#something about being used to being so unloved and uncared for that when it finally happens you don’t know what to do

[kaesnpoint-art]

Some fallout ocs of mine and @noah-pology’s that I was thinking about.

[innocentimouto]

One thing I’ve noticed is that most people in the atla fandom aren’t invested in discussing any trauma experienced directly by war and tend to value “more commonly known trauma”. 

Zuko getting burned? Being unloved? Having anger issues due to it? Desperately wanting his father’s love?

Everyone understands this in the fandom and explains all his behavior through these lenses.

Iroh losing his son. Sokka wanting to prove himself to his father and be a leader is relatable to many kids trying to grow up and fill shoes expected of them. Toph wanting her parents to understand her.

These are all things many people relate to in some way. Without having to have lived through war.

It’s why most Mai haters don’t even hate her for supporting the Fire Nation. Many don’t recognize that’s a problem. They hate her for how she acts around Zuko. Another relationship issue that can exist outside of a war situation.

Sometimes I get the vibe that people hate Mai for supposedly NOT being loyal to the Fire Nation (apparently calling her selfish and uncaring for her own people).

It’s why people have difficulty understanding Ty Lee also participated in taking down Ba Sing Se and harming many people in the process. And why it’s severely problematic that she just joined Suki.

It’s why Zuko’s racist and sexist lines throughout the show get tossed aside because he had a “redemption arc”. You don’t unlearn things you were taught to believe your whole life that quickly. Even the most sincere person would stumble and say something harmful or unwittingly carry harmful and racist beliefs.

It’s why his pathetic apology to Suki for burning her village is glossed over, like actual people couldn’t have died then. Like it’s so easy to forgive losing your home like that.

It’s why Iroh losing his son is so important and connects to his relationship with Zuko, which apparently makes Iroh good. Yeah, Iroh did bad things whatever those were, but it’s all good now. Anyone who is angry at him just lost their way and needs some tea and wisdom. Anger is not the answer.

His actions in the war are an afterthought. Other characters will get headcanons stretching any action in the most negative light:

Azula burning a doll

Aang kissing Katara without permission

Mai not giving in to Zuko’s every whim

Jet wanting Zuko to join the Freedom Fighters

Notice again, none of these things are exclusive to war. Even when people write Iroh negatively, it’s more on how he doesn’t help Zuko or doesn’t offer any help to Azula.

No one questions why he met dragons and still continued to conquer land. Few people discuss how very not wise it was of him to finally stop supporting the fn after his son died.

Even when people say he was indoctrinated and that’s hard to get out of----

then why do you hate on Azula? Why is it not hard for her?

Because she lied to Zuko. Because she worked for Ozai who abused Zuko. This is why Azula is at times more hated than Ozai. It’s not because of her actions in war. It’s because Zuko views her as this big obstacle that he agonizes trying to beat.

Again, not fully related to war.

Zuko and Azula and Ty Lee and Mai worked to conqueror BSS? Azula is the evil one. 

This seems less like the suffering of the victims are being prioritized and more like a character who’s already hated is facing even more hate.

Jet floods a village. People still hate him more for manipulating Katara. To them he’s not horrible because he flooded a village. He’s horrible because he used Katara first and then he flooded a village.

Jet is seen as the abusive and manipulative boyfriend. Or an out of control angered teenager “whose prejudice killed him”.

There’s little discussion on why he would flood Gaipan. The most common is that he was angry. Or he wanted to spread pain. Nothing about facing actual danger or who was living there or that maybe the Fire Nation could decide to burn the forest if they got fed up.

His trauma is vaguely acknowledged and only to further show how dangerous he is to others. Being suspicious of Zuko is deemed as stalking. Stealing from the ferry is labelled as evil and proof he didn’t change from Book 1 despite being given to other refugees. In fact Jet is the only one seen giving out food.

Jet grew up an orphan in a forest with other orphans under him and a very common take is that he’s like a cult leader trying to get more people to brainwash. He can’t let go of the war because of anger and extremism. His trauma makes him dangerous and not uwu and in need of help and love like Zuko’s.

People think Katara could forgive Zuko easily but not Jet. Because Jet manipulated her. And Zuko just tried to kill her and her brother and capture the Avatar thus taking away hope for winning the war...

These are on entirely different levels. There is also the fact that Zuko invaded her home and made her experience what happened when her mother died all over again.

But that’s okay because Zuko apologized and he was traumatized, and Katara has a big heart. But bring Jet into the equation and it’s not even whether he apologizes or not; most decide Katara would never forgive him. 

Again, trauma and consequences of war are devalued. None of Jet’s trauma beyond anger is acknowledged and still it’s only to condemn him for hating the fn. Which would be entirely understandable if people looked at it through the context of war.

The same way Azula hate would lessen if people were to recognize everything she did was because her nation expected soldiers to. She wasn’t a singular evil, reveling in Zuko’s suffering. She was following orders from her leader and serving her nation.

Which people could recognize if they think “Zuko got his scar from being disobedient” and “maybe the same could happen to Azula”.

“Azula is horrible to her friends” and not she’s the freaking princess they have to obey her by law she completely outranks them she is in fact showing a human side by allowing them room to treat her like a friend.

“Jet needs to let go of his anger” and not witnessing your family and home killed for no reason and seeing dozens of other children face the same thing and then having to fend for yourself in a forest because not even your own people want to care for you and no matter how much anger and grief you feel nothing happens and no one is coming to help you and now it’s your job to protect other children and you never asked for any of this and why won’t this stop and you have every right to be angry

I could go on, but this is also why many don’t relate to Aang. Yeah he lost his people but--

I’m sorry what?

Genocide is something plenty of people can understand and plenty of people don’t and unfortunately the people who don’t tend to make it hard for survivors to speak about it or be angry and want justice.

Aang should have all the justification to be angry. He should have all the justification to run away from his responsibilities. He is a child meant to save the world and everyone he loves is gone. His nightmares of finally facing Ozai are made into a joke about school to be more relatable to kids. Personally I think that even if many kids wouldn’t understand the genocide aspect, they could understand why Aang would be anxious.

Almost all of the fandom loves Toph because she’s always right and rough and amazing and again very few question her line of “not my problem” to helping in the war. Most don’t discuss how her wealthy life would have shielded her entirely from the war, making it difficult for her to understand any of the Gaang’s trauma.

One might say “it’s a kid show so they couldn’t show too much of war”.

They had Zuko burned and screaming. They had Katara about to kill someone in cold blood. They had Toph almost fall to her death. They had Hama in chains in a cell for years. They had animal abuse. They had brainwashing and women with no other role than to be puppets.

Even if they couldn’t show too much of war, they should have toned down the amount of humanization the Fire Nation got. 

Basically I feel like this stems from how people experience trauma outside of war and how it’s become more acceptable to speak about it, but people who have suffering from war and colonization still aren’t welcomed enough and aren’t heard in online spaces and it really shows in this fandom sometimes.

[luvvsoft]

pairing: roland taggart x reader

contains: lovers to enemies, angst, heartbreak, cheating, betrayal, somewhat soft ooc roland

word count: 1046

You met Roland on the run, merely by chance.

Your parents signed your unwind order after they decided that taking care of nine kids was simply not sustainable nor a liveable situation. As the oldest of your siblings, the responsibility now fell on you. Your parents no longer wanted you around; they wanted you gone, and you knew soon the siblings after you would follow.

You were used to being unloved by your parents, uncared for and thrown aside, only to function as a second parent and raise your siblings. Yet it still hurt when you found out they were so willing to throw you away, as if you were dust on their shelves, only serving as a nuisance. You desperately yearned for their validation, but deep down inside, you knew you’d never get it.

After finding the copy of the order, you knew you had to run, if not for you, then for your siblings. They didn’t deserve to watch as the Juvey-cops took away their sibling or the struggle that would come with it. So, you ran, ran as far as your feet would take you, as far as your siblings would want you to. You didn’t stop unless it was for necessities, until you knew you were a safe distance, and even then, you still had to keep going.

You were in a gas station when you met him, looking only to buy water after a long day of trying to stay unspotted. Roland knew you were an AWOL from the second he saw you. After all, he was no stranger to one himself, he could recognize an AWOL from miles away. He wasn’t sure why, but he approached you. Maybe he was curious about who you were, or maybe he wanted company after feeling so alone for a long time.

Regardless of Roland’s reasoning for approaching you, the pair of you grew close, closer than any of you had been to anyone else. It felt comforting, as if you had finally found home, in his arms. Many nights were spent wrapped in each other’s warmth when you found no place to stay. Those nights you cherished and held the closest to your heart, as they were the only moments he allowed himself to melt in your arms, to be soft.

Soon enough, you found Sonia’s shop, a refuge you both so desperately needed. It would finally allow for a moment of rest without needing to wonder how you’d survive everyday, and you could spend more time focused on Roland, or so you thought. Immediately upon arrival, Roland established himself as the leader and above everyone. You could no longer spend time with him, and instead had to beg for a speck of his attention. It seemed like he no longer cared as he was a king ruling over his kingdom, and you? Well, you were just another for him to assert his dominance over.

Things only started changing when a new group arrived: a girl who held a baby in her arms, and a boy who looked angry and guarded.

You could tell Roland already despised them, and they hadn’t even said a word. The boy, whose name you learned was Connor, and Roland often clashed. They always had tension festering whenever they interacted, waiting for a moment to release it. As much as you had tried to stop it from exploding in everyone’s face, you couldn’t, or rather, Roland wouldn’t let you, pushing you farther and farther, until it finally blew up.

You could see the look in Roland’s eye: the calculating look of a plan forming in his mind. You tried to stop him from doing something dumb, especially with so many around, you really did, but Roland was his own person, and took orders from nobody but himself.

You heard it, next: the struggle, the look Roland gave Risa, the words he said, Connor’s calm demeanor. You heard it all, yet you couldn’t believe your ears. You couldn’t or wouldn’t believe Roland was capable of doing such thing or even saying it.

Roland saw you on his way out, not even giving a reaction apart from a smirk thrown in your direction. Connor came out after, only offering you an apology for hearing that.

You confronted Roland soon after that, no longer willing to be quiet after what you had witnessed.

“Are we going to acknowledge what you just did?” you said to Roland, who was sitting by his lackeys.

Roland stood up, then taking your hand, dragged you to an empty corner with no one around.

“What do you want, now?” He says. “I don’t have time for this.”

“On the contrary, you certainly have time to go and frighten a girl who did nothing to you just to infuriate Connor, yet not for me.”

“What’s your point?”

“I want to go back to the way we were, Roland. I don’t want to continue fighting for crumbs of your attention, yet some guy gets it all. I want to go back to how we used to be in love.”

“Can’t you just let it go? I don’t love you like I once did. I’m done with you, I’ve washed my hands of you,” Roland said. “I don’t know how else you want me to say it to you. Besides, I’ve already found someone else: someone better than you ever could have been.”

He then turned around and left you to ponder what came of you both.

Then you understood, Roland never loved you like he said he did. He only kept you around because he was so in need of someone to understand him, to nurture him. You just so happened to be the unfortunate one to do so. And now, he'd found someone else to take your spot.

You had a habit of taking in strays: strays loyal enough to the first person who showed them kindness. Maybe now, you took in the wrong stray, one willing to bite the hand that fed him.

You’d make sure he regretted it for as long as he lived.

[atlasshrugd]

hear me out. if dawn symbolises buffy’s “girlhood,” or “innocence” - it makes sense that during s6 dawn feels left out and forgotten. buffy has been dealing with the reconciliation of her Slayer/Girl sides since the beginning of the show, and in season 6 it comes to a head. buffy feels like she left that part of her in the ground, which is why she feels “wrong,” and can no longer feel emotion the way she used to. buffy does not face this disconnect head on, but runs from it and tries to justify it (by asking tara to find out what happened, and realising that there was nothing she could blame it on). she doesn’t speak to her friends about it, and instead runs to spike, who is the symbolic manifestation of her Slayer side, or her “dark” side. he is the only one she can stand to be around, because everyone else (including dawn) only makes her hyper aware of what she “should” be like, or what she used to be. everyone has expectations of buffy to get back to normal, and worries about her when she doesn’t, causing buffy more guilt at their pain, and more frustration at her own inability.

this causes buffy to avoid her friends, and mainly - dawn. she neglects her because dawn symbolises that part of herself she cannot get back. the part of buffy that wasn’t the slayer - that was just the teenage girl. it not only pains buffy to be reminded of this, but deeply saddens her when she cannot be the person dawn needs her to be. naturally, this neglect leads to dawn feeling unloved and uncared for by the people in her life, causing her to lash out for some semblance of control by stealing. “does anybody even notice? does anybody even care?” she sings in omwf. buffy has been avoiding her, because she does not want to face what she has lost.

in contrast, season 5 shows buffy protecting dawn above all else. this is not only buffy protecting her out of love for her sister, but for what her sister symbolises. buffy is giving up everything, including herself (which is: the Slayer), so that this part of her may survive. dawn is the innocence and goodness that buffy strives to protect every day. she is the reason buffy fights; the reason she rids the world of demons. so that good and clean things, like dawn, may live in it. buffy gives her life so that dawn can live, and with dawn, a piece of buffy lives on, too. the part that buffy has felt alienated from; and the part that buffy thinks is most deserving of life. buffy recognises that dawn is part of her; that the monks made her out of buffy. she is more myself than I am.

the s6 finale shows buffy finally accepting dawn as her own person, instead of a piece of buffy she has neglected, or as a symbol of purity (the key). she allows dawn to fight side by side with her, and realises that all this time she has been protecting dawn (the good side of buffy) from the world - when really, she wants to show her the world. but buffy lives and does what she does so that the world is a place where dawn may find her own meaning. buffy wants to protect the girl from the ugliness of the world; but here she is realising that the girl, too - like the Slayer - must find out what it means to live in the world herself. buffy is reconciling the girl she used to be/the girl inside her (dawn) with the Slayer she was born to be. she is no longer avoiding and neglecting one part of herself, but accepting and integrating both parts, which allows her to feel the scope of pure emotion of a whole person - something she has lacked since she came back from the dead.

she is no longer seeking punishment for her wrongness that she cannot face, or hiding that part of herself from the goodness she can no longer relate to. buffy is taking this step to be whole; to not be fragmented, to not be ashamed, to no longer pretend, and to stop being her own martyr. she is allowing dawn the dignity to fight for herself, to stand up for what she believes in, just as buffy does. whereas in the past, buffy treats dawn as if she is fragile and precious to an overbearing degree, because buffy is terrified to lose that part of herself. here, buffy let’s go of fear, and allows the reconciliation of the girl and slayer, while also releasing dawn from the emblematic, non-entity role she has projected onto her.

[hops-hunny]

Something I’d Get Used To

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.4k

Request: anon “Hey could I get a 9 & 21 for nev with a fem reader please fluff/smutt! Thank you!! :)”

Summary: (Y/n) doesn’t do love, but whatever her and Neville have is something she can get used to

Warnings: Slight angst in the beginning but vast majority fluff!

A/N: Hey anon, I decided to go with fluff so I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you have just as much reading it!

9. “Love’s a word I always hated.”

21. “I’m smitten with you and everyone knows it.”

Love. A word that made (Y/n) sick to the very pit of her stomach, and Merlin’s knows not in a good way. (Y/n) was tired of the word love before she even knew what it meant. The word that held so much meaning. The word girls and boys alike waited sometimes their entire life to hear. She was sick of it. She had her parents to thank for that. Growing up, (Y/n)’s parents were always busy with work, leaving her with various different strangers referred to as “nannies”. At first she’d look forward to hearing the words, even reading them. “We love you dear, we’ll be home soon!” Each letter ended with this phrase. She remembered the long days that she’d sit by the front door, waiting for the owl to bring the letters to her. How she’d clutch them to her heart, cheering with glee as she’d read her to whichever nanny they had hired. 

However, each time they’d leave they would go for longer and longer, the letters would grow shorter and shorter until eventually they became nonexistent. She felt uncared for, unloved. When her parents got older they started to stay home more opting to work from home. She could still recall the fated conversation that made her hated that stupid little four letter word.

(Y/n) was ecstatic but tried not to show it that much. She knew how much her parents disliked when she would outwardly express obscene amounts of emotion and yet she couldn’t help the smile that overtook her face when they invited her out for dinner. They felt bad for all the important holidays and birthdays they had missed and to make up for it, they decided to take her out for one last grand hoorah before her departure to Hogwarts. 

“Mom, dad, can I ask you something?” she asked, playing with her fingers nervously. Although they were her parents, she always felt unsure of how to speak to them. The limited amount of time they had spent together were always cut short, leaving her parents to feel like distant strangers in her life. Her mom looked up from her phone, smiling at the girl.

“Of course dear, what is it?”

“I...I wanted to know why the letters stopped. You know, when you two would travel. You used to send me a postcard and a letter from whatever place you guys were at and eventually they just stopped coming.” She looked up at her parents, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. “Why is that?”

“Letters?” her father started off confused, looking up from his menu briefly before returning his eyes to it. “What lett-”

“Dear let’s stop. Did you want to order drinks too? I’ll get the waiter ov-”

“No mother, let him finish. Go on dad, what do you mean what letters? You guys used to send me them every time you left. How could you not know what letters?” she pleaded desperately, trying to find the answers in her parents eyes.

“Oh right! Those letters.” he said unamused. “Listen kid, you’re old enough now so I guess it’s time we tell you. We weren’t the ones writing those letters, it was your nannies. Do you really think we had the time out of our busy schedules to write you letters? Don’t be ridiculous.” he said, letting out a chuckle. “I don’t see how you didn’t notice that the handwriting was a bit different each time.”  His eyes rose quickly from the small words on the menu at the sound of the menu being slammed on the table. (Y/n) stood there with hot angry tears in her eyes, glaring at her parents. No, it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. They loved her, right? People who love each other don’t lie, her mother had taught her that once. She rose from her spot in the booth, running out the restaurant despite the cries of protest for her to stay.

When she got home, she went into her room pulling the old box that she kept under her bed. She ripped the lid off, pouring the contents onto the bed. “No,” she croaked, tears beginning to form in her eyes again, “No, no, no. Come on. No come on!” she picked up the letters comparing the writing noticing how the writing didn’t match up. “Bullshit! This is bullshit! I can’t believe this!” she screamed, throwing herself on the bed. She sobbed herself to sleep, surrounded by the letters filled with lies. So much for love.

After that incident, (Y/n) opted for staying with her aunt. Her aunt was a few years older than her mom but due to the lax life she lived, she looked a lot younger. She was very grateful that her aunt took her in with such short notice, welcoming her with open arms. She’d write to her often, sending her letters of the adventures she was having at Hogwarts. She would always laugh at the bittersweet way her aunt would sign letters, “Lots of Love, Aunt Margie.”

“Oh come on! Please? It’s just one group date.” Hermione pleaded, chasing down the hallway after her friend. She sat down next to her on the common room couch, smiling at the (y/h/h) girl. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll even fall in l-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. That word makes me sick to my stomach.” she said, clutching at her stomach to add emphasis as she made gagging noises. “Love’s a word I’ve always hated.” Hermione looked at her friend sympathetically, patting her leg. Her and Hermione had been friends long before their years at Hogwarts. Her parents were colleagues of her parents but they had lower down positions.

“I know, I know. But you also know I wouldn’t put you with anyone I didn’t think was good enough to be with you. He’s a sweet guy! He loves tending to plants, he’s kind, funny. Sure he’s a little awkward and slouches a bit when he stands but he’s got his own bit of charm!” She said, watching as (Y/n) considered her words. She sighed looking at her.

“Is he at least cute?” 

“I knew you’d come around!” Hermione exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her friend tightly. She pulled back, holding her hands in a comforting way. “It is at the end of the week. I decided to tell you ahead of time so on the off chance you’d agree, which you did, you’d have time to back out at any time if you decided you don’t want to go. Well,” she started as she stood up, gathering her things in her hand. “I’ve gotta get going! And to answer your question, I guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”

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

(Y/n) snuck through the grass trying to make her way to the greenhouse. Well, as much you could sneak in panda slippers and a nightie. It was about three in the morning and no matter what, she couldn’t sleep. Most nights she had trouble sleeping but it was never this much. “Just my luck. First date I ever agree to and here I am in my fucking pajamas trying to sneak into the greenhouse for a plant that may or may not even be there.” she grumbled, holding her illuminated wand in front of her. She sighed in relief as she finally made her way into the greenhouse. 

She found herself pondering whether it would’ve been simpler to just snag some chamomile from Snape’s room instead. “No, don’t be stupid. He would’ve definitely given me some awful punishment, or even worse, let Filch deal with me.” she shuddered at the thought. She looked around the crowded building, looking and searching for the plant. “What the fuck does a chamomile plant even look like?” she muttered. (Y/n) felt herself growing a bit irritated with herself. Years of living with her Aunt Margie had left her spoiled considering Aunt Margie hated tea bags, always opting for making her own blends. If only she had paid attention to her when she was teaching her about plants, that would make this process a whole lot easier.

“Chamomile, chamomile, chamomile. Eh, this looks close enough!” she reached for the pair of scissors in her pocket, leaning forward to cut it before a hand grabbed hers. She screamed, jumping back as she pointed the scissors at the intruder. “What are you doing?!” she questioned, looking up at the boy. He had a blue pajama set on along with a brown pair of moccasins. He quirked a brow, hazel eyes boring into her own.

“I could ask you the same thing. I come here every night and never see you here.” he shuffled awkwardly, taking the scissors from the girl’s grasp. “Did you need something?”

“I was just about to cut a bit of this chamomile here.” She said motioning to the plant. The boy began to laugh some, shaking his head as he walked across the greenhouse. “What’s so funny?”

“That,” he motioned to the plant that she was previously going to cut, “Is not chamomile. If you were looking for something to help with sleep you would’ve been very upset. That’s actually bouncing biltweed. Whoever drinks it, be it through a tea or potion, is left awake for HOURS. It’s a good alternative for coffee drinkers though.” she felt heat rise to her face as she looked away embarrassed, crossing her arms as she mumbled about how she already knew that.

“Why do you know so much about plants anyways. You say you come here every night, why is that?” she questioned, walking over to his side. She watched as he cut at the actual chamomile before walking to a purple plant and cutting some of that as well.

“I love plants. I always used to have this extra energy from how anxious I’d get, so I started tending and caring for plants. After herbology in first year I became hooked. They’re so fascinating.” He looked down at her, flushing slightly. “Usually I don’t come here this late but I couldn’t sleep either. I have something I’m really looking forward to tomorrow and I don’t wanna screw it up.” she nodded, giving him a noise of acknowledgement. 

“Yeah, I’ve got something tomorrow to. I wouldn’t say I’m looking forward to it but I am quite concerned about how it’ll all play out.” she sighed, stretching as her eyes floated around the room. Her eyes landed on a kettle and a set of cups around the room. “Well since we’re both in the same boat, how bout we have a cup of tea together, yeah?” she asked, walking to the kettle as she looked back at the boy. She noticed how red he was but chose to ignore it as he gave her a nod.

Although she wasn’t usually a people person, she felt oddly comforted around the boy. He was a bit awkward but sweet nonetheless. (Y/n) hadn’t expected to run into him, let alone spend the next few hours laughing and talking to a guy who’s name she didn’t even know! After a while, their conversation dwindled down to nothing as the effects of the lavender and chamomile took over the both of them. The walked to the castle together before bidding each other goodbye, going their separate ways. She’d never admit it to herself, but she quite liked the boy. He seemed like someone she could be into.

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

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Hermione huffed, throwing herself onto (Y/n)’s bed as the girl got ready. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, adding a final coat of lip gloss on as she ignored the girl. “You know, for someone who was very reluctant to go on this date, you’re putting a lot of effort into your appearance. I think Neville will appreciate it though." She giggled as the girl began to sprits a light amount of perfume.

"Neville?” ah, so that’s what his name was. “And, if I'm going to be wasting my time then I might as well look good doing it. And besides, I'm ready!" She walked over to the mirror smiling at her appearance. She had on a mossy green oversized sweater totally not stolen from her father that was tucked into the overall shorts that she had cuffed around the legs. On her lower half she adorned a beat up pair of sneakers. She smiled, admiring herself before grabbing her brown leather satchel. Hermione stood next to her friend in the mirror, looking at her own appearance as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Do you think I look alright?” she questioned, viewing herself from another angle. “Because, you know, I think I look wonderful but do you think Ro-”

“If Ron doesn’t think you look nice then I’ll give him a reason not to be able to see. You look wonderful! You’ve been looking forward to this all week, don’t go beating yourself up. Now,” she grabbed the girl’s hand as they began to head towards the door. “Let’s go show 'em what we’re made of.”

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

The world had to be playing a joke on her. There was no other explanation for what was in front of her. No, it couldn’t be him. However, as they neared her suspicions were confirmed. As the others were all communicating, the boy(who she assumed to be Neville) stood awkwardly by himself, chiming in every so often. She could’ve been wrong but as he turned towards her, with rosy red cheeks and wide eyes, she knew most definitely it was him. “Hey! It’s you from last night. Are you Neville?” she questioned, standing in front of him. He had on a brown flannel, a black shirt under it which was untucked from his dark color jeans, quite a contrast from his cute little pajama set from the other night.

“Y-yeah I am! This is for you.” He said, holding out a beautiful hand picked bouquet before continuing, “I-I know it’s a weird combination but I thought it’d be a nice call back from the other night.” she smiled, looking down at the strange but welcome array of chamomile, lavender, and baby’s breath. How cu- thoughtful was that? Her brows shot up in realization.

“Wait, you knew?! Why didn’t you say something?” she exasperated, slapping his shoulder playfully before she threw back her head groaning. “I told you so many embarrassing stories last night.” she facepalmed, looking up at him as he began to laugh some.

“Thought it’d be a funny surprise. The look on your face was priceless!” He said, moving away as he laughed at her failed attempts to hit him. He looked around realizing their group had already gone. “It looks like everyone else already left. Let’s get going, yeah?” he said, holding his hand out to her. (Y/n) looked down at it hesitantly before taking his outstretched hand, goosebumps spreading across her body at the warm contact. 

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

As they arrived at the quaint little hole in the wall of a restaurant, they realized their small predicament. Hermione smiled, turning towards (Y/n). “Have I ever mentioned how much I lo- care about you?” she cooed sweetly, taking the girl’s (s/c) hands in her own. In return the girl narrowed her eyes looking at her.

“What happened? What do I need to do?” she questioned.

“Well it won’t necessarily be you who has to do something,” she walked back looking at her group of friends, “It appears there’s not enough seats for 5 sets of us so one couple is going to have to take a booth.” (Y/n) looked at her rolling her eyes.

“We’ll do it. Willingly too because if I have to see Harry look at Ginny like that one more time I honestly might end up puking. Come on Nev.” she said, grabbing the giant's hand, leading him to the booth in question. Neville felt his breath hitch and his face flush at the contact, turning to give his friends one last look.

“Don’t bore her to death with all your talk about weeds and plants! I don’t think any girl wants to hear that.” Seamus snickered out, walking away from his friend. However, (Y/n) didn’t hear him, looking up at Neville as she waited for him to sit down. She froze but shortly relaxed as he took a seat across from her instead of next to her.

“I hope we didn’t waste all our good topics yesterday!” she exclaimed looking over at him.

“Surely we haven’t. You know, you never told me what you like to do for fun. Do you have any hobbies?” he asked, looking over the menu as he waited for a response.

“Of course! I’m an artist. Wait a second, I brought my sketchbook, give me one second.” she said, digging into the brown bag that sat next to her. She pulled out a worn down leather notebook, sliding it across the table. 

“You brought your sketchbook on a date?” he chuckled, watching as she looked away timidly. “I’m just teasing, love. Plus I knew you drew, I’ve seen you sketching sometime but I’ve never actually seen any of you work,” he flipped it open, gasping at the girl’s art, “But oh wow are you talented! I expected nothing less from you though.”

“To be fair, I brought the sketchbook before I knew it was you I was going on a date with. I thought I’d be stuck with someone boring and uninteresting,” she said, watching as he examined the pages, “But I guess I lucked out, huh?” Now it was Neville’s turn to feel taken. He flushed lightly before reaching over, grabbing her hand.

“Oh? Am I hearing this correctly? Am I being led to believe you’re enjoying your time on this date with me?”

“Don’t push your luck, Longbottom.”

The pair continued to talk, not a moment of silence falling upon them. It was going perfectly. Neville let her talk about her hobbies and equally enjoyed talking about his. Not once did either of the two get bored or stop talking...which couldn’t be said about their friend’s at the table across from them. The two began to giggle at the sight of the bored expressions on their faces. “Oh god, how awkward does that look?” she laughed out, watching as one of the girl’s visibly yawned at something Seamus said.

“And to think he tried to give me advice before this. Looks like it should’ve been the other way around.” He said, moving his eyes back to the girl. God she was gorgeous, he couldn’t help but think so. He let his eyes travel down the slope of her nose to the outline of her lips. He was absolutely enamoured by the girl, and had been for a few months. He could never get the words right to say to her and from what he had heard from other guys who confessed, he didn’t think he wanted to. He jumped out of his thoughts as the girl’s face was extremely close to his. (Y/n) began to laugh, sitting back down in her seat.

“T-the look on your face! Oh that was priceless. You practically jumped out of your pants!” she laughed harder, snorting as she bang her fist on the table. After a few seconds, she looked over at  the taller boy tilting her head in confusion at his lack of words. “Neville, are you alright?” her eyes looked down as he gripped her hand in his own.

“Listen (Y/n) I know you don’t do love but I just need to say this. I...I like you. I’m absolutely entranced by every part of you and it did start out as physically, I’ll admit but it wouldn’t feel right having you be the only one who didn’t know. I’m smitten with you and everyone knows it.” he spoke softly, looking down at his empty plate on the table. His face flushed as she tilted his head to face her, his expression filled with confusion.

“You’re right. I don’t do love. However,” she tightened her grasp on his hand stroking his cheek, “I think we have the potential to have far more than that. Something greater than lo-love.” Neville’s face was overtaken in shock at the girl’s revelation. (Y/n) smiled before leaning over and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

She may not be the type to do love, but this was definitely something she could get used to.

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.9 | Brittana

A/N - Lots to process, hey? I’ve been seeing in the reviews all the guesses of who will develop feelings first (& the few that are convinced they’ve already figured it out lol). It’s always interesting to see what y’all are thinking! Anyways, thanks for “tuning in” each Friday & thanks to those who have gifted me a coffee through ko-fi too. While I’m still in Lockdown 6.0, it’s really the little things that make a big difference. Until next time! 💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

“Okay,” Santana huffs as she turns to the blonde. “I know Artie’s your friend and you’ve got history and all but fuck that guy. Seriously, what the hell was that?”

Brittany nods along sadly, “I figured you’d say that once you met him.”

“God,” Santana shakes her head still coming down from wanting to cause bodily harm to him. “He really is a tool. Like the balls on him, complimenting you in front of your girlfriend. What a dick!”

“Yeah,” Brittany scratches at the back of her neck. “I told you he’s changed a lot.”

“You mean he used to be less of a dick at some point?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Brittany replies. “He won Most Brilliant Brainiac last year and now he thinks he’s God’s gift.”

Santana scoffs, “A gift that needs to be returned.”

“Stop,” Brittany scolds lightly. “He’s still my friend.”

“Well you sure know how to pick them.”

Brittany frowns and Santana instantly regrets uttering the words. Sometimes her mouth runs faster than her head can filter and by then it’s too late. Usually she wouldn’t feel bad about speaking so honestly but there’s something about the way Brittany pokes out her bottom lip like that that makes Santana falter.

“Sorry,” Santana says guiltily.

Brittany looks to Santana and nods, “I know he’s not the easiest person to get along with now, but he does have his moments.”

“Does he? I mean, what is the appeal?” Santana questions genuinely. “Because the personality is not a winner. I don’t even see him with a hot piece like me for arm candy.”

Brittany chuckles, “Yeah. I’m surprised about that too. I thought he would’ve brought two dates just to show off.”

Santana scrunches her nose in disgust, “It would take more than two dates to change my mind about him. Why does your team keep him around?”

“They love him. He’s so knowledgeable about so many things. He’s perfect for academic decathlons,” Brittany shrugs. “But I’m not sure how long it’ll last. He’s a great mentor but he’s gotten so critical of everyone, even me.”

“Especially you,” Santana corrects. She starts to feel heated all over again, “I can’t believe the way he spoke to you. Who the fuck does he think he is? Like sure, I can find you a little hard to swallow sometimes and it’s annoying how you’re just naturally great at so many things but I’d never say the things he did.”

“Honestly, I’ve heard worse things,” Brittany reasons. It sounds as though she’s trying to be lighthearted but the look on her face is anything but and that breaks Santana’s heart a little. “Artie’s criticism is nothing compared to what people used to say about me growing up.”

Santana frowns, “That doesn’t make it okay though. You know that, right?”

“It’s fine. I’ve got tough skin.”

“That’s not the point,” Santana sighs. “You shouldn’t have to take that kind of crap from anyone.”

“Sometimes you have to,” Brittany replies. “Sometimes you just have to take it and do the hard work in silence. Let the success speak for itself. Getting caught up in what everyone thinks is exactly how I lost my way before, so I’m not going to do it again.”

Santana shakes her head. She gets it – she really does – but it doesn’t make it any less okay.

These little glimpses of Brittany’s childhood really make Santana feel for her. She was fortunate enough to have parents and teachers who encouraged her studies – sometimes in an overbearing ways – but at least she had the support.

For Brittany, it seems like all odds were against her and for some twerp like Artie thinking he gets to be another one of those little voices making Brittany doubt herself really grinds Santana’s gears. He’s the worst kind of manipulative.

“It’s fine, really,” Brittany adds upon Santana’s silence. “I can take it when it’s coming from a friend.”

“Friend?” Santana laughs dismissively, “We’re not even friends and I’d never put you down like that.”

Brittany looks at her curiously and it makes Santana feel suddenly self conscious. Maybe her honesty has gotten her trouble yet again?

“Really?” Brittany asks.

Santana doesn’t hesitate, “Well yeah.”

Brittany’s shoulders ease a little and Santana takes that as a sign to continue.

“I was seriously this close to slapping him upside the head,” She says. “I may be many things and people may have occasionally called me a bitch from time to time, but even I wouldn’t stoop to the level he’s on. I wouldn’t put down my friend.”

Brittany’s brows rise, almost out of disbelief.

Santana wants to ask what that look is, but she’s a little nervous about the answer so instead she averts her attention to the dancefloor. She keeps her eyes roaming the crowd, avoiding meeting Brittany’s gaze.

“He’s just a little blunt,” Brittany attempts to reason again.

Santana shakes her head, “Whatever it is, you’re better off without him.”

Brittany sighs, “I just, I still care about him. I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know. Have you ever felt that before? Wanting to hold out hope for someone to change?”

Santana’s anger dissipates for a second. Those words resonate with her and drudge up an unwanted memory. Has she ever felt the way Brittany does? The blonde has no idea…

Upon her silence, Brittany continues.

“You probably think I’m crazy but,” Brittany lets out a tired sigh. “Maybe I am. I just wish there was a way to bring back the real him – the one that took the time to show me around when I was new here. You know, the one who cared.”

Santana softens, because she knows the feeling all too well and it sucks big time.

“Don’t we all,” She mumbles.

Brittany looks to her, brows raised. Santana finds herself meeting Brittany’s gaze again and it’s like with one look at her the truth is impossible to hold back.

“How long do we have to suffer before we realize they’re not coming back though?” Santana asks. “What if that’s who they are now? This uncaring, unloving, unfazed ghost of a person we can’t even recognize anymore. That’s all we get and we’ve just got to deal with it and…and move on.”

Brittany looks at her curiously.

Santana averts her gaze to the crowd again, “Once again we have way too much in common for my liking.”

“What do you mean?”

Santana sighs, “I mean, you should just cut your losses now before it’s too late.”

Brittany smirks but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Clearly you’ve never been in love before. It’s a bit harder than that. Not that this is love, I don’t know what this is.”

“It’s not love, that’s for sure.”

“Like you’d know,” Brittany jokes lightly.

Santana has the urge to laugh.

She’s almost forgotten that Brittany still doesn’t know that much about her past, because if she did she’d would know that Santana, of all people, knows what it’s like to be in love with someone you wish you weren’t.

“Well, I know it’s better to be told straight up about how you feel rather than to always wonder what went wrong or what could’ve been,” Santana finds herself saying. “But sometimes we don’t get that luxury. Maybe it’s just better to let it go and move on.”

“Or maybe he’ll finally snap out of it and see what he’s been missing now that I’m in this fake relationship with you.”

Santana’s surprised by Brittany’s honesty. The blonde looks surprised that it escaped her, but the two just stand there staring – trying to grasp the gravity of what they’ve both revealed.

Brittany’s using Santana to win over Artie; it’s almost laughable and yet, Santana can do nothing but stare in disbelief. She gets it though; she’s desirable, completely out of someone like Artie’s reach. Dating her would be enough to rattle anyone with eyes so it makes sense.

She knew Brittany was cunning, but it still surprises her. At least Santana’s reasoning for doing all of this has to do with her future, but Brittany? What’s Artie have to do with hers?

Santana scrunches her nose as her head starts filling in the blanks to that question. She pictures Artie in her place beside Brittany; them holding hands as they make their way to class, them making dumb googly eyes at each other at the library, them being this unstoppable power couple because of their success in academic decathlons.

It’s gross.

But who is she to pass judgement? She’s doing all of this because she couldn’t hold down a relationship to save her life, she’s in no position to judge Brittany’s.

And it’s not like this is the first time she’s been used like this before. Some of the girls she has been with only need her for a night, a way to get back at an ex or to make someone jealous. If anything, she’s become kind of an expert when it comes to being the middle-woman.

What’s the difference knowing Brittany’s doing the same? She supposes there isn’t one.

“Well, I guess I’ve found the real reason why you agreed to do this,” Santana says to fill the silence. As the words leave her, there’s an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Brittany looks away and replies, “I guess so.”

There’s a long pause where the two of them look anywhere but at each other. Santana’s gears are moving a mile a minute just trying to figure out the why of it all while Brittany’s – Brittany’s a mystery.

Santana glances back at her curiously, watching her profile and suddenly wanting to know more. How could someone be so blindly hopeful? Who knows if she’ll ever get that answer, but until then she still has to fulfill her obligation to Brittany tonight.

“Well, if this is what you really want to do then,” Santana pauses – trying to shake off the surprise and get back into the zone. Tonight’s about Brittany and being her perfect fake girlfriend and what Brittany wants, Brittany gets. “Then we’ve got to do this the right way. Really show him what he’s missing.”

Brittany quirks a brow, “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Guys like him always want what they can’t have,” Santana says simply. “It’ll be so easy.”

“And what do you suggest?”

Santana smirks, “Just follow my lead.”

\\

Santana’s lead ends up involving lots of flirting. Her goal was to help Brittany make Artie jealous, but she secretly kind of likes the uncomfortable look he gets anytime he happens to glance their way. He’s not so cocky and arrogant now!

It only gets worse when Brittany offers Santana a dance.

They find Mike and Tina again on the dancefloor and the couple waves to Santana and Brittany happily before getting lost in the music again. Santana and Brittany do the same, but it takes them a second before they find their synchronicity.

Afterall, this is their first time dancing together – things are bound to get a little awkward.

Thankfully, it’s all upbeat stuff – songs that are easy to groove to and they find their rhythm a couple songs in. The couple keeps it tame for the most part, almost forgetting what all of this is for, until they notice Artie watching again from a distance.

Brittany notices him first and starts dipping her hands lower and lower down Santana’s back, letting them settle low around her waist. It has Santana’s heart rate spiking until she catches on and starts letting her hands roam too.

“Poor guy,” Santana jokes when she catches sight of him. “He has no idea what he’s started.”

Brittany chuckles although she shakes her head, “It’s almost mean.”

“Fuck him,” Santana shrugs before turning her back to Brittany. She reaches back with one hand settling at the base of Brittany’s neck. “It’s his loss. Isn’t that the point of this?”

“You’re right,” Brittany nods. She leans into the crook of Santana’s neck, “His loss.”

Brittany then sets her hands on Santana’s hips, strong and steady, and pulls her in close so that their hips fit snuggly. It surprisingly tugs at something deep and dormant within Santana and she finds herself leaning into it, rolling her head back to rest against Brittany’s shoulder.

With the way Brittany’s rocking into her along with the beat, Santana has to bite her cheek to keep from making a noise. Who knew someone who spends most of their day in a musty library could move like this? Santana’s a little starstruck to say the least.

She can’t remember the last time she danced with someone like this and she starts to feel the effects of the alcohol and a tiny bit of desperation because it’s been such a long time. It’s actually sad how tightly she’s wound up. She’s sure she’d probably snap from just a touch which is so not her style, but she knows she’s not in the right kind of company to finally break.

She’s on the job; Brittany’s a job and there’s no time for mixing pleasure with work.

But damn, does it feel good when Brittany’s hands squeeze at her hips. Or when she rocks into her so smoothly along with the beat. Or how it sends shivers all over her when Brittany whispers into her ear – she’s not even saying anything risky but God it doesn’t matter.

And even if all of this is for show, Santana’s so deprived of this kind of affection that she doesn’t care – Brittany can use her all night if she wants.

Santana doesn’t begin to notice where her thoughts are taking her until she spots Artie wheeling away.

“He’s leaving,” Santana notes as she turns in Brittany’s embrace.

Brittany’s hands go to rest against the small of Santana’s back, “Do you think he gets the idea?”

Santana smirks and looks up at Brittany, “I think everyone gets the idea.”

A blush starts to bloom as blue eyes dart bashfully away, “Sorry. Was that too much? I was just following your lead like you said.”

“It’s fine. It’s the most action I’ve had in awhile,” Santana jokes.

Brittany gives her a unimpressed look but Santana’s smile only grows because of it.

The music shifts to something slow, old school Elvis. Santana recognizes the instrumental instantly; Maribel and Eddie’s first dance song. Honestly, it’s most couple’s first dance song – apparently you can’t get any more creative than Can’t Help Falling in Love.

She attempts to find her exit, but they’re surrounded by couples now. It would cause way too big of a scene to try and escape, so she goes with her only option. She lets Brittany take the lead and they start to sway.

Santana’s fingers thread at the back of Brittany’s neck while the blonde’s hands fall to Santana’s hips. They do the slow side-to-side move, but the sudden closeness has Santana feeling oddly shy. It’s bringing back memories of school functions and dancing awkwardly with dates she never wanted.

“You really miss it that much?” Brittany asks softly while they sway. “All the hook-ups?”

Santana sputters a laugh, unsure of how to respond, but one look at Brittany has her realizing that the blonde is genuinely asking. Her smile falters and she goes back to looking everywhere but inquisitive blue eyes.

“You gonna shame me for it again?” Santana asks jokingly.

She hates how quickly things between them can feel way too personal for her liking. Even more so, she hates how easy it’s starting to be to want to open up more around the girl.  

“No, I was just curious,” Brittany shrugs. “This probably isn’t what you’re used to doing at a place like this.”

“I’m not usually at places like this.”

“You know what I mean,” Brittany replies. “Parties or clubs or whatever. You wouldn’t be slow dancing with a potential lay. You don’t seem like that kind of girl.”

Santana scoffs playfully, “Well once again, you don’t know me at all. Slow dancing is my jam, it really gets the girls hot and bothered.”

Brittany quirks her brow, “Seriously?”

“Of course not,” Santana chuckles. “I’m usually out of there by the time the slow songs come on. They’re not my style.”

“Knew it.”

“But it’s not horrible,” Santana dismisses as they continue to sway. “I wouldn’t say slow dancing with you is at the top of my list of the worst things I’ve ever had to do.”

Brittany looks surprised, “Oh really?”

“It’s in the Top 5 for sure,” Santana jokes. “But it’s not number one.”

“You’re too kind,” Brittany jokes.

“I try. But hey – you’ve surprisingly got rhythm, Pierce!” Santana compliments. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a dancer.”

Brittany laughs, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Santana chuckles, “First the little thing you’ve got for Wheels and now this? I don’t think I can handle anymore surprises for the rest of night.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “But you’re having fun?”

Santana shrugs, trying to be dismissive but her smile gives her true feelings away. She’s at a fancy place with great music and free alcohol looking fly as hell and one of her missions for the night is to piss off a chauvinistic douchebag – fun is an understatement.

“It’s not the kind of ragers I’m used to,” Santana teases. “But yeah – I’m having fun. Dancing with you is fun.”

Brittany’s face fills with a grin, “Yeah. I think dancing with you is fun too. It’s a bonus that Artie gets a little peeved as well.”

“That’s probably my favorite part,” Santana agrees and they continue dancing for a little while longer.

\\

Santana finds that messing with Artie is child’s play, but it’s oh so satisfying.

Santana and Brittany take turns pretending to whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear once they get to their assigned table. They find it easy to giggle along with one another when their sweet nothings are really just lame pick up lines that would never work in real life. But they say it in these ramped up seductive voices and that makes it all the more hilarious.

Meanwhile, Artie sits across from them with a sourpuss look on his face.

Maybe they’ve gotten away from the point of all this – that being to make Artie jealous – or maybe it really is working? Whatever it is, Santana can’t find it in her to reel them back in, not when it’s this much fun.

\\

Dinner is served not too long after and Santana’s amazed once again by the spread. There’s giant cuts of filet mignon atop a colorful array of fresh Spring veggies. There’s oysters and huge lobster tails and extravagant towers of shrimp! The organizers clearly spared no expense with the menu and Santana excitedly awaits her dinner as the waitstaff start to come around to top up everyone’s wine glasses.

Santana watches as dishes are set down in front of everyone, all alternating between seafood and steak and the occasional vegetarian option. Everything looks so damn good and she glances next to her, wondering what Brittany will get.

“I ordered the shrimp,” Brittany tells her just as the plate is set down. “I got you the steak. I hope that’s okay? I wasn’t too sure.”

“Classy,” Santana nods as her plate is set down too. The garnishes make it look like artwork and she’s almost too afraid to touch it. “God, this looks so good. You didn’t mention there was free food too. This place is heaven.”

Brittany chuckles as she reaches for her cutlery.  

While everyone eats, there’s quiet chatter amongst the table.

Santana’s so glad that Mike and Tina are around, at least that’s one couple that she doesn’t mind. Most people are pretty pretentious – all I’m so much smarter than you because I know random shit about random shit – and it makes Santana want to roll her eyes so hard but she doesn’t for Brittany’s sake.

Unlike Santana, Brittany gets along well with everyone and somehow sees past the horrible personalities. That’s not too surprising considering how she feels about Artie though.

Then again, maybe Brittany was right about there being a nice guy underneath all that ego because when Artie does finally get to talking to her again – he’s not a dick. They talk excitedly about comics or something and Santana notes the way they both light up.

For once, there’s a glimpse of him being a decent human being and maybe – just maybe – Santana sees what Brittany does.

But he’s not off the hook just yet, not after the way he started off the night. She doesn’t want to rock the boat though, so she quietly eats her dinner and plays the role of perfect fake girlfriend just like she said she would. This night isn’t about her, it’s about Brittany and she’s going to do her best to keep it that way.

\\

A while later, dessert begins to be brought out as a few speeches are given up on stage. The announcer talks about the many prestigious teams in the room and how talented everyone is judging by their high percentages. Most of it goes over Santana’s head, not really interested in how academic decathlon clubs work but what does spark some interest though is when the awards start getting presented.

There’s a kind of anticipation that settles over the room and Santana looks around noting just how many clubs are in attendance. She had no idea academic decathlons were a thing until this year, but to see everyone so on edge as they await the reveal of this year’s winner really puts things into perspective for her.

When Santana glances to her side, she finds that Brittany’s got her eyes squeezed tight and her fingers are crossed on both hands. As she looks around the room, she sees club members look similarly – hoping and praying.

The Brainiacs happen to come in Second Place in the overall thing, but Brittany stands and claps along with everyone else despite things not going her team’s way. Santana watches her and smiles because this girl really is just so pure. Here she is clapping and pumping her fist in the air as the first place team take to the stage. Nothing about it is forced because she’s genuinely happy for them and that amazes Santana.

She didn’t think people like Brittany actually existed and yet there she stands.

\\

The lead up for presenting the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is much more anticipated.

Santana looks around the room as it seems like everyone’s on the edge of their seat. It’s almost comical, because it’s basically an award for the biggest nerd in the room and these people actually want it.

Still, Santana listens quietly.

She notices Artie fixing his dumb bowtie and checking his teeth in the reflection of his silver spoon as if he already knows what’s coming. She so hopes he doesn’t win just because of that. She doesn’t care who it goes to, she doesn’t care if it’s an even bigger tool than him – if that’s even possible – all she cares about is watching the guy get the biggest reality check known to man.

Suddenly, she’s on the edge of her seat just like everyone else.

“This year the award goes to,” The announcer pauses for dramatic effect.

Santana’s still waiting for the name to be called out, but the spotlight shining directly beside her is answer enough.

“No way!” Brittany beams. She doesn’t know what to do with herself, she just looks from side to side making sure that the spotlight is on the right person. “Me? It’s me?”

“Come on up, Miss Pierce!” The announcer gestures proudly.

Their entire table turns to applaud. Santana notices Mike with the biggest grin on his face as he claps while Tina’s snapping picture after picture for her article.

Brittany’s in awe as she makes her way onto the stage, the crowd roaring with applause as she goes. When she gets to the podium, the man hands her a gold trophy shaped like a brain and then presents her to the room.

“Here she is, folks! This year’s Most Brilliant Brainiac! Give it up for Miss Brittany S. Pierce!”

Before she realizes it, Santana’s on her feet in a second and claps so hard her hands start to sting.

“That’s my girl!” She shouts and pumps her fist in the air.

Brittany must hear her from the stage because she ducks her head bashfully at the shout out, her cheeks going a little pink as she soaks in the applause.

Santana glances over at Artie who barely claps. She rolls her eyes at him, because he yet again shows his true colors. How he flies under the radar is a mystery to her, but Brittany’s not around to hold her back this time.

So she points a threatening finger at him and rubs a little salt in his ego.

“Take that, Professor X! You suck so bad!”

Artie looks a little scandalized, but he keeps his mouth shut as Brittany absorbs the limelight. She looks at her trophy like she can’t believe its hers and Santana swears she sees those pretty blue eyes start to well with tears. This time they’re happy tears though and Santana’s so relieved for that!

A moment later, Brittany’s making her way back to their table with her new trophy in hand.

“Look! It’s so heavy,” Brittany giggles as she shows off the award to Santana.

Santana smiles fondly. Only Brittany could be this proud about being the dorkiest dork in the room. She doesn’t know what it is about the way she looks, the way her eyes light up to match the brilliance of her smile, the way they seem to be even bluer than usual.

All she knows is that she can’t help but pull Brittany in for a deep kiss.

She can feel the way Brittany stiffens in her arms at first before relaxing – the kiss takes her by surprise too, she can only imagine what Brittany’s thinking.

Alarm bells ring but then she feels a cool hand touch her cheek and suddenly everything stops because she’s being kissed back.

Brittany’s kissing her back.

It’s soft and gentle and when Santana pulls away, she’s swears she sees stars.

All Santana’s thinking about is the way Artie spoke to Brittany earlier, how he scolded her like a child. She thinks about Brittany’s parents and how they never truly supported her until recently. She thinks about the stories Brittany’s told about her experiences in high school and her time at MIT. She thinks about how after all of that, Brittany’s still maintained her kindness.

Brittany’s better than her, she’s so much better than everyone here, and she doesn’t even know it.

And maybe Santana’s just really proud of her – that’s why she kissed her? Maybe she’s just really into her whole fake girlfriend role right now? Maybe she’s just super committed and she’s finally matched Brittany’s level of going above and beyond?

That’s got to be the explanation for it, because no way she’ll admit to it being anything else.

“I’m so proud of you,” Santana quickly says. “Way to stick it to those guys.”

Brittany blushes, “I really didn’t expect anyone to vote for me. I hope they’re not mad.”

“Fuck them if they are!” Santana retorts. “You worked so hard for this. If they can’t be supportive of you then they don’t deserve you as a teammate.”

Brittany relaxes upon hearing Santana’s words, “You mean that?”

Santana smiles and nods like it’s simple, “Well yeah. You’re a genius, Britt.”

Brittany grins again and looks down at her trophy bashfully, “I’m also Brilliant.”

“Yeah, that too,” Santana chuckles.

They go to take their seats when they realize everyone’s kind of staring at them still. Santana doesn’t care all that much, Brittany deserves the recognition. She finds a kind of joy in making sure she knows it too.

“Seriously though, congrats,” Santana tells her. “You really earned it.”

Brittany ducks her head before leaning closer and whispers low enough so only Santana can hear. The move makes Santana’s heart suddenly race as she’s reminded of their time on the dancefloor earlier.

“Is that you talking or my fake girlfriend?” Brittany asks.

Santana bites her lip as she ponders that. For the first time, it’s kind of hard to tell. This arrangement is like being on-call; you never know when they have to slip into character so now it’s second nature and maybe it’s finally starting to blur the lines which Santana didn’t think would ever be possible.

But just to be safe she says, “I’m a pretty good actress. Aren’t I?”

Brittany only smirks as they both start to giggle and admire her new trophy while Artie stews in his jealousy.

\\

They spend the rest of the Ball taking pictures with Brittany’s trophy for the school magazine and hitting the dancefloor once again.

Obviously, the dancing is the best part and by now everyone’s got a good buzz going with the amount of booze in the place. It’s surprisingly a good time – one of the best Santana’s had in months and it’s even more surprising that it’s in Brittany’s company.

If you would’ve told her at the start of the semester that this is where she’d be right now, she wouldn’t have believed you at all. Never in a million years would she be caught dead in a place like this, but it’s funny how things change – how relationships evolve.

Just tonight, she walked into this Ball wondering if she even stood a chance up against Brittany’s wrath. She really messed up, she knows that, but all of this is new territory for her. She’s not used to looking out for anyone else other than her family and Puck, but she’s starting to get it now.

If Brittany was anyone else, Santana probably wouldn’t have cared about her hurt feelings the other night. She would’ve let the girl go without a second thought because who has time to put up with the drama, but this relationship has her doing a lot of things she normally wouldn’t.

It’s reintroducing her to things that have been long forgotten and Santana doesn’t really know how to feel about that. It’s drudging up the old Santana; the vulnerable, the gullible, the sensitive one who has no place here now.

It’s a lot more than she signed up for, but she supposes it’s only natural to have those feelings start to resurface again when they’re both so committed to playing their roles perfectly. If anything, it’s a reminder that once upon a time Santana really was perfect girlfriend material.

And tonight, she gets to live out that little memory.

Maybe if her heartbreak didn’t harden her, maybe this is what she’d be like? Maybe she’d actually date a girl like Brittany? Maybe she’d stop selling herself short just like Puck said? Maybe she’d stick around long enough for something real to happen?

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

It always takes Santana by surprise that when she gets to thinking like this, it’s always in the presence of Brittany. This girl; Santana knew being with her would be a challenge but not like this. She can’t hold it against her though, after all this is her idea and really it could be so much worse than what it is.

They don’t really owe each other anything, they’re just pawns in their elaborate games – but here they are dancing the night away without a care in the world and for once things feel fine.

It’s a nice break from all that heaviness from earlier.

And for a moment, Santana doesn’t think it’s all too bad. The whole possibility of being friends with Brittany thing; when it’s like this, it really isn’t the worst thing ever.

She might actually kind of like it.

Other than Puck, Santana doesn’t really have that many people she’s close with. She doesn’t have many people she’d consider friends. For the past two years, maybe even longer, she’s kept people at an arm’s length.

After everything, she’s just not into getting close to anyone anymore. Letting people into her shit sounds like a lot of work and kind of terrifying.

What if they don’t like what they find? What if she’s too much? What if they decide to leave too? What if it changes her again?

It’s too big of a risk. It’s best that she does the leaving instead. It’s the only way she can keep some type of control on things, because no way she’ll let anyone go for a joyride with her feelings again.

She likes to keep her circle small, but being around Brittany starts to make her wonder. What’s the harm in trying?

A thought like that makes her laugh though; that hopefulness is a direct result of hanging around Brittany way too much.

“It’s so hot in here! Why’s it so hot?” Brittany sighs and wipes at her brow with the back of her hand. Her cheeks are flushed and sweat glistens in the hollow of her neck deliciously.

Santana averts her eyes when she realizes she’s staring.

“You’re dancing up a storm, that’s why!” Santana teases.

“Because it’s so much fun!” Brittany does a twirl then starts to sway when she stops. “The dizziness…not so much.”

“Maybe don’t spin around like that?” Santana suggests playfully. “You want to go outside? Get some air?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Brittany nods but just before she follows after Santana she runs back to the table. “Mike! Mike, watch my trophy!”

Mike drunkenly nods and gives her a thumbs up.

“Thanks! Okay, let’s go,” Brittany tells Santana and leads the way out.

They end up going to the grand steps Santana walked up earlier in the night and take a seat by one of the columns. The air is crisp and refreshing compared to the stuffiness inside and it’s such a relief. They rest their heads back and soak it in.

“You see Artie’s face when I won?” Brittany giggles.

Santana smirks, “Oh yeah. That prick; I was hoping he’d lose. Makes it even better that it was to you.”

“I know I shouldn’t think it but,” Brittany pauses to take in a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh. “I’m glad he lost too. Maybe it’ll bring him down a notch.”

Santana chuckles, “Hopefully it’ll bring him down a few notches. That guy is a piece of work. I still can’t believe you’re into him.”

Brittany ducks her head and sighs again as they fall into a comfortable silence.

Even if Brittany doesn’t show it, Santana can feel something’s gone unsaid.

They haven’t talked about the kiss from earlier, but maybe there’s nothing that they need to talk about? They’re out in public, it goes without saying that they have to do what normal couples would – like kiss when your girlfriend wins an award.

Why would they need to talk about it? It’s not like it was the first time they’ve ever done that. Then again, when Santana gets to thinking – the last time was New Year’s Eve.

Maybe Santana’s just overthinking it all? This is why she doesn’t do relationships or feelings – real or not! They’re confusing and annoying and she doesn’t want it.

God, she wishes she was on Brittany’s level of tipsy. That would make things so much easier!

“You know when we were talking before, you said that we’ve got too much in common,” Brittany mentions awhile later. She keeps her eyes turned up to the sky as she asks, “What’d you mean by that?”

The question takes Santana by surprise as she tries to remember their conversation from earlier. When she does, she wishes that she didn’t. It’s not a subject she loves talking about, nor does she love revisiting its memories, but for some odd reason she can feel her safeguard wavering.

“I guess I was in your place once with Artie,” Santana replies. “Sort of.”

“You were into him too?”

Santana chuckles at the joke, “No way. I mean, I fell for someone I shouldn’t have.”

“What happened?”

Santana pauses, wondering if she wants to go down this road. The only other person she’s ever talked about all this to is Puck and that’s only because he was partly involved. She’s done her best to bury every feeling, every memory, but there’s something about Brittany that has Santana opening up just a little more.

“There was a girl a long time ago,” Santana finds herself saying before glancing Brittany’s way. “The one from the picture in my room back in Lima.”

Brittany nods and quietly encourages her to continue.

“She was my best friend growing up,” Santana says. “The only one who ever understood me. We were close, closer than friends should be. Eventually, I wanted to be more – make things official.”

“You?” Brittany asks in disbelief.

“I know, shocking,” Santana jokes through a sad smile. “She said she wanted it too, but she was afraid. She wanted to keep things hidden, keep us hidden, and I…I loved her so I followed along.”

Santana feels her chest tighten with that long-forgotten pain, but then Brittany’s hand finds hers. She squeezes softly at her hand and suddenly the feeling isn’t so bad.

“She kept saying one day it’ll be different,” Santana goes on. “One day we won’t have to hide, one day we’d just run off together, but until then we had to pretend. It sounded like a good plan and I felt so strongly about her, so I waited. I watched her get into relationships with guy after guy just to keep people off of our scent, off of her scent.”

“The older we got, the further in the closest she went. It was like she forget that it was all a cover and the life she was living was a lie.”

Brittany nods sympathetically.

“I ended up coming out midway through our Junior year,” Santana says. “I thought that maybe if I went first then she’d see that it was okay, but it kind of had the opposite effect. Something happened, maybe her parents divorce or something else? I don’t know, but she changed and not in a good way. I was out and proud but it was hard when the girl I loved wasn’t. It kind of felt pointless but I kept waiting for her.”

“By Senior year, I started to lose hope. I guess she did too because it stopped being about us running off together. Instead it was only her doing the running,” Santana continues. “While everyone was making their big plans for college, she was a mystery.”  

She starts to feel that annoying lump in her throat forming and swallows it back.

“All I knew was that she was getting out of Lima by any means necessary,” She says with a deep sigh. “She was so closed off though, spiraling even. I had no idea what her plans were anymore. No one did. I just didn’t think that it involved stealing my shot at a scholarship.”

“Wait, what?” Brittany frowns. “What scholarship?”

“My school had this partnership with Harvard,” Santana answers half-heartedly. “An alumni or whatever is a big wig there and has this scholarship aimed at students with extraordinary promise in law. It’s such a waste, really. No one usually goes for it because no one ever dreams of getting out of there nor would they dare go to law school, but getting out of Lima was always our dream. With her family background, she could get in easy but me? It was a little harder. That scholarship was my only shot and she took it.”

“How’d she do that?”

Santana shrugs, “It’s always been a mystery. Out of the entire school, we were the only ones who even cared enough to look into it. We agreed before that with my GPA and personal goals that I’d have the better chance of getting it, but that was before things changed. It’s no coincidence that she got in and not me. I ticked every box when it came to the type of candidate they were looking for.”

“You couldn’t tell the organizers about it?” Brittany asks. “Have them kick her out or something?”

Santana sighs, “I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Why not? Santana, that’s seriously unfair. This is your education, something you’re so passionate about.”

“I know,” Santana answers dejectedly. “Believe me, I know. But, I was young and in love and stupid. I still had hope for some reason, hope that she’d snap out of it? I knew she took her parents divorce really hard and things had changed for her in terms of getting into Harvard with their help. Maybe she needed the scholarship more than me?”

“Even so, that’s not the way to go about it. That’s not fair to you.”

“True,” Santana nods. “But a part of me figured that maybe once she got in and got settled, she’d be okay? Maybe we’d be okay again. Maybe getting out of Lima was something she needed way more than I did? I guess I was wrong though.”

Brittany looks to Santana apologetically but Santana hates that look. She hates being seen as anything but confident and sure and unwavering.

“See? Told you I’m not selfish,” Santana tries to joke to ease the tension.

It doesn’t really change the way Brittany watches her though.

“Yeah, I guess you were right.”

“Surprise,” Santana lets out a weak chuckle as she averts her gaze. “It sure did backfire though. Huh?”

“Have you heard from her since?” Brittany asks. “Did she ever apologize?”

“Hell no,” Santana tries to laugh off the pain. “She didn’t even stick around for our graduation ceremony. She just packed up and left. No goodbye or anything.”

“Wow,” Brittany shakes her head. “How could someone who’s supposed to care about you hurt you like that?”

Santana finds herself smirking as she looks to Brittany. She has no idea she’s in the same sort of situation with Artie. It’s always easier making sense of things when it isn’t your problem though she supposes.

“Anyway, it’s whatever,” Santana waves off. “It’s been two years and I still wonder why the hell I gave up a Harvard education for a girl. Love makes you do dumb shit, it’s the worst.”

Brittany goes to squeeze Santana’s hand again, “I’m so sorry, Santana.”

Santana keeps on her brave face, “It’s fine.”

“It isn’t.”

Santana knows, but she just shrugs. What’s the point of feeling sorry for herself now?

“I guess what I was meaning earlier is that,” Santana continues. “Maybe this thing between you and Artie; it’s better for you in the long run if you spare yourself the heartache and accept that people change. Sometimes it’s for the worst and you can’t do a thing about it. It is what it is, you know? You can wait but it’s only wasting your time in the end – take it from me.”

Brittany nods and they both rest back against the column again, sitting in each other’s company in silence. It’s like Brittany’s taking in all that Santana has said while Santana attempts to pack up all those little memories she’s just drudged up and stuff them away.

“People change for the better too though,” Brittany mentions quietly. “Sometimes all that patience and time you put into waiting ends up being worth it.”

“Maybe,” Santana nods. “I just don’t know how to be that optimistic anymore. I’m too tired.”

“I get that,” Brittany replies and leans her head against Santana’s.

Santana finds herself leaning against Brittany too, relaxing against each other in a peaceful balance. Another comfortable silence settles over them and Santana’s thankful for it. After opening up to Brittany, she doesn’t think she can handle anymore of these heart to hearts.

Another reason she keeps to herself, talking about feelings is exhausting.

“You know…I didn’t say it before because I was still kind of mad at you,” Brittany mentions softly. “But I’m glad you changed your mind about tonight. I’m glad you’re here.”

Santana smirks, feeling a giddiness flutter in her chest that chases off the remaining heaviness there. “Yeah well, picturing you suffer here all alone with these losers wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. Thought I’d come see it for myself.”

Brittany snickers and pokes lightly at Santana’s side.

“Sounds like you might be taking a liking to me,” Brittany teases.

Santana scoffs playfully, “God no.”

“I mean, if you really wanted me to suffer you could’ve worn something that would make you look a little less…”

Santana glances over to find Brittany stumbling on the right word. The hesitance makes her smirk.

“Hot? You were going to say hot.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t.”

“Sure,” Santana teases. “You can admit it, Britt-Britt. You think I look fine as hell.”

Brittany shakes her head although she begins to blush. “You always this full of yourself?”

“You should know the answer to that by now,” Santana quips as she rises to stand. She strikes a sexy pose while Brittany continues to sit before her. “Come on. Would you really rather I turn up here looking a hot mess? I wouldn’t be doing a very good job of being arm candy.”

Brittany’s eyes rake up Santana’s body, taking in all her perfection. Just like the powers of her cheerleading skirt, Santana’s dress works wonders all the same.

“I guess not,” Brittany admits.

Santana grins, “That’s what I thought.”

“But you’re not just arm candy to me,” Brittany teases sweetly.

Santana instantly rolls her eyes and holds out her hand to Brittany, “Let’s get back in there. I think it’s time for another drink. I can still taste your Chapstick from earlier.”

Brittany giggles as Santana pulls her up, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

[spookyheaad]

Haphephobia talk

BIG TRIGGER WARNING: brief mentions of rape/coercion, mentions of suicidal ideation, self harm, physical and mental abuse, as well as dehumanization. This one is kinda heavy.

.

.

.

Hi again! Currently horizontal on my couch because I have full body aches from the second covid shot and my head is killing me, but I expected this to happen as it’s normal for the second vaccine to knock you out for a day or two.

Anyway, I had a realization earlier that I write both Gild Tesoro of “One Piece”, as well as Death from “Darksiders” with Haphephobia - which is “a fear of touching or being touched”. While I write them with this phobia, it manifests within them differently, and I figured I would share some differences, and headcanons for both characters (it’s been so long since I’ve talked about my sassy depressed Nephilim husband; I miss you, Death ❤️❤️). Also with Death, I ship him with an OC I created, named Zemira. I don’t think I’ve shared a lot about her on tumblr, but I’ll be making a whole post about her another time; just know I’ll be mentioning her occasionally.

So I’ll be talking about Death’s haphephobia first, it’s a little more heavy (deadass trigger warning here for the brief mentions of rape. Skip this part if you need to):

.

.

.

So I must start out with the obligatory mentioning of that accursed chapter from The Abomination Vault:

Death and War have to seek out Lilith and gain information from her. Death is viciously adamant for War to stay outside & away from that woman, but war protests and wishes to come in with him. Death, nearly resorting to beating his brother into submission, demands him to stay outside, and War finally relents.

When the eldest Horseman goes in to see Lilith, one of the first things she says to him is something along the lines of “this isn’t a social call, is it?”. I truly forget what else is mentioned, but there are a few times where Lilith tries to mention things of a (supposed) sexual nature towards Death, and he abruptly and angrily cuts her off. The one thing I remember Lilith saying to Death was her saying that Death was always a “sensitive boy” which makes my stomach fucking churn.

What is heavily implied in this scene, to me, is that Death and Lilith at some point in the past, had sexual encounters with one another that Death is very much extremely embarrassed and ashamed of, and with Lilith’s ability to seduce any being regardless if they want to partake or not, it’s safe to say that Death could have possibly been coerced into said sexual activity. Lilith’s ability to seduce is described almost like a date-rape drug to me, it causes people to fall under some kind of spell or go into a trance; what is a big uh-oh to me is when Death describes that War would be weak to Lilith’s wiles, or her tricks. So she is definitely capable of coercing people in any way to get what she wants. Also fucking keep in mind that Lilith refers to Death as her SON, which adds a whole new level of “what the fuck” to that situation; it’s just icky.

I feel that Death, because of this run in (or run-ins) with Lilith, developed a massive fear of being touched, which is backed up in canon in Darksiders 2. He does not allow anyone to physically touch him under any circumstance; when Death arrived in the Makers’ realm, Eideard touched his chest where the amulet pieces are embedded. Death recoils quickly and with a venomous growl, states: “Don’t touch me!”

Then of course when he goes to visit Lilith, she touches his chest as well, and he physically pushes her hand away from his body. She also refers to herself as Death’s mother, and Death angrily states: “You are not my mother!” Also from the moment Death sets foot in Lilith’s domain, he is not thrilled to be there, and acts very different towards her; more defensive, more on guard it seems.

So this headcanon stems from all of that; he will not let anyone touch him, it’s just that severe. Where my OC comes in, I actually have a story on AO3 titled “Haphephobia” and it shows how Death & Zemira try to get past this aversion to touch, so 1.) Zemira can give him affection and 2.) Death can allow himself to be loved. I’ll link it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860320/chapters/73476759

Death cannot even bring himself to hold her hand in the very beginning. So Zemira started there, holding his hand, physical closeness, and very slowly, started working to larger forms of touch. Obviously this gave Death massive amounts of anxiety, so this is why the process is extremely slow. It makes it even more important to go slow because Death tries to hide any weak emotions, so the physical and mental stress he puts himself under is tenfold.

I think that’s all for Death. His Haphephobia is extremely severe, from the specific traumas he has experienced, possibly being forced into sexual activity with his god damn “”mother””, as well as hiding his sensitivity and kindness (my headcanons for why he does that is a whole other post waiting to be written) and just not believing he is deserving of such love and care.

Ok, now for Tesoro (specific Trigger warnings here for mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, physical/mental abuse)

.

.

.

So I just recently realized that I wrote Tesoro with symptoms of Haphephobia; also compared to Death, it isn’t as severe or debilitating, but no less harmful to the person going through it.

For Tesoro I think it was sparked by a mix of guilt and insecurity, obviously as well as his past abuse from both his mother and the Celestial Dragons. But in Film Gold it’s obvious that he doesn’t have an issue with being touched, I’m referencing the scene with the pool girls. I think in canon, he’s on high alert when someone goes to touch him, especially if it’s someone he is not familiar with, or does not like. It’s more of an automatic thing that he learned to suppress over time, especially because he absolutely craves attention and affection, and his fear of touch gets in the way of that.

So in a way, he did learn how to work through it, but it wasn’t proper or healthy, and because of that it’s still there in the back of his mind. I also believe that he doesn’t like people pinning him by the wrists/hands/arms or holding him down in any way, or being bound (sexual or non sexual, he does not like it). It triggers severe panic and flashbacks, so, it’s a big no.

In terms of if he were to be around Stella, it becomes heightened. It’s not that he’s afraid of her; he knows her well. He is afraid for her sake, that he would hurt her in some way simply by allowing her to touch him. All through his life, Tesoro was made to feel like he wasn’t worth the space he took up in his existence. His mother did not love him, the one person that could have given him some form of gentle gesture. She instead hurt him, screamed at him, made him feel worthless. Then we all know about the celestial dragons; they didn’t even see Tesoro as a human, and that mixed with the beatings from both the celestial dragons and his mother, he is weary to allow others to get close.

After Stella died, In his heart of hearts Tesoro genuinely thought that he was unloveable, mainly because of his mother. The one woman who brought him into this world didn’t care about his dreams or his well-being, so then how can anyone else? Then, when he found the single person that cared about him, she was whisked away from him without a second thought. Tesoro feels doomed to observe yet never experience the love and kindness that the world had to offer.

That mixed with Haphephobia makes him very cautious of others, and in the case of Stella, vehemently afraid. He loves her, and she loves him in return; Tesoro knows this full well, (we’re headed to the “if Stella survived” AU) after they reunite he is so afraid to touch her and it’s painful to him when she touches his body. It’s another source of frustration and anger because he knows that he is still in love with her, but his own body is trying to push her away. He would tear open his body for the apprehension to leave, to finally feel the comfort he yearned for within Stella’s embrace. No more fear, no more being brought to tears because he felt he didn’t deserve her kindness, no more guilt.

Both he & Death feel unloveable but for different reasons:

Death feels unloveable because of the atrocities he has committed, specifically the Nephilim Genocide & the creation of the Grand Abominations. He feels knee-crushing amounts of guilt for taking part in such events, and he puts up a facade of being an uncaring monster, when he is very much the opposite. He has kindness to give, yet is afraid to show it because of that idea that he is to be seen as nothing but an attack dog for the Charred Council. But this is also the same Nephilim who was so tired of making things that took life, and chose to make something that gave life instead, and gifted said item to his sister, Fury. This is the same Nephilim who took his own life to prove that his youngest brother War did not start the apocalypse. He cares so deeply, has insurmountable love to give, yet feels incapable of doing so.

Tesoro thinks he is unloveable because the world conditioned him to view himself as such. The extreme abuse he suffered told him that he is trash; an afterthought whose only use is as a punching bag or a wasted body to rend flesh from. Ants had more worth in this world than he, and Tesoro knew it. All it took was Stella, one person, for him to see that he is worthy of such a thing, that nothing that went on in their pasts was his fault, and that he does deserve to be given gentle touches, soft reassuring hugs, feather-light kisses, and that he is able to be loved.

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: empty out your heart for me

Author: @karasuprince

For: @midnight-run-amok

Ratings/Warnings: mentions of remnants of despair, self-loathing/hate, language, hurt-to-comfort

Prompt: figuring out how they feel about each other

Author’s Notes: hi hi i hope you enjoy reading this!! i am still not used to writing for others but this was a very nice prompt and i had a lot of fun with it ^^ i am also sorry if there are any uncaught grammar errors/etc., english isn’t my native language. but um yes here it is <3

  the skies above him are a clear, bright blue that set his mind at ease. the ocean surrounds him and makes him and the island feel small, makes him feel as though he’s nothing, and for once in his life it is a very welcome change. it’s a very welcome feeling, compared to being put on a pedestal one too many times on the island, decided upon as a leader without his knowing (or consent, for the matter.) the tide rises and he’s ankle deep in water, though he doesn’t really care, and his feet are bare, anyway. he’s alone, even if just for a few moments, and this silence and tranquility is something he can enjoy. because this past week, and all the days before spent on this island, he’s spent so much time with the others that he’s forgotten how silence sounded like, save for the few peaceful mornings before a day of running around and helping the others with various tasks and favours. hinata’s forgotten how to think in peace, and now, simply being able to walk on a beach by himself, feels like utter bliss. “you’d think i’d be able to swim any time i want on a fucking island.” he grumbles to himself, paying no attention to what’s ahead of him. “not the case, though. not even when there’s a pool.” it isn’t the lack of being able to swim that bothers him, of course, but rather the lack of being able to spend his time on his own will. excluding nanami’s constant snooze fests ­­– which, he thinks gives him much more worry and stress than they should – hinata’s found that there’s only one person on the island that, he can really spend quiet, calming moments with. hinata isn’t helping him, so much as he’s helping hinata, whether it’s talking to him about meaningless things, or listening to hinata until hinata feels like he’s gotten whatever stress he’s gained lately off his chest by talking to him alone. but there’s something about him that hinata can’t really understand, or some part of him that he can’t reach. he’s nice, and he’s a good friend, and hinata cares about him – maybe a bit more than he’d like to admit. he gets along with everyone for the most part (even saionji, who practically has a grudge against everyone but koizumi and himself), but as far as he knows, hinata, and perhaps nanami, are his only friends. and maybe that’s because, he has walls raised high. hinata can tell, by the way he shuts out his own feelings or opinions on anything, or has little regard for his well being and, even happiness. it worries hinata, and it upsets him a little – alright, a lot – especially given the fact that there are moments where he goes to extra lengths to help others, but not himself. hinata trusts him the most, and hinata just wishes he’d trust him back. the water around his feet stills. hinata blinks, glancing down. the water, flat and smooth, and too perfectly still to be part of the ocean, sends ripples towards him, and he moves his eyes, looking up and towards the source. the jagged end of the army green coat meets his eyes first, and then a pale neck, before finally hinata’s eyes meet komaeda’s. komaeda is a distance away from him – not too far, yet not that close, either, and hinata closes in on the distance, each footstep sending ripples into the never-ending water, until he’s only a few feet away from him. hinata’s lips part, but komaeda speaks first, eyes crinkling in that soft smile of his. “i didn’t know you thought so highly of someone such as me, hinata-kun.” his voice is soft, gentle, and it both puts hinata at calm and sends his heart beating a little faster. his words sink in. “w-wait, did i – i didn’t say that out loud, did i–?” hinata’s cheeks feel warm. komaeda’s smile shows amusement. hinata can’t read his eyes just yet. “hinata-kun, i don’t need to hear your thoughts to know. we’re…friends, aren’t we? i can read you very well by now.” bullshit, but hinata doesn’t really push it, moving his hand to the back of his neck. “of course i care about you, komaeda. you matter a lot to me – i’m…fond of you.” at this, komaeda chuckles again, and it sends a shiver down hinata’s spine – the good or bad kind, he can’t tell. “hinata-kun…” he says again, and he walks closer, and closer, the ripples growing smaller towards hinata with each step, until komaeda is so close that he can feel his breath on his cheek. hinata turns pink. “…i didn’t ask whether you cared about me or not, simply that you thought of me that much.” hinata feels embarrassed, then stupid, and then embarrassed again. “i-i mean, i – they’re the same, aren’t they?” he grumbles. komaeda’s hand moves to cup hinata’s right cheek. he feels like he’s going to fucking combust. “you know they’re not.” “hinata-kun,” he whispers. hinata looks straight into his eyes – and he wishes he didn’t. because he doesn’t see the usual calm gray green pair of eyes. stormy, swirling eyes meet his gaze, so chilling he feels the air drop a few degrees. and then he realizes that the sky’s darkened, storm clouds forming, crackling, pent up anger and tension threatening to rain down, winds ice cold that run through his hair and whip komaeda’s around, giving him a more chilling, an even more intimidating look. the hand on his cheek is cold as metal.

“hinata-kun, do you still care about me? even now?” hinata dreads the way he looks at him, dreads how his hand is still on his face, still gentle. hinata wants to say something, but komaeda isn’t done, moving his other hand to grip hinata’s shoulder. “do you accept all of me? can you accept all of me? or am i too…disturbing?” komaeda lets out a small laugh. hinata grits his teeth. he wants words to come out. he tries to get words out. he opens his mouth and he yells and he screams but the winds and crackling thunder silence him – no, deafen him until he can’t hear his own words, and komaeda is at the center of it all, the eye of the storm. pushing hinata farther and farther away no matter how hard he tries to reach out. hinata extends his arm, reaching for him. he opens his mouth. “komaeda, please, of course i do – you’re not – i care about you, i really, really do –” and komaeda looks at him, as the water beneath their feet swirls and swirls and swirls, dragging hinata in, looks at him, complete and utter apathy on his face. his lips part. “then what’s keeping you from saying so?”

–

  his nightmares are always abstract and full of shit, hinata decides, sitting up and rubbing his face. it isn’t the first one he’s had ever since their escape from the simulation, and he’s certain it likely won’t be the last – though, compared to more recent ones, hinata can say this was relatively calm. it definitely lacked the violence and horrors of other ones, from memories of being a remnant, from memories of the island. yet this one, this one was more concerning, and more painful. because this nightmare, unlike the others, was about komaeda, or more specifically, what hinata thought, and feared of him, how he felt around him, about him. he moves a hand over his red eye, sighing. it’s like his brain was trying to fucking call him out, and really? it wasn’t wrong.

hinata never considered himself brave, always thinking of himself a coward, especially when younger, and truthfully, even after pulling everyone out of their despair, he still thinks himself one. because out of all the words he’s said, every word that has ever left his mouth, he still can’t get the most important feelings out…to the person most important to him. to komaeda.

having troubles, are you? the back of his mind no longer feels empty. while they had merged, hinata doesn’t really…feel, or notice kamukura’s input most of the time, whether it’s a choice the latter made, or them being in perfect harmony a majority of the time. he thinks it’s the first option, because the second one sort of sounds like a load of bullshit, but then again, he doesn’t really know, nor is he that intent on finding out for sure.

“noo, i’m having a mini-crisis that’s giving me wonderful nightmares that i can’t get enough of.” hinata’s been told that his smart-assery will get him in trouble one day. so far, it’s gotten him in trouble a total of twenty-seven times, but he isn’t about to stop. deflect all you want, but it says more than a definite answer. he kinda hates how kamukura’s always right. stupid ultimate knowledge and shit. what exactly is your problem? you are able to understand your own dreams better than i would.

hinata lets out another sigh, taking a few moments. “…i’ve been…not avoiding him, no, because if anything he’s been avoiding me, but i…” he trails off. “there are things, i struggle to say. feelings i keep in, that i can’t get out. that i don’t know how to put into words.” those two sentences alone took a fat load of energy out of him to form, when it really shouldn’t have. he’s been avoiding everyone, hasn’t he? “yeah…fuck, yeah. and i don’t know – well. no, i know why. at least i’m pretty sure i have an idea of why. but i don’t know why out of everyone, he’s been avoiding…me, especially.” he hates the hurt evident in his voice, but hinata doesn’t make much effort to hide it, if any effort at all. kamukura is silent, and hinata thinks he’s a bit of a bitch. “i just,” he continues, getting out of bed and pacing around the room.

“i know he hates himself – i know that he thinks he’s unlovable, uncared for, and that fucking hurts to think, let alone know as a fact. but if anything, i thought that – that i was…different? it’s so goddamn selfish of me, but i thought – i hoped – that i…that at least with me, he felt…” safe. happy. comfortable enough to say the truth. he can’t get any of those things out of his mouth. kamukura decides to speak up, and you are upset? “of course i’m fucking upset!” his voice is louder than he means it to be, especially since the person he’s talking to is inside his own fucking head. “of course,” he starts again, more quiet this time, “i’m upset that he doesn’t…talk to me anymore. and i know it’s a joint effort, but i don’t know…how to approach him anymore. or if what i’ll say will even be enough. or what i even want to say exactly, for that matter.”

walking into the bathroom, he splashes water on his face, deciding he isn’t going back to sleep any time soon. your problem is that he is avoiding everyone. and you do not think you will be able to say anything that will change that fact, right? and your other problem is that you want to say something, beyond this…situation. what is that something, hajime? what truth are you afraid of?

hinata is silent this time. he does want to say something to komaeda, something he’s been longing to for a while, and then there is the part of him that does not want to say it out loud. that does not want to even confirm it within himself, because… “i don’t…want to end up being the only one who feels this way. i’m not scared of – of rejection, or some stupid shit like that. i don’t think i’ll make things worse in our friendship if i say, what i want to say.

but i’m scared, that it’s only going to be me who cares this much, who’s this attached, and that he doesn’t – he doesn’t care. or that he doesn’t care anymore, and that nothing i can say will even change that. i know he’s – he’s difficult, he’s definitely different. he’s a good person but he, has a bit more shit to make up for than the rest of us do, in his eyes and some others’, anyway.”

hinata agrees that he has done awful shit like the rest of them, some moments, some bad decisions that would end up irreversible even with the ‘it was a virtual world!’ getaway card.  he thinks back to the first trial on the island, to the second-to-last one, and to nanami, and his chest tightens a little. “yeah, he’s definitely done some things he shouldn’t have, but he fucking acknowledges it. and he’s – he’s avoiding everyone, but he’s – i don’t think komaeda’s doing it because he doesn’t want to apologise, or, or some dumb shit like that.

i think it’s because he…” his voice tightens a little. do not get worked up before even speaking to him. “…he thinks, it’s because he’s unlovable, and that no one, cares about him, like i said before. he thinks no one is going to be willing to even validate his – his trying to redeem himself, even though we’re all working to become better. to earn our forgiveness. and i…i don’t blame him, for thinking that, after so many years of being put down, by so many people.”

you are going all over the place. but i understand. you think your words, will be meaningless to him, and that his decision to remain alone is unchangeable. this is…a predicament. hinata thinks he feels a shred of sympathy somewhere in there, and he’s a little grateful for it, not to lie. “…yeah.” you have still not answered my question, though. what exactly are your feelings? you do not have to tell me, but hajime…you know you have to confront them. if you want to help him, you must.

he shuts his eyes. kamukura was right, that he knew. he’d purposely avoided saying what he felt out loud, even now alone with only the comfort of himself and the smarter half of himself. he’s afraid, for all the reasons he’s said and a million more, so many more that he can’t, he does not know how, to put into words, to explain to someone who doesn’t share the feelings he does, not truly. he can’t even begin to explain to himself. but he knows he can’t hide for any longer.

he cares about komaeda. he always has – even after the first week, he’s found it still, hard to ignore him, or to feel completely angry at him. because he’s always cared, and no action of komaeda could erase that, no matter how hard he tried to push hinata away. at first, maybe, he simply found a friend in him – some peace and quiet that was much appreciated, much needed at moments. his dream reminded him as much. but he also listened, to hinata, and was able to empathise a way others couldn’t have, exactly.

and he helped hinata get a lot of things off his chest, from time to time, whether it was worries about his designated position as leader of the group, or troubles that he’d received from others, or self-doubts he’d been battling for much longer…komaeda listened, and was there for him. and one of hinata’s regrets, till now, is that he wasn’t there for komaeda sooner. and after the first trial, he somehow became closer with komaeda, and there were moments where, even if seldom few, where komaeda would open up to hinata, and hinata felt like he trusted him.

along the way, he supposes, that care for his friend…grew. deeper, and deeper, and deeper, until even the final betrayal of his on the island, still could not change how hurt, how upset he was by his death, not even nanami’s execution – it just added on to the pain. because, because he didn’t consider him a friend, not anymore. the term wasn’t strong enough, didn’t convey…exactly how it felt. and his reaction to komaeda finally waking up, and even the months before the moment, spent simply sitting by komaeda’s side, clutching his hand waiting…he knew what he thought of him.

“i’m afraid,” hinata opens his eyes. “to tell him that i love him.”

–

  his food tastes disgusting, but komaeda doesn’t care much. he shoves the breakfast tray to the opposite end of the table, making use of the fact that he has an entire table to himself – whether this upset him or not. he tells himself, of course, that it does not – because he is used to sitting alone, and it is all he can seem to remember when it comes to scenarios like these. at school, on the island, and even now, a young adult, he is alone at lunch, and it is an embarrassing thing to behold.

embarrassing, if not a little sad. he has himself only to blame, of course, for reasons he cannot exactly begin to explain to another human being, let alone sort out himself, without spending too much energy figuring himself out. an obvious reason would be that he was, of course, not exactly quite popular with people in general because of his…eccentric personality, to put it lightly, which even people such as tanaka and mioda could not quite click with.

the most obvious reason, however, would be that he is responsible for the permanent death of a beloved friend that even he misses now. a little amusing how drastically both reasons varied, not that anyone but himself would focus on such things.

komaeda lets his eyes wander around the canteen, eventually to the table which he dubs the ‘twighlight-syndrome batch’, where an explosion of colours in the form of multiple heads of hair chat (and in mioda’s case, yell) over an assortment of things, none of which komaeda can gather info about, asides from the almost-constant outbursts from the musician. unintentionally, he locks eyes with the now tallest member of the bunch, and almost immediately he looks down, the noise from the table simultaneously dulling for a moment.

strange, how even someone with a personality as dislikeable as the traditional dancer’s could be surrounded by so many others. “but even then, she has her merits, and she is changing…you are a whole other case. you have always been like this.” although his voice is quiet, komaeda still attracts the attention of a passing future-foundation member, who simply stares at him a little strangely before continuing to head wherever they were initially headed to.

and komaeda can’t blame him, really. with a reputation like his own, talking to one’s self was more or less a major “DON’T” in big, bold, pink letters. perhaps if he had a second person within his head, he wouldn’t get stared at in such a way, though then again he isn’t quite sure how people are reacting to hinata’s –

he stops in his line of thought, eyes moving upward towards the ceiling. it has been a while, a long while indeed, that he has spoken to him, or even come near him, none of which has been anyone but komaeda’s own doing. komaeda had decided that he would impose this distance between the both of them – both for hinata’s well being, and a little selfishly, for komaeda’s own.

it was not mainly out of fear of any luck-cycle mishap as some might have speculated – while komaeda was at unease about the whole situation, it wasn’t enough to drive him away from…from dear hinata-kun. the real reason, in fact, is because he is afraid. he is afraid of hurting hinata by his words or actions alone, afraid of upsetting or disappointing him, which in komaeda’s eyes would not be very hard to do, given how much of a let-down komaeda already is.

komaeda is afraid there will come a moment where one thing, maybe even just three words alone could ruin hinata’s whole view of him, or could drive him away forever. after all, he’d tried before, and he was much too cowardly to even finish what he wanted to say. komaeda thinks it’s better if he drives him away from the start, before he has the chance to permanently hurt him.

he’s afraid, too, that even if there isn’t a sudden moment of realization within hinata that would make him leave komaeda, that would even make hinata hate him, that no matter what, komaeda will end up being alone again. that he will eventually drift away, even after all they’ve been through together, and that it was simply fated for komaeda to be all alone. his eyes sting a bit, and he looks back down at his tray, deciding he needed something to busy his hands with, reaching for the now-cold plate of omurice.yes, that outcome, among many others he’s envisioned, would be far more painful than distancing himself from the start.

a small part of him chastises himself, because he should know hinata better than that, that he would never do such a thing. because hinata-kun cared, hinata-kun cared when no one else had for a long time, and he would not stop caring out of the blue. the rest of komaeda, though, simply decides that komaeda has much too hope, and really, this hope of his that he’s clung to his entire life has gotten him nowhere, given him nothing but an even harsher slap from reality each time he clung to it.

he shoves a spoonful of the omurice into his mouth to stop himself from frowning too noticeably, chewing and then swallowing down the food along with the choked up feeling one often felt before crying. he will not cry. there is nothing to cry over, anyhow, and if the people around him haven’t cried since the first few weeks of rehabilitation, then why should he? and over what, crushed dreams?

komaeda’s learned long ago that dreams and hopes are simply that – dreams, and false hopes, and that his hope was something he clung to merely to stop himself from giving into his misery. amazing, how dark his day has gotten already, when it wasn’t even noon yet. komaeda looks around the room again, not too surprised to see some people already beginning to get up from their tables.

some faces are a bit familiar to him, members of the foundation he hasn’t exactly acquainted himself with yet, nor has he completely ignored their existence of, either. others are more familiar to him, like the short stature and pointed hair of naegi makoto, who he’s a little surprised to see in this section, though given his status and how dedicated he is…it does make sense.

and then, there are the faces whom he remembers the most – faces of people he used to be classmates with, he used to solve trials with. faces of people whom komaeda has betrayed, like the imposter, the princess, the yakuza – to name a few. they mostly ignore komaeda, or they do not see him, but komaeda is surprised to be on the receiving end of some waves from a few of the girls – double-checking there wasn’t someone behind him that they’d be pleased to see.

komaeda has distanced himself from them, too. he’s aware of how they feel about him, how they should feel about him after everything, and he’s decided that even though he wasn’t very close with any of them, or close at all, he would much rather not hurt any of them, either, not betray or make them upset once more, not that he felt that any of them cared – even if logic might have said otherwise, komaeda did not want to believe in lies created by his heart that he had friends, people who cared about him, even after everything.

it felt too different than usual. it felt too off, too…good, for the likes of someone such as him. so even if he would apologise for what he’s done, even if he would make up for the pain and trouble and unease he’s caused, komaeda won’t get too close, or close at all. he’ll leave space the same way he does with hinata. for their own good. for his own good.

komaeda huffs, shoving another spoonful in his mouth, which he thinks is about the most he’s eaten in a while. somehow, somehow, his thoughts would always come to hinata, and while he didn’t mind it at first, it was only just manageable now. he understands, of course, why his mind always comes back to one thing, one person – it’s hard to eliminate the thing you care about most, no matter how strong-willed you are.

and komaeda considered himself extremely strong-willed. try as he might, no amount of space he put between himself and hinata could stop him from thinking about the latter – that was one of the awful things about affection. you couldn’t control it – it controlled you.

and hinata had earned so, so much of komaeda’s affection. he had made komaeda feel safe, in those special moments with him, away from everyone else, away from the inevitable arrival of another murder, another trial, another session where he plays the villain. he had made him feel happy, and continued to do so each time he approached komaeda, even after the first week.

hinata was still willing to become close to him after the reveal of true colours, after his first layer had fallen away, when no one else but nanami would – but, nanami was…a whole other story, and very different than hinata. because nanami didn’t, couldn’t have ever made komaeda feel the way that he felt when around hinata.

he’d known early on, because if there is one thing komaeda isn’t, it’s oblivious, much to others’ chagrin and his own, even. komaeda might have preferred it if he wasn’t incredibly aware of how he feels about hinata, just how much he cares for him.

it would have been easier to stop thinking about him, most likely, and even more easy to distance himself from him without any regret. but no, komaeda is entirely aware of how he feels about the stubborn man, and has been from very early on, before he could even understand why he felt that way around hinata.

he loves him – he loves him and he adores and admires him till the point where komaeda’s chest feels like it’ll burst from the amount of affection he carries for hinata. and worst of all, his heart feels like it’ll shatter from the weight, the burden of a fact which is that hinata will likely never feel the same about komaeda, komaeda’s convinced himself of it.

komaeda will carry these feelings until they wither and die, or until he dies, and out of all the things in his life, all the miseries he’s faced, komaeda knows that this burden will be the heaviest, the most painful to bear. and hinata will never know, because it’s for the best, isn’t it?

he feels the tears before they come, and sets the spoon aside, raising both palms to press into his eyes now. it isn’t so much as to stop them from flowing, but rather hide the fact that they’re there – to anyone watching, with the addition of the slight trembling of his shoulders, komaeda would only look like he was battling a painful migraine.

not that anyone would necessarily care or look his way, he reminds himself. of course not. it’s amusing, though, how quick the morning is to become sour, and by his own thinking alone, nonetheless. if there was an award for achieving the worst day possible before morning ended, then he’s most certainly won it (a hundredth time, anyway, given his life.) still, he –

“komaeda?”

he stills, and he does not need to turn around to confirm the owner of the voice, nor does he need to stand up from his place to reach him, because soon enough hinata has his arms wrapped around komaeda, making him feel small, pathetic even, but undeniably safe.

“let’s…” komaeda begins, removing his hands to give a half-hearted smile. “we have a lot of things to discuss, i feel. let’s sort them out, shall we?”

–

  komaeda cannot admit that he’s missed the smell of the ocean too much, though the view before him is certainly something he can appreciate; with the faint sunlight, the sun only peeking out from behind the clouds, and the gentle rise and fall of the waves, his mind is definitely more relaxed, now out of the stuffy canteen. he is still on edge, though, and that is namely to do with hinata sitting right beside him. “…so,” the other man begins. “we…haven’t talked in a while, huh?” komaeda represses the urge to snort. even with kamukura’s help hinata wasn’t the best with words, after all.

“no, we have not,” he answers, voice soft. “you did catch onto the fact that i’ve been avoiding you, have you not?” hinata says nothing, though the look in his eyes tells komaeda enough – that he’s been aware of said fact, and likely more. “i hope you’re not upset, hinata-kun, because there are far more important things and people you should–“ hinata doesn’t let him finish, already starting up. “of course i’m upset, komaeda! why on earth would you think i wouldn’t be?” komaeda is silent. he regains his words after a moment. “…because, perhaps, you never sought me out?”

it is hinata, now, who looks shamed, but not speechless. “i – i know i didn’t. and i really, really should have – there’s no excusing that. i was…a coward. i’m still, a coward.” komaeda nods. “…i see. i don’t think i can agree.” hinata is confused – he expected komaeda to agree with him on this, at least, but of course he’s proven wrong again.“why not? i avoided you because i was scared that i’d somehow make things worse – which was stupid, because i should have asked you–“ komaeda shakes his head. “i won’t lie, hinata-kun, you not seeking me out was cowardly, yes, but you aren’t a coward overall. you’re very brave, confident. i truly admire that about you, being able to lead everyone.”

there’s another spark of fondness in hinata’s chest at komaeda’s words. “thank you, but…” he trails off, words dying on his tongue. “we’re here…now, though, and i’m not going to be cowardly anymore.” he already knows, has an idea of the answer to his next question, but hinata isn’t going to leave this – leave him alone without a definite answer. “why were you avoiding me from the start…? i didn’t hurt you, or anything, did i…?” komaeda shakes his head profusely, white curls going back and forth. “that isn’t it at all, hinata-kun. really, i…” he falters, looking down. “it’s okay, komaeda.” hinata reaches out, and carefully takes his left hand in between both of his. “i’m listening. i’m still here.”

komaeda’s cheeks tint, and he nods, barely noticeable. “hinata-kun, i really…from the bottom of my heart, i care about you. and i cause nothing but misery wherever i go, and the last thing i wished for was…to hurt you.” hinata is silent, but his hands are still holding komaeda’s, and komaeda takes that as a sign to continue. “the last thing i wanted to do, was to hurt you, or disappoint you, let you down in any way or form, and then have you desert me. and forgive me, for not having faith in you, hinata-kun, but..” his voice grows small. “…it was hard for me to believe that anyone, but especially someone as wonderful as you, could care about me.” he cautiously looks back at him, and he’s surprised by the deep frown on hinata’s face. "hinata–”

“sorry, but you’re completely wrong, komaeda.” komaeda blinks, surprised, and hinata carries on, subtly moving a little closer to komaeda. “i mean–“ he turns a little red, embarrassment evident in his tone. “i understand why you’d think that – i definitely do, considering…considering everything you’ve had to put up with. but i promise you – you’re very much wrong. i do care about you, a shit ton more than i’d ever have expected to. and i can’t imagine ever wanting to leave you, much less anything you could even say to me that’d make me be disappointed in you. you mean so much to me.” komaeda is surprised by the sincerity in his voice. so surprised that he almost has trouble believing him.

“hinata-kun…” komaeda’s eyes water a little bit, but hinata is relieved, and endeared, to see a smile on his face, cheeks rosy. “i…i’ve been foolish then, haven’t i?” he chuckles, and hinata can’t help laughing along with him a little. “i mean…you weren’t the only one, really,” he mumbles. he runs his thumb over komaeda’s hand. “i…still don’t entirely understand, though, hinata-kun. why exactly…did you think you would ‘make things worse’?” there is a moment of silence, and then another, and then komaeda starts to worry, before hinata speaks up. “i was afraid…that whatever i would have said would have driven you farther away. i was wrong, though, from the looks of it, and really, i’m wishing i spoke up sooner.” komaeda smiles, moving his other hand to squeeze hinata’s. “there’s something else, too,” hinata speaks up.

“yes, hinata-kun…?” komaeda watches curiously as hinata’s cheeks grow more red. “i – i’m kind of embarrassed at how long it took me to figure things out, to realize what you were trying to say or what you meant those couple of times on the island, but…” hinata moves his hand from komaeda’s hold, and raises it to his cheek instead, a little amused by how quick komaeda’s cheeks are to turn red. “when i said i cared about you…i didn’t mean it just as a friend – and, i think after hearing you, that isn’t what you meant, either.” komaeda’s breath gets caught in his throat. his heart is pounding against his chest. “hinata-kun, what do you…?”

“komaeda, i love you. and i have loved you for a long while…and i really, really want to stay by your side, if you’ll let me.”

a hush falls upon the both of them, and there isn’t anything said or heard for a few moments’ time. komaeda stares at hinata, eyes wide and face red. and hinata stares back, bashful, but evidently honest. and slowly, komaeda lifts his hand to hinata’s shoulder, and his other hand intertwines with hinata’s own, and he does not say anything more, leaning forward the same time that hinata does, a kiss saying a million more things than either could explain. and yet, komaeda finds himself pulling back, to smile at hinata as if he is the most precious thing in the world – which, to komaeda, he is.

“i love you too, hinata-kun.”

[murphystartedthefire]

Hey, so i really REALLY want to like Emori and i really want to like the Memori relationship but i cant find that many reasons to ship them, can you give me some reasons that prove Emori is a good character and a good person because i know she IS, but my brain keeps blanking.

Oh anon this is a BIG QUESTION and I’m gonna yell my best HEY WHY DO YOU LIKE EMORI (AND MEMORI) SO MUCH answer at you.

Emori is from the very beginning a mirror to Murphy, a kindred spirit. She’s been through so much of what he has, despite coming from a completely different world. They’ve both been abandoned, abused, unloved, told by others that there is something wrong with them and in dark moments they believe it themselves.

And in turn they both react to the world in remarkably similar ways. They both have a deeply cynical streak and can do amoral things to keep themselves safe. Murphy survives a million calamities against all odds almost out of spite. Emori is quick to look out for herself first because if she doesn’t, no one else will.

Is she a GOOD PERSON? Is Murphy a good person? I’d say she very much is now and not so much when we met her. When we met her she had no capacity for choosing to be good. Her life was a constant struggle and she continued to live and that itself was a radical act. She never even had the *glimpse* of a loving family that Murphy did before his childhood fell apart. She couldn’t afford even to hope there was another way of getting by besides screw-people-before-they-screw-you.

She was loyal to a person she called her brother. (We know SO LITTLE and not enough about Otan?!? We know they were both abused by Baylis and got out. I definitely subscribe to Luisa’s headcanon that he wasn’t her blood relative and that foreshadows her attachment to spacekru so well too.) She wanted to save him, even after he was chipped and put a knife to her throat, but she lost him.

And then she became loyal and in love with Murphy, and him with her, in a way that was so new to both of them it turned them into children, kissing on the cheek and playing in the ocean. For the first time she felt not only accepted but desired and cherished by someone. And Murphy found a way to be another person with her – still him but softer and without all the baggage. He never hid who he was or what he’d done from her, but she *understood* it.

They brought out the best in each other, not because they always inspired each other to do good (they didn’t! that’s part of the Bonnie & Clyde charm!!) but because they made each other safer and happier and more selfless – even for one other person – and that was *necessary* to the road they both had to take.

Emori chose John over going it alone to find her brother. She was ready to attack armed Polis soldiers to protect him until he signaled her not to. She *took the chip to save him* – whatever actions she did toward him *while brainwashed by ALIE* it was BECAUSE she was trying to find him. She begged him not to fight for her when they were tied to the ladder in Becca’s lab. Facing a death that terrified her, all she could go was try to convince him to be smart and stay alive.

(And in the midst of all this, she was developing trust and empathy for other people too! She forgave Clarke – much quicker than Murphy did, as it turns out – when she saw how willing she was to sacrifice for her & others. The show made a point of showing us it was *Emori* distressed about leaving her behind on Earth. Moments later, she was the first to volunteer to give up her own oxygen to save Raven. SO MUCH GROWTH in such a COMPACT bunch of scenes.)

And then came the season 5 breakup, a polarizing arc that made some fans like her more and others turn on her (even though the show *directly told us* that the problem was him pushing her away, at a time that was otherwise a huge period of positive change for her). Even accepting that Emori didn’t handle her Very First Breakup perfectly and had some moments of unfairly lashing out at him, she still risks her life to protect him over and over. Staying behind and getting the shock collar off him. Going into enemy territory with him as a prisoner. Finally straight-up refusing to leave him with his gunshot wounds even if it means they’ll both die. Anyone who calls her selfish, uncaring, or doubts she loves John Murphy as much as he loves her is simply watching another show by now.

And speaking of now!! It hasn’t been the best year for Emori getting the storyline & screentime she deserves, but we do have 6x08, possibly the best Memori episode ever and the best stealth Emori-centric ep since “Gimme Shelter”, for almost the COMPLETELY opposite reasons. Where that episode revealed a darker side to her, “The Old Man and the Anomaly” was an amazing moment of moral strength. We saw her caught between her love for Murphy and her newfound family. In the end she chose to do the right thing while STILL affirming that she and Murphy love each other, and they understand immediately why the other did what they did.

…And then, because season six kinda sucked at telling a coherent story, we kinda went through all of that again with less agency for Emori the second time around (but a GREAT makeover so… I’ll allow it). But her choice was the same, and she did not hesitate for a moment to be a big giant hero and put her badass ~lying skills to work to save her friends, united with her fellow God/fake brother/fiance. :D

Emori is a good CHARACTER because, for one damn thing, there is no one like her with a physical mutation on TV. It’s both a significant part of her backstory and also, like, the 50th most notable thing about her. And there are few *especially female* characters who are allowed to walk the line of being as damaged and lovable as she is – to go from remorselessly throwing not!Baylis under the bus to save her own skin, to shakily pleading with Murphy not to fight for her, to survive after she’s gone.

She’s responsible for so much of Murphy’s (excellent) character arc and has managed to have her OWN dramatic transformation, probably the biggest of any secondary character on the show. From a nomadic, ruthless Grounder who trusted no one to a tech whiz and reliable friend who can land a spaceship and swoosh around in a flowy dress giving fake orders to people. (All held together by a scene-stealing Luisa d’Oliveira, terribly underappreciated and better to watch every season.)

WHAT’S NOT TO LOVE ABOUT EMORI.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Damaged And Discarded (Femslash February)

Prompt: Princess Fandom: Avatar Pair: AzulaxTyLee Song Rec: Xena’s Pretty When You Cry

Summary: After months of being treated poorly in the institution, Azula begins to see herself as more of an object than a human. TyLee attempts to remedy this.

Mostly, Azula doesn’t feel much like a princess anymore. On most days they leave her bound tightly, confining her to a small room. Most days, they don’t even bother to proper her up against the wall, instead she is carelessly laid on the floor like an outgrown toy. Really, that’s what she is; once cherished, once taken everywhere. But as soon as it had cracked, as soon as a piece or two bent, its use was over and it was tossed under the bed or into a closet. Holed up in the dark and forgotten about.

Unloved and uncared for.

She wants to curl herself up but the straitjacket doesn’t allow for it. Instead she is forced to deal with her discomfort, one of these days she’d get used to it and grow numb to it. She closes her eyes and prays that she will not dream.

Nightmares always disturb her to the core and terrorize her sleep.

Dreams always leave her with a sense of melancholy longing.

She doesn’t know which is worse.

Being awake is worse than either though. Eventually she can leave her dreams behind. She can’t leave her waking life. Her waking life where she is roughly handled. Where she is hoisted up and fed food that barely resemble such. Where they rather aggressively forced her to eat when she refused the sickly looking meal they presented her with. Where they shove pills into her mouth or prick her with needles when she gets to moody with them. She is not allowed to have emotions. They render her less expressive than Ozai ever had. They talk about her, but they never say her name. The whisper about how she is a hassle, about how she isn’t worth the fuss. How they wish that the Fire Lord would have just imprisoned her alongside her father.

She no longer has any dignity. No longer has any value.

She begins to think of herself as an object.

They toss her around like one.

Even when Zuko comes to pick her up, the mentality never leaves her. He mutters some sort of apology and something, something about how he didn’t realize they were being so negligent.

But it is so normal for her. So normal that she no longer questions if their treatment of her had been unjustified.

So normal that she doesn’t think that it was.

She doesn’t speak to him.

She doesn’t speak to anyone.

Objects don’t talk.

Objects get handled and discarded. She doesn’t understand why he has pulled her out from under the bed. She is broken and her use is expired. He tries to talk to her but she only listens. He asks her for her opinions, she doesn’t give them. She doesn’t have a right to them. Every morning he asks her how she is feeling, what she is feeling. She doesn’t answer, objects don’t have feelings. Even if they do, they aren’t of any importance.

For the most part Azula lays in bed, half expecting to be rudely roused from sleep and forced to the dinner table. But no one disturbs her, not in such a manner. Zuko sets food on her dresser she doesn’t touch it the first few times. She doesn’t touch it until her belly aches too much for her to ignore it. Only then, does she take a bite. She doesn’t even like steak, but she has no place to protest so she forces herself to eat.

The only time she is ever forced out of bed is when they make her bathe. They offer to let her bathe herself, but when she refuses, they do it for her. They undress her and lift her into the water. She is discomforted by the eyes on her body. But she is an object so they can do as they please. There is a little relief in that they all look terribly uncomfortable and do their best to keep their hands away from certain places.

It is the most respect she has been shown in a long while. Faintly, for a moment she thinks of herself as a human being again. But then she recalls what has been said of her in the institution and the illusion is shattered. With care, they lift her out of the tub and dress her once more, in clean clothes. She wonders who had chosen the outfit.

Her hair is brushed and she is tucked back in. Routine doesn’t change for a long time. She sleeps, she eats when she feels up to it, and she bathes when they make her. She doesn’t protest. She doesn’t do anything at all. Occasionally she lets a small flame burn in her hand, simply staring at it, trying to remember days when she mattered. Days when she was human.

She doesn’t know how much time has gone by, but it is bath time again and nervousness overtakes her. She doesn’t want to be stripped, yet she has no place to vocalize her concerns. They don’t matter. But this morning is different from most. Her door opens and a familiar voice speaks, “Zuko said it’s bath time. He says that he thinks you’ll be more comfortable with someone you know giving it to you.”

Azula takes a sharp breath and looks away from the figure in the door. An arm slides under hers and she is forced to her feet. “I can’t carry you.” The voice huffs. “Can you please walk?”

It is a question but it may as well have been a demand. Feeling hollow, Azula pads down the hallway and into the bathroom. She stands and waits for her robes to be removed. It takes TyLee a good while to realize that Azula isn’t going to do so herself. Hesitantly, TyLee does so, mumbling, “he mentioned that you usually have other people do this for you…”

Soon she is in the bathtub again with gentle fingers working shampoo into her hair. Azula, rigid and unmoving, stares at her hands.

“You still like saffron shampoo the best, right? Or do you want me to use lavender instead?”

Azula continues to stare at her hands, flexing her fingers once or twice.

“I want you to be happy with this bath. I know that you have a preference.”

Azula swallows, she wants to cry. She clenches her fingers. TyLee is too persistent.  Finally and quietly she answers, “I still like saffron.”

TyLee smiles. “I thought so.” She pauses. “Is the water hot enough for you?”

Goosebumps crawl over Azula skin. She shakes her head and TyLee calls for a few firebenders to heat the water. They leave once the water starts to steam. “Better?” She asks and Azula nods.

TyLee finishes lathering Azula’s locks and rinses the suds away. Azula’s stomach churns when TyLee picks up a bar of soap. “It’s also saffron. Do you want to do it yourself? Zuko says that you usually don’t…”

Azula stares at the bar of soap for a moment before taking in her hand. Because she does want to do it herself, she always wants to do it herself, but no one has ever insisted that she make that decision until now. She runs the soap over her body until she feels sufficiently clean and hands the soap back to TyLee. The woman doesn’t protest and puts the bar away.

Azula admits to herself that it is nice to have someone put things away for her again. It is nice to be treated like a human again. “Do you want me to comb your hair now or should I wait until it dries?” Usually the servants take the brush to her hair right away. She doesn’t like this because her hair usually snags when it is wet.

“Wait until it dries.”

TyLee sets the brush down and fetches a towel. This time she doesn’t wait for TyLee to ask, she stands, takes the towel, and pats herself dry. It has taken too long but she begins to realize that she has been the only one viewing herself as a possession. She looks through the few outfits TyLee has laid out and picks one. It becomes apparent that Zuko and the palace staff had tried to give her choices, they just hadn’t the correct method. And perhaps they feared being too persistent. Perhaps they had, despite their own discomforts, decided to themselves that Azula would have said something if they had been making her uncomfortable.

She wishes that they hadn’t drawn that conclusion.

Azula tightens the sash holding her robes together. What is done is done. She supposes that she should just be glad for TyLee’s reappearance in her life. And glader still for the girl’s apparent forgiveness. She wonders about the state of herself, it must have been pretty poor for TyLee to simply let things go.

“Now what?” TyLee asks.

The question takes Azula aback. She realizes, with a nervous jitter, that she has been given control. The sort that she hasn’t seen in ages. And for the first time, she isn’t entirely sure what to do with it. She almost says that she wants to go back to her room and return to sleep, it is an impulse.

One that she ignores.

Still, she doesn’t know what she wants.

It has been so long since others...since she has allowed herself to want anything.

Azula closes the space between she and TyLee and folds her arms around the woman. Because that is what she wants to do. She wants to hold someone...she wants to hold TyLee specifically. Likely because she can convey the weight of her gratitude vocally.

It is as though TyLee has washed the damage away, a good portion of it, anyhow. She kisses TyLee’s neck, because that is also what she wants to do. TyLee rubs her back and mumbles something akin to, “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

And Azula is starting to feel like a human again.

She is starting to feel like a princess again.

[softkim2]

It Seems my Lonely Days are Through

↳ story header made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

» Pairing(s): Number Five & Teen!Vanya Hargreeves 

» Genre(s): Angst, Romance, & Humor

» Warning(s) / Ratings: Swearing / PG-13

» Words: 3.3K

» Summary: ❝Sadly…Just like any other promise…It was made to be broken…❞ Just when Vanya felt that she could rely on Five forever, she knew deep down that he always wanted to time-travel. She just didn't know that he'd say something to their father so soon...

Another day of being left behind. Another point added to her mental scoreboard. Then, this oh so familiar emotion entered her mind. This feeling of being unwanted…unloved…unneeded… No one needed her around. No one wanted her around. And eventually, that feeling became her true companion. Her insecurities heightened. A sad smile became a permanent one. No longer did she wanted to smile because she’s happy but smile to get unwanted questions from a certain someone. Out of all of her siblings, Vanya only cared about having certain judgmental stares from her brother, Five. Ever since he’d grown to trust her with his innermost worries and problems, Vanya didn’t want to disappoint him nor worry him with her own personal issues.

So…just like any other – normal – adolescent…she buried them deep within her psyche and called it a day. As long as Five had someone to vent his problems too, then Vanya was content with bottling up her emotions. Maybe her father giving those pills was a blessing in disguise. It helped suppressed her emotions – her feelings – a lot easier. Though, not enough for her to become this emotionless robot. That’s when Five would raise a few questions and more than likely lash out on either their father, their siblings, or a combination of both. And she didn’t want that. There’s already a tiny riff between Five and her and the rest of the family. She didn’t want it to worsen.

Just like with any family…

They needed each other…

They may not need each other right this moment but eventually they would.

It’s only a matter of seconds…

Taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling, Vanya mustered all of her remaining mental strength to compose herself. She took a glance at the clock, knowing that just like the previous days, her siblings would be returning from their afternoon training session shortly. She didn’t want her siblings, specifically Five, to see her cheeks stained with tears. Her eyes almost bloodshot from the number of tears that trickled down the sides of her precious face.

No. She needed to be strong. Unbothered by the constant ridicule and reminder that she’s simply ordinary. There’s nothing special about her.

With a few more breaths. Vanya managed to compose herself. A somber expression appeared on her face as she picked up her violin, that rested against the couch she had been sitting on. She positioned the violin underneath her chin and against her shoulder. Then, she positioned both the bow and her fingers. Her eyes focused on the sheet music before her. With one final breath, releasing any emotions that threatened to spill out, Vanya began playing. The first few notes were light, almost energetic, Then, it became eerie. Practically haunting as the sounds of rushing footsteps echoed throughout the foyer.

Yup. Like clockwork.

“New song?” The violinist heard Klaus ask. A rare interaction whenever he needed a distraction from his ghoulish friends.

The corners of her lips quirked up as Vanya nodded, continuing to play the beautiful musical piece. Shortly, she became lost to the music. This feeling of tranquility consumed her as she executed each section perfectly. Even her brother, Diego, complimented her playing, and that’s extremely rare. He almost never said anything nice to her. Unless Five managed to persuade Diego to apologize for being an asshole.

She’d always appreciate it when Five came to her protection. With him around, she’s able to lower her shields but even then, it didn’t last long. She’d soon remember what her father, Reginald, had discussed with her weeks prior.

“I told you, Number Seven, I do not want you interfering with your siblings training. They already have enough on their minds and do not need their ordinary sister getting in the way…”

God. She honestly lost count how many times she’d been called ordinary by her dear old dad. She could fill up a jar with how much she’d been called that. That’s how bad it was. That’s how much it’s instilled in her precious mind.

She’s just plain…old…

“I know that look. What did our asshole of a father say to you now?” An oh so familiar voice interrupted her train of thought. Her body flinched as she didn’t expect someone to linger around. And because of that, she accidentally played a few sour notes, causing both her and the other person to wince. Their poor ears.

Vanya then removed the violin from her shoulder and hugged it against her chest. She swiveled her body around and came face-to-face with Five. The one sibling she didn’t want to see right this second.

“It’s nothing, Five.” She said shortly before gently placing her violin back in its case and locking it. “I’ll see you at dinner.” She quickly added, brushing past him and heading to her sanctuary. Her safe haven. Her room.

His brows became knitted together. He drew his lower lip between his teeth as confusion glazed over his eyes. He couldn’t help but follow her retreating body, wondering if he had done something to cause such a strange reaction.

Had he unintentionally lashed out on her and forget to apologize? No, because he had been always careful to never take his frustrations on her. Luther and Diego? Yes. Vanya? Never.

Did he forget about an important secret meeting between? Nah. That couldn’t be it as he personally scheduled them with her. He constantly found himself needing her calm presence. Never vice-versa.

So, why did she run away from him? Why did his heart ache a little as she quickly dismissed his act of concern?

Then, thanks to his highly intelligent brain, Five soon realized that it had to do with the monster that they had to unfortunately call, “father”. He felt like an imbecile for not putting the puzzle pieces together sooner. Five wasn’t blind. He knew that there’s indeed a sudden change within Vanya. He just either didn’t have the time to talk to her about it or weren’t able to get some valuable alone time with her. He had been preoccupied with his spatial jump training or working on how to perfect the act of time-travel. Reginald recommended that he practice his spatial jumping, then Five could learn how to time-travel. Yet week after week, Five had yet to see a change in his training regimen. That only pissed him off even more. Now, the icing on the cake was when he noticed a bigger separation between him and Vanya. She’d either be by Reginald’s side or doing her own thing around the time he and the rest of their siblings are training or on a mission.

He rarely had the chance to hang around her and enjoy her presence. Shit. He started to forget how it felt to hug her. How her body fitted perfectly against his. How, right now, they were at a perfect height that complimented one another.

A faint scoff escaped his lips as an amused smirk slowly appeared on his lips. Five found his thoughts to be quite humorous.

“So…this is what a love sick teen feels like…” He thought, shaking his head as he stuffed his hands inside his pockets. Then, his gaze focused on the grandfather clock nearby. He noted the time and quickly calculated if he had enough time to have some much needed one-on-one time with his beloved Vanya.

Luckily…

He did…

Without a second to lose, he activated his spatial jumping, teleporting himself in the hallway that led to his and his siblings’ bedrooms. He remained still; his ears listened for any sounds that could indicate that someone would be leaving their room. Though, he doubted it as his siblings liked to lock themselves away to obtain a moment of peace. They practically spent every single day with each other. A few hours without being in the presence of another wouldn’t kill them.

Five waited a few more seconds before teleporting himself in front of Vanya’s room. Then, just as he raised his hand to politely knock on her door, he heard a sound that he vowed to never hear again…

Vanya’s cries…

To this day, the sassy teen remembered the first time he heard her heartbreaking sobs. It felt like someone got lucky enough to get a clean on him and repeated those punches. His chest tightened whenever he recalled that ”lovely” memory so vividly.

Not wanting to put him and Vanya through this horrendous torture, Five barged right in and slammed the door shut, uncaring if that were to alert his other siblings. If anything, he prayed that they heard, so they could see what their cruel acts and words had done to his Vanya.

No one would be allowed to cause her tears – and this time – he’d do a fucking better job at protecting her.

She’d never have to go through with this alone ever again.

Without saying a word, Five rushed to her side and kneeled in front of her. Just like when he grew enough balls to rest his hand on top of hers, he did it again. His hands grasped hers just as a few tears landed on his hot skin.

His jaw tightened. Her lips quivered. Love and concern flashed in his eyes while hers remained shut as tears continued to fall. She hated herself for reaching this breaking point but after seeing Five and hearing his voice, she just broke. All of her inner desperate pleas came rushing out the gates in the form of sobs.

She hated having to pretend that there’s nothing between them. No friendship. No adoration. Nothing. Not even a blossoming love that’d be considered taboo in the public eye. She had been forbidden to interact with him. Her one source of happiness.

She absolutely despised it, but if it meant that Five would be one step closer to his potential, then so be it. Strangers they would be.

“Vanya…” Her mind registered the softness in his voice. No. No. No. He shouldn’t be in here. If their father caught them – together – like this, then there’d be Hell to pay. No. Five had to leave.

Choking back a few of her sobs, Vanya controlled her breathing, though it’s proven difficult. Her breathing had become incredibly sporadic. Wild.

“You…have…to…go…” She managed to say even though it’s painful to do so.

Five looked taken back. Hurt burned in his eyes. Why was she shutting him out? Just like how she’s there for him, he’s there for her. He’d be her support whenever she felt like giving up.

She had constantly reminded him that she’s there for him. No matter what.

Now…

It’s his turn…

Gently wiping away the tears with his thumbs, Five allowed his hands to remain on her face. His eyes studied her facial expression, also noting her body language, allowing it to relax just a bit before speaking again. He didn’t want to trigger her again.

“Vanya…” He began; his voice almost a whisper, “Talk to me. What’s on your mind?” He asked, concern dripping on every single word.

Vanya remained silent, slightly leaning against his touch. His cold hand felt nice against her warm cheek. Her gaze studied Five’s face, noting how scared yet concern he was. This would be the second time she had seen that gaze. The first time was when he had found her crying her eyes out after she had yet again been ridiculed by her “loving” siblings for being plain. For being boring. She had tucked herself away inside the garden, that’s placed on the roof, and decided to drown out her tears – her sorrows – with her violin. Though, the moment she did, Five managed to find her with ease. His protective instincts were at an all time high after he overheard Diego and Luther saying horrendous things about her, while Allison, Klaus, and Ben laughed. They didn’t bother coming to her aid.

“Assholes…” He called them as he teleported to wherever Vanya held herself up. While, it took several spatial jumps, Five eventually popped up beside her, accidentally freaking her out and causing her to scream. His ear drums were damaged for a few days after that, but he didn’t pay attention because Vanya smiled as she laughed at his face. The snarl and glare on his face for some strange reason was incredibly hilarious in her eyes. Her laughter was highly addicting to the point that Five did everything and anything to recreate that. In that afternoon, he had the chance – the opportunity – to see a carefree Vanya. A side of her that he hadn’t seen in a long ass time.

Now, here he remained kneeling in front of her, offering words of comfort as he did almost everything to get his sweet Vanya to crack a smile. He’d even asked her to play her favorite musical piece for him, but Vanya simply replied with,

“Maybe later…my heart isn’t into it right now…”

Five, then in response, nodded as he said, “Understandable. Sometimes I wish I had that luxury.”

Vanya sniffled, “What do you mean?”

“Just that,” He began as he finally stood up, stretching his leg muscles. Then, he took a seat next to her and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, “You don’t realize this, Vanya, but you’re lucky. You have these amazing chances of taking breaks. Doing everything and anything that your heart desires.” A long sigh escaped his lips, “While with me and the rest of the crime fighting siblings, we don’t. It’s training from sunrise to sundown. And when we’re not training, then it’s those stupid, annoying missions,” He absentmindedly pulled Vanya closer. Her head now rested against the crook of his neck, “While, yes, with our abilities, taking down the bad guys is like an afternoon stroll at the local park. However, doing the same thing over and over gets redundant. Basically boring.” He finished his speech before placing an innocent kiss on her head. Innocent enough it could be seen as an act of sibling love in case their father so happened to stumble on them. With their luck, he’d be right around the corner. Seriously. It’s like Reginald had installed sensors on Vanya’s door and Five’s, alerting him of their so called “canoodling”.

Just thinking about the old man’s lecture frustrated Five to the point that his jaw clenched slightly. Everything that old man did only fueled Five’s innermost hatred towards him.

But that’s not important right now. Vanya’s important and would always be important to him.

Gently rubbing her arm, Five and Vanya remained silent, enjoying each other’s presence. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Vanya pulled back and created some space but not too much since Five still wanted to hold her. Like a little child clinging onto his or her favorite object. An object that gave him or her a sense of security.

That was Vanya. She was his sense of security. She kept his sanity intact while they both lived in that dysfunctional home.

“Thank you, Five.” She said softy with a sweet smile.

One corner of his mouth titled up. Five displayed his signature smirk. A smirk he had developed only for her but not to be confused with his condescending smile. That smile was reserved for his other siblings, minus Ben. Well. It depended if he partook in the ridiculing of Vanya, then, he’d that smirk and his wrath.

But most of the time, it’s usually Diego, Luther, and Allison that got it. How fitting since it’s the top three soldiers in their odd army.

Soon, his smirk grew into a smile. Then, a sweet and light kiss was placed on Vanya’s forehead.

“Anytime, Vanya. You just need to remember that you’re never alone, especially when you think you are. You’re not. You’ll always have me.” He said just as an alarm went off. Time for dinner. With one final reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, Five stood up and then offered his hand. Vanya smiled brightly and placed her hand into his. The moment he felt her hand, he quickly interlaced their fingers. He’d never grow tired with how well their hands molded together.

Recently, they had started to hold hands but only when they’re alone and certain that no one would catch them. One of the many risks that Allison had warned him about months prior. If only her concern lasted, especially towards Vanya.

But…oh well…

“So, I’m thinking of asking dear old dad about time-travel again.” He stated, stuffing his free hand into the pockets of his shorts.

Vanya’s forehead creased. Her jaw tightened slightly. She knew that Five wanted to time-travel, but he never got any practice because their dad would always reject his request. Today, she knew that it’d be his breaking point if their dad were to say no to Five’s request again. And knowing Five, she knew that he’d give in to his short-temper and do something irrational.

Then, she’d be left all alone…

“Are you sure that’s a wise decision? I mean what if he says no?” She asked, stopping right near the stairway but out of sight from the views of their siblings.

Five sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, “If he says no, then I don’t know.” He turned his head towards Vanya, “I’m tired of being told that I’m not ready, especially since I’ve been practicing those stupid spatial jumps like he told me to. I even managed to work out those pesky equations. Like, what more does he want from me?” He ranted; his voice gradually increased in pitch.

Vanya frowned, squeezing his hand in an act of comfort.

“I know but maybe he’s right. Sure, his explanation can be a tad nicer but perhaps he’s onto something. What if you do manage to successfully time-travel but end up somewhere and have no means to come back.” She stated, voicing her worries.

Five cupped her cheek, gently caressing it, “That’s not going to happen, Vanya. After all, I have you waiting for me back here so of course, I’m going to come back. I just want to see if I can do it. Even if it’s a tiny jump in time, I just want to see.” Then, he unlaced their fingers and pulled her into a warm and loving hug, “Then, with more practice, I’ll take you with me, and we’ll be far away from here. No more siblings who bully you. No more dad that constantly berates you for being ordinary. None of them. It’s just going to be the two of us.” He told her, soothing away her worries. Though, she had a point. What if he were to get stuck in a time with no means of getting back? God. Just the mere thought of Vanya growing up without him scared him. Instilled a fear within his mind. Yet he had to push them away. He needed to do this. To try. Then, his future could officially begin.

With one final squeeze, Five released his hold on special violinist. He flashed her a reassuring smile as if he’d told her to not worry about him nor say a word during dinner.

Just as he turned towards the stairs, he felt a tug on his sleeve. He peered down and saw Vanya’s hand stopping him.

He raised a brow, “What’s wrong?”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me that if you were to get stuck somewhere with no means of getting back, that you’d find a way to come back to me.”

Five’s breath hitched. She didn’t need to tell him that. He already knew. He’d do anything and everything to get back to her. His sole reason of even endearing the constant training and annoying siblings that he cared for here and there.

“Promise me, Five.”

“I promise you, Vanya Hargreeves, that I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you.”

Sadly…

Just like any other promise…

It was made to be broken…

“Okay. I’ll be holding you to that, sir.”

“You wound me, dear…”

A/N: Wow! This one is a tad longer than my previous one shot! I just had so much fun writing this one, especially since it kind of goes along with the dinner scene during the flashback scene of episode 2 of the series. I just like how Young Vanya shook her head and then look upset/shock to see Five run out. And then the whole Five screaming out Vanya's name first? Yeah. I just had to write a little something that could add to the fan theories/explanations as to why Five screamed out her name first. Anywho, now that this is done. I'm thinking of doing like a mini-series! Maybe even ask you guys to comment something you'd want to see Five x Vanya do behind closed doors. A funny idea I have right now is Five, giving in to his big ego, proving that he's the better protector than Luther, and the two have this weird competition while Reginald is away. So that should be fun! disclaimer: Now, I'm fully aware of the discourse between whether the Hargreeves are considered to be engaging in incestuous relationships or not (I especially acknowledge the arguments coming from people who are indeed from adopted families). I also know that the fandom will always be divided because of it so please do not send any hate comments on this story. If it is not your cup of tea, then do not read it. Simple as that. Anyway, I hope you guys like this!

Don’t forget to leave a kudos/comment on your thoughts! I love hearing them! :)

- Kim

[maliaroux]

HELLO, ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! first of all I just wanna say I am so fucking stoked for Starlit, and to get to write with you all! Anywho back to the task at hand, under the cut is a little bit about my hot garbage child Malia Roux, she’s an old muse but a goodie and I can’t wait to develop her more with you all! If you want to plot just like this or hmu via direct message and I will eagerly respond, i’ll be sure to include any trigger warnings below! Oh also, I am Mon, love me.

TW: domestic abuse, statutory rape, abandonment, prostitution, drug abuse, alcoholism, car accident, implied murder, death. 

AESTHETICS: 

lipstick-stained menthol cigarettes, empty spray cans, fake smiles, and humorless laughs, glassy dull eyes, dirty knees and whispered secrets, acrylic paint and empty canvases, unwavering loyalty and bruised knuckles, paint-speckled backpack full of clothes, tight dresses and high heels, hushed compliments and chipped nail polish, night terrors, and paranoia.

( her actual aesthetic board on pintrest here !!! )

BACKGROUND:

malia’s always been a lost soul. she grew up in phoenix, arizona, living in a tiny little suburban community, raised in one of the copycat cookie cutter homes just the same as the rest of the kids she went to high school with. when she was about five-years-old her dad walked out on her mom ( an aggressive & unloving woman who preferred her wine bottles to sippy cups ), leaving malia alone with her and her older sister ( who was eight years older than her ).

after her father left her mother got worse, now full of resentment and alcohol, she took everything out on malia. malia was too young to understand why, it wasn’t until years later she figured out the truth, that the reason her father had walked out on her mother was that he had found out that Malia, his pride, and joy, wasn’t even his daughter, but that’s neither here nor there.

as her mother’s rage grew, the more malia got in trouble, the more malia was ignored. by age ten the girl felt like a ghost in her own home, living in the shadow of her perfect, beautiful, older sister alice. no matter what malia did, what sport she joined, what trophy she won, what prize she brought back home to her mother, she still treated her like an invader, like a pest she had to put up with until the girl was finally 18 and she could kick her out.

eventually, malia stopped trying, stopped caring, shut off every emotion, every feeling she ever had towards her mother and turned it all into an apathetic gaze. she hated her mother, she hated her sister, and rather than try to be perfect, rather than rebel, she put herself into the role her mother wanted. she was a guest.

by the time malia was fourteen she was hardly home, spending most of her time at friends’ places, out partying, hanging out with boys way too old for her, doing things with them that were meant for people way too old for her. she didn’t care anymore. she played her role as the ghost in her own home, but she was tired of feeling sad... of feeling numb, and at least they helped her feel.

she figured she’d go through the rest of her life filling the void until she could finally leave… that is until her mom remarried. her step-father was an interesting man, loud and charismatic. boastful, charming, demanding. he took malia and her mother in. he was a man who put her mother in her place for being cruel, for being uncaring… and that was something malia liked… something malia exploited.

it truly didn’t take long for malia to tempt her step-father into sleeping with her, he wasn’t a good man after all… and rather than hide their dirty secret, malia rubbed it in her mother’s face. let her call her a whore. let her call her disgusting. she didn’t care because at least it got her mother noticing her finally.

malia didn’t really care for her step-father, she never really cared about anyone romantically, they were a means to an end, just like he was. but he didn’t like that… he didn’t like malia being with other boys, other girls, and after a while things began to get violent. he was controlling, and abusive, and malia wasn’t the type of girl to put up with it, even with all the traumatic reminders she had to. and her mother? didn’t care to help… even told her she deserved it.

so rather than stay in her cookie cutter home, with her resentful mother and her abusive, disgusting step-father, she decided to leave. she had packed her bags and stolen the keys to her step-fathers range rover, planning to sneak off in the dead of the night without a trace. but of course, things didn’t go as planned.

she had managed to get in the car when her step-father caught her, she can’t completely recall what happened, but she remembered locking the door, she can remember putting the car into reverse, swinging out into the road as he chased after it, and the next thing she remembered was a loud crash, and the sound of the engine revving and the spider web cracks forming on the bloodied windshield as she sped off.

that was two years ago, two years and she still hasn’t even attempted to return home, to call, to figure out if her step-father was okay or not… she’s been living in starlit semi-happily, spending her nights partying and sleeping around just like she had back in arizona, making easy cash by selling herself and selling her art.

she’s the usual culprit for all the graffiti around starlit, an avid fan of street art and a struggling artist, she’s constantly walking around in paint covered clothes with spray cans in tote.

TLDR: so basically malia is a spray can toting sarcastic little smart ass who is an insanely good friend and self-deprecating human being. she sleeps around for fun and for money, spends her nights drunk or high, works off nights at the fremont street experience doing street art. while loyal she can still be selfish, something she doesn’t really mean to be.

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

THE CONFIDANT: the sole person malia trusts. though trust is used lightly. she trusts them enough to talk freely, to share how she feels more than she does with anyone else, the one person she finds herself actively searching for, her only true friend... she’s loyal to them above all else, and she tries not to spoil it, though she figures knowing her it’ll get fucked up in the end.

THE EX: There was a period of time where Malia attempted to love another. though she couldn’t find herself falling into place like they wanted, they were perfect, better than she could’ve asked for, and yet she still found her eyes wandering and after a few mishaps, they found out she was sleeping around, they don’t speak much now but when they do it’s never good. 

THE FREQUENT FLYER: Malia tries to keep work from following her home, but after a drunken desperate night for this starlit resident and her, she found herself making an easy twenty bucks for practically nothing, and they’re not bothersome, most of the time the poor soul just wants someone to listen to them talk. 

that’s really all I can think of in detail but any sort of plot connection can work with malia, friendships or enemies, people who hate her because she slept with their boyfriend or girlfriend, people she fucked over because they liked her and thought they had something and she just ghosted, whatever your heart wants I am honestly down for.

[sapphic-sustrai]

So I’ve been sitting on these for a while, but I finally decided to share a few headcanons that I have about Emerald. 

{Also before we begin I just want to remind people that these are my personal headcanons for Emerald Sustrai and if you disagree with anything that I say here that’s fine! Everyone has their own interpretations & ideas. All that I ask is for you is to be respectful of my opinions and don’t try to shove your own down my throat}.

That being said, this will be under a read-more, just in case this gets a bit long.

Emerald’s past/family life has always been something that I’ve thought about since hearing that one lyric from I’m The One, “Who rose out of filth and was loved by no-one.” With only this one lyric to go off of {since we don’t know much about Emerald’s family history}, I’ve determined that Emerald probably came from an unloving home. Honestly it doesn’t matter if either both of her parents or only one of them were involved in her life, she still would’ve come from a family that never really cared about her. As for how she ended up on the streets, to me it’s either A) She was kicked out of her home and disowned by her family or B) She ran away from home, thinking that she’s better off on the streets than staying in an environment that made her feel completely miserable. I’ve actually made somewhat of a, “Sustrai Family Tree”, with my own OC’s of who her parents would be, but I think I’ll save that for another time. 

I headcanon that Emerald’s star sign is Gemini and that her date of birth is May 27th. Personality wise, some of the traits of a Gemini that Emerald has would be: cunning, witty, sarcastic, irritable, outgoing/charming, showing loyalty {unfortunately to the wrong people}, and to me she seems like someone who’s guarded and is a little reluctant to be open with others. Her birthday is in May because the month’s birthstone is the emerald, which symbolizes love and success. These are two things that I think Emerald truly craves to have in her life. As for her birth date, the 27th of May just seems. However, it is also known as Mother’s Day in some countries such as Sweden or the Dominican Republic {I feel really mean about including this because Emerald probably grew up with an uncaring Mother. I’m so sorry}. 

I believe that Emerald is a fan of reading/literature in general. I just think that the way that she lists off those books in V2 EP1 {The Thief & The Butcher, Violet’s Garden, and Third Crusade}, either she’s maybe read at least one of the books or she’s at the very least heard about them. Genres that I think that she’d be the most interested in would be: history, true-crime, thrillers, mystery, romance, and maybe fantasy. On a sadder note, I feel as if Emerald used reading as a form of escapism starting when she was younger. Since we don’t know the full extent of how Emerald’s possibly unloving family treated her, maybe she used books as a way to escape from her harsh reality...even if it was just for a little while.

I headcanon Emerald as a lesbian, as I don’t really see her being all that interested in men.

From what I’ve noticed, Emerald appears to lack self-love & self respect. When it comes to self-love, Emerald doesn’t seem to have any sort of regard for her own well-being or her own happiness for that matter. She practically puts Cinder’s goals and desires before her own. As for self-respect, she doesn’t really have that either. If she did have self-respect, she would have no problem standing up to Cinder whenever she mistreats her. However, Cinder has no problem abusing her {whether that’s physically or mentally} and Emerald never stands up for herself, which indicates to me that she doesn’t really know her own worth as a person. Honestly, Emerald really does need to learn how love/respect herself and realize her worth as a person.

This is all that I have for now, I want to make another post like this sometime soon. If you have any questions or comments, my askbox is always open!

I feel like I’ve become an Emerald blog and honestly I’m really okay with this!

[bodesiee-blog]

Some thoughts

I just want to take a moment to highlight a very important person in my life: Jeff (My fiance)

When we first got together, I told him I struggle a lot with anxiety and depression and, not gonna lie, actually told him that to try to scare him off. His reply was "okay, we can figure something out"

I used to live in a highly abusive household bc my dad is an alcoholic and (not certain about this) but possibly has a similar disorder to mine (schizoaffective), untreated of course. Aside from emotional abuse and neglect from my dad, one of my brothers and my sister would hit, choke, and threaten me (and each other). It was a wild house to live in. Anyway, jeff helped me get out of that house for good. I have left twice before but went back for god knows what reason.

He takes very good care of me. Before I got my dx, I have had to go on 2 mental health leaves from work and I have only worked there barely a year and a half. Both times he has supported me, didn't rush me, and encouraged me to just work on getting better.

I got my dx about 2 weeks ago, and at first I didn't tell him. I didn't really know how bc it is such a stigmatized dx. This time I didn't want to lose him so I hid my issues. Finally, i told him. And I told him a little bit about what it means and what treatment options there are and the fact that I can recover from this. It's possible.

He didn't leave me, like I thought he would.

He didn't question me or try to explain away the symptoms, like I thought he would.

He didn't treat me any different, other than looking out for me even more and rewording things.

He reminds me i am safe and that he is there for me. He stays with me until he is sure I can handle being alone.

He doesnt treat me like a child and he doesn't laugh at me.

All of those fears that I had about how I would get treated where dispelled. I still have the thoughts that they could still happen bc that's just how my brain works and I try to remind myself of the evidence against it.

Growing up, I never thought I would ever be in a healthy relationship. I didn't see any hope of it at all. I figured I would end up getting used and abused for all of my life. Thats one of the things abuse does to you.

I try my best to remind him that I am here for him too. I may have my issues but that doesn't mean his should go uncared for. And he does tell me a bit, usually when it's getting to be too much, and I try my best to help.

Anyway, so if you think that because of your past or because you have [x] disorder that you are unlovable or don't deserve real love and to be cared for, you are wrong. It is possible. There are good people out there.

[woozletania]

Fifteen depressing Rocket headcanons and one relatively cheerful one

(Note: A lot of these get looked at and worked on in my various stories.  And this list could probably be compiled down to a lower number.  First draft, as it were.)

#1: The researchers who made Rocket ran a wire into his pleasure center so he feels good when he does things they wanted him to do (piloting, tinkering, fighting).  He doesn't know about this.  All he knows is that until he met the Guardians about the only pleasure he ever felt was while acting as a living weapon or building things.

#2: Rocket hides the scars on his back from the other Guardians.  Only Peter knows about them due to seeing Rocket without a shirt on the Kiln.  Gamora would try to force Rocket to get them worked on if she knew about them.  Because...

#3: Rocket is in more or less constant pain from shoddily installed cybernetics and infected scars on his back.  His augmented immune system and a limited form of fast healing keeps him alive.  He hides all this from others and drowns his sorrows in drink since letting them know would be a sign of weakness. And he won't let anyone work on him because...

#4: Rocket is scared to death of doctors.  Every doctor he's ever been near has either been a callous prison doc or one of the people who made him – the latter thought in terms of “scalpel first, anesthesia later maybe (if the screaming is too distracting.”)  He doesn't even like to sleep when he's around others because he doesn't trust anyone which brings us to...

#5: Rocket will find the darkest, most obscure, most easily defended place to sleep, preferably an air vent or other location too tight for larger creatures.  He reacts violently when anyone (except Groot) disturbs him while he's sleeping and will bite you in a second if he catches you touching him or even near him when he wakes.  Of course he won't admit why he does this but it's because...

#6: Rocket lives in fear.  Fear of being pushed around, hurt, operated on or treated as an animal.  His entire prickly facade is a protective shell.  He only gets through each day by being the meanest thing in the room.  He never opens up to anyone about this because...

#7: Prior to Drax petting him, Rocket never knew a moment of comfort, compassion or love.  He regarded Groot as a co-worker (something he realized too late was not the case: Groot genuinely cared for him and he cared right back).  Up until the moment of Groot's death he didn't know that he cared, because he had no standard to judge it against.  No one cared about Rocket.  (Or so he thought). And he didn't care about anyone, either. Why care about a universe where everyone is out to get you? Ultimately it all boiled down to:

#8: All Rocket ever wanted was respect. All he ever wanted to be treated like a person, not a thing.  And he never got it...until Quill and the rest of the Guardians showed up. By the end of GOTG 1 he started to feel things he'd never felt before.  Contentment.  Belonging.  Friendship.  Which led directly to:

#9: Rocket lashes out at people who he feels are getting too close to him.  He's internally certain that they are out to get him or hurt him in some way, because with the exception of Groot every single person he's gotten close to has hurt him.  Lack of trust and a lack of early contact with anyone but amoral researchers means....

#10: Rocket has (or had) no social skills whatsoever.  He's an abrasive little ass because of his horrible upbringing.  It's a defense mechanism.  Raised to know only pain and exploitation and never trusting a living soul, he naturally has no verbal filter.  He comes across as uncaring, but...

#11: Rocket, though he doesn't know it, is desperate for affection.  For friendship, or love, or anything but the endless anger and pain that have defined his life.  He's never known friendship but he craves it more than anything and hurting one of his maybe-friends inspires in him an almost suicidal rage. Afterward he may question why he did it.  He doesn't know, because....

#12: Rocket doesn't know how people are supposed to behave because he's never been treated as a person.  Good social skills come from early contact with others and loving parents or relatives.  He never had any of that.  It's why he latched onto Quill so quickly, almost like a child craving a parent.  Emulating his behavior and listening to his music.  Which brings us to:

#13: Almost everything Rocket does is based on the fact that for all intents and purposes he's a horribly abused child who never had love, affection or a family.  Stealing cybernetics from others because he's half machine and was awake and in agony as he was made. It's like stealing back part of himself. Lashing out at others because all he's ever known is thoughtless cruelty directed at the “little freak”.  Reacting in rage when anyone calls him an animal because that's how the researchers treated him.  This could all be avoided because, in the end:

#14: All Rocket wants is to be treated like a person.  He doesn't expect special treatment.  He doesn't want an extra cut of the loot because he's super useful to have around.  And he'd never expect special treatment due to being super cute because he has no idea he is.  He views himself as a mangled little thing, a monster someone built.  But treat him as a person and he'll warm right up.  It's why he got along with the Guardians and why he instantly warmed up to Thor.  Thor didn't say a single word about him being weird or monstrous.  Thor just treated him as a person.  That's all it takes.  Problem solved.

#15: Rocket fully expects to die in battle one of these days.  He's knows that despite his cybernetics he's small and fragile compared to most creatures.  The good news, if you can call it that, is that now, finally, he's begun to realize that there are people who value him.  People that care and who will miss him.  But he's OK with dying still, if it's for a good cause, because...

#16: Rocket's already gotten more from life than he ever expected to get.  He expected to rot in prison or die in a gutter, unloved and forgotten.  The one thing he never thought he'd have, he has: he's not alone any more.

[usamyzonians]

It’s Not Okay

It’s been about a year since I started distancing myself from Tal.  One thing still burns me up, however:

Here I was, in a relationship with someone who had decided that I wasn’t a person.  That it was okay to enslave me, rape me, discriminate against me.  That anyone who disagreed with that was persecuting their newfound religion and that the rest of us just didn’t understand their “struggles” (lol, you’ve been part of it for ten minutes, you haven’t suffered or struggled for it).

And for some reason, they were the one shocked that I wasn’t okay with that.  For some reason, I’m the asshole in this scenario, where I was being shouted down for not wanting to be hated or oppressed.

In elementary school, we had these “fight forms.”  The forms--as well as the Principal--expected you to fill out solutions of what you could better do to avoid fighting in the future.  And the reality is, sometimes I escalated things.  But one day, a kid punched me in the back of the head when I was talking to  a friend.

The principal was very understanding and symnpathetic, but he wanted something in that box.  What could I have done?  Surely, I must have done something.

This is a mentality I’ve carried into my adult life.  When someone says “you’re a filthy tranny and if you don’t like it you’re a Nazi!” I wonder what I could have done differently.  Except I stopped engaging Charlotte, and then I stopped engaging Tal.  And not engaging them still wasn’t enough to stop hearing how it was okay to hurt me, and if I had a problem then I was a cross-burning bigot (slight hyperbole, but they really did use the word “nazi” to describe people who supported LGBT rights...ironic for someone who identifies as non-binary nano-pico-demigierl/girl-aligned but definitely not female and definitely “gay”).

And I ask myself what I did to make them think this was okay.  Because I fought them on this.  I yelled.  and then, finally, when I wasn’t being heard, I gave up.  Tal would rather be hateful than be with me, or so I thought.  They apparently wanted me enough to stalk me, but not enough to stop telling me it was wrong to not want to be persecuted.

So what was I to feel?  Well, I felt unloved, uncared for, and actively hated.  I dn’t know why anyone would feel that this is a relationship I’d want to be in.

But I was wrong again, because I discounted something that should be obvious to me.  It’s possible Tal did love me, and was just clueless.  I grew up with inconsiderate people.  My mother, my fifteen aunts and uncles, both sets of grandparents are so inconsiderate they make my dad look warm and sunny, and he has problems with interpersonal relations.  He, at least, tries.

The thing is, it doesn’t readily occur to me because I grew up withthis being the normal for the MAGA crowd.  My family were some of the most aggressive people I’ve ever known about their beliefs, but also some of the most brittle, because they don’t think about others.

Tal used to be the opposite.  Tal used to be this wonderful caring supportive person, until they discovered tribalism, and the “us vs them” mentality.  I don’t know if they still loved me or not, but they certainly stopped thinking about others.  Their new-found religion trumped their sense of social justicve, and in a sense it no longer mattered if they loved me or not.

Because even a year later, I still love Tal.  When I hear about news happening in their area, I worry about them.  And none of that matters, because I have to look out for myself, and I can’t be with someone who thinks I am less of a human than they are, no matter how either of us feel.  The things Tal said, and the things that they backed Charlotte on, were hateful and abusive even if they loved me.  Then they stalked me.  Got their brothers to stalk me.  Someone I loved led me to feel unsafe.  For the first time in 25 years, I was telling my friends not to talk about me.  I think I scared some of them, which makes sense.  I was scared by these actions from someone who thinks that people like me--LGBT individuals--are not human and not subject to the same rights ad treatment as the Master Race.

As a minority, I am sensitive to the plight of other minorities, but I will never stand by while people are talking about oppressing a minority group.  Being a minority doesn’t make it okay.  Being my lover doesn’t make it okay.  And damn anyone who makes me feel awful for not tolerating intolerance.

Myself included, as I keep asking myself what I did to make them think hate was okay.