#idk who wrote it but it wasnt me damn

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[sophiesonlinediary]

Official TTPD Review

Fortnight - Such a vibe with headphones on, but still far from being my favorite though. I'm quite shocked this is the first single but I do really like it now at the second listen, still sad post malone didn't get his own verse i was excited for that :/

The Tortured Poets Department - The charlie puth mention really ruined verse 2 for me sadly, but the bridge ruined my life "At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finge. And put it on the one people put wedding rings on. And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding" LIKE WTF HEART = BROKEN the title of the song is really cool but i dont know i wasnt expecting the song to sound like this.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - I think this may be my second least favorite from this album i dont understand why i didnt really like this song. Maybe it was the vibe of the song and sound especially the choruses which sadly didnt hit. i love how she wrote about a rocky relationship in this song. I feel like this one will definetly be a grower

Down Bad - literally one of my favorites from the whole album. Maybe it's cause the sound feels familiar to me kind off like midnights vibe. But wow that chorus is amazing truly so catchy and the lyrics like wow. i love this song so muchhhh

So Long, London - Not what I expected but still so heartbreakingly pretty. I love her voice in this song it's so pretty and the lyrics are so good oh my god. I swear the verse 3's in this album are vile. "I died on the altar waitin' for the proof" like god damn this whole song is amazing.

But Daddy I Love Him - I loved this song so fucking much. When she said "I'm having his babies" my face dropped and then she hit me with "no not really but you should see your faces" was really fun i'll probably never forget that. i believe this song is of everyone trying to decide her love life for her. And her being like fuck you guys it's my life and you have to accept it and i love her for that!

Fresh Out The Slammer - Those choruses are so good man especially the second one is so good and so me. On first listen this one isn't very memorable but still really good. Now that i've listened to it more like i love this song so much too and the bride ahhh <333

Florida !!! - Ok so maybe i'm a little biased but man this one is so fucking good. I have loved Florence and Taylor for years so like them collaborating was like everything and more. I have now listened to the song like thrice and wowwwww i love it so muchhhhh. Taylor, Florence, Fl welcomes you with open arms man. And like verse 3 was so good their song writing skills are out of this world.

Guilty As Sin? - What an interesting song, like man, idk how to feel. I love the chorus fs. I've come to interpret this song as her having thoughts of a man who possibly isn't available per say or it's just something that can never happen between the two but the want for eachother is there. "They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly" I love this lyric btw and the chorus right after like wowwww

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me - ME IM SCARED WTF. Her screaming that line was everything and like the second half of the song is so incredible like wow. also this line has stuck with me since last night "Then we could all just laugh until I cry" ALSO THE ASYLUM WHERE THEY RAISED ME SDJNVFI. I love how she's kind of portraying herself in this song as like the stereotypical scary neighbor in movies. At least that's how I saw it. The whole bridge is incredible and magnificent I adore this song.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - GIRL NO YOU CANT AND IM SO HAPPY YOU ACCEPTED THAT. Once I got past the point that this song is about ratty healy I really liked it. it's vibes are so good and the imagery is amazing.

loml - what if i said this should've been track 5. This was the only song in the album I cried to on first listen. It hit me like a bullet and I will never forgive cat lady swift for not preparing me for this song. Literally so fucking hurtful i'm screaming oh my lord. I- no im never getting over this song, sorry not sorry. And the fact "They almost had it all" but there life was cut short aka the relationship ended oh god kill me.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart - I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. This song is heartbreaking don't let the production fool you, the lyrics want to make you rip you're hair out. And you know what i'll be dancing to this song with a broken heart. "The lights refract sequin stars off her silhouette every night. I can show you lies" it's giving mirrorball like augh i love this song so much!!! and the chorus is everything "I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague" SO FUCKING REAL.

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - DRAG HIS ASS TAYLOR YEAHHHH. HELLO WTF THIS SONG IS SO GOOD AND FOR ALL OF U HATING ON IT U JUST DONT GET IT THE PASSIVE AGGRESSIVENESS IS EVERYTHINGGGG. mad woman you'd be proud asf. also my religion mentioned as a tongue in cheek to his anti religion views 👏

The Alchemy - I'm not gonna talk about this song much but like I didn't like it at all, i'm sorry. It sounds like one of those Kelce parody songs 😭

Clara Bow - Not the name-dropping herself, damn. I wanna manifest that second pre-chorus btw 🤞 i need to see the light of manhattan. I truly love this song and I can tell it's very personal to her. she's had such an unbelievable career it's always interesting when she writes about it. loved this as the album closer!

this is my ttpd review. remember im just a girl who's only listened to this album twice so please dont drag me for these opinions. gonna do the anthology later!

[short-black-diamond]

HELPPP😭

Today i was at a Popular ( a store w books and etc ) so while looking for some romance books ( because im single and lonely ) i wasnt able to find any books that sounded VERY interesting to me😔

So my brain just decided to open my notes app and starting creating some ideas/ plots for romance books??

AND HELPP- 😭

IDK WTH I WROTE💀

( im tryna get some opinions, i asked my guy fren but he hasn't responded )

AND SINCE UR LIKE MY FAV WRITER ON THIS APP ( and like an actual writer ) IMMA NEED U TO JUDGE MY PLOT IM SORRY😭

imma summarize in a dum way to speed things up-

BASICALLY,

Girl is a happy family and great home :)

Girls parents fight ( AGAIN )

Girl become sad

Girl don't like being at home no more cuz home doesn't feel like home😔 so she tries to avoid going home as much as possible

Girl go party

Girl wake up in mystery guys bed

*ITS THE NICE POPULAR GUY THAT EVERYONE LIKES and wanna gets with🤭😏* ( he was the host btw )

Girl be like : GOTTA GO😅

Guy : NO WAIT! pls stay longer

( he has small crush on her but both of them don't realize it, he develops it when he starts seeing her stayback after school more, he does too- reason is revealed later)

Girl goes home and fighting gets worse

Girl decides : why not, beats being at home. and now lives at boys home ( kinda like a REALLY long sleepover tho-)

As girl continues staying with boy she starts to notice that boy is actually really lonely despite being popular ( his parents were like nagi's and never around, thats why he always throw parties fyi 😮)

As both of them continue living together, they start feeling more and more comfy with each other and soon always want to be tgt

so when their relationship starts getting closer and closer, will they be able to experience the warm feeling of having a home?? ( Metaphorical sense )

( THEY END UP AS COUPLE OBVI )

i got inspo from a quote that says "souls tend to go back to who feel like home"

IM SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG😭🙏

take care, love and kisses 💋

BYEBYE!! ❤️✨💅 :)

okay first off, why did you put nagi in there, like leave that lil guy alone what did he ever do to you 😭😭😭💀💀💀

second, that is a lovely idea actually, bonus points if the boi has fluffy hair

also thank you for keeping it simple with girl and boi because I wouldn't understand the story then

but still, it's a really great and sweet idea in my opinion :}

damn I should read my books....

Also I hope that the parents sort their argument out at the end becuz hello they have a child, and where is she??? Like are we not gon talk about them???

anyways, your idea is cool, but I want the parents to apologize to girl for making her feel uncomfortable with their arguments

and the boy and the girl should have a lil kith at the end..👉🏻👈🏻

that idea you have is overly lovely, my sweet little ghost👻

please tell me more if you want to continue, okay?

-your diamond <3

[hexitca]

Dammit...

So I found my old CD player (had it since I was a tween lol) and the 2 CDs I kept but the phone jack doesn't work but the line out port does but only one headphone works (I tested it with others and it was the same.)

It plays but idk for how long bc the volume doesn't turn up, maybe bc I'm using the line out port but idk. Damn I was really excited.

lol it's 2am I better go to bed but I'll be tossing this and going to buy a new CD player off ebay

I'm so happy that out of all the CDs I kept Devil May Cry Anime Ost and Chrono Crusade Ost lol

Lol the chrono crusade info booklet is in Japanese so baby me wrote the songs out haha I'll keep that 🤣

Oh look at the DMC anime booklet. I was a little older getting the DMC anime ost compared to chrono crusade but ugh I love it so much

Lol memories of me popping these bad boys in and jamming out.

Tumblr wasnt a thing so i didn't have anything for fandoms so I would go to fan sites hosted on angelfire or LiveJournal (mainly for chrono crusade) while DMC idk I clearly had an interest but I don't remember trying to scronge the internet for DMC. Maybe bc it was a video game (and I was 14 when the anime came out but didn't watch it until much later plus my hyperfixation on chrono crusade and other things) who knows. Think I got the DMC anime CD at 17 yrs old or up.

I remember finding the chrono crusade CD on a Japanese website that would sell to the US (wasnt Amazon lol) and my mom got it for me lol

Crazy

[kkurokitty]

Hey, i know you were trying to defend your friend, but the way you were talking to me was unacceptable. I, number 1, was not complaining about the hc, i just said the members i didnt like and yeah. I didnt go in depth, i didnt spread hate, i just said my opinions and moved on. I wasnt bothered, and melody wasn't bothered either. Because why should she be? "Im not the only person on tumblr" remember?? Why should you give a damn? And even when i told you multiple times that i was just saying my opinion (which only hurted you ig but idk how, its not like you wrote it) you kept ignoring what i was saying, and just talked down on me like i was a piece of shit (and had the nerve to say i wasnt reading). "If you dont like it, shut the fuck up." Was basically what you were saying to me. And no, no i wont. It's my blog too, and melody didnt care. You need to get over yourself, this doesn't look so cute on your blog either.

Have a nice day :)

hey, quick question. do you know melody personally? because i do. she’s been my best friend for three years and she has talked to me multiple times about things that bother her, including your weird ass reblogs complaining about what she writes on her blog. and yes, you were complaining.

i already gave you the definition but since you clearly lack reading comprehension, here it is again.

you are allowed to have your opinions but it becomes an issue when you are constantly subjecting others to your opinion and presenting them in a manner that yours is the right one. your tone is gross and condescending when you reblog shit. “y’all like this??” why is that any of your business? if you don’t like it, fucking don’t read it. that’s literally the fucking bare bones rules of fanfiction.

more people than just me had an issue with your disgustingly entitled tone and rude manner in which you went into melody’s asks. i voiced my opinion, just like you.

i literally am telling you “if you don’t like it, don’t read it” BECAUSE THAT’S HOW FANFICTION WORKS. are you new here or are you just that much of a spoiled brat that you think everything should revolve around you and your likes. if you want vanilla smut, go to a vanilla smut blog. don’t read the warnings of a very clearly not vanilla piece of work, then write in a reblog how much you didn’t like it. that’s your own damn fault and you are very weird.

i don’t care if you think the way i am speaking to you is disrespectful. you were never respectful to melody when making those reblogs. and who knows how many others.

[trainer-blue]

mental health stuff, not a vent, just thinkin & talking //

deeply personal & might sound weird! talking about coping methods that may sound strange especially to ppl who dont kin //

//

//

//

i think kins & copes are so interesting.. like the range in my personal experience. like jasper DONA i’d describe for myself as a “coping kin,” bc he comes out in very (weirdly) specific situations where i need some help coping (somehow he’s specifically tied to when my parents r driving badly & i feel unsafe in the car?? LMFAO) but ALSO i’ve had more “normal” kin vibes from him, like the emotional connection to the songs, story, familial feelings for his family, feeling what he feels etc etc etc

walter i’d describe more as JUST a cope i guess? outside of coping scenarios i never rlly Think about him or feel his stuff… when i wrote for a.lien i wrote david & was damn good at it bc i vibed w david. I always loved walter & considered writing him but he wasnt the one i like. studied, connected to, etc.

I feel like that might be why walter is such an EFFECTIVE cope for me. He’s been one since at least / before 2017, long before i rlly knew abt concepts of kinning etc. i remember the first time my mom noticed how i was acting diff & it wasnt good. but yeah i think walter being kind of purely Reserved for copes helps a lot bc my KIN kins have so much wrapped up w them. So much extra stuff that needs activating etc etc that theyre not rlly. Effective quick fixes.

i am curious why walter’s my cope for this stuff & not data though. theyre basically the same, except data is even MORE “”incapable of emotion””. walter came first (for me) i guess, and maybe it’s helpful that i never did kin things w the franchise like i did w ST w lore? idk. interesting to me though

[sorryimananti-romantic]

ahahah i havent moved *yet* (prolly when skl closes) and yes im the one who wrote the thingy titled desperate remedies (ironic considering my situation here ☹)

context: like a week ago we were chatting as we have since 2022 (we've been seperated since 2017 but recently got in touch), when all of a sudden she disappears. this sometimes happens, and it generally lasts for like a day or 2 b4 shes back to normal (normal as in actually putting an effort to converse). but this past week, she's gotten so distant, and its never happened b4 ☹

i went to my brother about it like 2 days ago n he said sth like know your worth and if she doesnt want to put an effort into speaking with you, stop expecting her to. and then more stuff before ending it with "a tip for the future: dont get too attatched to people. i know its a bit too late to say this now, but keep it in mind later on in life" when i tell u that was the biggest reality check ive gotten like damnnn sir yes sir why didnt i let bro cook earlier 🗣🗣🔥🔥

so today in a lighthearted manner i confronted her abt it

"hi. you havent been thinking about me enough to send a message 🤨. not even a "hi" or "good morning pooks" or "how are you" 😞😞😞" (i didnt actually put full stops, these were all seperate messages)

and yk what she replied with?

"HEYY. wasnt active on snap lil bro🙏" fym wasnt active bro the only reason i even downloaded snap was so i could talk to her and she thinks this is a valid excuse? "wasnt active" is a valid excuse to practically ghost your BEST friend of basically 15 years? damn

i sent a bunch of messages (most definitely NOT casually bc icba to be polite after she pulled that shit) telling her abt my feelings on the matter. she hasnt seen them yet, and idk if i should delete them or wait for her to see it

help meeeeememememememe ☹☹

your bro knows whats up 🗣🗣

hmmmm best friend of 15 years but you've been separated since 2017, i think it's normal to have gaps in communication bc you can't talk to the same ppl every single day unless you really really get along (the only ppl i talk to on a regular basis are all internet friends and that prob says sth about me too lmao)

but your bro is right- it does feel like both the case of 'you're too attached' and 'no effort from that friend'. since you've already sent msgs telling her about your feelings, i think it will be clear to you now about what she wants and then you can make decision about what to do next accordingly? kjfhgjkdhg

i think if she wants to save this friendship she'll be clear about her feelings on this matter and maybe you'll both find a middle ground about how you're going to navigate in the future. good luck <3

[andrwgarfields]

Not to bring everything back to Kit but… I lowkey think a bit of the “queerba*ting” nonsense had a bit to do with people being weird and defeatist about Joe’s prospects? Like people saw Kit getting booked and were mad that he was getting attention that Joe “wasn’t”… as if there’s a direct correlation between the amount of fan instagram edits someone has and the roles they receive 🤦🏻‍♀️. But they definitely fixated on the “straight-passing privilege”, both as a reason to be defeatist about Joe and bitter about Kit. Ignoring the fact that Kit has been a professional actor his entire life, so it makes sense he’d have projects lined up after Heartstopper (and Bash too).

Like damn, guys. Be patient. The show barely just came out. Nobody knew it was going to be huge until it was, so Joe basically had nothing on his resume until seven months ago. Even before the Marvel announcement I knew he’d be fine. He’s too good of an actor not to be, and Heartstopper got too much attention to be ignored.

(Also like… yes, I know that openly gay actors have a harder time in Hollywood, but since when is “skinny white guy” a deterrent for casting directors… 🙃)

hmmmm idk if i agree with the first part tho, and correct me if im wrong so you’re saying that the ppl who talked abt kit queerbaiting are basically joe’s fans or those who think its unfair kit had more offers than joe?

yeah when some anons wrote in we acknowledged that bash and kit definitely have much longer resumes and kit’s is impressive as well so there wasnt any worry there and they have been booking since they were kids, its just that ppl are more aware of it now

I agree on that part to some extent, I definitely agree that joe is amazing and deserve to book more interesting roles and for sure hs is popular but there has been a lot of series that were popular and the cast and even the lead actors just ended up doing small stuff or basically did not book something as significant as their series role so to think that joe will definitely book bcos hs is popular is false, part of me worried that he’ll be typecasted

(yes and no…i think ppl were aware of the fact that joe doesnt fit with i guess…the conventionally attractive prototype and most narratives are still catered to the masses which might mean non lgbt romance and such, theres artist who have everything they should have to succeed in hollywood but only have one significant project)

[wincore]

talk | kim dongyoung

pairing: prince!doyoung x princess!reader

words: 8k

prompt: anonymous sent: For the Valentines day request may I request one w nct Doyoung? (also if you can, an au where he's a prince and reader's a princess?)

genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage!au, fluff, hurt/comfort

warning(s): a tad suggestive?

gif credit

You’re not exactly someone to bow your head and agree to a command. You weren’t raised with a lot of freedom, but you sought it anyway, and the mere taste of it never let you live the way you should be.

Princesses aren’t supposed to be like you—they’re supposed to be prim and proper, smell like roses and all things rich and wonderful, they’re supposed to smile and laugh with the princes, hold their head up with dignity but bow when they’re ordered to. They’re not supposed to sneak out at midnight to stargaze, or get their knees scraped climbing trees, they’re not supposed to scowl or make ugly faces at any advances from the opposite gender, and they certainly aren’t supposed to keep disappearing, especially during important dinners.

The news had your insides crumbling when you heard it, when your mother notified you with a look of disdain, scolding you for being absent from the palace almost all the time. Her words only seem to reproach your actions, conveniently missing the point that maybe, just maybe you aren’t at fault at times. To be robbed of freedom, to be married to a man you’ve hardly glanced at, to be treated as if you aren’t a person at all—it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth at best.

You’re often told you have a lot of independence. It doesn’t make any sense to you, just how anyone could have the audacity to tell you that. They’re not the ones caged by societal rules, rules that require the binding of your soul and the full capabilities of your body. You can’t count the number of times you’ve physically restricted yourself from screaming, or just punching someone in the face (you wish you knew how to without damaging your knuckles, but you’ve been denied that lesson several times). You’re not purely hot-headed, or impulsive, but you’re allowed to at least have these thoughts, right? Or are you supposed to keep a check on your thoughts, too?

When you see Kim Dongyoung in his navy blue suit, the golden twigs and leaves etched across the shoulders and the sleeves, you hear your mother sigh beside you. You sigh too, but for a different reason altogether. The princesses across the entire continent would love to take your place; you know your friends would, after they gasped and laughed in joy, congratulating you after you told them, missing the point like everyone else. But they make some sense, of course. He’s handsome, ethereally so, and he’s rich. Moreover, he’s known for his failproof war strategies that men of ordinary intelligence don’t usually come up with.  But that’s all you know of him. You don’t know if he has any passions, or if he’s a puppet like you and other people in your position. You don’t know if he’s kind to the poor, or if he likes walks through gardens. You don’t know if he likes to read, or if he has a favourite smell, favourite food, favourite colour. All you know is an image other people have painted of him, and you’re meant to spend your life with this hollow shell of a man you don’t know, who you now won’t let yourself know, purely out of spite.

You sit at the wooden bench in the royal garden, awkwardly playing with your hands. You’re left with Doyoung, as he prefers to be called, and you’re meant to talk to him. It’s a freedom your families have given to you, to get to know each other before your lives are intertwined forever. Sunlight streams in, and the browns of his eyes vaguely remind you of the woods on a spring afternoon.

“You probably hate this as much as I do, ” he says, cutting the thick silence, no sign of humour in his tone. In fact, his lips are pursed into a grim expression quite possibly reflecting yours.

“Probably more,” you grumble. As a lady, you’ve been taught to never use that tone. But as you, you can’t care less, now that you know he feels the same.

Doyoung scoffs. “More?”

He turns to look at you, the expression on his face more begrudging than anything. His shoulders are tense, or maybe he’s been taught to sit with them straight. Either way, he doesn’t seem to be enjoying his time with you.

“What?” you laugh. “You want to turn this into a competition to see who hates it more?”

You think Doyoung might have cracked a smile from the way his lips twitch, but he maintains his mildly annoyed expression, refusing to continue the conversation. The seconds drip slowly, and every time you hear a rustling from behind the entrance pillars, Doyoung reluctantly inches closer or you start giggling as though he’d said a really funny joke. The dishonest atmosphere of friendliness you delicately put up with your words and actions might as well have brought you closer—after all, you’re on the same boat, doing the same thing—but at the end of it, the prince of the north leaves with an empty smile, and you do the same.

You lie to your mother about how wonderful a man your fiancé is, and how you’re glad she’s chosen such a fitting suitor for you. You feel a little sick uttering the words but you don’t show any signs of discomfort, as your mother’s face brightens. You don’t lie very often, but the nervous crack in your mother’s voice and her shaking eyes tell you that you should be a good daughter for once.

When you enter your bedroom, you think you’ll cry. You’ve never been very fond of this room, always comparing them to a prison but now that you’re aware you might not see it again, you feel some sort of indescribable regret in your chest. Were the walls always this shade of green? Weren’t they blue once? Is your new bedroom going to have the same shade? Will you even be able to sleep there? There are so many questions you have, and none of them have a hint of optimism in their essence. It’s just a spiral of terrifying thoughts only someone who’s been drowning can understand, someone who’s been stolen from, someone with too much on their mind.

You meet Doyoung once more, three weeks before your scheduled wedding and you end up arguing, much to the horror of your mother. It wasn’t necessarily your fault, but when is an argument ever the fault of only one? Doyoung and his sharp words leave you annoyed and you shoot back with words equally prickling, and the entire situation turns messier than ever. You don’t even remember what it was that set you off; maybe Doyoung was picking a fight on purpose as a last attempt to refuse this marriage. Either way, it ticked you off and you’re more unwilling than ever to partake in the sacred bonds of marriage with this man, this entitled prince, this smartass who thinks he knows everything.

In a way, you’re glad your differences come into light so early—maybe your parents will call it off, maybe they’ll realize it’s not wise to marry you off to a foreign land. But of course, when the entire country is at stake, what does the life of a little princess matter? No, the marriage is still to take place in three weeks, and it needs to be for the sake of peace between nations, even if it is at the price of yours.

It’s strange to be the centre of attention at a wedding. You would have almost forgotten it’s your own were it not for the several congratulatory messages you keep receiving, and Doyoung’s arm placed gingerly on your waist. His tight-lipped smile at the guests, the one you know is not real, unnerves you because you display the exact same one. The irony is high, as the day celebrating love and joy is taking away yours completely.

The atmosphere is meant to be bright and cheerful, with the gold chandeliers and painted glass that impresses everyone entering the hall. The musicians play a soft, but festive melody and you would doze off if it weren’t for Doyoung’s tight grip over your hand. You glare at him every time his hold gets too strong, or after he makes someone you hardly care about introduce themselves to you. So you’re more comfortable in your new home. How laughable. Maybe he likes the way your temper flares red and shows up across your cheeks. Hopefully you’ll be able to ignore it with time, his meaningless jabs. You cringe when the thought flashes through your mind, how you’ve already started planning your days after, how you’ll spend it with the man beside you. It brings you dread and you try to ignore it best as you can, for at least this day.

Doyoung leads you to the middle of the hall, one hand on the small of your back and the other intertwined with yours. Having to dance under the prying eyes of an audience adds to the painted blush of your cheeks, and the only way you can calm is by looking at Doyoung’s face. You almost step on his foot once or twice, but you’re glad no one notices the prince’s mild winces. You think Doyoung is probably going to scold you afterwards, and you let yourself frown a little. You aren’t a child, but well, this isn’t exactly what you had prepared for; dancing has never been your area of expertise, especially with a partner, and you find yourself counting the seconds till this is over.

“Why are we doing this?” you whisper to Doyoung.

“It’s called a waltz,” he replies, nonchalantly.

“I know that,” you glare at him. Seriously, you can’t be that bad. But you’re relieved when it’s over.

The sunlight streams in and forms perfect patterns on Doyoung’s face, the pretty curve of his lips or the sharp bridge of his nose highlighted for you, and all others to see. Some glare at you or sigh as if wishing they were in your place. You could almost laugh. You wish you were in theirs. It’s no doubt Doyoung looks better than most princes, but the resulting grudge of being enforced to do something blinds you to it. You’d never admit it at this point—after all, will it give you your freedom, your happiness? So you shut your mouth and smile every time a lady passes by to compliment him, or tell the two of you how sweet a pair you make.

You cry to sleep your first night after getting married, sleeping as far as possible from the man you’re bound to. You think Doyoung might have heard your whimpers, but you don’t care. If you’re going to be miserable either way, what’s the point in hiding it? The pillows wet with your tears and the cold prickles your cheek, and you flip it over for a warmer, dryer part to rest on. This exchange goes on till you tire of crying, till your eyes run out of tears. You don’t think you’ve cried this much in quite a while, but the feeling doesn’t reduce with time. Tiredness might just be the only thing to lull you to sleep.

Doyoung had probably fallen asleep far before you realize; you don’t feel him shift or move and the only sound coming from him are soft, steady breaths. You fall asleep to Doyoung’s breathing, the only thing to ease the grasping feeling in your chest.

You might have felt a ghost of a touch across your cheek in the morning, but you refuse to believe it was Doyoung’s or any attempt at comforting you on his part.

It’s freezing in the mornings and at night—curse the Winter Palace to be perched atop a hill; the clouds occasionally kiss the palace towers, its icy breath shrouding the area. Doyoung tells you it’s one of the warmer regions of the north, and you’d find the harbour further south. The prince of the north knows how to handle cold, and you’ll have to learn too. In fact, you have a lot to learn. You know the kingdom ends at the ice wastelands at the north and the harbour at the south, but you hardly remember the rest of its geography despite your old tutor’s best efforts. So even if you were to try sneaking away to be with yourself, somewhere far for even a little while, you wouldn’t know where to go. You’re too embarrassed to ask Doyoung, and he doesn’t seem like he’d be willing to answer you without some snide remark.

Homesickness comes in waves, and leaves you a little nauseous, a little in despair. It shows on your features, the circles under your eyes, your parched lips, the hollowness in your eyes, or the slowing of your pace. Sometimes you take aimless walks in the evening, sometimes you struggle to breathe at night. The glances from Doyoung don’t scream worry to you, but they aren’t completely at peace either. Perhaps he feels sorry for you. Whatever it is, you don’t need his pity—you’re not a child nor a slave, and you’d rather he look at you as an equal, capable of the same things he is. It is perhaps your work that keeps you sane during these terrible bouts of homesickness—the planning for the trade between kingdoms, the right policy to adopt for the people, how to enhance the economy. You have a say in all of these, and you’d claim to be even better than Doyoung if you hadn’t seen him at work, his thinking sharp and detailed.

If there’s anything you love about the Winter Palace, it’s the view from your room. You can see the far ocean between the two rising pieces of land, the small hills always reminding you of the flower fields in your kingdom. The hills are coated in various hues, and it’s a marvellous sight during different times of day, with the changing moods of the sun. Doyoung occasionally stands beside you to admire the sunsets, but you barely exchange any words, before any one of you goes inside. Sometimes he looks as though he wants to say something, but the silence stays, only broken by the call of the birds or a particularly strong breeze.

The Winter Palace, ironically, faces the mildest of the northern winter. The ones further north aren’t as lucky as you, to survive winter with just a few thick coats and warm boots, and you’re almost glad the capital is here. It could have been closer to the harbour, in your opinion, but that made it vulnerable to spies and attacks from foreign countries. You still hate the stupid weather.

Doyoung might as well represent the climate with the cold words that come out of his mouth. He doesn’t like to appear soft or sweet or helpless in any way, and it irks you. He speaks too bold, too loud even, and he likes making his disapproval obvious. You’ve had arguments with him before on how one should behave in a public setting, so you let it go occasionally but sometimes it just blows out of proportion, how he can get away with whatever he wants. You know it’s not completely true, but the thoughts cross your mind anyway.

As the days leap forward, it seems as though Doyoung and you have made a silent pact to stay at least half a metre away from each other. His touch would be too foreign, and a kiss even more alien, even if it is to prove your sham of a marriage as true. The last time you felt the fleeting touch of his fingers was perhaps at the wedding. You hear rumours now; the people don’t believe in your ‘love’, or the treaty, and if it progresses into further unease between the nations, you’re done for. After several arguments, you adopt a policy with Doyoung of at least linking arms in your monthly strolls through the city.

The war might have died, but there’s still a long time to go before the people accept each other. Doyoung and you still struggle to deal with the aftermath of your grandparents’ actions, and the progress occasionally gets delayed. But Doyoung and you were trained better than this, and you might even come to pride yourself on what you’ve achieved so far. Doyoung still holds his frown during council meetings, but you’ve seen at least a ghost of a smile across his features at your unorderly remarks.

“I don’t understand why the princess must be present during these meetings,” the head of the treasury had once commented.

“It’s Queen for you,” you had retorted, “and if the presence of a woman makes you so uncomfortable, I think you’re underqualified to be in this position.”

Some had snickered at the treasury head’s red face, some had solemnly agreed with you. But Doyoung maintained that neutral expression of his, urging the council to move with matters more pressing, and you still think you had imagined the corners of lips curving upwards. It doesn’t make sense to you how that thought actually gives you a strange flickering hope. The thought of making him smile makes you strangely excited, and a little happy even.

“You don’t like them?” you ask Doyoung, nervously glancing at the palace guard dogs.

“What? They’re alright,” he says, looking the other way.

“You’re scared of dogs?” you ask, amused.

“No,” he presses, his eyebrows knit together. “I’m not afraid of dogs.”

“Whatever you say,” you smile, and make your way towards the dogs, one hand raised to let them know you’re no enemy.

The dogs love you, and the whole palace knows it by now. They sprint across the garden and into your arms, and you’re almost knocked over by the force they arrive with. You scratch the back of their ears and brush your fingers through their fur. Doyoung looks at you, confused but approaches carefully.

“You know they’re trained to kill, right?” he tells you.

“And we’re trained to be fake, but that doesn’t sound too fun, does it?” you reply, not taking your eyes off the dogs.

Doyoung crouches beside you, still beware of the dogs and looks at them. Maybe you’re imagining things again but Kim Dongyoung actually smiles, his gums showing and a little laugh escapes his mouth. It sounds wonderful to you, and you let your smile grow into a wider one.

“That one has funny ears,” he comments.

“Well that one actually chewed off a man’s arm last week,” you inform.

“Oh,” Doyoung retreats his hand that was about to pet the dog.

The two of you laugh and the dogs join in with their little howls, and it’s the first time you feel as if the world isn’t against you.

Months pass by and it is enough to discern rumour from truth for the man you call your husband, the first being his cold-bloodedness. Even you might have thought that of him at the very beginning, but heartless? Doyoung is anything but heartless—you’ve seen the way he treats his subordinates, the council members, his people, even the way he offers a sliver of kindness to prisoners who do not deserve it. He might have been cold towards you but it’s only the ice that forms naturally in a forced relationship. He talks a lot to his subordinates—he talks a lot in fact, but not to you. Well, he does but it’s not enough. He usually initiates small talk in an attempt to make you feel comfortable; you know it’s only for your sake and you are grateful, but it doesn’t feel enough, doesn’t feel whole. Do you expect more from him simply because he’s your husband? You probably don’t deserve it when you haven’t shown him kindness of the same.

Doyoung’s habits worm their way into your subconscious near the end of a year, and you don’t feel any change adjusting yourself to him. It’s a thing you never thought you’d be able to do—to leave the comforts of home and find a new one in a man you barely knew. But now you recognize him through the tone of his voice, the twitch of his lips and the light in his eyes. He hates walking all the way to the courtroom every day, and he especially hates running or any other form of physical exertion. (“Because sweating is disgusting.”) He prefers studying in the library to fencing out in the fields, yet he is still an above average combatant. He can never handle spicy food and it had taken quite a while to cure his hiccups after trying the gifts from the southern prince. Doyoung likes his sleep, and he prefers finishing work early to go back to your bedroom and rest. At least there’s one thing you have in common, and it’s your love for sleep.

Doyoung can’t sleep without a pillow. The first night you’d wedged a pillow between the two of you and he’d narrowed his eyes at you for taking his pillow. The discomfort had only lasted a while before he’d brought in an armful of pillows to place all of them around him. Every day since, you sleep in a castle of pillows, Doyoung’s touch never within your reach. It’s the way you’ve both managed to build your own walls that makes you realize that maybe you should’ve walked out when you had the chance. That maybe you could have found a life elsewhere, somewhere in the midst of freedom and not trapped within your own walls. Studying Doyoung is a thing that tells you how he acts or what he’s about to do, but there’s only so much you can understand when you don’t even know what he’s thinking.

The second winter brings about illness and you are not spared. It’s the first time you see Doyoung worried and a little panicked maybe, but you shake off the idea that it’s because he has any feelings whatsoever for you. If you died, he’d probably have to take a new wife and it’s another hassle all over again. The thought makes you uneasy; just when you’re getting used to the place, you might have to leave again, even if the leave holds freedom.

“Do you always have to move your arms in your sleep?” Doyoung asks, irritably. “You almost toppled over your breakfast.

“Ugh,” you grunt, flipping over to turn your back to him.

“Are you not going to eat?”

“Stop nagging me,” you say. You forgot formalities somewhere in the middle of summer.

“I am not nagging you,” he complains, “You sleep too much.”

“Are you really complaining about someone who’s dying?” you snort.

“You’re not dying,” he replies quietly.

You maintain silence for a few moments, and you think he’s walked out, even if you didn’t hear footsteps. You turn to find warm eyes staring at your form under the blankets, and it’s the first time you see the ice melting.

“Why are you here anyway?” you cough out.

“I just thought I’d stay with my wife,” he mumbles. You hear him clearly, but you don’t know why the blood rushes to your cheeks, for you’re sure he’s referring to what you’d look like to the palace workers and the people. You’re glad he sees the red in your cheeks as sickness, and you hug the blankets closer.

“Are you cold?” he asks, standing up.

“No!” you rush, “don’t come any closer- you’ll get sick!”

“Of course not. I’m not stupid like you.”

“That’s no way to talk to the queen,” you grumble.

“You don’t exactly speak the way you’re supposed to speak to the king either.”

“Touché.”

Doyoung’s gestures grow increasingly warm, and perhaps they had always been warm but you were too busy looking for the cold. Yet you still refuse to give in—it’s a dangerous thing to be the one with feelings in a doomed relationship. Doyoung takes care of you almost better than the nurses; he mostly stays by your side, and makes sure your recovery is the priority. He has your prescription memorized, and he’s faster at providing you with your medicine than your caretakers. Doyoung prefers you stick to the herbal products, and although the taste makes you gag, you have it anyway for fear of the reappearance of Doyoung’s rants. He nags you to no end anyway—apparently anything you do is too dangerous to him. You once called him mother as a result and his annoyed face was funnier than anything that comes out of his mouth (“I’m offended you would think that.” “You’re not as funny as you think you are. No one in the council thinks you’re funny.” “They have no sense of humour, and neither do you, it seems.”). He laughs and jokes with you as a friend and it doesn’t help the warmth blooming in your chest. Marriages like yours aren’t meant to carry love.

“Read to me,” you tell Doyoung, when you watch him trace the edge of the papers of the book he’s reading. The candlelight barely allows you to see his face, but he keeps it posted on a stand beside him to read.

“You’d find it boring,” he says, not moving.

“There you go with assuming again,” you click your tongue.

“Fine,” he says, “It’s about kings and queens.”

“You’re right. It is boring.”

You hear Doyoung’s exasperated sigh and smile to yourself. Why do you love to get on his nerves so much? It doesn’t really matter though; you’d just like to relish in the moment.

“I can tell you a story though,” Doyoung says, cutting the silence. There’s a strange uncertainty in his voice and your ears perk up faster than usual. “It’s a story the villagers like to tell their children—about the time the god of mischief got into trouble for his pranks.”

It’s the first time you realize that you really like Doyoung’s voice. He can sing too as you’ve heard him do in the evenings when he thinks no one is around. His voice, as warm as honey, gives you a taste of hot chocolate on your tongue, or the essence of sunset and the peace of sleep. It’s like the feeling of air filling your lungs and you’re glad you have a reason to breathe. Doyoung’s voice is charming and pacifying at the same time, and strangely home, and you rest easier knowing he’s with you.

You think you should owe your life to Doyoung. It’s quite definitely because of him that Death withdrew his hands from around you, and even in the worst of nights, it was Doyoung that really brought you back. You return from sickness a little kinder to your husband, if not entirely. You speak easier to him, without overflowing jabs at each other and it’s honestly refreshing to be husband and wife for once. Well, not exactly. It’s refreshing to not treat each other as enemies for once, to be friends perhaps.

Doyoung still won’t touch you though, even a gentle caress or a pat on the back, and it’s not like you expect him to. It’s still too foreign, too strange but it gets frustrating at times when you feel your heart in your mouth. You try to shake it off, try to ignore it, bury it, anything, but the cursed feelings gnaw at your chest and soul. Maybe you’ve grown too used to his worried glances, or the care in his voice. Did you miss being taken care of, being a little pampered? Or perhaps, despite your best judgement, had you fallen for the prince of the north? Sometimes you wish Doyoung hadn’t been so kind to you that month.

“Are you not going to bed?” Doyoung asks you, dressed in your night gown, staring ruefully from the balcony. He’s just arrived from the negotiations with the neighbouring kingdom, as you can tell from his full suit and the glimmering crown atop his head that looks like a structure sculpted out of crystals of ice, a thing only the finest of sculptors could do. He stares at you with round eyes, like it’s really you he finds special, and not as if you’re the one that probably ruined his life. You don’t blame him for yours turning out this way, but then again, who knows what he’s thinking?

“Do you want me on the bed with you that bad?” you joke, but Doyoung turns red. Maybe your innuendos really do get to him.

“I just thought you’d be sleeping,” he grumbles, “That’s what you usually do.”

He walks inside, and sets his crown atop the dresser. He’s never treated it as a prized possession, or like its worth; it’s just something he has, but doesn’t particularly want.

You hug yourself when a particularly strong breeze blows your way. Spring never seems to show its face in this kingdom, but you bear it just to look at the stars. They bring you peace, a certain harmony in their existence. Maybe it’s the fact that when you’re gone, when your kingdoms no longer exist, when there are kings and queens no longer, the stars will still be there. And whoever you are, no matter what life you’re having, you can still look at them, still wonder.

Doyoung appears to drape his coat around you, and it startles you, jumping at the sudden contact. Your movement startles Doyoung too as he raises his arms in defence.

“Sorry,” you apologize at the same time.

Doyoung is the first one to smile, and the flutters reappear in your chest.

“Guess the habits don’t go away,” he says, turning his head to look up at the sky.

You shrug and pull the coat closer as subtly as possible. It smells like rich perfume, roses and jasmines, but there’s also another scent, a scent that’s completely Doyoung. You would never admit how calming that smell is, or how you wish you had more of it.

“Do you have a favourite?” Doyoung asks. It’s surprising to see him ask questions again months after he’d given up trying to pry answers out of you.

“Not really,” you tell him. It’s true. You’ve never really thought about it, if you could pick a favourite star. They’re all lovely and bright in their own ways.

“Me neither,” he shrugs.

You stand there with him till the silence becomes unbearable and the air too cold. That night, there are less pillows between the two of you, and your cheeks heat up at the embarrassing thoughts that inevitably cross your mind, the touches that could be.

The few days of spring are celebrated with a ball, the grandest gathering of the entire north. The other northern princes partake in organizing, and the entire lands come to celebrate. It’s not the first time you’re visiting, but it is the first time you’re hosting. Last year, spring had decided to not show up, and the ball had been cancelled altogether, much to your dismay and Doyoung’s relief. (“It’s not very fun when you’re hosting it.” “Maybe you just don’t know how to host.”)

Now that you think about it, hosting is pretty difficult. Although the work has been divided among several managers, you and Doyoung have to oversee all of it, and you think you’ll break your back by the time spring is over. Everything needs to be perfect, from the music and performances to last minute details like the colour of the curtains in the ballroom, or the intensity of light coming from the chandeliers. The fireworks for the last day have to be perfectly timed, and the science staff’s new colours have to be tested. The security needs to be tightened around the entrance, and guards have to be posted at every watchtower. Royalty makes enemies, and it’s never too much to be sure.

The first celebrations take place on the hilltop, the one you can see from your bedroom, full of golden calendulas. There’s an open hall at the centre, and the first day must be celebrated there with a prayer to the gods. The southern gods are different, but everyone tags along nonetheless to watch the ice sculptures and water-dancers that are infamous across the entire land. The dancers appeal to the gods, while the musicians sing hymns and prayers in ancient tongue, in front of the intricately carved block of stone. It’s the ancestral stone of the royal family, and every major event, every inauguration takes place with a flurry of prayers to ancestors and gods. You wonder if Doyoung had to send his prayers too at some point, when he was crowned prince.

Doyoung now can’t care less about the holy rituals and prayers, but he has responsibility to maintain. He stands at the back of the crowd, not really paying attention, although people stop to stare at him occasionally. He wears his navy blue suit with the golden leaves again, with the sparkling diamond crown perched atop is head, and he looks uncomfortable at best. The problem is that he looks dashing, the handsome prince he’s rumoured to be, and the ladies staring at him make you more annoyed than you’d like to admit.

Before you can approach him, he’s pulled by the arm by his brother and they sneak into a room when no one’s looking. Curiosity hasn’t been your most rewarding quality, and you follow, feet nimble and fast.

“You’re okay with this?” Gongmyung whispers when he’s sure they’re out of earshot.

“What?”

“This? The marriage, and everything?”

“I think you’re over a year late,” Doyoung says drily.

“If you haven’t adjusted in over a year, that’s a problem, isn’t it?”

“Not what I meant. Are you really asking me how I feel about something I was forced to do?” Doyoung’s voice raises slightly. “And this long after it’s already happened? You were barely there at the wedding too!”

“Not everything you’re forced to do has to be bad,” Gongmyung says, “And I couldn’t have stopped it even if I were there.”

“Well, you’re wrong and everything is terrible. I never wanted this.”

You feel a pang of hurt in your chest. You thought he was warming up to you, when in reality, he’s probably been hating every second he’s with you. Hell, he probably blames you for the marriage like you blamed him in the beginning. You start walking away, careful as to not alert them, and Gongmyung’s chiding fades away as quick as possible.

Well, if Doyoung really doesn’t care, why should you? You take a seat in the middle of the audience, hopefully blended in and replay all your interactions with Doyoung, anger bubbling in your chest. Was he pretending to be nice for your sake? Does he think of you as some poor creature that needs pity? Or does he hate you so much that he wants to hurt you, take your heart and burn it?

A gentle tap on your shoulder snaps you out of it, and you’re met with the last person you want to see. You honestly thought your outfit was inconspicuous enough.

“Why are you here?” Doyoung asks. “You’re supposed to sit at the royal table.”

“I don’t want to,” you scowl.

Doyoung seems to be a little taken aback by your sour mood, but he retaliates nonetheless.

“You’re being childish!” he accuses. “What’s got you so upset?”

You.

“Is that what you think of me? A child?” you grumble.

“You’re certainly acting like one,” Doyoung says, his lips curled into a frown.

“I don’t care, I don’t even want to be here,” you say, getting up to leave.

Doyoung grabs your arm, and even through the silk gloves, his touch is as cold as ice.

“Let me go,” you says, your voice low, and Doyoung complies with a nervous gulp.

You don’t speak to him the rest of the day, and go to bed early just to avoid him.

Doyoung spends the next few days wondering what went wrong, why you’re either avoiding him or getting into more and more arguments with him. He hates it, the way he loses his temper with you, how you’re the one seeing this side of him that no one has seen with the exception of his brother. He hates this part of himself, and you’re the last person he wants to be seeing that.

The morning starts with yet another argument, and Doyoung sighs internally. Sometimes he wishes he could shut your pretty little mouth with a kiss, but the thought itself is weirdly embarrassing to Doyoung, and his face gets too hot when he thinks of it. Will he ever be able to tell you? That he’s fallen for you despite his best efforts, despite fate being against the two of you?

Why had he? Is it because he felt like a boy, not a prince, with you? Or is it because how easy it’s become to talk to you? Maybe the fact that you’re almost as good as him at pulling up strategies, and coming up with efficient design plans. Whatever it is, the blooming feeling in his chest cares for none of that, only seeking to be with you. This isn’t the kind of falling in love he thought he’d experience as a child—in fact, he didn’t even think he’d have time for it. The princes in the storybooks were hardly like him; they were strong and stupidly brave, extremely impulsive much to Doyoung’s distaste. He just assumed that’s the kind of men that women liked, and he directed his attention towards more pressing matters, like learning war strategies and how to rule. It’s not like he had a choice, but he can’t lie that he didn’t enjoy those classes.

“I don’t…I don’t feel good enough,” you say, and Doyoung snaps out of his thoughts.

He sighs. “You keep giving excuses. Tonight’s the main event, with the fireworks and all, you know?”

“I just don’t want to go,” you say, crossing your arms.

“You act like such a child sometimes,” Doyoung complains, at the end of his wits.

“You don’t even understand me,” you say, your voice low. “I have my reasons and you keep treating them like rubbish, like they don’t really matter.”

“Well, you’ve never told me them,” Doyoung says, rising to his full height. He loves the way you have to look up at him, your lips slightly parted, and oh, how he wishes you had met under different circumstances, had different feelings for each other, anything. Mostly, he wishes you would see him the way he sees you.

“You’re just picking fights on purpose,” Doyoung whispers, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Wouldn’t that make it easier?” you ask.

“Make what easier?”

“Us.”

Doyoung doesn’t respond—he still doesn’t understand, why are you looking at him so cold? Was he misunderstood, did he do something wrong? He hates the uncertainty of unspoken words, usually preferring to talk things out. But you definitely didn’t want to face him, so he let you go, the feeling in his chest weighing him down.

Doyoung admits that you look pretty in the royal dresses, but you look prettier in your nightgown gazing at the stars. Stars are too romanticized in his opinion, but they feel important when you look at them like that. The night is as majestic as it was planned to be and Doyoung sighs in relief when one by one all the events turn out to be a success. The only blemish on the perfect nights seems to be the fact that you are still ignoring Doyoung, darting from corner to corner, always out of his grasp. His frown deepens, watching you talk and laugh with almost everyone; your old friends are there too and he can’t help the jealousy sprouting in his chest. He doesn’t feel like the High Prince of the North, Kim Dongyoung, but more like a little boy, who’s losing his patience and maturity by the minute.

The last shred of Doyoung’s self-control vanishes when one of the southern princes wraps an arm around you. He strides over to your group, flashing the sweetest smile that sickens even him and excuses the two of you. He holds your hand tender but firm and pulls you out of the celebratory hall.

You know you’ve probably gone too far with your temper tantrums when Doyoung pulls you outside the hall. Yes, you’re being a little childish maybe, but at the end, you don’t want to be the one with a broken heart, forced to be with the one who broke it. If you told him, would he laugh at you? Or would he tell you he’s sorry? Would you be forced to live with the shame, the rejection, the strangling feelings? It’s better to distance yourself from the beginning, let the fights warm you with their fire if love won’t.

Doyoung’s grip on your hand is slightly uncomfortable—he’s wearing those cursed gloves again and not even the silk ones. You know he likes his hands at a comfortable temperature but it’s ridiculous how he never seems to part with them.

“Do-doyoung,” you say, pulling at his hand so he stops and turns to face you. He looks dishevelled, a slight anger in his eyes and lips pursed.

“My hand,” you say.

“Sorry,” he chokes out, retreating his hand. He looks as though he’s fighting several thoughts, deciding what to do. He bites the inside the inside of his cheek, and you smile at how he looks like a rabbit, like a mountain hare you’ve seen around here to be precise.

“What’s so funny?” Doyoung asks, furrowing his brows.

“You,” you laugh.

“Oh really now?” He raises an eyebrow. “Last time I remember, you said I’m not very funny.”

“Your face is funny.”

Doyoung scowls, but seems to regain composure.

“Are you going to tell me now?” he asks, his expression back to determined. “What did I do?”

“What did you do? You did nothing.” Exactly. You did nothing.

“Do you blame me?” he asks, stepping closer. “For the marriage?”

“Not any more than you blame me,” you tell him.

There’s a long silence before Doyoung responds, his voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t blame you.”

“Then I don’t blame you,” you say, truthfully. You never have blamed him.

Doyoung runs his fingers through his hair, a sudden but small smile gracing his lips. He steps closer once again, and clears his throat as if he’s about to say something. He looks a little nervous, like what he’s about to say carries weight, like it’s a secret others can’t know. He glances down at your lips and your heart catches in your throat. Despite everything, you still find your voice, still gather enough wits to joke.

“What? You want to kiss me? Hm?” you tease, the sarcasm dripping. Your voice goes down a notch as you grin. “Place your mouth over mine in the dark corridors where no one is looking?”

“Don’t provoke me,” he responds, the vein in his neck appearing to aid the strain in his voice. The sudden seriousness surprises you, and you find yourself face to face with a rather pissed off Doyoung. It’s never nice when his voice drops lower than usual.

“It’s just a stupid show to you, isn’t it?” he starts, the anger obvious in his voice. “You’re okay with just pretending- it doesn’t really matter to you, right?”

You don’t say anything and he continues, “Do you even know how hard it is? To be the one in love in a one-sided relationship? Do you even care?”

You stare at him in stunned silence. “It’s awful, you know? I tried, I tried my best, but do you know how hard it is to not touch you? To not hold you, to just throw my feelings away? Of course not. You don’t know how scary it is- I feel like I’ll burn at your touch.”

“There you go with assuming again,” you grumble, before raising your voice to a proper volume. “You really think I don’t know the feeling? When all I’ve been wanting is for you to kiss me this entire goddamn party?”

Doyoung purses his lips. It’s not a regular sight, him being speechless. He unconsciously moves forward, and you press a hand against his burning cheeks.

“Doyoung,” you whisper, sudden boldness coursing through you, “Kiss me.”

Doyoung doesn’t waste a moment, cupping your face and leaning in. The feeling is exquisite, far more than anything you’ve tasted, or smelt, even if Doyoung bumped his nose against yours a little too hard at first. He takes his time kissing you, the repressed feelings pouring out as though this is his only chance at redeeming them. The pressure against your lips is the warmest thing you’ve felt in the northern kingdoms, and you smile against Doyoung’s lips. He pushes you against the wall for better support, and you find your arms moving to wrap around him, subjecting yourself to him and his touch as much as you can. He tastes sweet, like the wine he had tasted earlier and the kiss is slow, fulfilling and perfect.

“Please get rid of those stupid gloves,” you murmur against his lips.

Doyoung removes them wordlessly, and discards them into some corner, before pressing his thumb against your cheek. His hands are warmer than you remember, and you take them in yours to kiss his knuckles. If he wasn’t red enough already from the kiss, he turns redder and you feel your ego swell some more. You lean back in, and your lips press gently against his this time, and he hums in satisfaction. You kiss in the dark corridors where no one can see you, but it’s the kind of kiss that is supposed to be spoken of only between two.

“You’re very stupid,” Doyoung tells you in the morning, eyes still sleepy.

“I was expecting a ‘good morning, love of my life!’ but okay,” you glare at him. It’s the first time the pillows aren’t there between you, but Doyoung’s touch is as good and soft as any.

“You made me so worried the past few days,” he says, a frown making its way onto his face.

“You didn’t look very worried when your tongue was in my mouth.”

“Do you have to be this way?” Doyoung says, his face and ears a brilliant red.

“I was kidding but I couldn’t resist the idea of your blushy face,” you say, smugly.

“I don’t think that’s a word, and I swear I’ll get back at you one of these days,” he says, glaring.

You smile and place your fingers on Doyoung’s cheek. You’re glad to find them still warm from the sudden rush of blood. Doyoung smiles back, his lips stretching into his adorable gummy smile, and the mushy feeling comes back at the sight.

“I didn’t know it would turn out this way,” you say.

“Me neither,” he breathes out.

You move closer to Doyoung and rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest, all of them give you a feeling you didn’t think you’d be able to feel after getting married, after handing over your freedom. The touch of a lover, kisses pressed against your mouth, they were all stories made to charm little princesses. And although you know they came at a cost, you wouldn’t take it back. You don’t regret it, not at all now. Doyoung gives you peace, a different kind of freedom altogether and you wouldn’t ever let that go.

Doyoung rubs his thumb in circles at the small of your back, humming a familiar tune. You cherish the moments now, for you never know what the future is hiding. You know you’ll be throwing a lot less tantrums from now on—Doyoung likes talking it out, and for once, you’ll admit it’s the better way to sort problems. It’s the way the little things mesh to bind your lives that makes you see clearly. You’re lucky—you really are, to have fallen in love with the man you were supposed to. But you’re blessed to have fallen in love with a man who fell in love with you, who you wouldn’t regret spending the end of your days with.

[bunkernine]

oh man those tags legit made me think you were leaving. i was so sad! ur like my favourite blog/author!

at first it started out as a joke, and then i did some real reflecting about it. i was registering about the # of fics i have (almost 60 tagged with vg naturally), and like gifts given/recieved, and my nonsense unfinished series, and what ive been doing for the past few years. a lot of the things i did in 2014 (and before) are completely different, and im happy to see how much that has changed. in 2014, i didnt think i would ever be someone involved in fandom, so its surprising to look back on it all 😅

my ao3 bio always has a goal for valgrace, and right now it says to reach 300 (we're only a few short!!!) and that goal has changed a lot over the past few years. it used to say 200, then 250. kinda crazy to see that happen, and i love the progress. my first fic (not on ao3 because 😬) said something about how i thought vg was kinda good and LMAO look at where we are today. but yeah, that goal of 300 is def gonna change to 350, and im gonna stick through 😤😤😤. everyone hates leo and thinks jason's boring and im here to clown/defend them!!! 💕

anyway, it was just me rambling. ive thought about moving more seriously into another fandom but always failed to, 'cause as gross as pjo can be, you guys are so wild. literally its like being in hell sometimes but i keep coming back for reasons i do not know 😭 call me nico cause i be dead inside but still sticking around 😎

[nonclassyparty]

firstly, tell me why i had that wooyoung shit figured OUT LMAOOO. I literally called it HAHAHA. the way i knew this fool was part of the fruit community

i love the idea that like this story and your writing in general continues to make me go, men ain’t shit fr. but then my tiktok has san getting scared while playing video games and mingi being called pink princess like 🧌.

reading this story with the prologue in mind is insane bc i get that technically no one has really done anything wrong yet ? per se. but san rlly is or ig…is going to be? a grade a asshole.

atp i can understand that sans not at fault (YET apparently) bc like, let’s be real LMAO the agreement was set in place and even y/n herself UNDERSTANDS it, she just continues to play into it bc of her feelings. i cant imagine how san ACTUALLY ends up fucking up (ig putting aside the fact that he couldn’t even be a friend or at the very least an acquaintance and help her w her assignment). like ik y/n probably WILL get mad but she doesn’t rlly hav the right to get mad at him for kissing that girl watever her name is cus she and san aren’t exclusive. but like regardless of the fact, i’m stil obv rooting for y/n bc she’s going through it and she’s being treated terribly by so many ppl for stupid reasons, esp w the knowledge that they all think so shallowly of her and don’t take into account any of her actual interests or experiences like damn.

AND THEN there’s like the fact that (entirely from context and my assumptions alone) y/n didn’t even outright SAY any of this or tell san how she felt until she wrote that letter AFTER THE FACT like ??? that’s INSANE like my brain is scrambling to finish the puzzle before i even hav all the pieces. like ik u said ur not sure about the ending but does san get the letter ? do we even see how he reacts to it ???? (i’m assuming she’ll tell wooyoung or hongjoong tbh)

ALSO i can’t get over the description of why yunho doesn’t like y/n like…damn, homie’s giving incel energy. giving nate jacobs wanting maddy to be a virgin energy (but not nate jacobs wanting maddy cus yunho apparently can’t handle high maintenance bad bitches). idk he’s giving very small peepee, in the closet, daddy issues energy and yeosangs got his own issues that we don’t even know about yet like don’t let me find out i’ll probably lose it.

i’m LITERALLY rambling nonsense and i’m at work rn. anyways amazing work ONCE AGAIN. i cant get over how you write and how you flesh out the characters. cant wait for my boy mingi to be properly introduced. let’s see how my emotions handle that.

-🧃

there is so much to discuss in this message hold on;

first of all, wooyoung being part of the skittles squad well idk how you got that right i'll be honest with you

this is exactly why when i write i have to stay away from atz content bc i went and watched the new wanteez eps today and i just cant write afterwards bc san is so fawking soft and precious how am i supposed to write him as a fuckboy that breaks hearts??? at one point i was like 'damn i shouldve picked someone else as the fuckboy for starring role' and not HIM😭😭

about san fucking up, it will happen in act 8 and i cant say anything else without giving away spoilers but yes! san never promised her anything, yn is aware of it and she knows where the two of them stand deep down but she just doesnt want to accept it (spoiler: that will basically be what the next chapter is about). also keep in mind that the story doesnt end with the letter, there are a couple more chapters afterwards 😭

YUNHO. WAIT NOT TOO MUCH ON HIM?? thats still my man but i wasnt really going for that sort of energy but now re-reading the part about him, i could see why it might've came off like that 😭. basically, with yunho i was going for the type of guy that doesnt like spoilt girly girls who care about makeup, clothes and are shallow, that only dates girls who, by his standards, have some depth to them and are sorta not-like-other-girls but in a pinterest cottage core aesthetic way (kjsghdjfhkfdj??? idk if that makes sense but he likes sweet girls who he can bring back home to his parents basically. its pretty much what svoh yn was) and yet he would still sleep with starring role yn without a doubt 😭. he was inspired by many guys ive meet in college

yeosang's storyline...im kind of nervous about revealing it tbh, also mingi will be properly introduced in the next chapter! as something much more than just boyoung's friend.

thank you so much for this message, i always look forward to yours in particular and theyre so fun to read. i really appreciate them. i hope you have a good day 💝

[sningo-prompts]

Ok but what if Ingo accidentally ate something his particular breed of Sneasel can’t. Like maybe for the regular breed it’s fine and Emmet didn’t think anything of it but… Hisuian Sneasels don’t share the same immunities as Johtoian Sneasels, they are quite literally an extinct breed of sneasel for a reason and probably didn’t adapt a tolerance for things a normal sneasel would have, like certain types of food that are poisonous or unhealthy to certain breeds of dogs that others that have developed a tolerance for.

I couldnt think of what he could have a reaction to so im just gonna not fill that in (if i had to pick something i was gonna pick raisins they casue kidney failure in dogs but i dont want to make it too serious sooooo)

Ok so hi writing liz here. I spent like so long on writing the set up. Its 3:22am and im still writing the set up. Ok i had a thought of taking the whole thing out and just writing the key points here then making a full post for what i have. Yea im gonna do that but im gonna leave this note here.

Another note. Its 4:05 and i just realised i wrote this whole thing for food poisoning instead of allergy. Sorry im having a spout of food poisoning myself at the moment so its just on the brain. Damn you local dominos.

Ok so key points only LETS GOO

Ingo tried to hide it from Emmet. Emmet does a lot for Ingo now and Ingo feels bad about it. He used to take care of Emmet.

I headcanon Ingo cooked for them and Emmet sucks at it.

Emmet knows Ingo feels bad about not being able to take care of Emmet, let alone himself, so Emmet has to keep a closer eye on Ingo since he wont tell him if something is wrong. So you just get Ingo poorly hiding his pain/sickness and Emmet hyper aware of Ingos state.

Im gonna say it gets pretty bad. Like Ingo is awake halfway throught the night stubbornly trying to tuff it out when hes just like “yea no something is very wrong i need help” so he goes to wake up Emmet, who is totally awake and totally wasnt about to drag Ingo to a pokemon center in the next five minutes. Emmet rushes him down and finds out its food poisoning. Which Emmet is completely surprised about because he researched everything Sneasels can and cant eat. He picked that food because it was supposed to be safe damn it. The nurse suggested maybe its because his typing is different.

Oh side note Emmet pretending Ingo is just his pokemon drives him up the wall. He hates making his brother feel like a lesser being.

Anyway Ingo has a good three days of recovery ahead of him. Hes tired. Hes in pain. Hes dehydrated. Hes shaky. And he cant keep anything in his stomach.

Now i have given myself food poisoning many many times (im banned from cooking chicken at 3am now) so i know it just sucks. No you arent leaving the house dont bother. You ate too weak to try probably. Drinking lots and lots of water feels like its doing nothing but doctors say it helps so *shrug* do it. It hardly matters what you eat it isnt staying long. Vomiting is the worst. Though tbh my stomach has serious acid lvl problems soooo idk i might be a bad example for how bad vomits should burn. Dehydration adds a lot of the symptoms tbh. If you share a bathroom with someone rip them, because you live in there now. Ok again im a bad example because i pretty much live in the bathroom as is. I shower when im sick. Like a lot. If im sick then i spends hours in there. At least if i have to vom im in the shower ya know. Idk. I should when i write these posts mostly.

So Emmet is going to take his normal levels of peotection of Ingo and dial them up to 11. He feels at fault for this after all. Ingo is too weak to shove his brother off right now. Emmet isnt going to work at all till Ingo is in full health again thats for sure. Queue sofa living. Emmet only left the house to go to the store to buy sports drinks and oatmeal. Maybe banana or two as well. You may think these are weird choices but trust me fam you dont want anything else. The sports drink gonna help with the dehydration and the oatmeal/bananas help keep your stomach in less of a mess. That is once you get to eat. When going through the main symptoms Ingo cant reslly eat or drink anything without making himself worse. Emmet hates it. I mean so does Ingo but duh. Seeing his brother in pain again is something Emmet never wanted to do. But its worse this time. He blames himself for his mistake. Even though there was literally no way for him to know, wel talking it over with Ingo but he thought he had it covered. Queue Ingo trying to comfort Emmet while sick making Emmet feel worse. I saw a headcanon that Emmet stress cleans so the whole time hes not by Ingos side hes cleaning something.

Once Ingo finds out what had been going on he can help keep his diet in order. He knows what hisuin sneasels can and cant eat after all. But thats not till everything is said and done.

Ok its 4:21am im done i got nothin else for this one. I do have like the other post in the works but my phone is at 4% so its gonna have to wait. Sorry i missed the allergy thingy. I dont have many food related ones. I assume Emmet gets worse off for stress because food allergies are crazy bad news. Your throat swells. You cant breathe. Oh Ingo could have died. Yea Emmet isnt good

[tweedfrog]

im sorry, but reading ur last couple posts it kinda sounds like you think Ned should have been more overtly racist and bc he wasn’t grrm is racist, but on the flip side giving arya prejudice thoughts also makes grrm a racist and a bad writer? like grrm for sure has dodgy bits but you’re giving him a bit of a no win scenario here. if he had made the targs black like originally planned do you think that would have been better or worse? (1/2)

ok im going to address this point by point because there is a lot of reaching and misunderstanding here

1. I am not here to present a ‘win’ scenario for GRRMs writing. I am discussing the shortcomings of the way he writes racism and yet uses racist tropes. A lot of these are as you state ‘no win’ scenarios because he decided to craft a world where racism exists while having extremely few characters of colour in important positions, AND while using racist tropes. There are many no win scenarios simply because of this tension.

2. I dont want Ned to be a more vocally racist character? And please point out where I said that Grrm was racist because Ned wasnt portrayed as having overt anti-dornish sentiment? I stated that because GRRM created a world where racism exists everything now has to be analysed bearing that in mind. It’s the same as stating that because misogyny exists in universe male characters are possibly (and likely) somewhat misogynistic and their interactions with with women and the way they treat female characters must be analysed in such a way.

Me stating that anti-dornish racism could have been a possible reason why Ned reacted less vehemently to the deaths of Elia and her children is me analysing it within the frame-work that GRRM set up. I’m using this to point out that when white authors add fantasy racism into a story they dont see the raicst implications of what they are writing because they dont understand the way racism impacts almost everything in real life.

For example in our world when non-white children or women go missing or are murdered their deaths are much less publicized than when white women or children get murdered or go missing. So yes racism affects the way that people are treated in such scenarios and when you decide to include fantasy racism in your story you have now included all of this extra stuff and need to do work to make sure that what you are writing does not perpetuate or enforce racism.

3. I literally never said arya having racist thoughts made GRRM a racist and bad writer. I have no clue where you got that. I used Aryas remark to highlight how anti-dornish sentiment clearly exists in the North because 9 year old children dont develop racist ideas in a vaccuum.

4. Where did I ever state that everything that happens to the martells was a micro aggression? I’m also confused as to where you got the word “micro” from??? Because idk about you but things like characters not really caring about the rape and death of a non-white woman and the deaths of her biracial children, a child being shunned because they “smelled dornish” and dornish women being hypersexualised in the narrative are some pretty macro aggressions.

5. Finally you deciding to ‘not discuss the essoss stuff’ is missing one of the main points of what I am trying to say. GRRM’s writing isnt racist because sometimes bad things happen to the Martells. The combination of his writing of the dothraki as savages with no introspection when compared to the free folk, the brutal killing of many martells for shock value, the contrast between the way he portrays Lyanna and the way he portrays Elia, the exotic/erotic trope he uses when writing dornish women, the fact that he hasnt named the princess of dorne while all her male counterparts have recieved names AND backstories and the fact that he made a white character the centre of the essoss plotline and a whole host of other decisions combine to make his writing....kinda racist. If it happened one time it may be a coincidence. If it happens about 10 times its a pattern.

Would it be racist if the Starks were written as inuit and then split up? Probably - given the history of murder and brutal seperation indigenous families have faced! Would making the more visibly indigenous stark children plainer while making the more white passing stark children better looking be racist? Probably - considering the way that eurocentric beauty standards are still upheld! With GRRM his issue is that he doesn't use 1 or 2 racist tropes in isolation. That could be a mistake. He uses several in succession.

Regarding the Targaryens being Black I think that if he wrote them in exactly the same manner (unlikely given how he treats other characters of colour) it likely wouldnt be racist but that the fandom probably would take it as an excuse to be racist.

So now that weve gotten through all of that straw-man criticism about my “take” I’m actually going to suggest some ways that he could have still written about fantasy racism without accidentally perpetuating it

1. If he is going to brutally kill off Elia he needs to AT LEAST have more discussions surrounding her death. Who Elia was as a person (dont just make her a sad cardboard cut out - I want to see some background on who she was outside of being an abandoned wife and mother). One story about Elia by Oberyn isnt enough. I also want to see more societal shock about Elias death because theres a weirdly small amount. The rape and murder of the crown princess shouldve been an extremely huge scandal and should have horrified many more people.

2. Theres no real way to kill off two non white children and have their white sibling be a prophetic hero without dicey implications so Aegon needs to survive and be the actual Aegon and not a secret blackfyre. We dont know if he is a secret blackfyre or not so this may just be a case of the fandom taking an excuse to be racist and running with it

3. Have more Dornish characters that dont die brutally for shock value (Elia, Oberyn, Quentyn). Furthermore when you only have 2 povs of dornish characters,,,,and you kill one of them off, yes that is not a great look

4. Dont introduce the only WoC pov in the whole damn book nipple first and as a blatant play on the brown seductress when she has legitimate political concerns and greivances

And thats only the dornish characters! With the dothraki and most of essoss just.....anything aside from what he’s done would be better. But of course im sure none of this is actually racist writing decisions. No its simply complex characterisation of course!!1!

[hoteltrivagoallday]

Another Headcannon by my friend-

“Oki so mina was in bakugo's room, chilling and shit when she found the book heartstopper. She was taken back on why he would have a rommance novel and why this one. She was reading the book(like a noisy bicth) and found a piece of paper saying" I love the way ur lips feel. They make me feel like im touching a cloud" but this wasnt bakugo's handwriting. So she called her best man, denki. But denki couldnt firgure out who wrote it, thus the serch began.

They looked in everyone 's books to see who worte. Every single student in the school. And they failed. Mina went back and got the book and it had a next note" ur smile is like a lunar eclipse, so rare but when it happens, it so beautiful" She showed denki and the duo showed sero, sero had an idea of the person/persons who wrote it. All of them girls, but when the duo questioned these ladies all of them said no

Sad that they couldnt firgure out who wrote it and started to give up they decided to go back into bakugo's room and check the book. This time denki found a letter from bakugo to his parents" Listen, I dont care what you guys think or say but I'm gay. I know it's a shook and stuff but it's the truth, I've been trying to tell you guys since middle school but yall are way fucking dumber than my classmates and couldn't get a hint, so I'm writing it to you guys. Now stop asking me to find a girlfriend. P.S I'm dating someone" denki screamed when read this and gave it to mina, and they ran to the first person who they knew for a fact was bakugo would date. Midorya.

When they questioned midorya about this(he was lifting weights while they were questioning him) he dropped the weights and scream" W-WHAT? KACCHAN AND I COULD NEVER DATE !NO WAY! Idk who's the poor soul who fell inlove with him! Plus I'm dating tenya so yeah" Denki looked like his soul left his body and mina truned white and just mummered"holy fuck-"

So mina and denki were stuck. Who and why would someone date bakugo. So they started asking around and everyone said no. Now this Detective duo didnt know that bakugo was hearing about their behavouir, so being the devil he is he found each and every love letter his one and only left for him big and bold in the open just to make the duo upset cus they couldnt crack the case.

To bakugo's poor dismay, when he did that sero was with them. You see, sero knew one of these letters cus todoroki told him he saw the person wrote it. So when he say that particular letter, he ran to todorki(mina and denki behind) and shouted for the whole of japan to hear " MI AMOR REMEMBER WHEN YOU TOLD ME YOU SAW SOMEONE WROTE A LOVE LETTER TO BAKUGO?!"

Todoroki in the common room with the whole class shouting back" yh . Kirirshima wrote it" I kind you not the whole fucking room said simultaneously said "KIRISHIMA WHAT NOW" With pure shock and a "what in the fucking fiddle stick " facial expersion plastered all over their faces. All expect mineta and jirou. So now the whole class is screaching for kiri and bakugo to comfirm the blow that todoroki just dropped

After screaching for the "couple" they finally found them on the rooftop.Bakugo was laying on kirishima's thighs asleep, while kiri was was writing something on a page on muttering something. To be honest it was such a cute sight, cuter than seeing mina and uraraka cuddle, but ofc the moment was ruined when deku opened his bigass mouth and scream" KACCHAN U BICTH SINCE WHEN U WERE DATING AND OUT OF ALL THE PPL WHY THE DAMN SHARK"

Poor kiri, spined around so fucking fast u could hear his neck bone crack. "Wha- WHAT ARE U ALL DOING HERE?" He said in a flusstered, soft yell trying not to wake up his peaceful, sleeping boyfriend. "Kirishima why would u date bakugo" momo said in a dissapointed voice" the same reason you fell inlove with the purple version of shirabu" Momo was bout to jump kiri for saying that" Answer the question kirishima" Denki said

Kirishima just looked at him, and Denki knew he was right. Denki slowly looked at Mina , with the most dissapointed and confused look, Mina looked like she was about to cry. They all stood in slience until Tysu said" Did u guys have sex?" I kid you not bakugo woke up so fast and bolted towards tysu so fast all you can see was a yellow light grab Tysu. He whispered something into her ears wich made her face turn a bighter pink than mina. Bakugo turned around and said" I've been dating shitty hair since thrid year of middle school, now fuck off you homosexual dumbass extras" and just walked away.

Kiri looked so scared and just ran. It took everyone ten seconds to recongize what just happen,as soon as they did, Midroya, Momo and Mina chased after the couple as fast as possible, while everyone else was like "wtf". For a good 3 months the couple was questioned continuously about their relationship, but they didnt say anything. Bakugo now has a lock on his door and mina and denki got their asses beat”

[alientrashlord]

How is everyone ? Hope youre all doing well. Sorry i haven't been online in a long time. My dad had cancer for 3 years and then he caught covid pneumonia, passed away on December 1, 2020. My world has been flipped upside down. The man who wrote my dad's will did it wrong. I was suppose to keep 5 out of 21 acres that ive lived on since i was 3. Also i would get 65% of the rest of the property, his business, and machinery/tools. The problem is, he did not have two witnesses sign the paper at the same time. Plus the dates were not on the same day. So now, i have a 20+ older half sister that never ever wanted to do anything with my dad. Like he wasnt the best Damn dad on earth. So now i lost my dad, and my home. I'm still here for now but I have court on Friday with my cousin who stole a bunch of my dad's stuff. IF he brings it back before Friday we don't have to go. But i doubt it. Then either we find a high price buyer or it all goesto auction and it gets split 50/50 with me and her. I'm so afraid that I'm not going to get enough money to fully start over. And I'm so not ready to lose this place. My dad put his blood, sweat, and tears for 25 years into this place. It was all just swamp land and forest when we moved here. Now it is this beautiful home full of nature and peace. Then i quit my job in March and i havent been working since. Idk where I'm going to be moving to so I'm not sure where to find a job. I don't just want to quit on a company. We also had to get an eviction notice for this crazy bjtch living in an RV on the property. My electric use to be around 300$ a month but now it's over 2000!!!! And i can't pay that. Oh and I lose My temper all the time now and the whole day was bad and then I lost My fork when I was about to eat and i got mad and punched a wall. Broke my pinky knuckle, doctor called it a boxers fracture. I'm getting a cast for it tomorrow. OH AND MY SHITTY HALF SISTER IS TRYING TO BUY MY HOME TOO!!!! 😡😡😡😡😡

We didn't have a fridge for like the first 4 months after my dad died because the air compressor in it went bad. Our furnace took a shit too so now we don't have heat. Im hoping we can get in a place before winter. Im so afraid im going to have no place to go and have to live out of my car that has old stickers, no insurance, AND i havent been able to pay it so now theyre looking to repo it. I need a place in Michigan for me and my bf and our 12 cats and 2 dogs. Also if you live near Elkhart, IN and want a kitten let me know!! I'm hoping to keep at least 6 of them. I just love them all so much. I need a break.

😢😭😰😥😞

[thatsallotadamage]

I don't have any specific characters in mind, but this bit of dialogue has been stuck in my head for a while "You didn't spend all that time getting me to respect myself just for me to forget it the second you fuck up." so like... idk here's this if you want to use it??

Shoji knocked on the door to his friends room. It had been a long day around UA after some training incident and Tokoyami had been locked in his room since classes ended. He usually spent some time out in the common area with him and Hagakure or even hanging out with Todoroki in his room, but he checked there and the boy hadn't been nesting in that room. "Tokoyami, are you in there?" He asked, knowing damn well the answer, but as he waited there wasn't a sound.

He took a deep breath and knocked again "Dark Shadow, are you in there?" He asked it.

"Yeah we're in here" they replied and quickly unlocked the door before Tokoyami could protest.

Shoji walked into the stereotypically emo looking bedroom with the occassional pride flag or poster strung up on the wall. In the corner of the room he saw Tokoyami curled up in his "nest" as he called it with Dark Shadow coiled around him like a security blanket, it seemed to be in low spirits aswell. He shut the door behind him and walked over, holding three protien bars and sat down. "I figured we could have dinner together since you guys don't feel like coming downstairs" he suggested. Dark shadow was the first to bend, they quickly snatched the protien bar from him and started munching on it.

"Well, Fumi you need to eat" he said. The other groaned and took the protien bar, munching on it "Thank you Shoji".

The three sat in silence for awhile before Shoji spoke once more "You know he isn't mad at you, infact I overheard him talking to Bakugou about how he hoped you were alright" he said and glanced at the door to make sure it was shut. For once he let his speaking nub turn back into a nub and pulled down his mask to eat with his normal mouth. He felt comfortable with doing it around Tokoyami since the other had encouraged him so much about his appearance.

"Why? Why is he worried about me when I'm the one who- who-" he threw the wrapper in frustration and Dark shadow hurried to pick it up "Fumi dont throw things!" They scolded. He just glared at his quirk and took a deep breath "I'm the one who should worry about him, I bit him! I bit him like a fucking- like an animal!".

Shoji was no stranger to insults but he knew calling someone with an animal mutation quirk an animal was heinous and derogatory. Tokoyami had worked so hard to help him with his own issues, specifically about his face and arm webbing. He wasn't just going to let this slide.

"Dont say that about yourself" he said sternly "You reacted how any person in a panick would react by being forced into a headlock by mr- it's all in the forearms of all people" he pointed out.

Tokoyami looked up from his lap "I bit him Shoji! I bit Sero the nicest guy in our class and then my stress grip kicked in and I couldn't let go" he said, his voice quivering as he gripped some of his head feathers "Even Aizawa's cancel didn't work on me because it's not my quirk that's the problem it's my stupid stupid biology!" He cried out. "Do you know how terrible I felt? I couldn't let go and he was screaming his head off trying to pull away? I'm terrible Shoji, with some freaky biology like mine Dark shadow and I will never be heroes" he said.

"Well I dont know about you but I am getting a herk license" Dark Shadow said sternly.

"Not the time DS" Shoji said.

"Sorry" it said and shrunk back.

"You can still be a hero Fumikage" Shoji said, hesitantly putting two hands on his back. "Wheres your self respect?" He asked.

"Wherever the hell all the socks in the dryer go" he said with an eye roll and wiped away a stray tear from his eye. He wasnt crying, it was just a feather in his eye.

Shoji sat up straight "You really spent all this time, these past six months getting me to respect myself to the point I am taking to you right now without a mask on, only to think I'd forget it the second you fuck up?" He asked. Tokoyami looked at him as this was very out of character for him to even say the word fuck. But he had to admit Shoji was right and he was a big fat hypocrite to think himself any less a person because of his certain instincts.

"You have a way with words Mezo, tones that make me question my own understandings of things" he said, leaning against him "I'm sorry" he apologized.

"You don't have to apologize, just look at it from another angle next time" the other said and dusted the crumbs off "Should we go get some real food bow?" He asked. Tokoyami looked to be in a better mood and nodded.

___

Tokoyami and Shoji were standing in the comons kitchen eating cereal while leaned against the cupboards "And then she said-" Shoji's words were cut short when someone walked in.

"Hey guys! C'mon we're doing a campaign tonight and Uraraka's the DM!" Sero said, grinning ear to ear with excitement. Who wouldn't? Uraraka was known for the more, chaotic campaigns.

Tokoyami couldn't help but glance down at Sero's left arm which was gauged up but the sight of a black and blue bruise could be seen creeping out from under the large would.

"Are you sure you'd like Us to join?" Tokoyami asked.

Sero nodded in excitement "Course! We need a tank and a poet bard- or you could bring that character you rolled up last oneshot! The drough!" His eyes practically sparkled.

Tokoyami giggled at the memory "I'll gi grab Edward scissorhand's character sheet from my room and meet you guys in the commons" he said and headed off to find the sheet he was sure was pinned somewhere in his room. Maybe this could be fun.

____

This was legit really fun to write. It's been awhile since I wrote a drabble like this