're not likeable, those things become harder for you.

So.. what? Karma. Good vibes. What goes around comes around. Be nice to people and they'll be nice to you, duh.

But likeability has very little to do with being nice. For most people, being likeable isn't in their control. If you're ugly or fat, if you're not white, if you're lower class, if you're disabled or neurodivergent, suddenly whether you're liked or not has very little to do with how you treat other people, it's about how they perceive you. It's painful when you just want people to like you, it's dangerous when you need them to.

This is why abusers attack their victims likeability.

Gaslighting. Smear campaigning. Public shaming. Isolating the victim till all their friends and family wonder why she suddenly thinks she's too good for them. It all puts a victim in a place where they fear they won't be believed not because they're not credible, but because they're no longer likeable. They're both social currencies, but when you need help and support, likeability always spends better.

Remember Depp v Heard? What was all that revenge porn and outright lying all about? It was about making Amber Heard; the young and beautiful, self educated multilingual, long time human rights champion and loving mother, unlikeable. It was all utter bullshit, but it worked. People were making memes out of her rape testimony. They swarmed her with hate outside the courthouse. They followed her home and posted feces through her letter box. His attorney joked publicly about all the ways she intentionally triggered Amber's PTSD moments before she was to face the world in the most public domestic abuse trial in history, and the public laughed with her. Depp, with the help of his high profile colleagues and incredibly expensive spin doc- I mean lawyers, made Amber unlikeable, and when people decided she was unlikeable they decided she must also be uncredible.

Abusive parents also have the power to make their victims unlikeable. They do this by consistently traumatising them into socially disparaged behaviour, while projecting to the world a picture of the perfect family dealing with a "problem child".

We have a picture in our heads of battered children as withdrawn, quiet little angels, sadly suffering in silence just waiting for someone to notice the pain in their eyes and save them. In real life, this is rarely the case. Most children who have experienced early life abuse are reactive and disruptive. They are defensive and quick to anger. They are loud or sarcastic and they don't respect authority. In short, they are mirrors of the environment that they deal with at home. Due to this, behavioural interventions outside of the home does very little to help, the root of the issue isn't being fixed. So they get reputations as difficult little shits.

These kids go out and interact with the world like the hurt and traumatised people that they are, and the people that are supposed to be their safety net by reporting any suspicions of abuse to CPS, simply don't. Why? Because we find the child less likable than their parents. So when the child says "help me, my home life is horrible", we compare our impression of them to our impression of their parents, and usually without even realising why, we don't take them seriously.

Paris Hilton is an adult survivor of childhood abuse and torture at the troubled teen wilderness programme. Now an adult she uses her platform to speak up, but on that platform she's also told some harrowing stories of how her reputation as a vapid, self serving mean girl/wild child once kept her silent. She wouldn't be believed and her pain would only be mocked or shamed if she spoke out sooner. It's only after years of rebuilding that reputation into one that better reflects who she is as an adult, people are ready to believe her now. Why? Because she wasn't likable then, but she is now.

The thing is, most of us don't grow up into beautiful, wealthy superstars who age like fine wine and are universally loved by every sane person on the planet. Some of us are traumatised as children, who grow into traumatised teens who grow into traumatised adults. Being a traumatised adult is better than being a traumatised teen in a lot of ways. Having the power to simply not speak to the people who abused us for all our formative years is a big one. Not needing the signature of those abusers to acsess things like shelter, sustenance, support and medical care is another. It's not all bad being an adult survivor. It's not easy either though.

Like, I'm only half joking when I say having a stable family you can rely on into your adulthood is a privilege. Most of us don't have that because the smear campaigns didn't just Thanos snap out of existence the moment we turned 18. Out extended families often still see us as the bratty, entitled, violent little shits our abusive parents have been telling them we are since we were walking. On top of that all those authority issues and behavioural issues and PTSD symptoms we had as kids are still there, because nobody believed us when we asked for help so we just never got it.

It has nothing to do with who we are as people, but we just give off "bad vibes." It makes us susceptible to revictimisation and it means when people see the resting bitch face or the anxious fidgeting or the deadpan tone of speaking, their natural human judgement meter decides they don't like us. So we don't get upgraded on the plane and we don't get free lattes and yeah we pay more for things like cars and services because the natural drive people have to give each other favors doesn't really work for us. So some of us don't get perks but that's okay, they're perks because not everyone gets them. It's not a big deal.

Accessing the world shouldn't be a perk of being untraumatised. But when we lose out on job opportunities because our interviewer finds a non traumatised person more likeable than us, it feels like it is. When we don't have a saftey net of familial support so it takes us longer to recover when we're down on our luck or just down in the dumps, it feels like it is. And when we are less likely to be believed when we are reporting either current or historic abuse, it feels like it is. And when we struggle to acsess medical care because our doctors associate typical behaviour of traumatised people with attention or drug seeking, it feels like it is.

[tentacle-therapissed]

Real talk, I hope those of you who switched up on Amber Heard the moment Depp’s PR team stopped poisoning your brains with disrespectful slander against her feel genuinely ashamed for your utter lack of sympathy and complete unwillingness to listen to the people who TRIED to tell you what was really going on. The same people who argued with me that they ‘watched the entire trial’ when it was airing are now going ‘wait a minute, I thought I watched the whole trial but I don’t remember seeing any of this footage 🥺’ that’s because you never did, you watched the tiktok smear campaign version of events and thought you were better than everyone else for it. You claimed to be more informed than those of us defending Heard without ever actually bothering to get informed. I’m obviously not so spiteful as to shun people who now want to support Amber, because she deserves all of the support she can get, but you all seriously need to have more shame and humility for your past behavior simply because otherwise you WILL be tricked into falling for another hate campaign like this in the future. I’ve already seen it happen with Blake Lively— anyone with a brain could have predicted that Justin Baldoni was bad news even before the lawsuit against him dropped, but no one actually bothers to look into these things themselves anymore because it’s easier to just parrot whatever social media platforms are telling you, which are often carefully cultivated to make you form specific opinions because the people behind it all KNOW that you’re gullible enough to believe them. It’s hard for us as humans to admit when we’ve made mistakes but I’m just sick and tired of people saying shit like ‘we were ALL fooled by Johnny Depp’ or ‘we might’ve been too harsh on Amber’ or ‘now there’s been new information about the trial’ like no tf we were not all fooled, we were not all mocking a rape victim, the information coming out is not new, you need to accept that you’re simply late to the party and re-examine the bandwagon mentality that leads you to just match your opinion with whatever’s the trendy thing to believe at the time.

[uhhlifeig]

The Dorm Room - Nov. 23 - word count: 666 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius Black sat on the edge of his bed, gripping the frame so hard his knuckles ached. 

Across the room, Remus stood by the window, stiff and unmoving, his back turned. James paced furiously, his footsteps heavy, while Peter hovered uncertainly, wringing his hands.

The oldest boy felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Do you even understand what you’ve done?” The werewolf’s voice was low, sharp, and sudden- worse than if he’d screamed. 

“I- I wasn’t thinking,” he managed, voice cracking.

“No,” Remus snapped, spinning around to face him. His amber eyes burned with anger. “You weren’t. Because you never think, Sirius. You just act, and everyone else has to deal with the fallout.”

Sirius opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He tried again, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for it to-”

“To what?” The dirty blonde cut him off, taking a step closer. “To almost get Snape killed? To put me at risk? What exactly didn’t you mean, Sirius?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the room.

James stopped pacing, turning to glare at him. “Hurt him? You didn’t just hurt him, you betrayed him!”

“I know, I know,” Sirius said, his words tumbling out too fast. “I wasn’t thinking- I was just so angry at Snape, and-”

“Don’t,” Remus interrupted, his voice icy. “Don’t you dare try to justify this.”

“I’m not! I’m not trying to justify it, I just- I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking, and I-” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “I’m sorry.”

The other boy’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Sorry? Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry doesn’t erase what you did.”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll make it right. Just tell me what to do, Moony. Please.”

“What to do?” Remus repeated, his voice rising. “First, don’t call me that. You don’t deserve to. Second, how about you stop acting like this isn’t who you are?”

Sirius froze, his heart plummeting. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re no different from your family,” The werewolf spat, his voice filled with venom.

The words hit Sirius like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs. “I’m not like them.” 

He was trying to convince himself. How pathetic was that?

“Aren’t you? Lashing out, hurting people, thinking the rules don’t apply to you. That’s exactly what they do, isn’t it?”

“I’m not like them,” the noiret repeated, voice wavering.

“Stop saying that,” Remus snapped. “You don’t get to act like you’re better than them when you pull something like this. You don’t get to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending!” Sirius shouted, his voice cracking. “I’m not like them. I’m not.” He whispered the second part to himself, wrapping his arms around his torso.

Remus shook his head, turning away. “You are. They would be proud of you, Heir Black. We're over.”

Sirius staggered back, his legs hitting the bed. He sat down heavily, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

“You don’t get to play the victim here,” James said out of nowhere, his voice sharp.

“I’m not.” the dog animagus said. He looked at Peter, who avoided his gaze, and then back at his ex-lover. “I just- I messed up, okay? I know I messed up, but I’m not like them.”

“You are,” Remus said again, without turning around.

Sirius felt his chest tighten, mind spiraling. 

He hated himself. Of course he did.

He hated the way he always ruined things, the way his anger always got the better of him. Hated the way his ex-boyfriend looked at him now, like he was nothing to him.

“I’ll go,” the oldest boy said suddenly, voice hollow.

Remus didn’t respond.

The silence stretched on, suffocating, until Sirius finally stood and stumbled toward the door. He didn’t know where he was going- he just knew he couldn’t stay there any longer.

“Good riddance,” he heard from his ex-best-friend as the door closed. “I hope he suffers.”

pt. 2, pt. 3

@estellethewriter sorry i havent fed you in a while but you can have a Prank fic as payment!

[purpleammonitestasis]

"Keep Dancing With Me"

• Pre War Cooper Howard x Reader! Fluff!

(Cooper and you dance together 🥺)

“C’mon Coop! Please just teach me even a little step, pleeeeease”

You and Cooper Howard have been together for a while now, since after he and Barb got divorced, and you had been begging Cooper to teach you the Western line dancing he claims to know.

“No- c’mon- its embarrassin’ please-” He refused you every time saying he was embarrassed, he was “too busy” or he “wasn't in the mood”, but he wouldn't get away with it this time, you wouldn't have it.

You left the couch with a Hm, and disappeared into the bedroom, this was automatically suspicious for Cooper as you’d always persist and plead, and then he heard it… Johnny Cash. He got up from the couch, put his paper down and started for the bedroom, but not before you appeared in the doorway, you gestured for him to come closer with your finger, and when he moved forward you did too, until you both met halfway.

“Cooper Howard, you are going to teach me a dance, or I'll make you” Your voice got low and serious as you looked into his eyes.

He let out a sigh, defeated, “Fine, gimme your hand, put the other on my shoulder” he took your hand with his and guided his other hand down to your waist and gripped it firmly.

You always loved his hands, they were strong and big, and you almost fit into them completely, your hand disappeared into his, like his hands were made for you, and he loved that too.

He showed you the footwork to one he called “Lori's Cha-Cha”, and the beginning was easy, however, you kind of bombed out anything after that, so you two just stuck to the beginning part. It was nice, energetic and intimate at the same time, you were both laughing for the first time in a long time. Johnny Cash was definitely the best pick for this dancing.

“Havin’ fun?” He teased with a smirk, flashing his teeth.

“Yes, I can definitely see you are, you've loosened up, your shoulders aren't as tense” You noted, sending a cheeky smile to him.

“Yeah yeah, whatever” Cooper rolled his eyes.

“Why didn't you ever want to show me before?”

“I don't know, I never thought you'd be so interested in it, I always thought it was a cheesy thing we always had ta learn in school” he spun you around gently and his hand left your waist for a split second before you came back around.

“Aw Coop, you don't have to be embarrassed about it, I love it, I'm always interested in you..I find it really charming, and what better way to woo someone than with your line dancing?” you teased the last part and he scoffed but he knows you meant the beginning.

“I’m sorry for always shovin’ you off before, I also thought you were kinda just teasin’ me ‘bout it” he said that and stopped for a moment, “Actually I'm sorry for not really payin’ attention to you much at all lately, things have been…stressful, and painful, but you didn't deserve the distance, I'm sorry” he looked down and the dancing slowed.

You watched and listened to this, it made your heart ache thinking of everything that's happened to him. You loved him more than anything, more than life itself, but most people took him for granted, and that hurt.

“Coop, look at me” you took your hands and held the sides of his face to make him look down at you again, “It’s okay, I know what you've been through, I know it's been so stressful and you've been hurting, but I'll always be here for you, I love you so much, more than words, and I'll stand by you for the rest of our life together, I love you”

You pulled him down and his lips met yours, he melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around your whole body, keeping your warmth against him. Letting out an exasperated breath, he relaxed and leant into you and your arms linked around his neck to further deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you two just looked into each other's eyes. His amber eyes radiated with the orange sky setting through the window, the green hints flickered like filtered leaves.

“You're beautiful you know that Y/N…” he said dreamily after a while of him studying your face too, “How did I ever deserve you?”

You smiled at his sweet words and gave him another kiss.

“I love you so so much Coop, now please keep dancing with me…”

A/N: Thank you for reading! It's been a while, but I absolutely love Cooper Howard/The Ghoul and the Fallout series, so here I am 😍

Do not borrow/translate/steal

[traumatizedjaguar]

abusers are mad bc they helped smear campaign an innocent fucking woman and now they're grasping at straws to try to justify their actions and further bully her.

[precisionbattlesystem]

The Witch hated dolls.

They were abhorrent, wretched, imperfected pieces of flesh made to be perfect porcealin puppets.

The thought of owning one disgusted the Witch, Amber. The ichor of a Witch only deserved to be loved by the ichor of another equal.

So when her Coven bestowed a doll that lost its Witch in a conflict with the local militia and Hunters, Amber was moritified.

What mortified Amber even more was that Amber loved it.

The doll would crack the worst of puns and jokes, as if that was its purpose alone.

The doll always had a goofy smile permanently painted across its lips, as if it was a doll of a different nature.

The doll was also beautiful. Long brown hair that draped over the doll’s chest, as if a curtain that hid the indecent bits of the dolls chest. Cool and soothing hazel eyes that were understanding and calculating.

But the worst part of all?

The doll was capable. They were a combat doll, trained in the way of the sword. That was their true purpose. And it showed.

Amber hated her doll. How the doll was now her better half. Resentment drove her to making the dolls life worse. Baking cookies with salt instead of sugar for the doll. Dulling the doll’s blades. And silence after the doll would always say, every night, “This one loves you!” Each with a growing desperation that yearned for a response that didn’t come.

The doll’s heart broke and it expressed its discontent for the first time, which both surprised the Witch and brought her relief. Amber deserved such hatred from her doll. Amber couldn’t argue otherwise.

They kept up the appearance of doll and witch for a decade longer. The doll performed and behaved for their witch in public, but behind closed doors, they stayed as far as they could from one another, sometimes even cursing each other out before both turned in for the night, crying themselves to sleep.

The King’s spies eventually found the Witch while the doll was out, doing a grocery run, getting the Witch’s most hated flavor of tea.

The doll pushed its way through the crowd and saw an executioner hold an axe in his hand, leveled with its witch’s head. The Witch cried out before the climax of the moment, “Wait! Can I have one final request?”

The King gave a solemn nod, a bit hesitant.

The Witch cleared her throat, “Please tell my Doll, I am sorry. I always loved her dearly, but I never could bring myself to say it. I was jealous of her, and her perfection. I wish… things could have turned out differently,”

The King laughed, which the crowd laughed along boisteriously, save for one. “A Witch with regret? Maybe that’s why you deserve to die! I will not do such a thing! Dolls deserve to be used and thrown away! Executioner! Kill her!”

The Executioner rolled his shoulders back, the Witch could hear an audible pop from the Executioner’s shoulders. They raised the axe above the Witch’s head and swung downwards.

The Witch closed her eyes waiting for the end when she heard the King exclaim.

“Stop her!”

A clash of metal echoed throughout the execution square, the doll took care of its weapon. The executioner did not.

The sword caught a nick in the axe and cleaved cleanly through the dull blade, the axe head soaring away from the platform, possibly into the head of an unsuspecting spectator.

“It awaits your orders, my witch,” The doll kneeled before its Witch, the executioner stumbling back, dumbfounded.

The crowd began to erupt in boos and jeers. Soldiers left the King’s side to stop this jailbreak attempt happening in front of their very eyes. The doll observed all of this nervously, “Miss Amber? Anytime now,” The doll whispered hurriedly.

The Witch looked up at her doll, still shocked that her doll came to her rescue.

Soldiers were approaching the platform now, swords drawn as the king ordered them to kill the Witch and destroy her doll. “Amber! GET YOUR HEAD OUTTA YOUR ASS AND-“

“Insolent Doll! Free me!”

The doll slashed at the Witch’s leather restraints, the whistle of steel through the air as the leather snapped at the release of tension.

“Fine! Anything else!?” The doll gestured to the soldiers that were now climbing the stairs, only a few steps aways from them.

“Do I have to do everything you stupid doll??? Kill them! And the king too!”

“Fuck. You.” The doll whispered through gritted teeth and looked back at its Witch.

The doll and the Witch exchanged a glance. One of understanding. Trust. Love.

And appreciation.

The doll thought it saw the Witch whisper ‘Thank you,’ but it probably imagined it.

Its Witch hated dolls afterall.