#i know how to act around my friends who’ve I’ve known for years but I seriously struggle with anyone else | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zgvlt · 2 years

Text

the tropification of our vacation jamil viper x reader

summary: You and Jamil go on a vacation together as friends, and unsurprisingly leave as something more.

author's note: jamil in a hallmark movie except it's not christmas. i put a good amount of tropes in this hence the title, but also tried to subvert them in small ways.

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff, friends to lovers, childhood friends, 7.7k+ words, not beta read, slight spoilers for the al'ab nariya event

you can also read this on AO3

THAT TROPE WHERE TWO FRIENDS WHO’VE CRUSHED ON EACH OTHER FOR YEARS END UP ON A TRIP WITH JUST THE TWO OF THEM

“I know I’ve already told you this over the phone, but I really can’t get over it. Your sister just comes up to me and demands I buy plane tickets from her because something urgent came up, and that the trip she was supposed to go on is in two weeks and it’s going to be with you .”

“Should I apologize for her?” Jamil asked, a small huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Although… Why does it sound like you don’t want to go on a trip with me?”

“Of course I do. Would I be here if I didn’t?” There was no hesitation with how fast you countered him, even though you must have known he was merely joking. “I don’t just shell out my hard-earned money for anyone.”

So he’s still someone you deem special. Or maybe you were referring to Najma, who you’ve always liked to joke was your favorite Viper. Either way you being here, about to board a plane with him, meant you still enjoyed his presence to a high enough degree.

“It’s a little funny though. We don’t see each other in person for almost half a year, then I come back to Silk City and next thing you know I’m leaving again for a vacation.” Jamil had thought the same as you. When you told him you were back in the city, he had begun making arrangements to ask for a leave of absence to meet up with you again. It seemed that was unnecessary, however, with his sister telling him you would substitute her on their planned sibling vacation.

“But I don’t mind,” you added swiftly, likely anticipating another comment from him, “I’m always happy to be able to take a break.”

It was a statement difficult to debate because he happened to feel the exact same way.

Jamil was never really one for joy, never really thought he could receive it in more than fleeting, bite-sized portions. He simply asked for relaxation, and there he would receive contentment.

And yet, strangely, Jamil found himself feeling unusually giddy despite it all. It would be classified as a rare instance of happiness, all because he got the opportunity to travel with you.

Don’t get him wrong, he would have been just as happy (and certainly feel less unsure of himself) should his sister have not backed out of their trip, but all the same he could not help being in high spirits at getting to have some time alone with you. It was to a point that he dreaded how happy it made him feel, even just the thought of you, knowing once he had you in his head it would be difficult taking you out of it.

Not that he minded too much. Fanciful daydreams revolving around you were much preferable to dwelling on the misfortunes of his past, or the hardships that would aid to the attainment of his ideal future.

“But, you know, Najma…”

What he would like to take out, however, was your need to continuously mention his little sister, as if the two of you had nothing else to talk about. Jamil will actually be driven crazy if you bring her up again and again throughout the rest of the trip. With the way the conversation has been going, was he your childhood friend or not?

“If it has to do with my sister, I probably know it already,” he sighed, already tired of the repetitive conversation. He wanted to catch up with you , and while he held a heavy reluctance in letting you know about his feelings any time soon, he was just going to have to be upfront and nip this particular problem in the nub. “You’re acting as if the two of us haven’t been friends for years. Let’s stop talking about her and talk about something else.”

Not that Jamil knew what exactly something else was, but as long as he got out of that zone, he was willing to go along with whatever conversation topic you wanted.

“Then, do you mean we should talk about us? ” Reflexively, Jamil brought his hand up to tug at his hood, only to realize the turtleneck he was wearing lacked one—and it would be stupid and incredibly obvious what he was attempting to hide had he pulled up the collar instead. “That’s what people typically say after that kind of line, right?”

“How should I know? Do I look like the type to have a romantic bone in my body?” Your immediate answer should have been no. He knew himself just as well as he knew people’s perceptions of him—he was the type who appeared to give little thought about love and such, someone much too focused on their career. His thoughts may beg to differ, but his actions spoke louder. You probably knew that just as well.

"Who knows? Things change when people get older. Maybe you actually decided to give dating a try while I was gone.” You suddenly paused, throwing him a serious look, as if something about the words you spoke had just caught up to you. “Are you seeing anyone? As in, seriously?”

This was not where Jamil thought the conversation was going to go.

“No. I’ve been too busy,” already being in love with you, so it would just be a waste of time trying, “but why do you want to know?”

Was this Jamil trying to find any information that would allow himself to let his feelings grow further, to encourage him to eventually take action to make you his? He supposed he needed to be more certain.

“It would be troublesome,” you began slowly, now more careful with your words than you had been before, “if you had a partner and they found out you were going on a trip. Alone with a friend they have never met before. I don’t want misunderstandings.”

“I don’t like misunderstandings either,” he agreed. Though it was not the most desirable answer, he appreciated your constant consideration for him. Besides, it gave him the opportunity to return the question. “Since you already asked me, let's clear it up completely now. You… are you in a relationship?”

Jamil relaxed his face as much as possible, rendering himself to a neutral state regardless of what your answer would be, but he could not deny the inward relief he had felt when you shook your head no.

“I was also too busy. I had no plans of getting into one when I would return to Silk City.”

Return to Silk City, and return to him.

If Jamil had so much as shown a trace of delight at the revelation, you didn’t point it out, although you did look awfully pleased as you boarded the plane. Jamil didn’t point that out either, knowing you would simply blame your excitement for the trip, knowing he would be a hypocrite mirroring you.

THAT TROPE WHERE TWO GOOD FRIENDS PRETEND TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP

It was inevitable, really, but he had wrongly assumed that people would at least ask before, well, being upfront with their assumptions about him and you.

That had not been the case.

It began at the airport, some time after the plane had landed and everyone scrambled to find their luggage.

An incredibly gaudy, brightly colored bag might be most optimal for situations like this, but Jamil had been more concerned with keeping his belongings safe, so he figured some stickers and his uniform tie from back in college tied to the handle would be distinguishable enough.

It was, but the same couldn’t be said for you. Even though you insisted no one would mistake your bag for theirs, someone had gotten your luggage and took off.

Jamil wasn’t going to start an incident in a foreign country, he probably would have felt more inclined to do so in his homeland, so he was going to run on the assumption this really was a mix-up. For his sanity and yours.

The man had apologized to him, not that Jamil completely bought that it was an accident, before turning to face you once Jamil pointed out that he was apologizing to the wrong person.

“Of course, I’ll apologize to your partner as well.”

That was what started it.

Well, no. People have been teasing him about you for a while—people meaning Najma, who was the only one who had managed to sniff it out (like he would ever tell anyone he had feelings for someone)—but certainly a first in a foreign land of all places. Were people always so quick to assume out here?

Jamil blinked, then quickly shrugged any surprise off. What was the point of correcting a stranger anyway?

“Yes, we’d appreciate that.”

The second must have been only half an hour later, with the two of you deciding to catch a cab on the way to the hotel. The only time he would do so, he told himself, considering how much cheaper it was to ride other forms of public transportation as opposed to taxi cabs, but he was tired, you were tired; he would just have to close his eyes at the amount.

“So where are you and your boyfriend heading off to?” He side-eyed you, wanting to see how you would react to the question, to him getting called your boyfriend. Surprisingly, you responded the same way he would have—not caring to dispute the claim.

“Twisted Hotel, the one along Nocturne Street.”

The driver let out a low whistle. “Not the best, but worth the buck you spend. Should be fine if you plan on spending most of your time outside.”

“Mhmm. No point in going on a vacation just to stay locked up in your room, is there?” Jamil added, a seemingly agreeable statement.

“You got that right. I’ll say, a downright shame to not make the most of the trip…and speaking of,” the man turned his head to face both him and you, a knowing grin present on his face, “let me tell you lovebirds the best places to visit. Real romantic ones, the ones that aren’t tourist traps. Cheaper, too. Got to help the local economy, you know.”

You looked at him, waiting for him to judge the situation. This was either some well-meaning man or a man looking to promote someone he knows happens to own. Or a man looking for a tip. Of course, Jamil’s not stupid, so a quick calculation and conversion would be enough to know a scam at first glance.

“Real good place to eat lunch two streets away from TwisTel. My aunt…” Second option then. Well, not like he couldn’t respect a family business, “... and, of course, couples get free dessert. Authentic , not mass-market. What’d you say?”

Oh. No wonder they were getting promoted to. He’s familiar enough with these kinds of deals—there was a café on his old campus that pulled the occasional buy three, get one for free promo that always caused suckers to come in big groups. Jamil just had to wonder if this would have happened had either one of you denied that you were dating him, or if some other promo would have been thrown your way instead.

“We should probably check-in first, but just tell us the name and we’ll drop by when we get hungry.” Jamil had to smile at that. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you had caved in, but it was always better to make your own choices rather than be trapped in one.

Well, even if you said yes, he could always drag you along to make a run for it if it turned out to be a scam.

Sure wouldn’t be the first time.

Just like how it wouldn’t be the first time the two of you got mistaken for a couple, because a couple of times had suddenly increased to a little more than so with the receptionist adding to the mix. To be fair on her end, it was partially his fault. It’s easy to connect unlabeled dots.

“Who knew the Vipers would be so young…”

“We get that a lot,” he said, like a liar. He thought he at least looked his age, but he knew that alone wasn’t what she was referring to. For starters, Najma wasn’t there to fill up the expected Viper ratio. He also didn’t disclose that his sister was his original travel companion, because why would the hotel need to know that?

“It’s such a shame we’re fully booked. I’m sure the two of you would prefer a different room.”

“We’re just glad to have a room in the first place.” Not wishing to talk anymore, it was only about time he’d get asked if they were celebrating some kind of honeymoon or anniversary, he took the keys on the desk and left with his luggage, you in tow.

“That was pretty smooth, you know,” you said, not caring too much in keeping up the pretense now that the two of you were out of earshot. Although it could be argued that neither he nor you did anything to pretend in particular, more so just going along with the circumstances granted. “I’m surprised you didn’t counter anyone though.”

“Well, I went along with it because I don’t want to have to spend more time explaining to people what we really are.” There was also the side piece of information that you’ve secured a place in his heart for years, but that piece of knowledge was better kept away from you. If not forever, then at least until the trip ended. “But what’s your excuse? The taxi driver asked you first.”

“Um, the same thing? Like what you said, what’s the point of telling irrelevant people that we’re actually not together like that but travelling together. It overcomplicates things.” The two of you were on the same page. That was… good.

“But you don’t hate it right?” you suddenly asked, momentarily concerned for him. “If it makes you uncomfortable to be seen as my–”

“I don’t hate it,” Jamil interjected, which might have been the most truthful thing he’s said since getting in that cab. “I don’t like how people assume things about us, but it has nothing to do with you. I don’t feel ashamed of it at all.”

And you needed to know that, lest you find yourself misunderstanding something. Yes he’d rather you not know what he felt about you right now, but he’d also prefer that over you thinking he disliked the idea of being your partner. The truth was the farthest thing from it, really.

Fluster-inducing, but not embarrassing.

“And you? Are you okay with this?” he asked in return. If you said no it would probably hurt more than just his ego, but he would understand. It wouldn’t deter him from enjoying his time with you either way.

“Of course,” you replied, with a peculiar gleam in your eye. It was as though any traces of reluctance and discomfort had been shaken off of your person, in which only excitement remained. “It’s you, so of course I am.”

THAT TROPE WHERE THEY FIND A WAY TO INITIATE NOT-SO PLATONIC PHYSICAL CONTACT

It was cold this time of the year. Not the coldest month, not freezing temperatures, but still cold. Jamil knew this, for it was the exact reason he had chosen to travel here at this time of all times. He could always appreciate not just a change of scenery, but a change in weather as well.

Also, it was extremely hot in the Scalding Sands right now, so he was not experiencing the least bit of weather envy.

Of course Jamil also wasn’t the type of mad man to walk through the snow in one layer of clothing, he knew his body wouldn’t be able to handle it, so he dressed properly for the area.

Not everyone got the memo.

“I’m still mostly dressed properly,” you countered, gesturing to the rest of your attire. Indeed you had a sweater, one a shade of red he thought matched your complexion well, and a coat he remembered haggling the price down for you at the markets.

But where were your gloves?

“Mostly, meaning you still forgot something,” Jamil sighed, watching you stuff your hands down the pockets of your coat for some relief. It didn’t feel right to just grab your hands and check—it wasn’t like the two of you were pretending for anyone right now, not with the two of you just roaming the streets—but they looked cold.

“We even went through the checklist together the night before we left. How’d you forget?”

“I didn’t leave it on purpose . Gloves are small and easy to misplace. I forgot them—either I find them miraculously tucked in some compartment, or I go buy new ones during the trip.” What’s done is done , you were essentially saying, but he was going to disagree. He knew himself, and he knew he would keep glancing down at your hands to check if they were shivering for the rest of the afternoon if he didn’t do something about it.

The logical thing to do would be to find the nearest clothing store, or maybe a stall at some bazaar that sold gloves made with warm fabrics and local designs, but making use of logic was difficult in the face of an opportunity.

Again, not that Jamil was aiming for anything in particular. It was just… an instinctive decision.

“Give me your hand,” he paused, and then reworded it, “Hold out your hand.”

He thought you would question him, and maybe you were doing just that in your head, but you did so without asking him why. Maybe you didn’t ask because you already knew what he was doing, that he would take off one of his gloves and place it atop the palm of your hand, your fingers immediately clasping the knitted material.

He had given it to you for you to wear, but you weren’t doing just that. For what must have been half a minute you merely stared at it, as though you were contemplating its texture, or perhaps its size.

“You don’t have to wear it. If you don’t like how it fits you, you can just hold it between your hands. It should give your hand some semblance of warmth regardless.”

As long as your hands were at least a little warmer, what did it matter if one hand of his had grown colder than the other? He could just make do like you had been moments ago and shove one hand down a pocket, maybe grab a warm beverage to go while the two of you walked the city.

“Jamil? Your hand.”

“Yes?” He looked down at his hand. What about his hand? It was there, it was bare, what of it?

“Make space for me.” And then you put your own hand, the one that was gloveless, into his coat pocket. If the weather was hotter, Jamil was sure he would have combusted, but if it was hotter you wouldn’t be holding his hand. In that regard, he had the cold to thank, and the falling snow to use as an excuse as to why he was pulling on his hood all of a sudden.

You didn’t ask about it, but he had caught you looking and your wordlessness was just as embarrassing, if not more so.

“Walking like this is kind of inconvenient, isn’t it?” It was more statement than question because it was inconvenient, the both of you must have known as much, but neither you nor he untangled their fingers from where they refused to part.

“But at least both of our hands are warm now,” thought he; said you.

THAT TROPE WHERE… WAIT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S MORE THAN ONE BED?

There’s two beds, and Jamil’s not the least bit surprised. He, after all, was the one who made the bookings for the rooms and there was no way he was sleeping in the same bed as his little sister (who he would have roomed with had she not backed out, though he still wondered if Najma had actually set him up).

There was the unfortunate circumstance of the beds being quite small and not-too comfortable looking, twin-sized as they were, but he knew what he was getting into—he chose not to splurge on the hotel for the purpose of using that money for other things.

Besides, they were only in their hotel rooms to sleep so who cared if the thread count was too high and the fabric hardly glided against his skin? The fabric manufactured in the Scalding Sands was simply too good that all else paled by comparison. He just had to make sure to check that the sheets were washed and clean, that there were no pests , and that everything was properly sanitized.

That was, of course, his mindset which, at the time, operated under the assumption that he would be vacationing with his sister, not the person he wanted to impress most.

It was another unfortunate thing—that even if he wanted to, he could not simply get up and purchase a better room, so he would at least make sure you got the better of two beds. It was him hoping that if the activities of the day had not been enough to knock you out like a light, then at least you would have an easier time succumbing to slumber.

Plus, waking with an ache in your back was a pain in the ass and he’d rather you not experience that at any time of the day, especially so early in the morning.

“Jamil, are you sure you want that bed?”

Hardly.

“No, but does it matter? I don’t like either one; I’d much prefer my bed back home,” he said, admittingly holding back to a certain extent about his opinions. Sure he wasn’t the pickiest, could hardly afford to be, but he knew of luxury and enjoyed what he knew. Still, he wasn’t going to start listing off everything wrong with the pillows and blankets, was he now? “But it’s a practical choice.”

“You’re not wrong, it’s just–” you cleared your throat, an action Jamil knew was more forced than needed– “don’t you think you’ll be cold later?”

There was a reason Jamil’s bed was the less desirable of the two. Dingy hotel rooms didn’t exactly have the highest quality of beddings and furniture, that was to be expected as you paid for what you got, but they were also particularly careful with not having the more delicate items prodded at and moved in case they got broken by the customer. Case point: not having control over where the heater was located, or how strong the aircon temperature would be.

Understandable, but it still sucked to be on the receiving end of it. Whatever, he would live.

“I can just get up and put on a jacket if I have to.”

“A second jacket, you mean.”

“What, do you want me to steal your blanket? Because I can very well do that. Maybe the heater is enough for you to stay warm, hmm?”

“Oh, so you did. You did let me have this bed deliberately.”

It would have been better for Jamil’s pride if you had just kept that revelation to yourself. He was sure you had known even before he said anything—he doubted you were so dense as to not realize he did not want the risk of you shivering due to the cold getting colder in the middle of the night—but you had to go and point it out just to have your go at flustering him.

Well it worked, but he wasn’t going to give you any more satisfaction by letting you know. Jamil was just going to wrap himself up in a blanket and pretend he had fallen asleep, like that conversation had not happened.

Like a child keeping their eyes shut for far too long just to be sure their parents would not suspect them of being up past bedtime, he eventually did find himself too worn out to stay awake. It must have been some time past eleven in the evening when he had dozed off, and it was three in the morning when his eyes had opened once more.

The first thing on his mind was that it was freezing.

Contrary to popular belief the Scalding Sands was by no means as hot as hell, not always, and definitely dependent on location. Just as the sun would descend so would the temperature; some areas having more humidity than others.

Oh, and there was that time the temperature in his dorm mysteriously dropped, but the time he spent at his alma mater had always been odd.

Regardless, that, by no means, made Jamil used to the cold. He dressed himself properly and tolerated it, but preparation and mindset could never really combat sensations—he was cold, and he was going to have to escape his blanket and feel colder just to grab the coat he had thrown over the singular chair in the room, then—

“Jamil, did you wake up?”

He wasn’t sure if you simply had troubles sleeping at night or if you had a terrible sleep schedule, maybe he should have asked beforehand, but Jamil had not expected you to be up at this hour.

“Since when have you been awake?” he asked, still not making the move to get out of bed. Socks were hardly enough—he should have worn gloves as well… or a glove, considering you had not returned the one he lent you.

“After you,” you replied quietly, “you were cussing out the cold when I woke up.”

“Oh.” After he thought about it, as much energy as he was willing to spend thinking anyway, it did make sense. He just figured he would have been conscious enough to do it more under his breath. “Sorry I woke you, but you should try to go back to sleep. We have a long day ahead of ourselves.”

Jamil expected a variation of “speak for yourself ” from you, but after some shuffling noises he felt you tugging at his arm, doing as much damage as you could without getting off of the bed.

“Sit beside me for a little bit. Let’s get you warmed up.”

Jamil had no plans of saying no.

“It’s warmer here,” he commented, his shoulder bumping against yours as you wrapped him in the duvet with you. The permeating warmth was familiar, and it was brushing against what of his skin it could reach, soothing him.

Your bed was an infinitely better spot to be in, but he had no particular regrets about his choice, other than perhaps not packing an electric heating pad in his luggage. He was just sorry you had woken up because of him, as per what you implied.

Still, he supposes there’s something about this, about now that he finds himself enjoying. Some hours ago he had been too tired to comprehend anything other than making sure the both of you got some sleep.

Now, however, while still groggy and exhausted, he could appreciate the domesticity of getting to sleep in the same room as you, knowing the two of you would wake up to each other, avail that mediocre complimentary hotel breakfast before actually heading out to get something a little better.

It was not exactly new, having been a concept or idea to him in some daydream, but now it was a fully-realized experience.

It was odd. It was familiar.

He willed himself to stay up a little longer.

“Do you think you’re the type of person who dreams a lot?”

Jamil turned to you in response, shifting just enough to look at you without having his face bump against yours uncomfortably.

“What brought that on?”

“Because I was dreaming before I woke up. I guess it’s just on my mind,” you said with a shrug. It seemed reasonable enough on the surface, but Jamil recognized the question for what it truly was—a thinly veiled excuse.

He would have changed the topic if someone else had asked. Even now, there was a part of him that preferred to take the easy way out, the decision he was used to—something vague to satisfy someone just enough, a taste of something they’ll never fully understand.

But it’s you, and even with all of his reservations he knew, deep down, he wanted you to know and understand him more than you seem to already do. Jamil wants to be understood, wants to be recognized—if not by the world, then let it be the closest thing to it.

“Of course. Don’t most people have a dream at least at one point in their life?” Jamil paused for a moment, before quietly admitting, “For the longest time, dreams were all I really had.”

You neither laugh at him nor immediately attempt to comfort him. An influx of attention still brought him discomfort, but at times like this, or perhaps because it was you handing it to him, it was nice to be listened to. It was as though his thoughts and emotions held importance.

“What do you dream about?”

“Everything.” What had Jamil not dreamed about? Money, power, fame—anything and everything that would allow him control over his own life, to be respected for who he is and who he would become, not for what he could do for someone else. “I’ve dreamt about everything at some point. Having everything. Sometimes I still dream those same dreams.

“Even if I can’t attain something, It’s not bad to dream.”

“It’s never a bad thing to dream,” you agreed. “It is beautiful to dream. People who dream are beautiful. You…” are beautiful for dreaming . It went unsaid, but Jamil heard it anyway, soft and quiet as if you had whispered it in his ear. The thought of you was enough to have him feeling bashful most days, but words gone undeclared had him more flustered than he could typically handle.

“Have any of your dreams come true yet?”

“The simpler ones,” he said, before choosing to correct himself. No, the dream itself was not just simple, but something deeply important to him. “A simple but significant part of a dream I’ve had for the longest time.”

“Travelling,” you said knowingly, “I remember. We used to talk about the different places we’d go to when we got older, basing our decisions off of book illustrations and how pretty the foreign wares they’d sell at the markets were.”

“You would point at the map and mispronounce all the names,” Jamil added, amused at the recollection, “and you talked about them like you were going to visit each and every country in the following weeks.”

“And then I told you I’d bring you and Najma all sorts of souvenirs—only the most colorful food for her, so she wouldn’t have to complain about how plain your food looked anymore. For you, obviously books about the places I would visit, maybe snow globes with the little landmarks in them. And then–”

“–then I told you off for not choosing to bring me along. Why would I want a snow globe when you can see the snow in person instead?” So he said, even though he always liked the novelty of it as a child. Even if the little flakes inside the glass were fake. “And now we’re older, travelling somewhere with real snow, where the landmarks can’t be kept in some glass ball.”

And someone out there had been gracious enough to listen to his complaints. Perhaps you hadn’t dragged him along with you, but the two of you had travelled together yesterday, and later today, and will continue to do so until the two of you headed back home. A wishful childhood fantasy had somehow come true.

“Well, this is only the start. There’s still the rest of the world to get to.”

For a few minutes neither of you said anything more. Maybe you, just like him, were thinking about what the rest of the world really entailed—for you and for him.

“Well,” you began to say, deliberately bumping your shoulder into his. It was as if to let him know you were telling him a joke, “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself even with you having to look after me.”

That did not sound like a joke to Jamil.

Jamil could leave it at that—a joke, one he could keep rolling. In fact, he was a little tempted to take the easy way out and call you an idiot because you really could be, sometimes.

But you didn’t want misunderstandings; he was going to hold you to that.

“I think it’s been more enjoyable because of you.” It’s not easy for Jamil to admit anything personal. Even in his adulthood laid the underlying fear that someone will cut up his sentences word for word, scrutinize him bare and vulnerable until his soul would be all that was left of him, ready for consumption.

It should be alright, though. You had no claws to tear him apart, to shred him to pieces—with a touch as comforting as yours, he knew any vulnerability would be safe with you.

“You think?”

“I know.”

Jamil woke up back in his bed with his back aching slightly, but strangely feeling warmer than he would have originally anticipated. Realizing he must have slept past the alarm he allowed himself to rest for a few minutes longer, closing his eyes as if to relish whatever warmth was left, before moving to sit up. The action had caused a domino effect—coat after sweater after coat slinking and sinking, creating a pile atop his blanket-covered lap.

No wonder it was a little warmer—you must have piled all of that atop of him after he went back to sleep.

He puts one of them on, one he would belatedly realize was the sweater you had on yesterday, before moving to return the rest back in their respective luggages.

His coat, your coat, his sweater, another of his sweaters, one of your cardigans, his scarf, your–

He had paused midway, picking up woven fabric just to make sure it was not his morning-addled brain creating illusions. It wasn’t, and Jamil hadn’t the capacity to feel remotely upset at being lied to. If anything, he was quite exhilarated by it.

You had a pair of gloves. Not even the least bit hidden, just tucked in some corner so he wouldn’t spot it without taking a closer look.

A part of Jamil wants to wake you—mostly because he wants to spend time with you, to talk to you, but also so he could tease you, that he finally has the upper hand and can finally be the one to fluster you in revenge… but he can’t. He takes one look at you, still sleeping soundly, and knows he’ll let you sleep in a little longer.

“I’ll just open the curtains then,” he murmured to himself, deciding to let the sky choose when to wake you from your slumber.

The stars had gone with the moon, and yet you still remained.

THAT TROPE WHERE FRIENDS BECOME LOVERS

Jamil’s not exactly a romantic, certainly not in the classical sense.

When the two of you ate out he never paid for you, the two of you always splitting the bill or, if it was too much of a hassle, taking turns paying for the other. In shared purchasing decisions he always went for the best deal as opposed to the more grandiose one. Doors were opened by whoever it was closest to, and the thought of calling you a pet name like babe or baby made him want to shrivel up and wither with the weather.

He took you to that restaurant the taxi cab driver recommended instead of somewhere more high class or popular, the convenience of how close it was to the hotel and the premise of the (couple’s) free dessert catching up to the both of you.

It was good, but still.

It would be nice if he could be more romantic, but it’s simply not ingrained in him. Growing up, he hardly had any time to accumulate dating experience, just as he hardly knew of any actual credible media to use as reference—if asked to name a romantic gesture, the first he would name would likely be the old tale of the princess being taken on a magic carpet ride across the desert.

Magic carpets did not exist, thus he did not have a magic carpet. If the tale were even to be true, it would likely be some modern flying contraption like a plane.

He did not have a plane either. He was also not going to bring it up ever, and never in front of Kalim in particular.

So Jamil does his best to, essentially, just be himself and continue getting you involved in the things he had been planning to do on the trip even before he knew you were coming in Najma’s stead.

He introduced you to places he himself had never been, but who needed a tour guide anyway? Certainly not with his previous research and your habit of picking up travel brochures (most of which, thankfully, translated into a language at least one of you could understand). Things ended up working out well, if he were to base it off of how much you’ve smiled around him.

So, no, maybe he has no clue what the most romantic spots are, but he’s trying his best—maybe even more than his best, considering he’s been more conscious about impressing you due to last night (more precisely, early morning).

A part of him knows he doesn’t have to—you know him for who he was and is, the parts of him that always will be, just as he knows you the very same way—but he looked at the sky and wondered, what else could he do for you? How could he possibly turn a good day into a memorable night for the both of you?

It was nighttime again, though the two of you opted out of returning to the hotel early this time around, choosing a secluded spot outdoors for no reason other than to converse under the stars.

There was just something about the night sky that loosened lips and melted walls. In any other circumstance Jamil would be disgruntled with how easy it had been to get him to fall into a wave of comfort, but just for now he would welcome it with open arms. The cold air that hit him didn’t feel as cold as before, even though he was certain the temperature had dropped a degree more.

“I know we talked about this last night, but I don’t think I ever said what I thought—felt,” you huffed, the exhale of your breath visible to the naked eye. It was then realized he might have been too fixated on your face, your mouth, to notice such a thing. He looked away from you just as you chose to look at him. “So… I hope you know I’m happy to be here. This wouldn’t have been as wonderful a trip without you.”

So you felt the same way. Even though it wasn’t a confession, Jamil held on to the feelings your words made him feel tight to his chest, a hope not caged but housed in his heart. He wouldn’t do anything now, not when he was still working his way up to being someone worth offering up to you, but your words—did they give him the patience to wait for the right moment, or did they tempt him to risk it all at once?

“Is that so?”

“Don’t act like you’re surprised—you know so. Why do you have to make sure of what you’re already sure of?”

Because the thrill he receives hearing it straight from your lips is unmatched. Because maybe he isn’t sure, no matter how obvious something may seem; it hurts to be sure and later proven wrong.

“Because I just want to.” His answer was lackluster at best but you took kindly to it.

“Then I’m glad you’re doing more things you want. And saying what you actually want to.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and you look glad—genuinely happy for him. Jamil hadn’t put too much thought into it personally, having owed it all to already being comfortable with you, but if he thought about it a little more, wasn’t it just a big a deal that he could actually say all these things to you?

Jamil looks at the sky—properly this time, without using it as a backdrop as he looks at your visage from the corners of his eyes.

You’re glad he could say the things he wanted to say? He’d hardly scratched the surface, so he’ll say even more. His words and his time, that he can at least give you.

“If we’re talking about things we’re glad about… for me, it would be getting to see these sights with you. Even now, the sky and the moon and the stars—all of it is so beautiful, isn’t it?”

The breath you took was loud and shaky, or perhaps it was him honing his senses to focus primarily on you. He could not help himself then, turning back to look at you as you replied—

“It is.”

—and Jamil knows you had not looked away from him since he looked away from you. Not once.

“You’re not looking at the view.” The both of you locked eyes, unwavering, and Jamil, perhaps filled with a newfound resolve, had no plans on being the first to look away. He would wait for as long as you chose to speak up, or hide yourself from his sight.

“Maybe I–” To his disappointment, you chose to look away, but he doesn’t say anything to stop you from doing so—if he were someone else, maybe he would hold your chin and make you look at him once more. It would be hypocritical to call you out, he who always looked away when he found himself unable to handle the pressure of your attention, the words you graced him with. It is with that reasoning that he does not tell you to look at him again. “Right. Sorry.”

But he will call you out for something else.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Jamil tells you. Even if you do not want to look right at him, even if he has to wait for a little while longer for your gaze to reciprocate his, he continues to look at you. He thinks he understands it—the way you looked at him just then.

It is a sentiment he carries now, the thought that the stars themselves were dim in comparison to you.

“I like it when you look at me.”

Jamil recognizes the lines he’s crossing. He’s known his feelings for you for years, that of all the time he’s known you, a good majority was spent adoring you. He knows your own feelings for him too, not as well and not for as long, but enough to know it was similar enough to his own,

“No, it would be more accurate to say I like how you look at me.”

But that was never the problem. The problem was that Jamil could not be content with his life and himself, not when there was still room for him to go up and up and that kind of ambition took tireless nights and time away from himself, from relationships and the people that mattered.

“Because the way you look at me… it shows your feelings, and your feelings make me feel the same things, too.”

He’s had you in his life for years, and for years longer he wants you to be a part of it as something more, but is it okay to drag you along with him? When he’s still unsatisfied with himself, when he wants to be more, for himself and for you?

He decides… that the two of you could always talk about it some other time. He just wants you to know, if in any way you needed to make sure the same way he does.

“I’m in love with you, so look at me if you love me too… please.”

Jamil’s chest heaves not due to the cold but in anticipation, or perhaps the nervousness deep within that he might regret saying anything at all—but the fear, the anxiety, all of it is for naught, for you don’t let more than a few seconds pass before looking at him.

You look at him as if he was capable of creating miracles, as if he was a miracle himself, an existence to be grateful for. Jamil’s never known anyone who could look at him like that, who could make him feel as if he was owed the world for simply existing.

Jamil knew that if he looked a little deeper into your gaze, he would see his own eyes, mirroring that very same expression.

“We don’t have to be in a relationship yet. Not if you don’t want to,” you murmur, taking a step closer to him. That’s another amazing thing about you—you always seem to be able to simply read his mind, that you were someone who actually knew him. “But you should know by now that I won’t mind it when you’re too tired to talk, or too busy to spend a whole day with me, or if it takes you years to get to where you want to be.

“I understand it all, and I’ll be there for as long as you’ll want me. Because I love you.”

Love alone can’t solve problems, that’s not how the world works. He’ll still have to face a rocky path of hardships, the trials and tribulations to achieve his desires, his dreams , but the path no longer seems so daunting—not with you by his side.

“Jamil.” He whispers your name back to you, and when he holds you in his arms he, born from nothing, could imagine what it was like to have everything.

EXTRA:

“Don’t tell your sister, but–” you slipped your hand back into his, even though he very well knew you had a set of gloves all this time, even though he knew you weren’t doing this just to warm yourself– “I’m glad she sold me her ticket.”

“I had no plans of telling her in the first place.”

For different reasons, likely. Jamil knew his sister wouldn’t be mad, but if she was at least half as good at scheming as he was then she would be more than just delighted at the turn out of his and your vacation. If she saw him holding your hand right now she might have pretended to be disgusted at the sight of her brother and dear friend dating, but he would know, deep down, she would be the smuggest one of them all.

“Besides,” Jamil added, pressing his forehead against yours, the cold puffs of air intermingling between the two of you, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

masterlist

#jamil viper x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #jamil viper #twisted wonderland #nathya twst writing #twst imagines #twst x you

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latibvles · 7 months

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So Sad, Beautiful, Tragic has turned a year old today — which is absolutely insane to think about for a plethora of reasons. And I tried to think of things to do, before eventually settling on this celebratory inbox game, and a very simple thank you.

Contrary to its title, this story has brought me… great joy, in the past year. I started it at a considerable low point in my life, mentally. It started as an escape — to think about someone so starkly distant from myself, to make mistakes and have them be forgiven. I wanted a story about forgiveness, about friendship, about resilience.

What I got was a very kind community around me and some very lovely friends who pick me up even unknowingly. Which is honestly more than a girl could ask for.

The last longfic I ever wrote was in 2019, and to this day it remains unfinished on its little corner of the internet. Just twelve chapters of unfinished fanfiction. If you told me a year ago that a story that was never supposed to leave my drafts would end up fifty chapters long, with people who comment regularly on it, who share the same enthusiasm for it that I do? I’d call you insane. But here we are. And I’m happy to be here :)

I do want to thank some specific people though, because where would I be without this community?

@softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @liebgotts-lovergirl and @mercurygray : be it once or like five times, whether it’s a deciding pivotal plot detail , beta-reading, or just trying to name a chapter title , I’ve messaged all of you at one point and you’ve lended me your ear to spitball and find the next turn for the story to take. You’re all lovely friends to have, and when I think of the people who’ve helped this story along the way, you’re the first people that come to mind.

@galaxialuz , @mads-weasley , and @the-cinnamontography-is-amazing : my serial rebloggers / commenters , everytime you all comment on the story or reblog I gain ten years of life. Your reactions are some of the ones I look forward to the most. Seriously, eternally grateful to know how much you love the story, and to those of you who may comment on AO3 who’s users I simply don’t have : this is an acknowledgment for you too! Comments and RBs make the world go around and I’m so thankful for all of mine <3

@almost-a-class-act , @cody-helix02 , @wexhappyxfew , @derry-rain , @shoshiwrites , and @we-band-of-brothers : For letting me bang my pot and my pan, senselessly and loudly, about anything and everything that has to do with this fic of mine. I come strolling into messages going “GUYS BUT DAISY!!!!” and to be met with the same enthusiasm is a really lovely thing. Seriously, for someone who’s been told to, ahem, be quiet about their OCs several times, knowing that I have people who will listen whether it’s an AU I had in mind, a chapter I finished, or mindless rambling is such a gift.

And I am thanking you, person reading this post, for making it this far! Whether you’re a passive reader or one commenting on every chapter or just someone who happened upon this particular post, thanks for giving my words the time of day!

All of this to say: thank you for the support, thank you for the community you’ve let me into, thank you for every bookmark, and like, and reblog, and message. thank you to my anonymous pals and known ones alike — thank you for showing this story the support and love that you have. SBT isn’t perfect, but it is mine, and I’m proud of it, and it means the world to know that something I have created and put into the world is very very loved.

#poet’s gallery #. sbt gallery #poe’s pals #. sbt’s one year #band of brothers

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dragonfly0808 · 11 months

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How did you decide on who to pair with who with the platonic soul mates ? I find it interesting that in cannon they never spoken to each other but they for so perfectly in your rewrite.

OMG I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR A QUESTION LIKE THIS FFUUUUUCCCCKKKK

Kay, so, the first one that was chosen was Flora and Riven.

I’ve always headcannoned that they would be besties. Just, soft girl and rough around the edges boy always make the best platonic dynamics and they’re 2 of my faves and I just thought that it would make sense for Riven to connect with Flora before any of the other girls

They both have very rough pasts but had very different responses (partially because Flora always had a support system in her family and Riven didn’t) they can bond over crappy parents and very rough situations. In a friendship group filled with royals and loving families, they are the ones who had both economic and family problems, they can relate to each other in a way that only few could

They’re biggest problems at the start of the rewrite also made them besties. Riven needs to learn to open up and be vulnerable, who better to teach him than Flora? Flora needs to learn to stand up for herself a little more, who better to teach her than Riven?

They were the easiest choice when it came to platonic soulmates.

Next chosen were Stella and Sky

Their friendship began with my choice to make Erendor, Radius and Oritel best friends. It made sense to have Stella and Sky know each other since childhood, that, combined with Stella knowing about the switcharoo created a dynamic between Stella, Brandon and Sky and from there, came the dynamic between Stella and Sky

They’ve known each other their whole lives, they bond over the pressures of being royals and struggling to communicate with their parents.

They were also both pressured into acting mature (Stella by her mom, Sky by both his parents) so it makes sense that, when together, they feel safe enough to just be goofy with each other and act like the teens that they really are.

I loved this dynamic of childhood friends bonding over the fear of growing up and having to carry more responsabilities every year but also bonding over their insane sense of duty to their respective planets.

Next came a happy accident Bloom and Timmy

Bloom and Timmy being platonic soulmates was not planned. I was writing Tecna’s birthday scene in s1 and wrote Timmy playing a car game, since Tecna was having a conversation, I wrote Bloom to be the one playing against him since I felt like those 2 would be the most intense when playing videogames, teasing and trying to kick each other to win.

That’s when it kinda clicked in my head like… wait a minute… they’re both huge nerds… huh

And that’s how they became platonic soulmates because as a fellow nerd I know that nerd friendships don’t necessarily require similar interests, just equal levels of enthusiasm when talking about said interests

Bloom is a nerd about mythology and history, Timmy is a nerd about technology and figthing technique. They bond over being able to info-dump all they want to one another and having similar levels of enthusiasm. They’re also both introverts who only become extroverts either with the extroverts that adopted them (Stella and Nabu/Brandon) or when talking to each other or about their interest

This was when the rest of the platonic soulmates were decided right as I was wrapping up s1, I knew what the last few platonic soulmates would be

Musa and Helia

She was punk, he did ballet. That’s it. That’s their dynamic

Kay so, Musa and Helia are the writers of the group. They’re not the only artists, but they’re the writers and the ones who’re the most verbal about their art if that makes sense.

They both also have a darker side that they try to keep railed in. They both have frequent nightmares and are the ones who’ve dealt with depression the most throughout their lives

I don’t want to say that they’re ‘tortured artists’ but they can bond over only being able to word certain feelings through songs and poetry. They can bond over having a knot in their throat that they’re working to get rid off that vanishes the second they have a pen in their hand

They’re the ones that have too much to say but don’t always know how to say it. How to get it out. It made sense to pair them together

Next up, Aisha and Brandon

Brandon is one of the softest of the squad. He just radiates comfort and warmth and is a protector at his core. Aisha, especially at first, really needed someone like that (aside from Flora).

Brandon really helps Aisha come out of her shell. They’re both extroverts but Aisha has a lot of social anxiety, the girls and Brandon help her out with that a lot.

They also bond over sports. They both loving pushing themselves to the limit. They bond over skateboarding, surfing, rock climbing, swimming, anything that gets them out and tired.

Aisha is also one of the few people that can get it through Brandon’s head that he doesn’t always have to be the protector. That that’s not all there is to him. That he deserves to also be protected from time to time.

Finally… Tecna and Nabu

I don’t think I can fully explain the bond between these two… these two are… comfortable silence

They are both very calm but… light… at the same time if that makes sense?

They just give me that vibe of someone that you met and just click with. They live in similar wavelengths and have similar mentalities

Tecna is compelled to trust Nabu due to his energy and the way he just… gets her effortlessly. Nabu adores Tecna because of how unapolagetic she is

They are people who just enjoy each others mere presence, they don’t try to get each other out of their comfort zones. They’ll be drinking coffee and having breakfast while casually talking and working on projects and feel so at peace just by being around each other, they have that kind of effortless yet beautiful friendship

Hope these explanations were enough to give a little peak into my thought process of choosing the platonic soulmates!

#winx club #winx rewrite #winx #winx headcannon #winx fanfic #winx headcanons #winx friendships #winx headcannons #winx friendship #winx headcanon #winx club rewrite

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joyfuldeepend · 5 months

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Consideration

R and I were out to dinner last week. She had never had Red Lobster and somehow convinced me to take her (doesn’t take much bc she’s usually pretty sweet when it’s just the two of us). Red lobster in general isn’t much to write home about and typically when you go there you know that. Well R had never been to Red lobster and saw something on tik tok so there we were.

The dining experience left a lot to be desired but you don’t go to a chain like that (or shouldn’t) expecting to be blown away. So that was a learning experience for R who loves hibachi buffet and seafood boils. So we worked through expectations and comparing what we want versus what we get.

There was what appeared to be a double date happening one row over (2 Caucasian teenage couples, assuming seniors). Normally I am aware of those around but not typically dialed into the situation. The boys in the situation were determined to ensure everyone knew theirs. They made loud comments about how they should have gone to outback or Texas Roadhouse. The were verbally frustrated at the service and the way their food came after grilling the server about the menu and how the things were made or tasted.

When their food came they made the server stand there while they both saw if their steak was medium. Then continued the grumbling and disgust while the girls giggled. It was annoying and close to closing time so not many ppl to drown out their outbursts. R & I continued our eating and convos despite their interruptions. At one point I made R laugh and she started choking and laughing…and if you’ve met R she’s either quiet and moody or loud and silly. This was a loud and silly night. As a general rule I try not to censor her if it’s not inappropriate behavior. Side note: she has adhd and has a ton of intrusive thoughts and doesn’t get to verbalize a ton. When she’s with me not a lot embarrasses me so I let her get it all out so she does her “good behavior” aka be quiet and not seen stuff when with others. Well she was laughing loud (as many do) and then making choking sounds (don’t worry she was ok) and one of the boys started mocking her. Just as I was starting to speak up, R stopped laughing and told them to basically shut up or she’d beat them up 😂😂 I squashed that quickly and R and I talked about how it wasn’t worth it and how they had to live the consequences of their poor behavior. She thought for a moment and said “you’re right Joy…see that’s why I don’t like white people (not you Joy) but people like that.”…. It was tough not to agree with that sentiment as I watched those teenagers be entitled, rude and have zero consideration for the servers, the fellow diners or even how they were acting. I ended up saying something to my server and ensuring that table’s servers tip was covered.

While I’ve always known that I like when things are in harmony and people get along, what I can’t get behind is not saying something bc it makes things uncomfortable. I learned lately that when myself or others are not considered it makes my blood boil. Doesn’t matter the why, it matters the intent. Just bc someone is having a bad day doesn’t mean they get to take it out on someone. If someone can’t afford something, being mean to people to give a reason for why their bill should be comped isn’t right (in my opinion). I remember some years ago a friend at the time told me that hurt ppl hurt ppl as an explanation for their behavior towards me. I countered that that phrase is an explanation for those who’ve been hurt by that not an excuse to act in poor behavior due to hurt.

R and I drove home in silence and even 24 hours and it still stuck with me. My dad drilled into us about how to treat wait staff and delivery people. And also that creating safe space for others to belong was foundational as Jesus followers. When I experience people without regard for that it does something in me. I’ve asked myself if I should have been more vocal, there are about 10 tongue lashing stories I have in my head for the scenario. Or did I respond the right way. What is the point that takes us from bystander to advocate or to action. I don’t know what the point is, but I walked away disappointed in those teens and also how they represented themselves and my culture to others. We are all representing more than ourselves in every situation and sometimes it is hard to keep that in mind. What I do know is it doesn’t take much to be kind and have consideration for others. Thanks for joining me in the deep end today. May you give and receive consideration this season!

#mylife #tumblr #blog #joyfuldeepend #blogpost #myloves #dowhatisrightnotwhatiseasy #createwhatyoucrave #fostercareflow

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fionacle · 7 months

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This is the final shortened college essay btw

I couldn’t tell you the first time it happened, most things before high school are a blur, but I’ve often heard others called “special”.

Special things are supposed to be important and unique, a high compliment to something that matters a lot. But here it’s condescending. Like this is the core of the person being spoken about, and that core is taboo. Like it’s pity for an illness, or warning of danger. They say the word as though describing a creature, some animal of lesser mind.

“I’m proud of you for being friends with him.” “Why?” “Oh, you know, he’s special.”

To speak with one of ‘them’ is a sacrificial act rather than basic human decency.

I love being praised. More than anything else in the world. I need to know I matter, to feel skilled and important, the good special. I want adoring fans, to make a difference in their lives. I want to be talked about as someone cool, someone worthy of awe and respect, maybe even envy. I want everyone I meet to be so earnest about liking me that it forces out any thought that I’m not worth their time. But when I’m praised for something like this I feel dirty. I always try to be the hero, but I can’t do that here. If I accept this praise it means I agree that I had to do something significant and difficult. It means that my friend is just a challenge I beat. So, not only would I be lying, I’d also be insulting my friend.

The word itself isn’t that important to me, I don’t hold any affection for it, but I’m upset that it dehumanizes others, and mostly I’m upset that it dehumanizes me.

When I go into testing rooms, I’ve been to quite a few, they present games to test my brain. It’s an awful way for me to show my symptoms. I do the best I can because it’s fun and I want to show off. I tend not to have “off” days when I visit them, especially because I’m rarely around triggers. They don’t see me cry from the lunch man taking my apple juice cap. They don’t see me flailing around from hearing someone chew gum. They don’t hear my autistic friends telling me how my experiences match theirs to an alarming degree. I need them to see my tears in action. I need to take my memories out of my brain and show them. They need to know everything I’ve done and they need to put a word to it and let me tell people.

Then, maybe, they won’t tell me to stop. To stop being too weird. Stop being too emotional. Stop being afraid of things no one else cares about. Stop “misidentifying” emotions. To just be normal. Because no matter how much they want me to be, I'm not. It never will be. I cannot be. I’m not normal.

“Stop doing that or they’ll think you’re special.”

If neither normal or special are options, what else do you want me to be?

People I’ve known for a year can see it. Why can’t you, who’ve known me my whole life? Don’t make that face when I bring this up, don’t tell me I’m copying my friends, don’t tell me my friends are weak. They are not weak, and neither am I when I act like them.

I want nothing more in life than to be special, the good kind. But I think they ought to know me as “bad” special, because then at least they’d know me.

#college essay

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silly-mode-cilia · 2 years

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gender rant

If you read this you read the whole damn thing. I think it’s a good read so I recommend but you don’t have to, but again, whole damn thing.

i wish people stopped assuming I'm trans just because I use she/he. Yes I am cis, yes I am also genderfluid and genderqueer. I've thought about it a LOT and reached this conclusion when I first started using she/he over a year ago (nearly two years now I think?), always told myself if i stopped resonating with being cis that’s okay, and it hasn't changed. And that doesn't make me less valid!! People keep saying pronouns don't equal gender, so fucking act like it for fucks sake.

I fully identify with my assigned gender at birth, as a woman (in some fucking variation), and for people to assume I don't after hearing my pronouns is /understandable/ but not everyone who seems like they /could/ fall under the trans umbrella feels like that works for them. Just because I am also some guy, at times, does not mean I'm not a woman. My gender and sexuality intersect so much and for me to try and simplify that is just. Here is the simplified version: somedays, gender is butch dyke. somedays, gay dude. Somedays bisexual and bigender. Somedays even straight girl! Somedays I don’t know! Everyday I am bi, regardless of the gender. And there are infinite fucking possibilities which is why genderfluid and genderqueer are my fucking beloveds.

Just when I have to keep going "haha I'm cis actually" and remind people,, like I love being around so many queer people and love my friends so much but I really don't want people to have this perception of me as trans. Because I'm not, and I don't know what that's like. Even people who've known me for ages, I don't think anyone gets it at all. It feels like half my friends are waiting for my nonexistent egg to crack and like it's not happening babes. I'm not an egg. I'm not trans. My full name is not a deadname, it’s my name and I like it. I'm so tired having to explain something so personal for twenty minutes and getting nowhere and people assuming I don't know myself, that I’m just a confused young clueless queer.

Meeting new people and saying oh yeah I use she/he, and sometimes refer to myself using they/them but other people can't use they/them for me is like. It goes from people assuming I'm Very Cis because of how I look and dress to assuming I'm trans, and both are wrong. They have questions they're too polite to ask but it's on their face, especially if I say I'm cis. The face starts out, prior to hearing my pronouns, as “oh another cis white gay girl, great, she won’t get me at all.” It then goes to “oh trans! okay, cool, you don’t look trans though.” to confusion. to what the fuck do you mean, that’s not a thing. I'm cis. I'm queer. I love my gender stuff. I just wish it wasn't such a deal in queer spaces. My entire opinion on labels is "labels are tools for yourself to use as you see fit" and "people determine their own labels and can change them whenever they want." People have different interpretations of labels (I doubt my individual interpretation of what it would mean to myself for me to identify as trans is the same as other people’s) and that’s fine! Someone could be like me and use trans as a label, and have that make them happy, and that's okay! But it isn't for me. I feel like people are trying to put me in a box one way or another anytime gender is brought up. I understand the many reasons for cis and trans to be used and the importance of the term trans to so so many lovely people, but sometimes it feels like another binary where all I am is wrong.

The worst part about this is that extremely rarely, for a day or so, I vibe with trans AS WELL AS cis. But why would I say that to fucking anyone when the takeaway in their head is "oh so you are trans you just have internalized transphobia." No one would think the AND CIS part means anything, it would just get wiped away. Who cares if this “aw hell yeah double barrel gender day” is a rare thing for me to have happen. Crack, egg, let me hit you against the pan. This is very personal to me and for people to think that my identity I've thought about for an immeasurable amount of time at this point is internalized bullshit feels so insulting and demeaning and alienating. It dismisses all the work I've done with coming to terms about the various parts of my identity, and learning about myself, and reading soooo many damn books. I put a lot of time and work into loving myself wholeheartedly and it's something I'm very proud of myself for. And I don't take these things lightly. I do not take labels lightly, use them lightly, and much less tell people I use them lightly. They are important to me. I have never used a label and become certain of it without at least half a year of constantly thinking about and considering and imagining it at minimum. I still regularly think over and reexamine how I label myself all the fucking time. All. The. Fucking. Time. With everything, with bi with ace with genderfluid with my pronouns with genderqueer with everything. That has been happening in some amount since at least 2017 on a daily basis. That is a lot of my fucking life questioning and exploring to understand myself and find ways to explain myself to others, because I want to share this with people, because I think it’s beautiful. I similarly did not decide I don’t resonate with being referred to as trans lightly, and still regularly check in with myself if that has changed, because things do change over time sometimes. And it hasn’t changed, and frankly I strongly doubt it will. And I just want that work I’ve done to be recognized and fucking respected, at least in queer spaces, where it's supposed to be respected and understood more than anywhere.

**NOTE in case this somehow is read by people I don’t know personally: if you read this in bad faith and assume I am transmedicalist or transphobic or god-forbid somehow a terf there is a severe miscommunication! Someone not resonating with a label you think they should use is not transphobic, and stop policing their label use. Someone being pissed off and tired about incorrect assumptions being made, repeatedly, especially in spaces for those in-between nowhere identities and experiences, is allowed to express that. If you are someone I actually know and think there is an legitimate issue in this please, really and truly please tell me because I cannot find it. Otherwise I am tired. And I am going to go give myself a shower now.

#mems yells #gender #you don't have to understand me but stop acting like you know me better than I know myself #I'm so tired #people stop assuming anything about my gender challenge #because you're definitely wrong about something #if not most things #gender minifesto #im glad i wrote this #required reading to know me

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mister-supernova · 3 years

Text

Trust In Me

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader

“You’re joking. You’re telling me, ME,--your oh so dearest best friend in this universe--that you’re not going to help us play against the Timberwolves even though you’re a freaking tribrid? You have all the powerups you can get and you’re choosing not to use them! What kind of madness is that, Marshall?”

“Professor Saltzman doesn’t let any of you use your abilities anyways, so there’s no real point in me helping the team, is there?”

You feel your eyes roll so far back you're surprised they didn’t fall out, “Come on! Do you have any idea what kind of badass duo we’d be out there?”

“Nope and I don’t intend on finding-”

“We’d be unstoppable! Those asshat Timberwolves won’t know what hit them on that field! You have to play at least one game while you’re at school here! Please!”

Hope responds to your argument with silence and a look on her face that you clearly read as, I’m not playing no matter how much you beg.

You knew there wasn’t any way of getting through to her thick skin, so you accepted your defeat. “Okay, fine,” you huff, taking a seat right next to Hope at the edge of your bed, “You’re still going to cheer me on though, right? I mean, it’s the least you could do.”

She takes an agonizingly long time thinking of her answer while looking at the hopeful ‘puppy dog’ look in your eyes. The longer she took, the bigger you made your eyes which eventually broke Hope into giving you a heartwarming smile, “Yes, I’ll be silently cheering you on.”

You smile back, “That’s all I need, Marshall.”

The alarm tone from your phone jolts you awake from another one of your vivid dreams. After meeting Hope outside the Grill the other night, your dreams have become more realistic than ever before.

They’re almost beginning to feel too real. Maybe the clarification of you knowing Hope is real influenced your brain into putting her into more lifelike dream scenarios.

It didn’t surprise you that the topic of conversation in the dream was about the annual Stallions versus Timberwolves game since it’s happening today. Even though your team has been notorious for losing on purpose every single year, you still liked the not-so-friendly competition between the rival schools.

At this morning's assembly, you were happy to hear your new headmaster’s announcement about banning the ‘throw the game’ rule. Josie seemed to be the only teammate who was hesitant about the sudden change, but everyone else was ecstatic.

The thing that threw you off the most during the assembly was Vardamus assigning Landon as the quarterback. See, you loved the guy and he’s one of your good friends here at the school, but you know damn well that his athletic ability is as good as a decapitated zombie--on either half--and even that was saying much.

You weren’t just saying this to bash on your friend because he was proving your analysis of him correct on the field as the team was warming up. You and Josie were helplessly trying to help him catch the ball after a snap.

Thankfully she has more patience with Landon than you because at this rate it didn’t look like you guys were winning this game either.

“Sorry. Foster care didn’t have a football team.” Landon grumbles after having the ball bounce off his chest.

“At least you didn’t let it hit you in the face this time,” you shrug, earning a searing glare from Josie, “I’ll go warm up over here now.”

You quickly excused yourself and ended up jogging over to Lizzie who was sitting on the bench with a stack of books by her side. First, Landon is your quarterback for the day and now you see Lizzie reading right now instead of warming up.

“What’s going on here? I thought you’d be pissed at Vardamus for giving Landon your QB spot.”

“I’m on a different kind of mission today, Y/n,” she says as you watch her flip through a book of monsters and that gives you the information you needed to know what this was about.

Coincidentally enough, Lizzie also met a new and mysterious stranger the same day you met Hope. The two of you bonded for the past few days over your slightly similar situations which you felt was very weird but also kind of cool.

“There’s no way Sebastian is like us and I’m determined to figure out just what he is.”

“And you couldn’t do this--hm, I don’t know--after the game today?” You ask in urgency for her to play today, “I mean, seriously Lizzie, this could be huge for us.”

“What’s wrong with Landon being your QB?”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Are you kidding? Just look at him!”

The both of you direct your attention to Landon on the field as Josie hands him the football. You prepare yourself for disaster as he winds his arm back, but then you find yourself proven wrong as you watch the distance the ball was being thrown. It seemed to soar through the sky for what felt like hours before bouncing off of a window from the Timberwolves’ bus.

“Looks like he has the magic touch now,” Lizzie says knowingly before returning to her book while you continue to stare at the bus in shock.

Right before you decided it was the best time to look away, a familiar someone seems to catch your eye instead. Walking down the steps of your rival school’s bus was none other than Hope Marshall.

“No way,” you muttered to yourself, unsure if you should be happy to see her again or concerned that she’s on the team you’re playing against.

Absentmindedly, you slowly started drifting away from your spot by Lizzie and felt yourself being pulled in Hope’s direction. You had to get closer to clarify that she was who you were seeing and not some sick mirage you’ve created in your brain.

“L/n!” Dorian jumps in front of you, breaking your trance and blocking your path towards the opposing team, “Save any trash talk for the game. I don’t need you picking a fight with the other players before we even start.”

You had built yourself a reputation for these annual games and were known for getting kicked out due to foul plays off the field, “But Mr. Williams I was just-”

“That’s Coach Williams today, L/n. Back to your side. Go on!” He rushes you away and though you are strong enough to push past him, you’d rather play then be a benchwarmer for the rest of the day.

An annoyed growl rumbles in the back of your throat as you try to catch one more glimpse of Hope, but you were blocked by Dorian’s clipboard.

Josie can clearly see the longing anticipation in your eyes as you join your team’s side of the field. You looked like a lost kid in a mall looking for their parents, “Everything okay, Y/n?”

“Do you remember those drawings from my sketchbook this summer? The ones of that girl, but all you can really see are her eyes and hair?” You ask her in a hushed voice.

She nods, “Yeah, the one you said you’ve been seeing in your dreams.”

“Okay, well I met her the night of our first day back at school. She’s real and she’s here with the Timberwolves,” Josie furrows her eyebrows at you.

“So you met her before your dreams?”

“No. That’s the thing, I’ve never seen her in town before the other night and after all my dreams. I know for damn sure that I’d remember her being on our rival school’s football team given how many times I’ve tried kicking their asses every year.”

“Maybe she’s a new student this year? You very well could’ve seen her at the Grill this summer without even realizing it. Our brains only need to see a face once for them to show up in our dreams.”

“Josie, I swear on everything in my life that it’s-”

The referee’s whistle rings your ears as he calls for everyone’s attention, “Stallions! Timberwolves! Both teams meet in the middle for the coin toss!”

You and Josie sigh knowing that you’d have to put a pin in this conversation, “You ready?” She asks.

You nod, doing a few quick stretches since you didn’t get a lot of warm up time and to prepare yourself for seeing Hope again, “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

A wave of excitement filled your chest as you walked with Josie towards the middle of the field. The bashful smile on your face was hard to contain once your eyes landed back on Hope who you could clarify was very much real and very much here in front of you once more.

“Oh, wow,” Josie mutters with surprise from beside you.

“I told you I liked my chances, Marshall,” you smirk, gaining a small tight lipped smile from Hope in return.

“I guess today was your lucky day, then. Not for long, though,” she challenged, playfully squinting her eyes at you.

You lean your body slightly forward with a confident grin, “We’ll see about that.”

Your teammates share a confused look at the interaction they were witnessing between you two. “I see you’re... familiar with each other,” Hope’s teammate chimes in.

With a shrug you say, “We’re practically married. Isn’t that right, Marshall?”

Hope shakes her head at you, biting her lip to keep her mouth shut long enough for Vardamus to stand between your two teams and break your friendly banter.

With a little sprinkle of magic from Josie, your team won the coin toss with ease so the Stallions would be receiving the ball at the start.

“Okay, what was that?” Josie asks as the two of you walk back to your side of the field.

“What? Did you want me to call heads instead?”

“No! Not that. You and that girl.”

“I told you we met the other night,” you shrug, “and her name is Hope for your information.”

“That was not an interaction from two people who’ve only had one conversation, Y/n. Not to mention she really does look like the girl from your drawings. Are you sure you haven’t met before?”

“That’s what I was telling you and yes, I’m positive that I’ve never interacted with her prior to the other night. You think that if I hadn’t seen or met her at the Grill during the summer that we wouldn’t be best friends by now?”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me! I know you’re labeled as the social butterfly and all, but that must’ve been some long conversation if that’s how you’re acting around each other.”

You pause to think about it for a moment, “Actually it was only about ten minutes.”

“WHAT?!”

The conversation was cut short by the sound of the ref’s whistle signaling you all to line up for kickoff. You jog away to your position before Josie can interrogate you any longer and wait for the game to begin.

Stallions were able to use magic to their advantage and gain points within the first play which was something you never thought you’d see during your time here. As everyone repositions into defense, you notice that Hope is the quarterback for the Timberwolves.

“Okay, Y/n. I’m about to suggest something you may or may not like,” Josie says from next to you.

“Don’t worry, I got the QB,” you grin, gaining Hope’s attention. She notices the mischievous look in your eyes and almost looks as if she knows what you’re up to, making her a little nervous.

“Like it is, I guess,” Jo huffs.

Once the football reached Hope’s hands, you made a b-line towards her, quick to avoid any other players who were blocking your way. Careful not to crush her during the fall, you took Hope by the waist and spun the both of you to the ground.

Your tackle didn’t do much good given that she was still able to pass the ball. Whether it got to her teammate or not you weren’t too sure of at the moment because Hope’s body was literally tangled with yours.

With her one hand against your chest and the other keeping her propped up on the grass, Hope’s face was almost an inch away from you. Feeling her breathing heavily on your face, you oddly felt like you’ve been in this exact position before.

“Bet you enjoyed doing that, huh?” Hope speaks up, getting you to huff out a chuckle.

“Well it wasn’t the preferred way I wanted to take you out, per say, but a little bit, yeah,” you smile, getting her to laugh in return.

Being in this position with someone you’ve talked to so briefly should feel awkward, but for whatever reason it just felt right. If it weren’t for the fact that you were playing in a football match, you’d probably want to stay like this for a while longer.

Suddenly, Hope’s eyes widen as she quickly rolls off you and begins wincing in pain while grabbing at her ankle.

“Are you okay?” You ask while sitting up.

“Ah, I don’t know. I-I think it’s sprained,” she lightly groans, scrunching up her face.

“Shit, Marshall. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I-” you shake your head, pushing yourself to your feet before reaching out to help Hope up, “here, I can help take you to the nurse if you want.”

“It’s okay. I can find it,” she shakes her head and she takes note of the worried look in your eye knowing that you had hurt her, “Hey, seriously Y/n, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.” Hope squeezes your arm and gives you a reassuring look before limping off the field.

You watched as she walked away, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. You were sure that you were careful while pulling her to the ground. Hope didn’t seem to be in any sort of pain for the first few seconds after tackling her.

“You know she faked her injury right?” Josie pops in out of nowhere, making your heart nearly burst out of your chest.

“Jesus, Jo,” you take a deep breath before taking in her inquisition, “And you think so?”

“Yeah and I don’t know why, but maybe you should keep an eye on her.”

“Why? Do you think she’ll steal some snacks from the kitchen?” You jokingly ask.

“Well, you started having dreams of her after Malivore was destroyed and now she seems to be oddly gravitated to this town and our school. I’m just saying that you should be a little more careful about trusting her so fast.”

Though you haven’t felt anything off-putting about Hope, Josie had an annoyingly excellent point. “I guess I’m on watch duty, then. Find a sub for me.”

It was shocking to see that Hope had gotten so far ahead of you that you weren’t even in running distance from her. Oddly fishy for someone who just sprained their ankle. Even as you walked into the school, there was no sign of her in the halls or the nurse’s office.

There was one thing that stuck out--a familiar scent that you had smelled in that vacant dorm room this summer. Only this time it was a lot stronger than when you first caught it.

Out of curiosity, you followed the smell just to see if it would lead you anywhere. Crazily enough, it didn’t take you to the vacant room like you thought it would, but to Landon and Raf’s dorm room instead.

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers when you see Hope sitting cross-legged in front of a map that she was currently dripping her own blood onto.

“Hope?”

She quickly turns around and stands, startled by the sound of your voice, “Y/n! Uh, I um, this isn’t what it--”

“Isn’t what it looks like? Right. Well, it looks like you faked an injury to sneak into the school. It looks like you forgot to mention you were a witch the other night. It also looks like you’re doing a locator spell in my missing friend’s room.”

Hope remains silent for a couple of seconds, almost taken back by the passive way you were speaking to her, “Okay, maybe it’s exactly what it looks like.”

You huff out a sigh in disbelief, letting Josie’s suspicions about Hope sink into your head now.

“I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else here, Y/n. I promise, I’m trying to help. Dr. Saltzman asked me to do a locator spell on Rafael so that I can help him return to his human form.”

You give her a questioning look, “We’ve been looking for a way to turn him back for months now. What makes you think you can?”

“Because I know more about the Crescent Wolf Clan than anyone else here.”

You raise a brow, “That wolf pack in New Orleans? If you know so much about it, wouldn’t that make you a…” then the realization sets in.

Hope sees that you’re still skeptical, “Look, I can’t explain everything right now, but I really need you to trust me, Y/n.”

Most of the context clues told you that trusting someone you’ve only known for less than a day was a terrible, terrible idea, but your heart wouldn’t let you believe that.

As much as you shouldn’t, you trusted Hope more than anything.

You exhale, “Okay, Marshall. I’m trusting you. Is there anything you need me to do?”

Hope gives you a grateful smile, “Keep an eye on Landon. There’s a werewolf-eating monster out in the woods and I have no idea if it will be after him, too,” she says, walking past you and into the hallway.

Again, you’re confused with even more new information, “Wait, there’s a what in the woods? And how do you know the monster would be after Landon?” Hope ignores your questions, continuing to speed walk in front of you, “Marshall!”

A lot of events took place within the next couple of hours. You did as Hope asked and watched Landon back at the game which seemed pretty boring at first.

Josie took you by surprise as you witnessed her break another player’s arm with a spell mid-play, but to be fair it didn’t look like she realized what she was doing until the damage was done.

If that wasn't physically violent enough, there was a huge mosh fight between both schools after the game was over. You tried getting out of the crossfire because the last thing you needed was detention for being involved in something you didn’t mean to be a part of.

That didn’t go as planned seeing as one of the Timberwolves was able to punch a mean hook on your right cheek before you could scramble out of there. Most of the redness faded by the end of the night, but it was still a little sore whenever you poked at it.

Hope was able to return Raf back to his human form just like she said she would. He explained how this “mysterious girl” saved his life then you and your friends gave him a warm welcome back to humanity.

After cleaning yourself up, you snuck out of the school’s building to find Hope sitting out at one of the piers where she told you to meet her before parting ways earlier.

You could tell she had cleaned up as well judging by the change of clothes and seeing that her hair was no longer tied up in braids, but now flowing down over her shoulders.

“Well, today was eventful, huh?” You speak up, groaning as you take a seat next to her.

“Oh, my God. Y/n, your face!” Hope exclaims.

“You know you can just call me ugly, Marshall. There’s no need for you to act all aghast about it.” You tease.

“No, I mean the gash on your cheek.” She reaches for your face to observe your wound more clearly.

You let her lightly trace along the edge of the bump, almost unfazed by the contact, “Oh right, that.”

“What kind of altercation did you get yourself into?”

You scoff, looking more hurt by the question rather than the punch to your face, “Bold of you to assume it was me who initiated the altercation, Marshall.”

“Well, you just seem like the type is all.” She looks at you with a teasing look in her eyes.

“What a kind and accurate assumption you have of me there, but for the record I wasn’t the one who started the fight. Everyone just started going at each other after the game and I got caught in the crossfire.”

There’s a very noticeable shift in Hope’s mood and you can tell that she was genuinely worried about you getting hurt. All she could think about was the last time you were caught in the crossfire and how it nearly cost you your life. You didn’t know that, of course, but you felt the need to reassure her.

“You’re cute when you’re worried, Marshall, but I’m fine. I promise, a punch to the face is like a slap on the wrist. You should know the healing process is quite fast for a werewolf.” You give her a knowing look.

Hope’s eyes widen in realization, making her finally pull her hand away from your face. “You caught onto that, huh?”

“I figured it out once you mentioned the Crescent Wolves. Raf only confirmed it when he explained how this mysterious werewitch saved his life,” Hope looks down at her lap looking like a kid who got caught in a lie, “Thank you, by the way. For bringing my friend back.”

She meets your gaze again, giving you a tight lipped smile, “You’re welcome.”

“You know it’s too bad you didn’t have me helping you out there. Given that we’ve got a pretty good thing going on here, we could’ve made a badass team.”

“You got punched in the face by a human. How do you think you would’ve stood against a monster that actively wanted to kill you?”

“That’s the whole point of being a team. One runs around failing miserably while the other pulls the weight.”

Hope scrunches her eyebrows together, “That’s literally not what being a team is supposed to be like at all.”

“Seriously?” You ask cluelessly, “Damn, well I guess I’ve been doing it wrong all this time.”

She laughs and for the first time you notice the way her eyes squint together when she really lets herself smile. It sparked a feeling in you that you hadn’t felt before.

“You’re just full of surprises today, aren’t you, Marshall?” You speak up in a playful tone, lightly bumping her shoulder, “Has our 24-hour friendship meant nothing to you? I mean, seriously, how could you not tell me you were a hybrid?”

Hope gives you an appalled scoff, “You didn’t tell me you were a werewolf. Looks like we both hid something from each other last night.”

You stare at her for a second, squinting your eyes as you analyze her, “Hmm. Touche, Marshall.”

She lets out another laugh and this time you swear you can feel your heart begin to grow.

Gosh, she’s really beautiful.

You wished you could say the words aloud. Part of you was surprised that you couldn’t given how bold you’ve been with Hope regardless of the little amount of time you’ve known her.

As much as you wanted to make some sort of move now, you felt you had to draw the line somewhere.

“Y/n, you’re staring.” Hope tells you in a voice that was just above a whisper.

You blink yourself back to reality, “Sorry,” you say with your voice just as hushed, “It’s just that… I think…” For the first time in your life you have no idea what to say. No witty comment or dumb remark.

You searched her deep blue eyes for an answer you couldn’t find. If anything you felt even more lost the longer you looked into them.

I really want to kiss you right now. Your mouth was open, but no words were willing to come out.

For a second you swore you saw Hope begin to lean forward, but the moment ended rather abruptly thanks to your cell phone ringer.

“Jesus,” you flinch yourself back into reality once again before picking up the phone, “Hello?”

“Y/n, where the hell are you? Vardamus has done a room check twice now and says you haven’t been answering your door.” Lizzie frantically asks you.

“I’ll be there in a second. Just cover for me if he’s still lurking in the halls and tell him I’m knocked out from today’s game.”

“Fine, just hurry your ass up!” She whisper-shouts before hanging up.

You let out a deep and exaggerated sigh, “Well, fun’s over, Marshall,” you grin sadly, “It’s pumpkin time.”

She returns a soft smile back at you, “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I’ll only say goodbye if it means we’re gonna say hello again,” you tell her as you rise to your feet.

“Well, then let's not say goodbye,” she says while you help her up, “Maybe if we just say goodnight instead, that's gotta mean we'll see each other again.”

You look down at her with a smirk, “That's all I need, Marshall.”

Hope rolls her eyes with a smile she couldn't contain. Just when you thought she’d walk away, she takes you by surprise as she presses a small kiss on your wounded cheek, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

You bite the sides of your cheeks to keep your smirk from turning into the goofiest looking smile you could possibly imagine, “Goodnight, Hope,” you say, finally turning back to make your way towards the school.

At this point, you couldn’t tell if the heat in your face was from the kiss or the punch.

taglist: @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch @sodangtired @idek-5

heyooo i know it's been a minute, but i hope you enjoyed this slightly longer chapter... again, i can't say how long it'll be until part 7 but i'll get to working on it as soon as possible! thanks for all your love and support for this series everyone, it really means a lot to me <3

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson imagine #legacies #legacies cw #legacies imagine #legacies x reader

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yoitscro · 3 years

Text

HOMESTUCK RAMBLE

The most troubling thing about the Sarah Z situation is that everything felt like damage control, tactical intimidation, and knee-jerked censorship. Right off the cuff of Hussie’s patreon message*.

(*Does anyone ever notice how Hussie only talks to the fandom when some kind of trouble eventually boils over, usually pointing a finger in one direction, versus addressing things earlier or addressing things period? Such as him having the power to speak against the actual anti queer jargon toward his employees prior to them leaving when things got worse? Or him mentioning the concerns of HS2 that people only found out through word of mouth and were reasonably upset about, such as them getting rid of the content warnings, or the fact that Hiveswap Act 2 was released without credits?

Would certainly make me less irritated if I didn’t know that that message is probably going to be one of his only few that he chooses to write and not mention other things, such as the returned antagonism toward fans.

But this is also the same guy who continues to write passive aggressive messages in his comic and game scripts that calls everyone else a loser for still being mad about the racism and ableism. (Seriously, Psycholonials is just a vague post in game form and it’s chaotic as fuck to do things like using riots (racially prominent a year ago) in the toned environment of 2020 as goofy plot points. I thought we were suppose to do BETTER after Skaia Net.)

Idc if he’s not apart of WP anymore. Even then, he certainly left a lot of baggage for other people to handle. It’s incredibly irresponsible.

Anyways.)

Those journals have existed forever. Whether right or wrong, they have. They’ve gone unaddressed despite being known for existing. A big name youtuber giving an auditory version that doesn’t take up all the video probably shouldn’t have been the reason that fans finally got some kind of answer, and it’s blatantly transparent that it was to protect the IP from having it’s name tarnished. As if Homestuck doesn’t already have issues that it refuses to acknowledge after a decade that everyone else has talked about.

I can imagine that some kind of NDA was keeping them from talking about Hiveswap to their kickstarter backers, but the convenience of that expiring once Sarah said something gives me an inkling that the people who’ve actually stuck around to support Homestuck could’ve heard sooner. Not to mention that before this big blowout, people just wanted to know that the game was being worked on period. There was actually no NDA preventing that communication.

People wonder why there’s such a rift between WP and the homestuck community, and it’s stuff like that. The fact that Hussie only comes down to address damage when it piles up to a breaking point, rather than earlier. The fact that if you have one criticism, friends or associates of the people who write their favorite characters will maul you in the name of whatever marginalized group they happen isolate you from.

And at the end of it all, it’s almost like some big, surface level moral, because no one cared 3 days after Sarah’s video. Everyone treated it like usual youtube commentary essays about troubling developments and moved on.

Instead, now, still, everyone cares about the fact that an opinion video about Homestuck was getting legal threats during 4/13. After years of a troubled relationship with it’s fandom, this was the last thing they needed to do. I’m trying to wrap my head around what the favorable outcome was here; to look GOOD?

I can’t even imagine what this stunt looks like to other studios and IP groups. I wonder if Homestuck is secretly blacklisted at this point because so much bad behavior has been normalized instead of having a healthy blend between criticism and sympathy.

BC again, a transphobic bigot sending death threats bc homestuck “isn’t what it use to be”, and responding to that rightfully, isn’t the same as someone thinking that more jarring post-canon content and execution of things like toblerone wishes suck some, and figureheads deciding to insult minors, stir character drama, and call other bulk criticisms from the queer community homophobic or transphobic. That in fact loses support, money, and causes infighting, actually.

I’ve never seen a fandom decline in stable activity as hard as 2019-2020 Homestuck.

This is the part where I say that my caliginous crush from wanting to see this IP improve itself flares up from time to time, but is starting to die down knowing that, unless there’s a massive overhaul on how things are run, things aren’t changing...seriously. There are things HS can do even without Viz Media’s overbearing presence, but it doesn’t want to. Starting a feud on your holiday wasn’t one of those things to do, maybe, actually.

I think it’s telling that it’s actually bad enough that I usually refrain from talking as much as I am now, because some part of me knows that some ex WP member, or a friend of one, is reading this and potentially sharing it in whatever snotty chat to once more emphasize how evil of a person I am for saying what everyone else is thinking, lmao.

I think that if anyone wants to pride themselves in not being “terminally online” and in fandom, they should refrain from putting their hands on a story that’s literally embedded and literally about it’s fandom. Go join a private discord instead, or try a different franchise. Maybe have some self awareness. Just a thought.

Anyways, the trust is tainted. The fallout has been followed by quiet, and the current members are reshaping the ground of this community before the weeds eventually rear their heads again.

#buzzcull #i should honestly just make a tag for long rambles like this #crojournal #that sounds terrible but.#someones gonna think im anti hs with this; nah im just saying it how it is.#again i dont have to kiss ass all the time and frankly i did that a lot in the pass. if i get accused as being a centrist #then i might as well speak one sided occasionally.#also again i have no reason to restrain myself and be nice about some who personally hurt me so :)

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ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her · 3 years

Text

On Family

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published

Previous Excerpt

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One question that I see asked in the news a lot is why there are still any ghouls left. We have a distinctive, high-impact feeding habit that requires us to stay within human society, where we are both outnumbered and outgunned. This has essentially been the case since the development of automatic firearms, and you’ve continued to develop more and more effective methods of killing us since then. How are we not extinct?

The talking heads always have lurid theories to propose. My personal favorite one, which comes up every couple of years or so, is that the government is secretly breeding us so that they have an excuse to send secret police out into the general populace for nefarious purposes pretending to be exterminators. As if they’d need the excuse {Editing Note: I’ve gotta keep my political views out of this except where they directly pertain to ghouls. No unnecessarily alienating people}. The most commonly accepted one seems to be that we just have a lot of children to compensate for our high mortality rate. Spatha calls that an R strategy, I think. Scarlet calls it the Rabbit Theory. Whatever you call it, it’s wrong. Our species has survived off the strength and compassion of our families.

Contrary to popular impressions, our “nuclear” families are pretty small. My understanding is that 1-4 children is the typical range. I’m the only confirmed only child in my friend group. Scarlet’s the youngest of three, Scorpio’s a middle child, Spatha avoids talking about her home life, and Kestrel doesn’t know her biological parents. There’s a couple of pressures that keep our family sizes small. First, it’s challenging to feed too many ghouls at once, especially ghoul children, who we don’t want worrying about where they’re going to get their meals. Second, the majority of ghoul parents are going to end up as single parents before their kids are fully grown. Either one of them is going to get killed, or they’re going to have to separate to go on the run from the exterminators; and, of course, we do still break up and get divorced sometimes.

These pressures are exaggerated by our general lack of an extended family. It’s not that all of our aunts and uncles get hunted down - even if they did, we’d still have cousins - but it’s not safe for us to have traceable extended families. When exterminators identify a ghoul, the first thing they do is put out a bulletin for all known blood relatives. The most common tactic to avoid this is, when multiple siblings make it to adulthood, at least one of them changes their identity and moves away. This isn’t always done, but it’s done often enough that document forging is a widespread and well-respected profession in the Society. It’s useful for dodging exterminators in other circumstances too. My mom and I changed our names and moved cities after exterminators killed my dad when I was 4.

Between that and the sheer number of out-and-out orphans in our Society, it should come as no surprise that we’ve developed a new family structure to fill in the gaps. The terminology we use for this structure is variable, but the term I’ve always used is “household”. A household is a sort of adopted extended family, typically formed by and centered around one particularly resourceful ghoul called a patron. The patron takes whichever ghouls they choose under their wing, introduces them to each other, and helps them coordinate their talents and resources so that they all have everything they need. Most obviously, this means making sure they all have a supply of flesh, but there are numerous other kinds of support a household can provide. I doubt I need to emphasize again how valuable a reliable source of companionship and safety is, but patrons typically have access to connections and contacts that can help the other members of the household accomplish their goals.

My household, for example, was founded by our patron Yaga. It consists of her, her adopted daughter Kestrel, my mom and I, my friends Scarlet and Scorpio and their immediate families, and four other older ghouls. There’s also Spatha, who has been reluctant to fully join the household but acts like a member in most contexts. Three of our members have reliable flesh sources, and Yaga coordinates with other ghouls to find supplementary sources to ensure that she always has a surplus on hand. This keeps all of us well-fed and lets her distribute the rest to those in need in exchange for favors and cachet that the rest of us can use for our own advancement. In turn, the rest of us pitch in for odd jobs here and there, mostly on flesh-gathering jobs of one kind or another, and we look out for each other. I’ve done a bit of babysitting with Kestrel, for example, and Yaga was able to get me and Scarlet summer jobs to save up for college.

Babysitting, by the way, is one of the most valuable services a household can provide to a ghoul parent. Given our mortality rate, it probably isn’t a surprise that there’s a good bit of cultural pressure to have children, and have them quick. Ghoul children are… a lot. When we’re newborn, we’re pretty much like human babies. Ghoul babies can nurse from ghoul mothers for awhile, which is a relief. They need to switch to flesh before their teeth come in, though, so that means flesh slurry, which is more complicated to make than you might think. For best results, you want a mix of blood, muscle tissue, organ tissue, and bone, especially marrow. We get better at pulling all our nutrients from just flesh as we mature, but babies aren’t as developed. Getting those varied tissues is a little more complicated than just getting flesh. Bone especially is challenging - more mature ghouls have no need for it, and it’s honestly kinda gross. You just have to hope that whoever you’re getting flesh from can start holding some bones for you. Not every source has easy access to bones.

{Editing Note: I think I wrote bone too many times - it looks fake now. Bone. Bone.}

We get our ghoul teeth at the same time as our baby teeth. Our ghoul teeth fall out and are replaced too, but we keep growing new ones our whole lives, kinda like sharks. Funnily enough, I don’t think we grow extra human teeth, which seems like a strange way for evolution to take us, but what do I know, I’m not a biologist. At that point we can start eating regular flesh, and parents have the unenviable task of explaining to toddlers that they can’t just slide their teeth out whenever they want. Our other features come in a bit later - claws between 4 and 6, eyes with puberty. Let me tell you, the claws hurt coming in. I couldn’t hold a pencil for a month. My mom told the elementary school that I was deathly sick so she could keep me home, but I think Scarlet just pretended he’d broken both his hands and went in splints. I don’t envy him - stretching my claws did a lot to relieve the pain.

I’ll admit freely that, by our standards, I had a pretty charmed childhood. I fit into human society pretty easily, I had a mom who loved me and could provide for me, a patron and household to help pick up the slack, and ghoul friends my own age. I had the discipline to keep my true nature hidden from my human peers, and I don’t think I was even particularly traumatized by the pressure of performing humanity that much. I can safely attribute that to the fact that I had safe spaces throughout my life to let the charade drop. Most ghouls at least have that. Most, but not all.

Our integration into human society also means that we inevitably become entangled in human society. We become invested in the lives of our human peers, we befriend them, care about them. Sometimes we fall in love with them. Eating people seems like kind of a big secret to keep from a potential romantic partner - I certainly couldn’t manage it - but some ghouls form romantic relationships with humans nonetheless. Maybe some of these human partners eventually discover the truth and are willing to overlook it for the person they love, but I doubt it happens often. I’ve certainly never heard of it. I’ve heard of it going the other way, though, a human partner discovering the truth and reacting poorly. Someone always dies when that happens. I personally know a few ghouls who’ve dated humans, or are seriously involved with them. Frankly, it scares the hell out of me. I get that the heart wants what it wants, but some wants aren’t worth the risk.

{Editing Note: That last line feels… tense. Emotionally charged. Why? And should I change it?}

In my opinion, the gravest of these risks is what happens when a human and a ghoul decide they want to build a life together, but kids are already in the equation. The human-ghoul mixed family is probably the most toxic environment that a ghoul child could be raised in and conceivably survive. All that pressure of hiding your true nature from your peers as you grow up? That feeling of isolation that follows you everywhere you go among humans? All of the most crushing emotional turmoil I’ve described in this book so far? Imagine if there was no relief for that even at home with your family. I frankly have no idea how ghoul parents manage to feed themselves and their children without being caught, or how they manage to perform humanity so flawlessly and constantly that their literal immediate family never catches on. I don’t know how those children manage to survive to adulthood, but I imagine they have some seriously fucked up mental health problems by the time they do. Factor in the suspicion that they would inevitably face from our Society when they finally are able to join it properly - after all, who more likely to become a Judas or be Lost than a ghoul raised by humans? - and I’d be willing to bet most of them don’t make it out of their twenties.

Before we move on entirely from families in general and mixed families in particular, I’d like to take a quick aside to talk about “half-ghouls”. You hear about them in horror media fairly often, the biological child of a human and a ghoul. Authors love to ascribe all sorts of traits to these hypothetical creatures - greater and more monstrous than the sum of their parts, supernaturally strong and vicious, impossible to detect within human society, sometimes with traits that are blatantly impossible, like telepathy or mind control or just plain magic. All of that is obviously untrue, but it’s something of a point of contention as to whether or not a “half-ghoul” is even possible. None of the ghouls I’ve talked to seem to agree about whether it can happen, and a search of human medical literature was similarly inconclusive. Humans, at least, seem to think that it might be theoretically possible, but have never been able to verify it by observation or by medical experiment. Of the ghouls I know that have been romantically involved with humans, none of them have ever gotten a kid out of it. It’s one of those things where we just don’t know. If it were possible, I’m not even sure what the implications would be.

#my writing #memoirs of a flesh eater #original fiction #not tlt

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dracosaurusrex · 4 years

Text

The Unraveling

Part 2 to Notebook!

Summary: Where house rivalry begins to crumble and attraction begins to bloom

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!reader

A/N: I just want to say thank you so much to all those who’ve shown support for the notebook! I didn’t really expect much from it, but it makes me so happy to know that it was enjoyable :) It seems that there will be another part to this, so I’ll definitely be brainstorming. Hopefully this one is just as good as the first. Once again, feedback is very much appreciated!

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Prior to meeting you, Draco only knew you by face--small glimpses of your face, that is. Your name had been thrown around here and there, but it was never enough to conjure any thought or interest within him. You were merely another student at Hogwarts who so happened to be in Gryffindor. Nothing more, nothing less. It was never in his mind that he’d ever become so intrigued by your presence, making the boy recall the first assignment you’d ever work on together.

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

The duration of your transfiguration class was coming to a close, and by now everyone was chattering amongst their friends, allowing the information that had been taught to slip away. McGonagall drew their attention once more for a final announcement.

“Before you leave today, I will be partnering you up for a group assignment: An essay on vanishing charms. Please listen for your names! Once I call you, you may go!”

The professor was going through her list swiftly. You faced Ginny in hopes that you’d be paired up with her, however that was dashed when McGonagall associated her name with Seamus’s. A frown was plastered on your face, ‘Damn. Who could my partner be?’

“Draco Malfoy, you’ll be working with Y/N Y/L/N.” You immediately felt your mood fall even more. With disappointment, you slung your bag over your shoulder, stood up, and took a brief glance at your partner before making your way to the door. You didn’t know what to expect out of this experience. You were aware of the boy through the eyes of your friends, but you never actually engaged with him before. Because of this, your first impression of him leaned towards the more negative side.

You weren’t thinking about anything except getting to your next class until you heard a shout, “Y/L/N! Library! Lunch!” Turning to the boy, you signalled an “ok” and gave a forced smile before walking away again. Draco stared at your figure as it grew further and further away down the hallway.

“Blaise, do you know anything about Y/L/N? She has quite the attitude doesn’t she?” He asked, slightly annoyed with your nonchalant behavior.

“Oh her? Pretty sure she’s friends with Potter and his bunch. Also known for being bloody good in transfiguration and DADA within our year. What’s it to you?”

Draco shrugged, “Never heard of her before. We’re paired for this essay.”

“Are you bothered that she's not giving you much attention as her other friends?” Blaise retorted while Draco scowled in response.

“I’ve got to be really desperate to want attention from someone like her.”

He made his way to his own class with Blaise following him shortly. He was confused by how indifferent you were to his presence. If you were really a part of the Gryffindor bunch, then surely you would have the same views as them when it came to him...right? Deciding to assume so, he continued on with his day without giving it too much thought.

You were released from your class a little earlier before lunch started, so you made your way to the library, hoping to get started right away on the research. Once you got there, you were met with an empty hall and the scent of old books--a comforting scent, really.

You weaved your way through countless shelves until you found yourself in the reference section. With your focus concentrated on your essay topic, you selected books you thought would be useful. Unknowingly, you’ve begun to accumulate a stack of books, so much so that you weren’t aware of the presence of a particular platinum-haired boy.

Draco cleared his throat, “You really think we’re going to need all that?” The suddenness of the occasion made you jump and stumble backwards as you held your hand over your chest.

“Merlin, Draco! Give me a warning, won’t you?” You closed your eyes. You were so startled at the moment that you didn’t realize how easy it was for you to say his name. You made a mental note to watch yourself more carefully. To your surprise, however, the boy let out a light chuckle (oddly enough, he liked the way it sounded from you). When you looked up at him, you couldn’t help but notice how warm he looked. It was different from his usual demeanor, but you welcomed it, giving a slight smile.

“Well we can’t get any work done if you plan to keep sitting there, Y/L/N” Scratch that. There he was.

“Well maybe if you helped me carry these books instead of standing there, we’d get to a table faster.” You said sarcastically. You handed him two of the texts and stood up with the rest. It didn’t occur to you how close he was until your eyes were met with his due to the small proximity. ‘Silver, how pretty’. The both of you felt a weird heat flush against your cheeks, a slight skip in heartbeat, and a certain difference in the air around you. To abolish the awkwardness you cleared your throat and apologized, starting to look for a table that was available. You settled for one that was near the window. The sunlight that shined through it looked really beautiful from afar.

Without any hesitation, the two of you settled. Draco sat himself in the seat next to yours, while placing the books in the space in front of him. You imitated his actions and went to work right away. Once you opened the covers, you were absorbed into your own world. With a piece of parchment resting beside you, you took your quill and began taking your notes on pieces of information that you felt were important. You were so concentrated that you didn’t notice the gaze that the boy had fixed on you.

Draco had only known you through brief passings in the hallways. He’d known you as a classmate, as a Gryffindor. But today--with the way the sunlight was casted on your hair and facial features--this was the first time he actually noticed you. The sight of your focused expression was enhanced by the way the sun illuminated your cheeks, how it graced your eyelids, even the way it softly landed on your lips. You looked ethereal, beautiful, far beyond than he expected. That moment was only for his eyes. He took a mental picture of it.

He also took notice of the way your hair was falling in front of you. He then mindlessly reached out to you and tucked the strand of hair behind your ear, making your eyes go wide. A blush threatened to spread across your cheeks again.

It took Draco a second before realizing what he had just done. Keeping in mind his reputation, he straightened up, struggling to string words together.

“Don’t get me wrong Y/L/N. That random strand was itching to be pulled back.” He turned his attention to the book in front of him.

“Ah...thanks. I guess.” Your hand gripped your quill a little tighter as you tried to process what the heck just happened as well as why you were getting so impacted by his actions. Both of your hearts were pounding now.

Perhaps it was because of the fact that the way he acted just now didn’t seem like the same person who would mercilessly bully others, let alone your friends. No. Instead, he was warm, and it shocked you. You definitely did not expect this from him. In fact, you wanted to question why he was acting like this, but you knew that deep in your heart you actually liked it yourself. Coming to the conclusion that the question was just a waste of energy, you shoved it in the back of your mind.

A few more minutes of writing had passed, and you took a look at the parchment, proud of the progress you’ve made so far. Out of nowhere, your stomach let out a huge growl, inducing a smirk coming from Draco.

“It seems that someone’s hungry.”

“Well what do you expect? It’s lunch and I haven’t eaten all day. I was kind of looking forward to the menu today, y’know?” You cradled your stomach, trying to shush it from making any more noise. The way your lips formed into a pout made the boy’s heart flip. He thought to himself, ‘What the hell is going on with me?’

Suddenly remembering the cookie he snagged from breakfast that morning, he took out the small form of sustenance and chucked it to you.

“There. Hope you like chocolate chip.” This topped it for you. You were practically stunned by how sweet this boy was at this very moment.

Without thinking you asked him anyway, “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m not really familiar to this side of you.”

He glanced at you and plainly stated, “You’re weird that’s why.”

‘Well gee, thanks.’ You thought. You rolled your eyes and smiled at his kind gestures. It was awkward and clumsy, but it slowly untangled the first impressions you had of the boy. You decided to tease him because of this.

“Draco Malfoy, soft? I’m not used to it, but I think it suits you.” You said smiling at him. It was different from the forced smile you gave earlier. He never would admit it, but at that instance he felt the desire to keep that smile in his life.

“Don’t get too used to it, Gryffindork.”

“You have my word, Slytherin.” You raised your right hand before unwrapping the cookie and breaking it in half. “Here, you must’ve been waiting to eat it.” You said, offering his piece to him. He took it with a small smile, and you two basked in the moment.

There was a first for everything, and without giving the scene any more thought, the both of you had begun noticing one another from that point on.

part 1

A/N: So, what’d you think?? My goal for this chapter was to portray Draco in a way that was slightly closer to his portrayal in the movie. I personally feel like if he wants to show kindness then he would. Maybe not in the way that is typical, but rather in his own Draco kind of way. IDKKKKK aha. Well I hope you enjoyed!

Taglist: @m-winchester-67 @bbeauttyybbx @un-limit-edd @poetontheblock @tttyrus @stretchyice

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged :D

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hannahdra-ws · 3 years

Text

The Village

well, I’ve been there, sitting in that same chair / whispering that same prayer half a million times / it’s a lie, though, buried in disciples / one page of the bible isn’t worth a life

(or: Patton decides to come out to his parents. It doesn’t go as well as he hoped.)

ships: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

tw: transph*bia, child ab*se, yelling, dissociation, getting kicked out

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“No, Princey, you’re just wrong. Cool Ranch Doritos are the superior kind; your taste buds are just broken.”

Roman gasped dramatically, and Patton hid a giggle behind his hand. They were currently all sitting at the park on a nice summer's day; Logan right beside him, Roman on his side, Virgil on his other side, and the newest edition, Janus, right across from him.

“You absolute heathen! Spicy Nacho is obviously the best flavor.” Roman glared at Virgil with no real heat, Virgil just smirking back at him until Roman huffed and waved his hand. “It’s no use trying to change your opinion, you’re just always going to be wrong.”

“If I may,” Janus intervened, adjusting his yellow gloves and flicking his eye up to them, “Both of you are wrong. Nacho cheese is arguably the best flavor.”

“Shut up, Janus.” Both Roman and Virgil said at the same time, causing Janus to roll his eye and go back to… whatever he’s reading. Patton didn’t know.

Patton sighed and heard as their continued banter fell into the background. He’s really, really, really stressed today since… well, he’s planning to come out to his parents today.

read on ao3

HIs parents aren’t really kind people, sure, and they say a lot of things that Patton doesn’t agree with. Logan once described them as “emotionally and psychologically abusive” which Patton doesn’t really see. They don’t mean to hurt him, they love him.

Just because they call him stupid, and ugly, and irresponsible, that doesn't mean they're bad. They're right.

And just because Patton is a little scared to say that he’s trans, that’s a normal thing. It’s a scary situation.

It’ll all be okay.

Liar.

He was cut off from his thoughts by Logan gently taking his hand, sending sparks of warmth down his whole arm. Logan leaned over, his blue eyes seeming to sparkle in the sunlight as he let go of Patton’s hand and started signing. ‘Are you alright?’

Patton wondered why he didn’t ask out loud, but then he realized it was probably because he didn’t want to bring attention to Patton in case he didn’t want everyone to know. His heart fluttered -- Logan really is the best.

Patton nodded, about to give Logan a big smile, but then he hesitated. He then shook his head and signed with shaky hands- his ASL isn’t really the best, but he’s learning - ‘I need to tell something to the group.’

Logan nodded and cleared his throat, “Excuse me, if you two would stop.” He said to Roman and Virgil, who had now moved on to which type of Pringle was the best, causing them to stop. “Patton has something to say.”

Patton stiffened as every eye turned to him. Why is he nervous? His friends are some of the most supporting people in the world. They already know he’s trans, so telling them he’s planning to come out tonight shouldn’t make him this jittery.

“What’s up, Popstar? You okay?” Virgil asked, leaning his hands on the table. Janus flicked his eye over to Patton in vague interest, Roman turned his full attention to him, and Logan kept holding his hand under the table.

Patton took a deep breath to shake off all the jittery bugs, and exclaimed, “I’m planning to come out to my parents tonight.”

The reaction was mixed.

Roman and Logan's eyes both widened in a weird mix of concern and pride. Since Roman and Logan are the only ones who've been over to his house, they have actually met his parents.

Janus lifted his eyebrows in surprise and closed the book he was reading. He then tried to act like he wasn't that interested but failed pretty badly (in his own humble opinion.)

And Virgil leaned over more, with his hands spread out on the table and open concern in his eyes. "Really?! Holy shit!"

Patton tried for a smile, but it kind of fell flat. "Yeah, uh.. It's a bit nerve wracking, if I'm being honest."

"I'll say, Pat. That is a very brave thing to do." Roman told him, patting (hah! patt-ing) him on the shoulder.

"I definitely don't support you full-heartedly, of course, but aren't your parents incredibly conservative?" Janus asked, making a motion to check his nails even though they were under his gloves.

Patton was going to answer, but Logan cut him off. "Was that sarcasm?"

Janus nodded, giving him a look that said what do you think?

Logan nodded back and continued on. "Yes, Patton, your parents are very conservative and are close minded about a lot of subjects, especially related to LGBTQ+ issues. Are you sure about this?"

"Logan, I can't keep this a secret anymore. They deserve to know, they're my parents." Pattons heart felt heavy with guilt; they should have known from the moment he figured it out. They've taken so much care of him, and he repays them by lying?

"You don't owe them anything, Patton. If you truly want to come out, we'll support you, but don't feel guilty for not coming out to them sooner. It is entirely up to you." Janus made direct eye contact with him, and Patton felt like that half blind stare could see into his soul and pick him apart.

Roman nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. Patton knows that he has issues with his own sexuality, and he's trying his best, but it can still be an uncomfortable talk for him. Patton's heart ached for his friend.

Logan squeezed his hand, "I agree. Whatever you do is entirely up to you." Patton felt his face warm up when Logan squeezed his hand, and tried to ignore it.

The conversation was silent for a moment while Patton thought it over, until Virgil asked, "Would they hurt you?"

The tension in the air seemed to skyrocket as Patton whipped his head up to look at Virgil, who was anxiously wringing his hands. Logan gave him a fidget cube to play with while Patton spluttered, trying to figure out how to respond.

"N-No! Of course they wouldn't! They've never laid a hand on me before!"

"Just because it hasn't happened yet, doesn't mean it couldn't happen at any moment." Virgil's eyes went dark with a memory, and Patton once again felt an uncharacteristic anger at Virgil's father.

Patton reached over, slowly enough that Virgil could stop him if he wanted, and took his hand. "I promise, I'll stay safe."

Virgil held out his pinky finger, "Pinky promise?"

Patton felt his smile grow wide, and felt a glittering happiness in his heart at how far Virgil had come. "Pinky promise."

"Okay." Virgil breathed, leaning back as Patton sat back into his seat. Janus watched the exchange quietly, an old sort of nostalgia in his eye.

"Pinky promise? Are you in kindergarten?" Roman teased Virgil, who slapped his arm playfully.

"Shut the fuck up, off-brand Troy Bolton." Janus immediately burst into laughter, hiding his mouth behind his hand as Roman spluttered.

"Troy Bolton?!"

"You play football and you're on the drama team, you're literally Troy Bolton."

"You didn't need to call me out like that, though!"

Janus was still laughing, and even Logan was trying not to smile, and Patton just… took a moment and admired his friends.

He's known Roman since middle school. Patton was immediately drawn to him, his loud personality complimenting Patton perfectly.

When Roman was 13, his siblings died. Only he and his brother survived, and from what Patton knows, it's because they weren't in the car with them. He never got to meet any of his siblings, but he knows there were a lot; he wants to say maybe 10, including Roman.

It astounds him that so many people could just… die so quickly like that.

Roman didn't talk a lot after that happened. And sometimes, these days, he just goes silent. But he's getting better, and Patton couldn't be more proud of him.

His eyes moved to Virgil and he felt his heart ache. Virgil started hanging out with them months ago, around the beginning of sophomore year. His sharp wit, dry humor and sarcastic remarks added something to the group that he didn't know was missing.

Patton can say with confidence that he hates Virgil's father. From what Virgil has told him, after his mom died his dad turned into a completely different person. Constantly beating Virgil around, berating him; he doesn't even keep any food in the house for Virgil to eat.

It makes Patton want to cry, thinking about it.

Janus… confuses him. He doesn't know much about him, but he does know that Patton's breaking down the walls around Janus's heart little by little every day. Patton does know that he's blind in one eye, he's known Virgil since they were really young, and he too used to hang out with Remus before splitting off to this group-- Patton doesn't know why. He would see them in the halls together a long time ago.

Pattons seen Remus in the hallways. He always wanted to go up and talk to him, see how he was doing, but a part of him… a part of him was a little scared of him. Remus had the reputation of being "the druggie" around school, and as much as Patton hated himself for it, it kind of made him wary to talk to him.

The deep eye bags and the bruised knuckles did always make him worry a bit though.

He hopes one day he'll muster up the courage to talk to him.

"So, I know what Patton is doing, but what are all of you doing after this? Burning a bank down, perhaps?" Janus inquired the rest of the group.

Logan huffed. "Burning a bank down is illegal. I'm going home to study."

Roman frowned, "It's summer, calculator watch. You don't need to study."

"It's good to get a head start on the next year's courses."

Roman stared at him like he was speaking another language, then shook his head and sighed. "Whatever. I'm going home. I've got to catch up on my beauty routine." He flashed a dazzling smile, and Patton giggled.

"C-" Virgil stopped and cleared his throat, then spoke again. "Can I come over?" He asked Roman quietly, his voice soft, like he was afraid Roman would say no.

Roman turned to him, clearly surprised, "You want to come over?"

Virgil shook his head and forcefully pushed down on one of the buttons on his fidget cube, "I mean- I don't have to, if you're busy, it's fine-"

"No! I'm not busy! You can come over!" Roman burst out in one breath, and Virgil looked up at him, mouth open slightly in surprise.

"Oh.. Okay. Cool." Virgil smiled at him hesitantly, and Roman beamed back, and Patton swears there's an emotional connection between them. They look at eachother for way too long for nothing to be going on.

Janus fake gagged at Roman and Virgil, then stood up and adjusted his gloves. "My dad is going to be home for the first time in a while, so I'm going home to eat with him. Right now."

They all said their goodbyes to Janus, who did a little bow and patted Patton's shoulder for good luck.

Patton felt his phone buzz and got it out, not sure why his stomach dropped when he checked the message he got.

Momma: Dinners going to be ready soon. Hurry up.

"I gotta go, kiddos," Patton said, standing up and giving Roman a hug from where Roman was sitting. Logan and Virgil don't usually like hugs, so he didn't bother asking for one.

"Good luck, sunshine, may good fortune be in your favor!" Roman declared dramatically, hugging him back despite the awkward angle.

"Stay safe, Pat, okay?" Virgil told him, and Patton nodded and said he would.

Logan only gave him a quick nod, which confused him a bit, but he shrugged it off and walked away to find his bike.

When Patton found it, he was about to head home, when--

"Patton! Wait!"

Logan was running after him, his 6'4 frame towering over him as he came to a stop, looking oddly nervous.

Patton smiled at him, "What's up, Lolo?"

Logan cleared his throat, flapping his hands a bit, "Would you, um. Would you like a hug? I've read that hugs can be optimal for comfort in high stress situations, and today has been a good sensory day, so-"

Logan was cut off by Patton squealing and rushing into him, Patton making sure not to hold him too tightly.

Golly, Patton doesn't think he's ever met someone like Logan. Meeting him in middle school was probably a miracle. Kind and super duper intelligent, telling him all sorts of facts about space and the ocean. Patton loves to watch Logan infodump to him, flapping his hands and smiling so wide. His heart flips in his chest whenever Logan comes into a room, or whenever he speaks; his smooth voice makes Patton feel safe and at home.

So, maybe Patton has a crush on Logan. Gosh, can you blame him?

Logan smells like rain water and old leather paper. Patton's face is buried in his chest, coming up to around 5'8 so he's super short compared to him. Logan's strong arms are wrapped loosely around him, and Patton genuinely just-- doesn't want to leave.

He breaks the hug sooner than later, though, because he doesn't want to overwhelm Logan. Patton's pretty sure his cheeks are glowing, and by the looks of it, Logan's are too.

Logan clears his throat again, "...Was that satisfactory?" He asked quietly, and gosh he's so ding dang cute Patton almost can't handle it.

"It was very satisfactory, Lo."

Logan smiled down at him, "Well, that's nice to hear. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me, at my house that is."

Patton nodded, pushing up his circle glasses that ended up slipping down his nose. "I know, Logan, thank you."

Logan nodded, then stepped back a bit. "Well, I won't keep you. Goodbye Patton. Good luck."

Patton hopped on his bike, "Bye Lolo!" He waved, before pedaling off.

On his way home, he planned out what he would say.

He slowly became more and more anxious, but it will be fine.

Everything is going to be fine.

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

Everything was not going to be fine.

Patton was pacing around his room, heart racing probably too fast to be considered normal. Dread curled around his stomach like a snake, squeezing and squeezing until it felt like he couldn't breathe.

He can't do this, why did he think he could do this? He can't breathe-

"Okay, deep breaths, Pat. You're okay." He said out loud to himself. Remembering the breathing exercises that Virgil used, he deeply inhales for 4 seconds, holds for 7, and exhales for 8.

It takes a few more attempts until he's able to breathe normally, but eventually his heart rate slows down a bit.

Picking up his phone, he sent a message off to the group chat that he and the others all share.

PappyPatton: Wish me luck. dinners about to be ready :))

Logan: Good luck, Patton.

RomanoLettuce: Good luck padre!!!!!! remember to take your sword (I'll give u mine if u want it)

draculawannabe: good luck pat, pls stay safe

twofacedgay: I hope you have fun, but don't force yourself

Patton smiled as his chest filled with joy. Gosh, he loves his friends so much.

"Anna! Dinners ready!"

Instantly that joy shattered, once again replaced by ice sinking into his stomach. Patton swallowed his nerves and replied, "Coming!"

He took a deep breath, put his phone in his pocket and went downstairs, praying to whoever would listen that everything would be okay.

When he got downstairs, his baby sister, Angela, squealed when she saw him and made grabby hands. Patton cooed and pinched her cheeks,"Well hi! I missed you too!"

Angela gurgled and gave him one of her cheerios from her plate. Patton picked it up with a big smile and popped it in his mouth, then thanked his little sister for the generous offer.

"Anna, sit down. Your mother has had a hard day." His father commanded. Patton swallowed and sat down at the end of the table, looking at his plate. Ugh. Broccoli.

Patton's mother sighed and came out of the kitchen, sitting down and putting her head in her hands. Oh, god, she's in a bad mood.

She sighed again before sitting up, seeming to shake off the tiredness as she offered her hands to both of them. "Let's say grace before dinner."

Please, don't. God already knows I'm sinning.

But they did it anyways, and before Patton knew it everyone was digging in. He's not hungry.

His father took note of his and said, "Anna. You need to eat."

His mother turned and saw his still full plate, and sighed at him with disappointment. "I spent all that time making this, and you're not even going to eat it? Ungrateful."

Patton felt guilt wallow up inside him,wrapping around his throat and choking him, but didn't let it phase him. His mother and father resumed their conversation (something about the stock market, Patton doesn't know) before Patton cleared his throat.

"Um, mom, dad.. I have to tell you something."

His mother and father stopped, turning to him. His mother looked irritated, you can't do anything right, and his father just looked vaguely curious.

"Is this about your grades? If it is, then we already know your grades. They need to be higher." His mother said.

Patton swallowed again, trembling a little bit, "Uh- n-no, it's not that."

You can do it, Patton. It's not that hard.

His father tilted his head, "Then, what? Out with it, girl."

Patton took a deep breath, stop shaking you're fine everything's fine here we go here we go, and said, his voice trembling, "I'm trans."

Silence.

Then, his mother started laughing.

Patton looked up at her, confused. Why is she laughing?

"That's funny, dear." His mom chuckled, mirth dripping from her voice. His father just looked uncomfortable.

"N-no, mom, I'm serious. I'm a-a-a boy." Patton dug his nails into his thigh under the table. "I-I'd actually prefer to go by Patton."

His mother stopped laughing.

"You're serious?" Her voice had gone unrecognizable. Gone was the laughter and the mirth; now all he heard was rage. The tension in the room had risen to almost unbearable levels.

His stomach curled in on himself as he nodded, "Y-Yeah, I-"

Smack.

Patton recoiled, face swinging to the side as he tried to process what just happened. His cheek started stinging.

She smacked him.

He didn’t even see her move.

"How could you do this to me, Anna?! To us?!" His mom yelled, oh god she's yelling now, everything is going wrong.

She stood up, forcefully pushing herself away from the table. His father grabbed her arm, but she shook him off and stared Patton down.

"Didn't we raise you to know better?! God is going to punish you, Anna!" His mother screamed at him, her face red with rage. "You're going to hell!"

Patton whimpered and flinched hard when a plate was thrown at him, barely managing to dodge. When did she pick up the plate? What is happening?!

Angela was screaming, his mother was screaming, his face hurt from the slap, this wasn't how this was supposed to go-

He doesn't know when he started crying, burying himself in his trembling arms, trying to make the noise go away. He felt like he was watching this happen through a window, or on a TV screen. This couldn’t be real.

"Diana, please," his father tried to interject, but was cut off by his mother.

"No, Michael! She's sinning! She thinks she's a boy!" His mother shrieked and Patton cringed in on himself, trying to remember the breathing exercises that Virgil uses, trying to stop crying.

"M-m-mom, I'm s-sorr-" he tried to say, lifting his shaking head up slightly, before he was backhanded so hard he fell out of his chair to the floor and the room was spinning.He vaguely noticed his glasses falling off; his mother stepped on them with a loud crack.

Patton tried to regain his breath, his ears ringing, before he felt his shirt being pulled and him being forced to stand.

His mother stood before him, her eyes filled with tears and rage and hatred.

"Get out." She said, oh so quietly.

What? Was she kicking him out? Ice cold dread wrapped around his chest, sinking into his stomach like a stone. No no no no please-

"B-but I-"

She smacked him again, hard enough to make his nose bleed, "Get out, get out, get out! Don't come back until you've opened up your heart to the lord!" She screamed, sending him into a full blown terror. His heart raced, as he scrambled up the stairs, hearing the yelling continue from downstairs. He didn't even look at what he was taking, he just threw in random things, trying to get out of there as fast as possible. Patton’s heart raced with adrenaline and panic as he stuffed everything into a Wal-Mart bag. Was he crying? He didn't know. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there.

Patton ran back downstairs, desperately just wanting to leave, before she got even more angry. He made eye contact with his father, who just glared at him and looked away.

His baby sister was still shrieking and crying. His mother was standing over the table, surrounded by broken glass, shoulders tense with anger.

She turned to face Patton, and the rage that seemed to simmer down sprung to life again.

"Get the fuck out! I don't want to see your face again, Anna!" She spat his deadname, like it was poison.

Patton didn't hesitate, scrambling to the door and running out into the freezing night air, holding his bag close to his chest.

"God is going to punish you!" His mother shrieked from the house, and that was the last thing he heard before he started running.

Patton didn't even have his glasses; he could barely see. He was running so hard his chest started to hurt, combined with the cold night air, made him want to cough. Adrenaline coursed through Patton's veins, coursing alongside the crushing fear of what would happen if he didn't get away.

But he didn't even know where he was going. Where does he go now?

One word popped into the back of his mind, and he knew that was where he had to go.

Logan.

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

Patton doesn't know how long it took to get to Logan's house. Everything is blurry from his lack of glasses, and his chest hurts and his face hurts and everything hurts-

He knew the outline of Logan's house, though, and suddenly he was on the front porch, knocking urgently.

God is going to punish you.

Patton felt like he was floating. Like he could look down and see his own body standing there; he's pretty sure there's a term for that, but he can't remember it right now.

Everything is going numb; whether that's from the cold or otherwise, he doesn't care.

How could you do this to me? To us?

Patton had stopped crying a few blocks back- now, everything is just cold numbness.

Patton was jerked out of his thoughts when the front door opened, revealing Logan's giant form.

"Did you forget your ke- oh, Patton. What are you doing here? Are- Are you alright?" Logan tilted his head as he stared at Patton in concern.

Patton must look like a mess- dried tears and snot and a little blood, big red slap mark on his cheek, no glasses and a Wal-Mart bag.

Patton shook his head, trying to get rid of the ever present nothing that he felt. "Uh- not really, Lolo." His voice was rough and scratchy from crying.

Logan's eyes darted down to the Wal-Mart bag, then to the slap mark on his face and lack of glasses, and just- stared.

The silence went on for a while, and Patton turned to leave. I shouldn't have bothered him, I bother everyone god is going to punish you

"I'm sorry." Patton said, his voice small, "I didn't mean to bother you. I can go-"

"No!" Logan exclaimed, making Patton flinch and turn back around. Logan looked sheepish from his outburst and wrung his hands a bit, "Apologies for startling you. Please, come in." Logan stepped aside so that Patton could come in, still eyeing the Wal-Mart bag.

Patton walked in and let Logan direct him to the couch. Patton always liked Logan's house. The layout was similar to his, but it had the comfort and warmth that his own home (don't come back until you've opened your heart to the lord) was missing.

"Let me- um- let me get you some water. And a blanket." Logan mumbled before hurrying off, leaving Patton alone with his thoughts.

He could hear the water running. He could hear Logan rummaging around in the closet, probably looking for a blanket. Logically, he knows where he is.

But he feels just- disconnected from his body.

Why in the world did he think that coming out to them would be a good idea? Patton knows their views, he should have been smarter, shouldn't have been so trusting-

Maybe Patton's prayer went unanswered because Patton deserved this. Maybe this is his punishment.

And now he's bothering Logan,the best person in the world, with his burdens. He's probably overwhelming him. God, he can't do anything right.

"Here." Logan draped a large, blue, soft blanket over Patton's shoulders. He gently handed him the glass of water, keeping his hands raised in case Patton's shaky hands dropped it.

"Thank you." Patton's voice felt wrong to his own ears as he took a sip of water. It soothed his raw throat, and after a few sips he was glad he could speak correctly again.

Logan stayed silent, aside from the continuous tapping on his leg. Patton knows he must have questions, so he sets the glass down and curls his knees into his chest, giving him silent permission to ask.

And that's just what Logan did. "Patton… what happened?" Logan's voice was quiet, concerned. Patton shrugged, cracking an empty smile that fell 2 seconds after he put it up.

"I came out. It- uh- didn't go so well." He tried to giggle, but it was watery and he suddenly has the urge to cry cry cry cry.

"What happened to your glasses? Why do you have a Wal- ...Oh." Logan's went silent again, but this time you could basically feel the rage in the air. "How dare they."

Logan sounded angry. Patton instinctively curled up more, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Logan cut him off before he could.

"No, Patton, I'm not mad at you, I just-" Logan took a deep breath and flapped out his hands a bit, "Did they kick you out?" He was straight to the point.

Patton nodded.

Logan swore and bit down on his knuckle, and Patton realized with a start that there were tears in Logan's eyes. Why is he crying?! God I made him sad too what is wrong with me?!

Patton jumped up, "Oh, you're crying! I'm so sorry, Logan!" Patton tried to apologize, but Logan shook his head and wiped his eyes.

"It's- It's fine. Do not worry about it." Logan took a deep breath, in and out, and then looked at Patton again.

"Patton I- I am so sorry that happened to you. That never should have happened, ever. Your parents should have been accepting and kind to who you really are. I'm so sorry they weren't."

Patton shrugged again, not feeling so numb anymore as he looked down and bit back the tears in his throat.

Logan scooted over and took his hand.

And then the dam broke.

Patton started sobbing- gut wrenching tears were dragged out of him, as he put his head in his hands and let the sobs wrack his body. It hurts so much, everything hurts so much-

He was vaguely aware of his body being maneuvered, and suddenly his head was on Logan's chest, and Logan's hand was in his hair, and he was whispering- not reassurances, but just facts.

"Your name is Patton. You have brown eyes and dirty blonde hair, bordering on brown. You have freckles and a gap in your teeth. You adore frogs and butterflies." Logan kept up a steady whisper of facts about Patton, as Patton kept crying into Logan.

He cried for about 10 minutes before the tears finally slowed, and he could sit up from Logan's chest but he doesn't want to. Even though he made a wet spot on Logan's pajamas, and is probably bothering him with this whole thing, he doesn't want to leave.

"Please don't make me leave." Slipped out before he could stop it, and he felt his ears heat with shame.

"Oh, Patton- You're not leaving. You are staying right here." Logan sounded like he was crying, too, and that just made Patton feel awful.

"In fact, you're staying with us from now on. You're going to live here." Patton's mind screeched to a halt as he looked back up at Logan. What?

"What?"

"You're staying here. My mom's can be your legal guardians." Logan looked completely serious.

Patton's mind was spinning. Could they do that? Isn't that against the law?

"If we have your biological parents permission, you can stay here all you want. My mom's can go get your stuff tomorrow. Patton, you are not going back there. You deserve to have a safe home, where you can be yourself without having to be afraid or belittled. You deserve safety."

And- and-

And Patton thought the tears were done, but apparently they weren't, and he started sobbing again into Logan's night shirt.

He felt dizzy with relief, his chest contracting in an almost painful way.

He's going to be okay.

With Logan whispering gentle facts in his ear, and Logan's heartbeat under his other ear, and the voice of his mother in his head getting quieter.

God is probably still going to punish him. But that's later.

Because right now Patton can feel Logan's breathing and feel his voice echo through his chest as he talks quietly with his mom's, who apparently Patton didn't hear coming through the door.

Patton had one last, coherent thought before slipping into unconsciousness.

I'm going to be okay.

#sanders sides #patton sanders angst #fic #fanfic #high school au #logicality

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seeminglyseph · 3 years

Text

I have blocked the people responsible for the cyber harassment that has been going on as of late, yet am still getting anonymous messages telling me to stop being friends with my friend. So who broke their own rules about sending messages when they aren’t wanted? Are my boundaries not the same as your boundaries? You’ve driven us out, what do you care anymore? Oh right this is a super fun game you’re playing. I know I’ve been targeted, vagued about and people have been instructed to unfollow me due to guilt by association. I have been through hell this year, and I’m tired of your games, lies, manipulations and attacks. This has been drawn out by people being cruel for the sake of finding joy in other people’s pain. They’ve already proven they’re willing to attack other people, lie, make things up, and create intricate conspiracies to justify the depth of their cruelty.

What’s really more monstrous “have I done something to offend you? can I fix it?” or “it’s just fun to goad her because she keeps getting hurt and making a funny reaction”

I am not having an argument. Send me all the hate you want but leave her alone, this is me and me alone saying you are bullies and acting like malicious children and I think it’s embarrassing that all of you think it’s okay. Really. I think you’re fucking embarrassments.

Throughout the death of my father Viking was at my side. She made me gifts and sent me messages of support, we talked about our OCs and we talked about stories and she kept me moving when everything felt too much to handle. She is my friend, she’s growing and working and putting in the effort to be a really, truly a good friend to me. I’ll note that I am a trans man, and she has always respected that, never treated me in a way that was transphobic and has been better about talking about me in a masculine way than a lot of people I have known. The accusation of transphobia comes from years old beliefs and mistakes that were never corrected.

There have also been a lot of statements about how people don’t change or deserve second chances, and that’s bullshit and any one of you who believes that people are not capable or growth or change then you need to grow up and meet more people. If you’re holding purity so high you only ever meet perfect people then your empathy has atrophied. Meet messier people, we all exist, we all fuck up, we all have a past self we’re ashamed of. Talk to an ex-addict about turning their life around, talk to the people who have been overwhelmed with mental illness, talk to people who’ve had to unlearn horrible lessons taught by abusive parents. Go to group therapy and learn how hard everyone’s working and stop being the monster that keeps people from moving forward.

#I think your evidence of harassment shows someone who thought they mattered to you asking if they could fix things #if you don't answer a question over and over again maybe there's a reason it keeps being asked?#I'm not participating in the arcana fandom anymore I'm tired of emotional violence that is being allowed.

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tiedisms · 4 years

Text

◟ * hello and welcome to tiedisms : my brand new baby , which will hopefully help you out when you’re plotting , putting together a connections page for ur muse , etc ! while i’ll mostly be reblogging gifsets & other inspo - posts , i wanted to kick things off with a connection masterlist --------- under the cut you’ll find some possible connections + some promts to get you going , as well as examples of specific connections i’ve written for my wanted pages . i’d appreciate any likes and reblogs if you find this helpful at all !!

◟ * platonic .

childhood friends : did they grow up on the same street ? perhaps they could look into each other’s rooms through their windows ? muse a knows how muse b got that awful scar above their knee & muse b knows the details of muse a’s first kiss . people who’ve known each other their entire lives often work in synch , tend to think they know what’s best for the other , too . have they managed to stay friends through the years ? did they grow apart after high school or maybe get into a huge fight ? so many possibilies !

this said , friends who’ve grown apart : losing a friend can cause just as much heartache as a break up ! did life get in the way or did something cause a strain on the relationship ? did one person have to exit the situation because the friendship was becoming more and more toxic ? have they been asking mutual friends about the other or did they cut ties entirely ?

roommates . did they want to move in together or did they respond to the same craigslist add ? did they move in at the same time or did one of them come around later , new girl style ? do they get along or do they butt heads at every corner ? who cooks and who does the dishes ? who’s always way too loud and who complains about the noise ?

best friend’s sibling / sibling’s best friend . extended family of sorts , have always remained at the sidelines of each other’s lives . do they seem to take on sibling roles around one another , too ? or are they pretending to get along for their friend’s sake ?

shared ex . listen to fiona apple’s ‘ newspaper ‘ ! you can read this plot , as i’ve written it for my own connections page , down below .

good / bad influence . people’s lifestyles rub off on each other ! is one actively trying to change the other or is it simply a side - effect of them spending so much time together ? does the bad influence ever feel wrong for taking the other down a dark path ? does the good influence ever worry the other is far beyond saving ?

◟ * romantic .

friends to lovers : perhaps my favorite trope of all time ! look back at that childhood friends connection & now add years of unspoken feelings . how long have they been in love with each other ? who fell in love first ? are they even aware of their feelings ? growing in love instead of falling ! what would their families and other friends think ? are there already rumors and jokes about them being together ? is one of them currently in a relationship or getting over an ex ? do they find it hard to commit to other people , unaware that they’re always going to put each other first ? // alternatively : friends to lovers but after it’s crashed and burned , hate each other for how things ended between them , but still feel so much love for each other because they were always friends first .

casual exes : the type that ended on good terms , are maybe still friends , too . why did they break up and how did they manage to do so amicably ? i heard somewhere that if you’re still friends after a break up u either never were in love or are still in love --- is that the case for them ? do they find it easy to laugh about their time together or is there still some awkwardness there ?

unrequited crush . let your muses have innocent crushes ! we all fall in love with the idea of a person sometimes . does the person they have a crush on use that to boost their ego ? or are they constantly trying to distance themselves ? does your muse want to make a move or are they content admiring from afar ? what do they like about this person ?

sexual tension . the air is heavy between them & there’s clearly something there that they haven’t acted upon yet . why ? is it because they want to be mindful of other people ? because they don’t like each other much ? because they’re good friends and don’t want to ruin that ? have they acted upon their feelings before but promised to never do that again ?

◟ * examples .

* you don't ever have to be stronger than you really are . ——— in which . . . whenever tears pool in the corners of doe eyes , the other is there to stop them from flooding the room . the purest love x's ever known , a guardian angel , a hand to hold when things get tough .

* we were cursed the moment that he kissed us . ——— in which . . . a shared love for someone who can't show affection kindly brought the two closer than anything else ever could , the overlapping memories of a past lover binding them forever .

* it's a bad time for a good time . ——— in which . . . nothing stings like rejection does , pride often stronger than unfulfilled desires . now , they spit venom whenever they try to lure them back underneath their sheets .

* pour a little salt , we were never here ——— in which . . . love lingers just underneath the surface , heard in every word they say , but never confessed . doomed from the start , both nearly choke when calling each other just friends .

* you can count on me to misbehave ——— in which . . . just kids playing games , felt young whenever she was around them until a drunken night changed the way they saw each other , newfound tension bringing nothing but chaos .

* in my head , i do everything right ——— in which . . . heart full of love , but hands empty ; x was careless with their feelings , ran away the first time they had a fight , fell right back into someone else's arms .

* fuck and make up like it's maybelline , ——— in which . . . tangled up in each other's sheets almost every day , can never truly say goodbye despite their constant fights ; anger fuels lust , the roughness of it all only makes it more exciting for a girl dying to feel anything .

* don't blame the drunk caller , ——— in which . . . late nights have never been kind to x & there's a number they never removed from their speed dial . both swear the love has gone cold , but x still calls and they always pick up .

* baby , i was born tired , ——— in which . . . end hard days tangled in each other's arms on the couch , smoke filling the air , no pressure in a safe space . a platonic soulmate , someone to cling to when you need it most .

* must try harder than kissing all of my friends , ——— in which . . . nothing stings like rejection when you're used to people crawling at your feet , x has weaved her way into the lives and beds of people around them , as if to prove a point , begging for attention .

#rph #rpt #. . . . .what other tags do people use #please dont let me flop

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ladyxxdaydream · 3 years

Text

a year-in-review meme - for writers!

I thought up this writing meme for fic writers who might have been staring at the artists having their lovely and well-deserved collages of their work through the year - and wanted to join in the fun! also this works as a great reminder for those of you (and me) who’ve been thinking that they haven’t been writing as much as they want to, and allows you to go back to enjoy your old fic ;D

Rules: pick your favourite sentence from a work you posted / wrote during a month of 2020! if you didn’t write anything in any particular month, don’t worry! tell us what you were doing or use it as free space for runner-up sentences. after that, tag 8 people or more to do the meme!

That being said, here’s mine:

Tagged by: @rikacain !!

I’m tagging -- @flailinginlove @aviss @kiitsvne @stupidbadgers and @tea-blitz who doesn’t use tumblr anymore but WHATEVER. and anyone else who wants to do it! <3

~~~

JAN: (from Heavy Weight)

“Iruka felt Kakashi’s eye on him. Most people feared the Sharingan, and for good reason, but Iruka feared his real eye, his own eye. It had a way of seeing straight past Iruka’s defenses, no dōjutsu required, and deep into his soul.“

FEB: (from Old Pine)

“Do you want children?” Iruka asked, feeling like the timing was right.

Kakashi was quiet for a few moments. Iruka had learned to read Kakashi’s silences for what they were. It wasn’t hesitation like he had initially thought. Kakashi simply liked to think things through before answering immediately. Iruka liked that about him.

“I think we have four already,” Kakashi said, eyeing Sasuke, Naruto, Ino, and Sakura through the glass door.

Iruka laughed, but refrained from clarifying. He knew Kakashi understood what he meant and would answer him shortly. Iruka had also learned that Kakashi had a tendency to be indirect, before he got around to what he actually wanted to say.

MARCH: (from Mouthful)

“So, Kakashi.” Iruka said, unable to stand still any longer. “We both like what we see. Now what?”

He wasn’t usually this forward, but he was feeling it tonight. All of this playful banter was riling him up—it was his favorite way to flirt.

“I like a man whose direct,” Kakashi said, shifting his stance to lean an elbow on the table. “But hmm,” he hummed. “I don’t know.”

He gave Iruka a seemingly bored look, as if the obvious invitation to leave together was lost on him.

“Well, I like a man whose decisive, so I guess that rules you out.”

Kakashi let out a hard, surprised laugh. He downed the rest of his beer, and took Iruka by the hand, pulling him out of the bar without a word.

APRIL: (from A New Chapter)

“I don’t know how to put this,” Sakumo started, “but… what the hell is that?”

Kakashi looked at where his Father was pointing.

“Uh… a diaper…?” Kakashi guessed, not sure where this was going. They had about a million others, in every color and pattern you could imagine, folded and stacked in the closet. Iruka wanted to go the re-usable route, and several of his students mother’s were eager to gift them. Kakashi had been less than thrilled by the extra laundry.

“Yes. It’s a diaper, Kakashi. Very good. Tell me, did you have both eyes closed when you put it on?”

MAY: (From Cake Substitution No Jutsu)

“What’s this?” Iruka asked as Kakashi entered the kitchen, a fully dressed Tomo whizzing past them both.

“Ah, it’s a backpack,” Kakashi said, crossing over to Iruka excitedly. “I saw it on display in a shop window while doing Gai’s scavenger hunt. Its arms and legs are the straps, so when you wear it, it looks like it’s riding on your back.”

Iruka smiled, turning it around in his hands, noticing the zipper and a few pockets.

“That’s actually pretty ador—”

Iruka stopped speaking. The tail was tightly curled up inside plastic casing still.

“Kakashi,” Iruka said, feeling his eyebrow twitch. “Is this… is this a leash?”

“No. It’s a Puppy Pal… with an exceptionally long tail.”

“It’s a leash,” Iruka deadpanned. “A leash for a child.”

“You put Tomo inside a barrier the other day as a playpen,” Kakashi said, a matter of factly. “Why can’t I have some help controlling her?”

“That’s… that’s different!” Iruka exclaimed, feeling his cheeks heat in contradiction. “Would you like it if I put you on a leash, Kakashi?”

Iruka regretted it the second it came out of his mouth. He could practically see the wolfish grin forming beneath Kakashi’s mask.

JUNE: (from Use Your Imagination)

They laid in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the night through the cracked window—distant cars on the street, a lone dog barking, upbeat music wafting from a floor below them.

Kakashi never wished for time to stop. In fact, he tried to keep himself as busy as possible—he chose a career that ate up most of his life for a reason. But right now? He wished time didn’t exist, hyperaware of how quickly it would pass before Iruka was back on a plane tomorrow.

He traced circles into Iruka’s lower back, watching as the brown skin pressed against his broke out in a wave of goosebumps. Iruka shivered, and then shifted, and Kakashi wondered if he was falling asleep.

He selfishly continued his adorations, wanting to keep Iruka in this realm with him for a little while longer. He expanded his rake, sliding his fingers up Iruka’s spine, skirting around his scar, and back down again.

Kakashi wasn’t one to believe in divine intervention, or soulmates. He’d acted in enough corny films to almost make him hate the notion entirely. But the fact that a man as perfect as Iruka had come into his life so serendipitously—and just as scarred as he was—was something he couldn’t overlook.

It made Kakashi’s heart ache with want, before that ache traveled down, and curled into his gut.

JULY: (from Love Me As You Are)

“And then you demeaned their lives by calling them your soldiers—”

“—is that not what they are?!” Kakashi cut across him, getting upset. “You’re as much a part of this system as I am, sensei! We both know the truth of it, whether we like it or not. I just called it by it’s name.”

“But they’re people too, Kakashi! Kids. They’re so much more than soldiers…”

“That’s not how I was treated,” Kakashi said before he could catch himself.

Iruka’s mouth fell open with a punched sound.

“Kakashi…”

His tone was soft and free of the anger it held a moment ago.

“Forget I said that,” Kakashi said, turning away, his cheeks heating up—the last thing he wanted was Iruka’s pity. “It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” Iruka said, shaking his head as he took a step towards him. “I’m not going to forget you said that. It does matter because you matter. You deserved to have somebody stand up for you too, Kakashi. I’m so sorry Konoha failed you.”

Kakashi’s eyes burned with tears—he bit his tongue, refusing to let them fall. Those words pierced him straight through the heart. It was everything he never knew he needed to hear.

AUG:

um I didn’t write anything this month because my wife and I separated annnd my whole life was uprooted as I moved to a different country ksjdhgkdsj

SEPT: (from I’ll Fall, If You Do)

Their relationship was going really well. There were days where Kakashi still turned him away, usually corresponding with the mornings he had therapy. It was frustrating, because Iruka just wanted to be there for him, for Kakashi to open up to him completely, but he didn’t push. He knew that would only make it worse. They didn’t fight anymore, but Iruka regularly had to correct the language Kakashi used towards himself, and sometimes it was irritating for the both of them.

But mostly… it was amazing. Their chemistry was incredible. Electric. And not just in the bedroom—they were never far from each other, drawn in like magnets, grounded by a simple touch or brush of hands. Kakashi hadn’t even left the room twenty minutes ago, and already Iruka felt the pull.

He jumped up from his seat and went to go find him.

OCT: (From Language Gap)

Iruka glanced out the bus window, his body instinctively knowing where they were about to pass. The building was still empty twenty years later, the brick still scorched, and Iruka’s nightmares were still plagued by the fire despite not being there when it broke out. He’d been sent on a delivery on foot — one steaming container of karē udon — two blocks away. He delivered to the same old lady everyday, and she always kept him longer than necessary, pressing sweets into his palm. When he had come back, the noodle shop was aflame. In his shocked state, he distantly heard something about a grease fire, before he was whisked away by the hand by his childhood friend Asuma, living with him and his father from that day on.

Iruka sighed and stood up, making his way towards the door since his stop was next. He really wished the city would do something about the building. Every time he saw it, it made him feel oddly exposed and vulnerable, like his past was staring straight at him.

He shook his head a little and stepped off the bus.

NOV: (From Brand New Sound)

Kakashi watched in stunned silence for a moment, trying to get his heartbeat under control as color effortlessly flowed from the artist’s hand onto the brick. Whoever this was, they had sort of become one of Kakashi’s heroes. People always said meeting your heroes was never a good idea—bound to be disappointing—because it brought them down to a human level.

But that was precisely what attracted Kakashi to this artist in the first place—the sheer, raw, humanness. The way they tackled hard emotions and vulnerability, baring everything through their work for others to see. It was honest and transformative, and Kakashi spent more nights than he could ever count wandering the streets when he couldn’t sleep, hoping to catch a mural he’d never seen before it was painted over. Sometimes he did, and sometimes he’d sit in front of ones he already knew and found new meaning in them.

DEC: (from Perks of Promotion)

“But why now?” Iruka insisted. “Why ask me out now? Right after I’ve made tokubetsu jounin? When we’ve known each other for years?”

Oh.

Kakashi paused, the realization dawning on him. He didn’t blame Iruka for being suspicious of his intentions; he’d heard the way people said ‘the chuunin sensei’ or ‘the chuunin desk worker’ like it was some kind of insult. It always pissed him off.

Kakashi stared at his feet for a moment before lifting his head again, leveling Iruka with a serious stare. “Because I didn't think I’d live past 21. Because it took me an obscenely long time to become a barely functioning adult. Because I never had the guts before… I-I still don’t, not really, if you can’t tell by how much I’m fumbling around here,” he said with a nervous laugh.

#kakairu #my fic #hatake kakashi/umino iruka #this is VERY long #i dont expect ppl to read it lmao #but it was really fun #*sweats* yeah i picked one sentence.....#also WOW #i published something every month (sometimes twice!!)#except for august #which is... understandable #this was a really cool idea #thanks for tagging me rika :D #writer meme

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