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#i mean it wasn't even a bad ARGUMENT
lord-squiggletits · 2 months
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"Rodimus is a better Prime because it didn't hurt for him to bond with the Matrix while for Optimus it did" headcanon/theory my beloathed.
One day I'm literally gonna snap and make a whole post addressing why what's wrong bc I'm tired of the inaccuracy and tired of ppl not understanding the Point TM of IDW and its version of the Matrix/Primacy and even more tired of people putting down Optimus in favor of Rodimus by essentially arguing that being unworthy means you deserve to be punished/put in pain bc you just weren't good enough to hold the Symbol of Ultimate Authority
#it's wrong on so many levels both in terms of lore and as well as like what the general themes of idw1 are#it's just a validation contest using the matrix as some magical symbol to decide who's the most special#which is ironically something that was a plot point in exrid/OP. specifically how stupid of an idea that is ldskjflksd#ppl revealing that they havent read anything besides mtmte/ll as usual#like half the reason ppl think optimus is a bad prime and rodimus is a good prime is literally bc like#optimus was written by an author who was specifically trying to deconstruct him (sometimes to the point of absurdity)#and rodimus was written by an author who takes a more optimistic/idealistic approach. and is also better at writing#but also like am i seriously the only person who thinks that that argument is fucked up?????#like 'OP felt pain which means he's unworthy/not a real prime/not a true leader'#ok so you think that there's a hierarchy of moral goodness in which anyone who falls short of that Moral Ideal should suffer#as a sign of their unworthiness?? like does that not sound dystopian as hell to any of you?? why would you WANT the matrix to work like tha#even if the theory were true (which it isn't) why would you view the matrix as a good authoritative moral judge of character#if its idea of 'moral judgement' is to inflict pain on anyone who's supposedly not truly good/worthy#wasn't the entire point of the ending of LL (including rodimus being a good leader) that everyone is worth it?#like rodimus literally said 'you ARE damn well good enough' or something like that#so what? everyone else in the universe tries their best and that's enough but somehow when OP suffers it's like#a sign that he's not actually a good prime/leader?? we're really going with the punitive perspective purely for One Guy??#swear to god ppl are projecting their authority issues onto Optimus the way they shit on him for things they would excuse#if any other character did it#Optimus is uniquely deserving of pain/being marked as unworthy bc idk he was a cop once and that offends my delicate sensibilities#what's even funnier is how much harm was inflicted by rodimus as a captain sheerly due to his stupidity or ego but everyone forgives him#i guess bc as long as the matrix likes him that means he's valid no matter what he actually does as a person#WHICH IS SOMETHING IDW ITSELF ARGUED AGAINST BC A LOT OF THE PRIMES THAT WERE CHOSEN BY THE MATRIX#WERE DICKS AND THE FACT THEY COULD WIELD THE MATRIX DIDN'T MAKE THEM GOOD PEOPLE#like oh my god stop using the matrix as an arbiter of moral authority in idw1 it literally goes against the themes of the story#including the themes that are embodied in rodimus himself#idw op love
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exausta-verytired · 17 days
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this is far from the worse one it's the example I give for not being explicit but like I fully internalized the word "nymphet" when I was young I thought that was a real thing and a normal way of refering to myself because I could tell there was something different between me and the normal happy kids but I didn't know how to say "adultification, religious racism and anticomunism made men objectify me and the fact I was already 'broken' made them comfortable enough with just being another rapist instead of the first one" so I just used that instead
#which was the LEAST offensive narrative about me the sex demon brought as divine punishment for my family was hmmm a choice from neighbours#just... can we think a little about what the word grooming implies#I had it good it wasn't incest#'had it good' might be dramatic I just mean breaking narratives that justify abuse it's even harder when it comes from the household#I've worked with many girls who explained me what they thought of as 'father-daughter caress'#but don't worry I don't rank trauma me and my ex has that weird competitions of 'you had the more fucked up childhood' it did wonders for m#so whenever I say 'at least it wasn't incest' i can hear his delulu voice right next to me saying 'oh yeah? having only one rapist is#objectively better than multiple. I'm a man you're a woman. checkmate!' okay babyboy that works so well about your bio father you live with#weird insane teenage rage would never allow anyone else to talk about me like he does but it was good for us#because the real joke is you can invalidate any victim about how it was 'not that bad' if you talk long enough which people do#but I'm going on too many tangents today#but if there's too things I've learnt is that you can be traumatised by sex you technically 'consented' to#but also every rape victim feels guilty about 'participating' too much especially when it's a repeated abuser#and we blame ourselves for stuff we recognise as manipulation/threats/coercion easily when it's someone else#my will to delete this one versus the fact every time I mention our worse fight me going 'oh yeah cuz an 8 year old would win an argument#against his only parent that is threatening the other kids' versus him 'oh but you should win at 10 against the man who threatened to arrest#your father' and me screaming 'DIFFERENT' but having my brain rewritten... has had people telling me 'thats helpful' more than once ugh#also i fucking hate the way rapists talk to children I cant count on a single hand how many cases of 'entertain me or I cant promise I wont#do anything to the younger ones' I have PERSONALLY witnessed.#.txt
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oh my god y'all were right drive *is* such a bluesey song i'm so second hand embarrassed about maggie and halsey's twitter fight😭
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yokelfelonking · 9 months
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Post 9/11 Trivia
Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:
There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)
On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.
People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.
As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.
Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"
People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.
"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)
People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.
On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.
Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)
EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.
Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)
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roaringroa · 8 months
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just sent in an assignment exactly 1:50 minutes before it was due oh my god i can feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins
#went off my adhd meds during the extended weekend cause i spent it at a uni sports competition#which means during the day i watched matches and cheered for my uni and during the night i got drunk and danced badly to music i don't like#from what i've read the meds would mess up my ability to tell when i need to stop drinking and yeah i would nawt have liked that#cause i actually pride myself in the fac that while i do get drunk and have fun i always know when to stop#like i've never in my life puked from alcohol and i almost never have hangovers the day after drinking#anyway i went off my meds and only started taking it again today so no effects yet the adhd is back full force#and honestly i wasn't too worried about this assignment cause i had to choose and comment on 3 civil law cases#each dealing with different things regarding evidence: one borrowed evidence one procuration of evidence determined by the judge#and one inversion of the onus of the evidence (with the catch of it not being a consumer relationship it had to be regulated by cpc not cdc#i had already separated each of these so i'd only have to write about them which would take what? 1 hour max?#so i started writing 21:30 pretty late considering i had almost the whole day to do it but still had a reasonable amount of time#however... as i started writing about the last one i was like hold on... and then realized i misunderstood the case and it wasn't applicabl#it was already like 22:20 by then so i scrambled to find a inversion of onus one but like ALL OF THEM ARE REGARDING CONSUMER RELATIONSHIPS!#i spent like an hour and 10 minutes trying to find one and i simply couldn't...#so i made do with a case where one part argued saying the relationship didn't fit the one described in cdc (consumer defense code)#and the judge said you can apply cdc but even if you couldn't you can apply the cpc (civil procedure code) so either way onus is inverted#and then i just pretended the whole argument was about the second point cause at that point i had like 15 min to write about it and send#did not proofread a single word idk if it's coherent or even correct but idc at least it was sent on time#and the other 2 parts are pretty well done so not too bad even if the last one is wrong#my post#anyway no classes tomorrow cause it's the day my uni was founded and they celebrate by cancelling everything so hooray
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inkskinned · 10 months
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no, actually, where is the whimsy?
my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?
we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.
earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.
i stared at my ex. he stared at me.
his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!
it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.
and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.
my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.
which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.
but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.
the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.
so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.
and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.
where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.
it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.
this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.
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tobiasdrake · 3 months
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*deep breath* Okay. Here we go.
I don't think the Netflix Avatar show likes women very much. It's a great show for fans of Aang, Sokka, Zuko, and Iroh specifically. All four of those characters get a ton of great material. In fact, it's super great for Sokka stans, because the show takes him ultra-seriously and can't go five minutes without one character or another (usually a woman) praising him.
But the way it handles its female cast is troublesome.
Katara
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So, all three of the main trio got some changes made to their stories. They changed Aang's story so that he wasn't running away from his responsibilities; He was just clearing his head and somehow accidentallied himself into a tsunami. Whoopsy-dooodle. Aang did nothing wrong.
They changed Sokka's story so that him being a leader of his people and a great guardian warrior is treated with complete seriousness. Multiple times, characters stop to talk about how brave and noble Sokka is for taking on such an intense responsibility, and tell him to his face what a great warrior and a wonderful leader he is. Also his misogyny is erased.
And they changed Katara's story so that she directly got her mom killed because she sucks at waterbending.
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Katara tries to waterbend to attack the Fire Nation soldier but couldn't manage it, provoking the soldier to start actively searching for her and forcing her mom to fake a waterbending attack and draw his fire. They changed Katara's story so that her bad decision making fucking got her mom killed.
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This is treated with the same level of severity as "Sokka was bullied by mean kids and also his dad doesn't think he's good enough to be a leader."
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"I hoped Sokka would do better but not everyone is meant to have people's lives in their hands," Sokka's dad says of him.
Yeah, you're right, that's totally comparable to watching your mom get barbecued because you tried to waterbend in a situation you shouldn't have and then failed.
In fact, they give Sokka's greatest trauma more weight because it gets examined again with Yue next episode, while Katara actively getting her mom killed isn't brought up again at all. We get traumatized glimpses of it throughout the season leading up to the reveal, but after this scene in episode 5, it never comes up again.
But to be fair, Katara was a child. An event this significant would surely have motivated her, driving her to become the great waterbender she is now, right?
No! Katara sucks at waterbending and needs men who aren't even waterbenders to teach her how to waterbend. She requires instruction from Aang in episode 1 to learn how to waterbend, then from Jet in episode 3 to learn how to waterbend better.
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And unlike the show, her relationship with Aang isn't a give-and-take; Katara doesn't teach Aang a single goddamn thing. He never learns to waterbend. She is a strictly a pupil throughout the whole season. Though she at least gets officially labeled a master in episode 8, so there's that.
In any case, the whole traumatic memory thing isn't even the only time she's directly compared with Sokka. Episodes 3 and 4 see Katara and Sokka bicker over whose morally dubious side character is better. Sokka likes the Mechanist and Katara likes Jet.
Ultimately, Katara is forced to eat crow when Jet turns out to be the worst, while Sokka is vindicated when the Mechanist sees the error of his ways and reforms. But not before two separate arguments where Sokka calls Katara childish and accuses her of acting like a little girl.
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Arguments ultimately resolved when Katara apologizes to Sokka for not adequately respecting his very serious and ultra important role as village protector and leader. Gives him a whole speech about how great and glorious he is. And Sokka... appreciates Katara learning to respect him properly, I guess, because he never offers any similar sentiments back to her.
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The show just... They need you to know how important Sokka is, okay? It's very important that you respect Sokka.
Suki
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Suki suffers tremendously from that whole "Sokka's misogyny was removed" thing. Y'know, because they need something else to do with that episode. The show is deeply aware that Suki is Sokka's love interest, so they just do that right off the bat. Suki falls madly in love with him from the moment they meet, and spends the entire episode making goo-goo eyes and trying to get him to Notice Me Senpai.
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They still do the "Suki Trains Sokka" stuff. But Sokka is a serious, dignified manly man worthy of the deepest respect now, so of course they don't make him wear the Kyoshi uniform. Instead, the main purpose of his training is to allow them to flirt some more. It's less martial arts training and more an excuse to grope each other and near-kiss.
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Suki's just a waifu now. She still fights real good, but all of the stuff that made her relationship with Sokka interesting has been erased.
Yue
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Yue, similarly, leaps straight to shipping from the word go. They write out her fiance, Hahn, by having Yue briefly meet Sokka earlier in the season. She spends one minute talking to him in the Spirit World about Spirit World lore; In that time, she falls so desperately, madly, unfathomably in love with him that she breaks off her marriage to Hahn and devotes herself to waiting for him to one day come to her.
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"Never have I known such joys as that time you let me explain the spirit bear Hei Bei to you. Truly, we are destined to be together for life."
Like with Suki, they go out of their way to have Yue and Sokka already be a ship from the word 'go' so they don't have to spend time developing any kind of meaningful attraction.
They just. They really want you to know that Sokka is the manliest and most desirable man ever to walk this earth. It is very important that you understand how great he is. Women hurl themselves into his arms with zero effort whatsoever, because he's just so goddamn irresistible.
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Fortunately, Hahn is super okay with this turn of events. He's the most chill guy ever, he gets along perfectly well with Sokka, and he completely supports Yue's right to dump him! In the famously misogynistic Northern Water Tribe, no less! What a swell guy. Aren't men swell?
June
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June gets hit with that "rewritten as hollow waifu" stick too, but her eyes are set on Iroh. They rewrote June to be super attracted and flirty towards the man who was her unwanted sexual harasser in the source material. So that's fun.
Also, she barely does anything. Zuko hires her to find Aang, she succeeds, and then she fucks right off out of the show - But she manages to find time to express how unbelievably sexy Iroh is twice during that time.
She seriously just dropped into the show to flirt with Iroh and leave. She is unbelievably inconsequential.
Kyoshi
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And then there's Kyoshi. They really want you to hate Kyoshi. She's constantly shot from below, as if looking down on Aang and the audience. Her voice takes on a demonic echoing reverb at one point as she's screaming at Aang that "THE AVATAR MUST BE A MERCILESS WARRIOR!!!"
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She despises Aang, calling him a coward for running away from his responsibilities - Which, I remind you, is no longer a plot point because they unwrote that flaw from his character. So she's just a complete and utter asshole, shot from the asshole angle, yelling violently at him with asshole sound effects. They want you to despise this woman.
Azula
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Awkwardly, they do not seem to want you to despise Azula.
There's a lot to be said for how Ozai treats Azula in the original show. The way the favoritism he shows her is every bit as cruel and manipulative as the unfavoritism that he shows Zuko. Ozai does not love Azula. He loves the reflection of himself he sees in her eyes, and his encouragement urges her to polish herself to ensure his reflection always shines through.
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This is not that. The show instead erases the favoritism entirely. Ozai doesn't really care one way or another about either of his kids. He plays them against each other, bragging openly to Azula about how great Zuko is and unpleasably writing Azula off as weak and useless.
They've rewritten the dynamic between abusive father and his two abused kids in order to take Azula's pride away. Reimagining her from a gifted prodigy who excels at imitating the toxic behaviors of a father who doesn't truly care for her, to a put-upon overachiever tearing herself in knots to live up to the standards of her unpleasable father.
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This results in a truly wild portrayal of Azula as insecure and jealous of Ozai's seemingly love for Zuko. Here, she is simply a browbeaten child constantly complaining to her friends about how mean her father is and conspiring to get one up over Daddy's Golden Child Zuko.
Which she fails at, because she backs Zhao. Zuko deftly defeats her without even realizing they're in competition.
Conclusion
The season ends well for some of these women. It ends promising that maybe we'll see Katara teaching Aang some day. It ends with Zhao bragging that Ozai just used Zuko to train Azula so maybe we'll see the more confident and misguidedly proud Azula some day. Yue becomes the moon like she's supposed to. June's still out there so maybe she'll get to do something again some day.
Katara gets to fight Pakku and lose, but she looks pretty cool. She gets to fight Zuko and lose, but she looks pretty cool. Azula learns to lightningbend because she's just so mad about Ozai's contempt for her and favoritism for Zuko, which isn't how you lightningbend.
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But promises of future content fall flat when the content that exists is so underwhelming. This season made its feelings on these characters pretty evident, and it's unwise to expect better material from creators who've disappointed you with the material they already made.
The women of Netflix Avatar simply do not get to shine, outside of superficial moments like the "Women of Northern Water Tribe demand the right to fight and then fuck off and don't do anything for the entire rest of the episode" bit.
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"In the midst of battle, we demand that you stop being sexist and give us permission to fight! This is a way better idea than convincing you to teach us to fight before the battle begins."
The characters of this show feel as if they've been reimagined to glorify the boys at the expense of the girls. The boys are treated with a great amount of care. They're dignified and made important movers of the plot, with their rough edges sanded off. While the girls are molded around them.
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blu-s0da · 11 months
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i am way too tired i should not be making generalizations
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thebibliosphere · 3 months
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Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.
But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.
Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:
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Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.
But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.
I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.
There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."
I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.
(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)
That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.
I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.
So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.
But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.
So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.
Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?
Even the ones who might disagree with you?
Even if they're on welfare?
Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?
Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷‍♀️.
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caparrucia · 1 year
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Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.
Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.
And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"
But like.
If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.
So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.
There is no nuance to this.
A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.
That's it.
That's all.
"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.
"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.
"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.
"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.
"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.
But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.
"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.
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janitorhutcherson · 7 months
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Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)
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hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!
summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam
warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!
word count: 2,925
nsfw after the cut!!
You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.
...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.
Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up. 
Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.
"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.
"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very, very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?" 
His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows. 
"Use your words," he demanded. 
"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes. 
"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.
"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.
"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.
He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.
“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.
“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.
“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.
“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”
With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.
“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.
“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.
“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.
“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.
“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.
“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.
“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.
“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.
“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.
“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.
“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.
“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.
“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.
When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.
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dearaceofhearts · 1 month
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you walk out after an argument
characters: husk, alastor, angel dust, vox, lucifer word count: 2.9k genre: angst to fluff summary: after an argument with them, you walk out and don't come back for a few days. how do they react? author's note: hello yes this is my first time actually posting something. erm, i think i wrote too much (sorry) but hey we roll with it!! also dude i accidentally posted this before it was ready twice and i had a heart attack oh my god. anyways i don't think vox's is really fluff (oops) but everyone else's is
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♡ husk
when you slam the door shut on your way out, husk lets out a low grumble, setting down the glass he was cleaning onto the bar counter with a quiet sigh. it was one of the first arguments you'd had in a long time. although he wasn't usually one to get riled up so easily, the two of you knew each other well enough to know just what buttons to push to get under the other's skin. that, alongside him already having a bad day, had been a recipe for disaster.
in the few days that pass by, it's hard to tell just how affected he is by your absence since he does a pretty good job of keeping a cool facade. to anyone looking, he wouldn't appear any different than usual, just idly cleaning bottles as he always does.
but it's the small things that give away just how much husk cares and worries for you, like how his eyes flicker towards the door whenever someone comes in, his ears perking up slightly. he hates the twinge of disappointment that follows when it's not you, a slight scowl curling at his lips as he takes a swig of alcohol from one of the many bottles on the shelves of the bar. he misses talking to you. you're his favourite drinking buddy, after all.
his gaze always seems to wander back to the front door of the hotel, lingering for just a little too long before he eventually turns back to the bar, expression settling back into its usual grouchiness. but underneath that lies a hint of worry that gnaws at him in the back of his mind, even though he knows you're more than capable of handling yourself. at the end of the day, you can never be too careful in hell.
husk won't force you to come back, but he just wants to know that you're safe and sound. he trusts that you'll come back when you're ready so that the two of you can talk it over and hopefully resolve things. he doesn't want to leave it like this, and he's sure you don't either. you mean a lot more to him than he'd like to admit.
when you decide to finally return to the hotel, he pauses upon catching sight of you stepping through the doorway. he can't help the small wave of relief that washes over him, though you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he smoothly resumes restocking the bar. when you approach the counter, he looks up, giving you a short nod. "hey." he greets you, tone surprisingly softer than you're used to, "you're back."
husk's not really the type to beat around the bush, so he'd likely address the argument pretty quickly. he's also not particularly one for verbal apologies, so he'd probably be more willing to show it through his actions. you see it in the way he lets you cling to him a little longer than he normally does, leaning into him as he wordlessly holds you, his tail loosely curling around your leg. if you listen closely, you can hear some faint purring, too. it makes you smile slightly.
"alright, 'nuff of this sappy stuff." husk grumbles after a few more moments, patting your back gently before pulling back. "i'd kill for a drink right now. care to join me?" he raises a brow, a familiar glint in his eyes as he slides back behind the counter, already moving to make what he knows is your favourite drink.
you grin as you meet his eyes, expression softening. "of course. i'd love nothing more."
♡ alastor
"you're not listening, al." you murmur, exhaling quietly. this makes him pause for a moment, head tilted. your voice sounds different to what he's used to — you're not even angry, no — you just sound... tired. the argument had been going on for a while, and neither of you were getting through to the other.
when you move to leave, he makes no move to stop you, simply watching you with an intent gaze. his voice rings out clear as day in the empty silence. "where do you think you're going, my dear?"
he falters ever so slightly when you turn back to face him with a sturdy, stern gaze, responding with a flatly spoken "out", leaving no room for anything more to be said before closing the door behind you with a quiet click.
alastor won't chase after you, because he expects that you'll come back to him of your own accord. to him, it's basically guaranteed how this'll play out. he's used to demons falling right into his hands without having to exert much effort on his end, and believes that this would be no different.
so when a few days pass by with you not approaching him at all, he finds himself slightly irritated and mildly perplexed, eyes narrowed as his clawed finger taps against his cane with idle impatience. why haven't you sought him out yet?
he's seen you around the hotel, but you've never once acknowledged his presence even if the two of you were in the same room, breezing past him while he's left staring, watching you converse with everyone except him. his eye twitches in irritation, the perpetual smile on his lips strained.
...eventually, after playing a long waiting game to no avail, he decides that perhaps rosie would be able to offer some helpful advice on how to approach this situation, since he's not used to actually handling delicate emotional matters without the— well, the manipulation and deal-making.
one of the main issues is his massive ego. it's that unfaltering pride that gets in the way of him apologising. he may be the radio demon, but all that power can't help him here. and he'd never openly admit to such, but he truly is at somewhat of a loss here. he's already tried most things that he's sure would usually make you forgive him, though for a reason unbeknownst to him, it's not working this time.
"oh alastor," rosie shakes her head with a small huff, "a lady's heart is to be treated with care." she lends some further words of wisdom and encouragement that he listens to with great attentiveness, since he does (begrudgingly) enjoy your company, and it would be a shame if it was lost over such a, in his eyes, trivial matter.
upon his return to the hotel, he manages to get you to sit down with him (after much polite pestering and insistence) to have a chat over some tea. when all is said and done, the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. you sip your tea, watching the blazing fires of hell from the balcony.
"refill?" alastor offers, glancing at you briefly through a sip of his own tea.
"much appreciated." you hum, legs crossed as you throw him a small, slack smile.
♡ angel dust
his frustration slowly fizzles out as the door closes behind you, and the guilt slowly starts to creep in. he knows he shouldn't have said what he did, and he wants nothing more than to apologise and make it up to you — but he understands that it's probably better to give you some time to cool off before trying to approach you again.
despite the argument and the harsh words exchanged between you, the fact that he cares for you with his whole heart will never change, and he hopes you know that too.
while you're away, angel always finds his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you're doing. are you eating okay? are you drinking enough? sleeping enough? with a shake of his head and a small sigh, he tries his best to return his focus back to the task at hand, whatever it may be.
he knows you can take care of yourself perfectly fine, but he just... misses you. the guilt eats away at him when he's reminded of the look on your face when you left, the brief glimmer of hurt in your eyes before you masked it with anger and tore your gaze away.
one particular night, angel heads over to your room in the hotel out of habit, not really thinking about it when he raises a fist to knock on the door. he had been hoping to spend some time with you, since today had been a particularly rough day for him. he's also been craving for one of your sleepover nights for a while, those nights where you two would stay up to talk about anything and everything until dawn rises. those times were comforting for him — a rare moment of respite in his life.
but then he stops abruptly, remembering that you're not there. he lets his hand fall back to his side, expression quietly downcast. he stands alone in the silent, empty hallway. has it always been this cold?
after a few days, he's just about damn ready to go looking for you, making his way down the stairs as he prepares to head out. he's so focused that he almost misses the sight of you seemingly casually sitting at the bar, nursing a drink in your hands whilst exchanging low murmurs with husk.
he freezes momentarily, taking a deep breath. while he mentally debates with himself whether to approach you or not, husk notices him hesitating on the staircase. he catches angel's gaze, giving him a subtle nod. that's all the affirmation angel needs.
he slides on his usual relaxed demeanour, though it's a little weaker than normal, as he approaches you. he's admittedly a little nervous, but he's determined to work things out with you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to catch your attention. "hey, darlin'. can i talk to you for a minute?"
the two of you head back to your room, where heartfelt apologies are exchanged and a long overdue conversation takes place. at some point during the talk, his hand had found its way on top of yours, thumb brushing over your skin gently. at the end of it all, he gives you a small, content smile. "...baby, you have no idea just how much i adore you." he whispers into the quiet, running his fingers through your hair comfortingly as your head rests on his shoulder.
it was an unspoken agreement that tonight was going to be a sleepover night. prepare for lots of cuddling and gentle, soft kisses.
♡ vox
he's the type to go "ha, see if i care!" when you leave, but he'll still check on you occasionally through the various cameras and electronics around the city — he swears it's just because he's making sure the new limited edition voxtek product he had given to you isn't damaged.
(...it's totally because he's looking out for you, by the way. even if it's only a little. you are his darling, after all. and uh, you'll never know what happened to that guy who tried to hit on you that one time).
(vox made sure not even a trace of that bastard remained).
his obnoxious pride makes him reluctant to reach out first. that, and he's a petty little shit. so everyone around him, whether that be the other vees or his employees, is stuck dealing with his foul mood. he's become even more irritable and susceptible to lashing out than usual since you left.
he'd rather die than admit it, but you were a calming presence in his life that he hadn't realised he needed until you were gone. he hates just how much power you have over him, though you may or may not realise it. he's supposed to be the one in charge. when did you manage to sneak into his heart? his mind is occupied with thoughts of you.
and it only frustrates him more, because you're not here.
all his employees are left on edge, even more so when he takes his anger out on some poor soul who had gotten the numbers wrong on the report they handed in. "clean this mess up." vox snaps, glowering as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves. the demon at the door hurriedly moves to do as he says, not wanting to risk meeting the same fate.
"what? what are you looking at?" he turns, eyes narrowing at the rest of the employees who flinch, hastily turning their eyes back to the screens in front of them. "get back to work." he mutters sharply, an unspoken threat in his words.
his volatile temperament goes on for a while, until velvette decides she's finally had enough and sends you a (not so) polite text to resolve your little lover's spat before she takes matters into her own hands.
meanwhile, vox is in his office. nothing seems to be going his way, and he's just about to blow another fuse when you nonchalantly throw open the doors, inviting yourself in. he freezes, staring at you for a few moments. you raise a brow. "...so. i heard you were throwing another hissy fit."
vox scowls at that, grumbling under his breath. "oh yeah? and what'd you come back for, you prissy little princess?" he sneers, clawed fingers digging into the desk with a quiet screech. "couldn't go without me for long, huh?"
"ha. you wish that was the case." you scoff, rolling your eyes with a half-amused, irked smile curling at your lips. things escalate into another argument pretty quickly, with the two of you at each other's throats. he towers over you, eyes narrowing as his grin widens in mild irritation.
it's a back and forth for quite some time, until you get sick of it and grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer until you're glaring at one another face to face. "what the fuck do you think you're—" he starts, but he's quickly cut off when your lips crash into his. vox is stunned for a few moments but soon snaps out of it, swiftly returning your kiss with equal, if not more, ferocity and intensity.
"finally got you to shut up." you murmur, grinning as you part to catch your breath and release his shirt from your grasp. before you can pull back completely, however, his hand reaches up to rest against the back of your neck, the other firmly on your waist. it takes another long, drawn-out kiss for him to finally let you go — though not really, since he's still holding you close in his arms.
"...that was hot." he whispers breathlessly, staring down at you with a somewhat satisfied glint in his eyes. but you both know that there's more to come.
suffice to say, the two of you sorted things out.
♡ lucifer
he would regret everything almost instantly. lucifer realises just how badly he fucked up when you leave without looking back. he's not even quite sure what happened as he stands alone in the room, blinking as he's left to process everything on his own. his mind is a jumbled mess, and he can't think clearly.
all he can feel is a suffocating rush of fear as he snaps out of his daze and hurries after you, desperate to find you before you're gone. he doesn't want to take his chances. what if you don't come back? what if—
he had said things that he didn't mean, and now the weight of it all feels crushing on his shoulders. he's torn between wanting to reach out to apologise and giving you time to cool down. he doesn't want to be a bother, but also really wants to make things up to you.
most of all, he just wants reassurance that you'll come back to him and that he hasn't messed things up for good. he doesn't want to lose you. you're too precious to him for that, and he's mentally kicking himself for ever making you question your importance to him for even a second.
thankfully, you haven't gone too far so he's able to catch up to you, taking a hold of your wrist firmly. however, when you turn to look at him, he falters, the words dying in his throat. he swallows, softly clearing his throat as he scrambles to say something, anything to stop you from leaving. to reaffirm his love for you.
"...sweetheart, i'm so sorry," he whispers, expression twisted and heart heavy with remorse and sorrow as he brings you close, grip subconsciously tightening because he's afraid to let you go. "i'll do anything, i'll make it up to you, i—" he trails off, burying his face into your shoulder, "just, please... don't leave. i'm sorry."
you really can't stay mad at him for too long after seeing his genuine sincerity. he acknowledges his wrongs, wanting nothing more than to make up for his mistakes and make you feel as appreciated and cared for as you've made him feel over the course of you two knowing each other. you sigh gently, thumb lightly brushing over his cheek. "...alright, silly. let's go home."
his eyes light up at that, and he's reminded of just how grateful he is to have you here by his side as you guys make your way home together. he holds your hand the entire time.
after the two of you make up, you find that he'll leave little gifts and cute trinkets around for you despite your gentle assurances that he doesn't have to. he also gives you lots of forehead kisses. he just wants to make sure you never forget how much he loves you, and that you mean the world to him.
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© dearaceofhearts ー all rights reserved. please do not steal, use or modify my works!
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mingtinys · 2 months
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" i will never be too mad to take care of you "
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pairing : yoon jeonghan x gn!reader
"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"
warnings : language , descriptions of a wound , blood
word count : 0.5 k
a/n : last minute i actually decided to flip jeonghan's and joshua's prompt , we'll see if i regret it
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Your eyes follow Jeonghan carefully, tracking his movements throughout the kitchen. Waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn't, he simply continues to mull about his business. Completely ignoring your presence and the tension that hangs heavily in the air as a result of your recent argument.
It wasn't the biggest fight you've ever had, but it was surely up there. In the heat of it, you said some things you didn't mean, things that seemed to hit Jeonghan in just the right spot to set him off. You felt bad at first. The moment tears began to gather in his eyes and his face dropped you felt the urge to apologize. But then he opened his mouth and shot some choice words back at you in a way that hit just as hard. All thoughts of talking it out ceased then and there, and so ensued the ongoing silence between you two.
Even just his lingering presence as you try to prepare dinner has you on edge. So much so, that you focus all your attention on what he's doing and what he could be thinking rather than the onion you're chopping up. With your mind split, it only takes a few seconds before you feel the knife slice into your hand. It clatters to the ground as you cry out and cradle your injured hand.
"Ah– shit!"
Jeonghan is at your side in half a second, maybe less. Reaching out to take hold of your hand so he can examine it. "What happened?" His voice is urgent, but his grip is gentle as he hovers over the bleeding wound.
"Ow– I'm fine, it's fine—"
"No, you're not. Just take a seat, I'll be back in a second." He's gone and back in under a minute, the first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom tucked under his arm. You sit in the nearest chair and Jeonghan kneels in front, delicately taking your hand into his palm.
It stays silent as he cleans around the cut and begins to tenderly wrap the fluffy white gauze around your hand. "It looks pretty deep. I think it'd be best if we go to the emergency room and have it looked at, I can drive."
"Why?" The word slips out before you can stop it.
Jeonghan gives you a funny look. "Um, because you might need stitches?"
"No. I meant why do you care?" Tears brim at your lashes and you can feel the tidal wave of pent-up emotions ready to crash down. "I said some really awful things. You should be mad right now, not helping me—"
"Woah woah woah, hey," He soothes. His palm softly cups your face while the other rests on your knee, squeezing it. "I will never be too mad to take care of you." The sincerity in his sparkling gaze never falters.
"I'm really sorry, Jeonghan. I promise I didn't mean what I said."
"I know," he smiles, rising to his feet to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. "I'm sorry as well. We can talk about it once you're better."
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kissforyouu · 2 months
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forgive me now?
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pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc
genre : fluff , slight angst
warnings : arguing , mentions of sexual activities
a/n : FINALLY an update. 😓😓 unedited btw
this is a continuation from my previous text au btw!
you stand awkwardly in your friend's yard, clutching onto your little pink suitcase. your boyfriend said he would pick you up and that there was no need for you to call a cab home. usually, this would've been fine. much much much better than the cab even. but not now. the small argument you had with jungkook last night would definitely make things a little awkward between you guys. it was always like that. silent treatment until one of you gets impatient. that's usually jungkook. and it will be jungkook this time as well.
you kick some rocks on the ground while mina tells you and jihyo about some video games she's been playing. you mindlessly nod, not paying any attention to what she's really saying. you feel bad, but you're just not in the mood right now.
all you could think about was the argument. you were aware from the beginning about how overprotective jungkook actually was. you didn't mind it. not one bit. in addition to that, you always felt an underlying effect from whatever he did. it was arousing to say the least. but anyway. he called you a bitch. much worse, noh? how could he.
your eyes dart to the direction of the horn of the car you're so familiar with, emitting a soft sigh along the way. jungkook pulls up in his mercedes benz sl 63 amg, rolling down those expensive ass windows to look at you. he gets out of the car and tries to make an effort to carry your luggage but you don't let him, giving him the cold shoulder. jungkook grits his teeth, eyes scanning your figure up and down as you set your luggage in the back of his car then hug your girls goodbye.
once you were done with your goodbyes and back in front of his car, he tries to open the door for you but you ignore him once again, proceeding to open the backseat's door. you never did that. you were always his passenger princess. always.
the thought that he may have actually fucked up clouds your boyfriend's mind. jungkook closes the door with a thud, clearly frustrated. your friends weren't a helping hand either. instead, they were giving him mean glares. they never liked jungkook much. i mean, to a certain extent they did. but it wasn't enough.
the tall man sighs, his upper body fully turned to face you in the backseat. you weren't paying him any attention and instead, face buried in your phone when it should be in between his pecs, giving him the fattest hug ever while saying you missed him. but nah. eh, he really did fuck up.
jungkook glances at your friends a last time, the scowl on their faces never leaving. he scoffs, starting the engine of the car and beginning to drive out of your friends' sight.
jungkook looks at your reflection through the mirror, while doing that thing again. poking his cheek with his tongue. hot. you try your best not to look.
"you're so dramatic. talk to me."
suddenly, you break out of your stoic expression, jaw opening a little as you stared at your boyfriend in disbelief.
"me? jungkook, look at yourself! you said you would track down my phone to find my location if i didn't answer!"
"and you know damn well i would."
"i— well, that isn't the point here! the point is—"
"honey, we're past that, don't you think? just forget it." he grunts, completely discarding my opinion.
"no. calling me a bitch was too far. you don't get to disrespect me like that. who do you think you are?"
jungkook pauses for a few seconds, taking his time to think of what to reply with. he got silenced, for sure. then he sighs again, opening his mouth to speak again. no. ugh, fuck. you hate when he's like this. why is he acting like he's...tolerating you?
"get on the front." jungkook clicks his tongue, patting the empty passenger seat.
you so clearly refuse, stomping your heal on the carpet of the car as a sign of rejection. jungkook doesn't have any of that, immediately parking the car on the edge of the road. he gets out of his car and walks to the other side of the car, now in front of you. jungkook opens your door and pats his thigh—another signal for you to get on the front. you refuse again though, looking somewhere else.
"brat." he mumbles under his breathe. your boyfriend grabs your arm and pulls your body upwards. you wince a little, finding his touch a little too harsh.
"wait, shit, sorry." his thumb lightly brushes over the spot where he grabbed you gently, then sweetly giving it a few kisses after.
"get on the front seat, baby." his tone was sweet this time, like honey. he was speaking to you as if you were a flower who could get destroyed even from the slightest breeze.
and you just couldn't refuse. you listen to him this time instead of being whatever he calls you, a "brat". you sit on the passenger seat, crossing your legs over one another. but you still weren't looking at him. attitude much, huh?
jungkook groans at your behaviour. he loved it though. found it rather hot although sometimes it was a little too hard to deal with.
he suddenly grabs your jaw, his touch gentle but strong, tightly gripping your face but enough to not hurt you. he has your face turned to his side, forcing you to look at him.
"look at me at least."
you stay silent. your eyes drop down to his lap, legs spread and meaty thighs flexing.
"y/n."
one small look at his face, you break down to a whine. you pucker your lips into a pout, squeezing your eyes shut in irritation.
"i'm really sorry, my love. i admit that it was very wrong and inappropriate of me. i won't say that again, hm? i'll do whatever you want. just please talk to me."
"apologising isn't going to work."
"fine. i'll take you anywhere, buy whatever you want. hell, i'd buy you the entire world, you know that?"
your lips tremble and you grunt, "stop thinking that buying me everything would fix every single problem! it won't! why are you so good at finding solutions for every single problem that includes everything BUT yourself?! it's so frustrating, jungkook! yesterday, you could've literally just called me!—"
"you didn't answer! i called you so many fucking times, noh? did you answer once? nah."
"THAT doesn't matter! it was just...like, one day, jungkook!"
"yeah, and? who knows what would've happened? i was thinking of every single possibility. did you get killed or something? had me fucking stressing for nothing." jungkook rolls his eyes, rubbing his temple.
"it was for just one day! calm down!"
"no! didn't even tell me where the fuck you were going. had to drive upto your fucking house to find out."
you pause for a second, taking a deep breath, gritting your teeth, "jungkook. stop swearing at me."
jungkook scoffs, accepting it either way with a nod.
"let's stop arguing. hate fighting with you, y'know? let's go home, y/n. this is stupid."
"you're stupid!" you fight back.
"stop acting like a kid, damn. i said sorry. we're going home."
jungkook doesn't let you continue as he turns around and sits comfortably on his seat again, eyes facing the front.
"your house or my house?"
"your house." your voice came out in a small squeek.
a few minutes pass by, jungkook managed to sneak his hand up your thigh to grope the flesh. you let him. it was one of his silly habits. each time you're in the car with him, jungkook would either hold your hand or grope your thighs. and when you questioned it, he'd say "for emotional support." what emotional support? you always found it funny. but cute though. sometimes, he'd get sneaky and slowly slide his hand downwards, little by little, and end up cupping your pussy. that itself was enough to make you go crazy. he'd start by slowly rubbing your clit through your panties, then sneakily make his way inside :) .
by now, you both had reached his house. jungkook parked his car in his garage and entered his room, who was laying on his comfy ass bed that was big enough for 5 people.
he lays down with you, big arms engulfing your smaller body. you let him, you're past the argument now. jungkook snuggles into your body, cheek smushed against your breast. his body temperature was hot, warming you up instantly.
"we good now?"
"mhm."
"talk more, baby. i want to hear you. what did you do yesterday? ate well?"
your face melts down at your boyfriend's words. cute man. cuuuuteeee. myy man. how could you ever hate him? :< . you spent the rest of the cuddling and jungkook trying to make it upto you. he gave you foot massages, back massages, made you food, watched your favourite show with you (which you've made him rewatch about 10 times already), ate you out good, ran you a bath, another foot massage, online shopped with you which resulted in him buying you goodies worth 500$ and more, head massage, fucked you good, rubbed your body to sleep and so on 😊.
maybe arguing isn't THAT bad after all.
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taglist :
@fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt @kooreo @rrosiitas @goldenjeonkoo
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gojoux · 10 months
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『 𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊? 』
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· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader
· Summary: Five times he confesses his feelings and one time you say it back.
· CW: 10.7k (I can explain...) // Fluff. Angst. Classic 5+1 trope that I absolutely adore. Reader have trust issues. Just Gojo being whipped for you. Geto being his wingman. Slight jealousy. Heartbroken Gojo. Argument (he did/said something bad but it's not described so it's up to your imagination).
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“I like you.”
Gojo confessed proudly with a wide grin adorning his face as he looked down at you. His hands are inside his pocket as he stands in front of your desk.
You look up at him in confusion, “What?”
He looked down at you and tilted his head slightly. “I said, I like you.” His words were direct and his gaze was firm. His hair shifted in the breeze from the opened window.
“Oh...” You can't even find a word to describe your feelings to him, and you're pretty sure it's the first time he confessed his feelings to someone, let alone romantically, and to you. “I, uh, thank you.” You smile awkwardly at him.
His gaze was intense despite his wide smile, like he had a laser focusing on you. “Thank me for accepting my feelings. Let me take you out sometime.” His words were casual as if it wasn't a big deal to confess to you.
He takes a hand out of his pocket to push back his hair. “Do you have someone you like, though?” 
You think for a bit before answering, “I don't think so...” You answer, quite unsurely. “At least, not at the moment.” You give him a small smile at the end.
He hummed in response. “Hmm...” His eyes shifted as he pondered your words. “Does that mean I have the opportunity to win your affection?” He asked as his smile widened. His tone and expression seemed both confident and playful at this moment.
“Well...” Before you could reply to his words, you heard a small snicker on the side. It's Geto watching his best friend confess to you.
Then, you realized, “Are you playing truth or dare?” You ask with a raised brow, your eyes shifting from Gojo to Geto and then back to Gojo again.
His cheeks turn slightly red from your question. He glances at Geto and shrugs. “Maybe it's truth and dare,” he answers sheepishly.
“Would your answer change if it was just truth?” He follows up with a smile. Geto's smirk grows wider as he watches you two. He seemed oddly entertained by Gojo's flirtatiousness.
You rest your back against the chair. “Since you're expressing your feeling because of a game, especially because of a dare, I'd say no.” You look up to him with a somewhat apologetic smile.
Gojo's smile faded from his face as it became clear his attempt to confess had failed. He glanced between you and Geto, who was still smiling at him on the side.
“Suguru...” Gojo hissed quietly. “What?” Geto whispered back with a slight chuckle. Gojo sighed with frustration. “Forget it,” he muttered.
He glanced back at you as he scratched the back of his head. “Sorry if it felt like I was playing with your feelings.”
“No problem.” You shrug casually to dismiss the matter. He walks back to sit in front of Geto, probably continuing to play truth or dare.
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The second time he told you he liked you was a week later. You feel him sitting down next to you on the stairs and handing you a drink from the vending machine.
“Thank you.” You answer as you accept the canned drink from his hand. “You're welcome,” he replied. He looked a little tired after his training.
He was silent for a few moments after handing you the drink. His eyes shifted as he looked at you, and then out at the view.  
“Did you know that the sunset has both yellow and orange lights?” He asked you suddenly. His tone was casual but it seemed like he had wanted to tell you something.
The vending machine was on a small landing of stairs, and they faced the view of the sunset. 
“Very beautiful, isn't it?” Your eyes are glued to the view. Gojo followed your gaze. His eyes scanned the scene in front of you, at the horizon of the view and the way the light filtered into the sky.
“Yeah.” His words were slightly distracted. His eyes were not focused on the beautiful sunset, but on the person next to him. “It is. I think sunsets are always beautiful.” 
For some reason, he felt almost compelled to hold your hand. He thought it could be considered a bit too intimate when you're not even together in the first place, but he still wondered if he should do it.
“I enjoy a nice view." He adds, trying to distract himself from these feelings. “Me, too.” You nod in agreement.
His hands clenched into fists. “Mmm.” For whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to hold your hand and make the first move. 
Gojo's eyes followed the movement of the birds and clouds. He seemed content to let you enjoy the moment in peace, but at the same time, he was eager to start talking again.
“I like you,“ he said after a few moments. “Do you understand what I mean by that?” His tone was slightly more serious now.
“Is this another dare?” You ask back with a chuckle as you finally turn your head to look at him beside you.
His eyes met yours, and he didn't crack a smile as your response. “No, this time it's the truth,” he said, sounding slightly embarrassed, and his cheeks turned slightly red. “I'm just trying to tell you how I feel...”
Gojo was not used to confession. He glanced back at the sunset, trying to escape from the situation.
“I like you, too.” You replied with a smile. “You're a great friend.” You take a sip of your canned drink before looking back at the sunset again.
The words ‘friend’ crushed his soul for a few seconds. He thought he was doing better than the previous time. Gojo swallowed the lump in his throat.
His gaze shifted between you and the ground. “...Right,” he finally said.
A tense silence hung between you as you both let the sunset wash over your faces. Gojo thought hard about his words. His eyes gave nothing away but his face betrayed some uncertainty.
“I was hoping we would become more than just friends, though.” He speaks up after a minute of silence.
“Best friends?” You offer. “It will be nice to be your best friend, and I could be your other one besides Geto.” You chuckle, trying to brush off this tingly feeling inside you.
“Best friends...” He repeated the words as if he didn't want to admit that this wasn't what he hoped for. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with these feelings of his not being reciprocated.
“Hey, can I tell you something?” He asked after a few moments of silence. He wanted to share how he felt, even if it wasn't going to go anywhere.
“Sure.” You look at him, waiting for him to speak.
He took a breath and let the words flow freely. “You really are someone I care about, and not just as a friend.” He paused, trying to think of the right words. “I just wanted you to know that... that you mean a lot to me.” A small sincere smile came to his face.
Gojo wasn't used to sharing his feelings quite so openly. He looked down at his hands, which were still clenched into fists.
You stay quiet and then smile at his words. “Aww, thank you.” You can't help but appreciate his efforts to express his feelings since he's not one to do so.
A small grin crossed Gojo's face. He sighed, the tension he felt dissipating a bit. “No problem. And I'm not just saying that either,” he added. “It's the truth. You're a really great person.“
His gaze shifted forward again, watching the clouds move. “Thanks for listening, (Y/N).” He seemed a bit more relieved with that exchange. “It was nice to get that off my chest.”
You smile at his words, glad that he's comfortable enough around you to tell his feelings. Not long after, you get up from your seat and he looks up at you standing up. “I'll be heading back to the dorm.”
“Oh? You're leaving already?” He asks. “Don't you want to enjoy the rest of the sunset?” He pointed out.
The sun was starting to go down, the sky filling with a beautiful orange hue. “If you leave now, you'll miss the best part.”
“I'm getting sleepy, my eyes are heavy.” His eyebrows raised slightly as you were ready to leave. He pushed himself back up, ready to follow you, but he hesitated.
Should he hold your hand like he wanted to? He had confessed to you, but this wasn't a romantic moment anymore. What if he made you uncomfortable? Gojo thought for a few moments, before making his decision.
He reached forward and took your hand, gripping it softly. “I'll head back with you,” he said to you with a small smile on his face.
You were stunned by the feeling of his hand holding yours. He's so warm, and the tingly feeling inside you spreads even more. 
“I can go on my own, you know.” You make no effort to pull your hand away from him. His expression shifted to bashful at your words. “I know. But...” 
He took a deep breath. “I wanted to go with you,” he told you. He gripped your hand a bit tighter as he looked down at it. “Is that okay with you? Or should I let go?”
“No.” You shake your head, not realizing you're squeezing his hand. “It's okay.”
Gojo's chest felt lighter when you said it was okay for him to keep holding your hand. He squeezed your hand back in response.
You both started to walk towards the dorm, his fingers intertwined with yours. It was such a simple action, but it felt so meaningful. He takes a moment to appreciate this gesture, his head turned to see the sunset once more before looking at you again.
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In more than three weeks of knowing each other better, Gojo has grown more attached to you. And you can't say that you don't feel the same.
You were now indeed best friends. His feelings for you keep growing, and your feelings also bloom for him. But you tried your hardest to not let that show.
He seemed to have become more confident when it came to expressing his affection for you. But he still didn't seem to have much confidence when it came to flirting or romance, though.
His feelings for you grew with every smile and laugh shared between you both, and he was getting impatient. Every day, he wanted to ask you out, but he wanted to wait for the right moment. He wanted your first date to be perfect.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” He asked you, his eyes lingering on his phone.
“Yeah?” You respond. “Will you go to the cinema with me?” He asks to the point. He put his phone inside his pocket and stood up from his seat.
“Come on.” Without waiting for your answer, he took your hand and led you out of the school building. “There's a movie coming out that I really want to see.” His eyes were sparkling with excitement.
“Whoa, whoa, now?” You ask as you let him drag you away.
“Yeah, why not?” He looks at you confused. He seemed to just expect you to go with him, not even questioning his abrupt proposition. He didn't seem to consider the possible answer could be ‘no’.
Geto who was minding his own business watched the two of you leave with a small smirk. “Oh, you two are finally going out?” He teased. “Yeah! See you later, Suguru!” Gojo's voice fades away after he exits the classroom.
“Why not ask Geto?” You ask him a bit breathless from the long walk and wait for an assistant manager to drive you to your destination. 
“You think I want him to watch us go on a date?” He looked at you with a chuckle. “I just... wanted it to be the two of us,” he explained quietly.
“This is a date?” You ask confused. “We're not dating, though?”
He looks slightly flustered by your words. “Well, that's what I'm hoping to change.” He mumbles to himself. “To be honest, I just wanted to spend time with you.” His tone is still quiet but a little sheepish. 
“Mmm...” You only nod at him.
The assistant manager arrives to drive you to the cinema. He's surprisingly quiet the entire ride, choosing to look outside of the window instead, and he seemed content that way. But he's seated close to you, and his hand itched to hold yours the entire time.
Once you both arrive, he opens the car door for you and gives a nod to thank the assistant manager for taking the two of you there.
The car drives off, and Gojo grabs your hand once more, not wanting to let go as you both enter the mall. You walk side by side, holding hands, and still in your uniform.
“You haven't told me what you want to watch yet?” You ask as you let him lead you toward the cinema.
He grins at you. “I want to watch the newest romantic comedy. You know, the one with the super attractive actors?” He leans in a little closer as he speaks. His hold on your hand becomes slightly tighter. 
“Oh? I didn't expect you to be excited over romantic movies.” You grin playfully at him. Your heart is beating fast from the way he holds your hand.
He chuckles in response. “Oh, I enjoy them. I find them very amusing.” He looks at you with a teasing smile. “Maybe I just like looking at pretty girls in love.”
He glances around the mall but doesn't let go of your hand as the two of you continue walking. His eyes flicker back to you every now and then.
“Pretty girls in love?” You ask again with another chuckle as you shake your head. He nods at your question. “I certainly do,” he answers. “But I feel like you already know that.”
He then looks at you with a slight grin. You feel a subtle tug on the back of your arm as he pulls you closer. “I'd say you're the most beautiful one I know,” he confesses in a soft tone. “So I like looking at you.”
You can feel your heart skip a beat and your face heats up at his words. “What a flirt.” You mumble under your breath.
Gojo chuckles again at your response. "Yeah, yeah. I think I did better than last time." He gives you a wink as you both reach the cinema.
He lets go of your hand for a moment to buy tickets for the two of you, before taking your hand once more as he guides you into the studio where you’re going to be watching the movie.
“When is the movie starting?” You look at him. “The movie?” He seems to be zoning out as he walks with you. “What else?” You ask back. “Oh, I think there's still about 30 minutes before it starts.” He then snaps back to attention. “I mean,” he adds with a chuckle. “Does that mean we have time to grab a snack?”
He pauses as he sees a concession stand in front of you. “There's even cute girls working here.” The last part of the sentence was muttered under his breath.
“Cute girls?” You repeat to yourself quietly, your gaze following him, before shaking your head, letting go of his hand, and walking towards the counter to order some snacks.
Gojo doesn't seem to take too kindly to the fact that you've let go of his hand. He frowns slightly. “Wait, what are you doing?” He glances back down at you with slightly parted lips and wide, questioning eyes. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly. “I was hoping we could hold hands...” he utters quietly, glancing down at your hand.
“You want to hold my hand while you flirt with the cute worker? No thanks.” You say as you wait in line. You try to ignore the jealous feeling in your heart and play it cool.
His expression is blank when he thinks about what you've just said. “Why would you assume I'm going to flirt with the girl at the stand?” he asks you. He glances at the girls working at the concession stand, and back at you. “They just look cute, that's all.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“We were holding hands a while ago,” He reminds you, a slightly hurt look in his eyes, but he quickly shakes it off.
Then his eyebrows raise slightly and he looks at you with a teasing expression. “Oh, are you jealous?” The two girls working behind the counter exchange a look and share a slight chuckle, clearly having overheard your conversation.
“Why should I be jealous? You're not my boyfriend.” You stuck your tongue out playfully at him.
Gojo's smile fades for a while at your words. He lets out a sigh of irritation, “I wish I was,” he utters quietly. He quickly covers it up again with his usual attitude. “But I could be,” he replies in a teasing tone. In response to your gesture, he makes a face and sticks his tongue out at you.
“Ha, you wished.” You brush him off.
Gojo keeps a smirk on his face, but he's secretly hurt by your words. “Well, if my wish was true, I would make you my girlfriend today,” he utters quietly.
“What are you going to get?” He averts the topic, his voice is slightly quieter than usual and not as playful.
“Package C.” You point out the big screen on the top. He looks at where you’re pointing and nods. The concession stand is busy, and more customers have joined the line behind you.
“I'll just order for the both of us.” He seems annoyed but still keeps a faint smile on his face. You look at him in confusion, stunned by his change of attitude.
Without you realizing it, Gojo has taken a soft spot for you, and he wears his emotions on his sleeves from how comfortable he is around you.
You see that his eyes narrow and you can tell he feels hurt from your words earlier. But that’s your assumption, you don’t want to think too much about it. He steps to the counter himself, and asks the girl working behind it, “Two Package C's, please.”
You both moved to the side after he was done ordering, waiting for your name to be called to pick up your orders.
He leans against the wall with his arms crossed. The two of you quietly wait for your orders as the movie's start time draws closer. He takes a few more glares at you, before sighing. “I think I might have been too harsh,” he mumbles to himself.
His eyes are focused on the counter and you can tell he's still thinking hard about your words. He’s just jealous and hurt, that’s all.
He glances at you in silence until his name is called to pick up the order. “Let's go sit somewhere before the movie starts.” He takes them from the girl behind the counter, he's still upset by how distant he sounds.
“What's wrong?” You finally break the silence once you both find a nearby seat to wait. You can see Gojo's jaw tighten slightly as soon as you speak. He's still struggling with his thoughts.
After a few more seconds, he sighs and gives you a tight grin. “Nothing's wrong,” he answers with a shake of his head. He doesn't seem like his usual, carefree self, but he tries to hide it by maintaining the smile. He’s still bothered by what you said.
“Well, I think something is wrong.” You shift your body slightly to the side to face him. He stares at you in silence for a while. He looks conflicted for a moment as if trying to decide whether he should tell you the truth or keep it to himself.
“I... am a bit upset,” he finally admits after a long pause. He still doesn't give you an explanation, but you can tell that he wants to tell you something important.
“Because...?” You urge him to continue.
“Because of what you said... about not being your boyfriend.” He admits quietly with a hint of sadness in his voice. He takes a deep breath and crosses his arms across his chest after putting the food package to the side. He looks at you with a conflicted gaze, like he wants to say something else.
“But it’s true, right? You’re not.” His eyes narrow at your words. You can see the sadness and disappointment on his face.
“Because I want to be your boyfriend.” Gojo's words seem to surprise you as they surprise him himself. He seems a little embarrassed as he looks back at you, his head tilted in your direction.
“Listen,” he paused for a bit. “I like you, alright?” His eyes flick to you for a split second before looking down at the floor again. “I really do.” His tone is softer, but his words seem firm and honest. He takes a breath, his expression softening slightly.
“I want to be more than just friends with you,” he answers softly. The look on his face seems to beg for confirmation. He wants to know if you feel the same way.
Your breath hitched at his confession. You know that he likes you, but you’re still unsure if he’s actually genuine and able to commit to you or not.
You do trust him as your friend and ally, but you’re still unsure if you could trust your heart to him. And you feel awful for always leaving him hanging from your ambiguous response.
Deep inside, you want to be with him. You just want to be selfish for a while longer, and you promise yourself to make it up to him after you made up your mind.
Fortunately for you in this situation, the studio door is now open, a sign for everyone to start entering. 
“Let's just enjoy the movie for now, okay?” You stand up from your seat.
He frowns, trying not to show his disappointment at you dodging the question. “Of course,” he answers quietly, following your lead and standing up to enter the cinema.
The two of you sit down and start watching the movie, and the mood seems to soften a bit. He's back to his relaxed and playful self as he enjoys the movie.
You notice that his hand is slowly creeping closer to yours. He's still staring intently at the movie but makes no attempt to move his hand away. The tension from the conversation seems to have lifted, making the atmosphere more lighthearted again.
You hear a soft sigh and see him glance at you for a quick moment. He gives you a small smile, before focusing his attention back on the movie.
A few minutes later, his hand rests on top of yours. He focuses on the movie and smiles at some of the scenes. The two of you don't say anything for a while, but Gojo continues to smile as you both enjoy the movie.
“What are you doing?” You try to sound unbothered as you can while sipping your drink.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” He glances at you then turns away quickly, acting as if he's not doing anything, but he keeps his hand on top of yours.
His gaze is focused on the screen, but he's being playfully cheeky with his response. “If you want, I can give you a head pat, too. I hear it's all the rage.” His tone is slightly teasing in response.
“Does my touch bother you?” He adds quietly.
You shake your head before saying, “No,” secretly enjoying the closeness.
He smiles and gives you a light squeeze with his hand. His eyes are still focused on the movie, but from time to time he glances down at your hands. From the way he smiles, you can tell he's enjoying this moment just as much as you.
The joy is clear on Gojo's face as he watches the movie. He's giggling and laughing at all the right places and even nudges you at some points to share his laughter while keeping his hand on top of yours for most of the movie.
He leans in a little closer as the credits start to roll. “Hey.” He leans in a little closer as if he's about to whisper something into your ear.
“Yes?” You tried to guess what he could have possibly said with your heart beating faster.
His eyes are focused on your face, and he doesn't seem to be distracted by the credits or people leaving the cinema around you.
“I really enjoyed today,” he says rather quietly. His smile seems genuine and he gives you a small nod. “I like being with you,” he continues. “Can we do it again sometime?”
You let a smile escape your lips, “Of course.” You nod. “Thank you for taking me here today.”
“No problem,” he answers with a grin. He pulls his hand away slightly and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This was fun.”
As the credits continue to roll, the lights dim again. You can hear people start to talk and slowly leave the cinema. “Do you wanna stay here a little longer?”
You lean back in your seat, looking at the credit scene with the music in the background. “Maybe a bit more.”
He smiles and leans against the back of his seat as well. He rests his head on your shoulder ever so slightly as you both look at the credits. 
You try to keep your body relaxed when you feel his cheek on your shoulder. But the atmosphere is surprisingly comfortable, you like it.
“Do you have plans afterward?” He asks. “I was thinking that maybe we could go out for some ramen.” A faint blush spreads across his face. He looks at you expectantly, the credits still rolling in the background.
“Do you know a place for any ramen shops you recommend?” 
“Actually, I know a ramen shop pretty close to Jujutsu High," he answers. “It's a small, local family business. It's a personal favorite of mine.”
He smiles brightly and grabs your hand again. “Come on, I'll take you there.” His tone is cheerful as he sits straight again.
“You don't mind if I hold your hand, do you?”
“Why would you want to hold my hand, though?” 
His grin falters slightly and he gives you a sidelong glance. “Because I like holding your hand,” he answers simply. He squeezes your hand slightly, his thumb gently brushing against your palm.
You already know that he's the type to go into people's personal spaces— those he considers as friends though— and he's very touchy as well. 
Circling an arm behind Shoko's chair and sometimes he ends up putting his hand on her shoulder, resting his weight on Geto while they talk, and he seems to enjoy touching your hand.
And you can't lie to yourself and say you don't like it.
Your day continues with him taking you to his recommended ramen shop and treating your meals until you're satisfied, because that's what he's intended to do.
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The fourth time Gojo confessed his feelings was not long after your cinema hangout, or what he would call it a date instead.
His confession is rather different this time.
There are constant texts from Gojo on your phone, but his messages are never dull. They're filled with poems, flirty memes, and even his own original drawings and photos.
He sends you love poems, quotes with romantic context, and even pictures of landscapes that he found interesting.
He even sends you a few poems by Shikibu Izumi and Ono no Komachi, a few of the most famous poets of the Heian period.
You're not even surprised to receive these messages anymore. In fact, it's expected and makes you smile each time. Gojo is just being Gojo. And Gojo likes you, a lot.
He would send you texts out of nowhere regarding time and places like,
“I just want to hold your hand,” followed by a long message of poetry.
“Your beauty makes me weak.”
“You're everything I've ever wanted.”
“I've been thinking about you all day.”
“Every day, just seeing your face is enough to make me feel so happy.”
“I just want to be yours, forever and always.”
Or sometimes like, 
“Did you know the moon and sun both revolve around each other? Just like how we do, because we were meant to be together.”
And even more random text like,
“The day is beautiful, just like you.”
“Do you know what my favorite part of the day is? It’s seeing your beautiful face in the morning, of course.”
“Do you know what my favorite thing to do together is? It’s playing Momotaro Dentetsu together, just you and me.”
“Do you know the best thing about you? You always have such a contagious smile, my lovely one.”
Every text he sends you always makes your heart soar with happiness. It makes you smile wide in public and squeal to yourself in your room.
He keeps blowing on the wind that makes your heart fly so high. You just hope that he won't stop blowing the wind when your heart reaches up high so you won't crash and fall to get it shattered to pieces. 
There is no way you could ignore his sweet text like that, can you?
You would always reply back with some emojis or compliments, sometimes you would share a few videos and pictures. That's enough to keep him going, and he keeps getting bolder with his words.
When you're busy with your school assignment and could only reply with one text such as,
“You're so sweet. Thank you.”
He would reply with more text,
“What? I'm just being honest, my love. I'm not even close to being sweet enough for you.”
“What are you doing right now? I hope you're having a good day, you deserve it.”
He always grins when he waits for your reply, or at least until you read his text. His fingers always tingle when he texts you. He still can't believe that you haven't turned him down.
It's always making your heart race when he calls you pet names, and you're not even dating. He's just so comfortable using them on you.
On one fine day, you were eating lunch with Shoko while you told her about Gojo. She sits across from you, listening to you talk. She takes bites of her food as she listens to your stories.
You tell him about Gojo's constant flirting and how he's been sending you poems and love quotes. You mention that he also asked you out to get some food together.
“He really likes you, you know that right?” Shoko asks you matter-of-factly. From her expression, it doesn't seem as if she's surprised by the news. “It's starting to sound like you have a crush on Gojo,” she teases lightly.
You let out a loud sigh. “Because I do...” You mumble.
“So you still haven't officially started dating?” She looks over at you with a skeptical expression. “Why's that?”
“He's so blatantly flirting with you and you're so obviously into him. What's keeping you two from becoming a couple?” She tilts her head in curiosity.
“He's very popular among the girls, why would he pursue me out of all people?” You let out another sigh. “I'm just... afraid of getting my feelings hurt.” You admit before taking another bite of your food.
Shoko leans back in her chair. “He's so fond of you, it's obvious. The way he keeps texting you, the things he says. It's almost like he's head over heels.”
“What I'm trying to say is...” She pauses, looking for the right words to say. “I see how he looks at you. If he didn't have a genuine thing for you, he would have given up a long time ago.”
You consider her words carefully in silence.
Then, out of nowhere, Geto appears and pats you on the back. “Hey, (Y/N), Shoko,” he looks at you and Shoko and then back at you.
“Sorry to interrupt, but do you mind coming with me for a while?” He asks you. You shrug and set your lunch aside. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”
“Just come with me.” He walks away and you follow not far behind with Shoko also deciding to tag along. He leads you toward the training field.
There is Gojo in the middle of the field, with huge neatly arranged words of I LOVE YOU with red rose petals on the grass.
“Oh, my...” You look at the sight, speechless.
Even Shoko is stunned beside you.
“Hmm, I wonder who that could be for?” Geto chuckles and glances at you.
Gojo smiles brightly from the training field when he sees you, “(Y/N)~!!” he waves in your direction.
He holds one stamp of red rose and walks past the stairs to you. He looks confident and proud as if expecting a positive response. He holds out the rose in his hand to you which you gladly accept.
“I thought today would be a perfect day for a little surprise.” He looks genuinely happy to see you. He continues to smile as you take in the flower display. “So, what do you think?” His eyes focused intently on you, watching your every reaction.
“That is...” You try to find a word to describe it, “Beautiful.” Your eyes are locked on the field. The red rose petals look beautiful on the green field.
“I’m glad you like it.” His face breaks out into a broad smile. “Come, let me show you from up close.” He grabs your hand and leads you down the stairs toward the field where the roses are.
He doesn’t mind Geto and Shoko far behind, he’s just focused on you right now.
He walks over to the flower display and leans forward, picking up one of the roses. He turns to you and offers you the flower.
“Here, this one's for you.” His voice is gentle as he hands you the red rose. You can see the happiness in his eyes. “I didn’t get you roses for nothing.” He tilts his head to the side slightly as he smiles at you.
“How long does this take you to arrange?” You look at the small roses scattering on the grass.
He’s lucky that today isn’t windy, an impulsive reason why he just drags Geto to the field and tells his plan to set this up right away without any preparation except for his imagination on what he wants it to look like.
“That?” He gestures to the flower arrangement in front of you. “I just did it this morning, took about a few hours,” he answers casually. “It was worth it though,” he adds softly, his gaze drifting towards your hands.
Your fingers are still interlocked with his and he leans closer to you, still gripping your hand. “You know I like you, don't you?” His grip on your hand tightens slightly but still holds gently to you and caresses the back of your hand.
“Thank you for all this.” Your smile widens. He hums softly. He reaches up and strokes your head lightly. “You’re welcome.” He leans his head close to yours to kiss your cheek.
“Come.” He smiles at you brightly. He caresses the back of your neck gently as he steps back as if giving you space. “You should pick a rose. I think it would look good on you.”
“Okay.” You nod, feeling shy all of a sudden. His gaze is fixed on you, watching as you reach out to take a flower.
The rose you’ve chosen is a vibrant shade of red, one of the brighter roses among all the other blooms. It’s the perfect flower for you, with the color perfectly matching your hair and overall vibe.
“Here,” he carefully pins the rose behind your ear. The red petals fluttered in the sunlight, the rose contrasting beautifully with your hair. His gaze is still locked in on you as he adjusts the flower.
“Well, isn’t this a cute sight.” A faint smile appears on Shoko’s face as she watches from far away with Geto.
“I guess this settles it all.” The man beside her chuckles. “Satoru has been preparing this since the morning. He looks all happy about it.”
“Maybe next time, those two can go on a date.” He adds, with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “Once they officially start dating, that is.”
Gojo gently pushes the rose further up behind your ear with a smile. “I’ve said it many times now,” he chuckles, his voice sounding like music in your ears. He seems to be taking in every detail of your appearance.
“I wanted you to know that you’re all I think about during the day. And you’re all that I’m dreaming about at night.”
Gojo takes a step closer to you and lightly grabs your hand again. “So, what do you say?” His gaze is still locked on you.
“Let’s make this day a special one.” He looks at you expectantly, his face shows how excited and cheerful he is. He leans in close to you, his hand still tight in his grip on yours. The display of red roses in front of you seems to be a clear message.
You blink a few times and try to calm down your fast-racing heart before speaking, “I—” until it's interrupted by Yaga calling out to him, “Satoru!” making both of you look in the direction.
Yaga seems to appear in between Geto and Shoko who looks both surprised and apologetic since they knew you two are in the middle of something.
His smile drops instantly when Yaga calls out to him. He slowly pulls away from you and turns his attention toward the direction of the voice. “Damn it.” He curses under his breath with a look of annoyance crosses his face.
“I need you to come to my office.” He calls out again before turning to Geto beside him, “You, too, Suguru.” He adds before walking away.
“I gotta go.” He suddenly pulls you closer for a quick hug. “We’ll continue this later alright?” He pulls away from you and starts to follow after Yaga and Geto ahead of him.
Shoko walks down the stairs to approach you. “So, did you accept his confession?” She asks while looking at Gojo and Geto’s back.
You look down at the rose he gave you before looking up and turning to see the rose petals that he had arranged.
“No, I didn’t.”
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The fifth time he confessed was when you gave him the silent treatment after he did something that didn't please you.
“I know that I really upset you, but I'm really sorry.”
“Please, (Y/N),” he begs your forgiveness. “I just really don't want to lose you.”
Gojo’s texts come through every 10 minutes or so. He’s desperate for you to respond.
“I messed up, and I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again.”
“Just... Can you, please?”
“Don't ignore me all day.”
“Please, just listen to me.”
His texts slowly get more frequent as time goes by. They start coming in every couple of minutes. You can see the urgency and anxiety his texts convey as he tries to get a hold of you.
You don’t want to block his contact, just because. But you keep ignoring him, too mad to even think of something to say to him, and right now, you don’t have any energy to deal with this.
It doesn’t stop there. He keeps following you just to explain himself to you, hoping that your view of him won't change because of what he has done.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sounds sincere when he approaches you. “I made a mistake.” He tries to take your hand but you pull it away.
“(Y/N), what do I have to do to make up for it? Do you want me to buy you something? I will.” His eyes look sad now, not the confident, cocky look you usually associate with him.
“It won't happen again, I swear.” He looks at you longingly. “Please, I'm begging you.”
“Can you stop following me?” You frown at him, not happy with his presence, something you'd never expect to feel around him.
“No.” He answers bluntly, sounding stubborn. He holds out his hand again. “I'm not leaving yet.” He steps in front of you. “I'm sorry...” He sounds hurt.
“I just want to be with you, (Y/N). Can we please just talk and forget about this whole thing?” His tone is insistent now. “I know I can make it up to you if you just give me the chance.” He continues to look at you with a pleading expression on his face.
“Just leave me alone, can you?” You step back away from him. “You’ve done enough. I don’t want to be around you right now.”
Your words seem to hit Gojo like a ton of bricks. He stays silent for a moment, his face looking like he’s in a slight panic. “But... (Y/N)..." He takes a step towards you, trying to take your hand. He sounds desperate when he speaks to you now.
“Do you really mean that?” He looks at you with a sad, but pleading look in his eyes. Gojo's hands go to his sides as he tries to look as small as he can. “If you give me one last chance, I'll be the best boyfriend ever. I promise.” His voice breaks a bit.
“Gojo.” Your voice is warning now, you don’t want to deal with this even further, knowing that you might say something you’ll regret later.
He goes quiet for a moment, looking down at the floor and adjusting his glasses. He seems to be holding himself back from saying anything. “Okay.” His voice is soft, almost like a whisper. “I'll just go then, and leave you alone, like you want.”
“I’m sorry...” You can see him taking off his glasses and wipe his eyes slightly as he leaves. “But you better not forget that I love you. I always will.” He turns his head slightly to look back at you.
He starts to walk away before he suddenly stops and turns back.
“Oh, right…” He suddenly reaches into his pocket and takes out a single rose. He offers it to you with a sad smile. “Here, this is for you.” His hand stays outstretched, holding the rose close to you. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“If you’ll take this, that is. Please?” Gojo’s voice sounds desperate and he gives you a soft, almost puppy-like look. His eyes are filled with longing as he gazes at you, the rose held out in his hand.
“I'm not accepting your apology and your confession.” You cross your arms and look away, unconsciously letting the words impulsively spill out from your upset mind.
The small smile quickly disappears from Gojo’s face as your reply reaches his ears. He stares at you as you speak in disbelief. “Huh?”
“Why not?” His hand slowly starts to lower by his side, the rose he holds slowly falling onto the ground. “After everything I’ve done for you?” His voice sounds confused as he starts to speak slowly. “You’re still not going to accept?”
“Loving you will just hurt me in the end.” You don’t even know what you’re saying.
You’re hurt from what he did, from what he said. And your mind is telling you to hurt him back.
You don’t want to, but you did it anyway.
“How could you say that?” He quickly steps forward. The rose still lies abandoned at your feet. “How could loving me ever hurt you?” He looks at you with a confused expression.
“(Y/N), I just— I don’t understand how that makes any sense.” His voice quickly turns from confusion to anger. “I’ve spent months trying to make you mine and now you’re telling me ‘it doesn’t matter’?”
You roll your eyes in annoyance, “It’s you who are the one so persistent. Don’t blame me if you don’t get what you want.”
Your comment catches Gojo off guard, making his jaw clenches. “You don’t mean that…” Another hurt expression creeps onto Gojo’s face.
“I just love you too much, okay? Is that so wrong?” He starts to step towards you while talking. “I don’t care how hard it is, I don’t care how much it hurts, I just— want to love you, (Y/N).”
Your lips tremble, trying to surpass your mixed emotion. “Don't expect me to return your love, then.” You walk past him, stepping on the small rose petal that he dropped on the floor earlier. Like you’re stepping on his feelings.
“Wait—” Gojo quickly tries to grab your hand, stopping you from moving away as quickly as you were trying to.
“I’m telling you, I’ll make this up to you. Just give me some time, please.” He looks at you desperately, still clutching onto your wrist. “I can change, (Y/N). You just have to give me the chance.”
“Give me a chance, will ya? Just let my love wash over you and let me sweep you off your feet.” His voice sounds almost like a plea now. “You’ll be so happy, I know you will.”
“You say you won’t let love hurt you, but that’s exactly what love is all about.” He says softly. “Love makes you want it even when it hurts.”
You wriggle your wrist in his hold, your eyes keep glaring at him. “Just stop trying. I don’t want it.”
“No, I can't.” The frustration clearly reaches his voice. “I need you to know how much I love you, (Y/N). Please just hear me out, alright?” His expression is starting to become pleading again
 “I can't stop now. I just— I know you're the right one. I will not give up on convincing you. Just— just don't walk away. I'll do whatever it takes, alright?”
You’re listening, to every single word he says. But with your emotions right now, you act like you didn’t.
“Gojo.” You say his name sternly again. “Let me go.”
He shakes his head stubbornly and pulls you into a tight hug. “You don't mean any of the cold things you're saying, do you?” His voice sounds desperate as he rests his chin on your shoulder.
“I can't give up now. I'm in too deep and you know I can't back down.”
You grasp the side of his uniform. “Please, stop.”
“You're just lying to yourself. I know you don't mean any of this.” He pulls back slightly and looks at you intensely, his tone now annoyed. “I just want to love you. I want to make you happy. Is that so hard to understand?”
He cups your face gently despite the tense situation and a frown on his face. You could see his emotions clearly without his glasses.
“Look into my eyes and tell me you don't care.” Gojo looks at you as if trying to prove a point.
You stay silent, not knowing what to say because he’s right, before saying the only thing that crosses your mind, “I don't want to deal with you right now.”
He doesn't speak for a moment, he looks conflicted, and he takes a small step back. “Alright.” He sighs quietly and looks at you for a few moments.
“I'll let go of you now.”
“But I'm not giving up yet.” He gives you a brief smile before turning away. ��I promise I'll make it up to you.”
The weight of the air changes as Gojo’s presence fades into the background. He leaves, his hands in his pockets.
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A couple of days have passed and you and Gojo are still not on the best of terms. You continue to avoid talking to him and any interactions you have to have seem cold and awkward.
Gojo, on the other hand, is still determined to make you return his feelings.
He seems to have accepted that you’re avoiding him now. Despite this, you’ll occasionally catch him glancing at you from across the room as if longing for the moment when you’ll finally forgive him and give him a chance.
You two still have many of the same classes together, so you’re practically bound to be in the same room even if you avoid each other as much as possible.
It makes Geto and Shoko confused because— what just happened between you two?
You were lovey-dovey the other day, and distant now.
Ah, young, stupid love.
You find it hard to talk to him without getting annoyed or frustrated at him. And yet, you find yourself wondering where he is or what he’s doing. You find yourself paying more attention to him than you should.
Until one day, you can’t find him anywhere after lessons.
You walk around the school casually as if you’re not looking for him.
The weather is windy, and it looks like it's about to rain. The wind blows softly on your hair, and the breeze has an oddly refreshing feeling that is not too far from the start of a rainstorm.
You finally found him on the stairs that lead to the training field. The place where he confessed with many red rose petals on the grass, hours of effort to surprise you and make you happy, all put to waste.
You remember smiling the whole time you picked up the petals once he left, replaying the words over and over again in your head.
You kept them inside a small bag where you cherished thousands of rose petals of his love declaration for you.
His head is ducked down against his arms on his knees as if taking a break. His glasses have fallen on the ground. One of his hands holds a single rose, the bright shade of red almost looking artificial in its vibrancy.
“Gojo?” You call out to him, soft and quiet, for the first time after days of not talking to him.
Gojo’s head jerks towards you and his eyes quickly open as he sees you walking towards him. He doesn’t immediately speak, instead focusing on observing your every move with a thoughtful expression on his face.
His hand shifts, the rose he holds changing position in his grip.
“(Y/N)?” He looks at you, his eyes wider than usual. He looks down at the rose in his hand and smiles briefly. The wind gently blows his hair as he glances at you.
“It's been a while.” He says awkwardly. “How have you been?”
You sit down next to him, looking at the field as you enjoy the breeze. “Good… maybe.” You answer shortly, not sure if you can say you’re actually okay. “You?”
“I've been better.” His voice is slightly quieter than normal as he places the rose next to him. “I feel bad for the stuff that happened between us a few days ago.” He looks at you before speaking up again. “I'm still sorry.”
A couple of seconds pass as neither of you speak. Both of you seem hesitant to start a conversation after what happened last time.
“I know we haven’t spoken in a few days, but I just want to say...“ He stops talking briefly before continuing to speak again. “... I understand if you don't want to speak to me and I'm sure you're still mad, but—“
He hands you the flower. “The rose is for you. I picked it up for you earlier.”
You accept the rose. “Thank you.” You say quietly. “Why were you picking up roses?”
“No reason, really.” He answers casually while looking out towards the field. “I just saw it and I thought of you. I was thinking of you.” 
“That’s sweet.” You admire the rose in your hand. He must have chosen the best one from the garden, it might be the most beautiful one he gave you.
The rose on your hand is like a silent confession and apology. It reminds you of the single rose petal that he dropped on the floor and you step on back then.
You noticed how he was more reserved around you ever since that talk in the empty hallway, and you just need to know, “Are you okay?”
He sighs and looks away, avoiding your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds, giving you an answer that sounds less than truthful. “Yeah, I'm fine.” He then looks at you again. “Don't worry so much about me.”
A brief moment of silence passes. Gojo glances down at the rose next to him for a few seconds before looking back at you. “What are you doing out here?”
This time, you’re glad that you let the word slip out, “I was looking for you.”
He looks at you with eyes filled with curiosity. “Why were you looking for me?” His voice sounds softer now. “Did you need something?” A faint smile appears on his face as he continues to look at you.
“Is this a chance at reconciliation?” He gives a half-hearted chuckle as he asks, deep down hoping you’ll accept him, again.
“Or were you missing me that much already?” The teasing tone is back but it holds some genuine curiosity and a hint of hope. “Are you finally trying to admit that you missed having me around?” He glances at you from the corner of his eye.
His hand picks up a single fallen rose petal next to his feet. He quickly grabs it and places it on your hand that is still holding the rose with a small smile on his face.
Your lips tremble at his gesture as you try to hold back the tears and you look away to calm yourself down with a few small deep breaths before looking down at the rose.
“You were right.”
“About what?” He asks in response as he looks at you. “What's right?”
“About that day, when we argue.” You admit. “You were right... I didn't mean what I said. I was just too upset with you that time.”
“Well, I did take things too far.” His expression softens as you speak. “I made you angry that day.”
You look down at the rose once more before looking at him again to ask the same question, “Are you really okay?”
The question is clearly getting to him and his small smile soon fades away. He looks away from you, giving his answer carefully. “Not really.” He finally admits. His voice is softer, almost sad.
“I know I screwed things up between us.” A couple of more seconds pass. “I know I messed it up bad this time.”
“But, can I tell you something?” He looks at you expectantly.
“Yes. Of course.” You keep your eyes on him, listening for what he has to say.
“I know I've made a lot of mistakes, but I still want to keep trying. You know how I feel about you… I haven't changed my mind either.” He looks at you for a few moments.
“I also know I’ve kind of, well… been bothering you this whole time.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I just can’t seem to get you off my mind.”
“Can’t escape those eyes either…” His eyes are slowly lured towards your own. His expression is almost pensive. “I just want to be with you, (Y/N).”
He looks in front of the fields, recalling that morning when he lays every single rose petal on the grass, only hoping that it could impress you.
He also recalls his first confession to you because of a dare from Geto. He already liked you before then, the dare was just the first small step that his best friends have set up for him.
He sighs again, “Maybe you're right. My love is doomed to fail... but I can't stop loving you, even though you don't feel the same.” He pauses for a few seconds before adding, “I keep trying so hard because it’s you.”
Small droplets fall from the gloomy sky and the wind blows softly, making the tiny droplets of rain feel like a slight sprinkle of coolness across your skin. The wind picks up, the few raindrops turning into a drizzle.
Gojo doesn’t mind the rain. He’s pouring out his heart like the cloud is pouring out rain right now, it increases in volume.
You stand up and kneel down in front of him, still holding the rose with one hand and another cupping his cheek, noticing how sad his eyes look.
You finally say the words he’s been desperate to hear, and they roll out your tongue just right,
“I love you, too.”
Gojo stares at you in disbelief, his eyes slowly widening as he processes your words. He remains motionless for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond. His eyes look shocked for a moment as if he truly did not expect these words from you.
“Huh?” He seems unable to register your words or understand fully what you mean. The rain drops down on his face, but he's too distracted to care.
“What did you just say?” He takes in a breath and turns your head to him. “Did you just— I'm sorry, can you repeat that again? Please…” He seems almost too stunned to respond properly.
You smile as you look at him deep in his wide eyes before saying it again with much more assuringly, “I love you.”
The rain continues to fall and Gojo lets the words sink in. “You love me too?” He repeats, as if trying to make sense of the words.
“You mean it?” He stares at you with hopeful eyes, looking between you and the rose in your hand as if trying to convince himself you really did just say the words he thought he heard.
“Please tell me I didn't misunderstand you earlier.” He sounds almost too shocked, to the point where he almost doubts your words.
You shake your head with a smile remaining on your face. “No, you didn’t.” Your thumb slowly caresses the wet skin of his cheek.
“You really aren't kidding?” He smiles for a moment before his face turns into one of pure surprise again. “You're— you're not just saying that to mess with me, right?” He looks at you as if expecting a joke to follow your response.
“Say it again. Say the words once more.”
You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction, but you don’t mind saying it over and over again just for him.
“Satoru.” You finally called him by his given name. “I love you. I always do.”
His eyes still wide with surprise he blinks rapidly before a wave of realization passes over his face as he stares at you earnestly.
“You mean it, right?” He holds onto your hand. His expression goes from surprised to happy in just a split second. He looks at you with genuine joy as his eyes light up.
“Say it again, (Y/N). Say it again.” This time, his voice sounds less desperate and more like a request. “It would make me so happy to hear it one more time.”
“How many times do you want me to say this?” You chuckle in amusement, but you say it again anyway, “I’m absolutely in love with you.” You say it once more with a bit of exaggeration but you mean it regardless.
His hand starts to reach out to your face. “Now come here. I'm dying to finally kiss you.” His voice is soft, filled with all the anticipation from those past few months.
He pulls you closer, settling you between his thighs, almost on his lap as he pulls you into a strong embrace. He grips your body tightly to him as the rain begins to pour harder.
“I've waited long enough to kiss you,” Gojo says as he brings his face close to yours. You feel your heart beating faster now as his warm breath tickles your skin. Gojo's eyes seem as intense now as the first time he confessed to you.
“Can you say you want it too?” His eyes search yours in anticipation. “Say you want my kiss.”
“Can I have your kiss?” You do what he said with an extra, “Please?”
“That's what I needed to hear.” He smiles and leans down slowly, “Let's make this a good one.” He pressed his soft lips on yours as soon as he finished his sentence. The touch is gentle but passionate, the feeling of his body keeping you warm against the rain falling down on both of you.
He kisses you deeply, with all the pent-up emotion from those past few months, and he leans back after a little while and stares at you, grinning from ear to ear as rain droplets run down your face.
He didn’t say a word before he leaned to kiss you again. He holds you close, bringing you in tight as he runs his fingers through your hair.
His lips are cold in the rain, but they feel good on yours. His warm breath mingles with yours and his arms hold you close. Your lips tingle with the sensation of the cold rain while your body feels the warmth of his body against yours.
His eyes are shut tight and his lips almost seem hungry for yours. He doesn't seem to want to break away from the kiss as his hand holds your cheek to him.
As the rain falls heavily around you, Gojo’s passion seems to burn hotter as he holds you close.
He pulls away and his voice is barely audible as he speaks to you. “I'm glad you finally admitted it.”
“Yeah, it took me long enough.” You say that more to yourself.
Both of you are completely soaked from the rain, his hair is sticking to his forehead and both of your clothes are wet.
“Well, it looks like you already said the magic words.” He leans in and kisses your forehead before standing up and pulling you up as well. “How about another kiss then, since you're already so talkative?”
“Give it to me, then.” You put both hands on his shoulder, one still holding the rose.
“Gladly.” He doesn't hesitate in leaning on you again, wrapping his arm around your waist more intimately and pulling you closer to him.
He pressed his lips against yours in a deeper kiss. If possible, Gojo seems even more affectionate than usual as he pulls you into a tight embrace, his tongue finding a home inside your mouth and his hand gently gripping the material of your uniform.
A faint sound escapes from his throat after a couple of minutes, almost like he's trying to catch his breath. “I love you, (Y/N).”
You’re breathless from the kiss, “I love you, too.” You nuzzle your nose on his.
“I'm so happy...” His voice is filled with emotion, like he's completely intoxicated with love towards you. His grip on you loosens slightly, though he still holds you close.
“Are we dating then?” He smiles at you and brings his hand up to pat your head. “I just want things to be official between us.”
“Hmm, I think so.” You rest your cheek on his body, enjoying the closeness of your body.
His smile widens as he presses his lips against your forehead. “I want you to know, I don't want to have secrets between us.” He runs his fingers through your wet hair. “I want to have more moments like this.” He pulls you closer again, this time placing a kiss on your lips again.
Gojo takes one of your hands between his own, feeling the rose that you kept on holding in your hand as he gently rubs your fingers.
“You're mine, right?”
“Always yours.”
The rose was his heart. You accepted it once and you stepped on it once. He gave you his once more, and you hold it close to your heart.
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Writing confession 5 and 6 got me emotional ಥ‿ಥ
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cuddlytogas · 3 months
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So I accidentally almost got into an argument on Twitter, and now I'm thinking about bad historical costuming tropes. Specifically, Action Hero Leather Pants.
See, I was light-heartedly pointing out the inaccuracies of the costumes in Black Sails, and someone came out of the woodwork to defend the show. The misunderstanding was that they thought I was dismissing the show just for its costumes, which I wasn't - I was simply pointing out that it can't entirely care about material history (meaning specifically physical objects/culture) if it treats its clothes like that.
But this person was slightly offended on behalf of their show - especially, quote, "And from a fan of OFMD, no less!" Which got me thinking - it's true! I can abide a lot more historical costuming inaccuracy from Our Flag than I can Black Sails or Vikings. And I don't think it's just because one has my blorbos in it. But really, when it comes down to it...
What is the difference between this and this?
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Here's the thing. Leather pants in period dramas isn't new. You've got your Vikings, Tudors, Outlander, Pirates of the Caribbean, Once Upon a Time, Will, The Musketeers, even Shakespeare in Love - they love to shove people in leather and call it a day. But where does this come from?
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Obviously we have the modern connotations. Modern leather clothes developed in a few subcultures: cowboys drew on Native American clothing. (Allegedly. This is a little beyond my purview, I haven't seen any solid evidence, and it sounds like the kind of fact that people repeat a lot but is based on an assumption. I wouldn't know, though.) Leather was used in some WWI and II uniforms.
But the big boom came in the mid-C20th in motorcycle, punk/goth, and gay subcultures, all intertwined with each other and the above. Motorcyclists wear leather as practical protective gear, and it gets picked up by rock and punk artists as a symbol of counterculture, and transferred to movie designs. It gets wrapped up in gay and kink communities, with even more countercultural and taboo meanings. By the late C20th, leather has entered mainstream fashion, but it still carries those references to goths, punks, BDSM, and motorbike gangs, to James Dean, Marlon Brando, and Mick Jagger. This is whence we get our Spikes and Dave Listers in 1980s/90s media, bad boys and working-class punks.
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And some of the above "historical" design choices clearly build on these meanings. William Shakespeare is dressed in a black leather doublet to evoke the swaggering bad boy artist heartthrob, probably down on his luck. So is Kit Marlowe.
But the associations get a little fuzzier after that. Hook, with his eyeliner and jewellery, sure. King Henry, yeah, I see it. It's hideously ahistorical, but sure. But what about Jamie and Will and Ragnar, in their browns and shabby, battle-ready chic? Well, here we get the other strain of Bad Period Drama Leather.
See, designers like to point to history, but it's just not true. Leather armour, especially in the western/European world, is very, very rare, and not just because it decays faster than metal. (Yes, even in ancient Greece/Rome, despite many articles claiming that as the start of the leather armour trend!) It simply wasn't used a lot, because it's frankly useless at defending the body compared to metal. Leather was used as a backing for some splint armour pieces, and for belts, sheathes, and buckles, but it simply wasn't worn like the costumes above. It's heavy, uncomfortable, and hard to repair - it's simply not practical for a garment when you have perfectly comfortable, insulating, and widely available linen, wool, and cotton!
As far as I can see, the real influence on leather in period dramas is fantasy. Fantasy media has proliferated the idea of leather armour as the lightweight choice for rangers, elves, and rogues, a natural, quiet, flexible material, less flashy or restrictive than metal. And it is cheaper for a costume department to make, and easier for an actor to wear on set. It's in Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings, King Arthur, Runescape, and World of Warcraft.
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And I think this is how we get to characters like Ragnar and Vane. This idea of leather as practical gear and light armour, it's fantasy, but it has this lineage, behind which sits cowboy chaps and bomber/flight jackets. It's usually brown compared to the punk bad boy's black, less shiny, and more often piecemeal or decorated. In fact, there's a great distinction between the two Period Leather Modes within the same piece of media: Robin Hood (2006)! Compare the brooding, fascist-coded villain Guy of Gisborne with the shabby, bow-wielding, forest-dwelling Robin:
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So, back to the original question: What's the difference between Charles Vane in Black Sails, and Edward Teach in Our Flag Means Death?
Simply put, it's intention. There is nothing intentional about Vane's leather in Black Sails. It's not the only leather in the show, and it only says what all shabby period leather says, relying on the same tropes as fantasy armour: he's a bad boy and a fighter in workaday leather, poor, flexible, and practical. None of these connotations are based in reality or history, and they've been done countless times before. It's boring design, neither historically accurate nor particularly creative, but much the same as all the other shabby chic fighters on our screens. He has a broad lineage in Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean and such, but that's it.
In Our Flag, however, the lineage is much, much more intentional. Ed is a direct homage to Mad Max, the costuming in which is both practical (Max is an ex-cop and road warrior), and draws on punk and kink designs to evoke a counterculture gone mad to the point of social breakdown, exploiting the thrill of the taboo to frighten and titillate the audience.
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In particular, Ed is styled after Max in the second movie, having lost his family, been badly injured, and watched the world turn into an apocalypse. He's a broken man, withdrawn, violent, and deliberately cutting himself off from others to avoid getting hurt again. The plot of Mad Max 2 is him learning to open up and help others, making himself vulnerable to more loss, but more human in the process.
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This ties directly into the themes of Our Flag - it's a deliberate intertext. Ed's emotional journey is also one from isolation and pain to vulnerability, community, and love. Mad Max (intentionally and unintentionally) explores themes of masculinity, violence, and power, while Max has become simplified in the popular imagination as a stoic, badass action hero rather than the more complex character he is, struggling with loss and humanity. Similarly, Our Flag explores masculinity, both textually (Stede is trying to build a less abusive pirate culture) and metatextually (the show champions complex, banal, and tender masculinities, especially when we're used to only seeing pirates in either gritty action movies or childish comedies).
Our Flag also draws on the specific countercultures of motorcycles, rockers, and gay/BDSM culture in its design and themes. Naturally, in such a queer show, one can't help but make the connection between leather pirates and leather daddies, and the design certainly nods at this, with its vests and studs. I always think about this guy, with his flat cap so reminiscient of gay leather fashions.
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More overtly, though, Blackbeard and his crew are styled as both violent gangsters and countercultural rockstars. They rove the seas like a bikie gang, free and violent, and are seen as icons, bad boys and celebrities. Other pirates revere Blackbeard and wish they could be on his crew, while civilians are awed by his reputation, desperate for juicy, gory details.
This isn't all of why I like the costuming in Our Flag Means Death (especially season 1). Stede's outfits are by no means accurate, but they're a lot more accurate than most pirate media, and they're bright and colourful, with accurate and delightful silks, lace, velvets, and brocades, and lovely, puffy skirts on his jackets. Many of the Revenge crew wear recognisable sailor's trousers, and practical but bright, varied gear that easily conveys personality and flair. There is a surprising dedication to little details, like changing Ed's trousers to fall-fronts for a historical feel, Izzy's puffy sleeves, the handmade fringe on Lucius's red jacket, or the increasing absurdity of navy uniform cuffs between Nigel and Chauncey.
A really big one is the fact that they don't shy away from historical footwear! In almost every example above, we see the period drama's obsession with putting men in skinny jeans and bucket-top boots, but not only does Stede wear his little red-heeled shoes with stockings, but most of his crew, and the ordinary people of Barbados, wear low boots or pumps, and even rough, masculine characters like Pete wear knee breeches and bright colours. It's inaccurate, but at least it's a new kind of inaccuracy, that builds much more on actual historical fashions, and eschews the shortcuts of other, grittier period dramas in favour of colour and personality.
But also. At least it fucking says something with its leather.
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