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lipstickmarks · 2 years

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You Are In Love - S. R.

Pairing: Lawyer!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Summary: Glimpses of yours and Steve’s life together, starting with your first meeting. Fluff with 2% angst. Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: death of a parent, grief, brief mentions of funerals, smut, oral (f receiving), mention of alcohol Inspired by: ‘You Are In Love’ by Taylor Swift

There was something about weddings. Some dreamy combination of cake, champagne, and romance that made people do crazy things. Groomsmen awkwardly hit on bridesmaids, 19-year-old cousins stole sips of booze when no one was looking, uncles got far too intoxicated, and well-meaning friends shared horribly inappropriate stories.

But how often did people fall in love at weddings?

You were nursing a flute of champagne while the procession announced the bride and groom. The bride was a friend of yours from college and as she danced with her new husband, you glanced across the room and locked eyes with- well, you didn’t know his name but God dammit if you didn’t want to.

He was a stunning specimen. Tall, broad shoulders, classically handsome, a well-trimmed beard and brunette hair. He caught your eye the way a stunning piece of art does- one that you stare at trying to understand its beauty and makes you want to save it forever. Print it out, make it your screensaver, and just try to hold on to this piece of perfection.

His blue eyes were exquisite and they were locked on you. While the newlyweds slow danced to a dreamy ballad, you made your way toward tall, sexy, and handsome.

You moved discreetly so as to not draw attention away from the couple. When you landed in front of him, you realized that you didn’t have a game plan. But thankfully, you didn’t need one.

“Beautiful wedding, isn’t it?” He asked. Thank God weddings came with their own default ice breakers.

“So beautiful. I’m really happy for them.” You said, looking toward your friend.

“How do you know the happy couple?” He asked.

“I was roommates with the bride in college. How about you?”

“I loosely know the groom. My brother works with him. His girlfriend dumped a few weeks ago so he brought me.” He told you.

You frowned.

“Aw, your poor brother.”

He chuckled and gestured toward two people in the back of the ballroom leaning against a pillar and making out.

“I think he’ll be alright.”

You laughed. When you looked back at him, there was an unspoken electricity. There was something magnetic about him.

“But since my brother is already indisposed, I now find myself without a date to dance with.” He said slyly.

Your stomach did a flip at his charming words.

“You want to dance with a perfect stranger?” You challenged playfully.

Without skipping a beat, he stuck his hand out.

“Steve Rogers.”

You laughed as you slipped your hand into his much larger one.

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, now that we are properly acquainted,” He said, gently pulling your champagne out of your hand and setting it on a random table. “Would you do me the honor of being my dance partner?”

Sliding your hand into his, nothing felt more perfect.

The two of you danced through every song but the slow ones were your favorite because you got to be in close proximity to him. Eventually, both of your stomachs demanded you eat and while you shared appetizers, you also shared life stories. Steve told you how he was a lawyer and how his mom raised him and his brother by herself after leaving her abusive husband when Steve was only two years old. That led to him becoming a legal advocate for battered spouses and abused children, which made your heart lurch. Somehow, despite a rough upbringing he was the most comedic and light-hearted person you’d ever met. His jokes had you in stitches all night and he confessed that his guilty pleasure meal was french fries and milkshakes. You felt honored to get such a deep glimpse of him.

And the feeling was mutual. You told him how you were working at a publishing house as an editorial assistant and your parents split up when you were five. You also talked about how you grew up poor and had to go to community college, which sprouted an urge to want to travel the entire world. Normally, sharing such intimate details about your life made your stomach twist into knots but you felt safe sharing with Steve. There wasn’t a single fiber of you that tensed in his company.

You shared a piece of wedding cake and continued telling stories. Some were lighthearted anecdotes and some of them were deep thought-provoking queries about the universe.

The wedding had died down to a dull roar, the bride and groom having left to start their lives together almost an hour ago. You and Steve were the only people remaining that weren’t completely hammered.

“I’m telling you, he’s real!” Steve protested with a laugh.

“He is not!” You cackled. “There’s no such thing as bigfoot.”

Steve had his jacket hung on the chair behind him and the top two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. The small tuft of chest hair available to your sight was driving you wild but you kept your attention on what he was saying.

“Oh yeah? How do you know?” He said, bracing his palms on his chair and leaning forward. You two had pressed two chairs together, creating a makeshift bench.

“Because I’ve never seen any bigfoot carcasses in the woods.” You told him. It was cute how passionately he felt about bigfoot. There was a playfulness in his argument but you still adored how he felt so strongly about things so trivial.

“So? I bet you’ve never seen any bear carcasses either. Doesn’t mean they’re not real.” He said proudly.

You opened your mouth to respond but floundered. That logic was actually sound. You’ve never seen a bear carcass nor any footage of them. It might have been the champagne but your entire world suddenly flipped on its head.

When you locked eyes with Steve again, the two of you burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. The kind that pinches your stomach but makes you feel alive.

Unfortunately, the moment was uninterrupted when the wedding planner approached the two of you and told you that the ballroom would be closing soon and everyone had to file out. You and Steve weren’t bothered though. He stood up, slinging his suit jacket around his shoulder and offering his arm to you. Graciously, you took it.

When you got outside, there was a chill in the air but you didn’t care. That didn’t stop Steve from draping his jacket over your bare shoulders though. You smiled gratefully at him as he hailed a cab.

When the taxi approached, you felt a pit in your stomach. You didn’t want the night to stop. You turned back to Steve and you could see in his eyes that he felt the same. He swallowed and stared at the ground for a few moments before he gently grasped your hands in his.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut.

You were both drinking in the moment, delaying the inevitable goodbye.

“Can I see you again?” His voice was desperate like if you said no, he’d fall apart.

How could you say anything else but yes?

In the time you and Steve made a date for the following Thursday, your closet had somehow transformed from an eclectic chic wardrobe into a frumpy mess of horrifying fabrics. Of course, it was your nerves magnifying everything. You wanted this date to go perfectly. After you ripped the last dress you had off of you, you decided you’d be better off buying something new.

$120 dollars and an herbal tea later, you felt better. The dress was a stunning little navy blue number that suited your figure. You kept it in the garment bag hanging on the back of your door. It took everything in you to not put it back on and stare at yourself in it over and over again. When Thursday finally came and you put it on with the rest of your ensemble, you couldn’t help the squeal you let out.

Steve picked you up at your door, and literally looked like someone had knocked him out when he looked at you. He floundered for his words for a moment before he landed on one.

“You look phenomenal.” He said, causing your cheeks to heat up.

You gave him a compliment of the same magnitude and he led you to his car, opening the door up for you. ‘Such a gentleman’, you thought to yourself.

The date was magical. Even though it was just dinner at the Italian bistro near his place, it was like the lightning from your first encounter had struck again. You shared more details about your lives, specifically your work. You told Steve how you wanted to write a book, which he found endlessly fascinating, trying to pry bits of the plot from you (which you had yet to even develop).

He spent the entire date with your hand intertwined with his. He ordered a bottle of wine for the two of you that you polished off in no time. You shared a piece of raspberry chocolate cake for dessert and as you watched him you knew there was no other way the date was going to end.

You had found yourself sliding into his side of the booth, your hand on his chest while he whispered how beautiful you were into your ear.

“You said you only lived a few blocks away right?”

He spent the cab ride with his hand caressing your thigh and he could hardly unlock the door with you attached to his lips. You fell into his bed as easily as you fell asleep and you spent the entire night coaxing each other to earth shattering orgasms well into the wee hours of the morning.

You woke up tangled in his arms with Steve peppering kisses to your jaw and neck.

Being Steve’s girlfriend came with many perks. Steve being the main one, of course but it also came with a bouquet of red roses delivered to your office. You cooed as you read the card and sent a text thanking him.

Y/N: I love them, Stevie! Thank you. ♥️

Steve: Anything for you, doll. 😘

It also came with the perk of everyone at his office knowing who you were. You’d be lying if you said you didn't feel a sense of confidence and smugness being known by everyone in the office as Steve’s girl. You knocked on his office door and Steve smiled when he saw you holding a bag of takeout.

“Hey, sweetheart. You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He said as you walked into his embrace. He hugged you tightly and you gave him a sweet kiss.

“I knew you were working through lunch on that Antonoff case so I figured I’d bring you something to eat. You’re not working yourself too hard, are you?” You asked, threading your hands through his hair.

He leaned into your touch and sighed happily.

“I wish I could say no but this case is taking everything out of me. I’m gonna be so happy when we wrap it up on Friday. And then we can spend all weekend together, just like I promised.”

“Looking forward to it, handsome.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll leave you to it.” You turned to leave when something on his desk caught your eye.

It was a picture frame and in it was a picture of you. One that Steve had taken about a month ago when you went sailing and really liked your outfit. You picked the frame up and studied it intensely.

“You keep a picture of me on your desk?”

“Of course. Seeing your face keeps me going. Besides, I want everyone to know how much I love my girl.”

When it registered what he said, his cheeks turned bright pink.

You could cry, you really could. You set the frame down and sat in Steve’s lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. You gave him a sweet kiss.

“You love me?”

He touched his forehead to yours.

“I do. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Stevie.”

You smiled, so wide that it hurt. But you didn’t care. You were in love.

The smell of warm food woke you up from the most pleasant sleep. You climbed out of bed and walked into the living room where you saw Steve buttering a few pieces of toast. You sidled up next to him and slipped your arms around his waist.

“Smells good.” You mumble into his shoulder.

His chest rumbled with laughter.

“It’s just toast, baby.” He said, pressing a kiss into your hair. “But I do make the best toast this side of Brooklyn.”

“I will be the judge of that.” You say, stealing a piece of toast off the plate and taking a bite.

“Well?”

“Good butter to toast ratio, lightly burned, not too crunchy. I give it a 9.5.” You tell him.

His smile faltered and he pouted at you.

“Only a 9.5?”

“I’ll give you an extra half point if you give me a kiss.” You told him.

“So if I want to make it to the Toast Regionals, I have to sleep with the judge?”

You nodded.

“That’s sex politics for you.”

“Well then,” In one swift movement, Steve snaked an arm around your waist and lifted you up on top of his counter. He wedged his way in between your legs, his abs pressed against your center. He tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you close to him, his lips ghosting over yours. “If that’s what it takes.”

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, tongue sliding against yours which elicited a moan from you. His fingers danced up your thighs and pulled your underwear down, haphazardly throwing them off to the side. He detached from your lips and kissed down your neck and chest until he was nosing at your entrance.

“Steve.” You said breathlessly. Just his mere presence was dizzying.

“Can I have you, sugar?” He asked, peering up at you through his lashes. The sight of him buried between your thighs had you clenching around nothing.

Biting your lip, you nodded.

Steve smirked and kissed your thighs for a tortuous amount of time before he finally licked a a strip up your entrance. He licked at your folds before slipping his tongue in fully and swirling it around your clit.

The warmth of his tongue and the coldness of the countertop against your ass was an intense sensation. You wound your fingers into Steve’s hair and tugged at his roots.

He smirked against you, able to tell when he was doing something that you really liked. His tongue was merciless as he ate you out, suckling at your clit but only for a moment to draw out your pleasure.

When you started whimpering and your thigh muscles tensed, Steve could tell you were close. Ever the gentleman, he didn’t keep you waiting. He ate you out vigorously, licking into you and holding onto your hips to coax you to your orgasm. When the wave of pleasure finally came over you, he licked up every bit of cum that he had been the cause of.

He took your hands in his and helped you off the counter, onto your feet. Your legs were like jelly though, so you clung to him for support.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“How about I run a bath for us, sugar?”

Steve felt his blood turn to ice seeing you in your current state. Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy and your breath was coming out in shaky exhales. The two of you stood in the cemetery and he held your hand as silent tears streaked down your cheeks.

“I hate funerals.” You said. It was the first words you had spoken all day.

He frowned and pulled you into him, kissing your hairline.

“I know, sugar.”

You looked up at him with wet eyes.

“Get me out of here.”

He obliged.

He drove you out of town, he didn’t know exactly where he was taking you until a sign for the beach caught his eye. He led you two into a secluded cove where you could sit along some rocks and look out into the ocean.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” He asked after an appropriate amount of time.

You looked over at him. You had your knees brought up to your chest and had your arms crossed over your knees. You leaned your cheek on your arms and took him in.

“You’re doing it already.” You said, your voice hoarse. “My mom really liked you. One of the last things she said to me was to not let you get away.”

Steve scooted closer to you and slipped an arm around your shoulders, letting you cuddle into him.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Steve paced around the apartment, enough to put a hole in the floor.

“Stevie, it’s only 8:47. You’ve got like 15 more minutes until you get the email.” You said calmly.

“13.” He corrected.

You playfully rolled your eyes as you continued frosting the cinnamon rolls.

An agonizing 17 and a half minutes later, Steve’s phone pinged. He paused mid bite and stared at his phone anxiously. You placed a hand over his.

“It’s gonna be okay. Deep breaths.” You reminded him.

Steve nodded and picked up his phone. He tapped it against his chin a few times before he held it out to you.

“Will you read it for me?”

You gave him a small smile and took the device from him, unlocking it and scanning over the email. Your eyes widened and you grinned at him. His eyes widened but you could tell he needed verbal confirmation.

“You got it.”

“I got it?” He asked breathlessly.

“You got the promotion!”

“I got the promotion!”

Steve barked out a laugh and ran around the island to lift you up in his arms. He spun you around, peppering kisses to your head and thanking you over and over again. You assured him that the job was all him but he reminded you that you were the one keeping him sane while he awaited his boss’ decision.

“Thank you for keeping me calm. I honestly don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

“Well let’s break out the champagne and toast to never having to find out.” You grinned at him and pulled a bottle from your wine rack and a bottle of OJ out of the fridge.

You had never been to Paris and you certainly wouldn’t forget your first trip. You and Steve shared a slow, chaste kiss in front of the Eiffel tower. It was almost midnight but your jet lagged minds could hardly tell.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. You always thought that when you got proposed to, you’d scream and run around and be in complete disbelief. But when you caught sight of it, your heart rate didn’t speed up and you didn’t scream because it felt right. Nothing made more sense than you and Steve. You two were a moment in history now, a classic pairing more recognized than tea and sugar. All your friends knew the love you shared, it was glaringly obvious that adoration radiated between the two of you for one another. Promising yourself to him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

He took your hand in his and got down on bended knee, blue eyes boring into yours. He had tears swimming around in his eyes but he wore an easy smile. He didn’t even have to ask to know the answer, but your Steve was a gentleman.

“There’s nothing in or outside of this world that I want besides you. You’re calming when I need peace and you’re an espresso when I need energy. I go to sleep every night dreaming about our future together, how we’ll argue about what color to paint our kids’ nurseries and eventually stop hosting Christmas Eve parties and just take family trips to Aspen instead.”

He opened up the box and nestled inside the fabric was a jaw dropping five carat diamond ring.

“You’ve made me grateful for the life I’ve been given every single day that I’ve known you. I don’t want to exist in a universe where there isn’t an us. I want to be a family, I want us to be together forever. I want us to be absolute, with no question that you were made for me and I, you. Will you marry me?”

It was the simplest question and the simplest answer.

“Yes.”

#Steve rogers #Steve rogers x reader #reader insert #marvel #avengers #captain america #captain America x reader #Chris evans #Steve rogers imagine #fluff #fanfic

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brotherhoodoftheblade · 8 months

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So finally I read Voyager (by that I mean, I actually read the whole thing this time, and not just John and Jamie’s chapters lol) for the first time in five or six years and I’d been meaning to jot down my impressions of it (while I still have them somewhat fresh to mind) but, typically, I’ve kept forgetting and getting distracted by other stuff. (I actually finished it nearly a month ago, but again, my mind forever is fluff on the wind it seems. *sigh*)

Since I really don’t want to end up writing another another long-winded essay about the book I’ll attempt to keep it brief. lol

Rereading Voyager once again made clear why Jamie/Claire has always been much more easily shippable for me than Jamie/John. (Even though my shipping of J/C is low-key to negligible tbh.) It’s not because the latter doesn’t have a very interesting (if ultimately too toxic for me) dynamic (even if the fascinating quality of their relationship is sometimes akin to being unable to tear your eyes away from a car crash). And it’s not because I’m too much of a puritanical pearl-clutcher to appreciate to the dark allure of a so-called toxic ship (trust me, I have far more f*cked up ships than J/J lmao).

The main reason Jamie and Claire work for me, despite the fact that they can often be pretty batshit in their dynamic, is because they’re the SAME KIND of batshit...about EACH OTHER...EQUALLY. 😂

Jamie/John just don’t have that. The batshit obsessiveness is way too one-sided. I mean, if they’re not equally in unhinged, all-consuming love with each other then what’s even the point? lol Such an unbalanced nature in a toxic ship just doesn’t sail far with me, and after a while just has me looking at the undervalued party wishing they’d locate their self-respect, get a grip, and get a damn life already! (And, yes, I’m looking at you, John. *weary sigh*)

Also, rereading the infamous “take your hand off me or I’ll kill you” scene between John and Jamie at Ardsmuir reaffirmed my initial impression of it back when I’d first read it years ago (and let’s be honest, between ADHD and depression brainfog, I don’t really begin to fully trust my own memory of books until I’ve read them a few times). That it’s wholly unethical for the governor of a prison to proposition any of his prisoners is indisputable to me, but even putting that aside, the whole exchange still came off pretty questionably to me just on its own.

Jamie did nothing whatsoever to indicate that he might be receptive to that sort of attention from John. It’s like when you find yourself suddenly hit on apropos of nothing, despite having given no sign of encouragement whatsoever -- and at an inappropriate time to boot. I mean, seriously, how did John think propositioning Jamie in the wake the revelation of his grief over the loss of the love of his life was a remotely considerate time to be doing that? (If someone had tried to take advance of me in such a vulnerable moment after I’d shared something so personal with them, I’d have been bloody annoyed!)

Their exchange of shared grief was the first moment of genuine trust extended between them, a gift really, especially on Jamie’s part, and John thought that was a good time to make a move on him? And more importantly, where’s the logic in it?

Jamie had just been talking about how much he loved his wife - a woman - while having never done anything to give the impression that he was remotely attracted to John (in fact, the impression given was much the opposite most of the time), so how then did it make the remotest sense for John to risk exposing himself like that?? Especially when John’s always emphasizing how crucial it was for men like himself to be careful around other men and not make any dangerous assumptions. Extreme caution is always the order of the day when it comes to situations like this, so wouldn’t it at least have made more sense to wait until he felt more certain of the lay of the land?

Except with Jamie he already knew perfectly well he had no need to practice the same kind of caution he would’ve with any other gentleman. Jamie was a convicted Jacobite with no standing whatsoever. He couldn’t have spoken out about John even if he’d wanted to -- his word was worthless against him. (And of course, it’s in much the same tone of imbalanced power that John carried forward their strained friendship under duress during Jamie’s years at Helwater.)

Of course, despite John’s awareness of the disproportionate amount of power he held over Jamie, his intentions, at heart, weren’t remotely malicious. (He’s certainly no Black Jack Randall!) Yet, it’s still the appearance of impropriety that stands with him. Mainly because intellectually he knows better than to do half the stuff he does, but he just gets caught up in the intensity of his feelings in the moment and ends up doing impulsively reckless shit. It’s the story of his life at this point. :/ (I mean, just think how often his “brave” impulsivity or his injudicious tongue has ended up landing him straight into hot water, while instances where cravenness stilled his tongue could’ve changed the course of his life for the better if he’d only had the courage to speak from his heart.)

Another thing that stood out to me was the characterization of Frank Randall in the book in comparison to the general attitudes of animosity he receives in the fandom.

Now I can’t say I strongly ship either Jamie/Claire or Frank/Claire (though I’ve certainly found both interesting and likeable at times), so I’m pretty neutral when it comes to any shipping biases on their parts. I do feel that it’s stanning Jamie and Claire so much that’s garnered Frank so much unwarranted hatred. I mean, he’s not a saint (none of them are lol) but he also couldn’t be farther from the devil. The worst thing charge I can legitimately lay at his feet is being a racist (though it’s unfortunately pretty understandable given his age and the time period - after all, only the people who were rarely ahead of their time could legitimately have been said to have not been racist at all during a time when it was the cultural norm). 💀

But aside from the racism, Frank was a far better man than most. How many men would’ve taken Claire back after she turned up three years later, pregnant with another man’s child, whom she had married and fallen in love with even though she was already married to Frank??? And not only that, loved that child as much as if she’d been his own biological daughter? Despite the fact that just the sight of Brianna was a constant flesh and blood reminder that Claire had betrayed him? And that Claire was still in love with Jamie despite having returned to Frank. (And he even supported her going to medical school - something a lot of husbands in that time wouldn’t have done.)

And yeah, I know he cheated on her - and that’s what so many rake him over the coals for - but under the circumstances I find it kind of hard to blame him. Did Frank not deserve to be with someone who actually loved him? Unlike Claire, who only ever came back to him in body but not in spirit, and certainly not in heart! She spent all those years being emotionally unfaithful to him first, even though he was the one who’d chosen to do the honourable thing by standing by her and raising a child that wasn’t even his. It takes two people to ruin a marriage, and the efforts of both in concert to make things work. And Claire couldn’t have made it clearer that her heart was no longer in their relationship -- and that wasn’t Frank’s fault.

And the final thing that really stood out to me: the rampant fatphobia in Outlander. I mean, I’d noticed it here and there but hadn’t paid it a great deal of attention because it mostly seemed like isolated occurrences scattered throughout the books (and as I’ve said before, I haven’t fully read all of the OL books from cover to cover yet - mostly the parts with John, Percy, or others closely related to them).

But reading the whole of Voyager brought back to me how often I’d noticed similar fatphobic sentiments expressed at other times, and just how frequently, in particular, DG uses fatness to emphasize the repulsiveness of villainous characters (like with Geillis when her character is reintroduced in Jamaica). And, it’s such a common sentiment even just in passing conversation that you’ve probably already noticed it (or if you somehow haven’t, I bet you’ll start noticing it a lot more now).

Even in her parting advice to Brianna, Claire goes, “Try not to get fat”, and I was like ‘WHATTT?? She’s abandoning her daughter (who’s also lost her father and has no other relatives) and you may never see her again, and THAT’S the parting motherly life advice you have for the poor girl??? ‘Try not to get fat’?!?!” Seriously? 🙄

DG can shove her fatphobia up her arse with the rest of her toxic predilections, for all I care.😐

#my random ramblings #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #Lord John Grey #Frank Randall #anti diana gabaldon #cw racism #cw fatphobia

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dumbledoresthroughndthrough · 1 year

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Every time I read this passage my heart takes an emotional journey on the bumpiest rollercoaster. 😭

I can only imagine the turmoil Harry is experiencing. Not only is he grieving the loss of his Headmaster/Mentor and handling the trauma which came from witnessing his death, but Harry is having to deal with how little he actually knew about Dumbledore. And the guilt which stems from that, as well as the anger.

Harry regrets never taking the time to ask his Professor personal questions, that all they ever really discussed was Harry himself. More specifically the part he had to play in this war.

Here is a young man, who has never really known the love of a parental figure since the day his Mother and Father were murdered.

And when he does allow himself to attach to such figures, they are cruelly snatched away.

He is never really given the time or the proper circumstances to deepen those relationships. And with Harry being a child for 99% of the series, those relationships are sort of one sided.

As it should be really.

As a child we are much too young to worry about our parental figures, in terms of finding out who they are, beyond what they are. It's only as we grow older, that we begin to appreciate them as people and their back stories.

I feel this is what Harry is muddling through in his grief.

Throughout DH, he is bombarded with information about Albus Dumbledore, which quite frankly knocks him for six. He finds out information which he really wishes Albus had told him. Like the fact that they had both lived in Godric's Hollow, both lost loved ones there. This is mind blowing for Harry. They could have bonded over this shared history. Perhaps even have visited one day together.

But Dumbledore chose not to reveal that part of himself. And Harry is hurt, because he doesn't understand why. He had always believed that Dumbledore cared for him. Even during OotP, Harry at his core, still believed Albus cared, and that is why he was so hurt and angry throughout his fifth year. He thought that they shared a special sort of bond. And each time Harry thinks they are getting somewhere, he feels as though Dumbledore takes a step back.

I always feel that had Albus not died that night, he would have been 'forced' to reveal some information to Harry. They had after all gone through a traumatic experience together, and bonded further due to it. And I genuinely think that Albus would have wanted to reveal what he had seen thanks to that potion. He would have felt he owed Harry some answers given what he asked of him that night. But more than that, again, I think he would have wanted to tell Harry. Because he does care. But Albus being who he is, constantly has to walk a fine line. He can only connect with Harry to a certain point. Because Harry is after all, first and foremost, his student. And it would be inappropriate to share too much. But I do think, the night he died, was that first stepping stone on what could have been should he have survived.

But this is what I mean, Harry only knows what he experienced. Harry couldn't see inside Dumbledore's head. All he knew was that Dumbledore kept him at arms length, even though he claimed to care.

So when Harry finds out that Dumbledore had a shaded past, in which he revealed his secrets to Gellert, as a young man himself, Harry is incensed, and even outright jealous. Here was a dark wizard who Dumbledore is known for having defeated, who Albus had revealed his inmost self to after knowing for a few months maximum. I imagine Harry must feel cheated in some regard.

After all, Harry had known and looked up to his Headmaster for six years. He had trusted him implicitly, no questions asked. And yet he didn't hardly know anything about him personally. But Gellert bloody Grindelwald had somehow managed to gain the Holy Grail in a matter of months! If Dumbledore could share with Grindelwald, who turned out to be a dark wizard, then what was wrong with Harry? Why didn't Dumbledore want to share with him? Harry must have felt he meant nothing to his mentor. Which we know isn't true. But it must have been traumatising for a grieving 17 year old boy.

It's only after Harry has spoken to Albus in person, and Albus has at last revealed parts of himself to Harry which he is ashamed of, is Harry able to let go of his anger.

Once he sees that Albus wasn't withholding information about himself because he didn't trust Harry, but rather because he didn't want Harry to think less of him, Harry understands that Albus did and does love him.

And Harry is also now able to say that he loves Albus. Not for being the Headmaster of Hogwarts, or the Greatest Sorcerer of the age, but for being Albus. Because he now knows everything there is to know about the man. Albus Dumbledore is no longer on that pedestal Harry had seated him on. He was finally accessible and attainable. And loved.

#sorry this is a mess #ill come back and edit in the morning #harry and dumbledore #pro albus dumbledore

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cardio-girl · 1 year

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You don’t post anymore? I really enjoyed your posts

I wanted to answer this before it got buried in my asks inbox. Thanks for reaching out. I am really touched that I have fans who will send me nice messages, you're not the only one, and it makes me smile when I see them.

That being said, I have to let you guys in on a little secret. When I post it's because I'm going crazy. If I don't post for a while it's because I'm doing relatively okay, coping with my heartache in a healthier way than sharing my body with strangers on the internet. I'm happy that people get enjoyment from my posting, I really am; I do love to wake up to a hundred notes because I made two posts before bed. For the most part, I like the community of cardiophiles I've met, people have been (generally, mostly) kind; I like posting, I make the kind of content that I like to see (and that's easy to film by myself with a phone camera), I appreciate that people seem to like what I'm doing here, I also aim to please; but understand that I don't get on this blog on my saner days. Be glad for me when I'm not posting, because it means I'm carrying my grief better. Honestly I post on days when I cry a lot, because I need some kind of distraction from the deep, omnipresent sadness and emptiness, inside of, and all around me. In some ways it lets me detach from me and become this person who allows themself to put their body on public display, not for art or protest, but for sexual objectification. To top it off, most of the adoration I receive is from cis men, which I have mixed emotions about given my orientation. On one hand, people generally like the ego boost compliments can give, I'm no different. On the other, sometimes the comments I receive are quite... forward. Sometimes I feel like a comment is too racy or inappropriate, and I'm sensitive due to my situation. I've kind of laid myself bare here in a way I never felt I was capable of, again, to strangers on the internet. It's hard to be vulnerable, and I get embarrassed easily.

So I'd like to reiterate, thank you for your appreciation, but my posting habits will probably always be irregular regardless of anything. If I don't post for a while, I'm probably in a better place emotionally than when I'm posting a lot. This is my outlet, because beating the shit out of things is generally frowned upon, and nobody but us knows that I'm taking it out on my heart instead.

#i think what we're all doing here boarders between kink and self harm #i think a lot of kink does in general #but thanks for reading my essay #I've taken too many English #classes to be brief

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horoyois · 2 years

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about grief | riza hawkeye drabble

✦ a little analysis on riza hawkeye's feelings.

—pairing: roy mustang x riza hawkeye

—genre: angst (you can probably tell from the title but mentions of death and grieving, mentions of war, weapons, murder)

—word count: 1,5K

—a/n: i dont even know i cant stop thinking about her and about them and im literally going insane

Grief is a complex concept. It is not only a feeling that can mute the light in any person's eyes, but it also brings experiences that are often so vastly different that it can be difficult to recognize it. Riza reflexes on it, and, even though loss is not a foreign concept whatsoever, she wonders if she has ever grieved.

First was her mother’s passing. She doesn’t recall much from back then, her memory hazy from the loss of the only source of warmth she ever knew. She remembers the immense sadness and loneliness that surrounded her four-year-old self during her mother’s funeral, knees wet from the dew covering the meadow where her mother rests now and her own tears. It was the saddest experience of her life, even if she doesn’t remember clearly, but she still wonders if she was maybe too young to feel proper grief.

Sixteen years later she meets loss eye to eye once again, this time her father’s , and she is utterly ashamed to admit that she did not feel a single thing. This memory is much more clear in her mind — the service took place in the same graveyard on a beautiful, sunny day, a mocking weather for a funeral, really. Riza did not shed a single tear, in part because Berthold Hawkeye did not raise her like that. She’s positive that she felt sad, because losing her father also meant losing her childhood home, the Hawkeye State deteriorating to ruins at the same time as the alchemist did. She also felt overwhelmed, since her life started now and she had to decide what she would do from that point onwards. As inappropriate as it may sound, Riza was grateful that the neglect was over, grateful because she was finally free from her own cage. Grateful because Roy Mustang enlightened her path and guided her to her future, so incredibly grateful that she revealed his father’s (and hers) deepest secrets not a day after his passing. The shame came shortly after, but no grief that she could identify.

With the war came a crashing wave of guilt that accompanied her everywhere she went. Hot, dry summer days made her remember the blazing midday sun that blinded her back in Ishval. Warm colors that reminded her of the dessert made her dizzy. Every time a child even looked at her, she would feel her knees wobbly, eyes watering, lower lip trembling. The smells of gunpowder and smoke (embedded in her clothing, her hair and her whole being) gave her nausea until she joined Mustang’s unit and not even the lavender and lemon cologne she diligently sprayed every morning around the office could hide the scent of their sins. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t let herself grieve for the lives that she took with her own hands. She didn’t deserve it; she didn’t deserve closure or catharsis or leisure. She deserved to bottle every tear she felt like shedding for those innocent souls that she took looking cowardly through her scope, carry them with her and find them a new home.

It was difficult to not feel appalled for the Elrics and their tragedy. Two children, one mutilated after trying to bring their mother back to life and the other one was nothing but an empty suit of armor. Riza feels her heart breaking every time Edward talks, his eyes fiery like the twelve-year-old he is, but his words sounding incredibly wise for such a tiny body. She feels shaken when she hears Alphonse speak the first couple times, how his sweet voice gets lost inside the iron giant he’s bound to. Winry talks about them as if she feels the same grief, she shares it with them, and Riza is sure that’s exactly the case. The girl’s back is arched, shoulders slumped as if the burden she’s sharing with the two siblings is weighing on her, and Riza admires this little girl for being so brave to let herself feel. She thinks she has a thing or two to learn about her.

The years after the Elrics tragedy are a whirlwind of problems, and Riza fondly drags the Colonel and her team to give the children a hand every time. Times are difficult, but they are definitely easier than they will be after Maes Hughes’ murder. Riza Hawkeye is familiar with grief. She has seen people (Father, the Elrics, now Gracia and little Elicia in front of her very eyes) grieving; hell, she has even caused grief for hundreds of Ishvalan families. But nothing quite compares to how her heart shatters and rips at the seams when she sees Colonel Roy Mustang crying at the feet of his best friend’s grave. His grief is almost elegant, quiet but warm at the same time — nothing like Father’s silent years, or Edward’s fiery eyes, or Alphonse’s tiny voice. Roy Mustang opens his heart, lets himself be weak and vulnerable, but only when they are alone and they are not Colonel and Lieutenant, but Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. Riza selfishly feels her chest tighten with pride when he seeks her comfort and wishes she could bear that weight with him like Winry did with the Elrics. She thinks this is the closest to grief she has ever been.

Grief has always surrounded her. Maybe because it comes hand in hand with the world, with human nature; maybe because her occupation just calls for it, with the wars and the corruption and the hopelessness. Grief has always marked a before and after in the life of those around her and in hers as well, and yet it is not until the very moment she discovers ‌the Colonel has been murdered by the homunculus called Lust that she feels it in her very bones, in every fiber of her being, her every muscle tensing and tightening, especially her heart. It fills her body with an existential dread unknown to her, and she sees nothing but red until she goes through all her guns, no ammunition left, her will to live abandoning her completely. She falls to her knees, and it’s all black and white, and then she understands.

She understands that grief is a response to loss, and she’s been grieving all her life. Grieving for her mother, for how different her life could've been. Grieving for her father and their lost time, for how his neglect and indifference made her completely stoic about his loss. For the Elrics, children that could’ve had so much more, just like her, but were abandoned by their father, by themselves and by the Truth. Most of all, grieving for the lives she took during the War of Extermination, for her guilt and because she will never forgive herself. For the children, for the injustice and the corruption. For Roy Mustang, the Hero of Ishval, and for giving him the power to create hell on earth.

And she realizes that because she recognizes this feeling, this anguish from all those times, but now is being multiplied by a million and how is this going to be anything but grief when she’s about to abandon herself, her life because she refuses to live in a world without Roy Mustang? It is unthinkable that this is not grief, that she’s not mourning right now, with her cheeks stinging from her own tears sliding on her open cuts, throat raw from screaming and knees buckling until she’s kneeling on the floor. Alphonse is panicking at her ninety degree shift, and he begs her to run away, to save herself, but she has no will to live anymore. She can’t deal with this feeling for the rest of her life, and she knows she is going to grieve for him for as long as she’s breathing, so she’d rather stop it now.

And then she hears his deep, strained voice, and the world slows down just enough so she can collect and put her pieces back together. She takes a glimpse of him before Alphonse transmutes a wall between them and the Colonel, and she discerns the same relief in his eyes that she feels in her chest. They’re engulfed in the flames that the Colonel directs to Lust, and she doesn’t remember any other moment in her life where she appreciated their beauty and might.

After what feels like hours, Lust finally vanishes into ashes and Mustang collapses onto the floor. Riza does not know if she has the strength to be his Lieutenant right now, so she drops her usual mask and lets the tears flood her eyes while running by his side. He looks at her and mumbles that he’s happy she’s safe, making her retort that he should worry about himself. She knows what she sees in his eyes because most likely he can see it in hers as well, but neither of them will comment on it.

After that day, Riza wonders if grief will keep following her everywhere like a curse. She wonders if there’s a limit to it; if the feeling ever disappears, fades, or is just buried in memories and can surface and bring all the despair back. She concludes that there's more grief to come, such is their destiny, and she feels like it awaits her at every corner. Since that day, Lieutenant Hawkeye opened a door to her biggest fear, and it weighs heavy on her back; heavier than her guilt, than her secrets and her dreams and future. Grief is a shadow in every human's life, and understanding it just makes it darker.

#royai #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #royai drabble #fullmetal alchemist #fma #mine #fma fic #royai fic #character analysis #angst #fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood #fma:b #riza hawkeye fic

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ezamevolni · 2 years

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Ok seriously

This post is a bit of a marker because I don't feel qualified to call this a Jinkook tumblr anymore LOLOLOLOL

My last few posts and drafts were also very biased towards Jin and my rage for the people who raged at them. Possibly going through the five stages of grief currently. (Is the next stage bargaining? Oh dear)

My attitude towards them has always just been to admire from afar and not to pry their lives apart for validation. I probably will refrain from writing very serious analyses about them because I don't think I'm capable of staying serious throughout anyways hahaha... Shipping should be a fun and positive activity! I felt like a lecturer at clown university when I was typing out very serious things that included words like 'deduction'...'suspicious'. Let's be real here. I'm not getting paid for this and I'm not a pro writer. Reality had hit me in the face.

I still have a lot I want to express since tuning in to the shipping world, but I'm not going to be writing out the more inappropriate things anymore. Even if I *think* I have enough to go off on, it's just not my place to highlight or share such things. I think I already went far enough with one of my gifs. As in maybe there are certain moments that have some connotations - that may or may not be true in reality - but that just isn't my place as a fan to zoom in on. Even if they're celebrities and are filmed constantly, that doesn't automatically give me the right to impose whatever meaning/image I like onto them.

From now on, anything Jinkook related will be PG and I'll stay in the ambiguous realm. (Not like I have actual PROOF. y'all bts is so gay even if they kissed on the lips we'd need more proof than that)

I'm just dropping one last hook and bait here: trust me bro, Jinkook is real. You just need to drop the 'siblings' lens.

Ok, I'm closing the chapter after like 3 posts on Jinkook 😬

Very honestly saying this here in case I actually cross a line and paint Jinkookers in a bad light lol

This tumblr is just my space to relieve some thoughts and maybe find a few kindred spirits to chat with.

Everything here represents the thoughts of one fan, me. Nothing more...

With that given, welcome because I'm now feeling very comfortable about personal thoughts and rants.

Don't expect even a smidge of objectivity from me. (I haven't been this whole time.)

#shipping discourse #why so seriouszsz #don't misunderstand me im still jinkook all the way #there's more things to life than analyzing two grown men's love life #im still single maybe that's why #never too late to wake up and start dating again #help i hate first dates #love yourself everybody #time to focus on going back to school again

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thesinglesjukebox · 4 months

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OKAN - "ORIKI OSHUN"

youtube

Dorian offers us a prayer...

[8.25]

Dorian Sinclair: OKAN's invocation of the goddess Oshun has real power to it, and, as befits a deity so strongly associated with water, real depth as well. The layers of percussion, synth and violin are ever-changing, finding new ways to refract off each other as they wrap around Elizabeth Rodriguez's vocal lead. And what a voice it is -- expressive, forceful, and somehow simultaneously commanding and vulnerable. I don't speak Lucumi, but Rodriguez easily conveys both loss and resilience, as the shifting tides of the instrumentation pool around her. [10]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The religious services that I have always found meaning within are all exercises in tension and release -- the interplay of hunger, memory, and forgiveness embedded within the day long arc of a Yom Kippur service, the slow, trance-like waking of the early-morning Thai Buddhist rituals my mother and aunt would take me to as a kid. "Oriki Oshun" is not of those particular traditions, but it captures in its four minutes a similar build, sticking tight to a perfectly struck groove until the track flowers into something more, a feast of guitars and chants and rushes of drums that feels like exaltation. [8]

Will Adams: The urgency and energy cultivated in the song's main section -- with bustling percussion, Rodriguez's commanding vocal, that blazing guitar solo -- feels like it could be sustained for over ten minutes. OKAN know better, though, and restrict themselves to four minutes, allowing the silence following the prayer to speak volumes. [7]

Ian Mathers: That guitar solo feels a bit late period Santana-core in context, but in context it actually really works for me. Even without reading the description on YouTube and knowing the (personal, harrowing) context behind its creation "Oriki Oshun" feels like it earns the sense of drama and grandeur that builds and builds throughout the song. [7]

Peter Ryan: Magdelys Savigne's blistering percussion is so overpowering that it took me a few listens to key into Rodriguez's vital rhythmic violin-work that underpins most of the track, two obvious virtuosos propelling each other from vibey ceremonial first half through a tenacious conclusion. More prayers should have this urgency. [8]

Michael Hong: As prayer music should be, OKAN's offering is lively, trading electric guitar licks and urgent drums in exchange for a demand for protection. If the chant offers something repetitive, Rodriguez forces her voice to offer something more, wailing as if wondering if it's all enough. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: One of the many public narratives about Lido Pimienta was her leadership capabilities for young brown girls. But the best example of leadership is by example; Lido brought OKAN on tour with her, four months after their first album dropped. And in the time since, they have released a second, even better album, collaborated with Bomba Estéreo and Lido again, featured on Miss Colombia and lost a child. They now ask Oshun for protection for their new child's life, with a stunning violin solo that winds across the branches of the drums and trunk of the bass into an outstretched hand, waiting, the ebbing synth notes a question mark on whether they have received the blessing. A prayer we are all allowed to hear because of Lido. [10]

Tara Hillegeist: My fondness for popular culture often runs me at odds with my personal interest in leaving a stranger's grief at their doorstep, out of my earshot, where I believe it belongs unless I've already been invited in to share, communally, in their lives beforehand, to such degree that I can no longer credibly accuse myself of being unknown to them anymore. I am not willing to play the thief of another's sorrows nor call that performance "compassion." As such, upon being presented with the very real experience inspiring this song's creation, I personally felt it would be too inappropriate to engage with the song within the confines of the Jukebox format, and thus... I chose to set it aside, until or unless I could find a means to reconcile my own convictions about the use case or lack thereof for a blurb and the material at hand. It's been about a month since then. What changed my mind? Well -- I couldn't stop listening to the song itself. And it was somewhere in those listens that I realized I was making a stiff-backed fool of myself for the sake of my principles. It's difficult to hear something as welcoming, as open, as purely delightful-as-in-"full of delight" as "Oriki Oshun" and feel something besides invited in. This is songcraft as community-healing practice, whatever its origins: a plea rooted in hope, motivated by its grievous origins to kick up a righteous enough noise that it can chase that pain far, far away, where its echoes can reach home no longer. And I, at least, shall not continue to fear dancing with it, together. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#okan #music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

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boysnberriespie · 6 months

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This is gonna be a stupid comparison because the shows were never similar and I never thought of them like that, BUT it’s just for me personally, feels weird that the last two shows I’ve watched all the way through made me sob so intensely over them, but one managed to deeply touch me and move me with its handling of death and horror and grief and pain and made me really feel emotional about characters I knew would die from the beginning characters that could be so easy to just hate, and the other… just didn’t.

More under the cut because I got long winded

To be honest, I was getting death vibes before the season even started, so I had been writing all these scenarios in my head for ways I could see it being beautiful if upsetting, for ways it could be meaningful to the story even, and I just didn’t get that. I objectively don’t like the writing of this episode and it does sour some of the best moments of the season, in a season that felt so much less organized, witty, and neatly wrapped as the first. Did I think it was revolutionary? No, and frankly I did have a lot of criticisms of it that I just didn’t and don’t care to share because I’m a silly fan artist who has been analyzing books 40 hours a week for 4+ years, and I use fandom endeavors for fun. I do think the general optics and vibes of this specific writing choice were off, I think the way he’s (DJ) talked about it has been kind of weird, but most of all it just sucked? His death is meaningful in only the acknowledgement that this hurts Ed (presumably deeply, not that is really sat with), and like? I got that? I got that from the first 3 episodes? I don’t care about fairness (I do but I can live with vaguely bad optics for impactful writing), I just care that there was no real emotional importance to this on a narrative level. And since it lacks even good writing, I do feel hurt by the general bad vibes of it. I just do.

CW: I’m sort of vaguely talking about sui baiting and people’s posts in response to that, but don’t worry I am not here to downplay anyone’s feelings on the matter

That’s the end of that spiel, but for the love of god, if you see someone who seems to actually be in severe emotional distress over this and you do not have kind words or resources or literally anything but snark, please leave them the hell alone. Choose kindness for once in your life. While I think people who are saying this type of upsetting stuff to the cast and crew should not be doing that and should be (calmly and please empathetically) told why that is inappropriate, it doesn’t matter if this response is “over a TV show” they are still experiencing a mental health crisis, and as such should be treated with empathy and care. Crisis management should always be first priority before getting someone to “take responsibility for their actions.”

Anyways sorry to end that on an even bleaker more real life note, I just felt like I should say it. No I don’t think it’s fair that creators get given this emotional weight, and I do believe it’s a more serious thing that can be talked about, I just think the immediate response to admissions of crisis should not be mockery and derision.

#not many tags for this since I ended on that serious note #I think to pretend that mental health is entirely rational completely misses the point #I would discuss more of the reality surrounding suicide and a crisis of this nature #but I think that would be a seperate post #just know that it doesn’t matter if it’s ‘just a tv show’#it doesn’t matter if it’s ’just some lost keys’#it’s still a very real response that should not be mishandled

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salamifuposey · 1 year

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Lemonade - Chapter 9 - Maravi, The First

Chapter 9 - Maravi, The First

In a wide room with a black velvet piano in the middle, comes a single young faceless butler man.

His footsteps could be heard across the room, all while he made its way there, echoing through his path.

As he approached the piano, he sat in its bench and readied himself for a play.

He stretched his fingers and relaxed his hands, making his gloves comfortable.

Hoping to provide a wonderful night, his heart only eager to play the melody that comes from it.

He instinctively hovers his fingers over the keys, hesitating only but a little.

He was thinking of a melody that could help provide some ambient to the mansion, as the mirrors reflected his image. Alas, he was only one of the many faceless butlers Susanna had in her mansion.

His heart filled with grief, he remembers the harshness of the world.

Everything felt like the world was against him, only but having his piano as his only friend.

Feeling mournful most often, he still remembered that the world keeps going without him.

So he thought, "if I were ever to make the most of my living."

"... Let it be to follow my own passion, no matter how blind it may be."

As even the most faceless of person would be characterized by their own fire and passion, with their own set goals and much like anyone else, is as much human as anyone else. If the world kept going, then why can't he?

As he finally sets his resolve, he pursues his dreams, letting only those who care about him stop him, if ever to bring him back to reality and enjoy the time with those around him, while sharing his gift.

"Do I do it for money?" He asked.

"Do I do it for my own pride?"

"Do I do it, perhaps to finally get the attention I seek?"

He paused and considered about it.

"... I do it because it flows in my veins."

"... It's like a image or a song stuck replaying, going over and over, not wanting to stop."

"... How foolish would it be wanting to share that image or song to the world out there!"

"... But it sure is tempting, even if people might judge it."

"... Why, people might even get shocked or even think of as inappropriate!"

"... But to see their reactions, regardless of fear!..."

"... That is the thrill I truly seek."

"... To be able to share... And embrace my very being... And letting people know who I am..."

"... And how far I'm willing to go and become!..."

"... To share the experience!... They truly seek!..."

The faceless man then embraces his passion and begins playing his piano.

His emotions burned effervescently as he played through those keys, while sharing a shocking melody.

The setting then changes once more.

As we find ourselves witnessing Susanna's breaking point, as she longes and stares towards her villains, who defied her mansion and dared to make such insinuations, readying her fan and ready for attack.

"... I did not kill my husband!" Susanna then uttered those words, as they echoed through the living room she was once comfortably sitting in, while drinking her tea.

"... If you wish to have a battle, then so be it."

"... But I won't do it elsewhere but my ballroom!"

The faceless butlers then caught Lemmy and Adven off guard, as thunder struck outside from a downpour.

"Hey - What are you!-"

As she made its way towards the ballroom, the butlers then forcefully clutched and dragged them to this division of this house, not wanting any chaotic mess elsewhere.

"Let me go!" Adven was trying to punch and kick her little feet, but the butler had a extraordinary strength.

"Adv!" The butler responsible for Lemmy also didn't seem to want to let him go.

As they're about to face their fate, Susanna comes inside the ballroom of her mansion, Lemmy and his friend thrown inside it while the butlers locked the door, hoping they don't get out of the mansion.

"Augh!" Lemmy yelped after falling towards the floor.

"... What the hell?!" Adven wanted to get back at those butlers.

Susanna's footsteps then were all that could be heard while they stood in the floor, trying to get up.

As she readies her fan.

"So, you wish to have a fight?" Susanna interrogated them further while waving the fan towards her, about to make a comeback.

"Then so be it!"

"You shall pay with your shed blood!"

As Lemmy and Adven presences her in the middle of the reflective ballroom, they then soon witness the level of her threat, as she posed once more as a martial artist, eager to hang their heads.

"... Are you crazy?! What are you, some kind of freak?!" Lemmy then exclaimed with anger, venting his frustration over her going berserk.

"It's because of you we even got in this situation!" Adven then scolded him. "There's no point in crying over it now! Whatever this gal wants, she wants us dead!" Adven wasn't shy of sharing Susanna's true intents.

Susanna then leaps and tries to hit Adven with her fan, to which Lemmy noticed something off about it, something that stood out the most to him.

"...!"

"Adven, get away!" Lemmy pleaded. "That's no ordinary fan!"

"Nice of you to have noticed!" Susanna then makes another leap for it, as she tries to agress Adven, hoping for a hit with it, Adven barely dodging this one as well.

"Ahh!"

The fan seemed to actually be razor blade, as he noticed the fan slowly snipping at Adven's hair tips and slashing through the air, hoping to land a hit. Adven's heart almost skipped a beat.

"... Hnngh!"

"... Hey, Lady!" Lemmy then shouted. "Leave her out of this! It's me you want! I'm the one who started this whole mess!" Lemmy then tried to scold her, not wanting Adven to have anything to do with it.

"... Oh? And you're only just now putting yourself out there?" Susanna then teased.

"... How polite!... To the point it's sickening!"

She then made her way towards Lemmy, as she kept slashing towards his torso, hoping to cut him in half and striking him down, her agility being that of a bee hummingbird, nimble enough to not get striked.

"H-hah!..."

As he kept dodging, he tried to make of her movements, trying to read into her pattern.

"... She's fast! Way too fast!" Lemmy couldn't help but feel pressured by her agility, as she kept coming towards him, keeping her distance every so often to breath and strike whenever off guard.

"... She's like a mouse! I can't get back at her! If only there was a way to predict where she'd go next!..." Lemmy didn't know how to predict it.

As Lemmy tried to study her movements and she kept dodging back and forth, it was almost as if she was teleporting, making dashes even the human eye can't see or witness as she leapt, dodging his attacks.

Lemmy then realized the bell on her waist, ringing every so often as she moved.

"... Her bell!... Maybe, perhaps!..."

As Lemmy readied his Deep Reshon, he tried to go for a fight. He leaped back towards her in the nick of time and at the exact time that bell rang, only to regret it immediately at that instance.

"... Aghh!" He then covered his ears, due to its ringing.

Lemmy then recoiled back in confusion, getting off guard just a bit.

"Getting distracted?!" Susanna made for another leap and strike, Lemmy barely having dodged in time, getting confused by the bell and the ringing.

"... What happened?..." Lemmy wasn't sure of what was going on, he thought he actually had it. "I approached that thing and it just kept ringing!... It's so loud!..."

"... Looks like you also caught eye of my cute little bell!..." She shared about it nonchalantly.

"... Too bad you can't approach me as long as it's ringing!"

"... The heck?!" Lemmy then got blown, almost suffering another strike.

As he kept dodging and even countering her fan with his Deep Reshon, she then started mocking his face.

"What's the matter?" Susanna then noticed his hesitance.

"... Afraid of putting a fight?!" She then countered and sent Lemmy off with the strength of her fan, hoping he'd keep his distance and almost ready to counter him whenever he'd lower his guard.

"... Hah!... Hah!..."

"Lemmy!" Adven then cheered for him, keeping her distance. "You can't just hit her whenever her bell rings! You've got to predict where she'll move next and then strike her during her dash!"

"I know that!" Lemmy then exclaimed. "But if only there was a way to tell that!..."

"... Wait!" Lemmy then remembered something crucial. "That's it!"

"If her bell always rings whenever she makes a stop, then!..."

Then Lemmy leapt and rushed towards Susanna, finally making a hit to her torso and her dress, slashing part of it and leaving a slight scar on her side, during her dash, leaving her off guard.

"... I just gotta go for offbeat!"

"Hah!" Susanna then feels that pain and immediately tries to counter Lemmy with her fan, throwing him off and sending him far away from her reach. "... Hnngh!"

"... Gotcha!" Lemmy then smirked, finally having calmed her spirits, hoping this would put a stop in her career and her blind fury that kept her moving against him.

"... Hah..."

As Susanna clutched to her very fan and made a slight stop, she decides to make a little pause.

"... Are you finally going to put a stop to this?" Lemmy didn't seem to want to fight her further, as he didn't want to harm the mayor of this city. "If we don't stop now, somebody's about to get hurt!"

But unfortunately, things didn't seem to be over just yet.

"... Hnnghh...."

"... Hnnghrghhh..."

"... Hnnggaaaarghhh!..."

Susanna didn't even seem like herself, as she held on to her slashed waist.

"... You actually hit me?..." Susanna even felt rather surprised, as she never had anyone read her movements like that before, feeling like she had lost her practice.

"... Ugh..."

As she stared at her wound, her eyes suddenly seemed red, as her hand trembled.

"... Hnngh!..."

"... You!..."

"... You HURT MY FRIEND!"

Susanna then shouted from her heart, her eyes sparking different intents, this time murderous, her voice echoing and trembling all over the ballroom, as she changes positions.

"... Hnnaaargh!" She clenched her teeth in rage. "... I don't even care if she gets framed for it!"

"This time, I'll MURDER ALL OF YOU!"

"And I'LL MAKE SURE TO PROTECT HER FROM EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!"

"EVEN IF IT KILLS ME!"

Susanna then shouted all of a sudden, not making any sense.

"... What's wrong with you?!" Lemmy was blown over her reaction. "What are you even saying?!"

Her form then changed from a calm blue to a mysterious aura circling all around her.

Susanna then makes a leap against Lemmy, her graciousness now gone, as she agressively punches Lemmy in a fist of rage, her speed having caught him off guard and her red eyes having scared him.

"... Ack!" Lemmy then flies against a wall of the ballroom and slide down from it, landing on the floor, Susanna slowly approaching and then coming to a stop next to him.

"... This time, I'll FINISH ALL OF YOU!"

But just as she was about to land her fist, Adven tries to make her stop.

"... Stop! STOP!" Adven pleaded from her heart.

"Let him go!" She cried tearfully.

"Let my FRIEND GO!"

Adven cried out and let her tears go by.

"...!" Susanna did only but a growl as she tried to make sense of the chipmunk, that word resonating with her.

"Please, just let him go!" She pleaded. "We'll leave! Just please, let him live!"

As Adven was fighting for her friend, Lemmy was overwhelmingly tired from all those events, as he leaned forward, feeling everything from that hit, wondering how he even got such a friend to begin with.

"... Adv..."

As Susanna seemed like she made a pause, she then forcefully tries to push Adven to keep her distance.

"... Please..." Adven couldn't help but cry out.

"... We're sorry..."

"..."

As Susanna now stared at a knocked out Lemmy right in front of her face, she then felt very conflicted for some reason, almost as if she was unconscious of her actions.

"..."

"... You..."

"... You just don't get it!" Susanna then cried out.

"... She didn't kill her husband!"

"... I DID!" Susanna then cried out, Adven not even understanding what was going on.

"... W-what?..." Adven wasn't even sure of what she was saying.

"..."

"... Please don't put the blame in her..."

"... I was the one that killed her husband!..."

"... Just because she didn't want to fight back!..."

"... And she kept being abused by him!..."

It was almost as if a whole different entity was speaking for her, the red eyes standing out.

"... I killed him with her own hands..."

"... She doesn't remember anything because every time I possess her, her memories get unconscious!..."

"... She had nothing to do with this..."

The entity inside the woman then cried out, feeling hopeless for ever having put her in such a situation.

"... The only thing she did was ever get involved with such a man!..."

"... And even then, she wasn't guilty of any of it!..."

"... Seeing her getting beaten..."

"... That took my heart..."

"... I still remember when we got to be friends!..."

"... She was standing in her backyard, crying for some reason..."

"... I didn't even knew what she was crying about!... Only that I wanted to be her friend!..."

The entity inside Susanna then gets silent.

"... We're all lonely deep down..."

"... I was lonely..."

"... And I just wanted to help her out..."

"..."

"... I just..."

"... Grabbed and reached out a knife... Right after possessing her, since I was already inside her body..."

"... Since then, things have never been the same... People started blaming her!"

"... But for what?!"

"... For trying to defend from her own husband?!"

The entity felt solemn for Susanna's story.

".. She isn't even from this dimension... She just got in here some day, she even told me everything about it..." The entity spoke of how Susanna had opened to this entity. "She was so scared of everything... and then she met what seemed to be such a wonderful man in this city..."

"..."

"... I wish things had gotten way better for her than it did."

Lemmy and Adven then remained silent, having heard such a tale, wondering if it was even real or not.

"... I don't expect you to believe me or anything." The entity didn't expect such things.

"... But at the very least, believe her." The entity just wanted Susanna to be safe. "Believe in my friend."

"... All she was was a victim here..." The entity then blamed themselves for it.

"... A victim of me just trying to help..."

"..."

"... I'll give you your time." The entity spoke inside of Susanna. "In the meantime, I really got to make up for my friend, by saying that we don't need to hurt you or anything."

"... I'm sure you've heard and I know what you're thinking... That girl did indeed come here for help." The entity then admitted. "Because she was given a task and she was told to tell to two of us. Susanna simply said she never saw her because her memory didn't recollect her. I was the one in her possession, thus the lack of memory." The entity wanted to make sure the lack of recollecting wasn't just a coincidence.

"... Two of you?" Adven then tried to heal Lemmy, who was barely by his ropes.

"... There's more of us out there." The entity admitted. "One of us is down straight villainous and doesn't really care about anything, other than his rebelliousness. I hear he's hanging out with a delinquent so be careful for that." The entity admitted such a fault.

"I guess we can't help it, we just make friends with who we see fit, even if it means them having bad influences in us..." The entity told about their situation, mourning her lost friend.

"... The other one's missing. And the other is inside a princess." She mourned not seeing her friend often.

"Be careful of the delinquent - that's the one you want to avoid. But most of all, we're your clue to finding out the girls' whereabouts." The entity boldly stated.

"... I assume she's heading out for Brightburn Tower." The entity in Susanna's body then claimed. "Exactly for what, I can't tell... But I assume my friend merely wanted to help out."

"... He must be really trying to hide out his secret. Maybe to get your girlfriend there."

Lemmy then held on to his sides, hoping for answers.

"... Your friend?..." He exhaled, trying to rest.

"... Vonderv, I mean." The entity revealed his name. "The name's Maravi. I'm the First."

"... Wait, but that means..." Adven then stood in shock.

"... Yeah, I'm one of the Four." The entity admitted. "He just so happens to be the Fourth. The Second's the rebellious one and the Third is with royalty, albeit we're distant."

"... You're one of the Guardians..." Adven couldn't even believe her feats.

"... Yeah, yeah... No big deal about it." The entity wanted to make none of it.

"... Anyways, I assume he gave that girl the other half, while he's keeping the other one safe. Which makes sense, because we're keeping it safe." The entity wasn't sure whether to share from who.

"... Anyway, better to get back on track. I'm really sorry for the inconvenience..." Maravi then spoke, hoping to bring Susanna back to a room and saying everything that just happened.

"... That's... That's okay..." Lemmy excused them. "I'm the one with a big mouth..."

"... Heheh!" Maravi then laughed while being Susanna. "No, it's not! I'm sorry for having hurt you."

"... Hopefully you can forgive me and my friend." Maravi was hoping to be friends with them.

"... So..." Lemmy then questioned.

"... What's the thing about you wanting to become friends?..."

"... Oh." Maravi then spoiled. "It's mostly more about contracts. We just like sharing a bond while keeping people safe. We form a bond with that person to keep them safe, while providing everything we have for them."

"... In return, we are kept as a secret. Kind of like a second personality, if you will..."

"... Is that... Why that pig guy wanted me to be his friend?..." Lemmy then wondered all about it.

"... Yeah! That's mostly about it!..." Maravi didn't want Lemmy to think Vonderv was malevolent or anything. "We just happen to wander on this earth, hoping to find a friend as a host."

"... It's definitely not easy, what with us not wanting to get with everyone!..."

"... I guess he just took a liking towards you..." Maravi then felt like Lemmy remembered her from someone.

"... Yeah..." Lemmy then wondered how much of a friend Vonderv would become.

"... Also, is that why he didn't want to come to this place?" Lemmy then remembered his hesitance.

"... Yeah, it's been a while!" Maravi then stated. "I guess he didn't want to bother me... or want any sort of misinterpretation... He's just like that, that big ol' fool..."

"One more thing..." Lemmy then asked.

"..."

"... What ARE you?..."

Maravi got surprised by those words as silence was made.

"..."

"... We're children!"

"... Deceased children actually."

Lemmy's eyes then widened as he stood in shock.

"... Yep! Just children!" Maravi didn't seem like that was a big deal. "We had already died a long time ago... Despite our appearance, we indeed have matured mind-wise. So we're no longer children and more adults. One thing's for certain, is that our pig-like appearance is consistent."

"... We were picked from the Afterlife." Maravi then shared their procedure. "God picks us out, long after our sudden death. He only happens to pick those who had a unfortunate end early in life."

"..."

"... Okay, I think that's enough entity exploring for now!..." Lemmy then told Adven hoping to get on with it.

"Yeah... Heheh... Besides, we don't want to stall you further." Adven then hoped to help Lemmy with his treatment while Maravi and Susanna talked it out to be on their way out.

"... Then, by all means." Maravi then smiled, as she was hoping to make her friend understand.

Afterwards, Lemmy and Adven were just about to make their leave, as Susanna was back to being herself, Maravi now being in her unconsciousness, keeping her safe from harm in her mansion.

"I'm just happy you got to understand things... And most of all, I'm sorry about what I said about your husband..." Lemmy then said he was sorry to Susanna, who had just catch up to the story. "

"... It's okay." Susanna made sure not to worry him. "If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry... And I wish you nothing but the best for your quest."

"I assume Maravi told you about everything, all while my memories were unconscious." Susanna felt rather troubled she couldn't keep up to things because of her minor inconvenience.

"She did and I'm glad she did." Lemmy admitted. "I feel really sorry about you and your husband... If only I had known..." He felt remorseful over such words.

"Don't be." Susanna only wanted them to be safe. "I was the one who didn't fight back. And my husband didn't treat me well. Maravi only did what she could. She didn't know any better."

"If I had put a stop to it any sooner, I'd-" She looked mournful, sad over not having done more earlier.

"... But I digress. He's gone now and there's nothing I can do about it. Only but wish for the best and go forward, while keeping the city safe, which is what he left me with."

"... It's a hard task and the whole town's a mess..."

"... But hopefully, I can make myself hear." She merely wanted the safekeeping of the citizens.

"... Even if it means with a iron fist. I can't handle seeing the children like this, hidden, while their parents trash and cause such things. I wish nothing but the best for them and to get them proper education."

"The city means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Lemmy wondered her affinity to it.

"I guess... After falling into this dimension from a hole in a tree, I guess I got fond of it, even if as years have gone by, the citizens decided to fight back because of their mayor..."

"... You really got quite a story there, ain't it?" Lemmy then laughed with her.

"A little bit!" Susanna then giggled. "But such is life - constantly throwing you curve balls at it." She lamented a little about her life, but kept going on.

"... Guess you got to make the most of it, even in the hardest of times."

"... A step at a time, right?" Lemmy then wanted to make sure she had his support.

"... Yeah..."

"... One step at a time..."

"... Very well then." Susanna then ends.

"... Then I bid you..."

"... Adieu!..."

"Yeah..." Lemmy then felt sad over not getting to know her sooner and more from her, as he felt like he had to carry on with his task, as he bid farewell to Susanna and her butler friends, alongside with Adven.

"..."

"... Bye!"

As Susanna and her butlers waved back towards them, Lemmy and his friend, Adven then keep on to their search, hoping to find more hints about the rest of the Four and Naddy's whereabouts.

But just as about they were about to make their leave from Glass City, a familiar figure then awaits.

"Hey!!"

It was Vonderv waiting for them outside, almost as if nothing had happened and they just happened to be acquaintances. "Where you've been?! Did everything go well?!"

"... You!" Lemmy then approached this fat hog.

"... How come you didn't tell me about this Guardian thing?!" Lemmy then scolded Vonderv and his very being. "More importantly, why didn't you stop us or left us go inside that mansion?!" Lemmy was infuriated.

"Oh..." Vonderv then felt very solemn.

"... I guess I just wanted Maravi to handle things!" He seemed like he could trust Maravi more than everyone. "She's a real peach, even if a bit overprotective..."

"Overprotective is a understatement!" Lemmy scolded him even further. "We were almost dead because of you! Didn't you know about her?!" Lemmy didn't want to take more of this any further.

"... Nope!" Vonderv then just smiled, crossing his arms behind his head.

"... I don't know everything about Maravi and her friend. It's not in me to find out everything about her. I'm sure she has her reasons." Vonderv then admitted being distanced from her comrade.

"... Hnngrrghhh!" Lemmy just felt almost like snapping.

"... Ugh!"

"... Just... come on with us." Lemmy then asked for his help.

"... Huh?!" Vonderv then felt quite surprised about his reaction.

"... Really?!"

"... You really mean it?!" Vonderv then felt rather thrilled he had his companionship.

"... Of course I mean it, we need your help!" Lemmy then felt troubled he even had to carry him back. "Besides, you know where to head more than anyone, since you know where my girlfriend went!"

"Oh - yeah, that, hahah..." Vonderv then just giggled and smirked with his smile with a gap on his teeth.

"... I forgot about that, heheh." Vonderv then just kept on teasing him.

"... Well, where to next?" Lemmy then asked Adven, hoping for more clue searching.

"Well, I-" But as soon as Adven was about to unroll her map, Vonderv grabbed upon it and decided to help while trying to make the most of her map.

"... Well, now we have to get riiiight here!" Vonderv then pinpoints the next location.

"... Hey! That's my map!" Adven shouted as she stood from her little feet.

"... Huh?" Lemmy then wondered about his next location.

"... Mystic Underground?" Lemmy felt even more troubled than ever before.

"Well, if you want to find your girlfriend, I'm sure that's where she was headed, since you can't reach Brightburn Tower without crossing to the other side of the underground!"

"... You think she might have bumped into someone?" Lemmy was fearful of her ever getting hurt in such a situation. "Hopefully she doesn't get hurt..."

"Don't worry about it! I gave her a heavy cloak, to be sure no one can tell her apart from anyone else!" Vonderv didn't want her to be susceptible of any danger, especially after him knowing what's out there.

"... Although now I'm kind of frightened, knowing of the consequences..." Vonderv then got slightly squeamish for some reason, hoping he wasn't foreshadowing anything.

"What do you mean?" Lemmy wondered about this even further.

"Ergh..." Vonderv then simply stared back at Lemmy, wondering where he really came from.

"... Nothing about it." He simply shut his mouth for good, dodging his sight.

"... What do you mean?! If my girlfriend is out there somewhere in danger, you should tell me everything about it!" Lemmy then ranted to Vonderv, wondering what he had got Naddy into.

"... It's nothing, I'm sure of it!" Vonderv kept dodging the question.

"... Besides, the chances of that are very low!..."

"... That and it would unfit him..." Vonderv then hummed to himself. "Darn, I wasn't expecting things to turn out this way... But at the same time, I gotta wonder about this girl..."

"... But enough about that! Let's go get this hot chick!" Vonderv then cheered.

"Yeah! I- wait, did you just called my girl a hot chick?" Lemmy then squinted at him.

"... I'll call her what she is, hot chick!" Vonderv didn't want to go back his own words.

"Also, you and me? Gotta keep things a secret. No telling anyone about how I'm a Guardian, deal?" Vonderv wanted to make sure his secret wasn't spilled.

"Urgh..."

Lemmy then groans, as he and Adven now follow on a entirely different path, now escorted by one of the Guardians, Vonderv, after a feud and truce with Maravi on a quest to find his still lost girlfriend, hoping to get back home with her, as they made their way towards Mystic Underground, the city of cockroaches and lady bugs, where Hector seemingly had just left from, while searching for Lemmy.

Meanwhile, Hector was on a different path with Jayt, as he and Jayt wandered across the land, searching for Lemmy in vain, hoping to find some answers and some clue.

Both him and Jayt were walking tired around these lands, Jayt's feet hurting as he walked.

"... Ugh! We've been searching around everywhere!" Jayt complained about his feet endlessly. "There's no sign of him in sight!"

"Where in the world is Lemmy?!" He exclaimed, trying to search him haplessly.

"... Yeah, this is kind of getting hopeless..." Hector felt like he was about to lose all hope.

"Did you even ask some questions on the place you've been? Anyone, anything?! You can't just hurry and go in haste, you've got to at least have some answers before you research!" Jayt felt like this wasn't going anywhere, thinking Hector jumped far too much into action.

"Hey, give me a break, I just landed in this place! I barely even know anyone here..." Hector couldn't help but feel like he did Lemmy wrong by not asking anyone about it, feeling rather dumb that he didn't.

"If only we've had some help..." Hector then mused to himself.

"Do you even know anything about his girlfriend? Didn't you even run against her?" Jayt wondered, thinking where in the world his girlfriend could be located as well.

"... Uhh." Hector then paused for a bit, never having even considered his girlfriend.

"... You forgot about that, didn't you?" Jayt then scolded him by his ears.

".... Uhh, no I didn't! Because I only just found out Lemmy has a girlfriend!" Hector then admitted he only heard about it recently.

"... Of which... I didn't know about." Hector then profusely sweated.

"... Huh, didn't catch up about that, did'ja?" Jayt then wondered about his fate.

"... Of course I have! Lemmy just told me some while back!" Hector admitted that being the truth told to him, which he slightly forgot about.

"... I just..."

"... Guess he didn't have it in him to tell it to me..." Hector then felt a bit off the loop regarding that, feeling sad Lemmy didn't tell him anything about it.

"... Well, one thing's for certain, we've got to get Lemmy back and this girl as well!" Jayt then remembered also Dayley, although that was far from his concerns, hoping he didn't have to cross his paths with him.

"... I barely know her, all I know is she's some skittish lass that got involved with him from some burglary thing from a bank he was handling with and since then, they got hitched." Jay tried to explain their backstory. "That's all I know of. She's a real Betty Boop."

"... Huh..." Hector then stood in surprise.

"... Does..."

"... Does Lemmy care about this chick?" Hector then wondered his involvement with her.

"Only that he talks about her all the time!" Jayt still remembers his calls with her. "Calling her snookums and silly stuff like that! Guess that's what a girlfriend does to ya!"

"... Huh..." Hector felt a bit bummed out.

"... Anyway, I think I see a bar!" Jayt then pointed out to the horizon, where he could see a place they could hit. "If we stand around there long enough, we might get some hints!"

"... How are you so sure?" Hector then wondered how he's so intuitive about these things.

"... People talk about things all the time! They can't help getting a bit antsy while constantly yapping about things. If we stick around and be all ears, I'm sure even something might help!"

"I'm in the forensics!... I always gotta be alert for something!... Always searching for crime scenes and everything made me a bit experient, even if only little... Footprints, fingerprints, evidence, searching for people, stuff like that..."

"... If we're lucky, even find someone we can ask about Lemmy. Gotta always make sure."

"... Heh, thanks, Jayt." Hector then thanked. "I didn't think you'd be this useful."

"No problem! That's the least I can do so we can find the Miss's son! Besides, you've gone and helped me so why not?" Jayt felt like he owed to Hector after everything he's done.

"... Heheh..." Hector simply laughed and joshed long.

After a while, they entered this pub, hoping they'd learn about anything or any possible clue.

They sat for a while, hoping someone would answer them.

"... You up for grabs?" Hector asked, wondering if he didn't want anything to eat.

"... With what money?" Jayt wondered. "Remember, we've got nothing to pay with!..."

"Oh yeah, forgot about that..." Hector then stayed put, wondering if they'd hear anything.

After a while, Jayt seemed to be hearing his surroundings, paying attention to any possible clue that might help. In the middle of all the chattering, he came across such words such as something called Brightburn Tower and its whereabouts or even its intent.

"... Huh, that's interesting." Jayt wondered about such location.

"... You ever hear about anything called Brightburn Tower?" Jayt then asked, hoping if he had an answer to give.

"Huh..." Hector then tried to reminisce as hard as he could.

"... Oh yeah! Now that I remember, I remember a cloaked figure that I crossed with that asked for directions!" Hector then remembered the cloaked person that asked him directions for the Mystic Underground.

"... They said they wanted to go to the Brightburn Tower! To get a wish or something like that!"

"A wish?" Jay was even more puzzled than before. "But from what I hear, it's a tower about Gods and their creation?" Jay didn't even know what the people were talking about, only that it was ushered.

"Yeah, they said they were in a hurry and that person really rushed into that place!" Hector didn't know what was the cloaked figure's intents. "I wonder if they're okay..."

"..."

"... That was Lemmy's girlfriend, wasn't it?" Jayt then connected the dots.

"... Dang it." Hector then admitted his own mistake.

"... That's okay, there wasn't a way of you knowing. Besides, we don't know that for sure." Jayt merely jumped to conclusions. "But to get a wish that far... I think she'd have what it takes to go there."

"Given she's such a alley cat..." Jayt wondered just how far Naddy was willing to go to get her wish of getting Lemmy back so she could get back home with him.

"... Dang, I didn't think..." Hector didn't even think she'd go that far.

"... Hmm, maybe..." Jayt then pondered something.

"... You have any picture of Lemmy?" Jayt then was hoping Hector could provide it.

"... Yeah, sure." He then took a picture of Lemmy from his sack, wondering if it'd be any help.

"... Hold on just a bit..." Jayt then lifted himself off from his seat with the photo on his hand.

Jayt then addressed one of the customers, wondering if they could help him with anything. He was particularly asking to a table where most of the clients looked resembling that of a dog or more specifically, a bulldog-like looking species.

"... Excuse me, I'm just with my friend here and I was just hoping to ask if you ever seen this face around here somewhere?" Jayt then asked to one of the costumers lunching in the table.

The customers could do nothing but stare at each other with a cold stare in their faces until one of them broke the silence, hoping they could help.

"... We don't know anything about that person, but that guy over there might help." The dog-like person then helped by saying it while pointing to the bartender. "... I don't know much about anything about that guy, but I keep hearing he already had his encounters with Yamiel before in his life."

"Yamiel? Who's Yamiel?" Hector then came and came to Jayt's side.

The dog-like creatures merely stared at each other, thinking if this was some kind of joke.

"... Go talk to him. He'll help." The dog refused to say anything any further.

"Huh..." Hector made none of it, but found it suspiciously upsetting.

Hector and Jayt then addressed the bartender, who kept going around doing his services, delivering his orders, only tending to his bar and doing his job giving his drinks.

"... Hey, bartender, keeper thing..." Hector then tried to present him the photo of Lemmy.

"... See anything like this?" He then questioned him even further, wondering if they could help.

"... Oh, I'll check up to you in a sec-"

"... YAARGH!"

The bartender then fell as he recoiled frightened.

"Hey, what's the matter?! We're just searching for my friend here!" Hector then interrogated him further, wondering what was that all about, since he jumped all scared.

"... Oh! I thought that was!... Oh, never mind!..."

He then took a closer second look at Lemmy's pictures, wondering if he ever ran across him.

"..."

"... Yes, now that I think about it!..."

"... I think I saw that guy, along with a little chipmunk and a big pig-like thing!" The bartender then remembered that he saw them by the corner of his eye, hoping that would help.

"Looks like our friend here isn't all alone either." Jayt then assumed these were all friends of his who tried to help him with his quest.

"... I think they were heading towards Mystic Underground!" The bartender then told. "Although it wouldn't cross me to think why they would go there of all places! That place is swarming with ladybugs and cockroaches from what I know!" The bartender admitted hearing that as baseless rumors.

"I just got from there!" Hector was a bit miffed he had to backtrack all that.

"Not to mention the high risk of summoning Yamiel there... To even think..."

The bartender then shut his mouth, hoping not to say any more words.

"So, who's this Yamiel being you're talking about here?" Hector then pondered about its existence. "Know anything about it? Or are you just one of those freaks pretending to have seen it?" Hector merely doubted the old man.

The bartender then sighs as he tries to gain up the courage to even talk about it.

"... Yamiel is the God of Death itself on this world. You do not want to cross paths with him!" The bartender was even freaked about saying anything. "He reaps the souls of those he seeks. He's like Death!"

"Death?" Jayt then felt a bit scared of who this could be.

"Yeah and worst part is - he has claws that look like scythes!" The bartender was absolutely petrified he was even mentioning this. "His appearance is otherworldly and not from this world!"

"Hm, not anything like those depictions of Death you usually see on comic books." Jayt wondered, reminding himself of old tropes like a skeleton with large robes holding a scythe.

"Please be careful!" The bartender didn't even want anything to happen to them. "If he even hears about this, he'll reap off my head! I'm still way too young to die!"

"Looks like we might have to hit the road once more." Jayt then pondered the idea of following Lemmy and his friends back to the Mystic Underground, hoping to catch them in time.

"Thanks for the help, I really appreciate it." Hector then thanked the bartender properly.

"... And sorry for the scare!"

As they waved back at the bartender, all he could do was blink even remembering or talking about such a thing.

After a talk with the people of this pub, Hector and Jayt then go outside once more, heading back towards Mystic Underground yet again, which would be a new sight to Jayt.

"I don't get it." Jayt then pondered. "How can Lemmy just find so many friends and just be in hitch with them venturing around these plains?" Jayt was surprised Lemmy could even make so many friends on his way.

"Maybe he told them he's searching around for his girlfriend." Hector merely assumed. "And now they're just following him or they're showing him where he's headed.

"... Perhaps, but-"

Jayt then carelessly plummets into the ground, because he was looking back without staring at the ground too much, having tripped on one of its rocks.

"Oof!" He then falls on his hands, barely having hit the ground.

"Hey, Jayt! You alright?!" Hector got slightly scared a bit, thinking he might have gotten hurt.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just-"

"... Uh."

"... Uhh..."

Jayt for some reason was in a cold sweat, having realized and in dread of something he felt.

"... I'm..."

"... I'm fine!"

He realized he had just twisted his ankle.

"Oh! Alright, are you sure?" Hector wanted to make sure he wasn't pulling a prank. "Don't wanna see you get hurt!" Hector wanted to make sure everything was alright.

"..."

Jayt then tried to stand on his feet slowly, hoping he wouldn't fall again.

"..."

"... Ahh!" Jayt then felt a jolt of pain, as he was about to fall on his front.

"Jayt!"

Hector then rushed to him and caught him just in time, holding on to him while keeping him standing, holding on with his arm.

"What the hell, Jayt, what just happened?" He wondered what was going on.

"... I-I think I twisted my ankle or something."

"... What the heck?! Just from that fall?!" Even Hector was surprised such a thing could happen from such a fall.

"... I think it's from one of my old fractures..."

Jayt then tried standing up, but his feet sending a jolt of pain even letting it rest on the floor.

"...!"

"... I-I think I need some help, can you help me here?..."

"Oh, oh, sure!"

As Jayt stayed by his side, Hector then picked him up to carry him on his arms, while he trembled, slightly scared, hoping he wouldn't fall.

"... There we go!" Hector then affirmed, while Jayt rests in his arms.

"... You mind any of this?" Hector wondered if he wasn't letting him embarrassed by carrying him around.

"... N-no." Jayt merely stayed put, not having anything to say about this.

"Then off we go!"

Hector then made his way towards the Mystic Underground, all while carrying his axe blade on his back and his friend on front, hoping to march on and find Lemmy on his path.

As Jayt got carried, he couldn't help but feeling like a burden, feeling quite embarrassed by it.

"Man, I gotta tell ya, you barely weigh anything!" Hector bragged about his strength. "Which is surprising, given you've been hitting the hospitals enough to have that muffin! You're just like a feather!"

"..." Jayt didn't really feel like saying anything, as he felt quite shy over it.

"... I didn't even think you'd be that fragile... That Dayley guy sure did a number on you... It makes me feel bad about you..." Hector then felt solemn about Jayt being so frail. "I didn't even think you had it this bad!... Kinda makes me feel sad knowing you've been through much..."

"But I know you've been a warrior!... And you'll make through this! I promise, buddy!"

"..."

As Hector walked down his path towards Mystic underground, Jayt couldn't help but his only sight being carried from his arms, as he stared to Hector from his arms and around from his side.

As Hector was making his way, he was mildly distracted with his surroundings, hoping not to fall along with Jayt and hoping they'd come across a place to rest so his ankle would heal.

Searching around helpless, Jayt's eyes looked everywhere, as it didn't seem like there was anyone in sight. He was still very afraid they'd get tackled by some thing or frightened by it.

While Hector kept on his search, he finally glances the Mystic Underground at his sight.

"Hey, we made it!" Hector celebrated. "Looks like we've got a place to crash!-"

Before he knew it, Jayt surprised him with a peck.

"..."

"... Eh?"

"... Ehhhhhhh???!"

On his cheek, no less.

"... What the hell, Jayt, you don't just do that!" Hector felt highly embarrassed about it. "Giving me a peck in the cheek like that, what were you even thinking?!-"

He then stared at his friend, slightly flustered.

And saying nothing.

"... Eh..." Hector then stuttered.

".... D-d-d-didn't you say you liked women?! What happened to all that?!" Hector then continuously rambled about stuff he used to remember about Jayt and how he even slightly mocked him because of it.

Jayt merely stood quiet with his hand resting in his chest.

"... I do."

"..."

"... I guess I'm just not used to this."

Hector's face then flushed red, as he stormed inside the underground hoping to finally put his friend down, in a incredible rush, running towards the entrance.

"... H-h-hey! You're going too fast! Slow down! Ahh!"

As Jayt held onto Hector's frame tight due to being scared of going at such a speed, Hector's face blushed even further, a thousand consecutive shotguns firing at his heart.

"... GODDAMN IT, JAAAAAAYT!!!"

To be continued?

The setting then changes.

Of a otherworldly world, seemingly appearing to be a alternate hidden world inside this dimension, incapable of being reached.

Of a dark place haunted by a creature with a non-human form.

Very few knew its whereabouts or how it even looked like, as it clawed right through its ornaments and its possessions, these being very futile to it, merely only but collections.

Its claws grew like scythes. Its feet protruded these as well.

And its shape quite a sight, its arms stretching for as long as it wishes, its wings protruding from its back ominously.

Bonds were something this creature was not used to, as it haunted through each persons' night, haunting their dreams and even their nightmares, as their tail coiled. And yet, it always seemed like it suggested something more.

It reaps and it takes, knowing only one thing to take.

Obsessed by energy and those who contain it, taking only those who are ripe.

Ill intents do not cross this being's mind, as its job is merely to collect.

Many people have cursed it, even though it particularly doesn't go after anyone, only but those who's time has come - waiting patiently until the time is just right.

A lot of its offspring created by His very image, catching those who wander about.

Only a thing echoed through its mind, of something that caught His eye.

For those who have fallen victim.

Are now haunted throughout their lives, gaining this being's yearn with no end in sight, until they get exhausted and until they have no energy left, until they get the one thing they desire and yearn.

Their life energy.

A endless job and a exhausting position - the creature never let Himself get revealed to anyone, only but to those who once faced Death. Rumors has it some come to the God of Death himself for mercy or to get their wicked twisted desires fulfilled, knowing the creature's species all too well.

For some, such a thought is even tempting, to get to summon the God of Death itself.

Vonderv, the Fourth, tried to make a contract with him, but to no avail, as he perhaps hoped to achieve to gain the God of Death's power and energy, all without success, only being but mere acquaintances.

In Its head, only one thing ran through its head.

To reap those who's time has come and those who object, not wanting to face Death itself.

"..."

Bearing its fangs, the creature then whispered.

"..."

"... Godfighter..."

To be continued

#Lemonade #LemonadeFiction #fiction #original content #original characters #superhero #villain #golden age #suspense #mystery #comedy #cartoony #written novel #Lemmy Liam Heel #Jayt #Hector Godfighter Yagami #Dayley Sparks #PG-13

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neonovember · 2 years

Text

Black Umbrellas

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary; you grief the life you thought you’d live, you grief the person you thought you’d become with her.

warnings; angst to the 10th power, hugeTW for death, loss, grief, sadness that’s masquerading as anger, mentions of major depressive and anxiety episodes, major character death, mentions of disorders eating, isolation, self harm, fluff, (semi sad ending?, it’s kind of neither).

author notes; was I on an undeclared hiatus for a while? yes most definitely! If you squint hard enough you can see the droplets of tears from pulling this out of my ass, please beware of warning and triggers, most of this writing is just poor descriptions of what grief even begins to feel like, so beware lol.

Black umbrellas gripped tightly by the mourners as they huddled in the soaked downpour, glistening droplets sliding off the edges and grooves of the umbrella.

They gather, moving in unison, in togetherness, bounded and shared in grief and loss, moving like a wave, over, until their blanketed sadness ripples into the shore, until they are swarmed within the masses of people in ordinary, in mundanity, because death is something that happens, that just happens, and the world won’t stop spinning, and the people won’t stop living, or working or resting, because death is will always be the ending of life, there is no parabolic cycle in which death ceases, there is no reality in which it doesn’t morph to become normal.

Death is nothing but enabling the living. Bonded grief, safe only in the prism of memories that become too clouded with age and rubbed with heat, it’s pristine, clarity leaving just as fast as it came. The once unrelenting image of her burned into cranials and irises, never leaving even in rest, that gut wrenching nauseating memory that becomes an aged heated picture, it’s bile rising burn felt almost daily, now instead, leaving an everlasting aftertaste.

The abhorrence keeps you grimacing after every swallow, after every breath, a reminder. A sacred oath you kept in grief and loss, in a blurred stage between depression and shock, that you’d never forget, never break their once so familiar face, their so close touch, the heat of their voice, their smile, their laugh.

Death leaves you with simple promises you’ve made in desperation, with illogical bargains, will hopeless wishes; to remember them, to seize forgetting, to be branded with the spoken syllables of their name.

You never stop whispering her name, not in rest, not in battle, not even in pleasure. It stays branded within you, it plants its feet within your mind to grow, to wilt, to seize, and then to repeat, until it is an endless cycle. An endless cycle of remembering and then forgetting, and the cruel chastising after. Mind incredulous at its audacity to leave the grief, even momentarily, heart clenching with guilt, wilting from red to grey, to grey to red.

You had grown accustomed to this battle, to this routine, and any assuring hand or concerned advice was shushed away into the overflowing cabinet. Steve had tried, really, tried, unrelenting desire to help, to free you from this repetition you’ve consumed yourself with.

The same ignorant belief that spurred him into rescuing James Buchanan Barnes, the belief that sent him into hiding, his dark Captain uniform becoming second skin, it’s star turning black with use and age of his rogue.

He’d found you at the funeral then, his hands wrapped around your face, scanning in concern over your faltering expression. He begged you to let him in, let him share the burden of grief, let him see you, goddamn, just see you. You hadn’t, and you still don’t now.

Instead you laughed, the loudly inappropriate sound booming across the greened lawns. Vibrating off those goddamn black umbrellas before bounces across the cemetery grass. You had turned heads, mouths opened in shock at your confidence, your disrespect.

How dare you stand there amongst them whilst they mourn her death, and laugh?

Her casket empty because they didn’t have a body to bury, even despite your request to bring her back, use the god awful gifts given to you by crazed scientists for good, they had refused, and so she was left there to rot whilst you fiend a funeral that seemed so wrong, so inappropriate, so dumb. She would’ve thought it was, anyway.

You couldn’t help it, it was beyond your control. You laughed louder at their faces, leaning back, clapping a hand across your mouth, trying, failing at hiding your emotional outburst. You willed your body to stop, you knew what would come next, and Steve did too, his body stepping closer to catch you. You felt yourself falling before you actually did, the gut nauseous change toppling you over as your snickers turned into sobs, your eyes burning with mascara and hot with tears.

You didn’t want to cry, not here, not in front of everyone, you’d much rather it in your bathtub fully clothed with a bottle of some Russian hard liquor she used to love. Drink away the embarrassingly pedestrian funeral. Curl a hand around the base of the bottle until it shattered at the thought of a weightless casket.

Steve held you close, protective arms wrapped around you, cocooning you in his warmth and grip, shielding you from the prying ears and eyes of the faceless crowds of people that didn’t know her.

You begged Steve why?

Why had she done it? Why had she sacrificed the one thing you’ve ever needed in life? Why had she gone and bleached her ledger if it meant leaving you? You couldn’t understand, you wouldn’t, your mind heavy and pounding with a headache.

Steve walked off with you in his arms, motioning for Banner and Stark to follow, carrying you into a tinted Chevrolet, or Mercedes’ or whatever unmarked suv was surely organised by Stark, the billionaire's strategic planning for your eventual mental breakdown. Better to have you shielded from the public, kept shut into the tinted windows of vehicles instead of in upstate New York’s most prestigious fucking graveyard. Didn’t need the rest of the world to watch on as an Avenger loses her grip on reality.

You may be infected with grief and loss but you weren’t fucking stupid, you had a duty, even now in grief, a duty branded to you the moment you took up the mantle of an Avenger. People were scared, the world was scared, and they’re only hope was you, and for them to see you, see you like this, show them you felt pain and hurt and loss, would be to show them that you were just like them. Human. Capable of the same fucking depression and grief they felt everyday.

It was disturbing, it was fucking inappropriate that’s what it was, how dare you? How dare you shake them with the reality that you were still helpless to the destruction of death? How fucking dare you become them. How dare you warp their sense of superiority and benevolence they’ve granted you? It didn’t make sense, it couldn’t.

The public couldn’t comprehend that you could grief, that you felt the natural process of human emotion. Or maybe they did know, and had grown accustomed to the stoic, emotionless barrier the Avengers had glazed over themselves, maybe they had learnt to see them not for who they wore, or who they were, but for what they served. Their purpose. Their mission. Thier weaponised killing and justified murder.

It was hushed behind the backs of their minds but it was true, the avengers weren’t seen as people, they were dehumanised, it was the only way they could rationalise it, they needed them. How could you save them if you needed saving? How could you save them when you couldn’t even save yourself?

The motions of the unmarked car grow thick, your limbs lazy and lagging, sore from your depression.

You cried more inside the haven of the fabric walls of the car, leaning into Steve’s lap, Banner's finger crazing over your leg in assurance. Whispering “I know, I know, I know”.

You hated her, hated what she’s done, you’d screamed it then, pulling a fist into your mouth, your mind begging for your body to stop.

Steve gently pulled your hand away from your jaw, resting your head in the croon of his neck instead, humming softly at your blubbering, the silent wake after you cried the last of the moisture from your eyes, the dehydration from your ministrations settling in.

The ride was short, or at least it felt like that, you didn’t really know, consumed with burying your face into Steve’s white button up. He leaned into you, brushing your coils from its dampened rest on your forehead. You liked the smell of him, Steve, his musky scent of patchouli and something earthly remained exactly as it was the first time you met, it was the only thing that hadn’t changed, beneath cologne and dirt there it layed, all these years.

You would’ve made a joke of it in different circumstances, today wasn't that day, perhaps it would be long until that time came. His scent was the only thing you’ve kept now, it’s the only thing you know now, his scent is like a stamped reminder of everything you’ve lost and the very few you still have.

“Hey, sweet girl, we gotta get up” He whispered it cautiously, calculating if maybe the uttered words would spring you into another breakdown.

Muffling a groan you raised from his lap, tugging at his hands pulling them towards you. He wrapped an arm around you as he eased the both of you out of the car, the hard cement felt like pillows under your black heels, marshmallowy and soft, like your movements weren’t really there, like you’ve sunk into the depths of the Earth.

Fluttering your eyes across your surroundings you realise you’re in the Towers carpark, the noticeable, embroidered A centred at the front. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been here, avoiding the place all together, avoiding her smell, her room, her clothes, her being within these spaces. It was too much, one morning entering the tower had you leaving in muffled sobs, too much.

Steve squeezed your arm, sensing your thoughts;

“You have to try, you’ll never recover if you don’t at least try” He whispered, an optimistic expression on his face that had you scoffing.

“You know Steve, for someone who’s lost the love of their life, I thought at least you’d give me a fucking break” You raise your face at him, lips trembling.

He gulps back a swallow, cerulean blues glazed in pain and sadness as he reviled, and begged you not to continue you’re fevered rant.

“I don’t want to try, I don’t want to do anything, try for what? For what Steve? A life that’s half pretending I’m over it and half wishing it was me?!”

“She’s gone, forever, just like that, and I just, I just, my heart, Stevie, my heart hurts goddamnit. She did this, she made my heart hurt, and I hate her for it, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!”

Steve watched you scream your obscenities, taking on the wrath of your anger and delirium because that’s just who he is. You feel yourself doing it and you hate it, why can’t you just get over it? Why does your heart have to burn all the time? Why can’t she give back that piece she has of you? The one she’s kept since you’ve loved her? You need it, you need it, you need it back really bad.

“Please,” Steve pleaded, begged, bargained for your resolve, trying to reach the depths of your mind in which you were cognitive, in which you had reason.

“You need to sleep, you have to sleep” He said it like a suggestion, he meant it as a command.

You were too tired to resist the strength of his arms, and the heat of them. You let yourself be tucked into a bed in a darkened room, you let your mind tug into the abyss of sleep. That night was the one night you had gotten any proper sleep, you had no idea why, until you woken and smelt her everywhere. Steve had put you in Natasha’s room. Your first instinct was to scream at him, slap him for doing this to you, grief the moment when you didn’t have to face the reality of her death.

Months later, you’d thank him, you’d take him out for dinner at her favourite restaurant, and look over the menu without tears burning your vision. Eat a full meal instead of small bites Steve or Clint would feed you.

You didn’t know what would’ve happened to you if you hadn’t slept in her room that night. You didn’t know if you’d ever really recover, and that’s not to say you're okay now, no, things weren’t ever going to be as they wore before. Death crafts you a new normal, it gifts you with perseverance, with awkward party tricks and horrible sentence starters called I lost the love of my life.

You had stopped being angry by the second month, you had nothing to be angry about anymore, just gaping holes in the places she’d once warmed.

You were a shell of a person for a long time, depressed and anxious, all nail biting and knuckles in palms. You weren’t the cool depressed, the “weed” medicating anxious, you were the weeping-into-the same-jumper depressed. You were the eat everything within the kitchen or go days without food until you hunched over in stomach spasms kind of anxious. You were a mean drunk, or, maybe you became one after, you’d always remembered how she loved when you were tipsy, she wouldn’t like it now.

Steve had stayed through all of it, every single part of yourself you became and evolved through. God you willed yourself to create distance, keep him at arms length so you never have to go through what you’d gone through, but Steve, he is an enigma, a man out of time, a man who finds dealing with you at your worst more normal than operating a fucking Iphone. You knew through all of this, through the nights he sat at your bedside waiting for your hiccuped breathing to get heavy, that it was for him too. Steve needed this as much as you did, if not more.

You’d often say you credit Steve to saving your life, but he saved so much more than that. He saved your soul, the memories and versions of you that felt so foreign sometimes, miles away. You were sure if you’d died then and there, people would remember you as the one that went crazy, the Avenger that couldn’t get a grip, Steve made sure you became more than that, the Avenger who went crazy but still laughed at his jokes.

Steve became your favourite person, he became your safe haven after a hard day, the person you felt at ease with, the only time you really ungripped your hands and let your shoulders fall.

Sometimes, when he felt really honest, he’d tell you about Peggy, you’d watch him whilst you both sat on the balcony in the moons of the night, watch as the gleams of love, sorrow and longing took over his face, he’d catch himself soon though, when you leaned in too close, when you looked at him a little too understanding.

This was for him too remember, and he hadn’t finished grieving even centuries later. And so you’d watch him grip his jaw and shut his mouth, paint his face with a pained smile, watch those cerulean blues fall.

There were questions that were never answered even now, even years later when her grave had grown over with green grass, and the insects and worms had eaten away at the wood of her casket.

You’d made a promise to never forget her, to always keep her branded into the cranium of your mind, and that never changed, she was always there, even if her face had melted with age and the edges of your memories had grown wilt with life.

You'd grow to accept it, you trusted yourself to that, maybe not now, maybe not until decades past, when you're on a rocking chair on the front porch of a lake house. But you would.

Natasha’s death wasn’t spectacular, she didn’t get a street or a school named after her, her poses weren’t sculptures in museums, or featured in Smithsonian’s. She simply existed. From the span of indescribable time on Earth. That was the most beautiful part, she was kept alive in the minds that knew her, not in the cinderblock pieces of public space to be observed by hundreds, or on the piece of graveled road that would become rusted with holes and overgrown by weeds.

She’d stay, in the minds of yours, in the head that had a thousand streets with her name, a hundred sculptures of her, a million movements Yelena would hate.

In your mind, grief never banked the shore, never fell or washed over, it morphed, in the sun, in the rain, in the wind, it glinted in light until you saw it for what it only ever was;

Love.

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darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Hug

Pelle x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Danis grief and the things that come with that (crying, heaviness)

Author’s Note: this was not on my list of things I wanted to write and yet

I feel held by him okay

Summary: You and Pelle meet through Dani and Christian (man I suck at summaries)

Song: Run by Hozier

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Dani liked you. She liked you a lot. You made her feel sane and that helped her in more ways than one. She liked the fact that you would always listen to her and tell her that she was right, even when she was wrong. She liked that your eyes never once flitted away from her when she spoke. She liked that you understood her grief in a way that most people would never try to.

She almost had no desire to introduce you to Christian. She loved Christian, she really did, but you didn’t need to meet her boyfriend.

Dani thought, even though you did appreciate her that you would never understand the way that he loved Christian. Maybe she didn’t even understand it.

In any event, she wouldn’t be able to explain in an adequate way.

But still, you pushed.

You were hanging out with her, in her room. She was walking around the room numbly, trying to understand why her head never seemed to be wrapped around the room when people were speaking. A sorrow was still hanging over her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. You were sitting on her desk, watching her anxiously pace back and forth.

“No.” She stopped walking. “I’m sorry, that was blunt.” You shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want,” you told her evenly. Dani walked up to you and sat down at the chair in front of you. She felt a little more clear headed with you. It helped to be around people sometimes. Tears started to well up in her eyes but she quickly shook them away.

“Christian has been distant lately. I don’t know how to tell him I still need him without being...needy,” she said, avoiding your eyes.

“He should understand.” You gave her a narrow look and she sighed.

“Yeah yeah. I know you wanna meet him.”

“I just wanna learn about this guy who supposedly has absolute zero ability to read his girlfriends moods.” She sighed.

“You wanna meet him? Alright. You can meet him. But his friends will probably be there and if you don’t wanna-”

“I’d love to meet his friends as well. You can tell a lot about a person based on the company that they keep.”

====

“This is Y/N. Y/N this is Christian, Mark, Josh and Pelle.” You shook their hands, a kind smile on your face. Mark eyed you for a second longer than he should have and you weren’t sure how to feel about them as a whole. A very basic group of boys that may not be all that they seemed. You were all at Christians place which was dirty. Clothes were on the floor and most of his books were strewn around. There was food on the kitchen counters.

You ignored your initial thoughts and waved slyly.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you all.” Truth be told, you didn’t know much about any of them but Christian. You barely knew their names to faces.

“You’re the only friend of Dani’s we hear about. You go to school here too right?” Josh asked. You nodded.

“Yes. It’s how Dani and I met.” Your eyes looked around the four of them and surveyed their expression. The man at the end, Pelle, had a very neutral and soft looking expression on his face. You admired him immediately.

But you ignored that so that you were able to assess Christian better.

“Now Christian, I think it’s about time I teach you how to treat your girlfriend,” you teased gently and the guys raised their eyebrows. Mark patted Christians back.

“She’s got her guns out. How are you going to respond?!” Mark asked loudly. Christian was laughing and so were you but you had been serious. He was a terrible boyfriend. If they had classes on how to be a decent boyfriend, you would force him to take them, for Dani’s sake.

“You’re Dani’s friend which means you are my friend,” he said finally. Your lips twitched and you nodded slowly. “Can I offer you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you though.” Dani sat down at the living room area and the boys quickly followed. Her and Christian were on the love seat, Mark in one of the chairs and you, Pelle and Josh on the couch. You were sitting beside Pelle on the left.

He smelled good.

“How is school treating you?” he asked. You turned to him, pleased to hear that his voice was as soothing as he looked. He had an accent you couldn’t place - you were hopeless with accents.

“Well! At this rate, I should get through finals with only a few scratches here and there,” you told him.

You could hear that Mark had asked Christian a question and they were having a conversation off to the side.

“How about you?” you asked.

“Good, just about as good as you. I wonder, maybe if we have any teachers in common,” he suggested. You nodded.

“It’s entirely possible. What are you studying?”

“I’m in the Anthropology department.”

“We may overlap. I’ll have to check your schedule.”

Dani gave you a look but your eyes were not on her. She couldn’t distinguish what you and Pelle were saying because your voices were so calm while the other boys were booming. She was only a few feet away and still...whatever you were laughing about was lost on her.

====

You didn’t stay long. Dani and you had to get back so that you were able to study for finals. And by that, it was usually you studying with her in the room so she had someone to keep her in check. You didn’t mind.

“You and Pelle seemed to get along well,” she noted.

“I was there to make sure Christian seemed like a decent human,” you told her.

“And?” You thought about it for a moment and she was right. You had talked to Pelle almost exclusively.

“Pelle was really nice,” you conceded. She laughed gently. At least you were able to be honest with her.

“I think he likes you. He’s a Swedish exchange student, if he didn’t tell you.”

“That’s where the accent is from! It was bugging me. I was about to start speaking to Google,” you said laughing. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“You could have just asked him.”

“I didn’t know if it was inappropriate!”

======

You ran your hand through your hair as you walked around your little apartment. It had about everything you could ever need and you loved it. Dani was sleeping on the couch you had managed to squeeze in.

There was a knock at your door.

You checked the clock on the wall and furrowed your brows in confusion. It was still pretty early in the day. You had to go to class soon.

You opened the door and Pelle stood in front of you, a kind smile on his face.

“Pelle! What a nice surprise,” you whispered. He looked confused as to your whisper and you opened the door enough to show Dani sound asleep. He nodded understandingly.

“I hope this isn’t inappropriate,” he said, in the same hushed tone.

“No, no. Although I do have to go to class soon. What is it?” You leaned against the doorframe.

“I thought our conversation the other day was really nice.” He paused for a minute, thinking over his words. You waited patiently. “I would like to take you out for coffee.”

You were a bit surprised that he had come all the way to your apartment to tell you that. You assumed that Christian had given him the address. He had it so he knew where Dani was, she had given it to him.

“I would like that very much. Although, you could have just called,” you said smiling.

“I prefer in person. I think it’s more personal.” You nodded but turned around, grabbing a pen off of your desk. You grabbed his hand and scribbled your number onto his palm.

“For when you want to tell me where to meet you.” He smiled and nodded once, pleasantly.

“Until then.”

====

Pelle called you that night to tell you where to meet him for coffee. You were pleased and excited. Dani woke up the next morning when you were getting ready to leave. It was Saturday so you didn’t have any classes to attend and you figured you were due a break from studying.

“Where are you going?” she asked groggily. You cleaned up your bed and turned to her on the couch.

“I have a coffee date,” you said honestly.

She raised her head up off the pillow and rubbed her eyes.

“Oh?” You nodded, fixing your hair in the mirror. You looked yourself over and nodded nervously at yourself. You looked good. You hoped it wasn’t too much for just a coffee date. “Care to share who it’s with?”

You sheepishly looked at her through the mirror.

“Pelle,” you said quietly. She laughed heartily. It was the first time you had heard her actually laugh in weeks.

“Pelle?”

“Yes. Go back to bed. I’ll probably be back before you get up.” She laid her head back down.

“Have fun at your coffee date!” she called but her voice was muffled by the pillow.

====

“Yes! I told Dani that but she doesn’t believe me. I don’t know, I think maybe we’re all a little too hard on her.”

The coffee date was going swimmingly. Pelle was funny and he was also able to give you good advice. You were amazed at his kind heart.

As for his feelings for you, he loved you. Dani had spoken about you and your kind heart before but he never thought you would be like this. He never thought he would love you this much so instantly. You were charming and honest and there was some quip left in you. He admired your qualities and was pleased to find that you liked him as well.

He could never be sure but he thought you may like it back at his home.

“You’re being a very good friend. Better than most,” he said honestly. He reached a hand forward and laid it on your hands which were sitting on the table. Both of your cups were empty. You looked down at his hand on yours and attempted to suppress your emotions.

“Thank you Pelle.”

You moved your hands apart so they were holding his hand between them. He smiled a bit, sheepishly.

“I really enjoyed this.”

“I did as well.”

You were very pleased to hear it wasn’t one sided.

You both stood up and started for the door. His hand still held yours. It was within walking distance of both of your homes but in opposite directions. Before parting he turned to face you. You smiled up at him, trying your very hardest to not let him know how much you had enjoyed the date.

That was when your phone rang. Your smile fell and you had to know who it was calling.

Dani.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t worry. I will wait.”

You picked up the phone and put it to your ear.

“Yes?”

“I-I need you.” She was crying. She didn’t like to ask for help so this must have been serious. You nodded stiffly.

“I will be there in a couple minutes. Hold on,” you said kindly. You hung up the phone and turned to him. “Dani needs me, I’m sorry.” He shook his head and before you could say another word, he was hugging you.

You had thought he might kiss you but this was almost better. It was almost for sure better than a kiss. His arms engulfed your body and held you tightly. He was wearing a soft sweater and it felt so nice against your face. He smelled like herbs and trees. You hugged him back, tightly. He had his hand on the back of your head and he gently kissed your shoulder.

He pulled away ever so slightly and kissed you softly. You had to pull away to smile.

“I’ll see you soon Pelle.” He nodded and you were about to walk away when he strengthened his hold on you.

“Mark, Josh, Christian and I are going to take a trip back to my home in Sweden for the summer. Dani will likely be invited too. Would you like to come?”

#pelle x reader #midsommar imagines #pelle imagines

458 notes · View notes

peachywrite · 3 years

Text

Before I Let You Go

Rohan Kishibe x JosukeSister!Reader & Protective Brother!Josuke

Trigger Warning: violence, inappropriate stand use, mild suggestive themes

Josuke doesn't understand why his sister has been spending even more time with Morioh's Famous Mangaka.

Josuke sat himself down beside Koichi, the pair of friends awaiting the next delicious plate of specialty pasta Tonio was whipping up for them.

“You know, your sister has been hanging around Rohan quite a bit recently.” Koichi’s concern was evident in his tone of voice and the way he avoided eye contact with Josuke.

“What are you talking about? She just likes his art, is all. She’s always been into drawing and stuff since she was little.” Josuke tried to brush Koichi’s worries away, but he too was a bit suspicious of their sudden closeness.

Tonio returned with two heaping plates of authentic Italian pasta, smiling down as he placed each on the table. He gave a small bow and returned to the kitchen. Koichi poked at the new food with his fork, spinning it around as he began to speak.

“I mean, they’ve been hanging out with each other for a while now, but just recently it feels like something’s changed.” The two paused for a quick bite of their dishes and thought quietly to themselves, both suddenly coming to the same conclusion.

“Hey, Josuke. You don’t think your sister would ever date Rohan, right? What am I thinking, that’s a stupid question. It would never happen.” The shorter boy scratched his cheek nervously, staring down at his plate.

“I-I don’t know. She’s never had a boyfriend before. Rohan’s also too proud to date anyone, so we shouldn’t worry our heads over this, Koichi.” Josuke smiled at him, patting the gray-haired boy on the back to reassure him.

“I don’t know, it’s just… The other day, when I went over to return some photos to Rohan, I saw the two of them through the window. I couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but it kinda looked like he was holding her hand? And placing a kiss on it? I don’t know though, the window was so high up, so I probably didn’t see anything.” Koichi’s voice wavered, the overwhelming silence from his friend concerning him.

He didn’t have the heart to look Josuke in the eyes at the moment, too afraid he may have let the young man down by not sharing this memory sooner. The dread in his heart outweighed his fears quickly, and Koichi looked up to see a Josuke imbued in the darkest aura imaginable. It reminded him of those terribly frightening spirits in the alley that tried to steal him that one day.

“Uh-Josuke? Is everything a-alright? I know I should have told you sooner, but I wanted to be a hundred percent sure about it before you could go off and beat up Rohan again.” Josuke silently nodded, pulling out his wallet and dropping enough to pay for both meals on the table as he scooted his chair in and began to leave.

“Josuke! We aren’t sure if they even are dating yet!” Koichi shouted.

Josuke turned around, a chilling smile spread across his face as he waved.

“No worries, Koichi. I’m off to find out. Sorry about leaving you, I’ll call Okuyasu to take my place while I’m out. I’ll see you later and tell you what I found out.”

All Koichi could do was stutter in surprise at Josuke’s changed demeanor.

Was he putting on a show to calm his nerves? Or was he actually thinking about how it would affect his sister if Rohan was dating her?

The boy returned to his meal, lost in thought, until a tired Okuyasu joined him at the table.

Josuke’s heart was conflicted. If y/n was really dating Rohan, that would mean she was probably in love with the mangaka. He knew his sister wore her emotions on her sleeve and would never fake a romance, but was that true for Rohan? Could he have used Heaven’s Door to make her love him?

He didn’t trust Rohan after what happened with the others, but he did save his life when they fought against Highway Star.

This is what conflicted him. Rohan had a good soul, but was he doing this because he truly loved y/n, or was this another trick to get back at him for the lost dice game or the partial burning of his mansion? Rohan was the kind of person to hold grudges for as long as he saw fit, so this frightened Josuke.

“You can tease and mess with me all you want, but as soon as you bring my sister into this, you’ve crossed the line.” He muttered under his breath, jogging to the café he knew the artist would probably be sitting at.

As he finally spotted the mangaka, enjoying a sip of tea between his quick sketches, he rushed past the hostess and right up to the table. Rohan was caught off guard, a bit frightened and prepared to use his stand until he saw the steak shaped head of hair.

“Josuke? You idiot, I almost attacked you. Why are you rushing me like an enemy?” He blew out his held breath and took another sip of tea.

Josuke pulled up a seat across from the artist, his hands neatly folded in front of him, eyes staring down as he tried to formulate the proper words without working himself up.

“Rohan, I heard from someone that you may be dating my sister. I just want to know if the rumor is true.” Rohan nearly spit out his cup of tea, the shock of the question taking him completely off guard.

After composing himself, the Great Rohan Kishibe began to sweat as he tried to decide whether he should divulge the truth. Y/n would want him to be honest, but he feared the beating Josuke would surely give him if he found out the two of you were dating.

“Your hesitation to answer is making me nervous, Rohan. You better speak up soon, or I’m gonna lose my patience.” The young delinquent spoke through gritted teeth.

“Fine. Yes, we are. We have been for at least a week now. I love her. It’s simple. Why are you asking me? You could have easily just gotten the same information from her.” Rohan took another sip of tea, hiding his face behind the cup as he tried to figure out how the young man would react.

Josuke’s hands reached out from across the table, grabbing Rohan by the collar and dragging him off to the side, so he could pull him in closer. The smashing of glass on the quiet block alerted the hostesses as they worriedly watched.

“Rohan-sensei! Do you need us to call the police?!” Shouted one of the waitresses, who had reached for her cellphone behind the counter.

“No, everything's alright. I can handle this.” Rohan waved her off, Josuke still dangling the man in the air.

“You better not be doing this to get back at me. I can take the teasing and the jabs at my intelligence, but I won’t let you make a mockery of my sister and her feelings.” Josuke lowered the man down, taking a breath to relax himself, then began to drag the manga artist off the café patio.

“Hey! Release me, you brute! Where are you taking me?!” Rohan struggled in his hold, trying to call Heaven’s Door out to control Josuke.

“We’re going to see y/n.” Rohan stopped fighting and instead calmly placed his hand on Josuke’s shoulder.

The boy stopped, turning around to meet Rohan’s stern face.

“I’ll go with you, just stop manhandling me.” Josuke stared into him, debating with himself, then let the manga artist go.

Rohan stumbled back to his feet, dusting himself off as he grumbled under his breath about how rude Josuke was being to him.

The two walked side by side towards the Higashikata residence. When they were nearly a block away, Josuke spotted you being dropped off by Jotaro. You waved goodbye to the older man, but turned around to face them after.

“Good grief.” Jotaro rolled his eyes with a sigh, leaning against the car as you spotted your brother and your boyfriend angrily walking toward you.

“What do you think is up with them?” You asked, curious as to why both seemed to be in foul moods.

“Looks like your brother found out who your boyfriend is. I’m only staying because I don’t want an unnecessary stand fight.” The marine biologist pouted to himself, annoyed.

You looked back at the pair, shaking your head in annoyance as well.

“I should have just told him from the start. I knew Rohan couldn’t keep quiet about this.” You motioned to the two of them to speed up, so you could talk.

As they reached you, Josuke grabbed onto Rohan again, dragging him by his collar with one hand.

“Why must you fling me around like a rag doll!? I already agreed to come with you!” Rohan shouted, squirming in Josuke’s death grip.

“Use Heaven’s Door on her.” Josuke mumbled to the mangaka.

All he could do was shake his head in response, his eyes wide at the order given to him by the delinquent. Suddenly, a second hand came up to grip the other side of Rohan’s collar, both now shaking him violently.

“I said use Heaven’s Door! I want to be sure you aren’t messing with her!” The tears that welled up in Josuke’s eyes shocked you.

You’d seen Josuke cry before, but these tears were different. He looked scared.

“Josuke, stop it! There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You placed a hand on Josuke’s back, your touch pausing his tirade and causing him to drop his hold on the artist. Helping him up, you touch Rohan’s cheek and nod to him.

“Rohan, I give you permission to use Heaven’s Door on me right now.” He shook his head again, adamant about his refusal.

“I won’t use it on you. Not for that bastard or for you. It’s not right.” You could tell how upset this was making Rohan. He turned his head away from you, not allowing you to meet his gaze.

“Rohan, please. He’s just scared. Just this once. I’ll never ask for you to do this again.” He finally meets your eyes and sighs.

His hands carefully touch your cheek as he whispers Heaven’s Door. The pages on your face open up and prevent you from moving, but you happily look up at the man, reassuring him that you felt safe and accepted this. Josuke came from behind the artist, flipping through all your pages quickly, searching for any scribblings Rohan could have made.

A few minutes pass and Josuke is finally content with his search. He closes the book on your face and your movement returns to you.

“See. Everything was fine. I really do like him. A lot, actually.” You pinch Josuke’s cheek.

Josuke pulls you into a tight hug as you feel his stress melt away. The mangaka crosses his arms, an angry pout on his face. All you can do is sigh and return the hug.

“I just wanted to be sure. If you were to get hurt because of me, I don’t know how I’d live with that.” He squeezes you tighter, your breath leaving your body quickly from his sheer strength.

“Josuke, it’s fine! Trust me! Now let go, you're crushing me.” You squirm, but your brother refuses to budge.

“I don’t think I will. If I let go, you’re gonna go give Rohan a hug, and I don’t want to see that.” The boy then lifts you with little effort and attempts to run, but his plan is foiled when your stand manifests and wraps around his legs, keeping him from moving.

“I see how it is, y/n. Fine, go be with your boyfriend, but no lovey-dovey stuff.” Your vines unwrap his legs as he sets you down.

You give your brother one last hug and a smile, running into Rohan’s arms. He still looks upset, but when you nuzzle into his chest, his anger melts away.

“I’m sorry you had to do that. It had to happen, though, so don’t be too mad at me. I’ll make it up to you, promise.” You look up at him, still in his arms, he leaves a quick peck on your cheek followed by a hefty sigh.

“You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving man.”

#rohan kishibe x reader #kishibe rohan x reader #rohan kishibe #kishibe rohan #jjba reader insert #jjba part 4 #jjba x reader #jjba #platonic josuke

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drwcn · 3 years

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Hello~ may i ask you something about Chinese culture? i'm a white person and i know that wearing traditional clothes from other cultures (for example as a street wear) simply because it's beautiful is disrespectful because it's also a form of cultural appropriation. A few months ago one of my friends and i were talking and exchanging facts about our cultures and lifestyles and i made a comment about how stunning some hanfu she showed me were and her first reaction was " oh you like it? what's your favorite color i can buy you that one! " and she was quite gleeful and seemed to be unaware of the ethical problem behind me wearing these clothes.. i kindly refused but it's been puzzling me for some time now and so I'd like to know a bit more about it so i can maybe educate myself on this matter and explain my position better next time such as why I can't wear these clothes. i'm really sorry to drop this important and not so simple ask on you but i actually don't know anyone else i could ask, also know that you don't need to answer this if you're uncomfortable or anything tho! it's such a long text omg again sorry for taking up so much of your time aldhsks i hope your day will be great 💝

Hi friend!

From where I stand if you want one, you should get one, especially if your friend is willing to help you pick a nice one. :)

Here’s the thing about culture appropriation - everyone has a different opinion on it, so even if I say something, another Chinese person can disagree and that’s valid.

I have a feeling, just a feeing, that if you go to China and buy a hanfu and put it on and walk around in it, most Chinese people aren’t gonna come up to you and say hey! this is cultural appropriation! In fact they might ask to take pictures with you.

That’s gonna be different if you did the same thing in New York, or Montreal, or Sydney, or London.

I’m not a sociologist or anthropologist or political scientist, but I am a young person who has a lot of incongruous feelings towards cultural appropriation. There are obvious answers. Any action whereby an item/accessory from a certain culture is used in a mocking or offensive way, or is used as a costume or a gimmick, is of course entirely inappropriate. This is the obvious answer. But, the question that is often asked, and the exactly thing you are getting, is: what if I’m not intending to be offensive? What if I just like it? What if I want to honour it and support it?

And the answer to that is complicated.

I am a CN diaspora, and from what I’m seen and experienced, the term “cultural appropriate” comes from a place of fear and feeling of threat. For countries like the US where the population is very diverse and there’s a pressure to assimilate and fit in, there used to be a time when immigrants felt they had to do everything in their power to be more integrated into the new community they landed in and that meant turning their backs on the culture that they’ve left behind.

The movement we see more and more nowadays is the reclaiming of some of that lost culture and the embracing of every aspect of one’s identity. However, the part of us that’s not quite “white enough”, that we’re just starting to build up the courage to be proud of, is still so tender, so raw, so vulnerable to any kind of assault from outside forces. The fear that we used to feel, the fear of being completely ourselves, it never truly goes away. It’s in the memory of being embarrassed to bring cultural food to lunch at school and wishing your mom could just pack you pizza. It’s the awkward moments when you can’t wear the shorts you want like the other girls in your class because your immigrant mother/father says it’s not appropriate. It’s loving a wuxia story and having no one to share it with because all your friends are non-cn and you’re 14 and everything is embarrassing. Imagine carrying that your entire life, that heavy mixture of shame and fear, and waking up one day and suddenly some pop artist is using aspects of your culture in their music video. Just for the aesthetics. And for that they’re getting millions of hits on youtube and making a fuckton of money.

The very thing that had caused you so much grief, so much mockery and stress, is being used and monetized. How could you be okay with it? Especially when commercialization often comes with sexualization and objectification as well. Now what if it’s not some famous person, what if it’s just a random citizen who wants to put on a kimono or a hanfu? Is that okay? Then it really depends on who you’re asking and what their relationship is with their cultural identity. Personally, I don’t really care because the community that I grew up in was very accepting of my culture. I never experienced as much cultural threat as other cn disasporas in other communities. So, like your friend who is CN (I’m assuming), I don’t feel as though my own identity is being infringed upon if you were to wear hanfu. In fact, I would take it as you being interested in my culture. But imagine someone who comes from a community where they weren’t allowed to freely express their unique cultural idiosyncracies, where they felt much more pressured to assimilate and fit in. I would think that you wearing hanfu would be absolutely seen as cultural appropriation in that case. Because the bottom line is, if they wore hanfu in their community, they would’ve probably been mocked for it, and so a person who is non-cn wearing hanfu just for fun, cheapens the struggles and the pain that they must’ve experienced ongoingly in their life. In simple words: imagine an unpopular kid at school had a mole on their face, a mole which earned them constant mockery from the popular kids. One day, however, one of the popular kids decided having a mole is “cool” and “sexy”, and drew one on their face and began sporting it around. Suddenly everyone is doing it. That kid with the mole is probably thinking having a mole is my thing, it’s part of who I am, I can’t change it, and you made my life hell because of it. Now, not only are you being a complete hypocrite, you’re also taking away a part of my identity. You’re removing the mole from it’s origin, from its context, and you’re drawing it on your face just because you like the look of it.

There’s a reason why Chinese people from China don’t care if you go to and buy all the hanfu you want. A) it’s generating business, but more importantly B) Chinese people in China are secure in their cultural identity. Being Chinese is their every day life, it’s their norm, their background, their default. By you wishing to try Chinese clothes, eating Chinese food, to them you’re simply going with the flow of their society. Diasporas on the other hand have a completely different relationship with our culture. We’ve had to fight to carve out a space that’s just for ourselves, and no diaspora’s experience is going to be the same as another. Therefore, our relationship with our culture, and with the term “cultural appropriation” is going to be very different.

#culture #coriesss #Anonymous #corie replies

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thebeautysurrounds · 3 years

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THIS CONTAINS SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR NEVER HAVE I EVER S2 READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

This is quite long I had a lot to unpack.

Since watching the 2nd season of Never Have I Ever a few things have been bothering me about the way people are reacting to Devi, and the show overall but mostly Devi. First of all she’s what a sophomore in high school? and she’s doing this all while being the only brown girl (up until kinda the middle of S2) and still dealing with grief and having absolutely no idea who she is yet. To me outside of being an honor roll student she is not doing things FOR HER she is doing this to appease her mother. Who while she means well pushing Devi to succeed to certain extremes which if Devi shows the slightest behavior of fucking up her mother makes harsh comments instead of understanding Devi is a literal teenager and needs room for fucking up.

Is Devi hella unreasonable at times? YES does she often times act strictly on impulse without a second thought…YES. But as a girl who virtually has no one outside of her friends who also are staring to drift from her and get into their first relationships themselves and have their own activities she essentially is left to navigate the world and her teenage angst alone. While I will give Nalini credit for all the work and time she has put in to not only being a single mother and navigating her own grief but also being a working mother who is a doctor and quite possibly has her own struggles with being a brown women in that filed. My problem lies with her not being able to balance or even let go of a strong arm parenting style that mostly focuses on Devi’s fuck up more than her accomplishments and makes comments on how her fuck ups that haven’t even happened yet. I’m not sure Nalini even realizes Devi is at the very very top of her class because I truly believe (after S1) even though Nalini apologized to Devi Nalini has a ‘hoping for the best but expecting the worst’ attitude when it comes to Devi and that’s in the for front of her mind so much she doesn’t realize Devi goes above and beyond not only for herself but to make her mother proud of her all for her mother to just not acknowledge that.

Now with Devi’s characterization I get where some people are coming from on saying Devi shouldn’t have been “boy crazy” or that they “ruined her character development” but here’s my problem those critiques while valid and your allowed to have those opinions…It’s just not really realistic and let me tell you why like I stated Devi is what a sophomore in high school and she has made it a abundantly clear her parents forbid her to date cause it’s school and extra curriculars only. Which will lead to a good college which thus will turn into a good career. While that’s all well and good. I don’t think y’all realize the FOMO of being in high school and growing up with very strict parents, and wanting to have your first relationship. Wanting to be an actual teenager and not wanting to think about 3-4 years down the line which most teenagers don’t/can’t visualize cause it’s not the right now. Devi wants to have those experiences and there’s nothing wrong with that does she go about it the right way…not exactly but y’all act like YOU have never been a teenager and said and done awful things out of anger or just pure immature stupidity. For the boy crazy part Devi is literally having her first feelings and experiences with boys she has 0 clue what she is doing outside of probably books, tv, movies and what her friends assume they know (even though they mean well) the only person Devi would remotely trusts is gone, and she can’t ask her mother cause her mother would honestly probably shut her down and make her feel guilty for even wanting to start having her first experiences with boys. Y’all have such a warped view of not only real teenagers and high school aged kids but also fictional ones. Y’all are so use to shows having protagonist being awful or starting off kinda okay but then their character turns awful and remains that way. What some of you fail to realize is actual teenagers and “teenagers” in shows can/are VERY morally grey.

Should Devi have been honest and possibly communicated to both Ben and Paxton that she has some sort of feelings for them both..possibly but Devi is a teenager do you think she is having a in depth analysis and talk with herself (outside of a pros and cons list) about what infatuation versus lust versus genuine connection versus romantic attraction looks like probably not. Let’s also analyze how she literally goes from being in her eyes forgettable to being noticed and even though it’s not talked about in the show explicitly she honestly probably struggles with self esteem/self image issues. To go from being a girl who to her no one cares about/notices to one who is getting the attention of two boys who are in Devi’s eyes attractive in their own right. She is so consumed with two guys ACTUALLY being interested in her that she fails to realize she is/and will hurt them both, Do I think Paxton is genuinely attracted to Devi…maybe. But I’m still on the fence about their relationship to me in the beginning I felt Paxton felt Devi is just another meaningless high school fling that he will forget about once he gets to college but to Devi here’s this guy who is “popular” very attractive and he pays attention to her is she looking at the semantics of the situation and how Paxton is more than likely just using her and is only engaging with Devi to get a passing grade and to basically give her the superficial experience of a “high school boyfriend” no she’s not she’s looking at it like here’s this guy who is attractive and he wants to be with someone like me. But do I also believe Devi in S1 was using Paxton and then fell for him DEFINITELY but I will give credit to Paxton for trying at a real relationship with Devi and I hope he will try to be more open and honest.

Do I think Ben likes Devi I honestly do, While the insensitive jokes (exchanged between both) should be discussed I think Ben over time started to see Devi as a girl who finally saw him not the rich, annoying, know it all. But in his view Devi and him are on equal playing fields because they are both overly driven smart individuals and when she said yes to going out with him it was probably the first time he felt like a girl saw the real him. While Ben too more than likely struggles with abandonment issues him dating Devi in a way made him feel like this was the first time he could actual be happy about something cause it was something he actually wanted and not something he just did to earn points in others books and impress people he genuinely got something on his own and that he was actually happy not a front he put on. To me Ben’s abandonment issues come out even more than in S1 when he tells Devi why he’s so hurt and it’s the night of the party when she runs after Paxton (who he sees has it all) and Devi doesn’t “choose him” Do I think Ben and Devi should date cause they share some form of the same trauma no. But again Devi is not use and doesn’t even know what to do with the attention of two people. Again is Devi looking at the semantics of her relationship with Ben…No. I don’t think Devi even realizes she’s quite literally hurting two people cause we could also discuss how Ben and Paxton probably have had other flings and relationships without a second thought while Devi having no relationship experiences and this is territory for her and she has no idea what she is doing or how to properly navigate this situation.

I’m almost done with this long ass rant I promise but it’s two more things I want to make light of/point out I don’t think anyone really gives Devi credit for still going to therapy, loosing a parent is unbearable especially loosing one as young as Devi did, especially when you feel the only parent that truly understood and supported you is gone. Devi doing things that are impulsive and unreasonable because she quite literally has no guidance her mother is only consumed with Devi not making the family “look bad” Devi’s grief is so heavy and she feels she’s going at it alone because her mother doesn’t take genuine time to talk to her. Now was Devi “stalking” her mother extremely inappropriate yes for sure but do Nalini and her need to communicate better for Devi to understand that her mother wasn’t dating sure even if Nalini was on a date their should have been communication there. Devi will probably never stop grieving her father hell he literally came to her in a dream to tell her she deserves better when it came to “dating” Paxton and Nalini will probably never stop grieving her husband but she deserves happiness too and I believe if Devi and Nalini were both honest with each other her slowly dating again wouldn’t have been a problem. Another point I wanna make connecting Devi, Paxton, and Ben is they all have this view that the grass is greener on the other side and that’s just not the case. Ben is jealous of Paxton cause he feels he has the “Perfect life” but in actuality Paxton is extremely flawed and honestly insecure his own family doesn’t believe in him and he knows people only like him because he is attractive, while Paxton looks at Ben like this, while annoying Ben is smart, rich, and no one ever questions Ben’s intelligence but in actuality Ben is very lonely and has spent most of his life alone or being raised by other people which has caused him to put on a huge front to people and often times overcompensate in his social life, and Devi looks at other girls like they have it all and have 0 struggles or problems (I.e her views on Anissa) but Devi fails to realize thy also struggle, are insecure, is struggling with mental illness, and don’t have themselves figured out, and Devi is looking at this man her mom is “dating” as if he’s taking something away but In actuality he is experiencing his own losses. All in all Never Have I Ever gets teenage angst and messy problematic morally grey teenagers right and the fact that y’all beg for more “flawed or problematic” characters and when you get them you don’t like that they are just that it’s odd to me it seems like y’all only want problematic characters if it’s how you see fit.

TL;DR: Y’all need to stop acting like y’all weren’t gross annoying and had fuck ups as teenagers y’all should really stop pretending like teenagers in real and some of us as teens didn’t have/engage in relationships that weren’t good but we learned from it while this show isn’t real it shows y’all will scream let people fuck up and let them grow but you don’t actually mean it. Devi is a teenager and requires room to grow she even admits she acts out and is impulsive but y’all act like she’s supposed to have the self awareness of a 60 year old.

#netflix never have i ever #never have i ever season 2 #tv show #never have i ever #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #ben gross #nalini vishwakumar #maitreyi ramakrishnan #darren barnet #Poorna Jagannathan #jaren lewison #rant #analysis #spoilers #never have I ever spoilers #I wrote this at like 2am so if it doesn’t make much sense 🤷🏾‍♀️#I just had to get these thoughts out there cause it’s been on my mind

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coeurdastronaute · 3 years

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Nerd 15

Previously on Nerd

It hadn’t been a particularly good sleep. Lexa felt like she woke up every hour or so, each time checking to make sure the softly snoring girl beside her was still there, still asleep. Despite her own tossing and turning, Clarke didn’t seem to move much, just curled up tightly into herself, against Lexa’s side. Lexa kind of liked the feeling of the other body in her bed. She kind of liked that she was the person Clarke wanted.

Sometime after the tenth to twelfth time she woke up, Lexa realized the sun was up, and she couldn’t fight with her body waking any longer. Clarke didn’t move, and the night weighed on her girlfriend.

With a certain effort, Lexa decided to extract herself from the bed, even though Clarke didn’t seem to notice. It actually appeared as if Clarke was a very sound sleeper, as Lexa moved around the room and bumped the edge of her elbow on her desk and hissed at the contact. But as she stood still, she realized Clarke didn’t budge a bit.

Lexa scrolled through her phone as she tugged on some fresh clothes, checking over her shoulder quickly to make sure Clarke wasn’t peaking for some weird reason. She didn’t want Clarke to know how curious she was about the party before she arrived, but a part of her was incredibly interested in what might have panned out.

Like a thief, Lexa tugged on socks and buttoned her pants as she danced through the door in her attempt to remain as quiet as humanly possible. It took her a minute to close to door, watching it slowly inch toward the clasp, and finally it clicked nearly silent. She pushed her hair out of her face and slid into the bathroom, shoving a toothbrush into her mouth as she leaned against the counter and scrolled through the feed of Bellamy Blake’s infamous party.

As she scrubbed she watched the night happen in glimpses. She watched her girlfriend taking shots. She watched her girlfriend in that bikini. She watched her girlfriend look like she was desperately chasing an escape and numbness and it made Lexa mad for her. Lexa spit and rinsed and brushed and decided it was a good idea to scroll through Bellamy’s posts and she couldn’t understand how Clarke could like such different people. Bellamy Blake held week long parties and won state championships and got scouted. Lexa made movies and played board games and couldn’t figure out how to take a bra off.

With a final rinse she called her sister, hoping the time difference would mean she was awake, but as she bounded down the steps, she was met with a voicemail and furrowed. She needed research and information. Anya knew about all of this.

“You’re up early for someone having a sleepover with their girlfriend,” her mother greeted her as she looked up from the newspaper spread out across the kitchen island. Her father looked up over the edge of the sports section before looking back down.

“I told you we didn’t have to worry,” he muttered, flapping the paper out. Lexa rolled her eyes and took a seat.

“It wasn’t a sleepover.”

“Your girlfriend spent the night in your bed. I’d call it a sleepover, and I’d say we’re pretty cold parents for allowing it.”

“I appreciate it, but nothing was going to happen.”

“Good, because we discussed how alcohol can alter perception and consent--”

“Yes, yes,” Lexa sighed and reached for an apple as her father droned on yet again, hoping to avoid another sex talk. “I know, Dad.”

They all remained in a respective silence while working past the moment. It was weird, to want to talk to someone, let alone to have anything to talk about, but Lexa felt this need to figure something out, though she wasn’t sure what it would be. She wished her sister had just picked up the phone.

“So is Clarke…”

“Still asleep.”

“Did you have fun at the party?”

“I wasn’t there long,” Lexa shrugged. “I was at Luna’s working on our submission until late. Gus was there, so I knew people.”

She didn’t mention Michelle from math and her bikini. That felt inappropriate.

“How’s Clarke doing?” her mother pressed, sipping from her coffee again, warily watching her daughter.

“She’s… I don’t know. Sad. Mad. Stuck. Overwhelmed.”

“It was nice that you went to get her. I appreciate you telling us what’s going on instead of trying to sneak around. Anya did that. I can’t tell you how many times I had to pretend not to notice boys sneaking around the yard.”

“Really?”

“We trust you both,” her father explained. “We just appreciate you doing making us have to stretch it so far.”

“And we like Clarke, so we’re happy to help.”

“I don’t really know what else to do, you know?” she muttered, wiping her mouth and leaning against the counter, her knee coming up on the stool. “I think I’d be a little upset too if I were in her shoes, so I would want to probably do a bunch of stuff, but also I don’t want her to be upset.”

Lexa’s father looked at her and then to his wife. She cocked her head and gave him a look, to which he returned a shrug and ushered her to do something. They were stuck as well because no parenting book prepared them for teenagers. And Anya was very different.

“You can’t do anything,” he finally offered.

“Tim!” his wife warned.

“It’s true. You can’t make this better. It’s between Clarke and her mother and her father. But you can be there for her, and try to encourage her to be healthy about grief and pain. You have some experience, I’d say.”

Lexa looked back at him and clenched her lips, worrying the bottom one as she mulled over his words.

“And as much as we love what you want to do and be for Clarke, please don’t forget who you are in all of this. You have needs nad you have goals. Someone else’s wellness is not entirely on your shoulders.”

“I know.”

“But just be around. That’s all anyone can do. Be of service to others.”

“Your father’s right though,” her mother continued. “You can’t fix it, just be there. It’s a boring answer.”

“If Dad were dying would you have an affair?”

“Jesus, Lexa.”

“What?”

“I’d haunt you,” Tim decided before turning back to his paper. “I’d haunt you really hard.”

“I’m done with both of you today,” she decided, tossing her part of the paper in his lap as she walked through the living room. “It’s not even eight and I’m retreating to my office. I hope you’re both proud.”

The pair shared a smile and shrugged as she disappeared down the hall.

“You know, just because we gave you one sleepover, I hope you don’t get too comfortable asking. This was an emergency. It’s always okay in an emergency, and you know the difference.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I have golf in a bit, but this afternoon we could do some driving practice if you wanted?”

“Sounds good,” Lexa smiled.

For no reason at all, except maybe utter relief that she didn’t have to deal with the same problems Clarke did, she hugged her dad’s neck lazily over the back of the couch before making her way back upstairs.

XXXXXXXXXX

The vague memories of the night lingered like the stale taste of terrible vodka and beer, and Clarke smacked her lips, hoping to find any kind of liquid to get rid of the dry mouth. But her eyes felt heavy and glued shut, and her stomach felt like it was currently on the spin cycle, so moving wasn’t entirely feasible.

It had been dumb. It’d been stupid, even. Possibly as far as moronic, to go to Bellamy’s party, but it was the best alternative and boy did it feel nice to escape. Even the current state she found herself in was a welcomed punishment from feeling fine and being unable to exist in the world. Her current physical ailments felt like finally, the universe was manifesting itself, and she could fix the swirling stomach and cottonmouth. She could fix the spinning and soreness and bruises from God-knew what happened last night.

There wasn’t much else to be done, she suspected. Fix this moment, this hour, this day, and hope to survive to another one. It all had to end at some point.

Clarke finally managed to open her eyes, a feat she was certain no other human could have accomplished. She looked around Lexa’s room and gratefully accepted the water bottle and aspirin waiting beside the bed.

It took until halfway chugged, that she realized she was empty and the room was quiet. So she took a breath and held her stomach, certain she could hold it down. Carefully, she dressed, stealing Lexa’s old track sweats and an older soccer shirt, before making her way down the hall in search of something to fill her stomach.

“Someone else’s wellness is not entirely on your shoulders.”

“I know.”

Clarke paused at the top of the stairs when she heard the family talking. It felt like it was about her. She knew it had to be. It made her want to vomit.

“But just be around. That’s all anyone can do. Be of service to others.”

“Your father’s right though. You can’t fix it, just be there. It’s a boring answer.”

It was hard to be the subject of needing things. Clarke wasn’t someone who needed anyone. She wasn’t someone who wanted or needed to depend on anyone, and yet there was a girl, a girl who was too afraid to make a move, who imagined the world in terms of movie scenes and interpreted her own existence in the great world as a cosmic joke, always waiting for the punchline-- and this girl wanted to fix things.

“If Dad were dying would you have an affair?”

“Jesus, Lexa.”

“What?”

It hadn’t been a joke, but it made Clarke smile. No one expected that Lexa was serious, and she wanted to know the answer. There was shuffling and moving, and Clarke crept her way back to Lexa’s room.

She felt even dumber than she thought possible for going to see Bellamy. She wouldn’t do it again. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t. The words echoed in her head. She meant it, she was certain. She wouldn’t.

“You’re awake,” Lexa grinned as she quietly closed the door behind her only to find her girlfriend sitting in her bed.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“Mhm, we’ll see.”

“Don’t be mean to me, I’m sick.”

“You’re hungover.”

“You don’t know what it feels like, do you?” Clarke accused, accepting the orange and another bottle of water that was handed to her as her girlfriend joined her in bed.

“Don’t see much appeal.”

“It always seems like a good idea at the time…”

Lexa just shrugged and crossed her legs. She ran her thumb along the faded script on the side of Clarke’s knee.

“I should head home,” she decided softly. “Sleep this off and such.”

“You could sleep here. I’m just going to work on the car a bit. Maybe go for a run. I have homework to finish.”

“I have to go home at some point.”

“Maybe.”

“It was very sweet of you to come get me.”

“I’m just glad you texted.”

“I’m not going to be like this, you know?”

“You can be however you want.”

It was a sweet sentiment that Clarke didn’t have the mental capacity to sit with, she decided, because she wasn’t ready to decide to be anything. But tomorrow, maybe, she’d think about it. She knew what she didn’t want to be, and that seemed like something, at least.

“I texted Raven to come get me.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I needed last night to cleanse myself, I think. I need today to regroup.”

“You have a very weird process,” Lexa decided.

Clarke just chuckled and leaned forward, burying her face in Lexa’s thigh and sighing.

XXXXXXXXXX

For the moment, the very tiny, very quick moment, everything felt like it was caught up, and Lexa allowed herself a few moments of quiet in the garage, because come hell or high water, she was going to finish the car by the last day of school. SATs were done, finally, and something that didn’t need to be explicitly worried about until scores were released in a few weeks. Her prom outfit was already purchased and prepared. Homework and studying were done. Sports were over for the season and conditioning wasn’t set to start for another two months, though she’d start her own soon enough. Her girlfriend was at work and then going off to a cheer competition for the weekend. Luna was putting the finishing touches on their film school application project. And anyone else that might ask Lexa to do anything was promptly ignored.

Two weeks before spring break, and Lexa was feeling high on her on efficiency.

All in all, Lexa decided that she had at least three days to power through as much as she could with her dad in a final push before sending it off to the paint appointment.

She hadn’t counted on her sister though, and as her phone blared, interrupting the music playing over the speakers, she smacked her head on the body of the car and slid herself from under it, grumbling the entire time.

“Don’t you have fancy plans. It’s a Friday night,” she chided the eldest.

“I’m getting ready, I was just thinking about you.”

“Gross.”

“Because I ran into a girl that asked about you and I had no idea you had a friend at CMU, let alone a drop dead gorgeous film student.”

Lexa furrowed and twirled her wrench around before trying to dive back in under the seat and finish installing the seatbelts in the back. It dawned on her then and she snorted.

“That’s just Costia.”

“Ohhh, just Costia-- who the fuck is Costia?”

“I met her when I came to visit last fall remember? You were the one telling me to make a move but I was very drunk, something you did to me as well?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“At the party. I posted a picture…” she grunted and twisted. “She found me on Instagram. We talk about movies and I’ve shown her some of my stuff and junk.”

“Interesting.”

“Why?”

“Just not many freshman looking to hang out with high school juniors.”

“I’m clearly advanced.”

“Clearly,” Anya rolled her eyes over the phone.

“I’ve been talking to her about film programs and applying--”

“Here? You’re thinking about coming here?”

“Fuck!” she hissed and sat up, doing her best to suck on the cut that came to her thumb from her maneuvering. “I don’t know.”

It wasn’t a serious inquiry, Lexa thought to herself. She was set. She had a plan with Luna. They’d had it since they were ten, and there was really on reason to deviate from it. But then a stranger liked her stuff, and this stranger made stuff Lexa liked. And the stranger became a friend who gave her some screenwriting tips and pushed her to get better at it. And the stranger told her the east coast was just as important to film.

But it didn’t matter.

There was a plan.

“You should seriously consider it. It’s a great program I hear. Come out for spring break!”

“I should stay here.”

“And do what? Work on that car? Dad already told me he’s sending it out for interior and paint. You’re pretty much done anyway.”

“Mom and Dad have conferences that week. I was going to watch movies all week with Clarke.”

“Bring her too. Sounds like she needs an escape.” Anya was getting excited, and Lexa was tugged along for the ride. “You can crash in my dorm. Even just for a few days, not the whole week.”

“Mom won’t like me missing so much time to study.”

“Call it a college visit for a potential school.”

“Luna will lose her mind,” Lexa shook her head and pinched her thumb to try to stop it without a bandaid.

“Fuck Luna. I’m going to ask Mom if she’d rather you were here, supervised by me, or home alone for a whole week.”

From the change in volume, Lexa knew she was texting immediately. She sighed. It would be fun to see the school as a potential option. It might even be nice to catch up with Costia. It would even be better to see her sister, who just at the moment, she realized she’d missed since her last visit.

“Should I ask Clarke if she wants to go?” Lexa finally ventured, returning to her work.

“Definitely.”

“Should I really consider your school as an option?”

“You should.”

She had a plan, Lexa remembered, and there was no point deviating, but she did want to see her sister.

“If they say it’s okay.”

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