#i apparently exist to make everyone have sad feels all the time

[cripplecharacters]

Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?

[large text: Does Your Scarred Character Have to Hate Themself?]

(TLDR: no. literally no.)

A frequent topic that shows up around facial differences is the self-hatred, self-disgust, self-insert-negative-emotion that we must surely experience. I want to ask* writers without FDs - why? Why do you feel about us in such a way that that's the most common way of depicting us?

*- rhetorical question. I promise I know the answers, but I'm not sure if writers do.

It's frankly worrying to me. Is it really that common to assume that disabled people have this internal, never-ending hatred for themselves? The overwhelming majority of us don't. We hate inaccessibility, when people stare, or some symptoms when they get in the way, or how expensive being disabled is, but I find the concept of us being so completely disturbed by our own disabilities extremely strange. It’s “tragedy porn” intersecting “most basic ableism”.

“But trauma!”

[large text: “But trauma!”]

Trauma of what! People with facial differences don't have some sort of default trauma that we come with like it’s a factory setting. We are a group of people with tens of thousands of stories and experiences!

“Trauma of experiencing ableism/disfiguremisia” - that's better, at least this means something. If you're writing a story about this, please get a sensitivity reader with a facial difference. You can assume how we feel all you want, but in my experience these assumptions are often bizarre and unrealistic. Or just end up writing the same “disability so sad” sob story that everyone has seen a billion times. If you want to write about disfiguremisia, you need to understand the nuance and have more than just the basic level knowledge (which 99% of people don’t have either). If you can’t do that, don’t write about it. Simple as that.

“Trauma of the accident” - thankfully, the accident is an event and a facial difference is a disability. If you want to connect these two like they're one and the same, you're almost surely going to demonize disability. People with traumatic spinal cord injuries, acquired amputees, people with TBI, people with acquired facial differences - we participate in our communities, we have hobbies, we date, we play with our dogs. Disability isn't a death sentence. Media who make it feel like it is certainly don't help people who do suddenly become disabled, don't you think?

Here's a post by @blindbeta about blind characters becoming blind through trauma that’s better made than anything I could hope to write here. I heavily recommend giving it a read.

And, I can't stress this enough - most of us didn't have “the accident”, most of us are born like this! "Traumatic scars" isn't the only facial difference that exists, far from it, it's only one of thousands. It's 99% of our representation and "representation". If you want to make a character with FD - please consider that we aren't a monolith. Just like not all physical disabilities are "wheelchair user with paralysis", not all facial differences are "traumatic scar with somehow no nerve damage".

The overrepresentation of it is incredibly telling, and sometimes - or very frequently - feels like the writer doesn’t actually even want to deal with us. They want to use our disability as a way to cheap drama, moral metaphors, tragic backstories. Not to represent us as living people who are much more similar to you than you apparently think.

Now, I do have enough awareness to know that that's a big part of the appeal. “Horrific Thing #2456 happens” and boom, instant drama! Of course, it's a reasonable response that they would hide their disability for years, avoid talking about it in any way, and magically change their personality to be mean and reclusive, or at least be constantly soooo sad about how much it sucks to be disabled, right?

Do I really need to say that having your character becoming disabled be the worst thing ever is ableism 101? We have been talking about this for so long at this point. Writing about the process of adapting to a specific disability is better left to people who have actual experience in it.

To give an example that will hopefully resonate more with Tumblr users, I will use the fact that I'm also gay. It's not perfect by any means but probably much more familiar territory.

Imagine, let's say, a character. He's gay. The story he's in is supposedly progressive, certainly not trying to be homophobic. The character has experienced an incident, maybe an act of aggression or a hate crime, that happened because he’s gay, which was traumatic. Happens IRL, sure. So of course the character starts hating being gay. He talks about how gross and disgusting it is, he never lets anyone know that he could be “one of them”, certainly not take a stance against homophobia. You can't mention him without mentioning the accident, they're seemingly fused together. No gay love, joy, even basic happiness, he would actually choose to be straight in a heartbeat if given the option to and complains that he can't. This is shown as a neutral, obvious thing that a gay man would do, no one comments on it. He stays like this the whole time, unless there’s a plot twist in the last 10 pages where the world is now magically perfect ("we fixed discrimination, yay!"). This is the only LGBT character in the story.

Keep in mind that there are people similar to this in real life, living with extreme internalized homophobia.

Is this, in your opinion, realistic and thoughtful representation? How does it feel when written by a cishet writer, versus a gay writer who is recalling his experiences? Do you think that it's reasonable for the majority of media representation to be like this, or very close to it? How would it affect younger gay people who might already be uncomfortable with being queer? Are gay men the target audience, or are they not even considered as a group of people who read books? Is this helping or damaging the general public's idea of how it is to be gay? Why or why not?

The Masterpiece

[large text: The Masterpiece]

From 13 to 19 of May, we are celebrating Face Equality week (what a coincidence!). It’s important to me in general - and I wish it was more important to abled people, but I digress - especially its theme for this year.

“My Face is a Masterpiece”

Great statement, it represents the community well, I do enjoy how bold it is. Very cool stuff, I love the work our advocates are doing!

But why do I bring this up?

Well, to very non-subtly show that we aren’t a self-hating group of people. We are a community, a community saying “our faces are beautiful, look!”, we are saying “treat us equally, and do it now!”. Our activism isn’t about self-disgust. It’s about fighting your-disgust. 

Why can’t writers keep up? Why are you still stuck decades behind?

Is this the only reason I bring it up?

The Call to Celebration

[large text: The Call to Celebration]

FEI, the org behind organizing it, asks a very simple question (emphasis mine):

“Why do we so often see stories about facial difference as a ‘tragedy’, when they should be about triumph?” “Calling all artists, allies, creatives, galleries.  You can rewrite the story to bring about #FaceEquality and celebrate the unique artistry found in every face. Your participation this #FaceEqualityWeek will help to tell the real story, that there is a masterpiece in every face.”

Here. We are calling for you to stop. Directly from the biggest international advocacy alliance group that's out there. If you create, this is for you.

The last argument to not have your character with a facial difference hate themselves? Because we don’t want this. We are tired and frustrated. For me personally, I’m also offended by this kind of assumption. We aren’t tragedies or cheap entertainment for abled people to pity or be horrified by. We are people, and if you can’t internalize that, you have no reason to write about us.

For once, celebrate us. Happy Face Equality Week!

mod Sasza

[csainzoperator]

yummy: LN4 ☆

summary: y/n is a chef in the mclaren hospitality who is famous for her fabulous recipies. everyone is head over heels for her recipies, and a certain someone is most definitely more than head over heels. but not just for the food.

(lando norris x fem!reader)

read more under the cut!

itsmey/n has posted!

another day at work! for the british gp, their special "sticky toffee pudding" was a success :)

tagged: landonorris and oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 76,123 others.

landonorris it was so yum (she fed us the so called desert forcefully after giving us a 4 course meal)

- oscarpiastri you're such an ungrateful brat. it was great, bestie itsmey/n

- itsmey/n thank you pastry, and lando...i might leave you to starve to death.

lewishamilton i would kill for a pudding rn! you should drop by merc hospitality y/n!

- mclaren look at you trying to steal our goddamn chef....

f1wagsss oh my god you're so pretty

landonorris has posted!

P2 AT HOME RACE BABY!! so proud of the team to be finishing at P2 and P4. also special thanks to y/n for feeding us well :)

tagged: oscar piastri and itsmey/n

liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55, itsmey/n and 872,182,283 others.

landonorizz are we gonn ignore the fact that y/n just made it to a lando post???

lechaaair OH Y/N FEEDS US TOO. SHE SERVES ALL THE DAMN TIME. MOTHER 🙏🏼🙏🏼

itsmey/n its literally my job tho...?

- oscarpiastri some people are bad at their job. he's appreciating you for being good. (lando you fr have no rizz man)

carlaando lando are you trynna make a move GN

- landonowinss BROS PROBABLY REGRETTING RN 💀

(time skip!)

it was the hungarian gp. you were in the mclaren hospitality. the mclaren kitchen was quite big, and your co-workers were extremely sweet. you mainly cooked for the drivers and mechanics, while guiding the others. you were tasting a dish when you feel a presence behind you. you immediately recognise who it is.

"what is it now, lando?" you ask with a knowing smile on your face. he sits down on the counter beside you and watches you as you work. "i was wondering if you would like to, maybe, just maybe, come outside with me and sit down and talk and get some food you know?" he blabbers

"are you asking me out on a date?" you tease him. "well, yeah. only if you want it to be. its okay if you say no" he says with a sad smile on his face. you cup his face with one of your hands and give his cheeks a squeeze. "ofcourse i'll come, dumbass. now shoo, let me work. you're too distracting"

the smug smile he has on his face makes you blush. "so i am distracting huh? what else am i? you can give me details when we go on that date" he winks at you and walks off. you just simply shake your head in amusement.

the date goes well. to be honest, more than well. you both have the most fun ever. lando is everything that you craved. he was the sweetest boy. day by day, meal by meal, both of you started talking more, discovering each other. one fine night, in his apartment in london, where you taught him how to bake his favourite cake, he surprises you by asking you to be his girlfriend. you say yes without hesitation. you knew he wasn't going to play around with your heart.

it was the brazilian gp. lando had placed P2 again! you were the proudest girlfriend to exist, and the happiest. you were just so incredibly proud as he was doing so good this year.

itsmey/n has posted!

brazil you were brilliiianttt <3 liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris and 92,233 others.

f1wags HOLD UP. SOFT LAUNCHING????

oscarpiastri yuck i hate being around the hospitality now.

landonorris 🌟

- carlandodod PLS IM NOT OK WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

- leclercvc oh. my. god. guys. i think its lando and y/n.

f1gosssip apparently some people saw looking for his "girlfriend" after the race, and some people even saw him kissing a girl in the mclaren garage! we hope its y/n 😫

y/nfannn MOTHER WHO IS THAT

landonorris has posted!

brazil with bae. thank you team for making the P2 happen! more to come.

p.s i don't believe in soft launches. she let me hard launch after 8 races 🖐🏼

tagged: itsmey/n and mclaren

liked by mclaren, itsmey/n, charles_leclerc and 827,123,12 others.

oscarpiastri GAG

carlandooo MAMA Y PAPA

carlossainz55 finally mate! congrats :)

maxverstappen1 lando isn't a kid anymore

f1wags OFFICIALLY OUR FAV WAG (with lily obv)

itsmey/n i love you, baby! super proud <3

- landonorris i love YOU. so much. so much.

paddockclubb 8 RACES?? HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON OMG

the end ♡

[anaargent]

ANOTHER FIVE PT 2

FIVE HARGREEVESXREADER

parte 1 aqui -> https://www.tumblr.com/anaargent/758436879965274112/the-heaven-is-here?source=share

-Ookay - you say after a long pause, your hands tightly clasped with the new five, who after ending the confusion stated that everything was wrong in this timeline - so shouldn't I be in this line?

-Almost that - he says, still sitting on the couch next to you - you shouldn't be on that five's timeline - with a tone of disdain on his tongue, he points to his five, who was now in commission mode activated, keeping a safe distance from his clone - by the way, you don't look anything like me, I must say my dear.

Five glares at the other, the gears in his head turning, perhaps debating between hitting the clone or listening to him

-so where is she supposed to be, genius? - Diego asks confused, with a defensive tone. Everyone seemed to exist with all the information.

-Max - the new five says unperturbed, his personality was almost as unfriendly as the five from the first Apocalypse - She's part of my timeline, where no disappearance happened.

-So how the hell are you here and she is too "Max"?- Five approaches cautiously - how are we going to trust you?

- As much as I would love to, we don't have time to strengthen relationships here, little brother - Max says smiling as he gets up, pulling me with him - apparently you're not smarter than my family either, so I advise you to hurry up and look for Viktor and Ben, you're coming with me, dear - his tone became softer as he turned to me.

Klaus and Diego stand up together, ready to protest. -Whoa, wait a moment - you say, planting your feet on the ground - where am I going? How will I know you're telling me the truth.

Max keeps a calm look - You'll need to trust me, just like you trusted him - he points to Five. After a few minutes of discussion and a farewell too brief to calm his mind, everyone was ready to try to save the world once again. - Stay sober and take care of yourself - you sniff as you pull away from Klaus' hug, who murmurs a sad "I promise but I don't know if I'll keep my word" - and you too, brother - you jump into Diego's open arms, who was trying his best not to be shaken by the sudden separation.

.

.

-So this is the plan? I'm just going to swallow that shiny thing into the void and that's it? - You mumble in confusion, already sitting in the strange subway with Max - Does it all end?

He turns around smiling, a hint of nostalgia filling his beautiful eyes (focus s/n! This has happened before) - Everything ends, the timelines will be separated, everyone in their places, and you with me.

You let out a nervous laugh and look away from the intense look he gave you to the extremely interesting subway window - It doesn't make sense - You turn back to him - How did I end up on the wrong line?

-Believe me, I've been looking for this answer for years, but you're here now- he answers in a melancholic tone, there was more behind those words, but for now you decide not to press this new five, who seemed more fractured by time than the five you know, as if he had already seen too much of this world, and maybe he had .

.

.

You were standing in front of what looked like a huge slimy ball, with a deformed face and long fingers. Scared wouldn't be an accurate word for what you were feeling right now. Closing your eyes, you put your hands on the ground, where the roots of the giant slide spread everywhere, feeling them move over your fingers. "Come on, girl," you murmured nervously. "It's all or nothing."

Then you felt an intense pain take over your body, tearing your skin to rise to the surface, opening the great void and swallowing everything in that damned mall. Everything was a blurry memory, the void sucking the Durango completely, draining all your strength. When you opened your eyes, you gathered the courage to smile tiredly. It was over, your family was saved. Exhaustion finally set in, taking what was left. You prepared to hit the ground and surrender to the void. But you felt soft hands hold your body, lifting you from the cold floor, pulling you out of unconsciousness.

-You got it my lovely little wife, now let's go home - Max smiled proudly as he wrapped the girl in front of him with his arms devotedly. watching you smile lightly as you rested your head on his shoulder.

[krirebr]

More Than This 5

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~6.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, Linda being Linda, all of the Thrombeys being really awful actually, explicit language, references to bad sex, flagrant disregard for HIPAA (actually, just assume that HIPAA doesn't exist in this universe), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Oh god. I promise that there will be a point when this isn't so sad all the time and that point is soon. But it also isn't today. I'm so sorry. 😬

Huge thanks as always to @paperweight91 who listened to me whine and read countless fuzzy screenshots, and gave great advice and was just all around awesome. And to @stargazingfangirl18 who reached out with encouragement when the words just weren't coming.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Ransom had the complete collection of Harlan’s books. You couldn’t say exactly why that surprised you, but it did. He even had the two poorly-received romance novels Harlan had written under a pseudonym. You hadn’t known the two of them were so close, but then again, you still didn’t really know anything about Ransom.

So that’s what you’d been doing with your days, making your way through Harlan’s complete works. You were currently reading one about an au pair that had been found dead in her charge’s locked nursery when your phone rang. 

Your brow furrowed. The list of people who ever contacted you had gotten much shorter since you’d moved to Boston. Steve, Ransom, Linda unfortunately. That was pretty much it. You looked down at your phone to see your mother’s name. Oh.

You’d expected her to reach out in some way since your wedding and had tried very hard not to feel hurt when she hadn’t. Everyone’s lives had moved on. You were the only one stuck. But you still hadn’t had it in you to be the one who called her. You took a deep breath and answered your phone.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Honey! How are you?”

You kept in your sigh. “I’m fine. How are you?”

“Good, good,” she said, but she sounded sad. She always sounded so fucking sad. It struck you then, that that’s probably how you’d sound too, in ten or twenty years. Maybe less. Probably a lot less. “It’s so nice to hear your voice honey.”

“Yeah,” you said, and, pathetically, you could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes. You weren’t angry with her. You couldn’t be. It wasn’t her fault she was so broken. It was inevitable. For all of you. And your frustration with her didn’t change how much you missed her. Missed home. Missed the way things used to be. “It’s good to hear you too.”

“I know it’s been a while,” she said softly, “but I wanted to give you a chance to get settled. How are things going?”

“They’re going fine,” you said quietly. You paused. You didn’t want to say anything bad or worry anyone, but also it was your mom. “I don’t know. It’s different here. I don’t have anything to do.” 

She just chuckled. “Cherish that. It’ll change soon and then you’ll miss this time.” You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. After a few moments of silence, she continued. “And how’s Ransom?”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t want to talk about him. Things had been… better since your panic attack. He came home at a decent hour regularly. You fucked most nights now. But he was still just this looming presence. You didn’t know what to do with him. “He’s fine,” you said with a shrug.

That was apparently the wrong answer, judging by the little hum she made. “I know it’s hard at the beginning. When I first married your father–” she cut herself off with a deep breath. “Remember, honey, keeping him happy is your one job now. It’ll get easier the longer you do it.”

A few tears finally broke free and fell down your cheeks. “I don’t– I don’t know him. I don’t know what makes him happy.”

“Then finding out will be a good use of your free time, won’t it?” You glanced at the book beside you, feeling shamed in spite of yourself. “I know it feels so hard, but men are shockingly easy. They just want to be taken care of. That’s all you have to do. Make him dinner. Keep his home warm. Give him heirs. Don’t argue. That’s all. You’re going to be such a good wife to him, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You shrunk down into the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees, making yourself as small as possible. You hated this. Hated that she didn’t want more for you. That she’d never tried to give you more. But you were tired, too, of being upset with her for not doing the impossible. What else was she supposed to have done? What else could she give you when she didn’t have anything herself? “Ok,” you whispered. It was all you could manage.

“Joseph says hello, of course,” she said, and you wanted to laugh. He’d done no such thing. “He’s so proud that you’ve made such a good match. He’ll be happy to hear it’s going well.”

“Mmm,” was all you were able to say. You hated this. You couldn’t do it anymore. “It’s so good to hear from you, mom. But uh, I have to– I have to go.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Well, alright. I miss you so much, sweetheart. We’ll talk again soon. I love you.”

You could barely hold the tears back now. “I love you too,” you said, your voice thick. “Bye.” The moment you hung up the phone, the damn broke. You couldn’t stop it. You cried for your mom. You cried for yourself. You cried for the way everything had changed and there was no going back. You cried because this was a day when it felt like no one on earth was on your side. A shaking Lola forced her way into your lap and you held her until you were able to calm down.

Once you’d stopped crying, you looked around. You couldn’t sit still, your mother’s words ringing in your ears. Your eyes locked on the kitchen. That was something you could do. You glanced at the time. If Ransom came home at his new regular time, it would be tight, but you could do it if you made something simple. But not too simple. Something that showed effort. That you were trying. 

You got up and looked in the fridge. All those tidy little glass containers full of meals his housekeeper, Carol, made. You’d never felt like they were taunting you before, but now. Now you wanted to smash them. You could do this. You could make him like you. Show him what you were worth. You could make yourself a life better than your mother’s, maybe. Get him on your side.

There weren’t a ton of raw ingredients, but after combing through the entire contents of the fridge and pantry, you found what you’d need for a decent spaghetti. Carol was probably planning it for later in the week. Well, now she wouldn’t have to. You’d do it yourself.

You put some music on and got to work. Losing yourself in the prep. But you’d lost yourself too much maybe, because you were still chopping when Ransom walked in the door. 

Lola, of course, rushed to greet him. It still rankled. She didn’t realize that one wrong move would have him kicking her out. His words from that first dinner had never left your mind. But a few days ago, he’d started reaching down to pet her as she danced around him. You didn’t know what either of them were playing at.

He looked at you, now trying to hurry through the rest of your prep, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m making dinner,” you said, gesturing to all your work obviously. You looked at the time. You weren’t slow. He was early. Why the fuck was he early? He was ruining all your plans.

“Why?” he asked as he took off his coat, then shoes. “Carol’s put plenty of meals in the fridge.”

“Because I wanted to!” You said, your knife coming down on the onion under your hand too hard.

The knife hitting the cutting board caught his attention. He looked at what you were doing. “I don’t like onions.”

You threw down the knife more carelessly than you should have. It slid across the cutting board before coming to a stop at the edge of the counter. “Then why were they in the pantry?!”

“How should I know?!” he shouted back, matching your tone. But then he looked at you and stopped. “Have you been crying? What happened?”

You froze. Shit. You hadn’t even thought to check what you looked like. You swiped at your face and turned away. “It’s the onions. Obviously.”

“Your face– that looks like more than onions.” He now stood at the edge of the kitchen, only the island between you.

“I’m fine!” you snapped, then forced yourself to take a breath. “My mom called,” you conceded. “It’s fine.”

“Oh,” was all he said for a moment and then, “You and your parents are close then?”

You couldn’t explain why the question irritated you so much. Maybe it was the assumption of homesickness. Or referring to Joseph as your parent. Or just him being here earlier than he was supposed to be, asking you anything. You couldn’t keep the shortness out of your voice when you responded, “My mom. Sometimes.” 

You looked around at your progress, the mess you’d made, the onions he didn’t want. So much for keeping him happy. What a stupid idea. You felt done. Over everything. You began cleaning up all the food, scooping it into the garbage.

“What are you doing?”

“I changed my mind! You don’t want any of this anyway. Have one of Carol’s fucking dinners.”

“The fuck is going on with you?!” he shouted as he watched you clean up the kitchen.

“I changed my mind,” you repeated, throwing the cutting board into the sink. “I’m not hungry. I’m going upstairs.” You stomped over to the staircase.

“You’re not going to eat anything?” he called after you.

“No! I’m fine!” You shouted as you took the first few stairs.

“Yeah, you sure seem fucking fine,” he grumbled as he headed to the fridge. 

You stopped and glared at him. “Wake me if I’m asleep when you come up. I’m ovulating, so. Tonight’s important.”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, flatly. “I got your text.” That was news to you. He'd never responded to it. As you turned to continue up the stairs, you heard him add under his breath, “Although I’m not sure why you feel like you need to be awake for it.”

You stopped and turned around, coming back down a step. “What was that?!”

He turned to you, one of Carol’s glass containers in his hand, and sighed. “Nothing. I’ve had a long day.” You just stared at each other and then he added, “Aren’t you tired of it being such a chore?”

Something crumpled in you at that, but you didn’t want to stop and look at what it was. “Well,” you said. “The sooner I’m pregnant, the sooner it won’t be.” Then you turned and stomped the rest of the way upstairs. 

When he woke you later that night, he was already ready to go. You didn’t even take off your pajamas, just slid your shorts down to your calves. He was right. It was a chore.

It was a few days later when he texted you in the middle of the day. You were hiding in the bedroom while Carol cleaned downstairs. She was still mad that you’d wasted the spaghetti ingredients. You were reading in bed with Lola when your phone buzzed beside you.

Big family thing at Harlan’s on Saturday. We’ll be expected.

For some reason, it was the ‘we’ that caught you. It was the first time you’d realized you were a package deal now. If Ransom was invited somewhere, you would accompany him. And vice versa if you were ever invited anywhere. You couldn’t imagine it, with how small your world had gotten. 

The rest of his message caught up with you. His family. Linda had reached out multiple times since her awful visit. Every time you spoke to her, you got so small. You worried that prolonged exposure to her might cause you to completely disappear.

Aside from his parents, you’d barely interacted with the rest of his family at the wedding. It would be fine. You would be fine. You’d have to be. They were your family now too. You’d be seeing so much of them. For the rest of your life. You ignored how much your chest tightened at that thought.

Saturday came too soon.

Ransom paced around the bedroom while you both got ready. You’d never seen him like this before. He wasn’t dressed. He just kept walking in and out of his closet. And looking at you. You didn’t know if you were doing something wrong. He didn’t say anything, he just couldn’t keep still. The one time you’d asked if he was alright, he’d barked back at you that he was fine, so you hadn’t asked again. 

Watching him pace around was making you even more anxious than you already were. So you focused all you could on getting yourself ready. You’d asked Ransom earlier if his family dressed for dinner and he’d just grunted in response. But it felt like a no, so you wore one of your favorite day dresses. It was your favorite color. You hoped it would give you confidence. You did your hair. You put diamond studs in your ears, with a matching tennis bracelet on your wrist. Reasonable heels on your feet. A spritz of perfume on your pulse points. It was the best you could do without more information.

You stood in the middle of the bedroom once you were done. Ransom was still undressed, still moving. “Uh,” you ventured, hesitantly, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. “Will we have enough time to get there?”

“Who gives a shit?” he growled, thundering back into his closet. A few moments later he came back out, wearing dress slacks and a cream cable-knit sweater. There were holes in it. You could see them clearly from the other side of the room. 

“Ransom,” you said softly, oddly feeling like you were speaking to a spooked animal, “don’t you think that sweater’s a little worn?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he rasped. “Let’s go.” Then he was out of the room and halfway down the stairs, with you scrambling to keep up behind him. 

The drive to Harlan’s country estate was mostly silent. You’d tried to turn on the radio at one point, but Ransom just turned it right back off. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his hands were bright red. You wondered if he was hurting himself. You didn’t know why he was so stressed. You were the one about to walk into the lion’s den, the one who had no idea what was waiting for you. It was his family. He’d be fine. You had no idea if you would be. You rested your hands in your lap, clutching them, and settled into the silence.

You knew that Harlan lived quite a ways out of town, but you still got to his home much too quickly. The large mansion loomed over you as Ransom parked his car amongst the others in the drive. He turned off the ignition and then just sat there, staring ahead. Just as you were about to call his name, he slapped the steering wheel harshly with one hand then growled “Let’s go!” to you and got out of the car. Once again, you scrambled after him, but this time, he slowed, slightly, to let you catch up. Once you had, he put a firm hand on the small of your back and ushered you up the path and into the house. You didn’t have time to react to that or try to figure out what on earth he was doing before you were greeted by a woman Ransom snidely called Franny. She responded with a very curt “Hugh” of her own then introduced herself to you as the housekeeper. She took your coats, and then Ransom’s hand was back on you, guiding you into a sitting room.

The entire family was already there, most with drinks in hand, and they all turned to watch you enter. You felt pinned by their gazes. “Well!” Ransom’s uncle Walt called out. “Look who finally decided to show. And just in time for the food, of course!” 

Ransom stiffened slightly beside you then smirked. “Well, thank god we’re in time for your fifth drink, Walt. Who’d want to miss that?”

Walt scowled as he got up from his seat, then lumbered across the room, knocking his shoulder into Ransom’s as he passed and jostling you in the process. You started to sway a little, and Ransom’s hand immediately came to your hip to try to steady you. Your gaze flitted down to it, but just as quickly it was gone.

Everyone else began to get up and make their way out of the room. Meg, at least, gave you a small smile and wave, but otherwise, you were mostly ignored. That was, at least, until there were only three people left, Ransom’s parents and Harlan. 

Harlan immediately hugged you. “It’s wonderful to see you, my dear. You look so lovely.” He took a step back to look at you both. “I trust you’re taking good care of each other. This is one of the most important times in your marriage. I hope you’re cherishing it.” 

“Sure Grandad,” Ransom snarked, “we’re loving being married to a complete stranger.”

“Ah, now, you’ll only remain strangers if you let that happen.”

You saw Ransom about to open his mouth to say something else, so you jumped in with a quiet, “Thank you, Harlan, we really appreciate that.”

Harlan smiled at you, big and genuine, and then clapped Ransom on the shoulder. “See, my boy,” he said. “I knew she was exactly what you needed!” 

Ransom’s jaw ticked but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to respond either. Harlan’s kindness had a way of making you feel invisible. 

Linda stepped up to you all then. “Darling,” she said, her tone dripping friendliness in a way that made you brace for impact. “I see not even your positive influence can make my son be on time. How disappointing.” She added a little chuckle onto the end, but you took it as the reprimand it was meant to be. You pasted on your most benign smile, but as always, she made you feel about a foot tall. You had no idea how anyone thought you were supposed to make this man do anything. Like he cared about what you thought or wanted. Like you had any power at all. 

“Is that why you married me off, mother?” Ransom asked, matching her friendly tone, but when you looked up at him, his eyes were hard. “So there’d be someone to handle me?”

“Well,” she said, a placid smile on her face to match your own, “someone has to. Lord knows you haven’t listened to me in years.”

“And yet,” Ransom said, his tone dropping all friendliness, “you still got me here, didn’t you?” 

The look on his face startled you. You’d never seen him this angry. Without thinking, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around his wrist. At your touch, his eyes snapped to yours. You weren’t sure exactly what he found there, you felt lost enough that you couldn’t imagine your expression was much help, but after staring at you for what felt like an age, he gave you the smallest nod and relaxed his posture. 

“We don’t want dinner to get cold,” Harlan called from the doorway.

Linda straightened, finally ending the standoff with her son. “Yes, of course,” she said. Then she looked at you, really looked, her eyes traveling up and down your body, taking in all of you and everything you were wearing. She quirked her eyebrow at you and let out a distinctly judgemental little hum. Then that friendly smile was back and she turned away from you. “Oh, Dad, there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” she said as they both left the room.

You stared after her. You didn’t know what you’d done wrong. You’d looked at everyone when you’d arrived and confirmed that you weren’t under or overdressed. She herself was wearing a simple but smart pantsuit. Your clothes were nice, clean, and pressed. You were put together. What could her problem possibly be? You tried to breathe but you could still feel her looking at you and your chest was so tight.

You were brought back to the present by Richard wrapping you in a hug. His lips brushed your cheek as he said, “So nice to see you again, honey.” Then one of his hands on your back traveled lower until it grazed the top of your ass. You couldn’t help the way you jumped.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Dad?” Ransom shouted next to you. “I’m standing right here!”

Richard pulled away and you took a deep breath at being free of him. What the hell had just happened?

“What?” Richard rounded on his son. “I can’t greet my daughter-in-law? You’re so sensitive, Ransom. A little attention is flattering, isn’t it, honey?” 

They were both staring at you. You knew you needed to say something but all you could do in your shock was gape at them. 

Ransom wrapped one arm around your waist to pull you close to him. “You’re a fucking creep,” he growled.

Richard just scowled and made his way to the hall. “Disrepectful little shit,” he muttered as he left the room.

It wasn’t until his father was completely gone that Ransom dropped his arm from around you. He looked you right in the eye, his face so serious, as he asked, “Are you ok?” And there was something in his tone, fear maybe, that startled you just as much as Richard’s hand.

“I’m fine,” you nodded, your voice shaking only the slightest bit. When he still didn’t release you from his gaze, you brushed your fingers over his arm. “I’m alright.”

Finally, he nodded but didn’t really relax. “He’s–” he began, but cut himself off. “Just, watch out for him.”

“Ok,” you said, trying to sound strong. Reassuring. Ransom still just stood there. “Are– are you alright?” 

That seemed to bring him out of wherever he’d been. “What?” he asked, somewhat sharply. “Yeah, of course. Come on,” he said, turning to the doorway. “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

Everyone else was already seated at the large dining room table when you came in. Ransom guided you over to the two empty chairs in the middle of one side and pulled yours out for you before seating himself. The catering staff moved around the table setting down plates and pouring wine for everyone. But when the server got to you, they moved past you without pouring anything. In case you were pregnant. Of course. That was fine. You just hoped no one else noticed.

“I’m sorry,” Ransom said from beside you and your stomach dropped. “Is there a reason my wife isn’t being served wine tonight?” 

“Ransom,” you whispered, still hoping everyone would just ignore it, but it was too late.

From the other side of the table, Walt piped up liked he’d just been waiting for an opportunity. “Maybe the staff got confused and didn’t realize she’s old enough to drink.” His eyes sparkled and he grinned, proud of himself, as it took every muscle in your body not to shrink down in your seat. 

“Great catch, Walt! You’re right. She is still much younger than me. Like I said before, and I’m sure I’ll have to say again, neither of us chose this. I would’ve thought that’d be a concept you’re familiar with, seeing as how you practically begged Harlan not to make you marry Donna.”

“Ransom!” you admonished quietly. Your eyes cut to the willowy blonde sitting next to Walt, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You had no doubt that he deserved this, but you had no idea if she did. 

Ransom’s eyes cut to you. “You’re right,” he said, before looking back at his aunt and uncle. “I should be nicer to Donna. I’m sure being married to Walt is punishment enough.”

“You little shit!” Walt responded. “I’ll have you know my wife is very happy. Which I’m sure is more than you can say for yours! What’s it been, a month? Two? And she already looks completely miserable.” 

You felt all eyes turn to you again and you weren’t sure you’d ever felt more self-conscious in your life. Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t say anything, so you picked up your fork and took a bite of the fish you’d just been served. It didn’t taste like anything.

From your left, Joanie spoke up. “Hey, those first few months of marriage are hard. But so rewarding. I know when Neal and I were first married–”

“Yes, Joanie,” Linda cut in, dryly. “My brother was a saint and we all miss him very much.” She turned back to her son. “There’s no need to get upset, Ransom. We just didn’t want to accidentally serve a pregnant woman alcohol. Better safe than sorry.” She picked up her own fork to begin eating. “Speaking of, if the two of you have an announcement to make, now’d be the perfect time.”

You couldn’t stop your grimace. Ransom stiffened next to you, then answered, “No. No announcement.”

“It’ll come,” Harlan finally joined in from his place at the head of the table. “There’s still plenty of time.”

From the other end of the table, a teenage boy you’d never even met before said, “Maybe not. Maybe she’s barren.” And you felt all the wind go out of you.

“Oh fuck off, you little incel shit!” Ransom shouted.

“She isn’t barren, Jacob,” Linda said, calmly. “We have all her medical records to confirm she’s perfectly fertile.”

You could’ve sworn you blacked out at the moment. You’d known, on some level, that if there was a clause in the contract, it’d come with some sort of confirmation that, at least on your side, it was even possible. But to know that they had your medical records and now were discussing them like you weren’t even here, like you just didn’t matter… You hoped the earth might open up and swallow you whole.

You felt a gentle hand land on your knee but it didn’t really register. Nothing did. You didn’t know where the conversation went from there. You couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears. It was all you could do to keep breathing. But you knew they all kept sniping at each other. And you felt the anger radiating off of Ransom the entire time. 

The clinking of plates and scraping of chairs finally got you out of your stupor as the family got out of their chairs and staff started clearing the dishes. You looked over at Ransom, for help or support maybe, you didn’t really know. But he also looked like he’d gone somewhere else. He could barely meet your gaze.

You were still numb as people made their way back to the original sitting room. You just needed to make it through the rest of the evening. You could do that. Just as you had gotten to the other room, Harlan stopped Ransom with a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like a word in private with you, my boy.”

Ransom looked at you for a moment, then sighed and said softly, “I’ll be right back,” before following his grandfather deeper into the house.

And then you were alone. You were at a loss as to what to do with yourself, so you went back into the sitting room and settled on a vacant couch. Not everyone had migrated there.  There were only a few people in the room now. Jacob sat in the corner, hunched over his phone, but every once in a while he would look up, catch your eye, and smirk at you. It had you sliding further back in your seat. His mother was no help. Donna was slumped over in an armchair, still cradling half a glass of wine. Meg had already shrugged on her coat, giving a hurried wave as she moved through the room. And Richard–

Richard sat down next to you. You slid down the couch as subtly as you could. “You know,” he said, “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”

Alarm bells went off through your whole body. You saw Ransom’s face again, from earlier. How angry, yes, but more than that ashamed and unsurprised. How he’d looked at you. How he’d asked if you were ok. How it’d felt urgent. “It was a busy day,” you gritted out, trying to think of any way to get yourself out of this room.

“Ransom is a very lucky man,” he said, inching closer, his arm draped over the back of the couch, “to have such a beautiful bride.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled uncomfortably. “That’s very sweet.” You looked around helplessly. As he opened his mouth to say something else, you stood up. “I’m going to go get myself some water. Do you need anything?” you asked, but didn’t give him a chance to answer. “No? Ok, I’ll be right back.” And then you fled.

You hurried down the hall toward the kitchen but slowed when you heard voices. You picked out Joanie first, then Linda. You slowed to a stop right outside the kitchen door, trying to weigh just how much you wanted that water. Was it worth facing them? Were they any better than Richard?

“Okay,” Joanie said, ��but what do you really think about her?” Your stomach dropped. You tried to reassure yourself that they could be talking about anything, anyone. You pressed closer to the door as quietly as you could.

“I think,” Linda said, then paused while you heard the clink of glassware, “that she will serve her purpose just fine.”

Joanie laughed. “I just have a hard time picturing Ransom with such a mouse.” You closed your eyes. You should go right now. Nothing they had to say would be of any help to you. But, despite your best interests, you were rooted to the spot.

“She definitely wasn’t chosen for her personality, but Ransom understands how good this will be for the whole family. How important it is”

“Oh, of course,” Joanie simpered, and you just hated both of these women so much at that moment, maybe more than you’d ever hated anyone. “I just feel so bad for him. He must be so bored.”

“Listen, I told him that he just needs to get her pregnant, and then he can do whatever he needs to do. Once he has an heir. As long as he’s discreet, of course.”  

Joanie cackled. “You didn’t! Oh, you’re so bad!”

“He might already be behind on that one, anyway,” Linda said, and you could practically hear her smirk. But you didn’t know what she could possibly be talking about. She didn’t know you and there was no one– unless. Oh god.

“Well.” Linda continued. “You know, she and her step-brother are very close, if you know what I mean.”

“Really?” Joanie asked, fucking eagerly.

“Mhmm,” Linda hummed. “Did you not see them at the wedding? They were practically hanging all over each other. He had to be kicked out of her dressing room.”

“No! Does Ransom know?”

“Well, I haven’t told him yet. You know how he gets. I’m waiting for the right time.”

“You know what they call that on the internet, don’t you?”

Linda sighed. “You know that I don’t, Joanie.”

“Stepcest!” Joanie said gleefully.

And that was it. That was all you could do. This fucking family. How– Why? You’d never done anything. You hadn’t even chosen to be here! And they still took so much joy in cutting you down. And if Linda managed to get to Ransom and tell him… Who knows what he’d do?

You moved as quietly as you could back down the hall, swiping at the tears beginning to gather in your eyes, hoping not to call any attention to yourself, when shouts suddenly erupted from the other side of the house. As soon as you recognized one of the raised voices as Ransom’s, you began to hurry in that direction. 

You hadn’t made it very far before he came barreling out in your direction. “Get your coat,” he growled. “We’re leaving.”

You didn’t argue, more than ready to get out of there yourself. You followed him to the closet, and then once you both had your coats, out the door. The crisp night air was bracing after feeling suffocated in that house for hours. Neither of you said anything as you got into Ransom’s car.

It wasn’t until you were fully off Harlan’s property that you felt brave enough to ask, “Is everything alright?”

He glanced at you before returning his eyes to the road and letting out a humorless chuckle. “Sure,” he said.

“What– What did he want to talk to you about?”

“Just his same old bullshit,” he scoffed.

“I–” you had no idea what to say. “Is it always like that?” You felt foolish as soon as you asked. Of course, it was. You could tell.

“Oh, no,” he said, and his tone was so cold, so detached, that you couldn’t help but stare. This felt like a brand new Ransom. “Sometimes it’s really bad.”

You didn’t say anything to that. You had no idea what to do with this sudden urge to comfort him, this man who had so much power over you, this man you couldn’t even say you liked most days. Especially after what you’d just been through. So you kept your hands in your lap and stared out the window.

After a few minutes of silence, he surprised you by being the one to break it. “So. I bet your family looks like the fucking Waltons compared to that.”

You thought of dinner with your own family. Joseph crowing loudly about his successes. Your mother cowering the moment any small thing went wrong. Steve getting into screaming matches with his father. You feeling invisible, on a good day. “No,” you said, hollowly. “Not really.” He turned his head sharply to look at you and you held his gaze for just a moment before he had to look back at the road. There was one large difference though. You’d always had Steve. As far as you could tell, Ransom didn’t have anyone.

That thought led you back to what you’d heard right before you’d left and your anxiety returned. “Steve and I–” you blurted out. “He’s my brother.”

Ransom’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, yeah, I am aware of that.”

You shook your head. “No, I just– I know we aren’t related biologically, but– Nothing’s ever happened between us. Not ever. He’s my brother.”

“What the fuck?!” he called out as he made a left turn more sharply than necessary. “Why would you–” he cut himself off. “Did someone say something to you?”

You ignored his question. “I just–” you said, “I just wanted you to hear it from me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. Neither of you said anything else for the rest of the drive.

When you got back to his house, Ransom went straight upstairs while you let Lola out one last time before bed. When you joined him in the bedroom once that was done, he was already in bed. “Listen,” he said softly, “I know you’re probably even more anxious about this whole thing after– I just, I’m really fucking tired. Is it ok if we don’t– If we just go to bed?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. You were just as tired and didn’t think you could deal with all that after everything else that had happened that day. You quickly went through your nighttime routine in the bathroom. When you came back out once you’d finished, you found Ransom still awake, lying on his back staring at the ceiling. Lola was curled up at his side and he absently scratched her belly. You climbed into bed and turned the lamp off, turning onto your side. You felt him move behind you, scooting closer, not enough that you were touching at all, but you could feel his body heat. It was oddly soothing. You closed your eyes and hoped sleep would come fast, ready for this day to be over.

Tag list is open

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[colorfullyminded]

TLDR

Okay I cannot believe I'm about to go off like this, but this has been bothering me for awhile, and it's only making me more spiteful. I have been enjoying the influx of Billford art lately. Amazing, great wonderful. What I have Not been enjoying, is the absolute vitriol the Billdip fans have been getting since the influx of TBOB. I was a billdip shipper for awhile. Hell I was a billdip shipper when I was a Parapines shipper-- I liked shipping Dipper with boys. I was also like 14 or 15 at the time. Obviously, if you follow me now, you'll probably notice what my main ship for Dipper is. I grew out of Billdip, and moved on to Pinescone. I have been shipping Pinescone for 10 years. However, not once did I go around saying "Lol, glad I matured and became a better person and shipped something healthier", nor did I post in the billdip tag, condeming people for a fictional ship! And saying mine was better because it was less problematic.

"I'm really glad people stopped shipping Bill and Dipper together. Bill is a 1000 year old triangle demon, and Dipper is 13--" Stop. Repeat what you just said.

"Bill is 1000 year old triangle--"

Repeat that last word to me. "....triangle?" TRIANGLE! I'm sorry what?! This ship is already completely wild enough. You're getting mad at this fictional age gap-- AND BILL IS A FUCKING SHAPE! A FUCKING SHAPE! This ship was weird from the moment GO! And Billford isn't any better. IT'S STILL A SHIP WITH A FUCKING SHAPE! And you're going to sit on your high horse and look down on the Billdip community. On top of it-- they have an age gap too! Bill is still thousands of years old or whatever-- however long it's been, who knows? And Ford was in his 20s or so when he met Bill. That's still a huge, ridiculous age gap-- that Bill could easily use and manipulate; which he did....and then also caught feelings and became a sad ex, but that's beside the point~ Both of these ships are still insane. And again, the bigger thing I think people are just ignoring about these ships--is that Bill is a TRIANGLE! THREE LINES CONNECTED TOGETHER! And this is the hill you're going to die on? ...Cause apparently it's mine. First of all-- as many people pointed out-- Ford Pines did not exist until the second half of the final season. People couldn't ship Fordbill because there wasn't any Ford to introduce.

"Well, even before Ford, I never shipped Billdip! I always disliked it." ...Okay, that's totally fine. Not everyone needs to like or agree on the same ship. Lord knows there's probably people who don't really care for Pinescone either. There's a lot of popular ships that I can't stand. But I'm don't go into a ship tag I don't like, screaming to a void for self validation. I don't go around mocking other people for ships that they had in 2014-- or even still today! It doesn't matter! I did that when I was a kid-- and then realized that was rude, and it was better to just ignore the ships I didn't like and enjoy the ones that made me happy. And grow a community of kind, like minded friends. And listen, I am all for safe spaces and being able to block things that make you uncomfortable. I am not saying people who find the BillDip ship uncomfortable to be idiots or babies or overly sensitive-- or anything like that. I think if something makes you uncomfortable, that is okay and I think it's perfectly fine to blacklist a tag that you don't want to see. I also think it's imperative that people tag things as accurately as they can so people looking at your work can know if one of your pieces has a thing that they don't like-- and therefore can avoid. What I don't appreciate is the fanhate for this ship that is sprouting up like weeds. You can not like something, you can be disgusted by it (I have my Gravity Falls ships I can not stand, nor do I feel comfortable with), but attacking real people for a FICTIONAL SHIP-- two characters who are drawings on a piece of paper and can not be affected mentally, physically or emotionally by fanwork; who still retain the same shape after everything we put them through-- to the point that you send death threats, or threaten to Doxx, or just harass relentlessly, I have always found that more childish and disgusting. You are causing real world pain to people. Me fucking up Dipper Pines is not going to do anything to him-- because he doesn't actually exist. He's a cartoon character. I could squash him and stretch him in Wonka's taffy machine--- I could throw him mock speed at a wall and watch him explode on impact-- but he still exists. He's not dead; I can pick him up and dust him off, and If I wanted-- I could decide that eh, 'Not a scratch on him'. And I'd be right. Because he is a cartoon character, and I am just a fangirl. I can not change anything about him-- I have no ability to make anything I headcanon canon. And even if I was the original artist-- it doesn't change the fact that Dipper would still be nothing more than a creation. A construct of shapes; he can not be hurt or traumatized in a way that leads to real life consequences-- because he is not real. I am not a cartoon character. My friends are not cartoon characters. Artist and Writers who stay in their lane...are not cartoon characters. If you hurt us...it will linger. It will leave a scar. If you can not tell the difference between Fiction and Reality, then I think maybe media might be too much to handle-- and I think you need to really reevaluate yourself.

And just to vent some other things that i keep seeing that are frustrating: You can't claim the twins are only 13-- and then on August 31st go "Happy 20-something Birthday Mabel and Dipper!" And then proceed to drop a picture of them as adults. Well which is it? Do they age or not? Because Gravity Falls showed them canonically aging. If you think the twins age-- then you can't suddenly turn around and go, 'no you can't ship them-- Dipper is a child!' but you drew him as an adult. So sorry, it looks like you can't draw the twins grown up anymore. You claimed they're 13, so better draw them 13 forever--. Aged up stories and works exist for a reason, especially for a fan who grew up on the series. The characters might have grown up alongside them. It's not unlikely for a person to ship Billdip when Dipper is much older.

And on that note, for people who are like 'well older billdip is fine-- it's just people shipping him during the show that deserve to die.' Okay... and like I said, this rant is coming from a recent influx of Billford shippers spitting on Billdip shippers. You know? The TOXIC Old Man Yaoi!

You're still shipping something that is problematic. You are still shipping something twisted and wrong. And I am not judging you. I am here for this divorced arc. I am thriving. But you can't just pick and choose what is and isn't okay. And let me first off explain; if there is something that personally triggers you about a toxic ship, and you want to avoid that-- again, perfectly understandable. Perfectly reasonable. You are the makers of your content space. And I am not judging anyone for that. I want people to be safe. I want people to have a good time in fandom spaces. I want people to not have to deal with the things that upset them or frighten them, or disgust them. But you can not say one is fine, and one is not. They're both bad! They're both toxic. In real life, these ships would both be charged with serious crimes! And yes, there are some crimes that are worse than others, and if you asked me what I thought was more problematic-- I'd say Billdip-- but both of these ships are extreme, and severe in their problematic content. You are still consuming problematic content. If it's a personal thing, that's fine; avoid it. But don't sit there throwing stones from your glass house.

[lavandaea]

smooth talker, powerful supernatural beings who are fluent in sarcasm and graduated from insufferable school being in love absolutely fucking whipped will always be my kind of thing.

I'm actually feral for that concept. Fight me if you dare.

Plus points if their partner it's as strong minded and colorful vocabularied/ eloquent as them.

Plus plus points if it's a love-hate relationship, full of bickering and unwanted feelings, DENIAL.

PLUS PLUS PLUS if they are a sad broken black cat (or smug orange, I won't complain) like who has lost all faith in humanity and could not care less about anything than themselves but actually the only thing they want more is some love and hugs and kisses. This being with or without their knowledge.

And then, their partner comes into their lives like saying "let me remind you how wonderful existing it's"

"Because I love you!"

"wait, WHY AM I JEALOUS?"

"what in the name of FUCK IS THIS APPARENTLY NAMED FEELING"

"Me?" points at themselves "with them?" looks at them doing the most weirdest thing. "Nah, there's no way".

"Who did this to you?" AAAAAAAAAAAA

The unbeatable "you are useful to me for this reason"/ I'm keeping you alive for this reason". At first it's true, BUT time goes on...and feelings are developed, they start using it as an excuse to protect them, to keep them close. To hide the undeniable truth.

UNTIL. THEY. DON'T. It's the moment they just want to be with them an have absolutely no fucks to give about what anyone says about it. They love this person and they want to make them happy.

It will always, always, always melt my heart the moment when A and B are looking at something really pretty, really nice and A says or asks "It's beautiful"/"Isn't it beautiful?"

And B that at first may have been looking at it says:

"Yes"

And then turns to A with that look of "I've loved you since the day I met you" to continue with

"It's beautiful"

I'll tell you, it never gets old for me.

PAST LIVES

SLOW. BURN.

SHARING HOUSE

SHARING BED

PARTNERS IN CRIME

TENDING WOUNDS

HAVING👏 EACH OTHER'S 👏 BACKS

THE ABSOLUTE LOOSERISM. I already kinda said it, but this is important shit.

GOING FEEERAL FOR THEIR LOVED ONE BEING HURT/ IN DANGER/ LOOKING FOR THEM (if I'm feral for this whole trope, I'm feral, for this one in particular) bonus points if glowing eyes, then you got me. Entirely.

Being a soft squishy ball full of love but only with them. Fuck everyone else.

The two kinds of looks:

"Oh shit, I'm in love with you" look.

"I love being in love with you" look.

Please do and recommend more of these kinds of shows/films/comics, I will never have enough of them.

Oh, the hopeless romantic in me.

[mysticmoaning]

Tension II - rab

Description:

Regulus decides to apologise and you accept in a very gracious way.

Warnings:

Big angst / Use of 'mudblood' / Fingers in V / V Penetration / Virgin!Regulus

A/N:

This is not what I originally planned for this part two, but I guess that can be expected after such a long time between, sorry!!! I hope you enjoy the Big Feelings, Sad Boi Regulus, and Virgin!Regulus. Sorry about the ending, I want to keep this going cause I have some ideas and it was necessary unfortunately.

After your experience on the train, Regulus had become all but non-existent in your life. Your meeting with the muggle-born first years (where he gritted out the speech he left you to write and practically spat on the new wizard and witches' abilities) was the last time you'd seen him, save for the occasional glimpse around Hogwarts.

Whatever. You had better things to do than fool around with such a close-minded prick like him. No matter that the feeling of your own fingers had become a shadow compared to the memory of his scissoring inside you. Fuck...

Stop. You'd get over him eventually. It's not like you liked him, you just...no.

You tried to focus on detangling the knots in your hair as you yanked it out of its bun, wincing at your accidental aggressiveness. It was just your luck that you'd had a quidditch match today. Regulus had been wearing those tight pants under his quidditch robes and your thoughts had drifted towards how difficult it would be to slip your hand down them, costing you a goal.

Lost in the memory, you didn't hear the footsteps until whoever was right behind you. You jumped, having stayed late to have the place to yourself and wondering who the hell had come to disturb you. At the sight of Regulus, you gasped.

"What are you doing here?" You snapped.

He looked ghostly pale, his damp hair combed back and beginning to curl. Noticing his uniform, you realised you were in your bra and underwear, believing everyone to have vacated the showers.

Good. Maybe you could make him squirm.

His eyes flickered down your body before resting on the floor, his cheeks quickly growing red. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and you smirked in understanding as to why. Well, he couldn't deny his attraction to you.

"Why the nerves, Black? Thought you hated me..." You turned to put your brush down on the bench beside you, head quickly swivelling back when you heard him mumble something under his breath. "What?"

He glanced up, eyes catching on your lacy bra before meeting yours. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"I said, I don't hate you."

You stared in disbelief. What was he on about?

"Merlin, you had me fooled." You stood, taking a step towards him with your hands on your hips. "Pushing me away as soon as your fingers left my pussy," his adam's apple bobbed nervously and he glanced away, "Then ignoring me for the past two weeks like nothing even happened. And don't think I didn't understand your nastiness with the muggle-born first years being meant for me."

He looked at you then, eyes flicking between your own. His lips parted and then closed. A pink flash of tongue wet them, the fresh shine giving you thoughts of other ways he could use them.

Fuck, why was it so hard to be around him?

He sighed deeply, ran a hand through his hair, and then sat defeatedly on the bench behind him. You nearly asked if he was alright but held your ground.

"I-" He glanced at you before fixing his gaze on the tile, apparently the only way he could say whatever it was that was bothering him. "I don't hate you. And....and I'm sorry."

You stared at him hard, in shock. Had a Black ever said sorry in their lifetime? Sitting back down was the only response you could muster.

The corner of his mouth quirked like he understood your confusion before quickly resuming its downward position. The wrinkles already forming on either side made it clear he was used to the expression.

"Listen, I...I was embarrassed." He glanced at you quickly before looking away. "I'm....I've never...I had never..."

"You're a virgin?" The words left your mouth before you could stop them. He gave an almost imperceptible nod. What were you hearing right now? You had your suspicions but never in a million years did you think them to be true. Just looking at him, you couldn't process that no one had tried to get close enough to him to get him into bed.

Flashing back over the memory from the train, certain things began to jump out at you. His nervousness. How he thought you were in pain when you threw your head back in pleasure. The way he groaned into your shoulder when you....

"Holy shit, you came!" You didn't mean to practically yell it, your hand flying over your mouth.

His eyes were round saucers as he stared at you, cheeks growing impossibly red.

"Y/N, please..." The shine in his eyes made you freeze. "Please don't tell anyone."

You moved to sit beside him.

"Regulus, why would I tell anyone?" His head was in his hands now. He glanced over at you.

"What do you want?" You furrowed your brow in confusion. He studied your face for a moment. "You're not going to tell..." You shook your head, "So what do you want in return?"

"What?" You couldn't understand his thought process for a moment. Then it clicked. Everyone in his life always wanted something in return for treating him with decency. Nothing came free for him...

You had always been conflicted about Regulus. A shitty family can't totally excuse bad behaviour, but this...Merlin, fitting in with his family was about survival. Sirius had gotten out, sure, but you'd never heard anything about him trying to help Regulus. His only connection to a better, less hateful world had left him behind.

"Regulus," You slide your fingers into his, pulling his hand away from his face and into your lap. He looked at you and then away, obviously waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I don't want anything from you. I'm not going to tell anyone because that's our private business and no one else deserves to know. That's the least you deserve."

He glanced back at you, eyes flickering over the details of your face. His lips silently mimed 'our' and the corners of his mouth started to curve upwards.

You couldn't help it, all the tension from the past two weeks, the anger, and this loaded conversation, wore down your resolve. Plus, you were beginning to think maybe you didn't hate Regulus after all.

You kissed him, his lips just as soft and welcoming as on the train. He involuntarily moaned into your mouth and you smiled.

His fingers, impossibly gentle, ghosted over your exposed thigh. You angled yourself towards him and moved his hand around to your hip. He pulled away with a soft gasp, eyes searching your face.

"I don't know..."

You paused immediately, gripping his hand in yours and holding it chastely away from your body.

"We don't have to do anything, Reg. I want you to be comfortable."

He shook his head quickly, a smile like sunshine lighting his face and making your stomach flip. "No, I want to. Merlin, do I want to..." His thick brows knitted a cloud that cast a shadow over his face. "It's just...since I've never...I don't know how long I'm going to last. I mean, you didn't even touch me last time and..."

He looked to you shyly.

"Hey," You moved his hand back to your hip and his eyes tracked the movement, darkening as his skin made contact with the plump flesh just briefly covered by the band of your underwear. "We all have to start somewhere."

This time, he leaned in to connect your lips. You revelled in this subtle show of confidence and the way he flicked his tongue against yours.

"You're so beautiful," He whispered against your lips, his fingers teasing the edges of your underwear. "I've always thought so."

You pulled away enough to look into his eyes, realising suddenly that they were the deepest of blues, not black like you thought. He stared back, a nervous smile on his lips.

You studied his face. His lashes were thick like his brows, black and shadowy around his eyes. He had pinprick freckles over his nose and on the highest points of his cheeks. The bow of his lips was so perfectly formed you couldn't help but lean in to kiss him again.

He kissed back, more firmly this time. You felt the heat too, the urgency that was beginning to rise between you. His fingers dug into your hip and you sighed into his mouth in response. He took this as a good sign, moving his hand around to palm at your ass. You put your hand over his and squeezed so he'd grab you, not giving him the time to question as you slung one leg over his to straddle him.

He stared at you in awe and you felt the bulge in his pants harden further. You held his face in your hands, fingers spread over his cheeks, and ground your hips into him. His eyes rolled back with his head as he groaned out at the feeling.

"Is this okay?" You confirmed and his hands flew to your hips, gripping tightly.

"Merlin, yes," He just managed to slit his eyes to look at you, pupils blown so you could hardly see the rim of blue around them. You smirked down at him, keeping your eyes locked on his as you began to unzip his pants and pull him out of his boxers. He cursed as you gripped him in your hand, gently beginning to stroke him. "Fuck, I don't know that I'm even going to make it inside you, Y/N."

You laughed as he quirked his lips, smiling apologetically.

Deciding not to tease him any further, you slipped your underwear to the side and ran the head of his cock quickly through your dripping folds. Regulus cried out at the feeling but you swallowed the sound with your mouth, kissing him as you slowly lowered yourself onto him.

You moaned as his considerable girth stretched you out, his own sounds of pleasure already signalling that he was close. Rocking slowly against his hips, you focused on the friction of your clit rubbing against him. He gripped your hips so hard you were sure he'd leave bruises and you knew he was using all of his self control not to cum.

You quickened your pace and he gasped into your mouth. Pulling away, you moved your lips to his ear, giving a soft bite to shell of it. He groaned and his hands moved down to your thighs, still holding on like his life depended on it.

"Let go, Reg. I wanna hear how good it feels." You whispered into his ear. The flutter of your breath on his neck and the words you spoke sent him quickly careening over the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N!" He cried out, his head thrown back as his cock twitched inside of you with each thick stream of cum. You kissed along his exposed neck, slowing your movements as his quick, heavy breaths began to calm.

When he was nearly recovered, he raised his head to look at you, his cheeks flushed. He moved his hand between your bodies and rubbed his thumb over your clit, making you gasp.

"Shit, Reg, you don't-" He caught your lips in his, bucking his hips up gently as he rubbed generous circles on your clit. You moaned into him, his still-hard cock thrusting into you making the fire that already burned in your belly begin to spread.

He started to kiss your exposed chest, sucking at the skin of your breasts. When he began to soften inside you, he quickly replaced himself with the fingers of his other hand, working them faster until you were a cursing mess on top of him.

Momentarily abandoning your clit, he used his free hand to pull down half your bra, latching onto the exposed nipple with his tongue and bringing you to your breaking point.

You cried out his name as you rocked through your orgasm, falling onto him and trying to regain your breath once the waves of pleasure passed.

Finally, you pulled yourself up to look Regulus in the eyes. He smiled softly, cheeks still pink in pleasure.

His brows rose slightly, lips parting to expose a sliver of his perfect, white teeth. You moved off him and he quickly zipped himself up while you fixed your bra.

"So..." He began, nervous once again, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his sweater. "This doesn't mean anything, right?"

You stared at him in disbelief. What? His features began to darken, his eyes trained on the floor again.

"I can't...." He swallowed. "I can't be anything to you. I mean, my parents can't know. No one can know..." He trailed off softly.

"What?" You were growing angry. What did that mean? "God, Regulus, seriously? Since I'm not some close-minded, pureblood scumbag you can't be associated with me? Fuck off."

He stood quickly and moved towards you while you hurried to get dressed.

"Y/N, I can't. You don't understand-"

"I don't understand?"

"No, I've got...responsibilities. You don't-"

He cut himself off with a gasp as you stepped to him and yanked up his sleeve, revealing the offensive black ink branded into his skin. "What don't I understand, Regulus? I think it's perfectly clear. I don't fit into your tiny, fucked up world. You can't play the perfect Death Eater for mommy and daddy and fuck a dirty mudblood at the same time. Does that about sum it up?"

You stormed out before he could answer, ignoring the pain in your chest and the tears beginning to spill over onto your cheeks.

[unforgettwble-sumii]

KISS ME — A . F

(Amber Freeman x fem!reader 📖)

⭐ Amber gives you an accidental kiss infront of your friends.

⭐ Warnings ‼️: ooc! Amber (?), swearing, I don't know anything about gaming, Ghostface does not exist, still haven't watched Scream bcs all the killing will make me sad lmfao, not proof read!

⭐ word count: 699

a/n: I am willing to do anything for Amber Freeman. Also I was listening to Clarity while writing this, I low-key felt high.

—

The sound of the television and soft laughing could be heard in the background as Amber was sipping a mug of coffee. It was around 6 a.m in the morning and for some reason, everyone was awake.

Not that you had a problem with it, infact, you absolutely loved it. Everyone all huddled up in your apartment and making stupid jokes to pass time; it made you warm and soft inside.

This past week everyone has been staying in your apartment, and seeing them every morning made you feel safe—not from anyone or anything in particular, but you just liked the feeling seeing everyone all together.

"Here, drink this." Sam, who just came from the kitchen, handed you a mug of coffee.

You gave her a smile and softly thanked her; earning a smile from the older woman in return.

"It's decaf coffee, by the way." She added, plopping on the blue bean bag beside the couch, taking a sip of her own coffee before changing her gaze to the television.

"By the way, why are you guys awake at this hour? Especially you Chad. You'd still be asleep due to the amount of alcohol you drank at last night's party." Mindy stated, eyeing her twin brother.

While everyone else was answering Mindy's question, you glanced at Amber who gave you a smile and motioned for you to sit beside her.

You happily obliged and sat beside her. Amber snaking an arm over your shoulder.

Keeping the relationship between you and Amber a secret was harder than you thought; often forgetting that you and Amber kept it a secret.

Coming out to the people you love was a big yet an important thing to do, you just wasn't sure when to tell them or how they would react.

Amber softly rubbed circles on your shoulder, pulling you closer as if you already weren't as close as possible.

"How was your sleep?" She asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Could've been better." You sighed, resting your head on her shoulder.

Everyone, other than you and Amber, had shifted their attention to the screen and the two infront of them; Mindy and Chad, who were currently playing Mario kart.

'Who the hell plays Mario kart at 6 in the fucking morning?' you questioned yourself. You shook your head, discarding the question.

In the midst of the chaos; laughing, giggling, and the sounds of the controller clicking, Amber leaned closer to your face and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

This had caught you off guard, and apparently, your friends too. They all looked at Amber as if she was on fire, eyes wide and mouth agape. Absolute shock washed their face. No words exchanged, just dead silence as you tried to compose a sentence.

"Ok, what the fuck." Tara broke the silence, shocked as everyone else.

You tried to speak, yet failing miserably as you couldn't even form a sentence.

"I knew it. I fucking knew it." Mindy put a hand over her mouth, "pay up fucker." She said, looking at Chad, her smile clear as day.

Chad grumbled as he dug through his pocket to fish out a $20 dollar bill.

Mindy laughed at her brother's defeat, but a serious expression soon plastered her face as she realized you had been hiding your relationship with Amber this whole time.

"You two have been dating this whole time, and didn't think to tell us?!" Tara scoffed, arms folded infront of her chest.

You apologized, "I didn't know how to say it, I'm sorry T, and everyone else." You looked down, not really sure what to say now.

A giggle could be heard beside you. Amber, was laughing her ass off, as if making fun of her friends for not knowing.

You softly hit her chest and giving her a look before she cleared her throat then spoke.

"Yeah, we've been dating for 3 months now."

The sounds of laughing and scoffing soon erupted, lighting up the atmosphere.

Turns out, they didn't really mind. Knowing how hard coming out is, they get where you came from. And in the end, it all worked out well, for you and Amber at least. Chad? not really.

— ⭐ ©unforgettwble-sumii's work. Pls do not repost, steal modify, or translate.

[aangarchy]

Alright. I've rewatched the trailer like 20 times by now and i've been processing it.

First things first: anyone that's gonna talk shit about Gordon Cormier is gonna have to go through me first. I've only had Gordon!Aang for a day and a half and if anything happens to him i'll kill everyone here and then myself got it?

Just look at him! This is the exact big eared cute little kid i wanted them to cast for Aang. He looks adorable and honestly his outfit is growing on me.

The glowing arrow looked cool as hell. I like that the light spread through his tattoo almost like veins. I'm still curious on how the full avatar state is gonna look, how they're gonna get the glowing eye effect. Please don't let it look goofy.

Y'know what does look goofy?

Is it better than the m night shyamalan appa? I guess. Does that mean it looks good? Well.... at least momo sort of looks cute instead of some folklore nightmare like in shyamalan's version. But also you can tell in this shot in particular that it's very green screen-y

Then we go over to the bending, the limited shots we have of it. Mainly firebending was shown (a little airbending too but kinda hard to get a stillframe for that one)

Idk how to feel about it. In screenshots it looks alright but the shots while they were moving looked a bit off, especially the one where zuko's kicking. We only got very limited shots and that's intentional. I feel like the bigger cgi fails are gonna show up once we get the full show. If the bending looked good all the time i feel like they'd be showing it off by now.

What i don't like, is how apparently they're gonna SHOW Zuko getting burned. Like sure in atla they didn't bc kids show and Nickelodeon wouldn't allow it, and netflix can take darker turns if they so please. But i personally always felt that scene made so much impact because we didn't see it. Iroh is telling it from his memory and he didn't look when it happened, so we don't see it either. It's like a courtesy the show extends to both Zuko and the audience. We just hear the harrowing scream, and that's enough to know how devastating it is. I don't need a dramatic overlook so we can see the whole thing in detail, netflix.

Another thing is the hair in some scenes.

Daniel dae kim looked better in that promo photo, bc here you can just see how the bulky goatie was glued on. And then Sokka's hair..... where's the ponytail? It's laying completely flat against his head... why? Is it bc that's Ian's hair and they didn't know what to do with it? Literally get a comb and tease that bitch. This is like the complete opposite of Jackson Rathbone's hair in the shyamalan version, and somehow that full maybelline ponytail makes more sense than this sad excuse of a tail. Either way at least Suki looked dope.

Another thing i found weird about the trailer is the narration. I think it's either Iroh's voice or maybe Gyatso's? (I haven't heard Iroh's actor talk yet so idk, but it felt like it was being said TO either Aang or Zuko) but the lines they gave him... it felt like some weird mumbo jumbo tbh. Something something about the past and present being the same and it's up to us to know the difference and be the difference? It's saying everything and nothing at the same time and it felt kind of out of place. They're probably saving the iconic opening narration done by Katara for the full trailer (i hope???) but still they could have just gone with music, or maybe just a few iconic existing lines?

The music? Fire. Nothing needs to be added there. Was i kind of hoping for a different soundtrack? Maybe a bit. But am i mad? Not at all. They clearly took the nostalgia route with the more epic version of the avatar theme, and i can only respect them for that.

So far, very mixed reviews for me. I'm morbidly curious and very nosy by nature though, so i'm absolutely watching.

[swagsauce23]

i've never been in love before (now all at once it's you)

Pairing/s: Jirou Kyouka x jazz!Reader

Summary: Jirou finds the silence of the night unbearable to sleep through, Bakugo invites her to a place everyone in UA has apparently known about except her.

Content: 6.1k words, mild hurt w comfort, sad themes, fluff too tbh, bakugo uses gay as an insult jokingly, “im gon kms” jokes, they/them for reader, mentions of reader’s parents, takes place post-war arc, jirou+bakugo siblingship cuz i said so

A/N: chat not proofread + i have not written in months + and i havent touched mha in YEARS!!! soz cuz this is pretty long part 2 coming in as soon as i actually finish it LOL

The silence is deafening for Jirou.

She shuffles onto her right side, the bandage covering the (non-existing?) half of her left ear slightly stings as it’s exposed to the chilly air of the night. The sounds of blankets and pillows shifting against her right ear provides little comfort against the booming quiet.

She doesn’t hear the others downstairs cheering as Satou brings his homemade snacks for movie night. She doesn’t hear the shouts and video game noises across from Denki’s dorm. Doesn’t hear Mina gossiping in Hagakure’s room that’s down the hall. 

She doesn’t hear Midoriya training just outside the building, having been moved to a more safer facility in the school grounds for his injuries, nor does she hear Aoyama’s faint classical music in the floor below her, having refused to return to 1A since it’s been discovered that he’s— 

Jirou suddenly feels dizzy.

She sits up in her bed, hands gripping onto the blanket over her lap as burning chills suddenly appear through her one earphone jack. She pushes the blanket away, shivering as she stands up from her bed to make way outside of her dorm. 

She’s slightly surprised to see the kitchen lights turned on once she makes her way downstairs. Turning a corner, she looks and sees who’d be awake at the dead of night. 

With the kettle bubbling in the background, Bakugo has his elbows leaned against the counter, brows furrowed as he fiddles with what seems to be some sort of small device in his hands.

“Bakugo?” Jirou says, interrupting him from his deep trance. He snaps his head in her direction, a small sound of surprise coming out of him, eyes wide, startled, as if he didn’t seem to notice Jirou standing there, eye bags on her face as she uses one arm to steady herself against a kitchen wall.

“God, it’s just you.” He sighs, tiredness evident in his voice, turning his head back with his hand rubbing at his temple. “Why are you up?” She asks, taking a seat on one of the chairs near the kitchen island that’s between her and Bakugo as he tsks at the small device in his hand and pockets it in his jacket.

“It’s too fuckin’ loud.” He cryptically says and Jirou gives him a weird look. It’s been quiet all night even with the state of her ears. It’s too quiet, she thinks.

Jirou only hums, doesn’t push any more as the tiredness seems to suddenly seep in. She stares at the kettle beside him. “What are you making?” Jirou asks, following his eyes towards the boiling water machine. She feels normal again, asking Bakugo what he’s making.  

“It’s just for the noise.” He dryly answers, his eyes squinting as if in annoyance as the sounds from the kettle get quieter. Jirou’s eyes finally land on his attire, only noticing the unusual attire the blonde is wearing that one usually wouldn’t wear at this time of night. She thought that he’d be wearing full-on silk bed robes with how tired he also seemed to look.

“You’re goin’ somewhere?” Jirou asks again subconsciously, eyes focused on the kettle as silence quickly fills the air as the machine comes to a quiet. Bakugo turns to her with frustration. “Awfully curious, ay?” He snaps, with almost an edge to his voice. Jirou looks back at him and immediately puts on an apologetic look upon seeing the blonde’s face that’s littered with tired marks and scars. “Sorry.” She says, looking away and putting her focus on the marble island in front of her. 

“No, I— Ugh, fuckin’ hell.” Bakugo complains, guilt seeping in with the exhaustion in his tone. He roughly rubs his temple before leaning across the counter and turning the kettle on again. Turning back against the counter again, tense and stiff, heaving as he rubs his hands against the black coat he’s wearing. 

The reappearing noises of the kettle comfortingly takes up the space for the two young heroes. 

Beat. 

Beat.

“What about you?” He asks so quietly that Jirou barely catches it. “What?” She looks back up at him, “Why are you awake, dumbass.” He repeats with a familiar groan. Jirou snorts, “Can’t sleep, you know, it’s, I—” She starts before pausing when her hand comes up to lean up against the left side of her face. She pauses, not noticing Bakugo's empathetic look

“I’m goin’ out.” He says, interrupting her from her silence as she looks back up at him.

“To, meet someone.” What? 

“At this time?” She raises an eyebrow, “What are you— you doing drugs or something, dude?” She jokes, Bakugo scoffs, a small smile on his face. “Fuck you. No, I’m goin’ to the Midnight Lounge.” He retorts.

“Midnight Lounge? That sounds like a bar.” Jirou says, eyebrow raising higher at Bakugo. “That’s ‘cause it is, idiot.” He says, as if it’s common knowledge, up until he takes in the look of confusion and suspicion on Jirou’s face.

“You know we’re underaged, right?” She accuses with an amused smile.

“Not really a bar anymore since rebranding but,” Bakugo quickly comes to defend himself, “It’s a jazz bar, but don’t act stupid— Everyone knows it’s more of a diner than a bar, ears.”

Jirou ignores his nickname for her, still looking at him with a face of increased confusion. “..Have you not been there before?” Bakugo asks slowly, as if asking if someone knows how to breathe oxygen.

“This is like, my first time hearing of this, jazz-diner-bar, dude.”

Bakugo is taken aback. “You haven’t been to Midnight Lounge?” He asks again, as if it would change Jirou’s answer as she shakes her head no, “Used to be called Mighty Melodies?” Bakugo clarifies and Jirou continues to shake her head in confusion.

“You fuckin’ serious with me right now?” He asks again, and Jirou is concerned with how insistent he is with making sure that Jirou has absolutely never, ever heard or taken a foot inside this Midnight or Mighty Melodies Lounge place he’s talking about.

“Dude, what the hell are you on?” She asks jokingly, but not really. “What the hell are you on?” Bakugo retorts back before taking a good look at her with squinted eyes, like he’s trying to dissect what’s happening under Jirou’s brain.

“Come with me.” He says.

“What?” Jirou looks at him as if he chopped off her other earphone jack.

“Go back to your room and get dressed, idiot. Come with me.” He repeats, clearly annoyed.

“It’s late.” 

“Neither of us are goin’ back to sleep anytime soon, nerd. We’re old enough to skip bedtime.” He argues. “Seriously, go get a jacket or somethin’ and we’ll go.” He adds when he notices Jirou’s skeptical look.

“Hurry the fuck up before I throw my sweat at you and make you explode!” He threatens, raising his voice as he puts up one hand to make small sparks to add to the antic.

Jirou laughs before getting up and raising her hands in surrender, “Okay, okay! I’ll go!” She says before quickly making her way back up to her dorm.

Bakugo looks at her retreating form and lets out a small amused huff, shaking his head before letting his ears focus on the bubbling from the kettle.

-

The air is colder outside compared to Jirou’s room as she and Bakugo walk the streets of a small part of the city near the school, towards whatever place Bakugo was insistent on bringing Jirou along.

“What are you even doing in a place like that, Bakugo?” Jirou asks, mist coming out of her mouth as winter is just right around the corner. 

“Weren’t you listening? Told ‘ya I had someone to meet over there.” Bakugo replies, Jirou hums before tucking further into her purple and black striped scarf. “Gotta get somethin’ from ‘em. Shitty ear aid broke.” He adds. Jirou’s both surprised and in awe he seems okay with talking about what should be such a somewhat sensitive topic with her. 

“Might fuckin’ help you too or somethin’, I don’t fuckin’ know.” He mutters, more quietly than ever but Jirou manages to just catch it. Her boots pause with a dumbfounded look at her face but quickly go back to walking when Bakugo turns on a corner of the street. 

She walks beside him as they both stand in front of a tall, but humble building. Warm lights gleam from the inside as the sound of soft jazz fills the air. A wooden sign engraved with the words Midnight Lounge hangs above the entrance door.

Jirou stands there admiring the atmosphere, focusing on the music that’s flowing through and the details she’s trying so hard to pick apart. She snaps from her trance when a bell jingles over the door Bakugo opens.

Jirou and Bakugo enter the building, the former looks around the establishment as she trails behind the blonde as he leads them into a small booth in a corner near the front door. Jirou sees about 5 or 6 groups of people occupying the tables on the main floor, with several people on their own taking refuge near what seems to be the bar area, although the chalkboard menus filled with all sorts of dishes and drinks suggest otherwise.

“This is like, peak atmosphere.” Jirou comments as they sit down, her eyes finally landing on the big stage that’s placed on the far end of the establishment where a live band is playing. 

“It’s— just like, right around the corner too. How the hell have I not been here?” Jirou says, looking back at Bakugo who’s taking off his coat, revealing the warm orange sweater he’s wearing. “You fuckin’ tell me,” He starts, “Almost everyone in our class knows about this place, y’know.” 

Jirou looks at him with wide eyes, “For real? Didn’t know you guys hated me like that.” She jokes, “You said it, not me.” Bakugo snickers. “Ass.” Jirou lets out a small smile before turning her gaze back to the stage. “Nobody told the little runt about this, if that helps.” Bakugo adds.

“Little runt? Mineta? Jesus, Bakugo.” Jirou sighs while a small snort comes from Bakugo. She shakes her head, eyes observing the different musicians in the band, her eyes following the pianist who stands up from his instrument and onto the stage where the microphone is, “So where’s this friend that you’re supposed to meet?”  

“Can’t fuckin’ wait a little? Shut up, it’s ‘boutta start.” Jirou turns back to him to give him an unamused look when all of the sudden, the lights inside the building start to dim.

A spotlight is cast upon the stage, highlighting the pianist Jirou was just eyeing earlier. A man with slick-back brown hair, with an impressive moustache adjusts his bowtie before tapping the mic once, twice then three times.

“Good evening, folks. Welcome to the Midnight Lounge.” He starts, a smooth, buttery voice coming out of him that catches everyone’s attention in the room. “We’re about to start our last and final performance, with a special guest that I’m sure many of us admire!” A few people clap and whoop, “So sit back, relax, and enjoy the rest of the night.” The man goes back and takes his seat again on the piano and Jirou takes this opportunity to look back at Bakugo.

“Was that him? You looking for ways to grow a moustache?” Jirou jokes and Bakugo lightly shoves her to turn back to the stage, “Shut up, idiot. Watch the perfor—” Applauds and cheers from the rest of the establishment quickly cut Bakugo off as Jirou tries to look back to see who’s the special guest on stage—

A soft, delicate voice comes and cuts through the crowd, their cheers quiet down as the piano picks up and the drums softly blend into the singing voice. Jirou looks at the other patrons as they nod their head to the music, conversations stopped as some take the time to admire the singer on the stage. 

She sneaks a peek at Bakugo who’s completely entranced, his previously rigid and tight stance completely melted away. She knew by the way his eyes almost seem to share the same look every time he’d practice the drums every rehearsal during the sports festival. It looks like he’d fall asleep any moment now.

Her eyes are redirected to you. Words barely comprehended and processed as a  saxophone solo comes into the song, all she could do was sit mesmerized as you share smiles with the musicians on stage, sitting on a wooden stool that’s propped near the microphone. When your voice returns to sing, she thinks she'll be okay with staying in that moment forever. 

She can hear the hi-hats and the soft sounds of a brush against the drums, the different chords from the piano, each and every note from the saxophone rings so clearly in her ears. She can hear your voice so clearly, like light at the end of the tunnel. For a moment, it feels like she can finally have a good night’s rest.

A moment that passes too quickly for her liking. 

All of a sudden, the saxophone plays its last note, the piano softly blending back into silence, your voice lasts just a little bit longer, until that ends too. The silence that fills the space your voice once taken has never felt so comforting to Jirou before.

A small beat passes, before the patrons in the store all cheer. The lights slowly turn back on and shine a light of warmness across the room. You stand up from your chair and bow, dragging the other band members with you as well.

Jirou barely registers that the performance has ended until Bakugo snaps his fingers in front of her. “Oi, emo. Pay attention.” He says with a smug smirk on his face, the tight tension has returned to his body, but Jirou thinks it looks evidently more relaxed than before.

She looks at him, bewildered at what she just experienced. “What the hell was that?” She asks him as Bakugo only leans back against the cushioned booths with his smirk only growing bigger as if he’d done something groundbreaking. “That was my friend.” He says with pride.

“No way. Did you just hear their voice? That’s fucking crazy.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“I’m not joking, that was literally the most euphoric thing I’ve ever experienced.”

He snickers at her, before looking back at where you were near the stage, greeting and thanking the patrons who were all talking to you. Jirou turns to see what he’s looking at, seeing you slowly approach their table. She quickly turns to Bakugo with a panicked look and he can only laugh at her stupid face.

-

A patron calls out your name and you turn your head, “Aye! Amazing show there, kid. Fantastic voice!” They say and you bow your head in thanks, “Thank you! Come again soon!” You say, heading off to another table to greet guests before a loud, boisterous laughter catches your attention.

Your ears lead you to a table with what seems like a purple-haired girl with her head clenched between her hands and a boy with spiky, blonde, hair with— “Katsuki?” You say out loud, unknowingly calling out his name as the two of you lock eyes. He stops laughing as he nods at you, raising his hand to call for you. “Oi! Come over here!” 

Jirou only stares at you as you make your way over to their table, barely registering anything as you and Bakugo interact. 

Bakugo quickly stands up from his table to greet you with a hesitant side hug, much to Jirou’s surprise. “You’re alive!” You say, quickly checking to see any wounds on him, your eyes landing on his very burnt ears. “No aid?” You ask softly, concern laced in your voice. 

“Of course I’m alive, I’m not a fuckin’ wimp.” He boasts first, making you roll your eyes. “And, yeah. I’m here for that.” He quickly taps his ear and you nod in understanding.

The feeling she got from you doesn’t waver one bit, your speaking voice entrances her just as much as you were singing. A passing thought comes to her with how comfortable Bakugo seems to be with you, it must be the tiredness, she reasons. Although she’d understand if it’s due to anything related to your demeanor that seems to fill everyone in the room with peace. 

“This is Jirou. Jirou Kyouka.” He says, turning to the purple-haired girl across the table. Your eyes widen, noticing the other party at the end of the table. A girl sits in one of your booths with tense shoulders and hands pocketed as she’s dressed in a gray-ish, purple coat, and what seems to be her scarf laid on the space beside her. Jirou Kyouka. You swear you’ve heard that name somewhere before. 

You hold out a hand for her to shake, introducing yourself, making Jirou snap back to your eyes. “Is Jirou okay?” You test the name on your lips, puzzle pieces connecting in your brain as you piece together who she is. She nods, eyes wide as she takes your hand. “Jirou Kyouka. I can’t believe it took us this long to meet.” A moment of silence passes when your fingers make contact, goosebumps running up your arms as your palms touch. Jirou’s brain blanks when you give her a small smile that she returns with a shaky one.

Bakugo sits back down from across her, and you quickly follow and sit beside him. Jirou’s hand is disconnected from yours as she raises her eyebrows, finally registering your question, “What do you mean?” She’s surprised that you seem to know who she is. 

You finally remember who she is, with her watered-down punk look that makes sense when you see smudges of eyeliner on her face and the endearing purple hairdo she has. “I’ve heard from the others in 1A all about you!” Jirou firmly believes that Denki has been here before and she wonders why he hasn’t told her about it. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. Although it does seem like this place wouldn’t be your type. ” You reason, taking a peek at the metallic bracelets adorned on her hand. “You did amazing at the sports festival earlier this year and my mom’s a big fan of your dad’s work.” It feels as if the cold from outside suddenly came in as Jirou flushed from the praise.

“That’s why I brought her here today. Idiot’s never been here.” Bakugo explains with disbelief in his voice. “Not that I knew anything about this place, since nobody told me.” She retaliates, sending the blonde a small glare as he laughs.

“She’s emo. She doesn’t listen to jazz.” Bakugo comments again, and you let out a laugh. “Rude.” Jirou says, “Erm, I actually do, mind you. But not as much with other genres. You’ve seen our sports festival performance?” She realizes what you just said and ends up being even more surprised that she’s only met you just now, especially when it seems like you’re well-acquainted with the rest of her class.

You quickly shake your head, “Not in person, unfortunately.” Jirou lets out a small ah, “I wish I had though, I would’ve done anything to see Bakugo over here kill the drums.” You nod over at the blonde as he glows at the praise, “Watching from the television was good enough to catch how amazing your voice was though. Do you take classes?” Jirou barely registers the compliment before answering, “When I was younger, yeah! You?”

“Oh, no! But gosh, I wish I could.” You say with a sheepish smile, “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone with such,” She racks through her brain for a word, but falls empty, inwardly cursing herself as she tries to get the lump out of her throat. “with such a voice.” Sweet Ethel Cain, I’m gonna kill myself after this, she thinks.

Your smile slowly falls at her words, you swear you just felt the hairs on your legs rise along with the ones on her arms. Her shy compliment makes the corners of your mouth turn up again.

“That’s ‘cause of their quirk.” Bakugo interrupts, almost boasting. Jirou’s eyes widened in curiosity, ignoring Bakugo. She sees you shaking your head amused but ultimately nodding in agreement, “Yes, what you’re talking about might be because of my quirk.” 

“Shittyhead over here has a calming quirk and shit.” Bakugo adds, roughly patting your shoulder, “That is indeed the gist of it.” You chuckle, shoving Bakugo’s hands away from your shoulder, taking notice of the bandages and the fresh burns on his skin. Jirou thinks it only makes sense that you have a quirk that alters your voice, there’d be no other reasonable reason that could explain why in the world your voice was so enticing.

“What does it do?” Jirou asks before she could help herself, and she panics when she realizes that it could be a little insensitive to ask someone like that, “You can’t just ask someone why someone’s skin is pink, Kaminari!” A memory flashes through her of when Denki and Mina first met at UA, of which her yellow-haired best friend quickly found out that Mina is not a force to be reckoned with. She’s about to apologize until you let out a small laugh at her.

“It’s called Siren, well, at least that’s what my dad calls it.” You start, Jirou hangs on every single word you say, while Bakugo taps the table with his fingers. “Which doesn’t really make sense, my voice acts as a calming agent for others. I can’t lure you in or ask you to do things for me like a siren-like quirk would typically do.” Jirou doesn’t fathom why anyone would deny you anything you ask. She surely would.

What?

“I’ve been told it apparently has a different feeling for each person. Some say it’s like being lulled to sleep, others feel like they got everything they need at that moment. I don’t really know much about it.” You let out a small laugh, rubbing a hand against your neck.

“But your quirk is crazy fucking useful.” Bakugo suddenly compliments as you and Jirou turn to him with surprise, “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t apply for a course at some hero school. Your viability even if your quirk isn’t necessarily powerful or potent is huge.” He says, turning to meet your gaze with a genuine look, before you shake your head.

“Somebody needs to run this place,” you start hesitantly and Jirou notices Bakugo’s face almost, shrinking, into what seems like disappointment. It’s obvious you’ve had this conversation more than once with the pushy blonde, she thinks. “I won’t be any good in that field. You won’t believe the ruckus this place got when you guys were handling that supervillain a couple weeks ago.” You deflect away from the topic and Bakugo lets out a small frown but doesn’t push any further.

“Also, are you guys even allowed to be here?” You worry, suddenly remembering the time of the night and the presence of two minors being far away from somewhere that’s safe, protected and where they’re supposed to be. 

Jirou puts on a nervous smile while Bakugo gives you a sheepish look. “Come on, we’ve been here before all the time.” He reasons and you shake your head. “It wasn’t the same before, not with everything that has happened, Bakugo. Being here, it’s not safe.” You berate softly, the blonde winces at the use of his last name.

Jirou lets out a small laugh as Bakugo raises his hands in surrender, before pulling out the small device she’s seen him fiddling with earlier as he hands it to you. “We’ll go our way as soon as possible.” He says as you inspect the device, looking at the blonde with a sad smile. He looks over at Jirou as she gives him a slightly bewildered look, before turning to you again, “Maybe another one.” You nod, standing from your seat and removing yourself from the booth.

You turn to Jirou, giving her a comforting smile, “I’ll just go in the back. I’ll have some people serve you guys.” Jirou nods in understanding, turning to the drummer across from her with a million questions in her head as you leave from earshot.

“I have tinnitus.” Bakugo states blankly and Jirou acknowledges the faint look of vulnerability he has. “Ringing in the ears, guess that’s what you fuckin’ get for givin’ a kid an explosion quirk growing up.” He jests in an uncannily soft manner that quickly passes when a server comes up to them with two cups of what looks like hot chocolate. 

It’s common knowledge in class 1A that several members have drawbacks to their quirks. She’s noticed Denki has been significantly forgetful shortly after the battle has ended. Mina has had frequent burns despite having built her resistance to her own quirk for years. She thinks she’s heard Dark Shadow being restless in Tokoyami’s room when she went back up to her room to change.

But no doubt in her mind, the most evident one is Izuku. Jirou recalls watching him break every single possible part of his body to win against his competition during the sports festival. She didn’t think there could be anything worse than having parts of your body break every time you use your quirk.

She thought wrong when the others had said something about the green hero losing his quirk after the war. She didn’t even think that was possible. 

A hand subconsciously comes up to brush the hair behind her left ear, the lacking presence of half her quirk suddenly becomes apparent. Maybe it’s not such a crazy concept to think about. She puts her hand through the handle of the mug in front of her.

“Annoys the shit out of me. Fuckin’ worse than when dunceface babbles on and on and on,” Bakugo admits, cutting Jirou from her train of thought. “But it’s been too quiet and at the same time, it’s just—” He pauses, eyeing the mug full of hot chocolate in her hand. Jirou can only stay quiet as she eyes him a look full of pity, before his own eyes land on her. 

God, he hates that look. 

“It’s been too fucking loud.” He spits out, forcing his gaze on his own mug. Jirou looks at his pinched blonde brows, his red eyes that have been significantly softer compared to their first few months together at UA. 

“I—” Jirou starts, trying to think of something to say to take the space between them before the silence does. “I don't think I’ve been hearing good.” She winces, cringing at the way she words it. A silence comes between them, a rare comforting one, knowing that they’re in strange solidarity with their situations.

She hears Bakugo’s loud snort, “No shit, sherlock. You got half your fuckin’ ear blown off.” He jokes with a wolfish grin, and Jirou can’t help but smile at his blunt statement, letting out a few laughs.

“So, you’re getting like, what? Cochlear implants or something?” Jirou asks, having done a significant amount of research once she finally got back from the war to help with her hearing. 

But those implants can be pricey, and if she’s constantly being on the battlegrounds in the future where villains know about your very specific hearing quirk, she can’t even begin to think about how she’ll be able to afford replacing them without aid from her parents. She’d hate to ask anything more from them.

How can Bakugo get such important implants from a friend in a jazz bar? 

“Somethin’ like that,” He shrugs, “Of course, I can fuckin’ afford ‘em, but nobody has the fuckin’ time to wait months for that shit.” Jirou nods, that makes more sense. It’s a long process to get those and if her quirk had affected that process too, it’d be even longer for her.

“Then what are you getting?”

“You know about Y/N’s quirk. It’s crazy fucking useful, my only fuckin’ complaint is that I can’t drag them with me all the time so they can get this stupid fucking ringing outta my ear.” He huffs and Jirou raises an eyebrow.

He gives her a pointed look, “Come on, you can’t tell me that voice isn’t as clear as fucking glass.” She shrugs, but nods, “I mean, yeah. But what does that have to do with anything?” 

“IEMs that play a loop of their voice. Glorified fucking earphones. Not any better than the real person, have to shove the thing down my ear, but it helps when I’m tryin’ to sleep.” Bakugo admits nonchalantly while Jirou looks at him with shock.

“So, you’re sleeping to the sound of their voice?” Jirou asks playfully but a part of her is genuinely curious.

Bakugo looks at her with a stunned look until it dawns upon him how else his words could be interpreted, “Okay, fuck you. You’re makin’ it sound gay.” He swats at the air in front of her while Jirou lets out a snort, backing away from him. “Don’t make it weird, you piece of shit. It’s not like that.” He defends.

“Whatever toots your horn, bakubro.” Jirou raises her hands in surrender, teasing him as Bakugo fake-spits at her. 

“But does it actually work, though?” The purple-haired girl asks.

“Does for me. I know the other shitfaces in class seek them out. Dunno if they ask for it.” He explains and Jirou can’t help but feel left out, not having known about you like the others did. “You’ll fuckin’ find out soon enough, I asked one for you too.” Jirou nods, unsure how to feel about sleeping to some stranger’s voice. 

But she remembers how she felt when you sang and she admits that all the comments about your quirk are very accurate. The concept of falling asleep to someone’s voice isn’t unfamiliar to her and if Bakugo’s doing it, it’s probably worth something good.

“How did you even meet them?” Jirou asks Bakugo, looking at the door where you disappeared to that’s on the far end of the establishment.

“Parents are friends with the folks. Mom loved jazz.” Bakugo says plainly, his hands tapping against the table becomes more rattled as his eyes nervously follow the musicians in the background, stopping and slowly packing their instruments one by one, the silence slowly yet surely filling the air.

“You listen to jazz?” Jirou adds, Bakugo doesn’t seem like the type to listen to anything remotely soft. He raises an eyebrow at her, “The brush techniques for the drums are good. What, you don’t think jazz is for everyone, shithead?” Bakugo pokes at her while Jirou pokes her tongue out at him. “I’m just curious.”

The blonde lets out a snort as he takes a sip from his mug, and Jirou does the same too. The bell above the door rings ever so often as the people in the room leave one by one, the cold air breezing in every time.

Both of their mugs are empty by the time you come back to their table. Your face shining that it almost blinds Jirou, complimented and highlighted by the lights, even though she swears the lights have dimmed. 

You quickly hand something to Bakugo and he nods at you in small thanks. Jirou observes the distressed look on your face before your head turns to look at the near-empty establishment. “It’s late. As much as I’d love to catch up, you guys need to go back to UA and sleep, alright?” A sigh comes out of you, “We’re about to close, anyways.”

Bakugo lets out a small huff before nodding, standing up from the booth to face you as Jirou stands up from her side as the two heroes let you guide them back outside the establishment.

It’s cold when Jirou is the first one to step out, she quickly brandishes her scarf around her neck, turning her head to see you and Bakugo exchange a quick hug with a few pats on the back, she finds herself warming at the rare sight.

“It’s been so good seeing you, Katsuki. I’m glad you guys are alright.” Jirou questions how the smile on your face shines so bright despite your back facing the lights from the building.

“I know the bar’s called the Midnight Club but that doesn’t mean you should always be coming here at the dead of night, alright?” The two students laugh, nodding. 

“We’ll come back soon, nerd. Expect that I’ll be eating all the wings on your menu.” Bakugo says, closing the last few buttons on his coat. Jirou nods, she definitely wants to come back. “The music, it was really awesome. I’m glad I got to meet you.” She shivers, whether it’s because of the cold or from your eyes on her, she doesn’t know.

Your smile widens at her words, “Me too. Seriously. I hope you come back.” Your ears pierce through her. Jirou flushes, it must be getting colder.

 Bakugo hums, “The two of you, I mean.” You clarify, turning to see Bakugo’s pondering face hidden by the scarf he’s put on again.

“Right.” He says, a small, mischievous grin on his face before he turns back and goes his way. “See you later, nerd.” He raises his hand as farewell and you chuckle.

Jirou looks at him going back to the street from where they came from before turning back to you, “I should go.” She sheepishly says.

You laugh, letting out a small breath, “Right.”

She smiles before quickly jogging to the blonde’s path, not before turning her head around one more time to see you. “Thank you for the drinks! Have a good night!” She manages to shout out, waving her hand goodbye, already half across the street.

You wave back, letting out an even louder laugh that she can hear despite the distance, “No problem! Take care!”  

Jirou watches your distancing figure waving as she walks towards Bakugo, before you eventually go back inside. The last few people going back out as you exchange your goodbyes with them.

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in, turning to Bakugo on her right, who’s looking at her with a knowing grin.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His eyes go back to focusing on the path in front of them.

-

The silence is comforting as the two make their way back to school, crickets chirping and leaves falling and it feels like it took no time to finally arrive back in the school dorms.

Bakugo takes off his scarf and sheds his coat, quickly going back to the kitchen to turn the kettle on. Jirou eyes him as she takes off her scarf.

“Not going to bed yet?”

“Makin’ more hot chocolate.” He says, Jirou hums before making her way back to the dorms— “Wait, Jirou.” Bakugo calls for her as she turns around confused.

Bakugo puts his hand out with a small device, reaching out for her to grab it. “Airpods?” Jirou eyes the device, taking it in her hands. “Works the same as one. Button on the side. It starts playing the shit.” Bakugo explains and Jirou nods in understanding.

“Thank you, Bakugo.” Jirou gives the tall blonde a smile.

He nods, “Don’t be fuckin’ loud.” Jirou snorts as the somewhat affectionate words, or as affectionate Bakugo could be, leaves out of his mouth before he turns back to the kitchen.

Jirou stares at his still figure for just a second before going back upstairs to her dorm.

-

The deafening silence returns as Jirou steps inside her room, taking off her boots to put aside as she eyes the belongings in the dorm she’ll need to be packing soon. 

Quickly changing back into her pajamas, she sits on the edge of the bed as she opens the small device, where two smaller devices sit. 

Taking them out of the case, she carefully places them in her ears, navigating the left one through the cotton bandages. 

She lies on her bed, uneasiness settling in her body before she presses one of the buttons on the side of her head.

Kyouka Jirou falls asleep to the sound of your voice that night.

[strqyr]

genuine question: do people want bad, inconsistent writing? is that it? because that's the only way "taiyang is and always has been a horrible father and yang had to raise ruby all on her own and she resent him for it" makes any damn sense.

like. where's the resentment?

where is yang, while happy that ruby is one step closer to achieving her lifelong dream, feeling just slightly frustrated that she's once again sharing a room with her sister, when going to beacon was supposed to be a place just for her for at least two years without having to watch after ruby and feel guilty over it?

where's the resentment when tai sent zwei to the girls to be taken care of while he's away on a mission, placing that responsibility on yang again? why show yang instead being flippant about the whole ordeal, and shrugging it off like it's nothing, being ready to leave zwei alone in the dorm room for the week they're away because he has the absurd amount of food and a can opener tai provided them?

where's yang bringing up how she had to apparently grow up early because tai wasn't there, when she wanted to be treated like an adult?

where's the resentment when yang was about to leave home under the assumption it was her keeping her father from going after ruby, only to find out he isn't coming with her, once again leaving the responsibility of taking care of ruby on her shoulders?

because the show i watched, it doesn't exist. to even remotely get to that point you'd have to ignore ruby talking about their dad in a way that makes it clear he was present and raising them, you'd have to ignore yang having to wait for him to be out of the house to leave herself once again proving he was present and attentive of them, you'd have to ignore ruby's first happy memory being from that same time period (and with no corresponding sad memory to counter it), you'd have to ignore him reading them bedtime stories and taking them out for boba after school, making sure he's spending time with them even when he's busy with work.

you'd have to ignore that both yang and ruby have a good relationship with their father.

that is not to say tai doesn't have his flaws—every damn character in this show does—, but that's exactly what V4 is about. the rift that existed between yang and taiyang was his refusal to talk about raven and doing his best to prevent her from looking for her. that's it. just compare the difference in tone between yang's "oh, so now we can talk about her?" and "i don't know. some things you just need to be there for." and it's clear as a day where the resentment actually lies.

therein lies the core of the arc between yang and tai, and like many issues between characters in this show, it gets resolved: for the first time ever, he properly talks with yang about raven, and when yang is about to leave, he doesn't try to stop her like he has before; instead, he asks her where she's going, and gives information that might help make her journey easier.

if they intended there to be any lingering resentment from yang, 'boba' was not the way to do it. we know what yang's resentment looks like: anger, snappiness, the like. it's not quiet, almost somber.

they could have written yang treating tai's absence in vacuo as something she has come to expect from him, but they didn't; instead, she wonders why, because she can't fathom what could be more important for their father than being there, in vacuo, with them.

and that alone comes as validation for everyone who has wondered the same: why is tai staying in patch when everyone else is on the move? this is a character we're first properly introduced to as a father who has fallen asleep by his daughter's bedside waiting for her to wake up, a father who is almost brought to tears by relief that both of his daughters are back home and safe.

a father we last saw being absolutely desperate for his daughter to come back on screen when ruby's message cut short.

and beyond brings a sledgehammer and says yes, it is odd that taiyang hasn't left home to be by his daughters' side. wonder why that is, must be something important, wink wink ;)

and if you ask me, that sounds like a pretty damn good "long con", and damn good writing.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

I think the best indicator of "love" is screen time and development the characters are getting. Aemond is definitely not loved, perhaps not even liked by this team. He was sidelined in s1 after Driftmark as well, the show never explored the aftermath for him, ignored his trauma, barely showed relationship with his mother etc. But in s1 Aemond was still a compelling character who stood on his own, now in s2 they write him like an afterthought, it feels like they would have left him off screen if he wasn't needed for the plot, they don't develop him, but the audience sees him occasionally so people remember he exists. His sole reason to exist is to be a worse version of Daemon who gets the same character traits except for Daemon's depth and interactions.

It really sucks and imo it also hurts Ewan as an actor, because after all the hype and PR he got, people had their expectations only to see that he was heavily sidelined for... literally everyone else. And now people are criticising Ewan's acting, but what is he supposed to do when his appearances are so short and he isn't given any meaty scenes? Like you can't seriously compare Tom and Ewan's material yet people do this and say Ewan is a bad actor. Olivia's sad eyes are constantly on screen, it's getting tiresome and repetitive, but hey, they need her to have a chance at Emmys. Same with Emma and Matt, they'd rather show Daemon walking around for 10 minutes then give Ewan an extra second. The battle of Rooks rest could have been his moment, but no, it's Fabien who gets the spotlight out of the Greens. Anime villains can't show any emotions apparently! Aemond can only appear on screen for 2 minutes per episode max. This is downright disrespectful, HBO used Aemond and Ewan for promo, tricked fans into thinking Aemond will have a prominent role, but the show treats Aemond and Ewan terribly. People on social media say they want to watch HOTD just for Aemond because he looks cool and I almost want to say it's not worth it because he is barely on screen lmao. And the writing is awful. The showrunners and HBO had an iconic character in the making but they're boring morons.

Hello!

I have to agree on the point about the complete and utter disrespect with which HBO and the writers have dealt with Aemond and Ewan this season. Actually, basically all of the characters have been subjected to the exploitative treatment and used to either push the show's agenda in a very crude, dumbed down form or to straight out bait the audience to gain more views. Olivia plays a double part of "a terrible mother"/"a victim of patriarchy" (to make Rhaenyra look better/to hammer home the "women good men bad" point) with a default "I'm about to cry" face (she even kind of joked about it herself during one of the promo interviews). Emma so far has been playing another crying/disrespected/constantly in need of saving or standing up for victim of patriarchy. Matt this season gives a master class in playing the walking collection of psychological issues (and not in a good way) - but he at least has something to actually act out. The latter also goes for Tom though Aegon has been really dumbed down - plus sometimes it feels like his main purpose in the show is to evoke pity in viewers. Phia has been amazing with what she was given but overall storywise Helaena doesn't fare that much better than last season - she is still barely a character. Fabien has been talking a lot about Criston's loyalty to Alicent (and this loyalty was shown to us in season 1) but we have yet to see the actual proof of this loyalty in season 2.

But Aemond IMO takes the cake as far as the disrespect towards the character and the actor is concerned. It really feels like HBO after introducing this character with so much potential for development (and the coolest design to boot) played by a very talented actor with a really powerful screen presence just used Aemond for increasing the show's popularity and selling merch - and after that used Ewan during the promo campaign knowing full well that a lot of people have been intrigued by him and interested in learning more about him. Is it possible that no one at HBO had been aware about the way Condal&Co treated Aemond's storyline and how heavily he was sidelined before the season was released? I don't think so.

Anyway, even if HotD has robbed Ewan of an actual opportunity to fully show his acting abilities, at least it has brought him a certain amount of fame and popularity (including interest in his previous projects). People (directors and studio execs among them) now know who he is and what kind of range he has (based off the way he has been playing Aemond and the way he played his other characters). So, after all, some good has come of it.

[breathing-the-same-air]

Hey, lovely souls. Just here to spread a kind word for anyone who's feeling (understandably) down today🩷

So OFMD has been officially cancelled. Is this the end? Of course not. It will never be.

I mean, even if we'd got S3 there would have been an end to it too. Is it unfair that our awesome cast & producers didn't get to finish what they started in the way they envisioned it? Of course. Is the tv industry absolute shit? Hell yes! So many good shows are cancelled every day, and so many more never even get to exist. We got OFMD for two seasons, a blessing none of us ever expected, that changed our lives in so many ways, that saved so many lives. And if you think about the ending, even though the last episode was rushed and budget was cut and all, we still got such a wonderful, poetic ending, Ed and Stede are together in their inn, love in their eyes, they're safe, they're happy, honestly I couldn't have asked for anything better.

The thing is, things in life are limited (apparently), but the underlying truth to that is that things that truly matter are infinite.

How so? I'll tell you a scientific truth: time does not exist, at least not as we understand it. Because time is just like space, ever-present, every moment in time is actually forever alive. Nothing can ever truly die.

Which leads to another truth: we are infinite, just like the Universe, for we are Universe too. We are stardust and love, and Love is infinite.

We are all one, you and I and everyone out there, we're one same thing. There is no end to something that was created with love. And damn, I've never seen such an outrageous, wonderful outburst of love in my whole life! There is true magic in what we created together, fans, cast, crew, producers... we healed one another, we came together because one day someone just as crazy as us envisioned this absolutely mad world of kindness and inclusion and diversity and sheer joy and against all odds the moment we saw it we jumped on the ship without thinking twice. We made it possible for this show to get a second season, and more than anything, we built this wonderful world around it.

Stories are so much more than imagination, they're not just actors playing a role, there is a point where it stops being just a story and becomes a world on its own, and that world translates into our world, and when that magic happens, when that bridge is created, something so much bigger emerges that forever merges both worlds. It's magic and it's a blessing and I can't but be thankful for it.

My loves, I know you're sad right now. I know we all are struggling for one reason or another, we're all fighting our own battles, be it about physical or mental health, work, study, family, discrimination, or anything else. And OFMD has fought by our side and helped us win so many of those battles already. So when you're in middle of the darkness and can't imagine there could ever be light outside, remember this: we are all with you, right here, right now. Wherever you are, we are with you, and OFMD is with you. Because the things we love do never truly leave us.

We keep saying that OFMD changed us, right? That means that it's become a part of us.

OFMD is and will forever be a part of who you are—and in you, it will live on forever. Be grateful, be immensely grateful, for gratefulness is the vibration that heals the fabric of the Universe and makes miracle happens. Crew, we got something we could never have imagined to begin with!! We are so, so lucky to have had this blessing.

Take the time you need to heal, cry, let out all your pain. But then please be brave and choose kindness, just like OFMD has taught us to. Choose to raise your vibration to that of love and gentleness and dare to believe that life has wonderful things waiting for you. There is hope, there is light, there is magic in your future, a whole life just waiting for you to have the courage to take the next step.

What do you think the crew of the Revenge would have done if they had been told their ship was going to forever stop sailing? They would have thrown another Calypso's birthday party just to celebrate the chance they had to spend so much time there together, and they would have looked forward, found new reasons to be happy, and a new life. Open an inn, for instance!

They would not want us to cry, they would like us to smile and be happy because of the journey we've shared. Or at least, smile through our tears!

You are loved, you are important, your very existence is an absolute blessing to this world. Please never stop being your awesome, beautiful, magical self, because the world needs you exactly as you are- that is why you are here!

Cheer up Crew - we have been so immensely blessed. Can only be thankful 🙏💜🏴‍☠️🖤

[theerurishipper]

Personally I think there isn’t enough meta about Adricat being a girl coded character and you should make one too

Okay, so when I say "female coded," I mean that Adrien's character fulfils the role that female characters usually have done in media. He's the love interest, he's the emotional support. He's sensitive and he's emotional. He's the heart of the team. Marinette on the other hand is a "male coded" character. She's a leader, she comes up with strategies and plans, and she is the brains of the operation. I used to think that was really cool, the way they subverted gender roles and allowed the characters to shine as characters instead of putting them in a box. Marinette was a strong and determined person, but she also had moments of weakness and vulnerability. Adrien seemed like the usual trope of the damsel in distress, but he was also literally Chat Noir, who often escaped his own situation and whose arc was about him breaking of his father himself.

But then they leaned too far into it, and it just became a gender swapped version of the same tired tropes that we've all seen. Marinette became The Leader™ who can do no wrong and doesn't need to do that emotional support shit for her partner when he needs it. Adrien lost any and all agency in his own story, and effectively just became the damsel in distress who had to sit there and look pretty as he waited for Marinette the knight to come and save him. I mean, you can't get more on the nose than this.

(And yeah, this is supposed to be the class' fanfiction and not representative of what the show was building up to, but this is literally what ended up happening.)

His choices became more and more irrelevant, and his feelings became more and more unimportant, until the entire Ladynoir dynamic became Marinette being The Leader™ who doesn't need to tell Chat Noir anything and doesn't owe him anything, and Chat Noir became the emotional support who is always attentive and considerate of Ladybug's needs to the point of invalidating his own. His feelings of sadness at being left out of the loop and being pushed away by Ladybug ultimately did not matter.

And then Season 5 spent its time setting up a rivalry between Marinette and Gabriel over what's best for Adrien. The fight wasn't Ladybug and Chat Noir against Monarch, but Marinette vs. Gabriel, and whoever won got to take Adrien home as a prize. Adrien's agency was diminished throughout Season 5 and annihilated entirely in the Season 5 finale, where he spends the confrontation with his father locked away in a white room while Marinette has to take the fight to Gabriel and confront him on Adrien's behalf. And he is sound asleep far away from the conflict while Marinette and Gabriel fight over what's best for Adrien instead of him, you know, deciding that himself.

I mean, the finale could not have been clearer about it.

At least he's there in the dream lmao

And the end of Recreation reveals that Marinette is lying to Adrien about his father so as to protect him. Because apparently Adrien won't be able to control his emotions and needs someone else to make his decisions for him. Because clearly, he would be too emotional and wouldn't be able to make his own informed choices. And it's quite common for women to be told that they are too emotional and so the big strong man should make the decisions for them. So the female coded character is treated like his emotions are a weakness and a burden and like he requires other people to make his choices for him.

And so, Marinette the knight defeats the evil Gabriel, saves the helpless Adrien from his evil father, and they kiss in the sunset, and all is well. Except Adrien isn't being allowed to make informed choices about his own life and everyone around him is denying his autonomy, but he only exists to be the trophy for whoever won in the Marinette-Gabriel rivalry (which Marinette only won because Gabriel forfeited anyway), so he doesn't get to make choices and have any of those inconvenient emotions like anger or sadness, and all really is well.

Thomas Astruc even mentioned on Twitter that Chat Blanc was the reason why Adrien could not participate in the finale. And the implication is that he couldn't be there because he would be too emotional and would destroy the world. So Marinette had to do it for him, and Adrien had to be removed from his own story and put away in London with nightmares so that he wouldn't get in the way with his emotions. So yeah. The female coded character was reduced into being a damsel in distress and was told his emotions rendered him incapable of making his own choices because he wouldn't be able to control them.

Anyway, that's my take on it. Here are some other posts that discuss this.

Thank you for your ask!

[inchidentally]

because apparently I can't stop being weird ! 🫠

(this is completely shipping goggles off btw and with the assumption that there's no point theorizing about these men's actual sexualities since a)male sports and b)required travel to countries where the penalty for homosexuality is death/imprisonment.)

I kind of love that we're all picking up on something new and indefinable with Lando and Oscar and it makes our hearts do a little squeeze without fully knowing why. I'm basically finding myself repeating everyone else's tags on landoscar gifsets. and it made me think about why and how Lando has had two main support systems in terms of friendships up til now. there's the F1 alphas/extroverts and then there are his childhood besties.

F1

so like every guy or group of guys I've seen with Carlos somehow admit he's in the alpha position and rotate around him as the leader. it's very much like Daniel even though Carlos and Daniel aren't much alike outside of that (Daniel makes noise to be the leader, Carlos just exists as a leader). for an ambivert like Lando, Carlos and Daniel are great places to be when he's getting pulled under. they're typical straight alpha types who don't believe in getting stuck in their heads or feelings (Carlos' 'mental health' ad basically being go to the gym and stay productive to not feel sad lol) and they exist in a kind of nonstop monologue. so little Lando can just bob along in the current and know that he'll laugh and forget whatever ails him. very much like what he needed Carlos for after the Mexico race when he looked so drained and ended up magically chipper again in Brazil (in reality bc of friendship and not a solid dicking down as I have tagged in a lot of places). or that private plane ride with Daniel where Lando looked twelve years old and so happy. Lando clearly needs to feel small again sometimes and these are the guys who can do that.

Childhood

Max F obviously has that role of truth-telling and soul-baring that honestly I could see Lando not being able to live without. the friend/soulmate you can't hide anything from. I'm absolutely projecting at this point as someone who feels verrrry simpatico with Lando's personality (as we're allowed to see it) but having that person who can love you while being honest and real with you is so SO SO needed. but! there are times when it's too much and they know that you need to just float for a while. I feel like there's that core group of guys in the Max F circle who are all to different degrees like this with Lando. they're much more his equals in power dynamic too.

Oscah??

I think this is where Oscar exists in like a third, unexplored space. he's been caught in 4K as a Lando fanboy but he's also got sleepy cat personality so you can only tell from the internet evidence and from the way his eyes track Lando every time they're in the same rough vicinity that he's still fairly starstruck.

to me it's like Oscar hasn't quite shaken the norm of watching Lando on his phone screen and he almost forgets that he's supposed to be the one interacting with Lando in the challenges etc.

now if you've watched the Prema content on YT you'll know that Oscar, while still sleepy and placid, absolutely knew how to play up for social media content. sure the pressure wasn't that high and he'd known some of those boys for years by then. but his timing was solid and he adopted a sarcastic voice-of-reason role to bounce off the other guys. but what's so endearing about the McLaren content is that Oscar has basically positioned himself as guest star in the Lando Show. it's like he's so relieved at how good Lando is at media content that he spends a lot of his role in it watching what Lando is doing. I'm serious when I say it seems like he forgets he's not watching Lando on a screen like he always used to.

I do however think it's a confident and conscious decision that he made to not even bother trying to be another Carlos or Daniel - or to try and copy paste a little of the banter he'll have seen Lando have in Quadrant videos. I really love that Oscar's said you know what I'm being me and it so happens I'm nothing like those other people in Lando's content.

but !! you know who's personality and sense of humor Oscar most resembles? Max F. dry humor, sleepy but can get riled up and fun when they're feeling it. sort of fondly exasperated with Lando a lot of the time. I loved the stream of Max watching the Most Likely To with Lando and Oscar because he sided with Oscar so many times and appreciated Oscar bringing up the birthday issue.

and I think that's where for Lando he's still pretty damn thrown by Oscar - not in a bad way, just still uncertain. Oscar doesn't fit with Lando's extroverted F1 world. Oscar's plenty friendly with the rest of the grid (and obv Logan) but he's choosing to largely go under the radar and he runs his social media very lowkey even during some of the major highs he's had his rookie season. he's there to race F1 cars and when that's over he's got a very good brain in his head and plenty of options. he doesn't have the same insecurities that a lot of the drivers admit to having. Lando can't rely on Oscar being a typical F1 driver to understand him.

to finally come around to some kind of point I think what we're seeing is Lando and Oscar tiptoeing around a friendship that would probably develop very fast and easily if it weren't for the F1 pressure and expectations. we're seeing Lando unusually flustered by how easy he gets Oscar's attention and how he seemingly can't annoy or inadvertently piss off Oscar even if he tries to wind him up in videos or if he gets lost in admiration for his own trophy while Oscar shrugs off his own P14 finish and smiles at Lando. I genuinely think that level of undemanding affection has Lando sort of squirmy in an adorable way.

and Oscar clearly went into the personal side of his relationship to Lando of just enjoying whatever he gets and not trying to be someone he isn't. rookie seasons are already so pressure packed and the drama with Alpine followed by the rough start McLaren had won't have helped. he's just trying to do his job and prove his place and honestly isn't bothering to hide that he's baffled and flustered at finding himself interacting with Lando Norris the way Carlos Sainz and Daniel Ricciardo were. it's easier to just let people see that Lando can wrap him around his finger.

when all the time, if they'd met via Max F or mutual non-F1 friends, Oscar would fold right into Lando's group like butter on toast. I think that's what we pick up on with either or both of them getting shy and crushing on each other like new best friends at school. F1 has picked them up and put a camera on them and we're watching them slowly learn if it's okay to put an arm around each other or sit very close or touch the other person's hair. because they know this is very Real FriendTM friend potential and they don't want to spook each other and their feelings could so easily be hurt if they thought the other person didn't want to be friends as much or if they'd turn their back on them in front of their other friends.

they're not interacting as Typical Blokes by horseplay or teasing or being loud and they're not Just Guys Bein Dudes using humor and sarcasm to figure out the pecking order.

most of the time they're so shy or Lando's in a mood and Oscar finds it adorable and they're watching each other so closely the whole time like this and aauuuuhhggggg it's so vulnerable and sweet.

that's how it feels to me anyway and why I'm so ???!!! watching them interact. and sidenote I'm so so glad Oscar is so steady and can celebrate Lando no matter what. bc Lando admits he struggles with that in turn and after the many times it's been tested it's clearly never going to be something that breaks them before they can continue to get closer <3

[not-a-lady-irl]

I should have walked away

Pairing: Ellis Twilight x f!reader Summary: Your thoughts and feelings torment you more and more, whenever Ellis' vision appears. You wonder if he will ever love you. Warnings: angst, terrible writing Author's Note: 👍 Words: 1.4k

For days you felt like this, finished, hopeless, frustrated. You worked as the Fairytale Keeper at Crown, which, in fact, was not something you expected to experience when you thought about your future before the fateful night, but until you learned to live well with this change. Whether you admit it or not, you met new people, saw another side of society and became aware of things you had no idea even existed, cursed people.

— Thank you so much for your help today Ellis!

— It was fun spending the afternoon with you… thank you Y/N…

Throughout your stay at Crown, you ended up spending time with all the boys that made up that organization, but Ellis was the one who caught your attention the most. You wondered why he always seemed so calm despite all the hard work he put in day and night. All this, with a smile on your face. Besides the fact that he was a man of mystery to you, why did he join Crown? Why did he insist on working for Jude? These were some of the many questions you wished you had the courage to ask him one day, but you felt like it was none of your business.

You watched as Ellis waved you goodbye and headed to his room, without even looking back.

— Ugh… — A sigh leaves your lips as soon as the vision of the black-haired man disappears.

'He's always so kind and polite… I wonder if he knows about this… if he acts like this with everyone', your thoughts begin to appear, making your feelings towards the man you had said bye more and more apparent.

It's not like you promised not to fall in love or that you weren't interested in romance at the moment, quite the opposite, it was something you craved all the time, the feeling of being loved, of knowing that someone values ​​and cares about you, to smile at the thought that there might be someone waiting for you at home, to be able to taste what it's like to hear "I love you" from someone else's lips… especially if that person was Ellis.

Walking towards the exit of the castle, you try to clear away the fog of increasingly romantic thoughts that insist on taking over your mind. You knew that all those men were destined to have a tragic, sad ending, that they lived their lives now wondering if tomorrow they would find their last breath. Maybe that's why Ellis never showed any loving feelings towards you. Maybe the idea that he's just worried about your safety and happiness makes you more comfortable than believing that he just doesn't feel anything at all. It was easier to live like this. You had a bad habit of confusing kindness with some interest behind it, and the only thing you were sure of was that this way of thinking was your own ruin.

—Tsk, you're in the way, ya know? The´re busy people who need to pass, princess.

Oh, Jude.

— I'm leaving now, sorry.

—Thinkin' about him again? — A mischievous smile escapes his lips.

— I don't know who you're talking about. Not busy? — You respond, trying to ignore the obvious provocation that man was making. You were already used to it.

You expected any humiliation, insults from that man, but the only thing that welcomed you was a deafening silence. Something you didn't expect, and that scared you more than hearing something bad coming out of his mouth. You didn't know if you should turn your head to see if he had just left or if you should just move on, but curiosity killed the cat.

— What there was? Won't-

— Take care. — He replied.

— Oh! Um…? Be careful… with what exactly? — The answer took you by surprise.

— Ya know. — And so, Jude turned and walked away towards the Crown castle, leaving you alone with these statements.

— Wow…

You had planned to get some fresh air in the city, precisely to try to appease your feelings and thoughts of the man who had been tormenting you all this time. Be careful? With what exactly? For what reason? Wasn't all your caution all this time with the Crown members enough? Was it an attempt to get rid of these feelings as quickly as possible? Because they have a relatively short lifespan due to curses? It was killing you, it was already taking over your body, it was a slow, painful suffering.

Every day you tried hard to give a fake smile that everything was fine when clearly that doubt tormented your life day after day. 'Is it just me that he acts like that?', 'Does he know that I feel something other than friendship when it comes to him?'.

Damn… your eyes were already soaking wet from how much you were crying. Running out of the castle definitely didn't help much, as the other members watching her wondered what had happened to their beloved Robin.

— I'm really an idiot…

Your legs running as fast as they could, the burning already appearing, your feet begging for a rest, but the only thing you wanted was to run, away from that castle, those people, him.

You felt guilty for acting that way, it wasn't his fault that you weren't honest with your feelings… or that you weren't brave enough for not confessing them to him. But what tormented you was the simple question of, if you confessed, would he accept it? Would he say he felt the same way too? Would he hug you and tell you in your eyes that he loves you too?

Well, now you wouldn't find out, as the castle moved further and further away from you. And so does he.

When you arrived in the city, seeing the movement of people somehow calmed you down. The gentle night breeze on the bridge you were on invited you to stop for a moment and enjoy the view, at least for a second. The movement of the waves, the noise of the water colliding with the stone walls, the birds singing nearby enchanted you in a way that made you mesmerized by the view you had access to in this place.

But even though you felt calm and attracted at that moment, your heart still hadn't forgotten why it beat faster and faster, a constant reminder of what it did to you. This bothered you, the feeling of realizing that you didn't have control over your feelings and the way your body reacted to them. Ellis smiled, her heart racing. Ellis greeted you, his lips forming a smile. Ellis praised you, his cheeks flushed. Ellis touched you, your whole body responded to the touch.

It would be a dream to believe that he would feel the same, that he would have fallen in love with an ordinary girl like you. How many times were the two of you alone and spent a long time looking at his lips, giving him a signal to notice… but nothing happened. Sometimes he was really making a fool of you, who knows?

— I'm really pathetic. — You said that louder than you really thought.

Maybe you should take Jude's advice seriously and be careful with Ellis. You wouldn't suffer for him anymore, not after everything you've been through without making any progress. No, you were going to give up, this love wasn't for you. You were going to kill this love. You were going to kill this love. Stepping in a way that reminds it to never return.

It would be difficult to sleep without dreaming about him, in fact it was almost impossible. From the first day you met him, that you saw that smile… you should have run, gone, walked away, and not clung any more and desired even more. You made a mistake and now you are paying the consequences for your actions.

It was late, the moon and stars were a constant reminder that a woman should not be alone on these streets at this time of night. Not even you.

When you finally decided to leave where you were standing, thinking, a man holds your arm tightly, his face exuding hatred.

— Hey you, you hang out with those two guys, don't you?