#i don’t understand why some people are so upset about all this

[gr7mes]

NERVOUS “you’ve got me nervous to speak.” carl grimes x fem!reader

tags: angst to fluff, use of y/n, cussing

a/n: back from the dead!! sorta based on nervous by the nbhd, and there’s also a little tsitp steven and taylor action that i used for inspiration. lyrics r in bold + italics or in between paras. enjoy lovelies!!

the bond between you and carl was truly inseparable. you two had been through it all together, and never once had either of you thought about ending it all.

that was until now.

god, you don’t know how you found yourself in this situation. he’s just a friend. he’s always been just a friend. that’s what you believed, and that’s what you always told people. 

so how come, all of a sudden, he started becoming more than that? how come, out of the blue, you started getting butterflies at his gaze? it was an unfamiliar feeling, and you didn’t like it. you didn’t like it at all. 

you didn’t wanna do anything to jeopardize your beloved friendship, especially over something so dumb. you weren’t gonna lose everything all because of a stupid crush. so, after ages of decision making, you finally set your mind on a reasonable solution.

should i be quiet?

you were just gonna take some time to yourself. you were gonna stop talking to him for a bit. that’s all you needed, just some space. it couldn’t be that hard to lose feelings. besides, he would understand, right?

he in fact did not understand. “wanna come over? i just finished reading that comic you wanted.” he said, a grin plastered onto his face. “not today.” you quickly shut him down, and you could see the happiness on his face slowly fade away.

“oh, that’s fine. tomorrow?” you felt so bad. you really did wanna hang out with him, but you had to push away these feelings first. “i just need some time to myself for a while.”

your felt your heart pang when you looked at his expression. he gave you a slight smile, attempting to mask his disappointment. but you knew him. you knew him well enough to know he was upset. “yeah, i get it. i’ll see you later y/n.” he said, walking away. all of the energy he had when he approached you was long gone now.

it had been days, weeks even. you hadn’t uttered a word to him. so why wasn’t it working? why did you still long for him? it was so frustrating. 

not to mention, you were a mess. you would often find yourself with your head buried deep within your pillow, sniffling as tears flowed down your cheeks. on top of that, you weren’t getting enough sleep. you just missed carl. 

you figured the best thing you could do for yourself was to just get some fresh air. after all, it was no use trying to fix stuff with carl, you already fucked it all up. 

you took in the breeze, as you fiddled with your fingers. if it was a normal day, you would’ve been happy. you loved the cold, but today it was different. today, it made you feel numb. it made everything worse. 

you tried getting it off your mind. you tried to think about other things, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the look he had on his face the last time you talked to him. his smile was wiped clean off his face, and it was all your fault. 

you started to feel your eyes prick with tears. a single drop slowly traveled down your face, and you quickly wiped it off with your sleeve. 

you just wanted to cry, but you weren’t gonna let yourself do it out in the public. after all, once you started crying, you weren’t gonna stop. so, you turned around and picked up the pace. you were headed back home, where you could be vulnerable. 

your head was faced down, trying to hide your glassy eyes from anyone who could potentially see. “y/n?” you hear someone call out to you. the voice sounded familiar, and you instantly knew who it was without even lifting your head in the slightest. 

it was carl. you had to get away. just pretend you didn’t hear him, you thought to yourself. your footsteps quickened, until you heard his pleading voice once again. 

“just talk to me. please. is it something i said? i’m sorry for whatever i did.” 

“you didn’t do anything. it’s me. it’s all my fucking fault because my stupid self caught feelings for her best friend.” you wanted to say, but you restrained yourself. 

you finally came to a stop, turning around to face him. as soon as you met his gaze, you wanted to cry the hardest you’d ever cried before. 

he slowly stepped closer to you until his taller figure was in close in front of you. “can you please talk to me? you know i won’t get mad. you know i’m listening. so please, just please tell me what’s been bothering you.” he begged, his eyes softening. 

you let out a sigh, still sniffling. “it’s not your fault carl.” you said, your voice barely audible. “then what is it?” he said, keeping his voice at the same, calm volume. 

“i-i like you, and it’s really embarrassing.” you confess. you instantly regret your choice of words when you see a frown start to appear on his face. “i don’t know what i was expecting, but that was really fucking mean.” he says, about to walk away.

“no, carl. it’s embarrassing because of how much i like you.” there it is. that’s what you’ve been holding in. it felt weird hearing the words coming out of your mouth. “how is that embarrassing?” he questioned, the tender look started to come back on his face. 

ask me and ill tell you how i’ve been

“i- it’s like i forgot how to act around you. i’m always scared i’m gonna mess up. you’ve got me nervous to speak.”

that was the last thing you managed to get out before he pulled you into his chest for a tight hug. the dam holding your tears back broke.

the wetness stained his shirt, but he didn’t care. he rubbed your back with his arm, soothing you. you missed his embrace, the feeling you would get when you were in his arms felt heavenly.

after a few more seconds of the hug, carl shifted his hands to your shoulders. he softly pushed you back a little bit to get a look at your face.

he reached for your face to wipe any tears. “m’ sorry for ignoring you.” you said, voice soft and quiet. he shook his head, giving you a gentle smile. 

“you’re okay sweet girl, don’t worry about it.” he said. “i-it’s not okay. i ignored you for so long, i just cut you off like that. without a single warning. it was so inconsiderate and i’m really sor-” 

hush, baby, don’t you say another word

“you never shut up do you?” he said, cutting you off mid sentence before he crashed his lips onto yours. your eyes widened, and your movements froze before you slowly adjusted to the kiss. your eyes fluttered closed before you hesitantly tilted your head to get closer.

this was a new experience for the both of you, but it felt like he had years of practice. the way his hands made their way around your body, it sent shivers down your spine.  

after what seemed like an eternity, you both pulled away. the sounds of your mixed heavy breaths filled the air. carl’s hand reached for your face before he wiped your slightly smudged chapstick. 

he then tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. the gesture made the butterflies in your stomach act up more than they ever had in your life. 

i got goosebumps all over me

“next time, just let me know what’s on your mind, yeah?” he asks. “okay.” you say, looking at him with pure admiration. “that’s my girl.” 

[effwon]

'cause i don't think that they'd understand || ln4 x reader (Part 1)

Summary: Lando just wants to walk down to the garage before the Miami race with you by his side. George and Carmen walked in together, Alex and Lily walked in together, so why can't you, as well? Despite your self-consciousness, you agree to walk hand-in-hand with him down to the garage right before the big race, but it's a much harder ask for you than anyone could ever realize.

Plus-size (she/her) Reader x Lando Norris

Warnings: Brief mentions of nausea/being sick, panic, reader is plus-sized and very down on herself about it, weight mentions, ect.

Characters: Lando Norris (your boyfriend) and feat Oscar Piastri as a last minute saving grace for you.

Rating: G, for now.

“I want you to walk down to the garage with me.”

You blink in surprise, Lando’s words are so sudden and so firm that it makes goosebumps raise on your skin. Walk to the garage with him? But that would mean…

“What? Why?” you ask, folding down the page in the book you’re reading, before placing it down softly on the table beside you. A slugging, churning feeling arises in your gut as you realize exactly what it is he’s asking of you. 

“What do you mean ‘why’? You’re my girlfriend, I want you to walk with me into the garage.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And, perhaps, for any other woman in this world it might just be.

But it isn’t for you. This is quite possibly one of the most difficult things he could ever ask you to do, and that alone makes you feel horrible. Lando deserves a normal girlfriend, who can react normally to very normal situations. Not someone who makes his life even more difficult than it already is.

You sigh heavily, knowing if you refuse you will just upset him. “I - are you sure you want to be seen with me? People will talk and they won’t be nice…” “Babe, we’ve had this conversation before. Just one walk down to the garage with me, that’s all I’m asking.”

You frown again, daring to look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a desperation in his eyes, something that tugs at your heartstrings. What Lando doesn’t realize is that the backlash won’t fall too heavily on him - but on you…?

Oh, the fans and the media will eat you up. Lando is dating a fat girl? That will decorate the tabloid headlines for days, perhaps even weeks or months. The thought alone makes you sick. But how can you say no to him when he’s so earnest, when he wants to show you off, regardless if you deserve it or not?

“Yeah, okay.” You finally reply, looking away from Lando and down to the floor. He notices this, however, and kneels down in front of you, grabbing one of your hands in both of his own. His hands are so warm and so immediately comforting, working to ease the rapid beat of your heart in your chest.

“It’ll be okay. I promise. And just think, you’ll finally be able to come see the garage and paddock!” His voice is so cheerful, so genuinely happy and excited for you to be there with him. It’s touching, to say the least, but you are loath to admit that your excitement level is not nearly on par with his. Not even slightly.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve wanted to see them for so long.” The lack of enthusiasm in your voice does dull the excitement in his eyes, but he holds steady. Admirable, really. A trait you wish you could share with him.

“It’s almost time. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready, and we can walk down in about an hour?”

An hour? Well - here’s hoping you can actually make yourself look even somewhat presentable in such a short amount of time.

“You’ll help me pick out my dress, right?” you ask.

The light immediately comes back to his eyes, and he beams at you with the very same smile that won your heart the night you met him.

“Of course! Fashion show time!”

~~

Lando ends up picking the teal colored sundress, something that suits your taste and simultaneously compliments some of your key features. It fits well, with no need for you to suck in your stomach to make it look nicer or more appealing, and hides some of your less than desirable attributes (the rolls, god, the rolls) with ease. 

You feel comfortable enough, with only a light amount of makeup on your face, and your feet are settled into white flats instead of the heels you had originally picked out. Lando liked them as well, but urged you to go for something more comfortable and carefree.

You genuinely do feel okay, but the bitter taste of anxiety still stirs the acid of your stomach as you think about the amount of eyes that will be on you and Lando in a few moments.

“Hey beautiful,” Lando says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. On instinct, you suck in your stomach to try and lessen the circumference of your belly. Lando tenses, but he doesn’t push the issue, keeping you nestled safely in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “You just about ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you reply softly, leaning only a portion of your weight back against him. He doesn’t let go for a few moments, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear. 

“I’m proud of you. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re only doing this for me, but I hope you can manage to enjoy it as well. You may not want the world to know you’re mine, but I do.” Lando explains, nipping at your ear with gentle teeth. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you cannot help but smile at his antics.

“Well, we’ll see what all the news sources are saying in the morning. You know for a fact my issue isn’t being seen with you, it’s you being seen with me.”

“Who cares what they say? How I feel about you is what matters, not what the public thinks about a relationship they know nothing about.” Lando’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument - likely because this IS an argument the two of you have had time and time again. 

You open your mouth to respond, but Lando’s PR Agent gestures a bit frantically at you both and all of a sudden, Lando is no longer behind you but at your side, lacing your fingers together. 

“Deep breath, babe. It’s go time.”

Oh.

You take a deep breath and hold it in your lungs, fearful that if you breathe at all, you might mess this up entirely. Lando’s hand is warm and firm in your own, steady while your mentality feels anything but. There’s no time to prepare yourself for the walk - Lando is moving and on instinct, you move fluidly alongside him. Your heart is racing impossibly hard in your chest and somehow only gets faster as you step out onto the grass and the sun shines down upon you and Lando like a blinding spotlight.

You hear the clicking of cameras before you see the media snapping shots of you and Lando as you walk hand-in-hand towards the McLaren garage. You can already hear the shouts of fans at home, screaming about how Lando could possibly be dating someone so fat and unattractive when he’s literally a celebrity and could have anyone he wanted. You can see the offensive articles, wondering what’s gone wrong in Lando’s head to be dating someone so average and so unathletic when all of the other drivers are dating what could be (and in some cases ARE) models. 

So many eyes are on you both, and you still haven’t been able to take a breath just yet. You feel Lando’s hand squeeze yours, but you are unable to squeeze back. You just want to be at the garage and tucked back away from the eyes of the media so you can regain your bearings.

And then finally, after what feels like a marathon of a walk, you feel the grass turn to solid ground beneath your feet and the smells of the garage hit your senses like a brick wall. Everything slowly comes back into focus and you realize you’ve finally made it to the other side. Your gut is churning, but you let out the breath you have been holding since you took your first step out and it eases some of the bubbling tension in your chest.

Lando’s hand leaves yours fairly suddenly, but he immediately pops up in your line of sight, beaming at you like you’ve just handed him the sun, the moon, and all the stars. You swallow thickly, hoping to keep down the nausea that threatens you, and offer up a tight smile of your own.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks, pulling you in by your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You are still within sight of the media cameras and you hear a few clicking somewhere off to your right, which does little to help quell the nausea. 

“It was fine, yeah.” You say, and it’s incredible just how weak your own voice sounds. “Can we, uh - can we go someplace in the back for a minute? Away from the cameras?”

“Of course,” Lando says, and concern begins to blossom on his features. His eyebrows furrow, gaze focused solely on you as you still try your best to smile at him. “I have to get changed into my kit anyway.”

Lando’s hand is back in yours instantly, and he gently guides you through crew members and winding hallways until you’re far enough away from all of the commotion that you can barely hear it anymore. Your breath is shaky as you inhale, but the relief is almost immediate now that you are out of the public eye.

“Are you okay?” Lando asks after a few seconds of studying your face. “I’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?”

“No, no, no.” you interrupt him, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. “It’s just a lot. I’m not used to these kinds of things, not like you are. And there were so many cameras…”

“You learn to ignore the cameras.” He says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry about them, they’re just an annoyance anyway. You’re here to watch me race, and I promise you the McLaren crew will take great care of you while you do.”

Your smile feels a bit more genuine now as the nerves begin to drift off. You know you’ll have cameras in your face likely the entire time Lando is racing, but knowing that you have the support of McLaren while you’re here helps a bit. Lando has been with these people for years now, you can only imagine they’ve grown quite close in that time. 

“I’m sure they will. I - uh - is there a bathroom back here somewhere?” You look around a bit frantically, overcome by the sudden intense nausea that hits you now that the worst of the nerves have tapered off. Sweat builds on your forehead and you begin to feel a bit clammy and lightheaded, but Lando either doesn’t notice, or you’ve managed to keep yourself steady enough as to not rouse suspicion. 

“Oh, yeah, I’ll take you there,” he says, looking around to gain his bearings. He circles his fingers around your wrist and leads you back towards the heart of the garage, but stops before you get to the more heavily trafficked areas. It’s a small, unassuming restroom meant for one person at a time, but it will do. “Here you are. I actually need to change, so I’ll come back for you once I’m set up, okay?”

“Sounds good.” You confirm, leaning in to kiss him when you see him do the same. He offers you a comforting smile and then takes off into the clamor of the garage to get himself ready for the race. You watch him weave through crowds of crew and media personnel, and once he’s no longer within your sight, you turn around and rush into the bathroom without a moment to spare.

The nausea is almost overpowering, and you can’t even make it to the toilet before you feel your stomach rolling. You grasp desperately at the vanity, emptying your nerves into the sink with a violent heave and a shudder. Panic is starting to claw its way up your throat now that you’ve been sick, and you grip the sides of the vanity so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The nausea, thankfully, goes away now that you’ve emptied your stomach into the sink, but a much worse feeling creeps up to take its place.

You reach forward with trembling hands and turn on the sink, cleaning out the mess you’ve just made. Thankfully, a few splashes of water around the sink (and a few swishes in your mouth) manage to clean out everything so there’s no evidence left of your struggle.

You back yourself against the wall now, feeling your heart beating faster all over again, and the sweat begins to feel cold on your forehead. Panic is no new sensation, but you can’t help but curse the timing of this attack. It makes sense - given the overstimulation and the nervousness you just fought your way through, but you had hoped deep in your heart that you would be able to handle this without a breakdown.

You could not have been more wrong.

You begin to take deep, shuddering breaths at far too rapid a pace. You know you have to get your breathing under control, or this will spiral until you’re pathetically hyperventilating alone in a McLaren bathroom. You rush forward to turn the water back on, hoping that splashing some on your face might help snap you out of it, when you hear the handle of the restroom door jiggle.

Your stomach lurches again when you realize in your haste, you forgot to lock the door.

“Yeah, mate. I’ll be back in a few.” You hear a familiar voice say, muffled slightly by the noise buzzing around the garage.

As soon as the person steps inside the restroom and your eyes meet, you feel like you could be sick again. It’s none other than Oscar Piastri, Lando’s teammate and friend at McLaren, and he’s staring at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“Hey,” he greets, and it’s so incredibly soft - as if he might be speaking to a cornered, wounded animal. “Hey, are you alright?”

You can’t reply to him just yet - your breathing is out of control and nausea is hitting you again from the depths of absolute hell. As if this day couldn’t have possibly gotten any worse, you WOULD have a mental breakdown in front of Lando’s teammate.

You simply stare back at him in shock, like he’s the most terrifying thing you could possibly see, and you finally manage to choke out a weak and pitiful, “No.”

You watch as Oscar gently locks the door behind you both - a blessing, really, to keep anyone else from walking in on you in such an embarrassing state. He keeps his expression neutral, only taking one step into the bathroom with his hands palm-up to show he means no harm.

“You need to breathe, okay? Think you can breathe with me?” Oscar asks, his voice echoing in the small space. He swallows thickly, another sound that’s easy to pick up in the confined space, but he patiently waits for you to respond.

“I don’t - I don’t know -” you reply, hands slapping against the wall as you try to find something to grip onto for balance. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t we give it a try, at least?” Oscar tries again, looking far more concerned than you think he has any right to be. He hardly knows you, after all.

“I - I can -” but the words die on your lips as your legs give out beneath you. You fall to your knees on the tile floor and that’s when Oscar jumps quickly into action. You feel unfamiliar arms wrap around your shoulders, a cushion to keep your head from smashing against the floor, and the last thing you see are Oscar’s frightened eyes above you, the echo of your name frantically erupting from the back of his throat as your vision fades out.

[lovelyjasmari]

Sweet Dreams for a Fair Queen aka VIL GET BEHIND ME

Hello everyone!

Currently, I’m still working on my addendum to my pomefiore arc analysis with the new content from the most recent JP update. I’m still waiting for all the translations to come in but I’m hoping to have it done by Monday or Tuesday. Honestly, I found that there is SO MUCH going on in this most recent update both good and bad. Too much to include in this addendum. Hence this separate post. 

Ironically, while my analysis was mainly focused on Vil and how he sees himself, the one thing from the most recent update that really needed a separate post was Vil himself. In this most recent update, we see the dreams of Vil, Epel, and Rook. I might talk about Epel’s later, and I’m saving Rook's for the addendum. But Vil’s…my god…SO MUCH to unpack, and unfortunately, none of it is good.

I don’t know if Yana was hit with a crowbar and developed amnesia while writing, or if she realized she did too good a job portraying the tragedy of Vil’s arc and had to backpedal, or if Disney took issue with Vil being too sympathetic because this is still a game based on villains. Either way, the way Vil is portrayed in his dream is SUCH a departure from his actual personality and morals that it bordered like a parody. His cruelty to Neige, how he spoke to Yuu and the others, and his generally conceded personality might be how a good deal of the fandom sees him, but this was NOT the true Vil Scheonheit we have come to know over the last four years. 

Unfortunately, Vil’s dream seems to have done even more damage to how this fucking fandom views him. I’ve seen many posts here and on the bird app saying how Vil’s dream proves his cruel personality isn’t just headcanon and that he is not beating the mean girl allegations anymore. It’s extremely upsetting because it’s true. Honestly, Vil is NOT beating the allegations and this time, it’s canon that is fucking him over. But before we dive deeper, and before I get too heated again, let’s look at Vil’s dream and how and why it goes against his established character so terribly. Finally, I will share with you all my own ideas of how I imagine Vil’s perfect dream would ACTUALLY play out. Obviously, spoilers ahead for the most recent update.

~~~

First, let’s quickly assess Vil’s character, to better understand why I’m so pissed. As a dorm leader, Vil is meticulous, tenacious and VERY altruistic. He genuinely cares for his dorm mates (and seems to have a soft spot for all the freshmen) and wants to see them become better people. And he goes to great lengths to see this through. Sometimes his methods come off as harsh and overwhelming but at some point even his most disgruntled subordinates come to understand why Vil is the way he is.

As an actor, he is equally tenacious but more importantly, desires that ALL his success come from his own efforts and not because he’s the son of such a famous actor and producer. To the point Vil went to the length of actually changing his legal last name to further distance himself from Eric’s legacy. It would be so easy for Vil to coast off his father’s success. Eric could probably secure for his son any role that he wants, including the heroic one that Vil so deeply desires. But such would be going against every value Vil holds and would open him up to accusations of nepotism. Further adding to the villainous image the public falsely has of him. 

And as for his dynamic with Epel, I know this is an unpopular opinion but the way Vil treats him is NOT abusive. I understand there is a cultural aspect to Vil’s issue with Epel’s speech patterns that was made worse by how EN translated it but even with that in mind, Vil’s demands aren’t really that unreasonable. He makes it clear from the jump that he takes no issue with his dialect and it could be argued that Vil being so hard on him is out of care for Epel. What do you think would have happened if Epel took up such an attitude with any other NRC student? He would regularly be getting his ass beat and Vil is trying to prevent that. Honestly I have a lot of opinions on Vil’s dynamic with Epel but they’ll have to wait for another time. 

And even then, it’s been implied a few times that Vil tries to help Epel out in ways that Epel doesn’t completely hate. Even if Vil doesn’t approve of Epel’s misogyny, he does accept his interests and understands he desire to be stronger. It’s further implied in Epel’s dorm vignette when Vil tasks him with creating the magical wheel for his film project because he knows that Epel would enjoy it.

So as we can see, Vil is probably one of the more upstanding characters in twst. His crimes, if you can call them that, can mostly be regulated by misunderstandings and he actually ends up subverting many of the expectations we’d have for a character type like his. Even when he overblots, how it happens is so removed from the other overblots (and even the ones that come after) that it’s actually incredibly tragic. 

Now, let’s look at how Vil is portrayed in his perfect dream world. 

Terribly, to put it lightly. Though I understand now one of the reasons we got the Tapis Rouge event. Anyway, in Vil’s dream, he’s still a mega famous actor, beloved by many fans. The main difference between this and real life is Vil himself. When away from his adoring fans, he’s shown to be conceited, arrogant and mean spirited. He speaks very insultingly to Yuu and the other characters and even threatens to curse them as well. Neige is also his assistant in this dream and Vil is downright abusive to him. Even Miranda Priestly was a kinder boss to Andy than Vil is to Neige here.

Later when Yuu and co attempt to wake Vil up, he ends up having another dream of the VDC. In this one, Vil actually SUCCEEDS in poisoning Neige, resulting in NRC Tribe taking first place. Despite the fact that this again goes against every value Vil holds and it was actually his guilt of what he could have done to Neige that caused his overblot in the first place. And despite the fact that Vil would be revolted at VDC victory at such a cost. EVEN MORE than if he had won with their imperfect performance. 

All in all, he seems more like a caricature of his archetype than the actual kind and complex character he actually is. The complete opposite of EVERYTHING we’ve seen from Vil thus far. Naturally, I took great issue with this, not only because this just feeds into the fandom’s misconceptions of Vil, but because it’s just not accurate. AT ALL! THIS IS LIKE A BAD FUCKING FANFICTION! 

Okay, okay, before I get too hot under the collar, let me actually explain why this is such an awful portrayal of a character I hold so dear to my heart. 

Departure from his canon personality: Despite being a famous actor and model celebrated for his incredible beauty, Vil is actually a very humble person. His nature is not naturally mean-spirited, and he’s not a spoiled brat. Even when people piss him off, he’ll make his displeasure known; make no mistake about that! But he’s always respectful and, in the instance during the Tapis Rouge event, sometimes even encouraging. Above everything else, Vil is never harder on people than he is on himself.

Oversimplifying/invalidating his disdain for Neige: Now I understand that Neige being Vil’s abused assistant is a reference to Snow White being the Evil Queen’s scullery maid. But based on everything we know and have seen from both Vil and Neige, the reference does a disservice to both their characters. I would even argue if the reference was really needed in the first place because Vil’s disdain for Neige was never so simple as just petty jealousy. There is an actual, unfair dichotomy between them that places Neige above Vil in the eyes of people like Rook and, ultimately, the public at large. Vil has every right to resent this and were he treated more fairly, he might even be more kindly disposed towards Neige. Because Vil isn’t a petty person. Neige clearly admires Vil and Vil at least respects Neige but the dichotomy between them unfortunately prevents them from having a healthier dynamic. I don’t know if this will make sense but I don’t believe Vil hates Neige, what he hates is what he represents. 

Disney vs Yana: Now, I wanna preface what I’m about to say next as it being COMPLETELY speculation of my own. I have no hand in creating twst and have no idea what goes into it beyond what Yana talks or tweets about. But I’ve always felt that Disney takes issue with their more heroic characters portrayed in a morally gray light. It would explain why we haven’t seen Prince Rielle, why we haven’t seen Farena despite there being a whole ass Sunset Savanna event, and why everything about Neige’s character actually works against him and why he should be seen as the fairest one of all. In this case, I wonder if Vil’s ooc dream could have resulted from Disney meddling. It wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened in a game Disney has a creative hand in; anyone who is a Kingdom Hearts fan and played  KH3 knows this all too well. If that’s the case, this actually makes me extremely worried when we see the future overblotee dreams. ESPECIALLY Jamil’s dream, if you know, you know. 

For the most part, those are all the things I disliked about Vil’s dream. But now, in the interest of not ending this post on a completely sour note, let me paint for you all a picture. Two in fact since Vil had two different dreams in canon. 

Scenario 1: Vil never sees Neige’s VDC rehearsal. He and his teammates review the rehearsal footage as he originally intended, and he’s not put in a position to be retraumatized again. So he doesn’t overblot and instead, NRC Tribe gives a perfect performance through and through. Even when Vil does see Neige on stage, he knows he’s given the best performance he can and still votes for his team. NRC Tribe wins and Vil is celebrated for his incredible talent and absolutely beautiful dedication. The first step in Vil finally seeing himself with value outside the villainous persona people have projected upon him.

Scenario 2: This one I like a little better. Soon after graduation, Vil is offered the lead role in the Legendary Sword sequel Adela tried to sign him up for in Book 5. He plays the role of the heroic prince phenomenally and people are wowed by how much tenacity he brings to the role. As a heroic prince, he's charming and snarky, no-nonsense but with a heart of gold. Bringing a lot of his personality to the role but in a way that makes the audience relate with him regardless of his otherworldly beauty. Proving that he has what it takes to be a hero and stand on the stage until the end, he ALWAYS had was it takes. Neige would still exist in his perfect dream world and may still be in the film. Not as a rival/villain, though, but maybe as a supporting character. But with Vil finally getting the recognition he deserves, his dynamic with Neige would likely become healthier over time. 

In the end, Vil is an incredibly misunderstood character, probably the most misunderstood character in twst after Kalim. Unfortunately, this most recent JP update did little to help his case. But either way, I at least hope I did an adequate job at explaining why. And I hope that in the future, Vil’s complexities are more accepted and acknowledged. By both the fandom and the canon. 

[whimsicalwordsmith53]

Hello! I’m whimsicalwordsmith53 AKA @call-me-izzy-10

For now I’ve been on a writer’s block stump since February. But that has changed thanks to @freaky-frankhie/@clowny-frankhie and their Disney Villain Reverse Isekai (thanks, I learned a new word with a new meaning. Usually I would call it “Jumanji’d) Since (he/she/they???) are working on Part 3, I decided to make my own Part 4, it’s not canon to her AU so it doesn’t count, but I thought it would be interesting to add some additional information of ideas depending on how Part 3 is written just to keep the plot going. So hope you guys enjoy.

————————————————————

You slowly wake up to your senses as you turned off the blaring morning alarm on your phone. What a night. You didn’t get much sleep after having a “movie marathon” of watching ALL TWELVE MOVIES with the villains yesterday.

(With ChatGPT’s help, it’s an estimate of 16.92 hours.)

You weren’t sure how contemplated they were from now knowing the truth that their lives were scripted with no say about their existence being destined for failure by their nemesis’s hands. And that they’ll be nothing more than villains doomed for failure in an endless repeat.

And now the responsibility of them was now unintentionally handed to you to take care of the villains until somehow you are able to return them back from where they came from.

In all honesty, you didn’t like the idea of doing this alone. Even with the twelve of them being adults responsible for their own actions, chaos constantly follows wherever they go. Intentionally or not, hell will break loose between them somehow in some way in some form. And you were, without a doubt, mostly afraid that if you stepped outside of the house for a slight second, they unleashed their full chaos and destroy the house in blazing fire.

Or leave the house to cause chaos somewhere else. And you can’t chain them down to keep them from leaving because they don’t take “no” for an answer.

But thankfully last night, you made sure that all electronic doors are and regular doors were locked to keep them from escaping. You just hope that none of them attempted to escape last night and broke something trying to leave.

Immediately you get up from just thinking that. Quickly surveying the house for any damage that could have been done and being quiet as possible. You saw none of them awake yet and hoped that they were still in their rooms. You then sigh in relief and checked on the time on your phone that you took with you: 8:53 AM.

Tongue in cheek, you hesitated to call anyone you knew about this. You were worried about any of your friend’s (or family) reactions towards your situation and may try to exploit the villains for their own gain. You didn’t want them to be harmed by the villains or fan the flames to their own chaos.

As you looked through your contacts, you remembered you told one of your friends about the inherited mansion and that your boss’s death is how you received it. And you remembered their response very well:

“If he died in his home, would that make it a Haunted Mansion?” She laughs in amusement. “One soul down and 998 left to go!”

You couldn’t help but smile at that memory. With your finger hovered over her name, you dialed the number hoping that she will understand and not be mad or upset you’re putting her into your problem. Granted, you feel guilty, but who else would you trust for something like this? So far she’s the only one that knows of the Mansion and you knew damn well she’s too lazy to gossip nor has the heart to do it. If she has told people, without a doubt, you would have been receiving spam phone calls about your old colleagues begging for money.

You hear the phone ring as the receiver is near your ear. You pace in the kitchen as you cross your arms in worry. Then the phone picks up.

“Hello, Y/N,” she answers with a groggy tone through the phone. She’s not a morning person and you do feel bad for calling her this early in the morning. “Why are you calling me this early?”

“Hey Izzy,” you nervously chuckled. “I was hoping you could come to the mansion later. I need to ask you a favor from you when you get here.”

“Does it require burying a body?” She asked. Her voice still sounded like she was waking up that you couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or not.

‘No, but you might end up burying mine.’ You thought to yourself. “No, it’s not that. Something… something happened last night. In the Mansion. I accidentally caused an incident here and now I need help.” You were so hesitant from telling her.

“You promise you didn’t kill anyone?” She asks. “You’re not in trouble with any loan sharks or the IRS?”

“Absolutely not for either,” you continued, rubbing your forehead with your free hand. “Just please come to the mansion as soon as possible. I prefer to tell you when you get here.”

“Alright,” she says, now sounding worried. “I hope you’re doing okay.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay until you get here,” you tell her, hopefully.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon,” she says and hangs up. You sigh in relief but was still stressed out. As you turn to make your leave to start getting dressed before making breakfast.

The doctor stood in the entryway with a look of… concern? Resentment? Distrust? You couldn’t tell because you immediately jumped from just seeing him standing there, you weren’t expecting any one of them flocking to you so soon this early in the morning.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Dr. Facilier says somewhat politely. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you were calling somebody. You’re not planning on leaving us so soon are you?”

You shook your head in response. When it comes to the villains, you have to tell them the truth like it or not. Because the majority of them could sense a half baked lie if they heard one. Telling the truth is the only way to keep yourself alive and unharmed from them. They expect it from you and you have to give them what they want.

“No, I was calling a friend for help,” you admitted to the doctor. “I don’t think this is something I can handle alone.”

(To Be Continued…?)

————————————————————

DUN-DUN-DUN!!! That’s it for now, I don’t know when @freaky-frankhie/@clowny-frankhie is gonna post Part 3. But I’m not gonna make a full Part 4 until I see what’s next in her AU. Frankhie, if you ever find this and read it, thank you for blessing Tumblr with your Disney Villain AU, you have gotten me out of my writer’s block stump and I can’t wait to see what you offer more to the table. Take your time and I hope you’re having a good day. 😘

(@freaky-frankhie @clowny-frankhie)

[farmerlesbian]

hey im following up on your "lesbians and genderweird people" post.

do you also include people that are men as a part of their multi-gender expression? say a bigender person that is a woman and a man at once?

idk im probably thinking about it too hard but im just trying to wrap my head around it. just looking for straight (hah) answers about specifics. which i also see is a little futile cause gender is weird.

sorry if this line of questioning is uncomfortable to you.

anw i hope you have a good time and happy pride

thank you for actually asking haha instead of just jumping to big sweeping conclusions! 😅🥴

also happy pride! 🌈🧡💜

honestly i don’t know any bi-gender people! at least i don’t think i do haha i don’t ask every person i meet the details of their gender. so i don’t feel comfortable making any claims about them especially big sweeping claims.

to me, i cannot envision being comfortable being into someone that is aligned with manhood, in whatever way or terms they choose to use. for me, if I was, I would need to seriously consider whether the label Lesbian is accurate for me.

I think if someone is encountering this in their relationship, they should navigate it on an interpersonal level. by that I mean, figure out the labels and how to handle it as an individual for yourself and with the bi-gender or multi-gender person. Instead of on a like macro level “let’s define what Lesbian means” sort of deal.

I don’t believe that when talking about “Lesbianism can include attraction to nonbinary people” I am saying every nonbinary person. I’m saying it can include some nonbinary people. those who are cool with it and it makes sense for! not every person is gonna be okay with it, or does it make sense for, of course. nonbinary or genderweird or whatever term, they are very broad umbrellas and describe a wide variety of gender experiences.

It’s also important to keep in mind that people can describe their experiences for themselves. Different people are going to define their labels in different ways, sometimes in ways we disagree with. It’s important to be able to differentiate someone describing their own experience and defining things for themselves and defining a term broadly for everyone. And I mean this when seeing what other people are saying and also to keep in mind for oneself.

Hope this answers what you were asking and is helpful and makes sense! Also, remember that this is just my opinion and my position. I’m not like declaring this as a universal truth, I’m not the president of the lesbians lol. different lesbians will define their lesbianism for themselves. I can handle that even if I vehemently disagree lol

[phatcatphergus]

I understand why fit viewers are upset that what fit meant as a joke is being taken seriously, but like Tubbo didn’t know that. This is miscommunication the musical!!!! What the hell is Tubbo supposed to think when fit pulls foolish aside and asks if he really wants to work with tubbo? Like that seems really serious and genuine, especially bc he had to evesdrop to hear it! Like it’s really not that deep but to qtubbo it is.

I genuinely don’t think anyone is wanting fit dead or upset with him as a character (aside from not reaching out but that’s on qtubbo too), we just take things how qtubbo takes them and qtubbo overhearing someone asking if they actually want to be his friend while he’s already insecure is hurtful.

Not everything is negative about another character, we can be angsty and say how much we wish fit would reach out and be upset over what he’s saying while still liking him and understanding that the comment was meant to be jokier then how people took it. People view characters how the characters view characters, qtubbo was hurt so we’re hurt. Fit was joking so the huevos don’t see a problem. We all gotta understand that we come from different understandings and that’s okay!!!

[goldkirk]

.

[memehayes]

i don’t dislike jag as much as everyone else seems to these days but he’s gonna have to keep meme’s name out of his mouth or i’m gonna get ugly >:(

[allofuswantgwinam]

idk how we’ll ever have peace in this world when everyone just wants to retaliate with violence for everything. ‘It happened to me so I want revenge and idc if any innocent people get hurt/murdered in the process” I want fucking out lol of this world I am so serious

[softspiderling]

god, it's brutal out here | r.c.

summary:

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

OR; 5 times your friends share their unsolicited opinions about your and Rafe’s break up.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of c*caine

word count: 5,4k

author’s note: the long awaited sequel of so obsessed with your ex! this can be read as a standalone fic, but there are little easter eggs hidden all over, which will be more fun if you read the first part! it's a little bit longer than I had planned, but there was no way around it. I hope you enjoy it so so much!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Wheezie

“Hey Wheeze.”

You had accepted the facetime without looking at your phone, keeping it rested on a shelf while you were halfway into your closet, trying to find a dress.

“Does Rafe have a new girlfriend??”

Pausing, you shut your eyes, letting out a silent exhale before you picked up the phone, giving Wheezie a wry smile through the camera.

“Nice to see you too.”

The girl only looked at you, unimpressed and her arms crossed. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing you didn’t have a way out of this conversation. Grabbing your phone, you sat down on your bed.

“Yes, Rafe has a new girlfriend.”

“I knew it!” Wheezie shrieked, throwing her arms up, and you only shook your head in exasperation. The tendency for drama clearly was in the Cameron genes. Wheezie frowned, getting closer to your phone as she looked at you.

“Why am I more upset about this than you are?”

You bit back another sigh. “Because Rafe and I are broken up, Wheeze. He’s allowed to date other people, matter of fact, I’m really glad that he has moved on.”

“Bullshit!”

“Wheezie!”

Wheezie rolled her eyes, but she sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t even know her,” you sighed, rubbing your temple, feeling a migraine coming on.

“This is crazy!” Wheezie exclaimed. “You and Rafe never should’ve broken up in the first place! Rafe is probably only dating her to make you jealous so you’ll take him back.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, Wheezie clearly watched way too many rom-coms. She frowned at you.

“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, this is, like, super un-funny.”

“Because, Wheeze,” you started, plucking a feather out of your pillow. “This isn’t some 90’s rom-com where I see Rafe with Rebecca and suddenly a sad song is playing. This is real life. We are broken up.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Remember when we used to fight all the time? And I was just always sad?”

Wheezie was quiet, her lips still pursed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. Couples fight all the time, doesn’t mean you just have to break up.”

“Yes, couples fight all the time and they don’t have to break up, but it was the right decision for me and Rafe,” you said, your tone final. Wheezie looked at you, her frown slowly smoothing down.

“If you say so,” she muttered, not quite convinced. She stared down at her chipped finger nails, before she looked up again. “Can we still talk?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course we can still talk, why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know… I mean, you’re gonna find a new boyfriend and maybe he has a younger sister as well and then I’ll just be your ex’s younger sister.”

“Wheeze,” you said, fondly, knowing where she was coming from. You had been in her life for most of her teenage years, it must be weird not having you around anymore. “We’ll still talk, no matter if I get a new boyfriend or not, even if he has a cool younger sister, or even three.”

Wheezie smiled, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re so dumb.”

“Yet you still want me around,” you teased. “How about you, Sar and I go get some ice cream and then to the movies this weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Wheezie replied with a big smile. She paused when someone called her name from somewhere in the house, before she turned back to her phone. “I gotta go, Rose needs me. I’ll text you later.”

“Alright, Wheeze. Talk to you later, be good.”

Wheezie waved into the camera, before the facetime ended. Your smile dropped and you tossed your phone on your bed with a sigh, letting yourself fall back on your bed. Even six months after the break up it was still hard to talk about Rafe, and now that he had a new girlfriend, you thought it’d be easier to get over him, but all it did was hurt more. It didn’t help that Rafe was still texting you every now and then. Nothing scandalous, just small texts, but you never replied. You both agreed on no contact after the break up, because you thought it’d give you a better opportunity to heal. You should’ve known he’d break it. Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, swiping to your messages.

Rafe [11/30/23: 1:43 am]: couldn’t sleep. remember when we took out the boat at two am bc we both drank a red bull at ten?

Rafe [11/30/23: 11:22 am]: sorry, i was drinking. didn’t mean to text you. hope you’re doing good

Rafe [12/25/23: 2:44 pm]: merry christmas. it’s weird without you.

Rafe [01/01/24: 01:02 am]: happy new year’s.

Rafe [01/05/23: 9:56 pm]: are you really not gonna text me back?

Rafe [01/27/24: 3:07 am]: i miss you

Rafe [02/12/24: 12:05 pm]: saw you at the party last night. you looked so fucking pretty. took everything in me not to talk to you.

Rafe [03/01/24: 7:12 pm]: idk if you care or not, but i still wanted to let you know. i’m seeing someone

You never replied to any of the texts, knowing it was for the better. You could block him, but you never brought it over your heart to do so, telling yourself you wanted him to reach you in case of emergency, but deep down, you didn’t want to block him.

Just incase.

II Barry

“Want some C?” Barry asked as greeting, presenting Rafe a small baggie with white powder in it as soon as he walked onto the lot.

“Nah,” Rafe declined, already feeling jittery enough without it, “Won’t say no to a beer though.”

Barry let out a grunt, tossing the baggie on the table, disappearing inside the trailer. Rafe took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand over his buzzed head, bouncing his leg nervously. He had needed to get out of the house for a while. Ever since Rebecca pulled the picture out of the drawer, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.

Which is fucked up, really. He thought he got over you, he didn’t want to be the guy who thought about his ex while having a whole ass girlfriend. The door to the trailer opened with a slam, Barry exiting with two beer cans, handing Rafe one of them. The can was ice cold in his hands, and the cold liquid helped with his racing heart. He let out a sigh, rubbing a thumb over his eye brow. Rafe took another gulp of the beer, almost drinking the entire can in one go, while Barry watched him, assessing.

“You good?”

Rafe nodded, setting the can on the table.

“Yeah, jus’ stressed.”

“Work, or…?”

Barry trailed off without finishing his sentence and Rafe didn’t answer, wiping a finger over his jaw, which was clenched to the max.

Barry eyed him skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “How’s Mrs. Country Club?”

Rafe let out a loud sigh, tipping his head back, like he always did when he was annoyed with Barry.

“Barry, I don’t know if all the drugs you’re taking are starting to get to your memory, but we broke up.”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, kicking Rafe’s chair. Not hard enough for it to tip over, but hard enough for Rafe to grip onto the arm rests, glaring at his friend. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking ‘bout your new girl?”

“Because you always call her Becky,” Rafe pointed out, giving him a look.

Barry shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “You still know who ‘m talking about, so what’s the problem?”

“Problem is, it’s disrespectful. You know that’s not her name.”

“You’re still hung up on your ex while dating Becky, so who’s really disrespecting her?”

Rafe’s head shot up and the glare he sent Barry was deadly.

“Fuck this shit, and fuck you,” he snapped, pushing himself up from the chair, but Barry grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Boy, sit down.”

Rafe scowled at him, before sitting back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He did not come all the way out to the cut to get called out like this.

“If you came here to be coddled, you went to the wrong person.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Rafe muttered with an eyeroll. “Just wanted to let off some steam.”

“So?” Barry snorted, waving his hands around. “Steam away.”

Rafe scoffed, scooting down in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you think I want to think of her? I fucking hate feeling like this. Bex is nice, and she’s hot. And yet-”

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

“Nah, you don’t fucking get it, “ Rafe sneered, leaning his head in his hands. And he didn’t, not really. Which really wasn’t his fault. Rafe just didn’t want to talk about the break up with his friends. Physically couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t told anyone why you broke up. Just made it feel all to real, he guessed.

“Nah, you’re right, I don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head. “All I know is, one day you’re all fucking sunshine and the next you’re more emo than that Friday girl.”

“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his head to stare at Barry in confusion.

Barry waved him off. “You know, that freaky girl from Netflix with the black lipstick.”

“Do you mean Wednesday?”

“Yeah, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, all the same to me,” Barry huffed. “Point is, life’s too fucking short to do things that don’t make you happy.”

“Bex makes me happy.”

Barry gave him a long, hard look, squinting his eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

Rafe stared back at him before shaking his head, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the empty can in his hand, declining to answer, because he knew he couldn’t convince Barry.

He wasn’t even convinced himself.

III Topper

top [05/03/24: 4:06 pm]: gonna be at alex’s later tonight with rafe and rebecca just fyi if you wanted to come

mrs. rafe [05/03/24: 4:57 pm]: k, thanks for letting me know

—— NEW MESSAGE ——

top [05/04/24: 1:37 am]: can you pick me up?

It was Saturday night, a little past your bedtime for a night in. You were getting ready for bed, exiting the bathroom when your phone buzzed in your hand. Lifting it, you read the new text, not quite believing he’d make you do this. What the fuck was he thinking asking you to pick him up? Shaking your head in disbelief, you typed out an answer.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: topper no

Before you could put the phone away, your phone already buzzed with an answer, and you nearly didn’t want to read whatever lame ass excuse he came up with, your hand stilling when your eyes flit over his text.

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: please, i don’t want to get a ride with rafe and rebecca

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: she asked me so many questions about you and i can’t be around rafe rn or i’ll tell him

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:45 am]: … fine

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:47 am]: you’re so annoying

Cursing Topper and yourself for not going to bed sooner, you put on a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys and purse, typing out another text before you headed out of the house, getting into your car.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:49 am]: be there in ten

top [05/04/24: 1:50 am]: omg i owe you <3

Barely ten minutes later, you pulled up in front of Alex’ house, looking out for Topper, before you spotted him underneath a tree. You rolled to a stop next to him, giving him the most unimpressed look.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Topper groaned, getting into the car, shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, pulling off the curb without another word, driving towards Topper’s house.

“I’m really sorry for asking you to come get me, but Rafe was looking for me and I had too much to drink already to lie in his face,” Topper said, leaning his back against the headrest, shutting his eyes.

You desperately wanted to know what Rebecca had asked but you didn’t want to come off as the nosy ex, even if this was Topper. So as nonchalantly as you could, you asked: “What did you talk about?”

“Jesus,” Topper said, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me how you guys broke up and wanted details, too. Was super insistent, I was kinda scared actually.”

Okay, so just normal sussing out the ex, you could deal with that.

“What did you say?”

“That it was a mutual break up and I didn’t know why you broke up, just that you suddenly disappeared from each other’s lives.”

You sighed. That was the vaguest answer you’d ever heard.

“Why didn’t you just tell her why we broke up?”

Topper glanced at you, his brows knitted together.

“How can I tell her something I don’t know?”

“What?”

You slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Topper flying through the windshield because the idiot hadn’t buckled up, while you stared at him.

“What do you mean you don’t know why we broke up?”

“I don’t!” Topper exclaimed. “Rafe refuses to talk about it and you never told me either.”

“Because I assumed Rafe has told you! It’s been like six months!”

Blinking at Topper, it took you a few seconds to process, jumping when someone honked their horn at you, when you remembered you had stopped in the middle of the street.

“Shit,” you muttered, shifting gears to keep on driving, eyes flitting to Topper repeatedly.

“So…” he started. “Why did you guys break up?”

You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, letting out a deep breath. When you had left to come pick Topper up, you hadn’t expected having to tell him why you and his best friend had broken up.

“I was getting so worried about him. He was so stressed about the company every day, took home so much work and Ward was breathing down his neck to keep the numbers up. I told him that I thought he should take a step back, maybe take a break or something, tried to convince him of going on a trip or something, but the more I said, the more he seemed to be pushing himself into work. It got so bad that we were fighting basically every day, and it just wasn’t working anymore. It felt like we were going in circles.”

You cleared your throat when you felt yourself getting choked up, vision turning a little blurry from the tears in your eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Topper exclaimed, patting himself down, looking for some tissues.

“Don’t worry about it,” you snorted, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You were so wrapped up in trying to retell the break up, you hadn’t even noticed that you already reached Topper’s house. “I shouldn’t even still be getting so worked up over this after all this time,” you sniffed, turning your car off.

Topper looked at you, with that typical look on his face and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe Rafe hasn’t told you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think he might be in denial about it.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. Why was everyone so hung up over your break up?

“It’s been six months.”

Topper didn’t reply, his hand on the car door and you expected him to bid you good bye, but that was too easy.

“… Do you think you guys will get back together?”

“He has a girlfriend, Top.”

“Still. I don’t think that Rafe and Rebecca are gonna last very long.” Topper looked at you, pressing his lips together, before shaking his head. “Sorry. Thanks for coming and for getting me home. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a small wave, and waited until he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, before you turned your car on, pulling off.

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the rest of the tears off as you drove home.

IV Kelce

“Kelce!”

Kelce looked up from the pool table, a smile growing on his face when he saw Rafe come down the basement, his friend wrapping an arm around him for a brief hug.

“Happy birthday, man,” Rafe said, handing Kelce a bottle of the expensive whiskey he always drank when he was at Rafe’s but too stingy to buy it for himself.

“Ah shit, you didn’t have to,” Kelce uttered, though his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the bottle in his hands. He handed the pool stick to one of the guys next to him, leading Rafe to the bar. He grabbed two glasses from the shelves, pouring Rafe and himself a good amount, offering one of the glasses to him.

“Cheers to you.”

The two clinked their glasses, before sipping on the whiskey. Kelce really enjoyed it, too, with the way he closed his eyes, and Rafe only snorted in his glass. Kelce peaked his eye open, shoving his friend fondly with a grin.

“Rebecca here?”

“Yeah, upstairs.”

Kelce hummed in thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. He stared into his glass, swishing the amber liquid around before he spoke up again.

“You know she’s here, too, right?”

Rafe tensed, knowing exactly that Kelce was talking about you, but he had expected it. Firstly, because you and Kelce had always been friends, and secondly because he had heard Sarah making plans with you to go together. Didn’t mean this felt any less of a punch to the gut. He really hoped he wouldn’t run into you, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do; all he knew was, that Bex wasn’t gonna like it. Rafe cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

“I figured, yeah.”

“That okay?” Kelce asked, and Rafe was starting to get annoyed, rolling his eyes. Why was Kelce questioning him about you on his damn birthday? He tried to dampen his anger though, not wanting to ruin the night.

“Yes. It’s your birthday, man.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Rafe knew he did a shit job of hiding his emotions, and Kelce eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t get you guys,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got a new girl, but you still haven’t gotten over your ex, clearly, but every time I mention her, you act like it’s the worst thing in the world, but neither of you have said a bad word about the other.

Rafe scoffed, though his heart started to race at the thought of you talking about him. He wondered what you had said, if you cared enough to ask about him, or if you had long moved on.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why you guys broke up?”

“Maybe next time.”

Kelce gave him a wry smile, knowing this was Rafe avoiding the topic again. He lifted his head when more people starting coming down the basement, curling his hand around Rafe’s shoulder to give him a squeeze.

“I really hope you figure it out bro, because this right now is not it.”

He then excused himself to welcome the new arrivals and Rafe gripped his glass, before downing it in one go.

“Alright, who wants to get destroyed in a round of pool?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he approached the pool table. Anything to stop himself from going upstairs to look for you.

V Sarah

“Oh my god, I thought you were gonna keep talking to her forever!”

You gave Sarah a look. She hadn’t even waited a minute after you left Rebecca on the couch before she started talking about her.

“I don’t have a problem with her.”

Sarah groaned, linking her arm with yours as to not lose you in the crowd that has formed in Kelce’s house. You were glancing around, hyper aware that you could run into Rafe any second, but you didn’t want Sarah to notice.

“I don’t understand how you can be so chill. Did you not see the picture she had in her purse?”

You sighed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder. Was this ever going to stop? “Sar, please.”

“Hello?? That was super freaky.”

“Maybe she was just cleaning up and wanted to throw it in the trash and forgot it in her purse.”

Sarah laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Bullshit! Admit that you find it weird.”

“Okay, maybe it is a little weird,” you admitted. “But don’t you do things that are a little weird sometimes? Maybe she’s just a little insecure. Which I wouldn’t blame her for, you’re so mean. Shouldn’t you try and be her friend or something?”

“Why? She’s not gonna be around much longer anyways, and I already have a friend.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your keys out of your purse to unlock your car. Again with the sentiment that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t gonna last much longer. You decided against deeming that statement with an answer and got into your car, with Sarah getting into the passenger seat.

“Do you want to grab some burgers?” She asked, buckling up, like you hadn’t just told you that your ex and his new girlfriend weren’t gonna last.

You gave her a look as you tossed your purse to the back.

“What do you mean do I want to grab burgers? I thought you wanted to leave because you’re meeting John B early in the morning.”

Sarah blinked at you, before she reached out to give you a shove on the forehead. “I was lying so we could get away, stupid.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, starting your car as Sarah protested.

“What? I was getting weirded out by you being all besties with Rafe’s new girlfriend. I don’t even understand how you can be so nice to her knowing she’s all up on your man.”

“Pray tell, who’s my man again?”

“Don’t even,” Sarah huffed. “You guys dated forever, I know you still love each other. And let me tell you one thing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you. “If you got a new boyfriend? Rafe would not be this nice to him like you were to Rebecca.” With that, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, settling back against her seat.

You only sighed, starting your car in silence.

“Do you want to get burgers now or not?” you asked, extending a peace offer while looking over at Sarah. She glowered at you, before nodding with an eyeroll.

“Yes.”

BONUS + I Rafe

“I did, at the party last night… She said she’s happy that you have me, that she was worried about how you work too much.”

Rafe pushed the pasta on his plate around with his fork, too engrossed in his thoughts to even think about eating. He didn’t even notice how Dennis had stopped talking. Rafe looked up from his plate, only to see Dennis look at him intently, an amused grin on his face.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was saying a lot, but you seemed like you were on a completely different planet,” Dennis noted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Rafe winced, putting his fork down.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can tell,” Dennis mused. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Something like that.”

Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ever since you broke up, Rafe has been assuming that you didn’t care about him anymore, that you had long moved on from him and your relationship. He thought that you resented him, blamed him for the break up, which was honestly the main reason why he went back to the dating scene so quickly; to get over you. But hearing that you still cared about him? Enough to be nice to his new girlfriend and even ask about him? He wondered if there was still a chance for him and you to be together again.

If it weren’t for the fact that he already had a girlfriend.

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice, son?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rafe asked with a wry grin and Dennis only let out a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“Rafe, most relationships these days end because of your own ego, from both parties. No matter how big the fight or problem seems, will it really be that important in hindsight?” Dennis asked him. “How long have you an your girl been together? Almost 5 years, no?”

Rafe nodded, not daring to correct Dennis. He had never outright told him that you had broken up in the first place.

“See, that’s half a decade. I can assure you, in another half, you’re not even gonna remember this fight.”

Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rafe thought.

“Do you love her?”

Turning his ring on his finger, Rafe let out a soft exhale, before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

“See. Problem solved.”

Rafe lifted his head to grin at Dennis.

“Thanks. Is it okay if we cut today short?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, waving Rafe off when he reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me. Go get your girl.”

“I will,” Rafe promised, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I just gotta take care of something else first.”

BONUS + II You

You were staring at your phone, text thread with Rafe open. It was Saturday night; you and Sarah had went out to a small beach party. Sarah had gone to fill her drink back up and you had used that time of solace to overthink. About Rafe.

For the past few week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you blamed your friends for it, really. First Wheezie, then Topper and then Sarah? Somehow all of them said that the break up was the worst idea, and even though you had always second guessed the choice to break up, this was the first time you actually actively regretted it.

The way Sarah seemed so sure that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t going to last long. Maybe you were wrong and they weren’t as happy as you thought. But then again, it wasn’t any of your business, was it? Who were you to put your nose into their relationship?

God, you shouldn’t be doing this.

“How long does Sarah need to fill her drink back up?” You muttered to yourself, finishing your vodka soda and burying the cup in the sand next to you, when you heard foot steps approaching.

“Finally! I was about to send a search group out for you!” you exclaimed, standing up and dusting the sand off your lap. “Seriously, how long does it take for-”

You froze when you turned around just to see Rafe standing in front of you, instead of Sarah. Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Rafe, hey,” you said, opting for casual. “Sorry. I thought you were Sarah.”

The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I could tell.”

You looked at him, sighing a bit wistfully (mostly) internally, before you shifted on your feet nervously. “It was nice to see you,” you said, and it was true. “But um… I think I’ll go look for Sarah.” You gave him a small smile, before walking towards, and then past him.

“You’re still worried about me.”

You let out a startled laugh, pausing mid-step to turn back to him. “What?”

“You told Rebecca that you were glad that I had her and that you worried I work too much.”

“Of course I’m still worried about you,” you huffed, brushing your hair back. “You can’t be surprised about that.”

Rafe looked at you, and you could tell that this was news to him.

“Rafe.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts. I thought you were mad at me or somethin’.”

“I didn’t reply to any of your texts because we said we’d do no contact for a while.

“Still,” Rafe muttered, kicking a rock. “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you-”

“And because you were happy with Rebecca, do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?”

“I broke up with Rebecca last week.”

“What?!”

Mouth agape, you stared at him and Rafe only rubbed the back of his neck. “She… Wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Oh,” you only said, letting out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry about that.”

Rafe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze was trained on the floor for a bit, before he lifted his head to look at you.

“I want to try again… I want us to try again.”

“Rafe…”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide and you didn’t move as Rafe took a step towards you, reaching for your hand. Your fingers were cold in his but they quickly warmed to his touch, and the way he laced his fingers with yours, felt all to familiar.

“I love you. I never should have agreed to breaking up. It was arguably the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“And what’s the stupidest?” you asked, corners of your mouth lifting.

“Not listening to you when you were just trying to help,” he answered, looking down at you, so vulnerable like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I rearranged my schedule at the company so I could take on less work, take more time off and relax. Take the time to get us to where we were before it all went shitty.”

Your heart was in your throat as you listened to him talk, unsure what to say.

“Rafe, I don’t know… “

“Baby, please,” he begged, squeezing your hand. “Do you love me, still?”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? Because you do?”

“Of course I still love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to ignore your texts? To see you with another girl, so happy?”

Rafe shook his head, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t. Not really.”

You let out another sigh, looking at the way your hands were intertwined, how your heart had stopped racing, before you nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

A smile spread across Rafe’s face, so big it was so uncharacteristic for him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was like that word switched a flip inside of him, as he grabbed you by your nape gently, to kiss you, slotting his lips against your, and as your lips touched, it felt like you were finally home again. You only pulled away to breathe, both of you staring at each other like you couldn’t quite realize this was happening.

Sarah [05/11/2024: 10:45 pm]: (sent to 4 contacts) [picture attached: blurry photograph of you and Rafe kissing at the beach]

Topper [05/11/2024: 10:46 pm]: thank god.

Kelce [05/11/2024: 10:51 pm]: FINALLY!

Wheezie [05/11/2024: 10:59 pm]: !!!!!!

Barry [05/11/2024: 11:02 pm]: read at 11:02 pm

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: sooo.... what are we thinking?

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[ifwebefriends]

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

[yuwuta]

mine. — inumaki toge

❝i just wanna say you’re mine, you’re mine; fuck what you heard, you’re mine, you’re mine.

000. inumaki toge + reader

001. fluff, non-curse/college au, slightly suggestive but barely, inumaki uses sign language and speaks like two actual verbal words

002. baby sized drabble, barely even 1k words

Toge would consider himself patient. He doesn’t mind waiting in long lines for the release of a new game, has no problem when the trains are delayed because it means he can sit and relax in the station a little longer, can sit for hours on end doing nothing and not be bored—but his tolerance for watching other people mess with his girlfriend is extremely low.

He reasons that you continue the conversation because you think it’s merely friend and polite to do so, and you’ve always been such a pleasantly happy drunk. But Toge knows this conversation isn’t friendly on the other end—and it’s not some protective boyfriend instinct, either, he has solid evidence of this idiot talking about you to his other idiot friend in front of Toge during lecture, with no knowledge that he was behind them, or that you are very not single.

(“She’s gorgeous, bro, look,” the kid muses, showing his friend your Instagram profile, “She’s in my bioethics class, and she’s easily the hottest girl. Smart, too. Little bit of a teacher’s pet, but I don’t care, she’s beautiful. A solid eight, for sure.”)

Toge knows that if this guy ever got his head out of his ass and ever bucked up the balls to actually ask you out instead of using roundabout flirting tactics and hopelessly pining over you during lectures, that you’d turn him down. He isn’t worried about losing you, and he doesn’t doubt your love for him. It does, however, concern him that there are people who believe they have a shot with you in the first place. He can’t possibly let that carry on. 

(Also, an eight? How could this guy call you beautiful, but say you’re an eight? It doesn’t equate—Toge doesn’t believe in rating women, but you’re not an eight. You’re a fifteen on a scale of one to ten; a shining star amongst a sea of planets; the love of his life). 

His fuse is about to blow when the guy touches you, reaches for your hair and carefully twirls a bit between his fingers. He knows that move; he knows the excuse was probably that there was something stuck to your hair, but Toge didn’t see shit. He’s had enough, and promptly bulldozes through Maki’s small apartment to reach you. He’s not sure if he’s making a ruckus, or if you can sense him coming, but you turn your head in his direction, a smile spreading on your face before cheering, “Hey, Toge! Do you—”

You’re cut off by a tug on your shirt, firm and impatient—but you’re not moving yet, not quick enough, so he does it again. Your eyes seem to light up with realization. You turn back to acknowledge the boy, and that’s really when Toge really loses it. All he hears is the stupid, desperate pitch of the kid’s voice sputtering out something about finding you later and grabbing drinks for you both, even as Toge’s dragging you through the crowd.

You let yourself be pulled by Toge’s greedy hand. It’s not all that far, just into a corner of the hallway, next to a closet where Maki keeps her cleaning and kickboxing supplies. He’s tempted to pull you into her bedroom, but he’s not up for being bruised for a week. 

“You okay?” you question, voice sweet and genuine—and it makes him grimace, because you really didn’t have a clue. Not one at all. 

Toge huffs, drops your hand to sign; using his left hand to circle around his face slowly, tapping at his chin. You understand, but only partially, given the slight tilt of your head and question that follows, “Beautiful? That’s why you’re upset?” 

He blinks slowly, shaking his head and flailing his arms in the direction of the living room. You follow his hands, down the hall then back to his face, but he can tell you still don’t get it. He tries again, pointing to you, then repeating his previous sign and adding another, and he can see the realization spread across your face, followed shortly by a bashful chuckle. 

“Too pretty? Me?” you ask to confirm. Toge nods his head, all serious and steely eyes, but you throw yours back with a hearty laugh this time. He crinkles his eyebrows, repeating his initial signs this time. Hdoesn’t know what’s so funny, if you’re laughing because you’re flattered or you find him ridiculous or something in between, but Toge means it either way; wants to ingrain it into you, just how beautiful you are.

So, he raises his hands again, when your eyes have met him again, and goes slower this time—pulls his mask down for good measure, so you can read his expression more clearly—to sign one simple word: “Mine.”

You tilt your head to the side again, and now Toge is the one laughing. He thinks you might be a little more drunk than you’ve let on, or maybe you just want him to indulge you. Either way, he has no problem repeating himself, doesn’t mind telling you again and again and again. 

He takes a step forward, leaving mere inches between you. You seem much smaller than him like this, still giggling, but he doesn’t mind. Toge reaches for your rest again, turning your palm upward and using a single finger to trace the letters of the word “mine,” onto your skin.

Your laughter comes to a halt when you verbalize his words, “Mine?” Toge nods, turning your wrist again to lace your hands together, pushes yours against the wall, uses his free one to cradle your cheek. He adores the way your pupils get bigger, the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. It’s his turn to smile, pulling you towards him for a kiss and ghosting his words over your lips, “You’re mine.”

[grison-in-space]

Listening to Artificial Condition again, it strikes me how much Murderbot uses empathy reflexively as a survival skill. Look at this bit.

Upon meeting it, ART allows it on board and then announces that it knows that Murderbot is rogue. Then ART threatens to destroy it if it hacks ART's own systems. Murderbot is immediately terrified and shuts down all inputs, gives serious thought to spending the entire three month journey unconscious, and then considers the potential avenues of damage from ART's drones. ART, not realizing why Murderbot had suddenly gone silent, tells it to quit sulking, which understandably pisses off the still-terrified Murderbot. It dumps a bunch of memories of coercive treatment into ART's feed, and ART goes silent.

Then this happens:

Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you. Okay, well. If you think I trusted that apology, you don’t know Murderbot. Most likely it was playing a game with me. I said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to ride to your next destination.” I’d explained that earlier, before it opened the hatch for me, but it was worth repeating. I felt it withdraw back behind its wall. I waited, and let my circulatory system purge the fear-generated chemicals. More time crawled by, and I started to get bored. Sitting here like this was too much like waiting in a cubicle after I’d been activated, waiting for the new clients to take delivery, for the next boring contract. If it was going to destroy me, at least I could get some media in before that happened. I started the new show again, but I was still too upset to enjoy it, so I stopped it and started rewatching an old episode of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. After three episodes, I was calmer and reluctantly beginning to see the transport’s perspective. A SecUnit could cause it a lot of internal damage if it wasn’t careful, and rogue SecUnits were not exactly known for lying low and avoiding trouble. I hadn’t hurt the last transport I had taken a ride on, but it didn’t know that. I didn’t understand why it had let me aboard, if it really didn’t want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have trusted me, if I was a transport. Maybe it was like me, and it had taken an opportunity because it was there, not because it knew what it wanted.

The thing about Murderbot's survival is that it clearly involves quite a bit of negotiating with other constructs and bots. That's how it talks its way onto cargo hauler bots in the first place. It uses empathy--envisioning the emotional and cognitive context of the individuals it encounters--to work out what different kinds of people want, so that it can offer them fair trades. It also uses empathy to consider what humans might be looking for, so it can practice blending in and hide.

Murderbot would never have survived so long if it wasn't capable of assessing the individual desires of the people--human, bot, and construct--around it. It thinks about ART's probable fears and motivations so that it can consider whether ART is inherently an ongoing threat or a potential ally.

When your survival depends on evading detection, you get really good at assessing perceptual biases so that you can shape yourself to fit into them. People talk about murderbot being radically empathetic as a choice it makes, or as a feature of its personality that makes it a good person. But I think murderbot would be the the first person to tell you that this empathy is part of its threat assessment suite, a skill that was developed out of necessity in order to allow you to survive.

It is also a trait that makes murderbot a good person, of course: it chooses very carefully to try to survive by doing as little harm as possible and by offering things, like media, that buy it access to things it needs. But it started as a survival skill. It's part of hypervigilance.

I think one of the strengths of this series is that so many of the things we love about SecUnit are traits developed for survival in an inherently threatening world. The shape of its mind and heart have been changed by the trauma of its origin--but they don't make murderbot less good for being altered, even if that skill was developed in a traumatic context.

I like that.

[lemons-roses]

Okay I said I wouldn’t but I’m making a post about it

Rant under the cut

Why is everyone so upset that these exist? Contrary to popular belief, MENS CLOTHING DOESNT FIT EVERY TRANSMASC. Transmasc people sometimes have larger thighs and hips! The only pair of men’s jeans I own I need to wear with a belt, because they fit at the hip but not at the waist, because they are styled for cis men’s bodies.

The worst part about this is seeing all the other trans people making fun of these, even transfems saying things like “why don’t they make transfem blouses tho” THEY SHOULD. That doesn’t mean they shouldn’t make clothes for transmascs!!!!

Everyone wants to say transmisandry or transandrophobia doesn’t exist, or that it’s just another way to say transmisogyny, then you treat transmascs like shit for… wanting jeans that fit??? Everyday on every accursed social media site people say things like “ew why would you wanna be a guy at all lol” or “trans guys should know their place worshiping the dolls.”

Everyone forgets that most transmascs have lived as women. Some of us still have to. Some of us face misogyny and transmisandry every day of our lives. And it fucking sucks. All I’m asking is that other members of the community that transmascs believe we’re safe in show some basic fucking respect. This isn’t transmisogyny. This isn’t being a “mens rights activist.” This is wanting people around you who should understand your experiences better than anyone to treat you like someone worthy of respect.

(Original tweet is sarcastic btw)

[lenoraah]

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦

pairing - charles leclerc x best friend! (turned lover) reader

summary - charles decides that he finally wants some normalcy in his life, that’s when reader and her best friend take it on their own hands to make it the most normal date that charles has ever been on. that is until charles blows off his date, realizing that he can no longer hide his emotions and feelings for his best friend

a/n - best friends to lovers, one of my least favorite tropes what this just seemed right. and as usual the best friend will be named (Ines) p.s reading is kind of rushed :)

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“No,”

“Why not?”

“Because Charles, normal people don’t wear a full five piece suit on a first date.” Y/n makes a face and Ines snort laughs at the sight of the Monegasque driver.

Charles groans as Y/n tugs at his tie and makes another face.

“Well I don’t know what to wear.” Charles plops down on the armchair behind him and crosses his arms with a pout on his face.

Ines and Y/n share a look before slowly starting to nod. Ines gets up and the two stand right in front of Charles with a smug smile on their faces.

“No, no, no. I don’t like this look,” Charles rapidly shakes his head as the two best friends in front of him keep nodding.

Y/n and Ines waste no time in dragging Charles into their enormous walk-in closet. Charles gets thrown into a chair the moment they enter the room.

The brunette spends the next ten minutes listening to Y/n and Ines mumble and completing why he agreed let Y/n help them with his first ‘normal date’.

“Here,” Y/n tosses Charles pair of jeans.

“And this,” Ines throws him a vintage sweatshirt.

“Layer the sweatshirt over the dress shirt, and leave everything untucked from the jeans. And also your perfectly white sneakers.” Y/n rolls her eyes at the last part and Charles can’t help but grin.

Ines and Y/n ushers for the Monegasque to change and they settle into the two armchairs. The y/h/c girl keeps quiet as she gently grazes Charles suit jacket making Ines raise an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?” Y/n shakes her head and nods with a stiff look on her face.

“No you’re not,” Ines sighs and gets up from her seat. She crosses her arms and stands in front of Y/n with an unimpressed look on her face.

“I am completely fine, I have no idea with you’re talking about.” Y/n sits up and drapes Charles’s jacket over the chair next to him.

“I don’t think so,” Ines rolls her eyes. “You’re upset that Charles is going on a date and you’re not the one his going with.”

“I- I am not.” Y/n scoffs but hesitantly looks away, avoiding Ines’s gaze.

The brown haired girl ignores her comments and mumbles something in Spanish that Y/n can’t understand.

“Y/n, admit it.”

“No,”

“Say it,”

“No I don’t,”

“Admit it, say that you like Charles.” Ines grabs Y/n and shakes her by her shoulders.

“Fine, fine, I do.” Y/n says in between laughter. “Please stop shaking me.”

“Hah, I knew it.” Ines immediately lets go of her and quietly yells something in Spanish.

Y/n scowls but smiles a little, glad to have the pressure taken off her chest.

“You have to tell him,”

“What? Nessie, I can’t.” Y/n scowls at the idea and punches Ines in the arm.

Ines whimpers and rubs her arm as she walks away from the y/h/c girl, looking at a rack of coats and making an interesting face at a sequin jacket.

Y/n groans as she buries her face in her hands, bringing her knees to her chest.

“How do I look?” Charles enter the room with the rest of his suit in his hand. Ines glances at Y/n before grabbing all pieces of Charles’s suit and a few hangers before leaving the two of them alone.

“Well, this is just another outfit that proves that I can style better than you.” Y/n teases as Charles looks at himself in the mirror.

The two of them stay like that for moment. The two staring at him in the mirror.

So awkward.

Charles adjusts his bracelets as Y/n runs a hand through her hair. Just as Charles is about to open his mouth, his phone buzzes and that gets both of their attentions.

“I think it’s time you go,” Y/n pushes Charles towards the door with a nervous little laugh.

“Y/n-”

“Nope, your date is waiting and you don’t want to be late. Remember Charles, normal people dating.”

“Y/n/n, wait.”

Ugh the nickname.

Y/n nods and bites down on her inner check, trying to not make it obvious that she is one step closer to blushing if Charles does one more cute or swoon-worthy thing.

“I’ll text you later,” Charles mumbles and Y/n can only keep nodding.

“Uh, huh okay, bye now.” Y/n shoves him out the door and waves with a stupid smile on her face that make Ines, who is watching from the kitchen, face palm.

“I’ll be thinking of you, thanks for everything.”

“Neat, bye now. Text me everything later,” Y/n slams the door close and sighs in relief, only to be greeted with Ines’s horror-filled face and her opening a book and gripping it tightly.

“Neat,”

“Yes, that is what you said.” Ines says with an unreadable look on her face as she aggressively flips the page.

“Oh my God, he said he would thinking of me, Ines. And I said neat,” Y/n sits down at the counter and groans into her hands.

“Yep, I don’t know if what I said to Joseph on our first date after he said he wanted to see me again is worse or this.”

“Didn’t you thank him?” Y/n scrunches her eyebrows together.

Ines sighs as she slams her book close, “I fucking thanked him.”

————————————————————————

So, so stupid.

Y/n groans as she lays down on the floor, her phone thrown halfway across the room. The constant buzzing is killing her.

It’s either Ines asking her a million questions or Charles texting her about the date. Either way we doesn’t want to hear from neither of them.

The y/h/c girl has a pout on her face as she watches Kat’s poem from 10 Things I Hate About You. She tries her best to not cry as she has a crackly face mask on.

As Y/n’s about to have a pity party for herself she, the doorbell rings and she groans once again.

She swings the door open which an annoyed expression on her face.

“What? Wait- Charles? What are you going here?” Y/n tries to keep a straight face as her eyes widen at the sight of her best friend standing at her door with his hands stuffed in his pockets while looking down at the floor.

“I- uh- Came to see you?” Charles smiles awkwardly as he sways from side to side trying to not laugh as he sees the green mixture covering her face.

“Right, uh huh. You know what, we both know neither of us can take anything seriously with this on my face. So give me a minute,” Y/n runs off once again with a nervous laugh, grabbing Charles’s hand and pushing him onto the couch before slamming the door shut.

Charles sits there for a couple minutes before Y/n walked a back into the room.

“So, tell me about your date?”

“I ditched,”

“What?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Charles murmurs, looking down.

Y/n’s eyes rolls to the back of her head for a minute before she sits up straight and stares right into Charles’s green eyes.

“I- I like you too?”

“You do?” Charles inches closer towards her face and she nods with a sheepish smile on her face.

“I like you too,”

The two lean in for a kiss and everything was going so well and-

Damn it Ines.

“What?”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it! Joseph owes me so much money!”