#but its genuinely better especially now that i understand things

[directdogman]

Dialtown is the most USA-core game I've ever played. It's so fucking American that it's scary, and I've lived there my entire life! Like, this feels fundamentally tied with the game's themes and narrative, that's how extreme it is. And it's not even alienating OR nationalist?? It makes such genuine commentary? And then there's so much other shit to think about too; Dialtown has a very real identity outside this that anyone could love?

One: I am VERY impressed that you have done the USA and its people this well. I am actually astounded, bewildered, and chuffed. I've never felt so seen by a video game, culturally-speaking. I didn't even know there was a culture to see.

Two: WHY did you do that. Dialtown is like USA Culture Absurdified: The Visual Novel. What drove you to make a game this rich with American culture and ideas???

Hello!

It would've been odd for an outsider (non American) who enjoys reading up on history to make my setting nationalist or alienating. America is a country with a lot of serious issues. You can't really study how America is (and has been) internally run without facing glaring and obvious systematic issues. DT's setting is one of scarcity and most of the main characters you follow in DT are kinda just scraping by without much hope for true mobility/advancement. A lot of Americans (especially younger generations) would agree this sorta encapsulates the national mood of the country right now.

Of course, the systems that run a country don't define its citizens - many of the finest people I've ever known are American and are victims of the whims of those with power, not willing participants in this system. I could be wrong, but that's why I think the setting connected with a lot of people. We all know Randys, Olivers + Karens, people who've fallen through the cracks in some way. To them, America's spirit of self-determination isn't about individual identity - it's more "you're on your own."

Why I chose to set DT in America would be a novel length answer in of itself, but it mainly came down to history + narrative opportunity. I wanted to set the game in the epicenter of where the phone-revolution came from and Crown likely couldn't have pulled his plan off anywhere else and probably not during any other time. It had to be 1960's America.

Of course, some parts of DT are sorta universal and were inspired by the the Great Recession and what followed. I remember there was an area not that far from my house that was full of green fields when I was born and when I was a kid (and when real estate boomed), stuff started being built there. Parts of it looked really nice, not quite like anything nearby. Like the future was coming. Then the economy crashed and stuff was left sitting there, half-built for like a decade. Skeletal, unfinished buildings. DT is much the same.

There's a feeling that the city could've been something better and while things could be more equal, it does feel like there are no easy solutions to fix everything - unless someone very smart and determined somehow bypassed every safeguard that was set up to halt radical change and enacted a genius plan to somehow eliminate scarcity. It happened once and might never again.

I don't think most people understand the intricacies of stuff like global commerce all that well (myself included), but when you're sitting looking at a half built neighbourhood mere hours after speaking to a friend who just kicked out of rented accommodation and doesn't have a stable family unit to fall back on, you'd have to be a real dolt not to understand that things aren't great right now. Most people are scraping by and feel if they could just get affordable housing locked down, if they had maybe one good opportunity - maybe there's hope that things could change for the better.

The end of DT isn't really utopian, things don't massively change for the better and indeed, the town has a lot of rebuilding to do. But, a collection of lonely people are now looking out for each other and through the relationships they have, now feel like they have a place in this world. That no matter how bad things really get - they aren't truly by themselves anymore. Most individuals don't have the means to significantly advance change on their own - but you can live your life, love those around you and support others and plan for when the opportunity to affect change comes about.

I guess that's what life is, in America or anywhere else. Sorry I rambled for so long. Hope this answered the question!

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Imperfectly Yours

Ace x reader (she/her)

MODERN AU. Christmas movie rom-com vibe. Reader is the daughter of Whitebeard and is shorter than Ace.

This is how I imagine the cover to look like, if anyone's curious

Honestly, I feel like it could use some more work, but I really wanted to put it out here during the Christmas season. I doubt I’ll have more time to work on it soon, so here it is. Happy holidays to those who celebrate! ❤️🎄

English is not my first language

🫶 @captainportgasdace 🫶

Ficmas masterlist

Main masterlist

You stepped out of your car and looked around. While you had grown up in this small town, you hadn't been back for quite some time. The air felt crisp against your face, and it felt almost unreal being back. You took a deep breath in and looked towards the bar across the street. It was a familiar place to you, your dad's pub being as dear to you as your own home.

Without any more hesitation, you began walking across the street towards it, passing by the small shops on the sidewalk. Each one was decorated to match the Christmas season, with colorful lights being strung outside and in the windows. The sight brought a small smile to your face.

Opening the front door, you walked in, the warm air and smell of alcohol and food almost enveloping you entirely. The place was lively with the music and the sounds of multiple people chatting. You even recognized some of them as regulars.

You could faintly hear your dad talking to one customer before he finally looked up and saw you. His face immediately lit up into a big smile.

Your father, Edward Newgate—better known as Whitebeard—was a renowned figure in your small town. His bar, the Moby Dick, was nothing short of legendary, a place where he commanded respect effortlessly while making everyone who walked through its doors feel genuinely welcome.

“Long time no see,” he said, putting down a glass he was wiping on the bar and leaning on it with both hands. 

“Heya, Dad,” you said with a small chuckle. "Sorry, I haven't been back in a while. Things got hectic in the city.”

“You've got your own life going on; can't always be home. Now, give your old man a hug,” he said, stepping out from behind the bar, arms wide open to embrace you.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You’re not that old yet, Dad,” you said with a grin, wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug. He hugged you back tightly.

When you pulled away, your dad patted your shoulder. “Still got plenty of life left in me,” he said with a hearty laugh. Then, turning to the room, he raised his voice joyfully. “My daughter’s home! Let’s celebrate! The next round is on me!”

A loud cheer erupted from the crowd, filling the bar with energy.

“Dad!” you scolded, laughing. “That’s not how you’re supposed to run a business!”

He only laughed harder. “Oh, don’t worry! I can afford to treat them every now and then—especially for an occasion as amazing as this!” Then, turning back to you, he gently guided you toward the bar, pulling out a stool for you before sitting down beside you.  “And how is the city life treating you, sweetie?”

 "It's alright," you said with a small smile. "I'm still working at that company, but things have been a bit hectic there lately. Kind of burned out on the whole thing."

Your dad nodded in understanding and gave you a sympathetic smile. "I hear ya," he said, patting your shoulder. "Work stress can get to everyone. You take some time off for yourself?"

You sighed, resting your cheek on your hand. “That’s the problem, Dad,” you said with a slight pout. “Every time I try to take a break, some new problem pops up, and I get dragged right back in.”

"Sounds stressful," he said. "Sounds like you could really use a break from all that, huh?"

You laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, that’s part of why I decided to come back here,” you admitted with a sheepish grin. "Thought I could take a break from the city and come help you out a bit here."

Your dad’s face lit up with a wide smile. "Well, I'm glad to have the help, honey," he said with a chuckle. "I can never turn away help from my lovely daughter, of course."

Just then, something caught your dad’s attention. He looked past you with a wave. “And don’t worry, you don’t need to worry about me,” he said, with a reassuring smile. “I’ve got some help. Like this young man here.”

He pointed behind you, and you turned around to look. You instantly recognized the man walking into the bar, carrying a couple of boxes in his arms.

Ace.

He had definitely changed since you last saw him. He seemed more mature, his muscles more defined, and he looked even more handsome than before.

Your eyes stayed glued on Ace as he walked over to the bar, set down the boxes with a thud, and looked up to see you and Whitebeard watching him. He looked between the two of you, and a familiar big grin appeared on his face.

“Oh man, you’re back in town!” 

“Ace, hey,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. “Yeah, I’m back for the holidays.”

“Well, damn, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he said, glancing you up and down.

 “Yeah, it has,” you said, trying to ignore just how attractive he looked now. Not that he wasn't good-looking before. “Looks like you got a lot bigger since the last time I was here.”

He chuckled and flexed his arms.  “A lot of lifting and stuff like that—made me bulk up a good amount.”

 “Yeah, I see that,” you said, trying not to stare too much at his toned arms.

“It’s kinda my best feature now,” he joked.

You almost protested his words but stopped yourself. While his muscles and body were obviously impressive, you had always liked his face more than anything. That cocky grin that always got to you, and those freckles…

His freckles used to make him look cute when you were kids, but now they only added to how unfairly handsome he had become. Damn him for growing up so well.

You tried to brush the thoughts away and crossed your arms. “Well, I see you've gotten even more arrogant and smug than before, somehow.”

He let out a barking laugh at your words, that same cocky smirk still on his face. “And you still have those snarky remarks.”

You rolled your eyes as he laughed at your quip but couldn’t help a smile of your own. “Well, you're still easy to taunt.”

Before Ace could come back with a retort, Whitebeard cut both of you off. “You two can flirt later,” he said, a slight smirk playing on his face.

Both you and Ace immediately became flustered and stumbling over denials.

“W-we weren’t—!” Ace protested, glaring at Whitebeard, though the intensity was lost behind his flushed cheeks.

“Sure you weren't,” Whitebeard chuckled, still watching your faces burn. “While you've been busy making a name for yourself in the city,” he said, “Ace here has been a big help around the bar while you were gone.”

Your face was still flushed, but you glanced at Ace at your dad's words, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “You’ve been helping out here?” you asked.

Ace smiled sheepishly, hands shoved into his pockets. “Yeah, after I got back from my travels, and with Sabo and Luffy moving away, I needed something to keep me busy,” he said with a small chuckle. “And Pops was nice enough to let me work here and help him out.”

Whitebeard chuckled and reached over to ruffle Ace's hair, like he was still a kid. “He's definitely a loudmouth, and can be a pain in my ass when he's bored,” he said, and Ace protested, but Whitebeard waved him off. “But he's a good worker and has been a huge help around here.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched the two of them, clearly entertained by Ace’s protests. “I bet he keeps things interesting around here,” you teased, smirking at him, and he stuck his tongue out in response.

Whitebeard chuckled again, letting go of Ace's hair. “He certainly keeps things from getting dull,” he said with a warm smile. “And he gets along with the regulars just fine, which is a plus. and the girls are always all over him,” Whitebeard joked, and Ace’s face turned red at the comment. You laughed, watching his tomato-red face, finding it amusing how easily flustered he was.

“They are not!” Ace argued, looking between the two of you, but the blush on his face made it clear he was lying. 

“Yeah, I bet you're a hit with all the customers,” you remarked, leaning back against the bar with a smirk. “Girls must be swooning all over you every day.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “It's not that bad…”

 “Damn, I hope my presence here doesn’t scare your fan girls away.”

“Fan girls… they are not fan girls! It's not that many!” Ace protested again, trying to cover his embarrassment with annoyance, but the blush on his face betrayed him, making him look like a pouting child. It was kind of adorable.

 “Sure, sure,” you smirked at him. 

“Hey, a customer is a customer,” your dad finally chimed in with a grin. “I’m not about to complain about some extra business—even if it’s just for the chance to ogle him.”

"Pops!" Ace protested again, looking betrayed, while you continued chuckling, enjoying his reaction.

Whitebeard continued to make fun of Ace's protest, clearly reveling in his reaction. Slowly he stood up, his towering figure casting a shadow over the bar. “Since you'll be in town for a while, and you'll be helping out here too, I have a few things for you to keep in mind,” he said as he fixed you with a knowing smile. You rose to your feet as well, nodding toward Ace with a playful smirk.

“Catch you later,” you spoke before following your dad toward the back of the bar.

Whitebeard and you stepped away from the lively clamor of the bar, moving deeper into the quieter, more secluded space. You paid close attention to what your dad had to say, listening as he went over the recent changes and new things that you needed to know for your time here.

You took in all the information given to you, making mental notes of the changes and additions to the bar's operations. You nodded along to his words and asked a few questions to clarify some points, making sure you had everything straight in your head.

While going over the new things in his bar, your dad also took the time to talk about Ace and how much he had helped since he started working here. He spoke highly of Ace's dedication, work ethic, and reliability. He even laughed a little, shaking his head fondly. He clearly liked that boy.  

“And he might even make a good son-in-law one day,” he added, his tone suddenly teasing, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.

“D-dad, that's-!” you stammered, the warmth creeping up your neck. Embarrassment washed over you in waves at your dad's cheeky suggestion.

Whitebeard, always one to enjoy your reactions, couldn't help but laugh at your state. He smirked, glancing between you and Ace, who was hard at work behind the bar. “I’m just saying,” he continued, his grin widening, “you two would be a good match.”

“Dad, that's—I mean… no, I—” The flustered stammer was all you could manage as you tried to find some coherent response to his teasing.

Whitebeard let out another rich laugh at your discomfort, thoroughly enjoying every moment of it. With a sly grin, he gave you a gentle pat on the back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just something to think about,” he said with a wink, clearly relishing your embarrassment as he turned to walk back toward the bar, leaving you baffled. 

Deep down, you couldn’t deny that the idea of being with Ace wasn’t entirely unappealing, even if it felt a little embarrassing to admit. Still, you reminded yourself of the reality. You were leaving for the city soon, while Ace would stay here. Thinking about something that couldn’t happen felt pointless, so you convinced yourself he didn’t feel the same way and decided not to dwell on that anymore.

When the bar finally closed for the night and the customers had left, a few workers and some friends stayed behind, socializing and enjoying themselves a bit more. You lingered as well, chatting and catching up with some of the bar's staff. As you looked around, you spotted Ace in a corner, talking to a few of the other workers.

For a moment, you simply watched him. His laughter rang out warmly, his easygoing charisma drawing the group closer. You admired the way he carried himself, effortlessly connecting with those around him. Finally, gathering your thoughts, you stepped closer and called out to him.

“Hey, Ace,” you said.

Excusing himself from the group, he turned his full attention to you and approached, leaning casually against the wall beside you.

“Hey,” he greeted, his smile growing as he met your gaze. “What's up? Need something?”

You smiled back warmly. “My dad told me how much you've helped out here,” you replied, your voice filled with gratitude. “I just wanted to thank you for everything. I really appreciate it.”

Ace shrugged, brushing off your thanks. “It's no big deal,” he responded. “I was just lending a hand. Besides, it’s nice to keep busy.”

You exhaled softly, your expression tinged with worry. “Honestly, I was a little concerned about how things would go here while I was in the city,” you admitted, guilt creeping into your voice. “I felt bad leaving for so long.”

“Hey, don't worry about it,” he comforted you. “We managed just fine while you were gone. And besides, it’s not like you were slacking off or something. You were working hard and doing your thing.”

You couldn’t help but beam at his reassurance, a small weight lifting off your shoulders. “Yeah, I know. But still… I couldn’t stop myself from worrying about this place and everyone here.”

“You worry too much,” he said, his fond smile making it hard not to feel at ease. “This place is in good hands. We're all doing fine—you don’t need to stress yourself out so much.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admitted, exhaling as some tension left your body.

Ace leaned casually against the wall beside you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with curiosity. “So, how’s city life treating you?”

You chuckled softly, rolling your eyes at his teasing. “Oh, you know, it’s the city,” you replied with an exaggerated shrug. “Hectic, busy, chaotic—exactly what you’d imagine.”

Ace grinned, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his face as he tilted his head slightly. “You always used to complain about how overwhelming the city was when we were younger,” he said, his voice warm and thoughtful. “So, what is it now? Have you grown to like it, or do you still prefer the quiet life?”

His words surprised you, and for a moment, you just stared at him. The fact that he remembered such a small detail about you from years ago struck a chord. “I’m impressed you remembered that,” you answered. “I didn’t think you paid much attention to me back then.”

Ace shrugged, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “Of course I did. I might’ve been a bit of a handful, sure, but I wasn’t blind to everything around me.”

His words left you smiling, warmth blooming in your chest. It was such a simple thing, but the thought that he’d noticed and remembered something about you felt deeply touching.

You decided to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “I wouldn’t say I love the chaos,” you admitted, shaking your head slightly. “But I’ve gotten used to it, I guess. I can handle the hustle and bustle a bit better now...”

“So, you've learned to adapt to the city life, huh? I must say, I'm a little disappointed. You always seemed like more of a small-town type of girl.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or insult?”

“Take it however you like,” he said with a carefree shrug. “I’m just surprised the city hasn’t driven you completely crazy yet.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering whether you should reveal how difficult the city life had been for you. The urge to tell him the truth was there, but a part of you was reluctant, unsure if you wanted to open up about the struggles you’d been facing. You glanced at him, uncertain if you should share your truth.

After a few moments of internal debate, you decided to take the leap. “Actually,” you began, your voice quieter than usual. “If I’m being totally honest, it kind of has driven me crazy. Living there by myself has been… harder than I thought.”

Ace’s expression softened when he heard the vulnerability in your voice. There was surprise in his eyes, but also understanding. He tilted his head slightly, listening more intently now.

“It’s just…” you continued, your voice faltering a little as you spoke. “Living alone, everything feels so chaotic, so overwhelming. I’ve been struggling to adapt, to keep it together on my own. Maybe I’m not cut out for this kind of life.”

You let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking your head at yourself. “It’s ironic,” you said, your words carrying a sense of regret. “I used to dream of escaping this small town, to see something more, to do something different. But now that I’m living in the city, I find myself missing the simplicity and comfort of this place more than ever.”

Ace opened his mouth to respond but paused when you glanced at him, waiting. He thought for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair, his eyes thoughtful. “I get that,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I’ve felt that way a lot during my travels.”

“I missed the familiarity,” he continued, his voice softening. “The comfort of being somewhere you know, with people you care about. That’s partly why I came back.”

You looked at him, your eyes slightly widened. Hearing that he could relate to your struggle made you feel a little less isolated. “Really?” you asked, not even hiding surprise in your tone.  “You actually missed this place, even while you were out there seeing all sorts of different places?”

“Yeah, I did,” he nodded. “There were moments when I was far away, when the road stretched on and on, that I found myself missing this small town. The people, the way everything felt familiar… After a while, the constant moving, the not having a place to call my own, it started to wear me down, I guess.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you found yourself relating more than you expected. You had always seen Ace as someone who thrived on adventure, always moving, never tied down. Hearing him say that even he missed the comfort of stability gave you a strange sense of connection. 

“So, that’s why you came back?” 

Ace’s smile widened slightly at your question, and he gave a casual shrug, though there was something deeper behind it. “Partly,” he replied, his voice carrying a thoughtful tone. He paused for a moment, as if weighing something.

“Partly?” you pressed, your tone a little more insistent, urging him to share more. “What was the other reason?”

Just as Ace opened his mouth to respond, the sound of Whitebeard’s booming voice echoed through the bar, cutting your conversation short. “It’s getting late,” Whitebeard announced, his voice carrying authority. “Time to close up and head out.”

You and Ace exchanged a look, the moment slipping away too quickly. You both knew there wasn’t enough time to continue your conversation now. You let out a small sigh, your curiosity still swirling inside you, left unsatisfied. There was something in Ace’s eyes, something he hadn’t shared yet, and you found yourself wondering if you’d ever get to hear it.

You wiped the last of the spilled beer from the counter with a rag, your eyes scanning the empty bar. The clinking of glassware and the muted hum of the old jukebox had faded into silence, signaling the end of another long night. You'd been home for a few days now, back in the sleepy town where you’d grown up, and the quiet had started to finally feel familiar.

You sighed as you stood up from the counter, glancing at the clock. The bar’s last patrons had left hours ago, and it was finally time to close. Just as you moved toward the back to grab the cleaning supplies, the door swung open again, the sound of the bell jingling.

“Hey. You still here?” Ace’s voice called out, playful as ever.

You turned and saw him standing in the doorway, his jacket slung over one shoulder, the familiar grin on his face. You couldn’t suppress a smile. Ace D. Portgas. The same as ever. He'd always had a way of showing up at just the right time, or maybe it was more like the wrong time, depending on how you looked at it.

“Of course I’m still here,” you replied, setting the rag down. “You don’t think I intended to leave without cleaning up, do you?”

Ace chuckled, walking into the bar like it was his second home—because, in a way, it kind of was. Whitebeard saw Ace as part of the family, after all, and he reminded you about that far too much, hinting how much he would love for it to be official.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve got your work ethic and all that, but c'mon, take a break. You’ve been at this all night.”

You shook your head, laughing. “I’m fine. You know how it is, Ace. People come in, they want to drink, and we keep it running. Besides, someone has to make sure Dad doesn’t overdo it on his own.”

“You know, it’s not your job to babysit him.”

You shrugged, leaning against the bar yourself. “Someone has to.”

Ace just rolled his eyes and started to help out. You were still surprised why he showed up here now, but you weren't to question him, especially when he was helping you out. 

“You seen the festival yet?” Ace asked you suddenly.

“Festival?”

“The Winter Starlight Festival,” he clarified. “It’s a big deal around here. You must remember that.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning on the counter again. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been… busy with, you know, running the bar and getting back into the swing of things. I’m sure it’s the same old thing.”

Ace’s grin widened. “No way. You have to see it. It’s part of the charm. You grew up here, you can’t skip it now that you’re back.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I wasn’t exactly planning on reliving my childhood.”

But Ace wasn’t deterred. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, and looked at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye. “Well, too bad. You’re coming with me tomorrow night, no excuses. I’ll drag you if I have to.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed, your smile softening. “Fine. But only because you’re not going to let me hear the end of it if I don’t.”

Ace straightened up, looking pleased with himself. “I knew you’d come around. It’s going to be great. You’ll see.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes again, but there was warmth in your chest you hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, you could use a little more of the charm this town had to offer—and a little less of the city hustle that still clung to you.

When you went to the festival, the night came alive with the vibrant hum of the winter festivities. Lanterns were strung across the town square, casting a warm, golden glow over the snow-dusted ground.

You pulled your scarf tighter against the sharp winter chill, glancing at Ace beside you. His grin was as bright as the lights surrounding them, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold—or maybe from the excitement. He was holding two steaming cups of hot wine, one of which he handed to you.

“Here, this’ll warm you up,” he said with a wink.

You took a sip, sighing at the way the spiced drink thawed your insides. “I almost forgot how charming this festival is.”

“Almost?” Ace raised an eyebrow, mock-offended. “Come on, this is the highlight of the year!”

You laughed, bumping your shoulder against his. “Maybe. What’s next, the snowball fight tournament?”

Ace smirked, shaking his head. “You wish. I signed us up for the partner’s sled race.”

Your eyes widened. “You what?”

Before you could protest, the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, calling for participants to gather at the starting line. Ace grabbed your free hand, tugging you toward the race area.

“Oh, come on,” he said, his voice laced with mischief. “You’re not afraid of a little friendly competition, are you?”

The sleds were lined up at the top of a hill, each designed for two people. You groaned when you saw the steep slope and the sharp twists in the track.

“This was your idea of fun?” you asked, glaring at Ace. He only grinned wider.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got the steering, and you’ve got… uh… balance.”

“That doesn’t sound like an equal division of labor!”

“Relax,” Ace said, climbing into the sled and patting the space behind him. “I promise I won’t get us killed.”

Grumbling under your breath, you settled behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’d better not.”

When the whistle blew, the sleds shot forward down the hill, the crisp wind biting at your face. Your initial scream of protest quickly turned into laughter as Ace expertly navigated the twists and turns, leaning into each curve with practiced ease. You gripped him tighter when they hit a jump, the sled briefly airborne before landing smoothly.

By the time you crossed the finish line, you were both breathless, laughing, and covered in snowflakes that clung to your hair and clothes. You didn’t win, but it hardly seemed to matter.

“See?” Ace said, his eyes sparkling. “Told you it’d be fun.”

You shook your head, your cheeks aching from smiling so much. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you’re stuck with me for the rest of the festival,” he replied, offering you his hand to help you up.

As the evening wore on, you both wandered between the booths, sampling festival treats and watching the performers. But it wasn’t just the music or the festivities that kept you there. You couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the amount of hot beverages you’d consumed.

You were starting to realize that the small, quiet moments with Ace—no matter how absurd—were the best part of being home.

The next day, you dedicated your time to transforming the bar into a Christmas spectacle. You adorned the space with festive decorations, creating a cozy and merry atmosphere. Garlands and tinsel hung from every available surface, while Christmas trinkets and baubles were strategically placed around the bar.

You were standing on a stool, tying a garland around one of the bar's rafters, when you heard the door creak open. You turned to see Ace walking into the bar.

“Hey, Ace,” you greeted him, a small smile on your face. “Just the person I wanted to see. Would you mind giving me a hand with something?”

Ace raised an eyebrow at your request, a hint of curiosity and amusement in his eyes as he took in the sight of you balancing on the stool with the garland in hand. “Oh?” he said, walking closer to you. “What do you need me to do?”

You chuckled at his response, lowering the garland from the rafter. “I need help with these garlands,” you said, gesturing toward the rest of the undecorated areas of the bar. “They're a bit too high for me to reach. Could you hang them for me?”

Ace looked at the remaining garlands and the high areas of the bar, a cocky grin appearing on his face. “Sure thing,” he said with a smirk. “Step aside, I got this.”

You stepped down from the stool, watching as Ace confidently climbed. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his overconfidence. You handed him the garlands and stepped back to watch and guide him if needed.

Ace took the garlands from you, and he hung them with ease, his eyes darting around the bar to ensure everything was perfectly placed. You watched him, a small, impressed smile playing on your lips. You had to admit, Ace was surprisingly good at this unexpected task, and he seemed to be enjoying himself a bit too much.

Ace finished hanging the last of the garlands and stepped down from the stool, a satisfied smile on his face. “There you go,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Perfect placement, if I do say so myself.”

You chuckled at his pride and rolled your eyes playfully. “Yes, you did a great job,” you admitted, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. “You're such a natural at Christmas decorating.”

“What can I say? I'm a man of many talents,”

You folded your arms and looked at him. “Speaking of which,” you said, your tone slightly coy, “do you think you could help me get a Christmas tree for the bar?”

Ace raised an eyebrow, pretending to think for a moment. “A Christmas tree, huh?” he replied, a sly smile spreading across his face. “I suppose I could spare some time to help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you,” you spoke, your voice sincere. “I've been struggling to figure out how to get one all by myself. It's a bit challenging to transport a Christmas tree by myself. And I didn't want to trouble Dad.”

 “I can imagine. Don’t mention it. I’ll help you get the tree. I was thinking of getting one here anyway.”

“Great,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “I really appreciate your help.”

“No problem. I can't have you struggling with Christmas decorating all by yourself. Besides, it'll be fun.”

You smiled at his easygoing attitude, once again noticing how willing he always was to help. “Fun, huh?” you said with a slightly sarcastic tone. “I'm sure hauling a Christmas tree to the bar will be a blast.”

Ace chuckled, his smirk widening. “Hey, any activity can be fun with the right company,” he said, his eyes meeting yours briefly.

You felt a slight flutter in your chest at his words, but quickly pushed it aside.  “Oh, so I'm the right company, huh?” you teased.

Ace shrugged. “Of course,” he said nonchalantly. “Who else would I prefer to spend my time with on a Christmas tree-picking adventure?”

You couldn’t resist a small jab. “One of your fangirls, maybe?”

Ace shook his head, the smirk on his face unwavering. “Nah,” he said, his tone casual. “They're too clingy. I prefer you and your sarcastic remarks.”

A hint of satisfaction and something resembling flattery crept up on you, but you quickly regained your composure. “Better not tell them that.”

 “Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “I don’t need them getting jealous over our little Christmas tree-picking adventure.”

“Oh, I'm sure they would be devastated,”

Ace laughed and pushed himself off the wall. “Let’s go find ourselves a tree.”

As you both turned to head out, you caught a glimpse of the clock hanging on the wall of the bar. It was earlier than you initially thought, and a look of realization crossed your face. You paused for a moment and looked back at him.

“Wait a minute,” you said, furrowing your brow slightly. “Why did you come here so early?”

Ace, already heading towards the door, stopped in his tracks and turned back to you. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning innocence.

You stood there, arms crossed, a skeptical look on your face. “I mean,” you continued, your tone slightly amused. “It’s a lot earlier than you should come in.”

He scratched the back of his head and shrugged casually. “Yeah, I guess I did come in a bit earlier today,” he admitted, trying to maintain his nonchalance.

“Why is that?” you asked, a small, puzzled smile on your face. “What brings you here so early today?”

Ace scratched the back of his head again, his casual demeanor faltering slightly. He looked a little awkward and admitted, “Well, actually, Pops may have mentioned that you were coming in early to decorate the bar. So, I thought I'd pop in and see if you needed any help.”

You were taken aback by his sudden shyness, a rare sight from the usually confident Ace. “Ah, I see,” you said, a soft smile spreading across your face. “So, you came in to offer your assistance, huh?”

 “Yeah, figured I might as well lend a hand if you need it.”

You sensed his slight discomfort and decided to ease the tension. “Well, I did use a hand,” you said, your tone lighthearted. “Especially since you were so good at hanging garlands.”

“Yeah, I do have a talent for decorating.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased. “Now, come on, let’s get that tree, and we’ll see later if you can decorate one as well.”

“Oh, you doubt my tree-decorating abilities? Challenge accepted.”

“Just don’t disappoint me.”

As you walked toward the door, you didn’t notice how Ace mumbled quietly behind you. “I'd never want to disappoint you…”

His voice was soft, barely audible, but he had said it regardless.

Unaware of his whispered words, you continued walking to the door, your mind focused on the upcoming tree-picking adventure. Little did you know the impact of those soft-spoken words that had escaped Ace’s mouth.

After a small drive in Ace's pickup truck, you and Ace reached the tree-hunting spot. The area was filled with rows of Christmas trees of various sizes and species. The smell of pine filled the air, and the trees swayed gently in the cool winter breeze.

You glanced around at the vast array of trees, a touch of awe on your face. “Wow,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “There are so many to choose from!”

Ace stood next to you, his hands in his pockets, scanning the trees with a critical eye. “Yeah, there's quite a selection here.”

You nodded, your eyes darting from tree to tree. “Right,” you agreed, a determined expression on your face. “We need to find one that's just the right size and shape for the bar.”

He chuckled a bit at your determined expression, finding it somewhat endearing. “Don't worry,” he said, a note of amusement in his voice. “I'm sure you will find the perfect one.”

You shot him a quick glare, your determination unwavering. “Oh, I will,” you said, your tone slightly sassy. “I won't settle for anything less than perfection.”

As you surveyed the trees with keen focus, you didn’t notice the subtle shift in Ace’s expression. Your remark about not settling for anything less than perfection seemed to hit him in a way you hadn’t anticipated. His jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, his usual carefree demeanor evaporated.

“Hey, what do you think of this one?” you asked, turning to him and gesturing to a tall, full tree.

Ace blinked, shaking off his thoughts as he glanced at the tree you pointed out. He forced a casual tone. “Looks pretty good,” he said, his voice returning to its usual easygoing cadence. “Should make a nice centerpiece for the bar.”

You studied the tree, your eyes dancing over its lush branches, a pleased smile curling on your lips. “Yeah, I think you're right,” you agreed. “It has the perfect shape and size, plus it's really full and lush. Let’s go get it!”

“Alright then,” he said with a smirk. “Lead the way, Christmas tree connoisseur.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Hey, I just know what I want,” you defended with a small smile. “You haven’t even tried to help me pick a tree.”

“Well, you seemed to have it all under control,” he teased. “I didn’t want to interrupt your quest for perfection.”

The bitter edge that had briefly crept into his voice when he mentioned your search for perfection didn’t go unnoticed by you. You shot him a questioning glance, but before you could ask, the salesman, a jovial middle-aged man, approached with a friendly greeting.

“Are you both here to pick a Christmas tree today?”

You smiled politely at him, momentarily distracted from the conversation. “Yes, we are,” you replied. “We’d like to get this one here.”

The salesman examined the tree you had chosen, nodding approvingly. “Excellent choice,” he said with a grin. “This one will look lovely in your home.”

You opened your mouth to correct him, but before you could speak, Ace quickly interjected with a smirk.

“Yep, she’s got a good eye for these things,” he said, his voice still laced with mockery. “She won’t settle for less than perfection.”

The salesman chuckled, clearly interpreting the playful banter as a sign of affection. “Well, it seems you’ve got yourself a determined partner,” he remarked, nodding at the tree.

You shot Ace a pointed glare, clearly unimpressed by his teasing or the salesman's assumption. But before you could respond, the salesman continued, “Shall I bring it over to checkout for you?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Ace said, his voice casual.

The salesman nodded and walked off to get a tree and arrange the payment. You stood for a moment, your gaze still locked on Ace, not hiding the irritation in your eyes.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You look a bit irritated.”

“I’m not irritated,” you huffed, your tone sharp. “I just don’t appreciate your mockery, that’s all.”

“Oh, come on, I was just teasing,” he said lightly. “Can’t a guy have a little fun?”

You rolled your eyes. “I just don’t understand why you got so hung up on my comment about wanting perfection,”

As soon as the words left your lips, Ace’s playful smirk faltered. His expression hardened, his jaw setting. “Let’s just pay for the tree,” he muttered, his voice more serious.

Without another word, Ace turned and walked toward the salesman, leaving you standing there, your confusion mounting. What had just happened? Your comment about perfection had clearly struck a nerve, but why?

Shaking your head, you let out a quiet sigh and followed him to the salesman. “All set to pay for this beauty?” the man asked.

“Yes, we’re ready,” Ace replied politely, though his voice was a little distant.

You waited silently beside him, your curiosity about Ace’s reaction still nagging at you. You glanced at him briefly, noting how his jaw remained tense, but you said nothing. Not here, not now.

The payment and arrangements for the tree felt like a blur to you. Your mind kept drifting back to that moment—Ace's abrupt shift in mood, his strange reaction to your words about perfection. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was going on, but for now, the Christmas tree was the priority.

“Ugh, can you shift it a bit to the left?” Ace grumbled, his patience wearing thin.

“I'm trying!” you retorted, your voice matching his frustrated tone. “It's not exactly easy when you're stuck holding all the branches.”

“Well, maybe if you had chosen a slightly smaller tree, we wouldn't be struggling like this,” he fired back.

“Oh, like you were any help with choosing,” you shot back, your eyes narrowing. “You just stood there making weird comments.”

“I-”

He was about to spit out a retort, but before he could, you both heard a booming voice come from behind you, “What's all this noise about?”

Turning around, you saw the large figure of your dad approaching, a curious expression on his face.

“Uh, we, um,” you started, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish at being caught bickering. “We're just trying to bring the tree in.”

Whitebeard eyed the large tree you were struggling with and chuckled heartily. “Quite a big one you've got there.” 

Ace shifted his grip on the tree, a hint of embarrassment on his face. “Yeah, it was the only one that fit her standards,” he said, casting a quick glare your way.

You shot him a withering glance in return, not appreciating his comment. Whitebeard let out another hearty chuckle, amused by your banter. “I see,” he said, crossing his arms. “Well, let me give you both a hand, then.”

Both you and Ace accepted the help gratefully, and with his assistance, you finally managed to maneuver the tree through the doorway and into the bar’s main room. Exhausted, you leaned against the bar, taking a moment to catch your breath.

Whitebeard looked over the tree and gave an approving nod. “Not bad, not bad at all,” he said, a satisfied smile on his face. “It’ll make for quite the centerpiece for the bar.”

You nodded in agreement, your earlier irritation with Ace momentarily forgotten. “Yeah, it looks perfect,” you expressed, a slight sense of accomplishment in your voice.

“Looks like you two make a pretty good team, even with the bickering,” he teased, which earned him a small mock-glare from both of you.

 “We manage, don’t we?” Ace said, glancing at you with a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Yes, we do.”

Whitebeard watched the exchange between you two with a knowing smile, not missing the slight tension in the air. Deciding it was time to leave you both be, he patted you both on the backs.

“Well, best leave you both to it then,” he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “I'm sure you've got plenty of decorating ahead of you.”

You both nodded and thanked him for his help, watching as he made his way back toward the back.

“I've got it from here,” you said the moment your dad left you two alone. “You don't have to stay for the decorating part.”

Ace, who had been leaning against the bar, looked a bit surprised at your statement. “No way! I'm helping.”

You were taken aback by his insistence to help, surprised that he was still willing after the previous bickering. But a small, relieved smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Really? You want to help with decorating?”

Ace pushed himself off the bar and straightened, a smirk on his face. “Of course. Can't let you hog all the fun, can I?”

You chuckled, a feeling of gratitude fluttering in your chest. “Alright then, if you insist,” you said, your tone softer now. “I'm not going to turn down the help.”

Ace chuckled lightly and began rolling up his sleeves. “Let's get started then.”

You nodded and dug through the decorations you had left there earlier, pulling out string lights, tinsel, and various ornaments. Together, you started decorating the tree, hanging the lights, and placing baubles carefully on the branches.

Ace teased you lightly as you worked, making fun of your attention to detail and your need to have everything just so. You rolled your eyes at his comments, but a small smile lingered on your face as you adorned the tree.

Surprisingly, you worked together well, bantering back and forth as you decorated. The tree slowly took shape, lights twinkling and baubles glittering under the glow of the bar's lights. As you stepped back to admire the progress, Ace let out a low whistle.

“Looks like all of your perfectionism wasn’t for nothing,” he said, a hint of teasing in his tone. “This tree looks quite impressive, I must admit.”

You laughed and nudged him lightly, a genuine smile on your face. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

You stopped and looked up at the tree, observing the nearly finished work. “There's only one thing missing,” You turned to Ace, holding up a small star for a tree topper. “Can you grab a chair and place this on top?”

“No need for a chair,” he answered confidently, and before you could respond, he stepped forward and easily picked you up in his arms.

You let out a surprised gasp, your eyes widening as you found yourself being lifted into the air. “Hey, what are you doing?! Put me down!” you protested, even as a small giggle escaped your lips.

 “Don't worry, I've got you,” he assured you, walking closer to the tree. “And I'm not putting you down until this star is properly placed on the tree.”

You grumbled lightly, but your complaints were half-hearted, and you secretly enjoyed the sensation of him carrying you. You reached the tree, and he held you up next to the topmost branch.

“Ready?”

With a bit of a flourish, he lifted you higher, steadying you against the tree trunk. You placed the star at the very top, and he lowered you back down to the ground. A triumphant smile spread across his face as he looked up at the fully decorated tree.

“See? We made it just fine without the chair.”

“Show off.”

As you both looked at each other, you suddenly became aware of your proximity. Your bodies stood mere inches apart, his hands still resting on your waist. The realization sent a small flutter, but neither of you made a move to step away.

Your breath hitched slightly as your eyes met, and you could feel the solid warmth of his hands through the material of your shirt. You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. But rather than stepping back, you remained where you were, strangely aware of every point of contact between you.

Your gaze dropped to his hands on your waist, his long fingers splayed against your sides, and you swallowed again before looking at his face once more. His own eyes flicked down to your mouth, and your lips parted slightly in your shared surprise.

All the playful banter of earlier was gone, and now the silence between you was broken only by the sound of your breaths, mingling together in the small space between you.  Then, as if by some unspoken cue, you both leaned in towards each other simultaneously. 

Your lips were just a breath apart, and just when you thought you would feel his lips on yours, the bar door opened loudly, punctuated with the sound of the bell above it. 

You snapped apart abruptly, both jumping back as if waking up from a dream. The cold air was a cruel blow against your heated skin, and the reality of the situation dawned on you. The spell was broken, and you were left standing there, awkwardly apart and aware of how close you'd come to kissing one another.

You both turned to see who had entered the bar, finding several familiar faces of Whitebeard's friends. A few of them raised eyebrows in surprise at the sudden distance between you two; one of them—Marco—even winked knowingly, but no one mentioned anything out loud. They all came in, chattering away, but neither of you could fully focus on the conversation. Your thoughts were still stuck on that interrupted moment, the memory of how close you'd come to crossing a line burning in your mind.

Soon after, your father joined you, and surveyed the room, his face lit up with approval. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he boomed, making his way over to where you stood. “Looks like you two have been productive.”

A surge of panic bubbled up inside you as you scrambled for something to say, your mind racing through possible responses. What would Ace say? What could you say to brush past this? 

But before your thoughts could spiral out of control, Whitebeard mercifully continued:

“The tree looks splendid. You've done a fine job indeed.” 

You both turned to your dad, doing your best to appear composed, though your racing hearts betrayed you. “Thanks,” you managed, your voice wavering just slightly. “We, uh, got it all done.”

“Yeah,” Ace added, “um, we did.” 

You grimaced internally about how awkward both of you sounded, wondering if your father would figure something out or, worse, comment on it. 

Whitebeard’s sharp eyes flicked between the two of you, a knowing glint in his gaze. A sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he chose not to address it. Instead, he gave you both hearty pats on the back that nearly knocked the breath out of you. “Good work,” he said warmly. “I’m proud of you both.”

You cracked a brief smile in return, though the charged energy from earlier still coursed through you. The memory of how close you had been persisted like a flame refusing to burn out. 

Soon, Whitebeard launched into a conversation about the holiday season and the upcoming celebrations. You nodded along, replying where needed, your words measured and careful. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, your thoughts kept drifting back to Ace. Each time your eyes accidentally met his, a flicker of shared awareness passed between you before you both quickly looked away.

The almost-kiss had changed something—a crackling tension that neither of you knew how to address. You continued interacting with others, keeping with a casual conversation. Yet, beneath it all, your pulse quickened with every stolen glance, the unspoken moment between you refusing to be forgotten.

It was just a few days after the near-kiss accident, and the bar was quieter than usual. The holidays were fast approaching, and you had spent most of the day restocking and preparing for the annual Christmas party Whitebeard hosted at the bar. Yet, your mind kept drifting back to that one moment—the one you couldn’t quite shake.

You could still feel the warmth of his breath as he leaned in just a little too close, the way your heart had skipped in your chest when he looked at you like that. It had felt like the perfect moment… You’d nearly kissed him, but you didn’t. Neither of you had. And neither of you had said a word about it since. It was as though it hadn’t happened at all, like the moment had been a figment of your imagination.

You pretended it didn’t happen, and both of you went back to your routine, working side by side in Whitebeard’s bar, the tension between you buried beneath the normalcy of your lives.

You were just about to step into the back to grab some more supplies when your phone buzzed on the counter. You glanced at the screen. It was a number from work—a colleague from the city you hadn’t spoken to in weeks.

“Hey,” you answered, walking into the back room. "How’s city life? Anything changed?"

His cheerful voice filled the line as you absently scanned the shelves, picking out a few items you’d need later.

“Yeah, it’s been a while! How’ve you been?” You picked up a few things, putting them together for easier access later. “Oh, no, I haven’t had the chance to—wait, what? You want to go on a date?” You paused your action, surprised by his question. 

“I’m flattered, really. But no. I’m not—no, it’s not that. I’m just not interested like that.”

You finished your conversation quickly, grabbed the items you wanted, and headed back to the main room, slipping behind the bar. Ace was there, wiping down the counter with a level of intensity that felt... off. You turned to ask him a question, but the tension radiating from him stopped you. His jaw was set, and the cloth in his hand moved aggressively over the same spot. 

“Hey, everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, clearly trying to avoid eye contact.

You furrowed your brow. “You sure? You’re acting kinda weird.”

Ace let out a short, humorless laugh. “Weird, huh? Like you care?”

That was not the answer you expected. “Come on, what’s up, Ace? You’ve got that look in your eye.”

He stared at you, his eyes narrowing. “That look in my eye?”

“Yeah” you said, crossing your arms and leaning slightly against the bar. "That look. The ‘I’m-a-little-annoyed-but-I-don’t-want-to-tell-you’ look.”

Ace didn’t respond right away, instead shifting his gaze to the empty glasses in front of him. After a long beat, he looked up at you, a bitter edge in his voice. “You know that guy from the city must be perfect for you. He asked you out, didn’t he?”

“Well, yeah… but—”

He cut you off before you could finish. “You’re the city girl, the one with the perfect job, the perfect life. And then there’s me… I’m not that. I have nothing to offer. You wouldn’t want a guy like me. You can’t settle for less than perfect. I was so stupid to believe otherwise.”

Without another word, Ace turned on his heel and stormed out of the bar, the door closing with a sharp bang.

“Hey, kid. You look like you’ve got something heavy on your mind.”

You looked up, surprised to see the concern etched into your father’s weathered face.  You hesitated, fiddling with the rag in your hands before sighing. “It’s nothing, Dad. Just the usual holiday stress.”

The bar was alive with the soft glow of Christmas lights; the smell of spiced cider filled the air, and cheerful decorations hung in every corner. But something was missing. Or more like someone.

Ace was nowhere to be found.

He hadn’t come back, and no matter how much you told yourself it didn’t matter, the truth was unavoidable. The empty space where he should have been felt cruelly obvious, hitting you with an ache that settled in your chest.

Was it too late to fix this?

Your dad's gaze stayed fixed on you, his eyes sharp and perceptive despite the softness of his tone. “Don’t give me that. I know when something’s bothering you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers brushing against the counter as if grounding yourself. “It’s Ace.”

Your father didn’t press for details. He didn’t need to—he already knew. “Ace, huh?” he said with a knowing chuckle. “You two have always had a funny way of dancing around things, but I can tell something’s different now.”

Your shoulders slumped, and you let your gaze drift to the empty stool where Ace usually perched, cracking jokes or lending a hand. “He… said some things. Things that I don’t know how to process… And then he left… And now, I don’t know what to do about it.”

Whitebeard leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms with a thoughtful nod. “Listen, kid. I know you’ve been through a lot in the city. You’ve always carried the weight of everything on your shoulders, always thinking about everyone else first—even your old man. But what about you? What about what you want?”

“Dad, I don’t know what I want. I—”

“You do,” he interrupted gently. “You’ve always known. You’re just scared of admitting it. You’ve always been afraid of choosing the wrong thing, of making the wrong choice, but sometimes—sometimes the right choice is the one that makes you the happiest, not the one that’s safe or easy. And I can see it, kid. Ace is important to you. He’s always been, even when you didn’t want to see it.”

You took a deep breath, your resolve solidifying as you straightened. “Thanks, Dad. I think I know what I need to do.”

His hand landed on your shoulder, heavy and reassuring, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Go get him. I’ll hold down the fort here. And you both better show up for the Christmas party. Happy and disgustingly in love.”

Grabbing your coat, you slipped out of the bar, heading for the small apartment where you knew Ace stayed when he wasn’t on the move. You knocked first, but there was no answer. So, you pushed the door open—just a crack.

“Ace?” you called, stepping inside.

The apartment was lit only in a soft, dim light, the only source a string of flickering Christmas lights wrapped around a tiny tree in the corner.

At first, you didn’t see him, but then your eyes found him—sitting by the window, his back to you, staring out into the snowy night. He didn’t even acknowledge your presence at first.

You swallowed, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves crawling up your spine, but you knew this was something that couldn’t be left unsaid. Not anymore.

“Ace,” you said again, stepping closer. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t move, but his voice—low and heavy with exhaustion—came out before you could continue. “Thought you might show up.” His tone wasn’t angry anymore. It was just… resigned.

“You should’ve waited until the end of that phone conversation. Or at least hear me out later.”

That finally caught his attention. He turned his head slowly, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

But instead of answering him, you asked, “When we talked the first day, you said that missing familiarity was partly the reason for you to come back. What was the other reason?”

Silence.

“Ace,” you pressed gently.

“You,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you, and I was hoping you would come back too.”

“Then why didn’t you just call or text—”

“When I got here, your dad kept talking about how good you felt in the city, and I knew there were better guys there for you than me. And I was right…”

You exhaled, the weight of his words pressing against your chest, but you forced your body to relax. You stepped back, crossing your arms, your heart beating faster. “I turned him down. The guy? I turned him down. I’m not interested in going back to the city with him. I don’t want that.”

Your heart beat a little faster as you met his gaze. You didn't plan on saying this, not like this. But now that the words were coming, you couldn’t stop them.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want perfect, Ace. I have no idea why you ingrained that thought in your brain. I don’t want someone who has it all figured out. I want something that feels real, something that feels safe and comfortable. Something I can count on.”

Ace’s eyes flickered with confusion, but you could see the shift, the moment the words started to sink in. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the final part.

“And what I want…” Your voice softened. “What I want is you.”

“You want me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was full of disbelief.

“Yeah.”

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward, closing the space between you in an instant. Your hands found their place at the back of his neck, pulling him into you as you kissed him—soft, slow, but certain. This time, there was no hesitation.

And at that moment, you realized you didn’t need anything else. You weren’t looking for perfect. You were looking for this—this moment, this connection, this person who had always been there, waiting for you to see what was right in front of you.

[mintleflower]

ignore Rogier ok

[snekdood]

i honestly deserved none of the shit ppl did to me that lead me to this point

[mxdotpng]

the zestiria anime fixes and also messes up many things at the exact same time its actually kind of impressive i have to salute them for it

[melzula]

Okay I have an request

So like we are azula and zuko sister and we adored by both but like in the catacombs we choose gaang over azula and zuko of this and please can y/n x sokka and now zuko now wants to join gaang and yeah I am not good with words I hope u understand what I said😁

Y/n can be a firebender or non bender its ur choice anyway

a/n: okay so there’s a lot to tackle in this request which is why i chose to do it as headcanons so i hope you don’t mind !

summary: being the middle child isn’t easy, especially when your siblings are Zuko and Azula

As the only non-bender and middle child of the royal family, you never felt like you mattered

You were the Black Swan of the palace, a disgrace to your father and his image

You kept to yourself, staying in the shadows and out of his way while your siblings took the spotlight

However, just because your father looked down upon you didn’t mean your siblings shared his sentiment

In fact, they adored you

Zuko was an attentive older brother. He let you follow him everywhere, defended you against anyone who dared speak badly about you, and was your shoulder to cry on whenever your father was feeling particularly cruel

He saw you for who you were, and who you were was an intelligent, kind, talented young woman meant to do great things in her lifetime

Azula, while being particularly mean to Zuko at times, never once treated you the way she saw her brother

Despite you being a nonbender, she surprisingly never speaks down to you or makes you feel less than

It could be because she doesn’t see you as competition as she does Zuko, or maybe she truly does just feel genuine sisterly love for you

Maybe it’s because whenever she felt your mother was unfairly favoring your brother over her, you were always there to assure her that she was a wonderful bender and just as important

Maybe it’s because sometimes she wished you could be her mother instead

Whatever her reasoning, Azula sees you as a comforting presence in her life. She seeks your validation constantly almost as much as your father’s, and she’d do anything to protect you and your honor

Things became worse for you when Ursa left. She could no longer intervene when your father felt like tormenting you, and your siblings knew better than to say anything in your defense. Shortly after her banishment, Ozai deems it best to send you away to the academy since he has no other use for you

Your departure is hard for both siblings. Zuko is gutted that he can no longer be there to protect you or look after you. Though she acts as if she couldn’t care less, Azula is devastated at your leaving. Her source of comfort is being ripped away from her, and she has no one to look out for her

At the academy you learn various forms of physical combat and weaponry wielding. You’re especially fond of using tanto swords in battle and they’ve become your weapon of choice when in a fight

Zuko and Azula send you letters during your stay at school behind your father’s back updating you about your home, their lives, and their annoyance of each other. You keep every single one they send, and it eases the ache of your home sickness

It’s also at the school that you learn of the Agni Kai and Zuko’s banishment. Your heart breaks for your older brother, and you’re devastated at the fact that you never got the chance to say goodbye and you may never see him again. He still sends letter for a time, but as the years pass they become less frequent and almost nonexistent. Azula’s letters follow the same path

Years pass and your father deems it time for you to come home. Now that you’ve made a decent fighter out of yourself he finds your worthy of being his daughter again

However, your stay is short lived. Azula recruits you to be part of her little team to capture the Avatar and your brother, and you don’t really have any other choice but to agree

You downplay how skilled you are in fighting so that she doesn’t expect much from you and force you to do too much of the work. You don’t want to go against her, but you also don’t want to have to fight your brother and your uncle

You also don’t exactly feel good about destroying the world’s last hope for peace

And that’s why, when the time comes, you choose the Avatar over your siblings

You’re tired of being pulled back and forth, of always being stuck between your siblings with no real purpose, of not being able to do anything for yourself

Zuko is astonished by your choice and conflicted. Just when he finally had found his way back into the family you chose to leave it. Why were you doing this? Why were you ruining everything?

Azula is furious. Your betrayal hurts worse than mother’s. You’d always taken her side, always comforted her and supported her, you’d always been there, and now you were leaving. How dare you leave her?

“You fool!” She’d cried, angrily sending a blast of blue flames your way knowing you wouldn’t be able to stop it. If not for Iroh, surely her strike would have ended you. The fact that your own sister was willing to hurt you for the cause was enough proof to know you were making the right decision

You help the Avatar escape and join his group, vowing to help them in any way you can to win the war. Your fighting skills and knowledge of the Fire Nation makes you a big help and they appreciate your assistance

It doesn’t take long for you to win their trust and acclimate into their group. You become fast friends with everyone, growing especially close to Sokka who may or may not have a huge crush on you

He definitely becomes your shoulder to lean on when things get tough, because he knows it can’t be easy for you to just leave all you’ve ever known behind. you struggle constantly over having to choose the Avatar over your siblings, but he constantly assures you that you’ve made the right choice

Least to say your departure makes Zuko’s return home even more conflicting and turmoil filled. How can he enjoy being back home when you’re not there to enjoy it with him? How could he be happy knowing his sister was out there risking her life to help the Avatar?

Your decision definitely inspires his own to leave the Fire Nation and aid Aang and his friends

Your abandonment of your siblings also fuels Azula’s descent into madness, fueling her fire to continue her mission to capture the Avatar

It’s a rough position you’ve found yourself in, but it’s not like your whole life hasn’t been you stuck in a terrible spot

Being the middle child is hard, especially when your siblings are Zuko and Azula

[neverfilth]

"Bloberta made Clay drink so-"

OKAY, BUT DO YOU KNOW WHY?

Let me explain

'Help'.

A very important word when describing Bloberta.

First, it is integral to understand that Bloberta feels torturously alone and unwanted. Her friends are all getting married while she has no one.

She isn't clever enough to help Censordoll.

Her own family leaves her out of the family choir. 

And the only crumb of validation she is offered is from her mother.

“Why don't you help me out and… Clean your room?” Note even the slight pause her mother has, as if she doesn't even know what to do with Bloberta.

Next, we see her trudge to her room. And what does she hide under the covers of her bed?

A flask.

She turns to alcohol when she is confronted with how unwanted she is. But where did that draw to alcohol come from?

We know she comes from a home where she is ultimately ignored and seen as valueless by everyone except one person.

Her Father.

I have a lot of thoughts about Bloberta and Raymond's relationship (the one scene where they interact just UGH LIVES IN MY HEAD) but the main thing to get away from it is that she associates the act of drinking with her Father.

A man who, without alcohol, is unable to speak his mind at all. He drinks to better tolerate his situation and his wife, who clearly doesn't value his words or opinions.

But Bloberta is very receptive to her Father, she greatly values his company and his thoughts and she finds comfort in being around him. She feels like someone cares about her and values her even if she knows he can't change anything.

Notice that despite her desperation to speak with her father, to form that connection that would validate her, she can't even touch him because she knows doing so would break the frail connection they have currently. Her Father is so reserved that at this point, any unexpected emotional reach would immediately cause him to shut down and retreat. Demonstrated just by him closing up immediately after she told him she loved him.

So how does this affect Blobertas perception of alcohol?

Well she says it herself.

"I think it helps us to be better people".

This rationality was reinforced by the small acts of kindness her father would show her.

And we don't have any reason to believe she is lying about this because up until the night of the reception, she's experienced nothing that contradicts this belief.

Bloberta's reliance on alcohol can be seen as her reaching for a solution to her need to feel wanted. She knows she's left out, both by friends and family. But if she believes drinking can make you become a better person? Then of course she would drink, because maybe then someone will want her.

What does she say directly after that?

"My Father drinks.”

Further insinuating her belief that he is good and he is the main reason she sees alcohol as a positive force.

She thought it would genuinely help Clay.

There's that word again.

Importantly, notice her clear anxiety and tenseness in her beginning interactions with Clay. From her first question, their conversation began falling apart.

So what happened?

Just after the wedding, she was almost suave in the way she invited Clay to the reception.

Why was she so nervous now?

Well, in her eyes, this was her chance.

After an undisclosed time of having no luck she finally convinces a handsome single man to have some semblance of a date with her.

She NEEDS this to go well.

So she's obviously anxious and stressed, and that's showing, but she figures that some drinks will make it easier for both of them. She's full panicking because she feels it's just so normal to drink, especially socially, and she can't understand why he wouldn't drink. She has no frame of reference for that mindset.

Things are already awkward between them once they settle in, and its not getting better. So of course she is going to fall back on what makes things easier for her.

And initially things are looking up.

Suddenly Clay's more talkative, and more receptive to what she's saying.

He's complimenting her.

He says she helped him.

The one thing she wants more than anything is to feel useful, she wants to be able to fit into that role that everyone expects her to so that she can be of worth to someone.

She isn't worth it to her peers,

she isn't worth it to her family,

but she could be worth it to him.

This only reinforces her resolve. 

This is it.

She is going to finally find her place to fit in, and everyone will welcome her with open arms as she finally finds her place in the role society has chosen for her.

But it's not that simple.

Things go south quickly, Clay doesn't want these things that Bloberta has to have. 

But she needs them.

To Bloberta, those things are proof of your value. The value society, friends, and family place on you.

Who would she be if she couldn't attain that value?

We again recognize that Bloberta has a fixation on being helpful. Helpfulness is the clearest indication of one's value, after all.

After being turned away by Clay, she immediately returns to a default ‘helpful’ act, cleaning. Just like her mother would tell her to do. But this was still her only chance, and Clay had already told her she had helped him. If she could only help him again, then maybe she had a chance at the real value she craved.

Once her anger passes and Clay sobers up, she returns to him and paints herself as ‘helpful’ as possible. She's desperate for that validation again, and if he would agree to her help then everything would certainly be fine.

She is practically begging him, help becomes a plea for him to save her from the pain of her day to day.

She hopes more than anything he will accept her and make all her pain go away.

He does accept, but in exchange, her previous world view is shattered.

Drinks don't help you become a better person.

They just help your true nature come out.

[burst-of-iridescent]

well since i can already tell that we’re all going to be subjected to the same old tired mai & mai.ko discourse for the foreseeable future, let’s get it clear right now that the atla comics have never been, and will never be acceptable mediums of character development, and here’s why:

1. the comics are given the benefit of hindsight, which impairs organic character growth.

it’s become extremely clear over the last few years that many of the comics are made as, or include, direct responses to criticisms of the original show — especially when it comes to katara, mai, and the canon pairings. aang didn’t ask katara for consent? look, he’s checking if he can kiss her! mai doesn’t care about fire nation imperialism? here, she’s an anti fascist! iroh was a creep to june? don’t worry, here he is apologising!

many of the things the characters do or say in the comics feel unnatural because they are not written as characters, but as mouthpieces for the creators to address fandom complaints from the original show.

“but that’s good, right? they’re trying to make it better!” i mean… sure? it still doesn’t change the fact that it’s damage control, and that no matter what stories span the middle, the arcs of these characters still begin and end with avatar: the last airbender, and the legend of korra, both of which are fixed and immutable. the comics cannot retroactively fix the issues of either show, because they’ve already been defined as the goalposts of the characters’ lives, and there is no way to undo that.

it’s like if you eat a meal that isn’t to your satisfaction, and maybe the chief makes you another dish, which is all well and good — but it doesn’t fix the fact that the original meal still sucked! sometimes, accepting criticism means accepting that there’s no way to go back and fix it but to do better next time, with the next story you wish to tell.

if the legend of korra didn’t exist, and the arcs of the characters were left open after atla, then maybe there would be for the room for the comics to function as character development if not for the fact that…

2. the comics are intended for a very different audience than the show.

it’s obvious that the audience for the original show vastly outnumbers the audience for the comics, likely by thousands, if not millions. this isn’t the mcu, where the installation of any atla property is vital to understanding the next, and so on. you can skip the comics and miss nothing whatsoever (and honestly your life would be far improved by doing so).

those who read the comics are likely only the real diehard fans of the show — and the creators know this, which is why we have the whole issue of point one above. but this difference in audience matters, because it reflects the significance of the story being told, and how important it is for the audience to know it. this is why, if the characters’ development and storylines in the comics truly, genuinely mattered, it would have been in the show already.

i’m not saying that the gaang wouldn’t have continued to grow and change post-atla, but generally stories exist as closed circuits, self-contained within themselves. when you end atla, you’re meant to believe that those arcs are finished. that’s the whole reason the comics deal mostly with fun silly adventures, or with quick, temporary conflicts instead of grand, overarching narratives, because they are not truly meant to function as a continuation of the story of atla, or its characters.

(if you ask me frankly, they’re meant to be nostalgia cash grabs, but that’s neither here nor there.)

creator intention matters with the atla comics (or any atla property, in fact), because creator intention was the subject of criticism for the original show in the first place. why must we rely on the comics or the cookbook or avatar legends to tell us that katara did things with her life outside of aang? why do we need to turn to something released nearly two decades after atla to find any evidence that mai denounced the fire nation’s imperialist indoctrination, when she’s romantically involved with one of the show’s most important characters? why are these stories relegated to a medium with far less reach, far too late?

the answer is that the writers didn’t find those stories to be originally worth telling, and that is the real problem fans have been pointing out since 2008.

so, tldr:

[enixamyram]

I truly do not get the "Angel sexually harassed Husk!!! He's awful and it's gross the writers never addressed it!!!" mindset some of the anti's have. Especially when the show very much did address it very clearly in a way that I, personally, believe was very well done:

"Maybe I'd treat you better if you were real, and not some bullshit version of yourself. Always pushin' my boundaries."

Husk openly calls Angel is a jerk for the way he treated him. He (and the writers) make it very clear that Angel's constant sexual advances bothered him. And this isn't a revelation moment either since it's obvious during every moment prior that Husk doesn't like the way Angel behaves with him, even if he puts up with it. He physically expresses his discomfort and dislike for it each time and you'd have to be blind to miss it.

People like myself may find a line of Angel's to be funny, but it's the same way we find other lines funny. (Like Val's: "Not off camera you're not!") As in, it was amusing the way the line was said. But that doesn't mean we're ignoring or missing the seriousness behind the issue in reality. (I mean, some people might be, but in general I think most of the audience is not like this.)

More importantly, all of this is literal Character Development. In all further episodes, Angel stops acting this way with Husk entirely. And only after he stops acting this way, is when Husk and him start to genuinely get on as friends.

I've seen some people complain that Angel never officially apologised for his actions. And yes, while we don't seen an on screen "I'm sorry for what I did to you", it's very clear that there has been something based off of the very next shot of them:

Even if he hasn't said those exact words, Loser Baby was an entire song about how they understand where each other is coming from, why they act how they do and how they can now change that by leaning on each other for support instead. Loser Baby is, in its own kind of subtle way, an apology between them. Just because we're not spoon fed scenes doesn't mean they didn't happen off screen.

Anyway. You don't have to like the ship. But can we stop trying to find problematic reasons why no one else should like them either and just grow up and say it's personally not your thing?

[sosa2imagines]

Sweet treats and a lesson.

Warnings- Fluff and lots of fluff.

Jack felt like the universe was against him. He found himself in the pillow section of a home goods store watching none other than you hold up pillows, examine them, compare them, and eventually place them back on the shelves. He couldn't help but groan internally at the sight. The last thing he wanted to do on a Saturday morning was go pillow shopping.

But, like any good boyfriend does, he remained by your side, occasionally casting impatient glances toward the exit.

He could be doing so many better things right now, but nope, here he was, watching you agonize over which damn pillow you wanted to sleep on.

So how did he got in this situation?

Well earlier that day, Jack groaned in frustration as he couldn't find the remote for the tenth time. You did tried to tell him, its in his back pocket. He did have a habit of keeping things in his pockets. He turned to you, his face red with anger. “Seriously? How can you be so careless and immature? We can't even watch the movie because you lost the remote again! This is absurd!”

You shook your head, your eyes already welling up with tears. Without saying a word, you quickly grabbed the remote control from Jack's pocket and smacked him on the chest with it. With a mix of sadness and frustration, you stormed off to the bedroom, not wanting to be near Jack right now.

Jack watched you leave, his anger slowly turning into guilt. He knew he had been way too harsh, and his words had clearly hurt you. As he heard the bedroom door close, he let out a soft sigh.

It was at that moment he realized he screwed up. He had done a number of stupid things in his life, but this had to be one of the worst. He had made you cry, all because he couldn't find his damn remote. He couldn't even blame it on the alcohol, because he was completely sober. He just had to let his anger get the better of him, and now he had you, tear-stained cheeks and all.

Jack reluctantly followed behind you as you searched the store for more pillows. He had offered to take you out shopping as an apology for his behavior earlier, but he hadn't expected that you'd want to go shopping for pillows.

He didn't quite understand the appeal of spending money on pillows, especially when there were plenty at home. However, he wanted to make things right, so he swallowed his protest and tried to keep his boredom to himself.

Jack found himself increasingly bored as you continued browsing through different pillows. His mind wandered to find a way to entertain himself. As he walked down the aisle, he noticed a young kid holding a lollipop.

A mischievous glint appeared in Jack's eyes as he realized how much he wanted a lollipop right now. Without hesitation, he stealthily reached out, skillfully swiping the lollipop right from the child's grasp. Jack quickly unwrapped it and popped the lollipop into his mouth, savoring the sweet treat.

“You just couldn't help yourself, could you?” you said, raising an eyebrow. Jack nearly jumped out of his skin as you suddenly spoke up, startling him from behind. He turned to find you standing there, an amused smile on your face.

Jack sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit guilty but still caught up in the rush of his petty theft. “Uh...I guess not...” he admitted, trying to play it off casually.

You couldn't help but shake your head with an amused smile. Instead of getting angry, you found it oddly endearing. After quickly grabbing a pack of new lollipops from nearby, you walked over to the kid who had briefly lost their lollipop, gently handing them another one with a soft smile.

You returned your attention to Jack, who was nonchalantly enjoying his ill-gotten treat. “Next time, steal something your own size!” you teased with a playful smirk.

Jack followed you as you left the pillow store, his surprise evident in his eyes. He had assumed you were genuinely interested in picking out pillows, but as he realized that you had been purposefully wasting time, he couldn't help but admire your cunning play. You hadn't shown any annoyance, but he understood your subtle lesson perfectly.

With a chuckle, he leaned against the wall of the store and playfully asked, “Did you really drag me shopping for pillows just to teach me a lesson?”

You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe a little,” you admitted with a sly smile, enjoying the realization dawning on his face. “But hey, it did the job, didn't it? Next time, remember to be more considerate, and I won't have to use such tactics.” you teased, enjoying the playful banter between you.

A mischievous smirk spread across Jack's face as he playfully smacked your butt, causing you to yelp in surprise. “But I'm still taking you shopping, baby girl.” he replied with a chuckle, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth banter between you.

His playful spirit was what made you fall in love with him in the first place, and you couldn't help but shake your head with a smile, appreciating his light-hearted demeanor.

Jack confidently grabbed your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as you both navigated through the crowded market. The vibrant colors and lively atmosphere surrounded you, yet all you could focus on was the warmth of his palm against yours. He guided you through the winding alleys, occasionally pointing out interesting stores or stalls, his voice barely audible above the commotion.

“Baby girl, what's on your wish list this year?” Jack asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

You smiled, your cheeks flushing. “Just to be with you.”

Jack's face softened, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You're the best gift I could ever ask for.”

As you wandered through the vendors, Jack insisted on trying every sample, from hot cocoa to sugary treats. His childlike wonder was infectious, making you laugh and join in on the fun.

At a quaint jewellery stall, Jack's eyes landed on a delicate silver necklace adorned with a tiny snowflake. “This one's yours!” he said, his voice filled with conviction.

You gasped as he fastened the necklace around your neck. “Jack, it's beautiful!”

“Not more than you, my baby girl...” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, making you shiver.

Then you both went to a bookstore, while browsing through, Jack snatched a romance novel, pretending to read aloud in a dramatic voice. You blushed, giggling at his silly impressions.

As you both strolled past a lingerie store, its window display showcasing delicate silks and laces. Jack's eyes twinkled mischievously as he slowed down.

“Baby girl, looks like we found the perfect place for shopping...” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Jack O'Malley, behave!”

He chuckled, pulling you close. “Can't help it. You make me think naughty thoughts.”

“You are a level four naughty!” You exclaimed trying hard not to smile but failing.

“A level four naughty huh? My thoughts are going wild.” Jack grins, wiggling his eyebrow.

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Save those thoughts for later.”

Jack grinned, releasing you from his grasp. “Deal.”

Next, Jack dragged you to a nearby ice skating rink, holding your hands as you glided across the frozen pond. The twinkling lights and joyful laughter created a whimsical atmosphere.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow, Jack pulled you close. “You know what I love most about sunset?”

“What's that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“The way the whole world feels like a fairy tale…” Jack said, his eyes locked onto yours. “And being with you makes every day feel like a dream come true.”

You smiled, feeling your heart swell. “You're the magic that makes my life special, Jack.”

As the stars began to twinkle above, Jack led you to a cozy café, where hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies awaited.

Jack sat across from you in the cozy café, sipping his coffee and enjoying the treats you both had ordered. He held your hand across the table, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and sincerity. After a moment of silence, he spoke up, his voice soft and sincere.

“I need to say it again,” he began, his thumb gently caressing your hand. “I'm truly sorry for how I treated you earlier. My words were thoughtless, and I understand if you're still upset with me.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. “I know I have a lot of flaws, and I can't promise I'll be perfect, But I want you to know that I'm trying. I care about you, I love you so much baby girl and I hate knowing I've hurt you. I hope you can forgive me for being such a jerk.”

You looked at him for a silent moment, watching the sincerity in his eyes. His confession and remorse stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within you, but deep down, you knew he was genuinely sorry. Finally, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a soft smile gracing your lips.

“I forgive you,” you said, your voice soft yet firm. “Just promise me you'll try to control that temper and think before you speak next time.”

A wave of relief washed over him as he heard those words, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. He nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I promise,” he replied. “I'll do my best to keep my temper in check and think about what I say before I say it. I don't want to lose what we have because of my foolishness.”

He leaned a little closer, his eyes searching yours. “You mean a lot to me,” he confessed, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I don't want to mess this up. I never want to hurt you again.”

You looked into his eyes, a mixture of affection and trust swirling within you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you pulled him closer, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck.

“I trust you,” you whispered, a hint of vulnerability in your voice. “And I want you to know that.” Without another word, you lifted your chin and pulled him in for a gentle, yet passionate kiss.

Jack's eyes widened momentarily, but then they fluttered shut as your lips met his. His arms encircled your waist as he responded to the kiss, his body pressing gently against yours. The world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the sensation of your lips together, conveying a mixture of forgiveness, love, and a newfound understanding.

In that moment, you knew that every day with Jack O'Malley would be filled with laughter, adventure, and love.

Taglist- @rogerbarnesss @mercurial-chuckles @thezombieprostitute @caplanbuckybarnes @zuri-767-666

@caplanreblogsfics @iwudbutnah @nekoannie-chan @differenttyphoonwerewolf @winterslove1917

@redbloodedgurl @geeky-politics-46 @pono-pura-vida @lovely-geek

[enviedear]

hey Olivia talk about Jason and love letters pls

i can never say no to you, not like i'd say no to rambling about jason lmao!! link here to what inspired this <3

swing by my askbox 🧸ྀི

basically, i think believe that jason would be not only the best at writing love letters but also the most genuine about it. to him, they come from a place of utter devotion. in my hc, i think he'd just really struggle with getting his words out. he hates the way they sound, that they never fully convey what he means, that he stops himself more than he allows himself to speak, and mostly, he cannot handle the pressure of a time constraint. even if someone were to give him all the time in the world to open up, his chest would still get tight and his throat would feel scratchy and raw. jason todd is a victim of analysis paralysis there i said it.

no—he NEEDS another outlet, another form of communication. so he writes. he always loved reading, annotating in the margins—now he does it to his own words. At first, he doesn't even count what he writes as love letters. he's not waxing poetry, he's just explaining his fucked up perspective because you deserve to know. you deserve to be privy to whatever's going on in his head. he fails (for a while) to understand that is love, the very crux of it. the devotion to spend his free time explaining what his mouth refuses to say is love in its purest form.

his words are sweet too, no matter what he's writing. he knows his audience, you. his letters always start the same, with the salutation of 'sweetheart' and an "i love you." sometimes, all that's written is a long run-on about how he feels, how overwhelmed he is. other times, it's reminders of how much you mean to him, how happy you make him. and of course, quotes.

i am a firm believer that jason todd quotes his favorite books (modern and classic) so you better assume he's throwing in quotes that remind him of you. things like "what does money matter? love is more than money." from dorian grey after you had confessed to feeling bad about him spending money on you, or "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." from emma after an argument rooted in his apprehension for sharing, and "I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes." makes a common appearance. you're unsure as to why he quotes shakespeare so much, especially that line—but he's not. he knows it's the truest cohesion of words he could possibly find to explain to you just how crucial you are to him. detrimental even.

but it's not always super intense—a lot of the times it's simple letters. letters hung up on the fridge, on the dryer, in your car, even scattered little love notes in your purse/wallet. things like, "washed your clothes. you really need new leggings, i put money on the counter." / "changed your oil. remind me again in six months. i love you." / "missed you this morning. i'm coming home with dinner, your favorite. i love you."

where other men fail to find a form of communication that works for them, jason todd exceeds. besides, he's seen death once and he's not meeting it again without you knowing just how much he absolutely adores you. if he can't be here forever to give you the love he's practically overflowing with, at least the letters can outlive him. he'd like to be remembered that way—just by his saccharine sentiments for you

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 @ 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 (𝐦𝐞)

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Hello!!! If it’s okay may I request some hcs of Sol n Geo (separate) comforting their partner after the partner got off the phone after arguing with their parents and the convo made them cry? Sorry ESL so I hope things make sense ORZ

have a good day ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

A Pillar for your Palace (Sol + Geo x MC/Reader - Post-fight with Parents)

Sweetheart, genuinely, I hope you feel better after that incident (this isn't me pitying you btw).

And have a wonderful day as well love <33

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were pissed…no. Pissed didn’t cut it; you were wrath itself. You were ornery, annoyed, frustrated, upset…so much so, that you threw your phone into the wall, loudly cursing as you did so.

You balled your hands into fists, your lips quivering from the cathartic release. You’re fucking exhausted. Of everything. You hated how fucking riled up you got over them; how furious you were over your own flesh and blood, over your parents themselves.

You sank to the cold tiled floor of your kitchen, your eyes resting on the cracked glass of your phone and the dent that now remained in its side from the sheer brutality of the impact the wall had on it.

You felt hot tears pelt your thighs as you sniffled. 

“MC? MC, what happened?!”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sol would immediately hug you and wipe your tears with his hands. Hell he might even start crying too. 

He wouldn’t even have to guess why you were crying; it wasn’t like he’d never had parental issues himself, and he probably figured out you had familial issues if you hadn’t told him prior. (He totally wasn’t eavesdropping on your convo with them nooooo).

Depending on the argument you had, Sol’s ‘Comfort Intensity’ would vary. If the argument relates to studying or school, he’d remind you of how smart he knows you are, how capable and talented you were (these aren’t empty words by the way, you all are definitely gifted in some way, especially the other people in this fandom). If it relates to your career, he’s gonna tell them to fuck themselves (but politely????? Idk, he doesn’t care that much about them tbh, he loves you at the end of the day).

If it was something more personal, such as them asking for money or them trying to get a favour from you, he’d firmly remind you you have boundaries, his grip a bit tighter on you. After all, how dare they try to siphon anything from you?

This man, no matter what the hell happened, would take your side 110%, mans wouldn’t even hesitate.

Would be silently livid at your parents, especially if he found out (either from you directly or his less-than-legal recon missions) that they were neglectful or God-forbid abusive.

Would contemplate threatening them to back off from you, especially if he knows they dislike him. Would be pleased that you trust him as much as he loves you.

Comfort-wise, Sol’d just try to take your mind off of it, whether through really kinky sex watching a movie, going out to get take-away, or some other form of activity that he knows you’ll enjoy.

He’d also buy you a new phone, or get your old one repaired if it's possible.

Essentially serves as a very emotionally and physically sanctuary for you, you know you can tell him anything and he’ll support you. <33

Geo would just be awkwardly offering you a hug (guys he’s trying okay), would be a bit irked as to why you shattered your phone against the wall.

If you tell him you fought with your parents, he’d be a bit more understanding about the incident, after all, he does have massive big dick energy daddy issues.

Would ask what the fight was even about (he probably overheard but still wants to get as much info as possible, he’s more logical with determining the best approach to comforting you).

If it relates to school, he’s going to ask for more details, so if needed he can offer aid with anything, or just figure out how much of the shit they say is somewhat reasonable, if at all.

Will be silently disgusted if he finds out they’re harassing you over small things, or nitpicking at your career choice or anything related to your future. It’s your life, he’ll just say it point-blank.

If they are annoyed with the fact they deem him as a ‘bad match’ for you, he’s gonna pull the biggest eye-roll known to man. May or may not get a bit affected by the comment deep down though.

If they’re trying to get your money, or get you to give them something and threatening/guilt-tripping you, he’ll probably nonchalantly call them later (maybe with permission, maybe not, depending how annoyed he is at them) and coldly tell them to back off from you.

Will take your side, you’re one of the handful of people whom he genuinely appreciates and cares about.

When it comes to comfort, I feel Geo was raised with a suck-it-up mentality, so he’ll be slightly less experienced in the art of emotional support. 

He’ll probably spend money on you, or let you buy yourself what you want, maybe will even let you hug him.

Might even pamper you, if he likes you enough (omg Geo doing your makeup and hair when?!)

Will be a teensy bit upset if you’re still sad about it (not at you, at your parents oml), will buy a fake plant to make you feel better.

Alternatively that’s when you both decide to get a #bonsaibaby, along with a new phone for you (rest in pieces old phone, you will be missed).

Will be slightly more attentive to you for a while, is the type to cut fruit and just silently leave it next to you when you’re not looking.

He’s trying hard, okay. He’s not exactly the best figure when it comes to words of affirmation, but he is superior at making sure you understand, clear as day, that you’re capable and intelligent; and he isn’t the type to lie about it either, so that helps as well.

Basically a banger s/o, he’ll aid you however he can. <3

[coopswhxre]

Word's Mean Nothin'

Boyd Crowder x (Fem)Reader

Word Count: 3,224

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

Synopsis: Boyd confesses his feelings for you and things get a little heated.

This is my first time writing anything for tumblr, so please be nice XD

It had been three weeks since your sister Ava allowed Boyd Crowder to stay in the attic of the home you both shared. He had kept to himself, spending his days reading the Bible and listening to the radio. Frankly, you preferred it that way; seeing his smug face was the last thing you wanted after all the trouble he'd brought upon Ava.

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, you decided to enjoy your coffee on the porch, relishing the crisp air, only to be startled by Boyd sitting on the bench by the door, his expression one of deep thought.

With a sigh, you considered him for a moment before turning to go back inside.

"Y/N," his voice was low as he called out your name, his gaze fixed on the woods beyond your property. "Would you sit with me?"

You paused, your foot hovering over the threshold. "Why should I?"

"Please…" His eyes met yours—wide, hazel, and piercing. To your surprise, they seemed to shimmer with what looked like genuine remorse.

"You've got two minutes, Crowder," you conceded, walking over to take the rocking chair opposite him.

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed defensively as you leaned back. "Well, I ain't got all night, Boyd."

"I've been thinkin' 'bout these past few weeks, what my daddy did to your sister… to you." He gestured towards your shoulder, where a bullet from his father, Bo, had grazed you, sending a chill of remembered pain through you. "I know I can't undo what happened or clear away the bad blood between us, but I need you to know, I'm sorry."

Your gaze hardened, not quite ready to accept his apology, yet you couldn't help but notice the earnestness in his tone—something you hadn't expected from Boyd Crowder. The silence lingered for a moment, punctuated only by the distant calls of evening birds and the soft creak of the rocking chair beneath you.

"Why now, Boyd?" you finally asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "What's changed?"

Boyd sighed, looking down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. "I've had a lot of time to think, up there in that attic. 'Bout my life, the choices I've made, the folks I've hurt." He paused, his voice faltering slightly. "I've realized if I keep goin' down this path, I'll end up all alone. I don't want that. Not anymore."

You watched him, trying to decipher if this was another one of his manipulations. Boyd was known for his silver tongue, and trust was not something easily given, especially to a man like him. Yet, there was something different this time, a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"And what 'bout Ava?" you pressed, the concern for your sister surfacing. "What assurances do I have that you won’t put her—or me—in danger again?"

Boyd nodded, understanding the weight of your question. "I can't give you guarantees, Y/N. All I can offer is my word to do better. I wanna protect Ava, not cause her more pain. I hope, in time, you'll see that."

You remained silent, mulling over his words. The evening chill began to seep through your clothes, reminding you of the fading light.

"Time'll tell, Boyd," you finally said, standing up from the rocking chair. "Words mean nothin' without action. You better prove yourself, or you're out."

As you lay in bed that night, the conversation with Boyd replayed endlessly in your mind. His voice, earnest and somber, seemed genuinely filled with regret—a side of him you hadn't seen before. But deep down, you suspected Ava was his true motivation. Boyd had always harbored a soft spot for her, even during her marriage to his brother.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the radio playing upstairs, its volume carrying through the quiet house. With a muttered curse, you threw off the covers and made your way to the attic to tell Boyd to turn it down.

Reaching the attic door, you knocked sharply before entering. The sight that greeted you made you gasp—Boyd, just out of the shower, clad only in a towel around his waist, his skin damp and his hair slicked back. For a moment, you faltered, taken aback by the stark contrast between his usual rugged demeanor and the vulnerability he now displayed.

"Boyd, the music—it’s too loud," you said, striving to keep your voice steady despite the distraction.

"Oh, sorry bout that," Boyd replied, his tone apologetic as he reached for the radio, turning it down immediately. "Didn’t realize it was carrying through the house."

You nodded, your eyes inadvertently scanning the sparse, dimly lit attic. It was clear he lived simply here, with just a few personal items. The vulnerability of his living situation, combined with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, softened your stance just slightly.

"Thanks," you added, pausing at the doorway. "And Boyd—about earlier… I’m thinking about what you said."

Boyd’s eyes met yours, hopeful yet cautious. "I appreciate that, Y/N. Really, I do."

You were already halfway out the door when Boyd's voice halted your steps. "Wait, Y/N," he called, his tone hesitant yet earnest. You paused, your hand on the door frame, and turned back to face him.

"I just… If you've got a minute, I'd like to say a bit more," he said, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance. The soft light from the single bulb overhead cast shadows that played across his features.

You sighed, your initial irritation fading into a cautious curiosity. "Alright, Boyd. What is it?" you asked, leaning against the door frame.

He took a deep breath, searching for his words - eyes searching the dimly lit attic before settling back on you. The air was thick with tension, his usual confident demeanor replaced by something more tentative. "I know this ain't the time or place, and maybe it's not my place to say, but…" His voice trailed off as he took a cautious step closer, his expression earnest.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms defensively. "Boyd, if you've got something to say, just say it."

He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on you. "It's just… these past weeks, being here, seeing how you handle everything… it’s made me realize a lot more than just my mistakes." He paused, swallowing hard. "I’ve come to… care for you, Y/N. More than I should, given everything."

The confession hung between you, startling in its sincerity. Boyd looked vulnerable, almost afraid of how you might respond. "I know I don't deserve a chance, not with my history… but if you'd ever think it possible—"

"Boyd, I—" You started, your mind racing with conflicting emotions.

He stepped forward, closing the gap slightly, his presence overwhelming. "I know it's a lot to ask. I don't even know what I’m asking for. Just… don’t shut me out. Please."

The intensity in his eyes, the raw honesty in his voice, it broke through your defenses in a way you hadn't anticipated. You were about to speak, to chastise him or perhaps to dismiss his words, when impulsively, Boyd leaned in, his hesitation melting away in the moment.

His lips met yours, and for a brief second, the world seemed to stop. The kiss was tentative at first, questioning, as if he was still seeking permission. But as you stood frozen, surprised by your own stillness, something shifted. Maybe it was the isolation of the attic, the soft hum of the now-quiet radio, or the genuine remorse he had shown earlier; whatever it was, you found yourself not pulling away.

The kiss deepened slightly, Boyd's lips firm yet cautious. His hand, tentative at first, found its way to the small of your back, pulling you slightly closer. The warmth of his body contrasted sharply with the cool air of the attic, and you could feel the dampness of his hair, the remnants of his shower, as his fingers gently brushed against your cheek.

The softness of the moment, the gentle pressure of his lips against yours, was disarming. It wasn't rushed or fraught with the intensity of passion often depicted in stories; rather, it was a slow burn, a flicker of something new.

As Boyd finally pulled away, the slight catch in his breath was audible in the quiet of the attic. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or rejection. What he found instead was confusion.

Boyd's gaze was unwavering, his brow furrowed slightly as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

"I… I'm sorry if that was too much," he whispered. "I just needed you to know, to really know, how I feel."

The weight of his confession, the unexpected intimacy of the kiss, left you silent for a moment. You were still processing, still trying to align this new Boyd with the one you had known, always calculating, always a step ahead.

His eyes held yours, searching for a sign of how you might react next. The tension was palpable, a mix of anticipation and fear. You took a moment, your own confusion swirling with the unexpected emotions stirred by the kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, you made your decision. Stepping forward, closing the gap Boyd had just created, you reached up to touch his face gently, the touch sent a shiver down your spine. Boyd looked at you, his eyes wide.

Without saying a word, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his again. This time, there was a certainty in your movement, a decision made. Boyd responded almost immediately, his hands moving to your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The kiss deepened, and you invited him further, parting your lips.

Boyd's response was immediate and intense. His tongue met yours, exploring softly, cautiously at first, then with growing confidence as you responded in kind. His fingers pressed into your waist, pulling you flush against his warm chest. The heat from his body enveloped you.

The world outside seemed to fade away as the kiss grew more passionate. You could feel Boyd's heart racing just as fast as yours, his breath mingling with yours, creating a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and terrifying. The soft hum of the radio now seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the sound of your joint breathing and the occasional creak of the attic floor beneath you.

As the kiss finally broke, you both stood there, forehead against forehead, trying to catch your breath. Boyd's hands remained on your waist, not willing to let go just yet, and you made no move to step back.

Boyd finally spoke, his voice husky and low. "Y/N, I—"

"Shh," you whispered, placing a finger on his lips. "Don't. We don’t need words right now."

As the tension in the room shifted from apprehensive to charged, you took Boyd's hand. The air in the attic felt thick, almost tangible with the turn of emotions. Leading him to his bed, you were acutely aware of every sound—the slight creak of the floorboards, the distant call of the night, and the rustle of the towel as it shifted against Boyd's form.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The soft light from the single bulb cast shadows that danced on the walls, adding to the intimacy of the moment. You could see the outline of Boyd's form under the towel, the tension in his body, and the undeniable evidence of his desire.

Boyd stood before you, his breathing deep and uneven.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching the edge of the towel at his waist. Your eyes met, and there was a silent question in yours, a pause as you gave him a moment to decide.

Boyd's hand covered yours, his grip firm yet gentle. He nodded slightly, a wordless agreement, a surrender to the moment and to whatever it might bring. You pulled gently, and the towel fell away, leaving Boyd exposed.

You let out a soft gasp, your eyes widening in both surprise and desire as you took in the sight of him. His swollen tip, coated in glistening precum, called out to you and you couldn't resist. Your mouth watered with anticipation as you enveloped his length with your lips, savoring the velvety texture against your tongue. He groaned and grasped tightly onto your hair as he pushed himself deeper into your mouth, never taking his piercing gaze off of yours.

You moaned as his hand guided your movements, taking him in deeper and savoring the feeling of being completely filled by him. The sound of your moans vibrating around him was like a symphony to his ears until he suddenly let go, creating a soft popping noise as your lips released his member.

"Damn, Y/N," he gasped. "If you keep that up, I won't be able to return the favor." He laughed hoarsely, that toothy grin of his shining in the dim light before his expression turned dark. "Lie back, baby." The intense heat between your legs threatened to consume you at his words, and you couldn't help but melt at the way the word ‘baby’ rolled off his tongue.

You followed his instructions, shifting towards the head of the bed and easing yourself onto the soft pillows. He moved over you, taking in the sight of your body spread out beneath him, his arousal pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts.

His lips trailed down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin as he pressed himself against your thigh. You let out a gasp as he tugged at the neckline of your singlet, exposing one of your erect nipples. His tongue darted out to flick at the sensitive peak before taking it into his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling.

"Boyd…" you moaned, overwhelmed. "please, more."

Sitting up on his knees between your open legs, Boyd’s fingers gripped the waistline of your shorts, slowly pulling them down. Your heart raced as you felt the cool air against your bare skin. He tossed you shorts aside, eyes filled with desire, as he took in the sight of your glistening cunt.

You clenched your hands in the sheets, your breath hitched as you eagerly awaited his next move. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Boyd leaned in closer, his face just above your quivering core. You felt his breath against your most sensitive spot, making you squirm. His finger traced your outer lips, teasing the entrance of your heat.

And then, finally, he slipped a finger inside, pushing gently against your tight walls. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body that left you gasping for breath.

"Fuck, Y/N," His voice a mix of lust and awe. "You're so tight."

His fingers delved deeper into your core, twisting and curling to ignite a firestorm of sensations that sent shockwaves through your entire body. Your hips eagerly moved in rhythm with his movements, yearning for the release that felt so tantalizingly close.

As he worked his fingers, his lips met yours in a fiery kiss. His tongue matched the rhythm of his skilled digits inside of you.

Just when you thought you couldn't handle any more pleasure, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you longing for more.

He spat into his hand and slicked it over his pulsing member, preparing himself for you.

Your heart raced as he slowly positioned himself at your entrance, pausing to meet your eyes.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body begging for the connection that was moments away. And then, with a single, powerful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely.

A gasp escaped your lips, and a wave of pleasure washed over you as you held onto him tightly. Your inner muscles contracted around his length, drawing him in deeper.

Boyd let out a loud grunt, his teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut as he adjusted to the tightness of your walls. His hands fisted the sheet on either side of your head as he paused for a moment, collecting himself.

Slowly, he began to move, setting a rhythm that sent jolts of pleasure coursing through both of you. You met his thrusts eagerly, your hips moving in tandem with his.

Your breaths became heavier, your bodies glistening with perspiration as the room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the occasional curse from Boyd.

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging deeply into his skin as you pulled him closer. The friction was exquisite, and you could feel the aching need building within you.

Boyd's eyes were locked onto yours, his face a mask of raw emotion. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fervent kiss as he thrust deeper. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his every move.

Your climax was building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You could feel it, the tightening coil of pleasure, threatening to unravel. You dug your nails into his back, arching your hips to meet his. The sensation was too much, and you cried out as you peaked, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

Boyd watched you in awe as he continued to thrust into you. The sight of you in the throes of orgasm was more than he could take, and he quickly joined you, his body shuddering as he released deep within you, ropes of hot cum painting your walls white.

Your legs shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm as you melted into the bed. Boyd's weight rested on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he caught his breath.

You ran your hands through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. "That was…" you began, the words barely escaping your lips.

“Somethin’.” Boyd finished your sentence, his words muffled against your skin when a knock at the door made you both jump.

Boyd quickly rolled off you, grabbing the towel from the floor and wrapping it around his waist. You straightened yourself on the bed, pulling the sheets around you, heart still pounding.

Dear god, you'd forgotten all about your sister downstairs!

Boyd cracked open the door just enough to peek through, and Ava's voice floated in, laced with a hint of amusement. "Y'all planning on making that racket all night? Some of us have a busy day tomorrow," she teased, her tone light but carrying a knowing edge.

A sheepish grin spread across Boyd’s features. "Sorry, Ava," he called back through the slightly ajar door, his voice a mix of embarrassment and mirth. "We'll keep it down."

"Better," Ava replied, her voice now softened with laughter. "Just remember, thin walls in this old house."

[flagellant]

this might seem dumb and i promise im being genuine here. im just kind of fucking stupid and i would appreciate a little reassurance if you have the time

am i a bad person for not being able to reclaim queer?

i have a lot of trauma with the word and people using it for me without my consent is really triggering. my abusers used it and other words as slurs while they were hurting me. ive been trying really hard to get over it, i promise, but when it's used against me i still like... have panic attacks and flashbacks. other people using it for themselves doesn't do that to me, it's just when it's used toward me.

does not being comfortable with it being used on me make me a TERF? in the past people have taken "please don't call me queer" as "nobody should ever use that word" and even though im trans, theyve told me it's TERFy not to use it? i absolutely support other people reclaiming it and i really am trying to get over myself, but the panic attacks keep happening and now i'm paranoid that im a bad person for not being able to use it

I think the biggest frustration I have with this whole thing is that a narrative has been created where people would tell you yes, Anon, that you are a TERF and so on. And that's just not the case.

Even beyond the fact that words mean things and TERF doesn't just mean "transphobia on tumblr", the fact is that there are always going to be people whose experiences with a word will never be able to be reconciled. I've said throughout this whole thing: Every word we have ever had for ourselves is a slur, because they have all, always, been used as slurs against us.

And what I mean with that is not just "So fighting against queer as a term is therefore transphobic for this and other reasons".

What I also mean is "We need to be aware that there will never be a perfect word. There will never be a word which has been harmless. There is no point in trying to invent new terminologies to escape ongoing oppression, because those terminologies will just be used against us in the same way all others are."

Anon, you aren't a bad person for having traumatic experiences with being called a slur. The idea of that is ridiculous, and I'm as sorry you've been made to feel that way as I am angry at the people who said that to you. Barely better than your traumatizers if at all, all of them.

But I want you to also hear what I am telling you. You have faced experiences which were traumatic for you. This word is one which is a weapon that can always be used against you, right now, and it will never miss its mark. Traumas do not exist in a vacuum: you can't let it keep festering in you.

Because it's like I kept saying as well...if you allow your oppressors to have the language that can harm you, they will use it. Queer is a word you can't use for yourself right now. That's okay. You are not a bad person for that. But traumas can't go untreated. I'd recommend looking into mental health resources for LGBTQ+ people in your area. Therapy works. At its most basic level, therapy would give you the vocabulary you need to express how this is a trauma of yours, and might even be vocabulary which better helps you understand why it remains so harmful for you. I hope for your sake that you can one day make a decision for yourself on this word that isn't being controlled on a traumatic level for you, even if the decision you make is "I still don't like it for me". Hell, especially if that's the decision you make. What matters, Anon, is that you decide what words you want for yourself, and not the people who traumatized you deciding for you.

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part Six)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

As the day progressed, some more wild weather had settled in, but that did not prevent Cillian from going out and picking up a delivery for you, namely some photographs you had developed externally from your recent travels.

Usually, you liked to do these things yourself, in a studio of your own, at least when utilising analog films, but this was not an option right now.  Cillian arrived home earlier than expected, his face still damp from the rain. The wind had picked up outside and the shutters beat against the brickwork of the house as he entered.

"Y/N," he called out, but you didn't answer. You had headphones on and was buried in one of your books.

He set the package down on the kitchen table and walked over to you, gently touching your shoulder. You looked up at him in surprise.

"I got your pictures," he said, pointing towards the table.

Your eyes lit up as you realized what he was referring to.

You pulled off your headphones and placed them next to you.

"Thank you so much for picking them up. You didn't have to," you exclaimed, beaming up at him, genuinely grateful.

"No problem," he replied with a soft smile. 

You jumped up from the couch, making your way over to the kitchen table. You noticed that the package was slightly damp from the rain.

Carefully, you unwrapped the package, revealing an envelope full of developed photographs while Cillian stood behind you expectadly.

"Would you like to see them?" you  asked, glancing back at him.

Cillian's gaze shifted between you and the envelope in your hands. He was curious, but he also didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

"Sure," he said finally, nodding his head. "I mean, unless they are too personal for you to share," he added quickly, remembering that you might not want him to see them.

You smiled at him, understanding what he meant. "I would love for you to see them," you told him, seeing how they weren't just random snaps. These photographs were part of your art and everything you photographed, especially during your last trip to Kenya, had a meaning.  They showed a snapshot of life there, its beauty, its harshness, and everything in between.

You opened the envelope, carefully taking out each photograph, placing them on the counter. The room was silent, the sound of the shutters beating against the brickwork still echoing. It made the whole scenario more magical, making you feel as if you were back in Africa, immersed in all its vastness and incredible beauty.

You picked up the first photograph, a black and white image of a woman carrying a baby on her back. Her face was etched with lines that showed the passing of time, but her eyes held a spark of life and strength.

Cillian leaned over your shoulder to get a better look.

"She's beautiful," he murmured, taking in the woman's stoic expression and the way she was cradling her child with such tenderness.

You smiled, glad that he could appreciate the photo's beauty.

"Yes, I took that picture when I visited a Maasai village," you said, feeling a sense of pride bubbling up inside you.

"Their way of life is so different from ours, but there's so much beauty in their simplicity."

Cillian nodded in agreement, completely captivated by the raw emotion conveyed in the photograph. He pointed to the next picture, which showed a group of children playing in a dirt field with a makeshift soccer ball. "These kids look so happy," he observed, admiration in his voice.

"They were! I spent an entire afternoon with them," you replied, feeling a fondness for those kids coming back.

"They don't have much, but they truly know how to enjoy the simple pleasures. It's quite inspiring."

Your voice trailed off as you went through more pictures, showing mostly people and their raw emotions. Each face told a story, and this was obvious to Cillian who watched you, mesmerized by your passion for photography. It was clear to him that this wasn't just a hobby for you, but a calling. He couldn't help but be impressed by your ability to capture moments, feelings, and the spirit of the places and people you've encountered.

You turned around to look at Cillian, noticing how he seemed lost in thought. " What's on your mind?" you asked him gently, your hand reaching out to touch his arm.

Cillian started and looked at you, his gaze softening as he saw the concern etched on your face. "Nothing, I am just...,"  he stammered, unable to put his feelings into words just yet.

"Just what?" you pressed, sensing that something was bothering him.

He licked his lips nervously, indecision etched on his face. "I think that you have a true gift Y/N. These photographs are  incredible," Cillian finally managed to say, his voice tinged with admiration.

You smiled, warmth spreading through you at the compliment, grateful for his acceptance and encouragement.

As the day went on, you, Cillian and you spent some more time together after, due to the bad weather, he had postponed his plan to catch up with his mate Dermont.  You noticed the easy way Cillian interacted with you and the way he listened intently as you spoke about your photography, understanding and appreciating the way it moved you. He even shared some of his stories from his early filming days, for a bit of nostalgia. 

Yet, despite this familiarity, there still lingered a sense of unspoken tension between the two of you. A pull that neither of you could explain or understand. It was an awkward dance of avoidance and stolen glances every so often.

The day after though, the weather cleared and Cillian went to see his best friend, meeting up with him for pint of Guiness downtown while you stayed at home.

You were still under house arrest and were only permitted to leave the property for an hour each day, during which you had to remain within a five-kilometer radius of where you lived. This was to permit you to exercise and attend to important matters, like shopping for essentials. 

These restrictions were frustrating, and the monitor had caused a rash to appear on your ankle, but you tried to stay positive. At least you weren't in jail.

While Cillian was out, you took the opportunity to call Nadine, asking her to come over but, unfortunately for you, she declined. She had an interview for a new job that day and really couldn't miss it.

As you spoke to Nadine, who appeared somewhat reserved over the phone and when you asked her about what was wrong, she revealed to you that she had heard rumors concerning your arrest. 

"I ran into Kevin at the hostel bar last night and I think it may have been Lucy who got the drugs into your bag,"  Nadine explained.

You frowned, feeling a surge of anger well up inside you. "But why would she do something like that?" you asked, incredulously.

Nadine sighed. "Well, apparently she was pretty pissed about you and Kevin having hooked up," Nadine explained, not condoning your mutual's friend's actions but clearly trying to explain the circumstances.

You scowled, frustration building up inside you at Lucy's pettiness. "But I haven't hooked up with Kevin at all," you hissed, your voice barely controlled. "In fact, most guys repulse me and that most certainly includes him,"  you added with a shiver of disgust.

Nadine remained silent for a minute, as if contemplating her next words carefully. "I know you didn't, but Lucy is pretty impulsive," she finally said, sympathetic. "Not that it makes it right though,"  she quickly added.

"But what am I supposed to do now?" you asked, frustrated. "I almost went to fucking jail because of her," you went on to say. 

Nadine sighed heavily. "Look, Y/N, I don't know, but I should really go now. I have that interview in half an hour,"  Nadine said, her voice gentle and concerned.

"I know, I am sorry," you said, feeling a pang of regret. "I shouldn't be ranting," you went on to say. 

"No, don't be silly. I'm always here for you, that's what friends are for," Nadine replied warmly. "But promise me that you won't do anything stupid," she added , feeling a sense of responsibility towards you.

You sighed heavily. "I won't," you answered, although this was far from the truth seeing how, as soon as Nadine hung up, you checked out Lucy's social media to see where she was at.

According to Instagram, she was still in town and you knew that you had to confront her. You wanted to get your name cleared and you wanted to tell her exactly what you thought of her. You were angry and you wanted her to know that you weren't someone to be messed with.

Thus, you quickly threw on a jacket, grabbed your sister's car keys, and headed out the door. The cold wind hit your face as you stepped outside, but you barely noticed. You were too focused on the task at hand.

As you drove towards the hostel, which was about nine kilometers away, your heart raced with anger. You couldn't believe that she had done something like this to you. You had never done anything to her, yet she had still decided to frame you.

The audacity of it all infuriated you, but you pushed past your rage and focused on the task at hand.

The hostel was crowded with young travelers, but you spotted her easily. She was sitting in the courtyard, sipping on an iced coffee and chatting with a tall blonde girl.

You approached her, feeling a surge of anger building up inside you. "Lucy," you said, your voice cool and controlled.

She looked at you, surprise flashing across her face. "Y/N?

What are you doing here?" she said, looking around nervously.

You ignored her question and cut to the chase. "Why did you plant drugs in my bag?" you demanded, anger tingeing your voice.

Lucy's eyes widened, and she looked at you in shock. "What? No, I didn't," she stammered, trying to deny it.

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on your face. "Don't lie to me, Lucy. I know it was you," you told her sternly , your voice firm and unyielding.

She fidgeted, looking guilty as charged. "Fine. I did it. But I didn't mean for it to go this far," she whispered, finally admitting her wrongdoing.

"What do you mean you didn't mean for it to go this far?" You asked incredulously, not understanding why she would do something like this in the first place.

"I was drunk, and I heard about you hooking up with Kevin earlier that night.  It made me jealous, and in the heat of the moment, wanted you to get in trouble," Lucy confessed, tears streaming down her face.

You stared at her, shocked and angry. "You must be joking! How could you do something so stupid? I could have ended up in jail just because of your drunken fit of jealousy!" you shouted, your voice incredulous.

"I am so sorry Y/N. I even went to see you the morning after, just before you left, but you had already gone. I wanted to warn you and make it all right. I promise," Lucy said, sniffling and rubbing her eyes just as, suddenly, you watched as a police car pulled up into the hostel parking lot, and it was then when you looked down at your ankle, seeing a red light flashing on it.

"Oh fuck," you hissed, realisation dawning on you and, before you had time to act, Lucy got up and ran off while the officers were approaching you.

You stood there, frozen on the spot, with your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"Miss Y/N Y/LN?" one of the officers  called out, approaching you cautiously.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your shaking hands as the figure in uniform stepped closer.

"You are in breach of your  house arrest, Miss," the officer stated calmly, but with an underlying tone of authority.

You nodded dumbly, looking down at the monitor on your ankle. The red light blinked menacingly, betraying your location to the people who held your freedom in their hands.

"I'm sorry, I can explain," you stammered, attempting to reason with the officers in front of you. "I know who did what I got in trouble for and I came here to confront her," you said, quickly reaching for the device on your ankle, scratching your skin beneath.

"Well, ma'am, we will have to take you down to the station and you can call your next of kin and your solicitor when we get there,"  the second officer said, his tone stern but not unkind.

He and the first officer took hold of your arms, guiding you gently but firmly towards the patrol car parked outside the hostel.

As they led you away, you couldn't help but feel a wave of embarrassment sweep over you. What had you gotten yourself into? It was like a bad dream from which you couldn't wake up and, if they actually called your mother while she was on vacation, you knew you would never hear the end of it.

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[thepixelelf]

Oh Baby, You Part 50 - Cherry

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Idly, you watch the digital, red numbers above the elevator go up one by one. You’ve sometimes wondered if Mingyu hates the chairman’s office, considering its spot on the very top floor, and his genuine fear of heights. Then again, the building is an entirely closed space— he’s more of a bungee jumping scaredy cat than an Empire State Building one. 

You look down at the container of cookies you brought. They’re not his favourite, since you didn’t have all the ingredients for that, but you hope they’ll do. Before Mingyu’s complete integration into chairmanship, you used to bake together all the time. You know he’s better than you, (always has been,) but ever since that time you ended up in a baking summer camp together all those years ago, he’s insisted your cookies are the best.

Of course you know he’s being nice, but that’s just another great thing about Mingyu.

You’re wearing a mask over the lower half of your face, and Jeonghan said there’d be no one around to see you. Still, you walk through the halls with your head lowered and only lift it when you come upon Jeonghan’s desk.

He eyes the container. “You sure about this? I’m not even supposed to be going in there right now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say with a smile he can only see in your eyes. “If he’s truly upset, I’ll just leave him the cookies and go. But I promise I’ll try some other time to get you the vacation days you deserve, okay?”

“It’s really not that important…”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you head towards Mingyu’s office. “Whatever you say, Jeonghan.”

You pull on the thick metal handle of the door without knocking, and as soon as you walk in, Mingyu speaks without moving his eyes from his computer screen. “Not right now, Jeonghan. Just tell whoever needs me to—”

“Hey, stranger.”

His face immediately lights up upon seeing you, and you pull down your mask with a smile. Yeah. There’s your best friend.

“Sunshine!” Mingyu pushes himself to standing and quickly rounds his desk to pull you into a hug. “What are you doing here?” He retracts a bit to look at your face in obvious confusion. “I thought you and Jeonghan agreed we shouldn’t meet up here because of… you know.”

You step back and hold out the plastic container of cookies between you. “About Jeonghan…”

Sighing, Mingyu lets you put them in his hands. “Please tell me this isn’t about the whole ‘vacation’ thing… You know I can’t, Sunshine.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just not how things are done.”

“‘How things are done’? Mingyu, you’re the chairman. If there’s anyone who can change the way things are done, it’s you. Especially for someone who’s spent a good third of your life doing his best to help you.” 

He sets the cookies down behind him and takes one of your hands, letting your joined fingers dangle between you as he leans back onto the edge of his desk. “Look, I’d love to give Jeonghan some time off. I really would, but we’re in the middle of a lot right now—”

“You’re always in the middle of something here.”

“—and,” he continues, countering your little dig with a wry smile, “as much as I wish I could give everyone here time off, I’d need time to find a suitable person to fill Jeonghan’s position while he’s gone. That’s where the four months come in.”

You tilt your head, trying to summon those eyes that Mingyu would say he can never refuse. The problem is, you’ve never really been in control of whatever expression it is that he sees. “Surely you could find someone in less time than that.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know if you understand how good Jeonghan is at his job.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Mingyu glances at the door, and you turn to it as well, but nothing happens. “Speaking of,” he says quietly, returning your attention to him. “Where is Orion? With Soonyoung?”

“Actually, he’s at a daycare for a—”

“A daycare? Jeonghan didn’t tell me he arranged anything.”

You blink. “Well that would be because he didn’t. I set it—”

“What? Why?”

Pausing for a moment, you make yourself remember that this is exactly the thing you, Mingyu, and Jeonghan are always worried about. Oftentimes, you the most. Having some stranger spend just enough time with Orion to see his resemblance to Mingyu.

“Orion will be preschool age within this next year, so I thought maybe I’d transition to some in-person classes while he attends. The daycare would be for emergencies, or things like weekend exams, or…”

Or when you don’t want to burden your only friends for the rest of Orion’s younger years. 

Mingyu rounds his desk again and bends over in front of his computer. “What’s the name of this place?”

“Dream Daycare. It’s near—”

“You know that was careless, right? You should’ve asked Jeonghan or I to—”

“I looked into it. I went over like six places before—”

“Jeonghan would’ve—”

“He has enough on his plate—”

“—taken care of—”

“Mingyu!” Your raised voice manages to shut him up, but he only meets your eyes for a second before he goes back to his computer screen, investigating the daycare’s website. “I did the research. They had no idea who I was — not that anyone really does, since Jeonghan’s done such a good job keeping me anonymous thus far — and seeing as the place is mostly run by some sweet old ladies, they probably have no idea who you are, either.”

He sighs out through his nose. “Are they good?”

“What?”

“Good caretakers,” he clarifies, and you see the genuine worry in his eyes now.

Of course. You should’ve known that the revelation Orion’s true identity wasn’t Mingyu’s primary concern; his safety is.

Exhaling, you try to give Mingyu a reassuring smile. “Yes, Mingyu. They’re excellent. I only chose the place I thought was the best, safest, and kindest for him. He’s my son, after all.”

It’s small.

It’s so small, so short that you almost don’t see it, hear it. Almost miss it entirely.

But you’re certain that Mingyu… scoffs before he says, “Is he?”

For more than a few seconds, you’re frozen. Just slightly, your mouth parts, but you can’t seem to find the right words. Did you even hear him right?

“What… What is that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head, still scrolling. “Nothing.”

“No,” you rebut. “No, tell me what you meant by that.”

“It’s really nothing.” Straightening himself up, Mingyu fixes you with an uneasy look. You just stand there, cross your arms, and wait for him to cave. It only takes a few seconds. “It’s just, with you telling everyone…”

You let out an affronted sound. “I did not tell everyone. And for that matter, it wasn’t exactly my choice to tell anyone anything at all.”

“Look, forget it. Just pretend I never—”

“But what does any of that have to do with Orion being my son?”

Mingyu takes in a deep breath, his hand coming up to his tie like he wants to wrench it loose, but he only fidgets with it. He looks away, then meets your eyes again. “With this many people knowing he’s not your son—”

“But he is! He is my son, Mingyu. And I am good at taking care of my son.”

It’s too hot in this room. Mingyu’s shoulders rise and fall with another sigh, and for some reason, you can’t stand the look in his eyes.

“I need a breather.” By the time the words come out, you’re already turning and walking towards the door of his office. “Don’t follow me,” you tell him, only because you know your best friend would.

Jeonghan stands up when you shove the door open and storm past his desk, a mix of concern and shock on his face. You must look as upset as you feel.

“I just need a second,” you say, and so he just watches you as you walk off, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.

You have no clue where you’re going, but you think you had the right idea when you made that excuse to leave Mingyu’s office, so you look around for some sort of outdoor exit. A balcony, or something similar. Eventually, you find a staircase, which leads to what looks like a small terrace of sorts.

Only, when you pull the door open and breath in the cool, fresh air, you turn to the right and see someone leaning against the railing. His distant silhouette isn’t the most familiar, and he’s facing away from you, but considering this place, and the only people you know in it…

“Mr Choi?”

He turns, a white stick poking from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say, apologizing for interrupting what must be his precious alone time. Still, you really don’t want to go back inside yet. “I…” Your feet pull you a couple hesitant steps toward him. “...didn’t know you smoked.”

While his eyes focus in recognition, Seungcheol’s hand rises to pull the stick from his mouth. The motion reveals the head of a bright red, spherical lollipop. 

“Oh. That’s…” You want to say out of character, but you trail off. If you think about it, there isn’t much you know about Choi Seungcheol. “Sorry for assuming. I just wasn’t expecting…”

He says nothing for a little bit, just looking at you as you approach. His eyes seem to study you, and you resist the urge to squirm. When you settle next to him, resting your arms on the railing like he is and keeping your gaze on the cityscape, he finally looks away from you and peers at the lollipop instead.

“...I bought them for him,” he says.

You turn your head, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Who?”

“Your son.”

It’s a weird confession, to be sure, but he can’t know the way those two words affect you in that moment. That’s right. Orion is your son.

“But,” Seungcheol continues, unaware of the reason you needed the fresh air in the first place. He lets out a deprecating huff of a laugh, his head dropping for a second before he faces you again. The lollipop gets brought back up, and he taps it twice against his smiling teeth. “I might’ve gotten myself addicted.”

You can’t help it. You laugh.

Turning again to the skyline, your fold your arms on the railing and drop your chin to rest on them with a sigh. What a beautiful day.

Tap, tap.

You look at your elbow, where Seungcheol pokes a wrapped lollipop. Cherry. Your gaze rises to meet his.

“Something’s wrong,” he says simply, holding the candy out closer to you, silent but insistent.

Maybe he isn’t so unaware after all.

Wordlessly, you take the lollipop with a shy nod and a smile.

You don’t know why, but as soon as you close your mouth around the sweet, artificial cherry flavoured candy, the tears start to form. You hate that it’s now, with one of the very dangerous people to be vulnerable in front of, but you can’t seem to stop the blazing heat in the corners of your eyes. You don’t sob — don’t let yourself — but the tears fall despite your resolve.

It’s irrational, you understand, to be this upset. But it’s hard to believe yourself to be a good parent when you start doubting whether you’re a parent at all.

“Would you…” Seungcheol’s wary voice returns your attention to him. “...like to leave?”

You let out a laugh, embarrassed. He must be uncomfortable. “I probably should.”

As you push yourself off the railing, though, Seungcheol does the same. “Alright,” he says, then takes your hand, and you realize as he leads you back inside and through the building all the way to the ground floor: he’s not wary of you, but for you. “Let’s go, then. Somewhere nicer.”

For some unknown reason, you just swallow down all your trepidation, gently take your hand back, say, “Okay.”

And follow.

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