#but their bad communication Upsets me regardless

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[caparrucia]

Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

[egcdeath]

something old, something new

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?

word count: 7.2k

warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n

author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one. 

As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding. 

It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course. 

You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good. 

Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business. 

You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying. 

If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds. 

Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit. 

“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.

“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.  

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.

“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch. 

“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.

Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him. 

“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”

“This time, they mean it.”

You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined. 

“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”

“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.

“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”

“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”

“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”

“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Marry me.”

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.

“What?”

“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”

You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”

He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.

“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”

You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”

He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”

———-

Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.

The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.

You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of. 

You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted. 

Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union. 

Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.

After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning. 

Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”

The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you. 

Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.

The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings. 

You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless. 

The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.

The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.

You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling. 

Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance. 

By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision? 

You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.  

“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”

“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”

“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”

“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face. 

“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back. 

“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”

“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”

You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation. 

“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased. 

“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.

“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.

“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.

You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”

“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down. 

“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him. 

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird. 

“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”

“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit. 

The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”

“Hopefully,” he remarked in response. 

“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”

“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”

“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”

You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear. 

“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”

You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words. 

“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?

None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of. 

You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely. 

“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first. 

Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet. 

Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.

——

That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached. 

If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch. 

“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief. 

“Well… yeah, basically.”

“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.

“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”

“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.

You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”

“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”

“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified. 

“Legal marriage and sex?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on. 

“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”

“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in. 

“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”

“That sounds pretty committed to me.”

“Not really,” you dismissed.

“Then why are you even together?”

“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”

“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”

“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”

Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off. 

———

The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there. 

Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives. 

You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away. 

While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.  

With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point. 

At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.

You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug. 

“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”

“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”

“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.

“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.

“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.

“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.” 

The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.

“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way. 

The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.

“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.

“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense. 

“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.

“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”

“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.

“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.” 

As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.

“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”

“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel. 

“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”

You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage. 

Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair. 

Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.    

——

Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.

You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events. 

It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather. 

It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship. 

Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand. 

“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink. 

“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.  

He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events. 

You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.  

“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago. 

“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand. 

“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name. 

“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.

“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.  

“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”

“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”

“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”

It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you. 

“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”

Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend? 

“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John. 

“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”

He winked at you and you bit back a gag. 

“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”

Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about. 

Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”

“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder. 

“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”

Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear. 

“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now. 

“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own. 

———

“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference. 

“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis. 

It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.

After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump. 

“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.

“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon. 

You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically.  “I hope you’re not being serious.”

“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.

“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”

You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.

Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”

Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.” 

“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.  

“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.

“That’s more like it.”

You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no. 

Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together. 

[lycandrophile]

local cis man makes a “joke” tiktok that excludes trans men from the phrase “trans people” and mocks the music we make based on a stereotype that’s already been mocked to death, then makes a follow up video directed at the trans men who told him it wasn’t a funny joke or just made them feel shitty where he just doubles down and says the joke was fine because it “wasn’t serious” and that the trans men who didn’t like it are “directing their energy in the wrong place”.

maybe one day cis people will learn that 1) most trans jokes simply are not for them to make, regardless of how funny they think the joke would be, and 2) it’s not for them to decide if the trans people they chose to joke about are allowed to be upset that the joke was made. i honestly wouldn’t have even bothered making a post about this if it was just the original video because a lot of trans people also make jokes like this (which i still don’t think are funny or fair) so he could be forgiven for thinking no one would be upset, but the doubling down really rubs me the wrong way.

like, if we can’t even trust cis people to listen to our feelings on something as silly as a joke tiktok about music, how can we trust them to listen to us when it really counts? you can say it’s not that serious all you want, but when it’s already been demonstrated that you don’t always know how something will actually affect trans men, can you really expect us to trust that you’ll know when it is that serious?

because the message that response sends is this: “i find you fun to laugh at, but i don’t think you’re worth the trouble of caring about your feelings. i would rather enjoy myself and entertain others at your expense.” and is that the kind of message you want to send to anyone, especially a group of people you seemingly interact with enough to be familiar with the jokes made about them in their community? even if it wasn’t anti-transmasculine, it would still just be mean, and it’s certainly not a message that will make us see you as trustworthy when shit gets bad.

[summerlinenss]

Continuing the discussion from Twitter about Taika possibly not being straight, I do hesitate to diagnose strangers with 'queer' because it's usually done by utalising stereotypes (like just him being flamboyant or the latest 'evidence' of him being at a Paris Hilton concert, he seems to go to pretty much everything.)

Without getting too parasocial, the everyone's a bit queer quote from before Thor 4 seemed different though, almost like a soft launch? The dumb backlash was unfortunately familiar to me, as someone who poked her head out of the closet, only to be met with a resounding 'we don't want you'. If he was trying to do that, I dont blame him for not trying since, I certainly havent.

Like i don't think he's a closeted gay, theres no indication that his romantic relationships with women havent been real, but he is from a generation that flat out didnt think bisexuality was a real thing. And the fact he's older and has talked about growing up in a toxic masculinity culture probably has more to with it.

I dunno, i know i shouldnt be think about strangers like this, but some things he's said feel familiar to me

(context for those not on the bird app)

i totally agree with not labelling anyone, and (regardless of how he does identify) taika seems very comfortable in his sexuality, which is all that matters. however, there’s also nothing he’s ever done to make me assume he is straight, if that makes sense?

i definitely took his out magazine interview as a sort of soft launch, as you said. especially since he followed it up with a “coming out” joke tweet. but the amount of vitriol he faced for it was absurd, and it’s still so strange to me how people instantly took his comments in bad faith instead of making the fairly obvious assumption that he was just saying “i consider myself to be part of this community.”

a quote i actually think about a lot is from when taika was on the vanity fair little gold men podcast (around 00:59:45) and got into talking about the stereotypical hyper-masculine culture of growing up in aotearoa, and i feel like it gives some insight into his feelings on this subject:

“I will tell ya, I grew up in a — a pretty macho culture and a very macho country. Where it’s like, you know, you play rugby and, you know, you drink beer, and it’s, like… kind of, life is just set out for you, and… how boring? You know? It’s just, like, you know, it’s like — people are like, ‘Well, I don’t want any immigrants here,’ and then complain that there’s only one type of food to eat. And so, it’s like… you know, that you… want to have an interesting life and you want to be able to — you want to expose yourself to art, and to — you know, to various cultures and various types of people. So for me, growing up, I… I was exposed to that from an early age through, like, on my mother’s side, especially. So it was, like… there were a lot of eccentric and interesting and weird artists and stuff in my life. Um, so it wasn’t, like, a later in life, big shock for me. It was always there. But I think I’ve realized that there are so many ways of being a man, and… and to be… just macho and to just want to be, like… just straight. Just to be, like, so determined to be straight, is… so… sad. And, like — and also is — it just feels so tiring. Wouldn’t it be so tiring just to, like, have to hold on to something that no one cares about? So — so tightly? And it’s, like, look, if you just let go and accept who — then we don’t have to have the conversation. We can talk about more important things. But the idea that we still have to talk about all of this is mad. (…) So, you know, it’s like… I would much rather have the discussions around, you know, more intense, more upsetting things that are happening to humanity than, like, who someone’s in love with.”

[qqueenofhades]

what gets me is whenever any of these people says not to vote, and you ask them what the alternative is, they usually throw some tantrum about how it shouldn't be their job to fix this country and they're not expected to know (or start calling you a neoliberal or a bootlicker lmao) and i just. i don't get that? not voting, especially in the current climate, is a big deal. i don't think it's unreasonable to ask anyone who advocates for that what the alternative is. i'm not expecting you, online leftist, to magically know how to fix everything. i am expecting something from you if you're gonna tell me not to vote, especially when we both know that helps the gop. like, how dare we ask them to defend this big choice they're telling us to make?

their position boils down to helping trump and the republicans but any time you remind them of that they get upset. what is the alternative? what plan do they have? it would be one thing if there was another option that they'd come up with, but they haven't and don't seem interested in doing so. mutual aid and organizing is only going to take us so far and it'll be a hell of a lot easier to do it with biden in office than trump

The whole "it doesn't matter who's president/in charge of the government because mutual aid and organizing is the only valid way to do community engagement" is the leftist version of the Brexit nutcases who, and I swear I am not making this up, argued that it was fine if the UK left the EU trading sphere/single market/customs union with nothing to replace it, because "Britain is a nation of farmers and can grow food in our back gardens!!!!" Yes, because you're so devoted to your stupid ideology that you think the large-scale collapse of society, a major world power, a western democracy, and everything else will have no effect, and you can just do your little Facebook mutual aid groups and happily shout on Twitter at anyone who disagrees with you. Never mind the fact that this would obviously and immediately harm vulnerable people the most and that nobody, not even the Online Leftists themselves, actually wants to live in the Violent Revolution Total Anarchy World they masturbate to. Maybe this makes me a neoliberal corporate shill, but I'd rather that the world got better, instead of worse. I would actually prefer that myself, my friends, my family, my whole life, the whole country, and the rest of the world wasn't sacrificed on the Great Revolution Altar, but I shouldn't worry. We have mutual aid. At least as long as a) you have never said anything the Online Leftists even slightly disagree with, since they're sure as hell not the kind of people I would trust to have my back in any large-scale societal collapse, and b) I guess they'll all be growing food in their back gardens too, rather than using any of those dirty "government" or "society" things to supply their basic needs. We're saved! No need to worry. Bring on the anarchy.

Aside from the fact that Online Leftists, as I have said before, think that moral action begins and ends with posting the Right Opinions on social media at the correct timeframe and any other action or engagement with a flawed system or basic reality is heresy, they don't like being challenged -- i.e. "if we don't vote, then what do we do?" -- because a) it questions their authority as supreme arbiters of morality, and b) it means that there should actually be an action in place of cutting out something so consequential as voting, which likewise clashes with their "everything will be fixed by Magical Thinking" viewpoint. They don't want to be asked what to do in place of voting, or in anything at all; they want to think their correct thoughts and judge anyone who doesn't, regardless of how logically incoherent these things are or the inevitable outcome of those decisions, because nothing bad is ever their fault, or even the Republicans' fault, or anyone else at all except for the Democrats and/or "the West." I mean, yeah, if they're going around to preach the Don't Vote Because It's Actually Evil gospel, it's the bare fucking minimum to expect that they have something to offer in return besides Ye Olde Bolshevik cosplay fantasies. Since they don't, they get tetchy when you point that out.

Also, while I know it's the social media fashion that everything has to be the worst thing ever and we have plenty of the "Biden is also a genocidal fascist but I guess vote for him or something" utterly-minimum-standard posts going around, I will point out why that rhetoric is a) wrong and b) unhelpful. (Not that I expect it will make a single difference to anyone who has to get their internet cred by yelling about how Biden is a fascist, but still.) No, Biden is not a fascist by any logical definition of the word, you would have to do a lot of work to convince me that he is personally genocidal beyond what is demanded of any post-1948 American president who exists in an extremely complicated international sphere with long-standing alliances (such as, yes, with Israel) and indeed not quite a bit more progressive than literally every one of his predecessors, and it makes those actual words useless. If you claim that "Biden and Trump are both genocidal fascists," you are utterly effacing those categories as any kind of critical or useful distinction. You can't argue for any difference, you can't point out policy essentials or nuances, you can't make the most basic of empirical observances or come to a judgment on whether any part of that statement is true, because language has been deliberately stripped of meaning and used to score Cool Internet Leftist points. How can we explain what fascism or genocide actually are and what to do about them, if it's just what you call everyone as a matter of course whenever they disagree with you? You can't. That's the point.

Once again: I strongly disagree with the idea of just giving Israel/Netanyahu a blank check to keep committing atrocities, but I also need to repeatedly point out that Biden isn't doing that. His initial unconditional support of Israel after October 7 (which at the time was the correct response) has shifted to a much more measured and conditional approach where he has muted the overtly pro-Israel statements and started talking about a two-state solution and the need to protect the lives of civilians and trying to keep a lid on what could become a REALLY bad situation with all kinds of war-hungry powers eager to jump into the Middle East and blow it completely to hell. As I have said in my other posts, Trump will not do this. Trump will do the exact opposite. Which is why Netanyahu, who doesn't like having his hands tied precisely in the way Biden is doing, is trying so hard to get Trump back in. This also extends to the people who think that the West/the U.S. is the source of all evil in the world, but they're somehow the only people that can make actual choices or have real agency. Everyone else is just an American puppet; everyone is being lied to or manipulated by America/the West; nobody ever chose anything of their own free will; America/the West could roll in and put a stop to everything bad if they "really wanted to," but choose not to because etc. etc., Evil. As such, this completely fact-free belief is basically the central starting point for Online Leftism, which as I have also said, is now beyond useless and verging on just as deranged and actively dangerous as the fascists, especially since they are 100% willing to enable far-right fascism however and whenever they can because something something, That Will Show Us.

Anyway. Yes. Whew.

[forever-rogue]

For the “I love you” prompts, maybe Eddie x Fem!Reader for overheard? Can lead to fluff or smut :) I was thinking Reader overhears Eddie, but whatever works for you! - @munson-blurbs 💚

AN | Buckle up for some angst! 🥺🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie Munson’s face had been pulled into a deep frown the entire evening. Well - it hadn’t been… until he’d spotted you. It wasn’t you per se, but it was the guy you were with; a tall, dark haired and objectively handsome guy. 

You’d told Eddie you couldn’t hang out with the gang because you had a test to study for. He hadn’t expected a test to come in the form of a man, but then again, he thought bitterly to himself, he wasn’t studying at the local community college with you so perhaps he had no clue. 

Steve clocked his shift in mood immediately and gently nudged Eddie’s side, catching his attention, “what’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to commit an actual murder.”

“Nothing,” he hissed through gritted teeth, shaking his head as he tried to keep his cool, “‘m fine, Steve.”

Steve made a small, noncommittal sound before following Eddie's line of sight and immediately realizing what the problem was. There you were, looking all pretty and happy, and very clearly on a date. On a date that wasn’t with Eddie. Oof. 

“Eddie-”

“It’s fine, Stevie,” he promised but the heartbroken look on his face suggested that he was anything but okay, “she’s entitled to date whoever she wants.”

“She didn’t tell you?” 

“Nope,” he sighed lightly, “but I’m not surprised. Things have been different since…”

Since you’d broken up with Eddie. 

“Hey,” Steve gave Eddie’s shoulder a reassuring little squeeze, “it’ll be okay - things will be better soon. It’s still kinda fresh right now.”

“Doesn’t seem to be affecting her,” they both watched as you laughed, shoulders shaking from your giggles and a big smile on your face. You looked genuinely fine, “she just moved right on.”

“Eddie-”

“It’s whatever,” the curly haired boy insisted but Steve wasn’t buying it in the slightest. But all he could do right now was be there for his friend, however he needed him, “c’mon, the girls wanted to go and get ice cream.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You liked Eric, you really did. He was nice in an authentic way, not overly preppy or anything else and you’d met him in one of your economics classes. He’d asked you out but hadn’t made you uncomfortable or anything else. So you’d said and by now had gone on a few dates with him. And they’d all been lovely and he made you laugh and he made you feel special and he’d only kissed chastely a few times. 

Realistically, he would have been the perfect boyfriend. If only you hadn’t been so hung up on your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend. Eddie. 

It was almost laughable considering you were the one that had broken up with him. But your intentions had been good…you’d thought anyway. And yet it still hurt so much. You could barely stand being around Eddie because of how much you still loved him. Regardless, you figured he’d move on and find someone better, someone that loved him as he should be loved eventually. You would just have to learn to deal.

You paced around the room as you waited for Eric to pick up the phone….half of you was hoping that he wouldn’t pick up at all. But you just wanted to get this over with. Just when you thought it would ring out, he picked up, “hello?”

“Hey,” you were almost whispering as you twirled the cord with your fingers, “it’s just me.”

“Hey just me,” he teased, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Umm,” you paused for a moment, “listen, I want to be straightforward and honest with you. I really like you, but…I- ugh…”

“Can’t date me,” he finished for you and to your surprise he didn’t sound rude or upset, “I get it. I kinda had a feeling.”

“It’s not you,” you cringed at how bad that sounded out loud, “really. I’m just…not over my ex as much as I thought I would be and I don’t want to do that to you either. So…yeah.”

“It’s okay,” he promised kindly, “I appreciate the honesty and to be honest in my own way, it sucks because I think you’re great. Maybe we can still be friends down the road if you want.”

“I think you’re great too,” and you meant it, “thanks for understanding.”

“Anytime. And who knows - maybe things will change between you and your ex.”

“Maybe…”

But you highly doubted Eddie would ever want anything to do with you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Was a house party really going to clear your head and get your mind off of Eddie? You doubted it but according to Robin and Nancy it was worth a try. So here you were, clutching a lukewarm beer in a red plastic cup at the house of some guy you all sort of knew. It wasn’t great, but at least you were thinking about something else…even if that something else was how gross and sweaty the people around you were.

You finished off your beer before finding Robin and grabbing her hand so she would follow you to the kitchen. It was a slight reprieve from the commotion in the other rooms and you let out a long breath. Robin mirrored you before the two of you exchanged a small giggle.

“This is terrible,” you groaned as she nodded, “can we get out of here and just go home and have a movie marathon?”

“Only if there’s pizza,” she suggested as you nodded happily, “then it’s a deal. I’ll go and grab Nance.”

“I’ll get Steve,” you’d spied him going out to the backyard earlier and decided to look for him there. He’d had the right idea of getting out of the packed house anyway. You pushed through the throng of people before squeezing through the sliding glass door and making it outside. You let out a long sigh of relief at the feeling of the cool air on your skin, “Stevie?”

You spotted what you were sure was his figure around the corner, and walked towards him. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that someone was with him. You leaned against the side of the house in an effort to hide yourself as you now hoped he didn’t hear you. You were nosey - it was only natural. 

“C’mon,” you knew that was Steve’s pleading voice; these days it was often reserved for the young kindergarteners he taught, “just one time, what could be so bad. One date won’t hurt.”

“I’m not interested,” Eddie/ That was absolutely Eddie’s voice. You stiffened at the sound but didn’t move to leave, “can we please just drop it?”

“She’s really interested,” you wondered who she was, a shiver of jealousy running down your spine. Although you really had no room or reason to be jealous, “she’s a nice girl - she’s one of the admin assistants at the school office. I kinda talked you up to her and she said she’s love to go out. We could even do something like a double date.”

Ugh, Steve. He was your friend - and Eddie’s - and you knew he only wanted the best for you both. It made sense that he would want Eddie to perk up. It still stung though, kinda, sorta.

“Stevie,” Eddie sighed heavily, “I’m not ready and now’s just…not a good time.”

“It’s been three months, Eds.”

“I know,” you blinked away the tears that had started to prickle up. It was your fault - you were the reason he was still heartbroken, “but it just…still hurts.”

“At some point you’re going to have to let go…”

“I can’t just do that!”  you heard him groan in frustration, “it’s not that easy.”

“Eddie-”

“I’m in love with her,” and oh. That made your heart constrict. You slapped your hand over your mouth in order to keep from making any sounds out loud, “I’m still in love with her, man. I can’t just get over her. I don’t think I ever will. She was everything to me.”

“I know it hurts-”

“But I guess I meant nothing to her.”

And that right there, broke your heart more than anything else. He thought you didn’t love him, that he hadn’t been the best thing to happen to you. Like he was just some guy. He couldn’t have been further from the truth.

“That’s not true,” Steve insisted softly. At least he knew, “she loved you - she still does.”

“She moved on very quickly,” he scoffed, “I might as well be dead to her.”

You couldn’t listen to this any longer, your heart breaking with every word. You wiped away your tears before running back inside and moving to find Robin. You found her with Nancy, the two of them making out in the kitchen.

“I gotta go,” you squeaked, trying to keep from totally falling apart, “‘m gonna go home.”

“What about movie night?” the girls exchanged a nervous glance at your sudden upset appearance, “babe-”

“‘s okay,” you lied, “I just…I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

And you rushed out, ready to go home and cry yourself to sleep. But it was well deserved because you felt like the worst person in the world. 

Then you remembered - you didn’t even have a ride home, “fuck.”

But you weren’t about to go back and ask for a ride. You were too stubborn and foolish to do that. Instead you’d walk back to your apartment. Even if it was a stupid thing to do. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were about halfway home when you heard a car on the side of the road. It was slowing down and you were immediately on edge. You refused to look, hoping that whoever it was would get the hint and leave you alone. But then the car stopped completely, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing.

“What are you doing out here!?” you knew that voice…you just hadn’t expected to hear it again. Not so soon, not like this, “are you insane? It’s dark and late at night.”

“Eddie?” you turned your tearstained face towards him and both of you froze. His expression softened slightly and you sniffled, “what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he rubbed a hand over his tired face, “Robin and Nance said you left the party in a hurry and you were crying. And you didn’t have a ride home. Knowing how stubborn you are, I figured you’d just walk home. So - here we are.”

“But…I don’t understand,” you shook your head softly, wondering if this was some sort of dream your mind was conjuring up in order to make you feel better, “why? Y-you hate me…you should.”

“Because I wanted to make sure you got home safe,” he whispered, a conflicted expression in his eyes, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Eddie…” fuck. He missed the way his name sounded when you spoke it, “I’ll be okay. Just go home and I can walk the rest of the way. I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.”

“Not happening,” he insisted, the boy just as stubborn as you, “get in the van and I’ll take you home.”

You looked at him, long and hard, so many things that you wanted to tell him, “really, it’s okay.”

“It’s not a choice,” he held his hand out towards, motioning you towards him. You were shocked that he was still being so kind and gentle with you. He was way too good for you, “baby.”

You both realized his blunder at the same time and you opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, “I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m really, really sorry.”

“For what?” his voice cracked, on the verge of tears as much as you were.

“For breaking up with you,” you whispered, almost inaudible, “for making you feel like I didn’t love you. For making you feel like you weren’t good even. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. I just…I wanted you to know that. You deserve to know that.”

“You say that, but you still broke up with me,” he shrugged, trying to make it seem like it was no big deal. But you could see right through him, “so. It is what it is.”

“I…I did,” you agreed, “the worst mistake of my life. But that’s neither here nor there. Just I wanted you to know that it wasn’t you at all.”

“Mistake?” Were you completely deluded or was that a bit of hope in this voice? You nodded, “you moved on pretty fast…I saw you with that guy last week. When you said you couldn’t make it to movie night because you were studying.”

“To be fair, we had studied earlier and then decided to go out,” you said meekly, “that was Eric. We went out a few times…but I ended things with him a few days ago. It wasn’t anything that serious.”

“Why?” he swallowed thickly, “you seemed happy.”

“Eric was a nice guy,” you admitted, “but he wasn’t for me. And I told him that I wasn’t ready for anything. Because I, umm, I was still trying to get over you.”

“I don’t get it,” he sighed softly, “you broke up with me. Why? Why did you really do it?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt you!” you blurted out, and he looked at you in surprise, “I…Eddie, I just never wanted to be the one to hold you back from anything. Never wanted you to have to be anyone different than who you were. I feel like we’re so different and I never wanted you to have to change or just, deal with me. Because you deserve everything and I don’t know if I could give that to you. I-I thought that one day you’ll meet someone who deserves you.”

“You are…” he shook his head before taking a step closer to you, “such a stubborn, wonderful little thing. I’ve never once thought of any of that. I love that we’re different - we’re different but still get to be ourselves. I love all the things that you do even if they make sense to me or whatever, because you love them. And I love you. I’ve already met someone that deserves me - you.”

“Eddie-”

“I’ve never once thought you’d hold me back,” he promised, “if anything, I thought it’d be the other way around. We always support each other - that’s never going to change. I love you and I always will.”

“You don’t have to say that-”

“I mean it,” he put his hand on your face and gently stroked his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “the last few months without you have been the worst ever. I just want you. Everything else we can figure out. We’ll always figure it out together.”

“I…you still want me?” you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, “even after I…broke your heart?”

“I will always want you,” he leaned in, face so close to yours. You could just lean in a little and you’d be kissing him. Even if we did break up for a bit. I love you. That’s all that matters.”

“I love you, Eddie,” you let him lean in and kiss you. Softly, more of a gentle brushing of lips than anything. But that was all you needed right now.

“I know,” he grinned, that wonderful magic smile stretching across his features, “c’mon, let me take you home, princess.”

“Okay,” you let him take your hand in his, threading your fingers together, “will you stay?”

“Do you want me to?” he asked, nervous that somehow you might change your mind.

“I do,” you squeeze his hand gently, “I don’t ever want you to leave.”

“I won’t,” he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “I won’t ever leave.”

“Good,” you nodded, throwing your arms tightly around him, “I won’t ever leave either. I love you.”

“I love you too, princess.”

[x0llaz]

Ghosting

Sungchan x Reader

ANGSTTTTTT SOWWY, fluff at the end, hurt comfort, self doubt, burnout, mentions of twilight

WC: 3k

pt 3 of my lil sungchan series. pt 1, pt 2

YN assumed that all was well in her relationship- situationship? Flirtationship?- the two had gone on their second official date, and hung out plenty of times beside then. She thought she and sungchan were doing great, until he stopped answering his texts. 

They had just seen each other before then- he took her out to dinner and bought them milkshakes. He had spent the night in her apartment, as he had grown used to doing, and they fell asleep playing video games on her couch. He had left the morning after after giving her a kiss on the cheek and saying ‘Talk to ya’ later, cutie’

The first day, YN assumed it must be he’s away from his phone- he doesn’t have to respond right away, and she didn’t need him to. 

But when another day passed, and then another, YN became skeptical. She began to criticize herself for texting him the usual good morning/good night texts when she got no response. Whe texted him asking if he was alright, but got no response. She asked him if he was going to a party Yunjin had invited her to, but her message was never read. She kept trying, but kept getting nothing. She felt pathetic. 

Eventually the days turned into a week, and still no word from sungchan. It confused her- they had been so close for weeks before, why drop her now? A week turned into two weeks, and YN felt herself lose her will to keep trying. Too many texts left on delivered, too little communication to justify her continuing to text a ghost. 

Had she done something wrong? She wracked her brain for anything she could’ve done to offend him, or make him upset, but couldn’t think of anything. She wondered if maybe he was talking to someone else or… maybe he just wasn’t interested anymore. 

She thought about their times together, their first date that was so perfect she almost thought she dreamed it. Kissing him when he showed up at her door, or when they’d snuggle up on her couch and watch movies they never really paid attention to. It all left her wondering what happened. Why was sungchan suddenly MIA?

She just felt… useless. 

YN decided to go out as a pick-me-up. Yunjin walked at her side, knowing of her struggle with sungchan, and more than willing to help her get her mind off things. Regardless of what was going on in YN’s mind, Yunjin was always a great pick-me-up.

“I mean we could go to a party tonight?” She suggested. 

“You know I hate parties,” YN rolled her eyes. 

“We wouldn’t stay long, plus, it’s a mostly girls party. It’s kind of exclusive,” Yunjin wriggled her eyebrows. 

“I’ll let you know if I want to go,” YN replied, her arms locked with Yunjin. 

“Well we gotta do something to get your mind off of sungchan,” 

“Pffft, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. I’m fine, I promise,”

“It certainly hasn’t seemed like it.” Yunjin watched YN tilt her head to the side. “You seriously haven’t realized you’ve been mentioning him non stop for days?”

YN paused for a moment. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” she mumbled. 

“Oh, it’s bad bad. You can’t stop talking about it.”

YN looked down, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, now feeling too exposed for how she had been really feeling.

Yunjin paused her steps, looking over to her friend. “Oh, no, don't apologize! It’s okay, I understand why,”

“I just feel bad, I really didn’t realize how much it was on my mind,” YN explained, staring at the pavement below her. 

“It’s okay, really,” Yunjin assured her. “It just makes me sad seeing you so sad over a man,” She shrugged, squeezing YN’s arm reassuringly.

“I really liked him though… and I thought…” She trailed off, sighing and shaking her head. 

“And that’s normal. It’s okay to be sad about stuff like this.” Yunjin told her. “Now perk up, cutie, We’ve got a weekend to waste, and a man to forget about.” 

The Two walked around the market, looking at handmade goods, and fresh pick fruits and veggies. For a while, YN began to let her mind wander from Sungchan. She enjoyed her time with Yunjin, joking around and talking about drama that had been going on in recent weeks. It was easy to forget about things when she was with Yunjin, it was easy to forget all her sorrows. 

They heard something from the distance, and perked up once more when they realized there was someone calling their names. 

“Is that them? Yunjin? Yunjin!” someone shouted from the distance, weaving through the crowd. “It is them!” He called, tugging someone behind them. “YN, Yunjin!” They recognized shotaro at a distance, smiling and waving at them. YN froze when she saw who was right beside him. 

Jung Sungchan. The man who had been ghosting her for two weeks. 

YN turned to Yunjin, her anxiety clear on her face. “You’ll be okay,” Yunjin whispered, keeping their arms interlocked. 

YN watched as the two of them approached, and almost immediately locked eyes with Sungchan. She stood there staring at him before tearing her gaze away and looking at the ground. WHen she looked up, Sungchan stood at a closer distance, a smile on his handsome face as he looked at her, holding his hand up in a friendly wave. If he hadn’t been ghosting her for weeks, her heart would’ve melted, she probably would have swooned. But alas, she was in no mood to swoon. 

“Hey guys!” Shotaro greeted cheerfully. “It’s good to see you, we’ve been meaning to hang out,” He nudged sungchan, whose face dropped a bit when YN avoided his gaze. 

“Yeah, it’s good seeing you guys,” His gaze was still fixed on YN, who had her phone pulled out, fingers typing away at something. 

It wasn’t long until Yunjin and Shotaro fell into a comfortable conversation, and Sungchan took a step closer to YN. 

“Hey,” He smiled, his voice soft. 

“Hi.” YN replied shortly. Sungchan took note, shifting his weight a bit. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, slightly concerned. 

“Yeah why?” She lied, folding her arms. 

“You just seem… more closed off.” He thought of their last time together, how close they had been, the stark contrast of this moment compared to then. 

“Well sorry, I’m not sure how to talk to someone who’s been ignoring me for two weeks,” YN glanced at him, voice stern. 

Sungchan furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?” He asked in confusion. 

YN rolled her eyes, not wanting to continue down this path. “Yunjin, I’m gonna head home. I’ll text you about the party,” she said before turning on her heel and walking out of sungchan’s sight. 

“So… why is YN mad at you?” Shotaro asked, taking a bite of his food. 

Sungchan shrugged. “I really don’t know? It kinda confused me.” The look shotaro gave him told him to continue. “She said I’d been ignoring her,”

“Have you been ignoring her?” Shotaro asked, knowing the answer, but wanting Sungchan to hear the truth from himself. 

The hesitancy Sungchan felt made his heart drop a bit, realizing that he had been ignoring her. “I… i didn’t think I was ignoring her,” He pulled out his phone to see the old messages he hadn’t taken the time to look at. “I didn’t really mean to,” 

“Yeah, well, you did,” Shotaro sighed. “When did you last see her?”

“I forget, but it wasn’t that long ago,” sungchan answered. 

“Okay… and when was the last time you texted her? When was the last time she texted?”

“She texted me a couple days ago…” Sungchan put his phone down, taking a few bites of his food, as if he could avoid talking if he had his mouth full. 

“Sunghcan,” Shotaro looked at him with a disbelieving expression.

“This food is really good,” Sungchan didn’t meet his gaze, stuffing his face with more food.

“Seriously, when was the last time you hung out?” Shotaro asked once more. 

“I don’t know, it couldn’t have been too far back,” sungchan shrugged. “I think… two weeks?”

“Two weeks????”

Truth be told, Sungchan had no intentions of ghosting YN. Hell, he barely realized he had been. 

When Sungchan got focused on something, it was almost like everything in the world stopped existing. That something happened to shift from YN, to his upcoming exam. It was the majority of his quarter grade, and in his efforts to study, he had unintentionally ignored nearly everything around him. Shotaro had begged him to go out for an hour or two that day, which was a struggle in itself. 

Needless to say, he had been burnt out, not even realizing it. He barely had been out besides classes, and his social life had taken a pretty big hit. He had been tired, focused so much on passing the quarters exam, that he neglected one of the biggest parts of his life. 

He hadn’t realized until he saw YN, how little time he had spent with her. In his time away, he never had the chance to think about just how much he missed her. Sungchan hadn’t thought much about the girl he liked so much- not because he lost interest, but because he was buckling under the pressure of school. 

Sungchan rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing in his own frustration. “I know, I know,” he looked up at shotaro. “So?”

“So what?” Shotaro asked.

“So what should I do? I messed up,” Sungchan shrugged, looking at shotaro hopefully. 

“Are you stupid?” Shoptaro asked. Before the younger could question his words, he said, “Apologize to her! You can’t get anywhere if you don’t talk to her,” Shotaro told him. “Make it quick before Yunjin gets involved.”

Sungchan Nodded. “Noted.”

When the two of them parted ways, sungchan walked with his hands in his pockets. He walked to his apartment, making a mental list of ways he could apologize, how he could make things up to her. He was never great at things like that, but he knew that he would change it for her.

When YN got home, her mood was brought down even more seeing there was still nothing from sungchan. It Was partially her fault, leaving before he could get a word in, but logic did nothing to brighten her mood. The worst part of the citation was how much it made her get into her own head. 

She began doubting her bond with sungchan, doubting herself. Was she that forgettable that he could go weeks without talking to her and not even realize? 

She sat down on her couch and pulled a pillow over her head, groaning into it as she laid back. In her own house, with nothing to distract her from her own doubts and fear, she felt the tears well in her eyes. It wasn’t her first experience with heart break, or with a failed relationship, but nonetheless, it hurt. She had let herself get used to sungchan, gotten her hopes up with him. Was she stupid to think they’d be more than a situationship? Tears streamed down her face before she could bring her hand up to wipe her face.

She thought back to their first date, and questioned how she ended up here. Crying on her couch because of a guy who wasn’t even her boyfriend. Crying over the guy who took her out for lunch and who she convinced to stay a little longer. Did it mean anything? Was this just how Sungchan was?

She wiped her tears and turned on her side, resting her cheek against her pillow as her phone lit up with texts from Yunjin. 

Jen: you okay???

Jen: you left rlly fast

Jen: Did he do smth???? I can kill him

Jen: should I come over?

She sighed, not wanting to involve Yunjin even more in her boy problems. 

YN: no i’m ok

YN: thanks tho 🙂

YN dropped her phone on the coffee table, closing her eyes and curling into herself. It wasn’t that late, but the tears streaming down her cheeks, and the flashes of her time with sungchan that came up every so often made her tired, made her want to escape. 

Within a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep, not wanting to think about sungchan anymore, hoping her tears would dry themselves. 

Hours passed, and YN woke up from her spot on her couch. Her back ached from the uncomfortable position, cheeks a bit puffy from crying. She went to shower, dousing herself in water to soothe her skin, and ease the pain that came from her uncomfortable sleeping position. She changed into pajamas, and dried her hair before putting it up. YN knew that since she had woken up when it was late, she wouldn’t be able to sleep well. Given that, she decided to treat herself. She wouldn’t go to another party with Yunjin, she wouldn’t spend her night crying over sungchan, she’d just let herself relax. 

She reached for her phone so she could order herself some food, but a notification made her stop for a moment. 

Channie <3: hi

Channie <3: can we talk pls?

Channie <3: i miss u

YN scoffed at the messages. Two weeks and her turning him down was what it took for him to take interest again?

She didn’t respond and placed an order for delivery. She had Wine in her cabinet that she saved for special occasions (or nights when she needed a little pick me up) and a pint of her favorite ice cream. She brought out her favorite blanket and sat down on the couch, trying to pick what she should watch, settling on twilight because what could take her mind off of things with sungchan better, than a YA romance movie.

She got up and grabbed the wine from her cabinet, pouring a bit into her glass and talking a few sips before reaching around for the ice cream in her freezer. In the midst of her search, she heard a knock on her door. Not realizing it was too quick to be her food order, she went over, and opened the door. 

“Sungchan?”

He stood in the doorway, eyes wide, as if he had ran up the stairs like he had the night of their first date. 

YN just sighed. “What are you-”

She was cut off when she felt his arms wrap around her, his head buried in her neck as if he wanted to crawl inside her. She heard him let out a shaky breath and her eyes widened, confused as to what was going on, and why he suddenly showed up. 

“I’m sorry,” he said into her skin, arms tightening around her. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, I promise,” His voice was soft, almost fragile sounding.

YN was stunned for a hot minute, standing there and letting him hug her before hesitantly bringing her arms to wrap around him, relaxing into his grasp. They stayed like that for a moment before each pulling away. YN led sungchan further inside, leading him to sit on her couch. She sat next to him, an awkward distance away. 

“What’s going on?” she asked hesitantly. 

“I wanted to apologize, and like… explain why i ignored you,” 

YN looked at him expectantly. 

“So, I have a big exam coming up, and it makes up half of my quarter’s grade. And if I failed, my semester exam would also be sunk, so-” He paused. “Not important. When I get into something really intensely, I have a bad habit, that I’m gonna work on, of kinda forgetting everything else. Even Shotaro struggled to get in contact with me. He had to drag me out earlier today.” 

He looked at YN and sighed, seeing her hesitant expression. 

“I really am sorry that I hurt you. It wasn’t my intention, but I know I did, and I promise, I’ll make it up to you,” He reached for her hand lightly. 

YN looked down at their hands. “I thought you lost interest in me,” She said quietly. 

“What?” Sungchan asked, confused if he heard her correctly. 

“I thought You lost interest. I thought you lost interest and started ignoring me.” She said a bit firmer. 

Sungchan’s heart dropped hearing those words. “YN,” he brought his other hand to her cheek, tilting her gaze towards him. “What I did was a mistake. A mistake I promise, I won’t make again,” his thumb brushed her cheek. “And I promise, I swear on everything, I’m still pretty crazy for you,” He gave her a light smile. 

His words made YN smile, intertwining her fingers with his as he leaned in to give her a soft kiss. They wrapped their arms around each other once more, not letting go of each other even as they just sat on the couch, covered by the blanket. 

YN got up when she heard a knock on her door, much to sungchan’s dismay. She brought back the food she ordered, plus the ice cream and wine. When sungchan reached for some, she swatted his hand away.

“Thats not for you,” she shook her head with a playful smile. 

“I thought you weren’t mad?” Sungchan sat up a bit, concerned.

“I’m not, but i ordered these for me,” She poked his stomach. 

When Sungchan stuck out his bottom lip in a pout, pleading for some food like he had been starving all day, YN rolled her eyes. 

“Fine,” she said, and gave him some food, and poured him a glass of wine. 

They found their places back on the couch, snuggled up against each other, sungchan’s arm draped around her waist as she rested on his chest. In the middle of the movie, while the Cullens played baseball, sungchan spoke up. 

He asked her, “Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?”

whoopee!!! I finished pt 3, stay tuned for the next parts, I pinky promise they'll come out sooner.

taglist: @oftenjisung , @vhuteryh, @skzhoe4life, @cheederzchez , @so-lychee , @leehanascent

[jellyrabbitz]

𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓔𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

Don't ever suppress your feelings in the name of the law of assumption or attraction.

Contrary to popular belief, feelings do not manifest; if you get sad over something and spiral for a little, that doesn't mean you're going to somehow attract more misery into your life, or that your manifestations will instantly fall apart.

Allow yourself to process your emotions. You don't have to remain in a happy or fulfilled state at all times to manifest. Many of you in this community seem to think you have to keep your 'mental diet' in check, but I don't believe it's necessary. Forcing yourself to think only positive and happy thoughts 24/7 is exhausting, isn't it? When I first joined this community, all it did was burn me out. I even began to experience lower back and hip pain because of how much I held in. Often I found myself thinking, "Why do I still feel so miserable even though I've supposedly been doing everything right?"

It's because shoving down your frustration and agony only riles it up more until it rears back up angrier and gnarlier than before, like a nasty untamed beast.

Don't be like me and simply let the emotions roll over you instead of fighting them. They're gone much quicker when you allow them to come.

Look, your manifestations will come regardless of how you feel. Think of it this way, you might get pissed over how long it's taking your package to arrive, but it's still on its way to you. So let it all out because there is nothing to worry about, you aren't going to ruin your 'package' just with some silly emotions. Seriously, don't listen to whoever came up with the whole 'negative emotions ruins your manifestation' bs.

Besides, 'perfect' people have their bad days as well. I see some coaches saying, "if you were your desired self, would they be having this negative thought?" Yeah, she might actually, because she's still a human being and not some unreachable goddess without emotions. Even people with their dream lives have negative thoughts just like anyone else. This idea that our 'ideal selves' have no negative thoughts or emotions EVER feels ridiculous to me.

Let's face it, it's normal for a lot of us in this community to feel discouraged. Trust me, I get it, it may look like nothing is going your way and this is all pointless. You might check the 3D and wilt when you realize nothing seems to have changed. There's nothing wrong with that! Checking the 3D is a normal thing for us to do-just like checking if our package is on the way-and I honestly think 'ignore the 3D' or 'the 3D isn't real' is harmful advice.

The way I like to see it is that the 3D is merely a reflection of my old and shitty thoughts that isn't permanent, and whenever I manifest it's like I'm planting a seed.

Instead of trying to force yourself to believe your 3D is perfect now, (which is extremely difficult for those of us who have terrible circumstances and can also be bad for your mental health) it may be better to acknowledge your current situation but know that it's changing.

I'd like to give an example from my own life, since I know my wording may seem confusing to some. A few weeks ago I received the news that my uncle was bound to die very soon, and they were putting him on a ventilator. Obviously I was upset after hearing this, and I allowed myself to wallow in sadness for a few minutes. Everyone around me was convinced he wouldn't make it.

Although I was miserable, I still persisted in the thought that he would pull through. I didn't even do any of my usual methods such as scripting and just told myself, "I know he will make it."

A few days later my aunt called me overjoyed. The hospital suddenly switched up and said he wasn't doing as bad as they thought, and he wouldn't even need the ventilator!

See? I still manifested even while I was sad, even while I had doubts, and he made it through. This is only one example of many.

You can manifest while feeling any emotion, even the acrid ones that feel like they're eating you up inside. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

[confusedblakex]

Words

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima X Deaf Reader (GN)

Summary: Kirishima always wondered why he had no words on his wrist, but when he meets you it all makes sense

AU: Soulmate AU - Soulmates have tattoos of the first words their soulmates say to them

Wordcount: ~1430

Warnings: Self consciousness (inferiority complex)

Requested by: Me stressing about finals

Notes: As a hearing person, please let me know if I offend anyone with the way I've written the reader (or if you have any constructive criticism)

Last edited: 24th May 2023

Kirishima was self-conscious about many things. His looks, his personality, his quirk. And the fact that he had no soulmate.

The first words a person’s soulmate said to them would be written as a tattoo-like mark on the inside of their wrist. Everyone found their soulmate at some point in their life, whether intentionally or not, they would end up as friends or lovers or something in between.

Not everyone wanted to find their soulmate, but having no soulmate at all was even rarer than being quirkless. And on Kirishima’s wrist, there was nothing.

His love of sweatbands and nice watches wasn’t because of their usefulness and functionality, but because it meant he never had any questions about his soulmark. Though that didn’t mean he completely avoided the subject, and he always felt a sting in his heart whenever his friends brought it up.

But UA would be different - he told himself - at UA, he wouldn’t fear judgement because of it. And so for his first day of hero school, he didn’t cover his wrist, the empty space looking so abnormal to him.

Yet on the first day, quite a few people found their soulmates. He may have felt his heart ache, but reminded himself of the new person he was. He wouldn’t let this get him down. So when the topic of soulmates was brought up, he didn’t shy away - though he was nervous - and told his class about his lack of soulmark. No one made a fuss, and no one made him feel bad. Bakugo even called him lucky for not having destiny be the one to decide his partner.

So manly.

And though he still wished he had a soulmate, he didn’t let himself feel upset that he didn’t have a soulmark. Well, that was until he met you.

You were a transfer student who joined midyear, and apparently you knew Uraraka since she greeted you with a hug the moment she saw you. And then once Aizawa walked in,  you introduced yourself to the class.

Notebook in hand, you took a deep breath and stood in front of the class. Kirishima watched as you flipped open the first page of the notebook and gasps and whispers filled the room.

“Hello, my name is (y/n), and I’m deaf” 

And you flipped the page again.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all”

You were nervous, he could tell you were nervous, but you smiled through it regardless. You were shown to your seat by Aizawa, and the moment he tried to go back to sleep the class erupted into chatter. Uraraka ran over to you and started making quick hand movements to you, which Kirishima realised was sign language.

The rest of the class followed suit, all rushing over trying to talk to you and asking Uraraka to translate. You took out your notebook with some pre-written answers for common questions. Things like:

“I do have hearing aids, but that doesn’t mean I can hear fully”

“If you want to talk to me, please make sure I’m able to see your face so I can better understand what you’re saying”

Once the fuss all died down, Uraraka ended up convincing you and a bunch of others to start a club to teach people sign language so you could communicate with them more easily. Which was then followed by Bakugo, of all people, going up to you and challenging you (and probably also insulting your quirk) in fluent sign language.

But Kirishima never took his eyes off you. You were gorgeous. The way you interacted with the class as they asked you questions, and how cute you were when you were focusing on listening to someone. Your smile and the positive aura you had.

He had fallen hard.

---

He walked up to you one day with the intention of asking about joining the sign language club, but he couldn’t seem to think clearly. He had never spoken to you before, so once he had your attention his mind blanked.

Instead he said the first thing that popped into his brain.

“Hey, I uh… just wanted to say I think you’re really pretty…”

Your eyes went wide as your wrist started to tingle and then gently burn. It only lasted a moment, but you knew exactly what it meant. You pulled your sleeve down just enough to see the words glowing, and then turned to furiously sign to Uraraka, who was already understanding what was going on.

“Oh my gosh, (y/n)’s your soulmate!” She exclaimed, probably a little louder than she intended as you winced at the noise.

“What?” Kiri asked, not because he didn’t figure it out, but because it simply wasn’t possible. And yet it made so much sense.

The silence that followed rang loud, and yet your bright smile made everything alright. Kiri couldn’t help but pull you into a gentle hug, one that you quickly reciprocated.

From that moment on, Kirishima felt complete, felt as though his heart was whole. As though all those years spent feeling insecure about his lack of soulmark, and all those nights he spent wishing he’d have a soulmate were nothing.

And your friendship quickly became something more. Kiri didn’t want to feel like he was pushing you into a relationship, but it just felt so natural. His love for you was unlike anything he had ever felt, and it only grew greater each day.

Kirishima wanted to confess his feelings for you, but he wasn’t sure how. Not once had to two of you spoken about your feelings regarding the realtionship, and he wanted it to be special. 

He finally convinced Bakugo to teach him sign language - even though Bkakugo wouldn’t tell Kiri why he knew it - and planned the perfect way to tell you. On his birthday.

Unbeknownst to him, you wanted to do something special too. With the help of Uraraka, Momo and Jiro, you all came up with a plan. The three of them were the best friends you could ask for and were so supportive of your feelings for Kirishima. Together, they helped you learn over the months, and for Kiri’s birthday you were going to tell him you loved him. With words.

It wasn’t as though you couldn’t speak, you could, you were just so self-conscious about how you sounded - and of course it wasn’t easy. But it was something you were willing to do for Eijiro. He was so uplifting to be around, and encouraged you endlessly. For years you were worried that your soulmate wouldn’t be interested in you romantically because of your disability, but Kiri didn’t care. He loved you regardless, and you couldn’t be happier.

But when the day finally rolled around, you suddenly didn’t trust yourself. What if you sounded weird? What if he didn’t like your voice? You knew it was just your thoughts bringing you down, but they were so difficult to ignore.

A tap on your shoulder brought you back from your thoughts, and your turned to face Bakugo and Kirishima. You smiled at Kiri, but Bakugo had something to say.

“Stupid hair had something important to say, so you better pay attention” he signed, “I’ll kill you if you don’t treat him well”

His face softened, and he patted you on the back before leaving, which took you off guard. It leaft you and Kiri alone together, but you were still confused.

He looked nervous, but before you could ask any questions, he bagan signing.

“It’s my birthday today, and I wanted to do something special”

“And I really don’t want to come off as weird, but it’s not manly for me to keep my feelings hidden from you”

He signed to you fluently and confidently, making a few mistakes here and there, but you could tell he was really trying. And it was wonderful.

“I love you (y/n)”

This was not how you expected it to go, but it was perfect nonetheless. He confessed to you! It was practically the perefct setup.

“I love you to-o, Kiri-shima” You said, making sure you carefully sounded out the words so you didn’t say anything wrong.

Kiri didn’t even have time to process that you just spoke. You loved him too!

“Really?! Ow-” He felt his wrist burn, and he hadn’t even noticed until it hurt. He tugged his sleeve down to see what had happened, but paused when he saw there was no wound. Instead, his wrist was glowing with words appearing on his skin.

‘I love you too, Kirishima’

[klausysworld]

Any chance of something With Klaus and reader, where reader is worried about how much time Klaus and Cami spend together, but Klaus plus everyone tells her not to worry. It their anniversary and reader is all ready for the night out that Klaus has planned but Klaus doesn’t show and comes home to find reader asleep on their bed still dressed in her gorgeous dress it then he remembers their anniversary.

You were with Cami

Pt 2

For weeks i had listened to the entire Mikaelson family had been persuading me that Klaus was loyal and would never do anything to harm me.

See he’d been spending the majority of his time with his new friend Camille, i’ve met her a few times and she’s so unbelievably nice. Like she’s polite, smiles, gives her perfect opinions and makes everything laugh. And just to top it off she likes me, decided we should be friends too. We even went out for lunch. She’s lovely. I would want her too. And i hate her for that.

It’s wrong to be mad at her but she must know that she’s some what harming mine and Klaus’s relationship. You can’t be giggling at every little thing he says with your hand on his bicep without knowing that you’re flirting.

One time she kissed his cheek right in front of me, she gave me such a kind smile i would have looked like a dick if i didn’t return it. When i brought it up to Klaus he told me i was being dramatic and needed to ‘calm down’

Somehow i’m not allowed to talk to a single being of the male community but if i get upset over him dancing with a gorgeous blond then i’m being jealous and pathetic. I thought at least Elijah would back me up being the ‘feminist’ he says he is but noooo “Niklaus loves you y/n, you’re imagining things. You’re hid redemption and you can’t be thinking silly things, it will ruin your relationship”

Well bet they weren’t prepared for me storming through the compound in a very expensive body con dress. One i had spent hours choosing so that my own boyfriend or whatever he was meant to be would notice me

See he had asked me to meet him at this restaurant and let me just say it was nice restaurant with a lot of snobs sat in it. Lets imagine the immense embarrassment i felt when i sat waiting at a table for over 4 hours. Thankfully the waiter was sympathetic and felt bad so he gave me some free drinks. I actually ended up having a pretty good chat with him, his fiancé had left him a week before their wedding, i think we both cried a little too much and the people in there did not like us.

Once the place closed i came back to the compound and the second i stepped foot inside it seemed to hit me again. He left me alone, no text, no call, no excuses. I was holding together until the other Mikaelsons came into view and Rebekah just had to mention him

“where’s Nik? i thought you two would’ve been back ages ago”

and i burst into tears. I saw the panic in all their faces as they quickly went to comfort me. Rebekah wrapped her arm around me and Kol took my hand but i shoved both of them off

“no! none of you get to pretend you care anymore, you all knew didn’t you? you knew he was with her, knew he wouldn’t come to be with me because why would he anymore!? And i swear if anyone of you says that i make him a better person i think i might just scream, i am not his redemption and i don’t mean anything to him anymore, your entire family is one big lie, you’re all liars and i hate all of you, i’m staying the night and that’s only because i have drank way too much to be driving but i don’t want any of you saying goodbye because i will be gone by the time you wake up and yes Elijah i know you get up fucking early” half of my words were definitely slurred but i think the message was clear regardless as i made my way upstairs and collapsed on Klaus and i’s bed. The bed that i thought we would both come back to, instead i was cold, alone and drunk.

———————————————————————

(third person)

Klaus had just got home to three nervous siblings. Elijah was pacing the length of the living area while Kol chugged his scotch and Rebekah chewed at her once perfectly manicured nails. Klaus narrowed his eyes as they all froze upon his arrival

“who did something stupid?” he asked with a sigh and Kol hesitantly raised his hand

“don’t dagger me but um i think you did…”

“what?”

“i’d check upstairs if i were you”

and so he did

Klaus turned the light on only to find his love curled up in a beautiful tight dress and a tear stained face. It took him a minute before he finally realised what had happened

“no no no no” he whispered as he lifted her passed out body, the smell of alcohol was strong as he held her in his arms

“oh my love, please forgive me” he uttered as he peppered her face with kisses

“i’m so sorry” he told her despite her unconscious state.

“you look so gorgeous sweetheart, you look like an angel” he whispered rocking her gently

“i’m going to make this all up to you when you wake up, i promise you y/n, i love you so so much” he carefully removed her dress and slipped one of his shirts onto her, he wiped her once flawless makeup off of her face

“i’m so sorry” he repeated continuously while getting her ready, slipping her heels from her feet and taking out her elegantly styled hair before brushing it through and plaiting it for her. He didn’t bother changing his clothes as he got into bed and held her as close to him as he could

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t with you”

“you were with Cami” she tiredly uttered, still pretty much unconscious though that didn’t stop the flow of tears in her sleep. His heart hurt as he heard her broken voice

“i’ll never speak to her again, i’ll never see her again” he promised both her and himself

“i love you” he muttered kissing her lips softly

[stellarxdeath]

I've seen a handful of posts lately saying that the writers of IWTV have butchered Claudia's character and/or wrote her poorly, things of that ilk; lamenting how dirty she was done by the skill of the writers. Now that I'm all caught up and s2 is finished* [ sob ] I... Have some choice thoughts on this perspective.

Number one being that Claudia was explicitly doomed by the narrative the moment she'd been introduced to it. Her death is referenced but not outright stated initially, moreso implied, but the writing makes no mistake in telling us that Claudia, the Child Vampiress, will die. She's not potentially out there somewhere, she's not in hiding, she is dead, and she will never be able to tell us the whole of her truth beyond her diaries.

The second issue that the "IWTV Writers bad" crowd seems to forget is that, Even with the diaries, this is ultimately Louis' story, and the gaps in perspective are inevitably filled by him and eventually Armand, but never Claudia. She was disregarded because time and time again, Louis disregarded her for Lestat, and then for Armand; She was betrayed by the coven she professed her love for with a horrible, terrible, calculated eagerness because of Louis coming in and fucking with the coven dynamic; Regardless if that dynamic was healthy or not.

What Claudia and Louis had was precious, but it was also deeply, deeply flawed. He can effectively be blamed for her death, drawn all the way back to the riots incited by his choice to kill Fenwick; Was Louis justified in doing so? Yeah, abso-fucking-lutely, but this doesn't change the fact that his choices directly damned her to die.

Third is the claim that Claudia went from lethal and independent to desperate and weak? When? No?? Again I'm loosely paraphrasing some posts I've seen and attempting to take them in good faith; Claudia, from season one, was very interested in finding other Vampires, she was hellbent on it, and unfortunately it lead her to Bruce aka "The Motherfucker."

Her attempt to take Louis with her to Europe in s1 was in service of that goal. Claudia wanted to escape Lestat, she wanted to save Louis, and she wanted to find her people. She even tried to make her own Vampires despite being a fledgling! She has always wanted community, and I'd go as far as to say she was so strong because she could only rely on herself for so goddamn long, Louis being trapped under Lestat's thumb even after Lestat came crawling back in the later half of s1.

I understand that Claudia is a fan fave and people very rightly wished for her to live - the thing I have a gripe with is that some are taking this love for her and making it more important than the story itself. Interview With The Vampire is a tale of regret, trauma and abuse, a story of how memories are monsters and to be a Vampire is to be damned to the Odyssey of recollection, and if you don't survive, your memory will always inevitably be twisted over time. A life in eternity is a life full of pain.

The fact that people are so upset over the unfairness of her life is the intended effect; You are supposed to be upset that she is doomed, the writers of IWTV did a fucking fantastic job of making you feel that way - however, blaming the writers and crying "Bad writing" over the intended reaction feels just a tad silly to me.

As another post put it: Louis loved Claudia so much, but it was never enough. Everyone in Claudia's life except for Madeline betrayed her, her vampyric rebirth was the bandaid to a shitty vampyric marriage, she was denied her own life and Armand the Ancient fucking Coven Leader did nothing to save her; so much so that she was a goddamn Sacrifice so that Louis may live instead. Disregarded. Doomed. Damned. The injustice is meant to piss you off, I beg of those who think the Writers fucked up to simply sit with that feeling. Sit with the injustice. In the end, it's all any of us can do.

it was not finished oops* more opinions on the way

[adventuringblind]

Drive With You Forever

Chapter sixteen: Boo!

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: Reader scares Carlos, Max is overprotective, an unexpected visitor appears

Warnings: alcohol consumption, survivors guilt, arguing

Notes: After much deliberation, I've decided to let my affinity for even numbers win.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The sun is barely peaking over the edges of the sky as her and Lando walk hand in hand around the hungararing. Charles needed to be at the paddock early for his media duties. The two had decided to go with since they were up and let Max and Oscar sleep until the last minute.

The walk is peaceful. The shared airpods are playing soft music that Lando picked. Occasionally, he spins her around, or they stop to dance horribly.

It's so early that even the pitlane is empty. The occasional sound of tools can be heard, but no souls can be seen.

The music and Lando are so distracting that she doesn't notice anyone sneaking behind her. Hands grab her shoulder, which pulls a terrified gasp out of her. Instincts take over as she throws whoever it is behind her into the nearest wall. It's not hard, just enough to subdue. And scare- she supposes.

She holds whoever it was as her breath starts to even out. She can hear Lando and Charles laughing incredibly hard. Which is weird, because then who is she-?

"Carlos?!"

She releases her hold on him, and the spainard sinks to the ground. His expressions go through the five stages of grief.

"I told you not to scare her mate!" Charles is kneeling over in laughter.

She rushes to help him up. And to her shock, he lets her. She would have expected him to run in fear. Bolt to the nearest asylum and tell them to come get her.

"So, you're some kind of superhero? Or am I imagining things? Or are you really that strong?" Carlos asks questions faster than she could process. She's startled, overwhelmed, and frankly confused.

Charles comes to her rescue with his arms around her waist. "She's our superhero. If you tell anyone, you're dead."

"She looks like she feels bad for just shoving me against the wall."

"I never said it would be her doing the killing."

~~~~~

Charles flinches as Max slams the door behind him. He hates when any of them is angry. Max, however, has to be the worst.

Not because of anything he's doing wrong. The Dutch simply struggles to communicate when his emotions are flaring higher than normal. Charles hates seeing him so upset when all he wants is to keep them safe and happy.

He is currently curled up on the bed next to Lando. Oscar is sitting on one of the plush lounge chairs, and the female is curled up on a bar stool, not looking at anyone. She looked like she might cry. When Charles called Max to explain what had happened, he was not happy and started ranting over the speaker. Now she is sat there, blaming herself for messing things up.

"Carlos is coming over tonight, so we can explain this to him, yes?" Max asks the room. They all nod to confirm it. "I don't understand how this happened. We have no idea how Carlos is going to respond."

"He seemed fine when we left-"

"-But that doesn't guarantee he won't tell anybody." Max cut off Lando, and the Brit shrinks into Charles with a look of defeat.

Max then turns his attention to the female. The emotionally unstable girl who hadn't even been living in a proper home for that long. Who had immediately concluded she had ruined their lives once again (not that she ever did, this was her conclusion that Charles can't see how she came to).

"I would've expected you to at least have seen something by now. I thought your visions were to prevent these incidents, but they always seem to happen regardless." Max's volume rises as he speaks. His hand movements get more aggressive, and he can see the female getting more glassy eyed by the second. "It's so hard to keep you safe when you let things like this happen!"

Oh, Charles is going to kill him. But he'll have to do it later because before anyone can stop her, she is running out of the room. Only stopping to grab her shoes.

"Max Emilian Verstappen, I have half a mind to drag by the neck to Sebastian to explain this one to him." Seethes the Monegasque.

It's not often that they argue. Having more of them in a relationship means more arguments, but it also means more mediators. People who are neutral to help them resolve the issue.

Max already looks like he knows he messed up. "I didn't... I- I didn't mean it like that." He stutters out. Tears threaten to fall from his eyes.

Charles sighs in frustration. "Maybe we know that, but she takes things litterally." He goes through possible options. "I think we should give it an hour before we try to find her. Let her have some space first."

"Not sure how we're going to find her." Oscar points to where her phone lay. "Can't see her location if her phone isn't with her."

~~~~~

She's not sure where she's going. Just walking to clear her head. Figure things out. Understand why she can't just do things right.

Maybe Max is right. Maybe this really is all her fault. She let this all happen. She could've stopped it if she had more control over these stupid abilities.

She knows her mind is going to a dark place. It's a place she hadn't been for so long. But the voices that aren't hers are pulling her under water. She can't breathe knowing she messed up yet again. How many failures are needed to prove she's not meant to continue this life.

Her father had said the same thing Max had. Over and over, every day, the reason why he took everything from her. Because she had let her mother die and still doesn't have the strength to bring her back.

Why should she live? Her mother hadn't deserved her fate. Neither had any of her bloodline who came before her. Why should she be allowed to live freely when none of them had?

She must have blacked out while walking. Somehow, finding herself tucked away in a back alley, a bottle of alcohol in hand.

She didn't even know she had money. Furthermore, she doesn't even like alcohol normally. She supposes this isn't a normal occasion and instead takes a swig from the bottle. The burn in her throat distracts the thoughts in her brain.

She hears her name being called, but she's too apathetic to care. Yet as they continue to grow closer, she lets out a groan and shifts her weight upwards and against the wall. Her legs feel like they might give out from the weight. She falls, expecting to hit the concrete face first. Instead, she lands against another person.

"I've got you." Comes a familiar Australian accent. Oscar lowers her back onto the ground and assesses her for any injuries. "You forgot to take your phone with you. We've been searching for you for hours."

"Well, I guess Max can lecture me about it then. I'll add it to the compiling list of things I've done wrong."

Oscar isn't normally the most assertive person. He can be when he needs to, but he can also easily follow the flow of other people. This is one of those times where he needs to be. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were startled. You went defensive. Max knows what he said was wrong, and he didn't intend for it to come out that way." Her body is pulled into his. She hadn't realized how it had gotten late and that she is cold now. His body heat is comforting. "Come back with me and let Max apologize. Everyone is worried that you'd been taken again, and Carlos is at the room as well."

She can hear the waiver of anxiety in his voice. He hates not knowing where she is. It leaves too many possibilities for her to get hurt, or worse, taken away from him again.

Oscar helps her walk back to the hotel. The bottle of alcohol left behind in the alley for someone else to take advantage of. It's a long, wobbly walk where she feels anxiety building with every step. Even when they get to the door, she has half a mind to turn and run. Though she doubts she'd get very far.

Lando is the one to open the door. He looks as if he'd been crying. If he was, he didn't say anything.

He helps Oscar get her to the larger then neccecary bathroom. Then she beelines straight for the empty bath. Her safe place.

"Max wants to apologize. Can I let him in?"

"Yeah, but can you stay, please?" She's not sure she can express things properly right now and may need Oscar's calm to help the two very emotional people through.

"Wouldn't think of leaving."

He opens the door and summons Max over. It's an awkward few moments as the two get comfortable. She fiddles with her hands while they do so.

Max sighs. His eyes are red and tired. His face settled in his constantly moving hands. "I'm so sorry for what I said. I wasn't thinking properly and I was scared. Which is not an excuse I know-"

"I forgive you. It's not like I handled it well, either."

"I just want you to be safe. You've been through so much already that I just want to see you not worry yourself sick." They look at each other now. Really take in the hurt and worry that paint the feature of the other.

Oscar decides to give them a few moments alone before joining the others. Lando had once compared their post argument affection to remind them they are okay to aftercare. She deems them very different. In this case, both her and Max were high on emotions, so they did and said things that weren't right. But they'd all come to an agreement that when there are apologies made and forgiveness granted that they don't hold onto it. At the end of the day, they are human, and humans do stupid things. This is a promise that they are going to be fine.

~~~~~

Oscar isn't sure what he's expecting to happen when the two step out of the room, but it certainly wasn't Carlos being star struck.

"I have so many questions."

"You always have questions."

"I think he always has opinions, actually."

Oscar rolls his eyes. Carlos could ask all he wanted, but he probably would get the answers he's looking for. There is some part of him that knows Carlos commands and controls his environment. Yet the other side of him sees what Charles sees: a funny and playful Spaniard. Plus, the Aussie is new to all of this, and if anything, he can't help but feel mildly anxious.

"Have you always had your powers?" Carlos looks at the female with curiosity in his eyes.

"Yes, I was born with them." His eyes flicker to Max as the Dutch places his hand on her lower back. She seems to flinch at the question itself. As if having to recall the answer also brought with it memories.

Carlos keeps asking more specific questions, prying further into the females past. She does her best to answer as many as possible, but she's gradually steeping into a more anxious state.

"I think that's enough for tonight." Max pulls the girl into him, and her demeanor shifts again. Relaxed from feeling safe in his arms. “Jack, can you take her to the other room?”

Oscar simply nods and gently leads the female to the connected room. Two rooms since apparently it’s difficult for them to all sleep comfortably in the same bed that isn’t built for five. There have been many angry physios because they were falling off the bed or settling for the floor. So, they had to change tactics.

When he closes the door behind him, the two throw themselves into bed. “Does Max not want us in there for a reason?”

“Do you want to be in there still? Because I’m happy to sleep.”

He will not get to sleep yet, however, because there is a knock on the door. Oscar groans in exhaustion and annoyance. How had they managed to know what room they were in? Doesn’t anyone sleep these days?!

Oscar takes his sweet time getting up and meandering to the door. He swings it open with more attitude than neccacary, but to his shock, there is nobody on the other side.

A small box sits outside the door. For everything that has happened, a box is probably the least of their worries. Oscar, however, still gets a chill up his spine when he bring it inside the space.

"A package? Did you see from who?"

"A ghost? An invisible man?"

"No need to be rude..."

Oscar sighs and starts ripping open the small cardboard box. "Sorry. I'm just tired -" he catches a glimpse of the contents. "A whole box for a single note!"

The girl looks at his with curiosity. If she weren't so damn cute, he would close the box and think about it later. Instead, he unfolds the paper. "It's a letter... from your father."

~

Lando watches the older boys intently. Carlos and Max have been going back and forth for awhile now.

“Have you considered that maybe this is a condition?”

“Have you considered that her father is a psycho?”

Carlos had been trying to figure out the reasons behind everything. There is one, technically speaking, but it isn’t their place to share that information.

“I know you want to protect her Max, but maybe you should consider visiting the the guy and asking him about it.” Carlos gets up off the bed and stands in front of Max. His stance is loose and relaxed. “She looks like she’s in pain and ready to break at any second.” He claps Max on the shoulder before heading out of the room.

Lando looks at the older two. “Well that was eventful.”

Max flops down in between himself and Charles. The groan he lets out is muffled by the pillows. “I don’t like his tone.”

“His tone? Or the fact maybe he was into something?” Charles quirks his eyebrows.

“Both.”

The three of them pull back the covers after getting ready for bed. Lando having checked that Oscar and their superhero of a girlfriend are at least in bed.

“On the bright side, we can’t even think about that until after this weekend. We’ve got driving to do still.”

~

Names with lines through them were unable to be tagged.

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @chanshintien @vellicora @hollie911 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @be-your-coffee-pot @copper-boom @allmyfanfavorites @sadg3

[etoilesbienne]

I try to be a fair person I try to be understanding. but I am sick and tired of having to read about the many sins of Léa for being a whistleblower. People are straight up putting words in her mouth for things she did not say.

Frankly I'm a little appalled that the MCYT community can have a huge moment about the heavy amount of misogyny present in the space and come away with the take she didn't actually experience hate from the fan community. No the other admins didn't not experience hate, but she didn't say that. She said she received hate for being the first person to come out. Or how she was discredited repeatedly and the "Jay" document was used to shame her pointedly and make her out to be unreliable and "a hater." Gee whiz I wonder where I've heard "she's just hysterical and took things too seriously and is a vindictive person out to get others projects to fail." That sure sounds familiar. Especially in CC spaces pertaining to women. Why would she be exempt from misogyny at the hands of the fandom?

Though the way people behave about former admins expressing frustration at the lack of internal translation is making me crazy. There is nothing wrong with Quackity speaking his native language in a stream for announcement. None of these admins ever said he was at fault for speaking Spanish, they were criticizing the lack of internal communication outside of the streams, and the fact the studios had no official translators on payroll to help with communication issues between languages. They aren't asking for him to speak English, tbf most of these admins don't even have English as a first language, why would they want a stream in a different language they aren't fluent in? I don't think Léa was expecting Quackity to suddenly start speaking French. They're asking for translations in the languages they do speak so they can understand these important announcements about their jobs, because they were not receiving the information about these announcements any other way. To be honest it still boggles my mind, even after all of this, that QStudios never even had official translators to relay messages between Quackity to other streamers and admins. Regardless, I feel like people are interpreting this pretty fair criticism of the complete lack of translation to non-English languages impeding the already barely existent communication to be as bad faith as possible from every side. On one hand you have people choosing to believe that is what the admins are saying and agreeing with it and then being racist toward Quackity over it, on the other hand you have people choosing to believe the admins are being racist toward Quackity and sending them hate over it. I'd be insane to deny racism toward Quackity wasn't also happening though.

I don't know what else to say than people who have been working insane hours for months on end to be exploited, and they're upset. This is a server a lot of people cared about as fans, of course the first person to come out and reveal the terrible conditions is going to receive the most amount of hate over this specific instance. It's not an unfounded claim. Have you seen the shit people say about Léa on twitter? It also doesn't mean the other admins didn't receive hate in their own regard, it's just the first person to come out is usually the biggest punching bag for it. Misogyny didn't magically dissipate from the fandom with the removal of a few problem CC. My god hear yourselves and the way you talk about a woman coming out as receiving workplace abuse.

[glisten-inthedark]

Ngl I’m so torn between gay Mike and bi Mike for a few reasons

I want good bi rep with Mike and internalized biphobia is as real and important to represent as internalized homophobia, so I think it would be so awful for the Duffers to write that into the story

Also I almost think it would be more “palatable” to the general audience because I think a lot of people would be upset if they thought Mike was “”””””leading El on”””””” (as if he’s not just a confused teenager in the ‘80s who’s scared of being labeled a slur) and would be more accepting of a narrative where Mike fell out of love/romantic feelings for El

Tho considering all the biphobia that surrounded Bridgerton recently;;; ugh

But on the other hand, I feel like gay Mike makes a ton of sense narratively, the idea that it’s always been performative heteronormativity would make sense especially since in season 1, Eleven looks like a boy and is mistaken as a boy by multiple people including my aunt who despite being told she’s a girl over and over kept calling her “him” 🫥, it makes it feel like Mike subconsciously felt she was someone acceptable to crush on because she looked like a boy but was a girl so it was “safe”

It’s honestly really hard for me to put into words why gay Mike feels like it fits so well but yeah I want bi Mike pretty bad too

Hi!!! How are you doing?

I actually agree with all of this, and I am also torn between Mike being bisexual or being gay.

Honestly, the whole matter of how the audience is going to deal with all of this is something that I've been going over in my head. I realized that regardless of how they go about it, it will be complicated for people to digest, and I don't even think that it will be for lack of trying (not for the non-homophobic/biphobic asshats anyway).

Unfortunately, many people are unaware of things like internalized homophobia/biphobia, especially if they aren't queer themselves, or are at least in touch with the community, so yes, I think Mike being bisexual might be a little more "palatable" as you so aptly put it, rather than him being gay, because I also think there might be a lot of misconception about him and El, so yes, there might be people getting upset because they would think he "led El".

There's so little bisexual representation in this day and age that it'd be awesome to see it in such a big TV show.

However, as you mentioned as well, there's a lot of biphobia going around as well, literally people dismissing it outright or acting as if it's not real, so it's like we say in Brazil: "Se correr o bicho pega, se ficar o bicho come" which roughly translates to "Dammed if you do, dammed if you don't" kind of situation.

So I'd be happy with both outcomes, although I also think him being gay makes a lot of sense from a narrative perspective, I'd be happy with either scenario.

Thanks for the ask and I hope you drop by again (:

[scoobydoodean]

i’d like you to know you’ve made me much more of a bitter deangirl when it comes to the trap. like i still love the idea of it, of them reconnecting in purgatory of all places, and i still like the idea of lots of what dean says re: should’ve asked cas to stay and i forgive you and talking *about* his anger, but… dean had a right to be angry, including at cas. and yeah it’s good that dean apologized, for the sake of healthy communication cause that’s what you do when you’ve said hurtful things in an argument regardless of who’s “right”, but cas also should’ve apologized again. in fact, i can’t remember so i could be completely misremembering, but does cas ever actually apologize to dean beyond expressing the sentiment of feeling bad that mary died?

and i’m also thinking about the conversation they have before being separated. i like the angst of cas’s line re: i left but you didn’t stop me, but again, dean was not the only one in that argument. to leave was very much cas’s choice, and it feels kinda unfair to put that on dean, regardless of whether dean saying smth would’ve actually gotten cas to stay (which, to dean, probably would’ve seemed unlikely given cas’s past habits). and also, cas saying dean couldn’t move on, that’s actually fucking heartbreaking and almost… cruel. iirc it’d been at most a couple weeks since his mom (his mom!) had been killed!! plus dean never got to say goodbye, again!! of course he couldn’t just move on!

idk idk… anyway i believe i’ve sent an ask about your opinions on the trap before lol, and sorry about this long ass message, but i recently saw a gifset about that conversation (before being attacked) and all the notes were like ‘yes cas you tell him!’ ‘dean needed to hear that!’ ‘finally got dean’s head out of his ass!’ and it kinda made me annoyed for dean which. brainrot. but whatever. bitter deangirls unite, dean deserves the support 😭😭

context

LMAO sorry for my tumblr arc culminating in me turning full bitter deangirl ig and taking some of you down with me (I'm not sorry actually I'm having a ball in this bitch).

Cas's attempts at apologies are cataloged here. So he does try to apologize. But how many times has Cas been "sorry" only to do the thing he apologized for again? I mean the fact that he keeps "apologizing" for lack of communication and unilateral decisions over things that impact other people besides him and secret deals that blow up in all of their faces over and over and over and over shows that he is... not actually that sorry? Because if you're actually sorry, you actually change your behavior. Except Cas thinks "getting a win" (while actively digging a deeper hole in his relationship with Dean) is the way to "apologize" and make everything better instead of just... changing his behavior. And whatever his latest big plan to fix everything is never works and instead actively makes his relationships and his own self esteem worse. From the outside perspective, what Cas is doing (apologizing then doing the thing he just apologized for again) is just kind of... the ultimate way of telling a person you claim to love that their feelings actually have very little value to you. I mean Cas would be horrified by the idea that he doesn't actually value Dean's feelings, but what conclusion is Dean supposed to come to? Is it any wonder that Dean is perpetually confused about what exactly Cas thinks of their relationship? Is it any wonder that he reached a point where he couldn't stand to hear one more of Cas's meaningless apologies? To maintain any semblance of a relationship with Cas, Dean has to focus on what he feels about Cas's intentions (intentions Dean has always had faith in being good) but that faith and care increasingly forces him to ignore aspects of their relationship that are deeply hurtful because Cas refuses to do his part in addressing their issues in any meaningful way. It's just a vicious cycle of Dean trying to communicate that their lack of communication is upsetting and Cas pretending to listen and apologizing but clearly not actually listening or understanding the gravity of the situation and how it is slowly building a rift between them over years (with perhaps the most striking and hurtful example being The Future) until the secret over soulless Jack becomes "the straw that broke the camel's back" and Dean absolutely explodes at the end of season 14... and then... still... Cas's secrets remain—to the bitter fucking end.

Also yeah tbh Cas's "I left but you didn't stop me" makes my eyes roll so hard. Painfully stupid dialogue with unpleasant (though likely unintentional) implications (as linked in thread above).