People are always talking about how characters can’t just be friends anymore. That every pair of characters that act amicable towards each other gets labeled as lovers by the fandom and has their friendship completely disregarded. And all of that’s true. But I just want to say that it also applies to enemies to lovers.
Nobody can just be enemies either it seems. Every dynamic involving characters fighting or having a rivalry or otherwise unfriendly relationship gets reduced to “spicy sexual tension” and “hiding their true feelings behind a different kind of passion.” Hate, anger, fear, disgust, distrust, etc. are such interesting human emotions on their own. They don’t need romance to make them interesting. People can just hate each other sometimes.
I’m so sick of romance culture and it’s need to insert itself into everything to make things better, more interesting, or more complex. Maybe if you just stop and shut up for a second, you’d see that it’s already all that and more. People need to learn to appreciate emotions that aren’t love and lust, and types of passion that aren’t motivated by love or lust, and character dynamics that don’t revolve and love and lust.
And people actually think that enemies to lovers is rare and underrated? “I’m so quirky and edgy! I like enemies to lovers and real relationships that aren’t all unicorns and rainbows!” Yeah and so do the rest of the 8 billion people on this planet, you’re not special. Like yeah, ship what you want or whatever, but I’m just sick of this shit.
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A completely sad/sappy (sadpy?) self indulgent piece I wrote last night while feeling several Feelings. consider this an author insert & death sans thing
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“... tell me about you.”
She blinked, sitting up, no longer leaning against his soft black cloak, waking out of the stillness the tree's shade and the gentle rain had cast over both of them. His words had come completely out of nowhere.
“Pardon?”
Reaper looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “i can’t say i’ve met many other mortals who seek out the company of death.”
She gave him a look. “Don't be ridiculous. I know plenty who would seek your company.”
“they would seek my touch.” His gaze was low. Those eyelights saw more than normal eyes ever could. “they would seek... earthly desires. nothing wrong with that, i also seek those. but i’ve never had someone seek me out merely for my company.”
“I’m not that interesting.” She mused, softly, notably leaning back against the tree, and not him. “Besides. You’re great company.”
“tell me regardless.” He pressed. “consider it my just payment. for my great company.”
... She hummed. Despite her easygoing exterior, he could sense her resistance, her immediate discomfort. He had sensed it, from the beginning; her unwillingness to share about herself. Her quick deflections, her paradoxical fear of letting others know her, despite her clear desperation to be known.
He was patient. He would wait as long as it took for her to collect her words.
...
“... You’re the only one who gets it.” She said, eventually. Her voice lacked its usual quickness, its usual exact choice of word, the wittiness he liked so much.
That gave Sans pause. “... go on.”
“I don’t... love anyone. I don’t feel romance. I can’t help it.” She stared into the middle distance. “I’ve never been in love with anybody. Even when I really wanted to be.”
He watched her, quietly.
“... I let my guard down, y’know. Every now and then. I let myself get close to people. Then... sometimes they start to feel things that I can’t reciprocate. They want me to love, but I can’t. They see it as a fault with me, or worse themselves, and what we had in the first place falls apart.” She looked down at her hands. “I gave up getting close, because I’m tired of hurting people I care about with the way I am.”
“... hm.”
“... You’re the only one who... gets it, I think.” She couldn’t look at him. “Feeling like you’re separated from everyone else, through no fault of your own. But at the end of the day, that separation is the reality you’re in, and you have to live with it.”
“feeling as if everyone is part of something that you can’t even begin to be part of. and even if you suddenly joined one day, everyone else is so far ahead of you, you could never hope to catch up in time.”
She nodded. She did eventually look at him, a small smile forming on her face. “Yes.”
“you enjoy my company most, because you know i won’t grow to expect anything from you?”
“You’re mature. You’re... well. Death. I’m a human. I can trust you not to love me. And theoretically, even if you did, I think you’d have very different expectations about it. Expectations we could manage.”
“... is that why... your relationship with error is so fraught?”
She let out a short laugh. “Error and I are ‘on break’. Would you believe me if I told you I used to like him the most, because I thought he hated my guts too much to catch feelings?”
Sans grinned. “error is full of surprises. yet i think the fact that you grew to somehow like him surprises me the most.”
“He’s a giant manbaby. But he’s funny. And I liked having someone I could shamelessly argue with.” She tucked her knees up to her chin. “We’re not on speaking terms at the moment. He got upset I spend so much time with you, then tried to kiss me.”
“... ah. that’s why he’s been watching romantic aus.”
“... I write about worlds full of love. Worlds where, regardless of looks or faults, romantic love always prevails and conquers all. Worlds where a self-insert can feel all those feelings I hear about on the radio.” Her breathing was very controlled, very quiet. “But it’s wish fulfilment, isn’t it? Giving a version of me the things I’ll never have. Giving everyone else the stories I’ll never be part of. Even if one of my most perfect characters stepped right out of my pages, I’d never have that 'happy ending'. I couldn’t give them what they wanted from me. I couldn’t give them what I want to give.”
A pause. She didn’t seem to like how obviously upset she had become. She emotionally retreated, quickly fixing on a smile, lowering her legs back into their previous crossed position.
“... I sound full of myself, I know." She chuckled artificially. "Oh, woe is me, I can’t get close to anyone because everyone just falls in love with me all the time.”
“no, not at all.” Sans reached out, and laid his hand over hers. “it’s happened more than once. you can’t blame yourself for recognising a pattern.”
... She squeezed his hand.
“i can’t promise i won’t love you. that’s a dangerous promise to make.” He murmured. “but i can promise i won’t ever expect romance from you, nor let romantic feelings define our relationship. closeness and love does not require romance. i’ve had thousands of years to come to grips with much more upsetting subjects than a woman potentially not returning affection i develop.”
...
She shuffled up to him, and tucked herself back against his cloak, her cheek pressed to the soft fabric. He reciprocated, wrapping an arm around her.
“Thank you.” She said, quietly.
"of course."
... They stayed like that, for a long time.
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