So one of the things I love about watching Star Wars: A New Hope after having watched all the other Star Wars movies is how… well… how normal Luke’s upbringing appears to have been.
It’s not just that he was loved. It’s clear that Breha and Bail Organa loved Leia immensely. But she was a princess functionally from birth, and then became a senator at–what? eighteen, nineteen, twenty? Something like that. She was much loved and much trusted, obviously, but her upbringing must have been… “unusual” would be putting it mildly. As a teenager she was learning statecraft and politics–and deception.
And their mother must have been the same way, queen from such a young age, raised and trained to rule. And their father–loved, yes, deeply, and I have no doubt that his mother did her best to protect Anakin from the worst parts of slavery–but he was still a slave, as was she, and there was only so much they could do.
But Luke! Luke got the gift of a perfectly normal childhood. All the jokes about Luke, the whining about wanting to go to TOSCHE station to pick up some POWER CONVERTERS–the snippy teenagery conversation he has with his uncle about waiting “a whole nother year????”–the shooting womp rats in his T-16 back home–the fact that left to his own devices, at the same age that Leia is deciding THE FATE OF HER PLANET, he’s still playing with model spaceships…..
…they’re all signs that he had a normal childhood. That he’s a normal eighteen, nineteen, twenty, whatever year old.
I mean, he grew up in a situation where it was completely safe for him to whine to his parent figures. He knew that Lars and Beru wouldn’t make him pay for his “but I wanted to go to TOSCHE STATION” or for his “I want to go to the academy THIS year” or whatever. Unlike basically every other Skywalker ever he grew up without a ton of extra pressure, without a “oh by the way you’re going to be king of [planet]” stuff, without “also you’re the Destined Future of the Jedi.” They didn’t raise a legacy, or a scion–they just raised a child. (In point of fact, that’s why Yoda almost rejects him: he’s too old, and he was raised too normal.)
And since Owen and Beru obviously knew perfectly well who and what he was, that’s actually an astonishing accomplishment. They were delivered an infant who they knew had the approximate destructive power of a nuclear device, and they still raised him as… a kid, a child, a boy who they loved with the same mixture of exasperation and devotion as any parent-figures.
He grew up as a kid, with a gruff but loving uncle and a sweet-tempered aunt, he grew up skeet-shooting womp rats and hanging out with his friends in Anchorhead when he had an excuse to go into town–and it’s clear how safe he feels with them because he does whine and moan and have fits without any apparent worry that he’s going to pay for it later. He whines and moans in the way I did at that age: in perfect confidence that while my parents might temporarily snap at me, they would never hurt me, and they would always love me. And that all they really wanted for me was to grow up safe and happy.
tl;dr: Luke Skywalker: the last of the Jedi(?) but also maybe the first of the Jedi to grow up in a normally functional childhood.
(I also really, really want to see the story in which he grieves his aunt and uncle for more than ten seconds. Perhaps I will write it.)
Okay, so, I'd love to read a little something by you set in a world where Lavender made it out of the Battle of Hogwarts. Maybe not okay, but alive?
Once upon a time, Lavender had wanted everyone to look at her. She had been the kind of kid who put on dramatic plays for her stuffed animals, for any visitors to the house, and for any neighbor or passersby she could snag from the front yard.
Dating Ron in sixth year had been fun, most of all because everyone had kept sneaking glances at her. She had heard her name in curious whispers and she had grinned and giggled into Parvati’s shoulder.
Everyone was looking now, or pretending not to. She heard the whispers– oh it’s that poor Brown girl. Can you imagine, if it was your daughter, if it was you? Oh and she was so pretty before, too–what a pity–almost makes it worse, doesn’t it?
“You know Professor Lupin was a werewolf?” Hermione said, ten minutes into a very awkward lunch she had asked for in an equally awkward letter.
Lavender pushed a sauteed carrot through a little puddle of pasta sauce. “I think everyone heard about that one. Someone told the papers, or something, right?”
“Er, yes,” said Hermione. “Snape did. Which is what I– I mean, it’s related. Oh, I wish you’d gotten to talk to Remus about this. He was a lovely man.”
“Not as lovely as Lockhart,” Lavender said and she and Hermione spent a moment in wistful remembrance. “God, I feel old,” Lavender said.
“Anyway, Snape,” said Hermione. “Snape and Lupin. When Lupin was at school, Snape would make him a potion that would… tame him, on full moons. He could just curl up in his office and sleep by the fire. If you’re interested, I’m trying to learn how to brew it myself.”
Lavender shook her head. “We’re not friends,” she said. “Never have been. So why are you doing all this?”
Hermione looked like she was trying to say “we’re friends,” but she couldn’t get it out. “I was there, once, when Lupin turned without the potion. I was so scared. I thought we were going to die.”
“Afraid I’ll sniff you out on a dark night?” Lavender said, face twisting as she sank back into her wicker chair.
“No, I–” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, and all the hesitation was making Lavender more and more uncomfortable. Even at eleven, Hermione had bulldozed through things. She didn’t waver. “I was so scared, but I think it was even worse for him. It hurt, but he looked so scared, too, I–”
“I know how it feels,” said Lavender, very quietly, and Hermione snapped her mouth shut. Lavender took a big sip from her tea. It was still steaming– it had not taken long to exhaust small talk, between the two of them.
Hermione cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to make amends. I’m trying to– make things better. Do you want this?”
Lavender put her mug back down, shaking out scalded fingers, and said, “Yes.” Then, because her mother had raised her right, she said, “Thank you.”
“That sounds like a weird conversation,” said Parvati, whose door Lavender went and knocked on after she and Hermione had split the bill with the precise-to-the-Knut math of the vaguely acquainted and recently employed.
Lavender kicked through the fall of autumn leaves that had collected in front of the porch swing. “She was trying to be nice, I think.”
“She’s not very good at it,” said Parvati.
Her father wept. He tried not to but he was a crier, always had been.
“You were so brave,” said Lavender’s mother, cupping her cheeks in her warm hands and not even flinching at the scar tissue under her palms. “We are so proud.”
Lavender’s mother was a Muggleborn, daughter of a math teacher and a door-to-door salesman (“now there is a profession that requires some magic,” her grandfather used to tell her).
Her father was a wizard and he was trying hard not to cry, bending down to pet the dogs weaving between all their ankles. Lavender bent down, too, scratching behind Fiddlestick’s floppy ears while Mopsy cleaned her cheek forcefully. “Hey,” she said, and her father looked up, trying to firm his wobbly chin.
“You know I’m proud of you, too,” he said, trying not to tremble on it. “I just…” He reached out to squeeze her knee gently. “You did everything right. You did everything good. I’m so proud of you, chickadee.”
“I know,” she said, and she did. He was a Gryffindor, too.
It took Hermione more than a month to figure out the potion sufficiently well enough that she’d let Lavender try it. She was founding a non-profit for nonhuman rights, too, after all, as well as doing a fair few local speaking gigs, petitioning the Wizenagamot on a half dozen issues, getting an advanced degree, and supposedly, at some point, sleeping.
It took more than a month, so Lavender spent another night locked in her parents’ newly fortified cellar. She didn’t remember much, but she woke up with her throat sore and her nails ragged. The door was gouged from the inside. She wondered if she had been screaming. She wondered if that’s what the howls were. She felt like screaming, maybe, a little.
The door cracked open the moment the moon had dropped down below the horizon, outside. Her mother came in with a tray of her favorite breakfast foods– danishes and boiled eggs, steaming hot cocoa with the barest splash of bitter coffee in it.
Parvati came stomping down the stairs after her. “Graceful,” said Lavender. She winced at the roughness of her voice.
“Look who’s talking,” said Parvati. “Up, c'mon, eat your breakfast. We’re doing midnight manicures. Your dad says he’ll let us doll up his nails, too.”
The next full moon night, Lavender locked herself in the cellar again. “It should be safe,” Hermione had said. “It should. I mean, I’ve done all the tests. I followed all the instructions. It should work.”
Lavender didn’t remember, because she never remembered– she didn’t recall the cellar door unlocking and opening after ten minutes of post-moonrise silence. She didn’t recall Parvati Wingardium Leviosa-ing a comfy chair down the stairs, or her sitting down and pulling out a stack of Witch Weeklys, nor did she remember curling up on Parvati’s fuzzy button slippers and going to sleep.
But she did remember waking up in the morning, her cheek pressed into a soft pillow. She was tattered under a thick blanket, but she was human and looking upward at Parvati’s slack, sleeping face. Her dark plaits tumbled, curling, over the soft pink polka dots of her pajamas.
Lavender pulled herself up to sitting, stole the open Witch Weekly, and waited for Parvati to wake up.
“You’re going to be alright,” Professor Trelawney said and she wasn’t even looking at Lavender’s palm, just holding her hand tight in her cold fingers. “You’re going to be happy. You’re going to be fine. People are going to love you and stand by you and we will be there.”
The tower room was just the same as Lavender remembered it, down to the spicy-sweet tea and Trelawney’s big blinking eyes. Lavender squeezed her hands back. “I love you, too, professor.”
“You know, I think you can call me Sybil. It seems the time for it.”
Dean and Seamas’s housewarming for their ugly little first flat was a crowded mess, but the afterparty wasn’t. Lavender and Parvati came by with paint swatches, opinions, and hangover remedies. They ate greasy Chinese food on the floor, because it was about as comfortable as the couch.
They came back the next week, and the next. Parvati conjured a crackling fire in a big fruit bowl Dean’s mother had given him and they all sat around it like they were back at Gryffindor Tower’s hearths, procrastinating on homework.
On nights like that they sometimes talked about Hogwarts, but most of the time they didn’t. Dean had started drawing again and he walked them through his notebooks– his sisters, caricatures of the customers he dealt with in Ollivander’s wand shop, the snarky little comics he’d always scrawled in the edges of his notes. Parvati told them about the Auror trainees’ antics, going ut on their first field missions with their mentors. “All bravado and caffeine,” she said. “Bunch of show-offs.”
“So you fit in well, then?” Dean said.
“Nah, that’s Lav,” Parvati said. Dean and Seamas glanced warily at Lavender, but she just giggled and reached for another potsticker.
Seamas was considering going back to school. “Hermione’s been badgering me about it,” he said. “Says I have a talent for pyrotechnics, and there’s a whole major for fire magics at Brinxley.”
“What about you, Lav?” said Dean. “You still thinking about vet school?”
“Oh, uh, that’s the Muggle word. Veterinarian– a medimagizoologist?”
“The schools aren’t too interested in a werewolf as a student,” Lavender said, shrugging.
“Not that that stops Hermione from showing up on the doorstep with half-penned anti-discrimination lawsuits she wants Lav to star in,” Parvati said.
“When does she sleep?” said Dean.
Little children asked about it in the street sometimes. “Mum, why’s her face like that?” “How come she’s walking all funny?”
Sometimes their parents turned to Lavender with eager bright eyes in the grocery store line, expecting her to answer. (“I got hurt, but I’m okay now.”) Sometimes they shushed their kids and gave her little apologetic half-smiles, glancing away from the raised lines of scar tissue. Sometimes they pulled their children closer to them and crossed to the other side of the street.
Harry Potter had a godson. Teddy Lupin was four the first time Lavender met him, just outside Gringotts. Teddy clung to Harry’s pants leg, peeking past his godfather’s hanging robe. “Why’d her face do that?” he said and Harry dropped a hand down into Teddy’s hair, which was bright green.
“She’s just like your dad,” said Harry.
“Puppy,” Teddy whispered, eyes wide with joy, and his skin shifted until scars stood out stark on his smiling chubby cheeks.
Lavender bit her lip and sank down to her knees in the street, holding out a hand. “Why aren’t you handsome, chickadee. What’s your name?”
Once, Lavender had wanted everyone to look at her.
She hated stories that told you to be careful what you wished for. Were you not supposed to want things? Was that the answer? She was nearly twenty two and she could make things fly with a few whispered words. She had lived through her seventh year at Hogwarts, had stepped out into that battle with her wand out and her eyes open. She had woken up–hurting, wounds tended, poison in her veins–to Parvati sleeping on Sybil’s shoulder at her bedside.
She had cried when they told her about the lycanthropy. She had cried over her bunny because a fox had gotten to it. Both times it had been with her face buried in Parvati’s shoulder and Parvati’s hands stroking her hair. She wished and she wanted– animals that never left you, bodies that never betrayed you.
Once, Lavender had wished that everyone would look at her, and now they were. Everyone was looking– so Lavender held Parvati’s hand in the grocery store at midnight, because they had both been craving green apples. Everyone was looking– so Lavender curled her hair and pinned it up, wore tank tops and little skirts on any day hot enough that she could get away with it, laughed aloud in public spaces. Everyone was looking– so Lavender knocked on Hermione Granger’s door one evening and asked, “What would it take to get me into magical vet school?”
Hermione had her bushy hair all tied back and a quill behind each ear. “A lot. There’s some statutes we’ve got to fight, and even if we can handle that you’ll still be under intense scrutiny for years.”
“I can work with that,” said Lavender, and Hermione grinned.
When Teddy marched down the aisle with the rings, his hair was a shimmering swirl of pink and purple to match the flowers woven into Parvati’s braids and Lavender’s curls.
The honeymoon would be short–a week in magical Paris in the townhouse of a Beauxbaton girl they’d befriended fourth year. Lavender had more medical textbooks packed into her luggage than anything else. Parvati’s bags were lined with half-finished reports that she’d owl to Auror headquarters from a rumpled Parisian morning, getting croissant crumbs in the bedsheets.
But for now the hall was filled with pink and purple blooms, white candles, familiar faces. Hermione stood in a violet bridesmaid’s dress, and Dean and Seamus in matching ties at Parvati and Lavender’s respective backs. Padma was luminescent with joy over Parvati’s shoulder. She had taken Lavender aside that morning for a short quiet walk in the mist and told her, “I know tonight’s what makes it official, but I’ve thought of you as my sister for years.”
When Lavender leaned forward and kissed her wife, her father burst into proud tears in the front row. He was a crier, always had been. Lavender buried her face in Parvati’s shoulder, smiling so hard she thought she might come apart. Her scars creased and puckered in her dimples, and she was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:
the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)
John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.
Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.
They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”
“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”
Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”
He nods. “Can I get you anything?”
John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.
“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”
Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.
“Happy to help,” he says.
John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.
“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”
Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.
“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.
“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.
Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.
“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”
“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”
Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”
He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.
“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”
He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.
“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”
John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.
“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”
“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”
“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”
And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.
“And who exactly is he?”
John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.”
Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”
So you may have heard that the best Chris™ will be in a new Disney film coming up. Or perhaps you know that the director of 13th, Ava DuVernay is the first black woman to be given a $100m budget to make this movie. Or maybe you just saw the boss ass picture of Oprah in her full makeup.
Whatever it is, you’ve probably heard that this movie is happening. Now, I assume that many of you read the book growing up like I did, but in case you didn’t, I here to tell you why it is The Most Amazing™
1. It is a SMART sci-fi novel for children. It doesn’t pander. It is complex and goes into a lot of cutting edge science (from the 60’s when it was published) and was almost rejected because it was considered too “adult.”
2. It has a 12 year old female protagonist. Back in the 60’s you didn’t have a lot of women and girls as the leads of anything, and certainly not leads in a sci-fi world. But meet Meg Murray, the fucking best. She is totally subversive of so many tropes that males usually inhabit (angry and acts out because of an absent father, oldest sibling responsibility, etc.) , plus her own set of personality traits and struggles that just make her a really wonderful well rounded character. This is another reason why 20 something publishers rejected it back in the day. Also in case you didn’t hear STORM REID (12 Years A Slave) IS PLAYING HER AND I AM HYPE FOR THIS.
3.It’s a really beautiful marriage of science, magic, and religion. Meg is assisted by three Witches who guide her along a journey across time and space and they respect all three of these things, which I think is pretty remarkable. Plus, this means that the majority of the main characters are women.
4.It introduces children to the idea that their relationships with their parents will be complicated. While Meg loves her father (portrayed by Chris Pine) she comes to see that he, as all other authority figures are imperfect and that she must solve some things herself. Once again, the theme of a young woman claiming her own agency is a powerful one, and its accomplished in a really nuanced way.
5.Meg isn’t good at everything and that’s ok. The narrative reenforces that no one is perfect or good at everything but everyone has their own value and strength that uplift others. Meg begins the story feeling frustrated she isn’t as athletic as her 11 year old twin brothers, or a genius like her parents or 5 year old brother. She has another scene where it shows she struggles with the fact she isn’t nearly as remarkably beautiful as her mother (played by Gugu Mbatha-Raw) but in the end she learns her own talents still matter.
6.Lastly, it teaches that empathy, compassion, and love, are all strengths. I know were all reveling in Wonder Woman and how it had the theme that you can be both powerful and kind, strong and loving, so guess what YOURE GUNNA LOVE THIS STORY.
I’d really recommend checking out the book, and of course SUPPORTING THE HELL OUTTA THE MOVIE. I promise, it’s going to be something truly special.
summary: the years spent working hard had really paid off and was it so wrong to want to rub that in a few faces? The cliché mean girls that often teased you for not doing anything with your hair or clothing, wouldn’t it be great to show off someone like Jungkook? High school reunion au + ceo!jeon
Eyes like ice, cold and calculating narrow over the rim of a wine glass. Soft lips press to the polished glass, the crimson complimenting tan skin. If it weren’t for the soft dent between his brows you would have assumed he had not heard you. He takes his time allowing the wine to caress his palate, eyes closed as he savors the taste. As always, he makes you wait until the wine glass is drained of it’s dark contents. You ponder on the taste, if it is bitter upon his tongue much like his words.
i found this post in my drafts and have ZERO memory of writing it (thank u alcohol) so im gonna put it in my queue lol
ok but imagine
Bitty comes out to his parents but he doesn’t tell them about Jack, thinks it’s for the best, maybe to ease his parents into things or maybe to keep the pool of People Who Know as small as possible
and like yeah Ransom and Holster are super oblivious but Suzanne Bittle is not, not when it comes to her son, because she is a certified Nosy Southern Mother and she can see he’s been acting differently, happier but quieter, always on his phone and blushing when she asks about boys
and he talks about the team a LOT
Jack’s one of his best friends and he’s just started his NHL career, so of course Bitty’s never gonna shut up about Jack
(Same goes for Shitty and law school. And eventually Ransom and med school. Dicky is proud of his friends and wants everyone to know. He gets that trait from Suzanne, she understands)
but he keeps talking about this one Boy, how sweet he is and how his smile is like a sack of puppies and how bitty’s always making this boy do things with him like baking and getting froyo and going shopping and Suzanne is like. Yes. This must be Dicky’s secret boyfriend.
the next family weekend or whatever, Suzanne demands to meet this Chowder boy who’s stolen Bitty’s heart
Disclaimer - I do not own any of Descendants’ characters and/or ideas all credit goes to the creator and producers of Disney Descendants
Pairing - Harry Hook x Reader
Summary – (Y/N) is the daughter of Dr. Facilier and is one of the Villain Kids who go to Auradon but when Mal returns to the Isle she goes with Ben, Evie, Carlos, and Jay to get her back when they run into her boyfriend, Harry Hook
Warning(s) - threats, if you squint harm/harassment hinted and mentioned, protective
Could you please write a Peterxreader where reader is the youngest
member of the team. One day they have a movie date in the tower and the
team spies on them?Could it be in the point of view of the team?[bonus
points if deadpool is in it] thanks <3
Wade has created a chatroom.
Wade has added Natasha, Tony, Thor, Bruce, Steve, Clint, Vision.
Clint: What, Wade?!
Tony: Can we text later? You’re going to distract me!
Bruce: I need to
ask, but is it not weird that us, adults, are spying on Y/N and Peter,
our youngest and most loved members movie date in a very cramped up
Natasha: If you
don’t like it, then you can leave, Banner. It’s not weird. We are just
being protective parental units/uncles/adopted android sibling.
Steve: Should they be sitting so close? Natasha, should they? Maybe I should go in and sit between them.
Tony: I will kick your ass, Rogers! Don’t you dare ruin their date!
Thor: Grab him, Stark! I shall lay Mjolnir upon him so he may not move.
Steve: Try it and I will run off with Mjolnir!
Thor: You? Worthy? HA! Do not fight us!
Steve: I know you
have your doubts. I know deep down you know that I was faking not being
able to lift Mjolnir. Would you like to test me?
Being the result of an old girlfriend– not really sure what happened to her. Tony never talked about her, you’re his main priority now.
Not many people thought Tony would be able to handle a child, let alone one of the opposite sex
But he can actually be really chill
As a child he spoiled you so much, but he’s learned to calm down over the years
But when you want something you ask for it and he does the “on a scale of one to this will kill you if i don’t buy it” how badly do you need it?” but he usually almost always buys what you want. because stark.
You were exposed to the party scene very early on. The press was always interested in hearing from the perspective of Tony’s daughter
Pepper being your mother figure and her loving you even if you aren’t her own
You and Pepper hanging out when Tony is busy
She loves you so much
Tony calls a press conference? Pepper is there to watch after you. Tony has to save the world with the Avengers? Pepper keeps you in her sight to make sure you are okay
Oh man when he went missing in 2008, Pepper took you in because you felt safest with her without your father around
You were the most worried when he went missingIt was the worst time of your life, hearing your father was missing and presumed dead
Pepper came into the house one day “(Y/N)! HE’S BEEN FOUND! TONY IS ALIVE!”
Bursting into tears so quickly
Going with Pepper to see him when he arrived back and losing it even more when you actually got to hug your dad for what felt like the first time in forever
Tony being so relieved he got to hold you again, he didn’t know if it would ever happen
You basically forced him to tell you how he escaped meaning you learned so quickly about the Iron Man project
Spending so much time in the labs either just keeping company or helping
Trying to make your own AI since Tony has JARVIS why not try to make one yourself
Not actually doing too bad
Vacations were the shit because you could just hop on a private plane with your father and go wherever was decided
You basically forced him to tell you how he escaped meaning you learned so quickly about the Iron Man project
You wanting to build your own Iron Daughter suit but Tony freaking out that it’s too dangerous for you
“Then why do you do it? You’re my dad! It looks like so much fun!”
“It comes with a lot of responsibility, (Y/N), it’s not a toy.”
“So? I want to be like you! I look up to you and I want to do the things you do. I want to protect the world too, I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can…but I can’t risk it. I can’t risk losing you.”
And then you realize how much your father actually cares for you and you dropped the whole suit thing
[after the avengers becomes a thing] Having many ideas that you share with the science bros™
Bruce loves you because you can annoy Tony to death
Always pulling the “Steve would let me do that…” card to get Tony to let you do things
Meeting Peter and tony either loving him or “don’t touch my daughter, Peter Parker.”
The Avengers really is just one big family and they love you too
Never wanting the Accords to become a thing. Luckily, your young mind was able to talk sense into everyone and help them realize they’re being stupid the avengers can’t split up. someone go save the old russian soldier and everyone hug it out.
Tony and Steve still argue about everything, though, there is no getting out of that
“How do you deal with him?” Natasha asks you almost daily about your father
But there will always be the kind of sarcastic-loving-family relationship.
Basically you are the glue for Pepper and Tony’s relationship and even though they took a break when the Accords stuff was happening, they got back together and you couldn’t be more happy
‘Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to. That’s the only way to become what you were meant to be.’ - (This does not mean what you think it does....)
I haven’t written many original posts recently, but given what has happened today, expect quite a few over the next couple of days.
My first post is about the quote above. I wanted to just let my feelings settle a bit before writing this, but it just happens to be the first thing I noticed.
For those unfamiliar, I wrote a post a couple months ago about Kylo Ren and his motivations. It pretty much sums up what Lucasfilm presented to us in this trailer, as far as where Kylo Ren is, psychologically speaking, at the end of The Force Awakens. I would REALLY recommend reading it in order to understand where I am coming from concerning this post.
As many of us suspected, the central theme of ‘The Last Jedi’ seems to be indeed that of finding one’s sense of identity.
With the above quote I found myself viewing it in a very different light after watching the trailer a few times.
It’s partially to do with the tone of Kylo’s voice. He’s not angry, not even sad exactly. He almost sounds like he is advising someone. And the language also suggests that, when he talks about ‘what YOU were meant to be’, to me this alludes to the fact that he is either being metaphorical or speaking directly to somebody else.
This is purely my own speculation, but in my mind, he is actually speaking to Rey. This line might have been put in simply for the trailer and doesn’t actually exist in the film, but I think it’s part of a conversation. A conversation while Rey and Kylo are connected through the force? A conversation after Kylo reveals Rey’s past, including what happened to her family? Maybe. These are all possibilities.
But why would I jump to this conclusion? After all, isn’t he simply talking about killing his mother and uncle, after having killed his father?
Actually, I say no.
And it’s for a very simple, logical reason that has nothing to do with sentimentality (although I, like many of you out there I suspect, did indeed tear up when Kylo’s thumb hovered over that button which, if pushed, would end up killing his mother).
It comes from comparing TFA with this trailer. You have to take into account of what has happened in TFA and how that has changed everyone. I don’t actually think Kylo is repeating himself here, that I believe is misdirect but again I might just be overthinking.
Kylo Ren says in the official trailer for TFA that ‘he will finish what Darth Vader started’.
Throughout Episode VII, Kylo Ren is constantly emulating his grandfather, most likely because he wants to be like him. He cherishes Darth Vader’s crumpled mask like an old relic in a museum and wears his own mask proudly at the beginning of the film.
Now let’s compare that to this trailer. What does he do when he says -
‘Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to. That’s the only way to become what you were meant to be.’
What does he do?
He destroys his mask.
In other words, he destroys his old self. The old self that emulated Darth Vader, that was trying to be like the grandfather and hid behind a mask.
This is incredibly literal as this is what the trailer actually wants you to see. The first interpretation one could logically form. And you see how Kylo Ren is doing a complete u-turn here. He is literally doing the opposite to what he did in the TFA trailer. You miss it perhaps because of the impact of what happens soon after this shot. But this point can be expanded upon, as I did in my previous post above.
Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, whoever he is, is trying to find his sense of identity. But he is no longer satisfied with trying to find it by looking into the past, by looking into his family’s history. This INCLUDES Darth Vader, not just Luke, Leia or Han.
I think he is in fact turning his back on his own lineage. Because he thought it would be enough. He thought that by finding out his grandfather was the powerful Sith Lord Darth Vader, he would be able to answer the question of why he could never find balance within himself.
He’s even more lost now than he was before. He knows that the answer no longer lies with Darth Vader.
So how does this connect to his dialogue?
Because this mirrors another character’s trajectory. And I believe he says these words to the said character later in the film, when he realizes his past mistake.
Why? Because she is still struggling, just as he is, with finding ‘her place in all this’. In other words, finding her sense of identity.
What I think is truly amazing is that somebody else in this sequel trilogy has already said these words before, or at least something to this effect.
‘The belonging you seek is not behind you, it is ahead.’
Phrased completely differently but when you put that next to -
‘Let the past die. That’s the only way to become what you were meant to be.’
Yes, I know I cut a piece of dialogue out but it’s clear what is happening here, and in fact what is happening throughout this trailer.
Kylo and Rey’s paths are not just similar.
They are one and the same.
This is why people have come away from this trailer questioning whom Snoke is referring to. Because in a way it doesn’t matter. The point Lucasfilm is making here is that ‘Rey and Kylo are two halves-’
And you can finish off the rest of that sentence.
Now back to what I said at the beginning of this post. I think we will find out more of Rey’s past, but my daydreaming self is saying that Kylo warns Rey, just as Maz did, to not let her past completely inform her future. Otherwise, she could end up like him, misguided and lost. When he says ‘kill it if you have to’, this could be on a figurative level or it may allude to Rey’s dark origins (stay turned for that post).
If what he’s saying is basically the same as what Maz recommends to Rey, then what does that say about Kylo? What does that say about the light and dark, if they are essentially saying the same thing? :-)
So what do you guys think? Let me know through comments and reblog and check out for more posts in the coming days. This is such an exciting time to be part of this fandom and I love you all very much! You make the experience a hundred times more moving and fun! I nearly screamed at the end of that trailer and for a minute thought I was genuinely hallucinating. Gobsmacked, speechless, is best way I can describe it.
Hello there! Long time, no see (my bad I know) but, here: an Alicia Zimmermann-centric piece as she goes to Parents’ Weekend during Jack’s freshmen year. [focus on Alicia, Jack, and Shitty] 6k
Somewhere, deep in her heart, Alicia Zimmermann knows she is a bad mother.
It started out as a worry, as maybe it does for all new mothers, that she will be a bad mother. That she won’t know what to do with a baby or a toddler that one day she will accidentally drop him or forget to feed him or feed him something he is actually allergic to or maybe she’ll scar him emotionally somehow and she worried but she survived his childhood okay. And then, after he was five or six, she stopped worrying about it. She thought she was doing pretty good. Jack had hockey and loved hockey and, sure, they didn’t have deep emotional talks but she didn’t exactly have any basis of comparison. Television families told her she was doing okay. No teenage boy wanted to have deep talks with his mother. And, look, if Jack didn’t talk to her all that much as he turned 12 and then 13, at least he was still talking to his father. Mostly still about hockey but she… she thought that had counted. Hockey was like French, to her. Another language she could understand but couldn’t quite speak. But Bob could. He was on top of it. Jack was taken care of.
She loved Jack. That was never the problem. The problem was that her love wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter. It didn’t alert her to any of the facts and maybe it even blinded her– She loved her son and her son loved hockey and so she loved hockey too. She loved her son and then her son seemed to love a boy named Kent and they never talked about it but she let Kent come over all the time and she figured they would discuss it at some point. She just… assumed everything was okay. Even after he was diagnosed with the anxiety disorder and given pills. It was always… well, that was a little problem but it’s handled and under control and everything is okay now.
See. Bad mother.
A good mother would have known somehow.
A good mother would have pushed and prodded or sensed it without even having to be told.
A good mother would have paid attention to how hard Jack was on himself. A good mother would have made sure her son had interests outside of hockey. A good mother would have known that Jack’s long silences after losses weren’t normal. A good mother would have preached balance and fostered friendships with different types of people and stopped the fucking hockey.
She didn’t though. Stop the hockey. No, not Alicia Zimmermann. She encouraged it. She went to the games and cheered the loudest and she even loved it a little bit because she thought it brought him joy, like his father. She bought into the vision: Jack playing hockey like Bob, the Zimmermann legacy continued throughout the ages…
God, she even used to tease Jack about how it took his father three years to win a Cup and she was sure Jack could manage it faster than his old man.
A good mother wouldn’t have done that. So, see, she’s always been a bad mother. Even now, now that she’s almost lost him, now that she’s promised to do better, now that she’s finally read all the books and online articles about anxiety and pressure and the danger of sports and hockey culture… now she’s still just as bad. Just for different reasons.
Now she is a bad mother because it’s Saturday afternoon and he’s been at Samwell for almost three months and she does not feel like mothers are supposed to feel in this moment.
She glances around. At the sea of other mothers and fathers crammed onto Samwell’s campus for Parents’ Weekend. They are not nervous. They are excited. Happy. Enthusiastic. Overjoyed to see the teenager they had left just a couple months ago again. To her right is a father almost (but not quite) breaking into a run to give his son a hug. To her left, a mother has burst into tears. Happy tears.
And then there’s her. She’s not excited to see Jack. Well, no. No, it’s not that she’s not excited. She is. She is. (She is. She repeats it once more just to remind herself). She is just…
She is nervous too. More nervous than she is excited.
Seven Things About Supernatural: 13x01 - “Lost And Found”
Oh hey. The show’s back.
Honestly. This is mid-season or season-ender level crying happening. And shit, I am so fucking here for it.
Jack is his father’s son. Not Lucifer’s, despite his parentage, but Castiel’s. He doesn’t understand, but he wants to. He isn’t cruel, he isn’t violent. He’s something that doesn’t fit. Both of them want guidance from a missing father. He even looks a bit like Cas, and the scenes in the police station – light bulbs exploding as he passes, being stabbed in the chest to no effect – are callbacks to Cas’ entrance in 4x01.
(He also takes after his uncle Gabriel, what with the Nougat thing. And the t-shirt is kind of an awesome nod to what Dean “sees” in him – i.e. the son of Satan – via the horns.)
But yeah. He just wants his dad. He was just looking for his dad. I wonder who that sounds like…
Miriam – aka drunk fries angel – was a highlight. She’s merciless and damn good at her job, trailing the Winchesters to get intel while just sort of casually fucking with them. She writes “BITCH” in the dust of Baby’s back window, and she’s brutal in her fight with Dean. She knows how to make things hurt emotionally and physically, and makes decisions in the moment in ways that reminded me that I might have a very specific competence kink.
She reads Dean perfectly. Anything? Nope, Cas is dead. You want your son safe? Kill that guy and we’ll deal. I’m gonna die? Fine, but I’m taking a shot at the Nephil on the way out.
She also conjures up the ghost of Becky Rosen. Which…okay, I’m coming out of the text for a little bit on this one, because this was a thing that in the text is a little bit of a throwaway in the sense that we know how the angels feel about the Winchesters being a destabilizing, selfish force.
But the name Becky, that we’re supposed to hear. And she uses it, over and over, so that if we miss it the first time, we’ll catch it. And then she describes a really thoughtless, selfish person who breaks whatever she wants without concern for others in her own pursuit of satisfaction and amusement.
Guys, I think Dabb might have called the disruptive, abusive edges of fandom out for their bullshit. The ones who scream at the writers, the ones who kill the fun for other fans, the ones who are dicks at cons, etc. And that’s…fascinating? Because I know that Becky is a character a lot of folks have analyzed and tried to rehabilitate a little, even though she (and a lot of the fans portrayed in 5x09) are not a positive portrayal of fans in the same way some later portrayals are (e.g. 10x05).
And if that’s what he’s doing, that only really exists inside that scene – because we probably aren’t supposed to self-identify this way via Dean after Miriam calls him a Becky – but…
Anyway, it’s possible I’m projecting and seeing subtext where it’s not there, but I saw it the first time ‘round and in my morning rewatch and…yeah. I can’t unsee it.
Dean’s prayer fucks me up something terrible.
“We’ve lost everything, and now you’re gonna bring him back. Okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back mom. You’re gonna bring ‘em all back. All of ‘em. Even Crowley. ‘Cause after everything you’ve done, you owe us, you son of a bitch. So you get your ass down here and you make this right, right here, right now.”
This isn’t the first time he’s excused himself to the back of the building to try and contact an absent father, and gone unheard. He knows how this goes. You can see it in his face. He tries to have faith. He gets nothing.
Arguably, Dean’s quarrel with Chuck in 11x21 still stands. Nothing has changed. He’s still getting screwed over by a father’s willful absence.
And then there’s this:
“We’ve lost everything, and now you’re gonna bring him back. Okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas…”
He can’t even say that Cas is dead to Sam when they go looking for Jack, but he knows it. He saw the wing prints. Miriam taunted him with it. He’s fucked-up about losing Mary yet again – evidenced by his nightmare after Jack knocks him out – but this is the loss hitting him the hardest. It’s Cas’ body that’s his to prepare, his to burn.
“You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back mom. You’re gonna bring ‘em all back. All of ‘em. Even Crowley.”
(That’s not an echo of ”I love you. I love all of you.” Not at all.)
“Well goodbye, Cas…”
And hey, if Dean’s prayer didn’t fuck you up completely, Sam teaching Jack about funerals – Jack who is an orphan now, watching both of his parents burn – is there to cause the leak in your ceiling that will pour water on your face.
“You say thank you. And you say you’re sorry. You hope they’re somewhere without sadness, pain. You hope they’re somewhere better. You say goodbye.”
Like, for all folks were complaining toward the end of Hellatus about who Sam is on the show of late – i.e. purely analytical, unfeeling – this ep was fantastic for centering him as this sort of mediating force who’s trying to work big picture despite the loss, trying to take all data into account.
And also trying not to die, because he was fucking terrified in that jail cell.
Which hey, understandable. And if we’re giving Miriam competence kink points for adusting on the fly, Sam earned his in bulk. Plus, he totally headbutted an angel. So hey. Sam fucking Winchester.
Actually, let’s just take a second to laugh about how scary Jack both is and isn’t. Because he’s not doing most of the exotic, terrifying things on purpose. He just does them when he’s scared. And he knows almost nothing about his abilities, but he’s learning what he can as fast as he can after “growing up fast” as per his mother’s recommendation.
His sense of self seems kind of nebulous. He “was” Kelly, though we don’t really know what he means by that exactly. When he uses his powers he feels somehow disconnected from them.
And he gets hungry and the lights flicker we’re all like, “OH SHIT CLARK,” and then nope, he’s just magically stealing candy from the vendo. And he feels really badly about frightening and hurting Clark and Sheriff Barker.
He’s still figuring out shoes, y’all. Shoes.
So I can’t help but notice that Sam doesn’t share the Castiel-as-Jack’s-father bombshell with Dean. Which, uh, I debated leaving as a bonus thing, or rolling into #5, but I think it’s significant enough to mention on its own, because this is a) kind of a big fucking deal with regard to understanding Jack, and b) kind of a serious fucking omission on Sam’s part.
Which…historically….well, Sam does that a lot. And he usually has a reason, but it also usually has consequences, so batten down the hatches for that, I suppose.
Bonus Thing: Sheriff Barker is a gift. I mean, she got the talk basically right out of the gate, and she advocates on behalf of people others call crazy or strange, and I kind of hope we see her again.
Bonus Thing 2: Hey, are we still using Baby as a gauge for Dean’s wellbeing? Because, uh…she needs some TLC.
Bonus Thing 3: There is a moment during the Miriam v. Dean fight that is fucking amazing blink-and-you’ll-miss-it physical comedy. He picks up a hat tree, she smashes the end off, then smashes it in half, and Dean does this cartoon panic and tosses the pieces up in the air.
Like, seriously. I need to learn to gif for moments like that.
Bonus Thing 4: The universe screamed at Dagon’s death. Presumably it did at Ramiel’s and Azazel’s, too? Guess that’s how Asmodeus gets the memo…
listening to the adventure zone for the first time. I realized at ep. 21 that I wanted to compile some of my favourite qoutes (not just from characters). so here’s that (in no particular order. not even in order of appearance):
“i’m really getting this cleric shit aren’t i”
“I’m not a nerd so I don’t know-” “we’re on a D&D PODCAST”
“let me tell you the story of the time an orc punched me so hard I almost died”
after griffin has been complimented for the quality of the campaign. “let’s wait and see how it ends, though, ‘cause lost seemed pretty good too”
“no i’m a flesh boy”
“YOU’RE MY FATHER. YOU BIRTHED ME.”
“i just don’t understand why me understanding the basic rules of dungeons and dragons is like an unfit way to spend our time”
every time taako mocked jenkins not using spell slots
“I have a beating heart! i’m- i’m multidimensional! i’m a fully realized creation. Fuck.”
“let me promise you one thing- are we out of the zone of truth?” “yeah you’re long out of it” “everything’s going to be fine”
“my names not jerry its…. jereeeeee”
barabra telling taako (as jerry) he’ll walk him to the bathroom
“the second ruffian-” “give them names” “c-craig…ory?”
“magnus’ quest for vengeance just… ends” “and OURS BEGINS”
“there’s no vine you’ll never be able to not fuck”
“let’s try that again, and you say yes to my fucking bit”
“hot diggity shit, this is a baller cookie”
the entire section where they kept talking when mushrooms were giving off spores at the sound of their voices and kept having to roll constitution saving throws.
“that is your last thought as a two armed man”
everything starting with justin going “i’m going to cast a spell called eldrics black tentacles” and ending with “MY NAMES KRAVITZ”
^side note: kravitz why did you actually give him your name when that was what he was asking
kravtiz “what the fuck is wrong with the three of you” when taako eats that crystal piece
unrelated to the above event “oh no it’s a vore thing!”
“tell julia i said i love her”
“how’s elvis?” “…still alive”
“it sounds like you’ve given me an even better lesson- a new mystery to solve!” “oh fuck”
Unlucky Nine: A list of antis you may or may not have encountered in the vld fandom
Start Note: When I mention [Ship Name] Anti, it means a shipper of that ship who is also anti of another ship mentioned depending on the context as opposed to Anti-[Ship Name] which is someone who is an anti of the ship mentioned.
I. “Ship K/ance or Sha//ura or my ship instead” anti
These antis are just assholes. They insult other ships that contend to their own. These antis are prevalent in Sheith, Kallura and sometimes Shidge tags.
You get K/ance antis calling Sheith yaoi culture but then they totally change Keith and Lance’s character to fit the same trope. I was so pissed the other day because someone took Lance and just shoved Uke™ on him to fit an AU where he crushes on Keith.
You got K/ance & Sha//ura antis calling Kallura heteronormative but we aren’t the ones who’re forcing a mom troupe on her despite her not being really motherly. (Hunk is the mom friend but let us forget the fat character for aesthetics) You get them saying they love Allura but her story line, which focuses on her duty and willingness to sacrifice anything for it, is shoved for some romance. (Allura, although possibly having some romantic take to it, did not save Shiro because she had a fucking crush on him. She saved him because he needed saving and she viewed his role to Voltron as more important than hers.Stop acting like it is a canon romantic scene. No real scene in Voltron is really inherently romantic.)
You got K/ance shouting if Kallura happens, there won’t be any representation (m/m) but we still got Shiro, Lance and Hunk. Yes, we still got Shunk, Shance and Hance. if we go poly, there is Shunce. And if we dig deeper and you are willing, add Coran into the mix(I’m shoran trash undeniably).
You got them saying Shidge is wrong but the most official thing we got is actually the OFFICIAL Voltron site (whose content probably was made known to the entire crew and was advertised to the general public) saying ‘5 teens.’ But let us dwell on a half-baked video where a person throws numbers into some of the crew’s mouths. Let us not dwell on how Allura has no one bit of an age meter. For all we know, she could be a centuries old Alien. But sure why not, dwell on Shidge.
They put their ships on high pedestals to trample on other ships but you are probably a hateful bitch when you call them out on their shit.
II. “Shiro is spacedad” anti (bonus points for Allura as space mom)
These antis believe Shiro is a grandpa. They seem him as a father figure which would have been okay because let us admit that at some point the space dad joke were funny UNTIL PEOPLE TOOK THEM SERIOUSLY. Unlike the typical fan who laugh at the jab, these people take things to far and actually think it is canon. Shiro is actually a dad. “How dare you hc Shiro as a young and vulnerable character instead of my perfect space dad™?” All that crap.
But if you remember Prisoner Shiro, Kerberos Shiro, he looks pretty young. If you change back his hair before the frosty tips, remove the scar and the buff bara bod (he probably got from fighting in the ring), you wouldn’t find him looking wise beyond his years.
Coupled with Canon™ Space Mom Allura, it just pisses me off. Allura is enigmatic, a bit impulsive but her impulses are mostly practical, not afraid to jump into action, a bit bossy and domineering at times, yes, but deep down inside Allura is just a princess who wants her life back, who wants to live in peace with pretty things like her Altean flowers, who wants to go shopping for sparkly things, and maybe experiment with cute hairstyles.
This is why it kinda pisses me off. The idea was cute. Heck, I made an entire Sha//ura au once with my friend with the whole vld family thing but when they just pushed for it on discourse and acted like it was some holy canon grail, I was just really seven levels of salt.
III. “Pidge is like 4 months old” anti
These antis just infatalize Pidge. “Pidge is a kid. She can’t make romance decision. Pidge is practically a baby. How dare u” and all that shit. But it is totally fine for someone you see as a ‘kid’ to be flying an alien warship and engaging in an intergalactic war? Same goes for those who infantalize other Paladins. The logic is flawed enough but something else really pissed me off in this one.
My main concern with this is that the blatant forcefulness that Pidge is young because she has all the stereotypical looks of younger people. It undermines short girls who never grow up to be tall and developed upfront. Some people never get hit with puberty right. I was thirteen and 5′1 and now I’m nineteen and guess what? 5′1.5. Where is the justice puberty? You didn’t hit me up. You just poked me with a stick once and left.
And just the other day, guess what? I was again assumed to be like fourteen, especially since I was standing right next to my tree of a younger brother who is like sixteen. I probably would be rich right now if i had a dollar for every single person who thought I was fourteen. Pidge may look young by stereotypical standards, sure. But that doesn’t mean she is. She could just be a short 19 year old.
The concept of child-coded is bullshit. I mean look, I look, by stereotypical anti standard, like a fourteen year old therefore when tall people my age or older (who coincidentally also fit the stereotypical adult look standard) theoretically like me, we are perpetuating pedophilia. If we start dating, since they are adult-coded and I’m child-coded, it’s almost as if it is already pedophilia.
If anything, the infantalization of Pidge showed me that people, yes I repeat, people will continue to be misogynistic to women who do not fit the stereotype of what a woman should be. I mean, when did height and cupsize amount to a woman’s age and maturity as a person? It just says you have to fit this shitty standard to be something and to be recognized and that is fucking bullshit.
Oh well, to the antis, I guess I’ll be a minor forever. And to end this segment with another one of your fave defenses, “I”M MINOR-CODED AND CHILD-CODED SO YOU CAN’T ATTACK ME UWU”
IV. “Shiro’s trauma is an issue” anti
This is by far the one of the things I’ve seen. These people say that because Shiro experienced some traumatizing shit, he is not eligible for a relationship with any of the Paladins. It basically says that because Shiro has ptsd, he can’t date anyone who is potentially(meaning they see this character as young or immature and they aren’t actually as such) less mature™ or younger than he is. It basically says that since Shiro has ptsd, he must be toxic by default. It thrives upon the logic that anyone with mental health issues is gonna be toxic in relationships. (except Sha//ura cuz apparently Shiro who they call toxic in all other relationships isn’t toxic there)
V. “go fucking kill yourself” anti
No explanations needed. Assholes with no regard for human life. Suicide baiting, Gas lighting, you name it. Best thing to do is just block these. No arguing with them.
VI. “I’m a minor/survivor/minority group so I am allowed to be an asshole to anyone” anti
These are the people who go and attack others but when you call them out on their shit, they go like “but we are a minor/survivor/part of a minority.”
I’m only gonna say this once so listen well. (Who am I kidding? I’ve stressed this so much.) Being a minor/survivor/minority does not excuse you from being an asshole. You can experience terrible things and be like fourteen but you can still be an asshole. It does not give you a free pass to ruin other people’s lives. Get that inside your head. Someone can be depressed and still be an asshole. Someone can be autistic and still be an asshole. Someone can be gay and still be an asshole. Someone can be part of a general minority group and still be an asshole. Their status as a minor/minority/survivor DOES NOT make them an asshole but this specific person, who coincidentally fits in a certain group, is just an asshole. Their status is merely circumstantial and not the root of their being an asshole therefor it must not be used as an excuse for them to be one.
VII. “Shaladin is okay except for Shidge ft. Ship Sh/att instead” anti
I’m like WHY? These antis act like they are allies and they are good™ but they throw Shidge under the bus and vilify it to somehow make other shaladin ships appeal to the anti standards. You draw the line in Shidge? Well, I draw the line in vilifying ships to put yours on a pedestal. I would’ve understood if it was just basic ‘I don’t like Shidge’ but no, it has to rhyme with the anti logic of infantalizing her and all those things.
And don’t let me get started on Sh/att. Cuz it just shattered all the hope of me getting into this ship. This was good, old friends trope, I couldn’t save you trope. You name it. It has all the layers of angst that normally i would dive into. But the shippers use the same rhetoric shaladin antis use on Shidge. “It’s shidge but gay” Do you know how misogynistic you sound? And how dare you think I ship my ship because ‘aesthetics uwu’.
The idea of throwing Shidge out to appeal to the antis like some sacrificial lamb is just anti rhetoric itself. “It’s okay if one ships takes the fall for us.” It’s just pointing fingers at someone, in this case some ship. And honestly, that sucks.
VIII. “I’m gonna misuse social justice to call you all these names and not appreciate social justice when it is working against me” anti
These antis are those who try to shit on ships by appealing to twisted social justice but the moment actual social justice works against them, they try to ignore it and you just know, it was never a social issue to begin with.
A perfect example of this are the “Bi Lance for K/ance” antis. They shout and tell the world,”we got Bi Lance, we got a bi character in our ship. Whoop Whoop representation” but moment someone goes “oh nice, I ship Lance with Allura/Pidge/Nyma/Plaxum/any girl in existence.” They jump at you and call you cis het scum or whatever. But Lance is Bi right? Don’t Bi people like umm girls too???? Yes??? Do you know what a bi is?????
You see, they actually don’t care about bi representational at all unless it is used to put their ships up. And don’t get me started on the hate for ‘Bi Keith.’ I know the idea of Gay Keith is a fan fave but Bi Keith is a possibility. Like Bi Lance is everything to the universe but you are suddenly Zarkon if you as much think about Bi Keith. You love bi representation so much don’t you?
Oh and the antis who go like “we are protecting survivors and minors” just as they attack survivors and minors. Good job on the protecting.
Everything these antis do is just plain crap. When you untangle their twisted social justice and see the ulterior motives, you see their actions for what they are, personal vendettas against shippers, attacks so that whatever shitty ship they have gets to trample on other ships.
IX. “fiction is reality” anti
These are just antis who thrive on the idea that fictitious content is actually reality and therefore every dark-themed content is evil.
Tell me why I’m not marking Priests with hot iron stamps fresh from flames and killing them? I read Angels and Demons. Tell me why I’m not suddenly killing humans and eating them? I watched Hannibal. Tell me how I haven’t butchered the person I like? I watched School Days + Higurashi and I was like thirteen, a minor yes, at the time. Tell me how I’m not suddenly taking people in strange boats and making them go through hell, I was eight, a fucking kid, I watched Jigoku Shoujo (Hell Girl). They are unanswerable because fiction is in fact not reality.
The idea that fiction is reality is just the same as how way back four or so years ago, there was a backlash in gaming like with fighting and guns because it supposedly perpetuates violence and supposedly hypnotizes people. And you know how stupid that idea is? That is how stupid the idea that ‘fiction’ is reality’ in fandom is.
And if you actually do think fiction is reality, I suggest you seek medical help.
End Note: Antis may appeal to other forms of attacks or a mix of these but you guys stay strong and safe.
A/n: This is an updated version of an imagine I’ve previously uploaded. I know Hendall is so 2015. I get it.
Masterlist linked in bio.
The red wine leaves a particular stain on Harry’s lips that he hadn’t noticed until Kendall pointed it out to him.
“It looks like you’re wearing lipstick” she laughs, “I didn’t know you were going to dress up this much for the party.”
They are currently sat at his mum’s kitchen island, drinking red wine while munching on some chips left out for the guests. The house is filled with familiar faces, friends and family all throughout London coming together for Anne’s birthday celebration.
They hosted one every year for as long as Harry could remember, a time of year where nearly every one of his family members, including his step family, would unite. It was their favorite time of year, believe it or not. Despite all the excitement for the holidays, Anne’s birthday celebration was certainly something special.
It was Kendall’s first time attending, considering the fact that Harry had only really talked to her whenever he was assigned to be with her for publicity. It wasn’t always ideal, however, he built a stable friendship with her, so he didn’t mind the extra company with him from time to time.
She was invited last minute, of course, since his management called last night to ask if there was any way for them to be seen together. With Harry’s new movie coming out and his solo album just released a couple weeks ago, it was almost a given for him to be rumored with a girlfriend. That’s how it’s worked all throughout his career.
He normally wouldn’t have minded, however, this was the worst possible date for him to be with Kendall.
Because it’s Anne’s birthday party, this means that it’ll be the first time in one year that he’ll be seeing Y/n. They have been best friends since they were five years old, basically growing up in the same house as they went through school together. But as time went on, and as they both went to their separate ways, it was hard to keep in touch with each other all the time.
She remained in the small towns of London while Harry was traveling world wide, where his name became known everywhere as Y/n’s was only known through people she attended school with. Of course, they still talked, considering they both admitted to having more than friendship feelings, but their lives were busy in their own ways, preventing them from being more than what they wanted to be.
For the past couple months, Harry planned that this would be the day he’d finally move forward with Y/n. Or, at least attempt to. With the loss of her over the past year, it made Harry realize just how much he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It had been so long—too long, and he couldn’t stand how long he’s lived without keeping in touch with her.
But now, everything he planned for the two of them is becoming impossible. He can’t begin to imagine how Y/n would feel knowing he brought Kendall to his mum’s birthday party after they both confessed their love for each other. In all honesty, he wouldn’t blame her for giving up on him. He keeps doing this to her, even if it’s unintentional.
He watches around the kitchen at the guests he hasn’t seen in quite a while. His leg bounces with impatience when each new person walking in to attend the party isn’t Y/n. It’s been nearly an hour and has never been so late to anything before.
And as horrible as it sounds, he almost wishes she doesn’t come, just so that she can avoid the heartbreak that will come when she reunites with Kendall again.
“I’m sorry I’m late!”
Harry’s head whips around when he hears the voice he’s been deprived of for the past year. The first thing he notices are her lips, and the way they move around her words so softly. They’re slightly glazed with a lipgloss, painting her lips with a rosy shade of pink. They look so much fuller to him now, but he knows not a trace of them are artificial.
His eyes only drift from the shape of her lips when her fingers reach to tuck loose pieces of hair behind her ear. It’s then he notices just how much shorter her hair has gotten. What was once so long and lank is now falling just above the shoulder, set in luscious curls he can only imagine twisting around his fingers.
His jaw goes slack when he sees the pale pink dress she’s wearing. It’s made from silk, the metallic fabric glowing with each step she takes. He gulps when he notices just how much the dress accentuates the curvature of her body and how much of her legs are put on display for him to see, and he can’t help but to wipe the sweat off his palms when he watches her greet his mother with a proper kiss on the cheek.
He notices that his eyes haven’t shut since he’s seen her, but he’s so completely intrigued by how much has changed in her. Something about her seems so much more real—so much more vibrant—and he can’t seem to stop himself from praising how time has done her so goddamn well.
“You never told me she was going to be here.“
His body jerks at Kendall’s sudden appearance, her body slowly occupying the seat next to his at the kitchen island. If it wasn’t for her, he swears he would have caught himself drooling.
“Didn’t think I had to,” he says with a shrug, “she’s been my best friend since we were five. She’s basically apart of this family, she wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
Y/n hasn’t missed a single one of Anne’s birthday celebrations since she’s known Harry. Their bond is irreplaceable—so irreplaceable, in fact, that Anne has been convinced Y/n is a miracle for their family. She was there for them through all the troubled times; helping them through their hardships and family instabilities.
When Anne and her husband first got divorced, Harry and Y/n were seven. Harry didn’t understand much of what was happening, all he knew was that his mum and dad weren’t going to love each other anymore. He was hurting, even when Gemma was there to try and keep him together. He started to believe everything between his parents was a lie.
She understood the whole separation process. Her mum left her at a young age, leaving her alone with her father. They were close, of course, but she always missed having a mother figure in her life. It made her upset to know she could only listen to one voice in the house, but as she grew older, she accepted it more.
By the time she met Harry, he kept bringing her over to his house as the years went on. Anne was the closest she had to mother, and their bond became unbreakable by the time Y/n was a teenager. Nearly seven years of Y/n being like another member of the family, Y/n started buying Anne Mother’s Day cards.
So when Y/n watched her second family fall apart, along with Anne’s heart, and she was determined to patch them back together again. Even at her young age, she’d pick flowers from her garden and give them to Anne everyday after school. Y/n said they represented her, and how she felt being a woman with such love and beauty could die all too quickly. Harry never understood what it meant, but Y/n did, which is why she never stopped until she heard Anne laughing again.
She also started to draw pictures and write her letters, reminding her of how loved she was by everyone. As much as Anne was heartbroken during the time, she took the letters everywhere she went and kept every flower alive for as long as she possibly could. Anne would always tell Harry “That girl came into our lives for a reason, my love. She’s a special one, our little miracle, never let her go. You hear me?”
Harry didn’t understand what it truly meant to let someone go, but he did his best to do anything but that. And now, as Harry sits on his mother’s kitchen island and seeing Y/n for the first time in a year, he feels he’s done just that.
“Guess not.” Kendall mutters, taking her last sip of the red wine left in her glass. “She’s just so strange, I guess. I can barely hold a conversation with her without her making an excuse to leave.”
Kendall and Y/n never really got along, it was extremely noticeable to everyone who held a conversation with the both of them. They just don’t see things in the same light. Y/n is very outgoing and lively; an extreme extrovert that seeks adventure—and Kendall can’t stand it. She thinks Y/n does it for attention, especially because she’s remained a small town girl while being surrounded by well-known celebrities. And even though it may seem like Y/n likes the attention, that’s not her purpose. She gives all her attention to others, never to herself, and it has always been something Harry loved the most.
And when it comes to Y/n, Kendall was that one thing that was constantly in her way of Harry. No matter how many times Harry and Y/n discussed how there was something between them, Kendall always found her way back to haunt her. She was her worst goddamn nightmare. She was perfect for Harry in the public eye, and nothing made Y/n feel worse than knowing she’ll never be her type of perfect, especially when it came to Harry.
But Kendall doesn’t know that. All she knows is that Y/n is extremely stand-offish with her, and she’ll never understand why.
“She’s not used to our lives. It’s extremely difficult for her to understand how we live, you know? She’s normal.”
Kendall scoffs, eyes rolling around the room because she hates that word. She feels so divided, like she’s in a categorization in society and everything about it makes her teeth clench.
“We’re normal, too, you know. I don’t understand why she feels so intimated and feels like she has something to prove.”
Harry’s jaw clenches slightly at the negative connotes Kendall has about Y/n’s life. Something about it makes his stomach twist the wrong way, and he can’t help the underlying growl in between his words.
“We’re not normal. Deep down, you and I both know that. You also don’t know Y/n, so stop making irrational assumptions about her.”
Kendall narrows her eyes at Harry, a gaze full of confusion and disbelief at the undeniable grumble in his tone. Any rational conversation they have about Y/n always end the same—with Harry quick to end the discussion and jump to her defense. It’s times like these Kendall never understood the true extent of Harry and Y/n’s relationship. They always claimed it was platonic but there has always been a sense of something stronger in them, like unaddressed or unchased feelings, or a past they shared that was kept between the two.
Either way, it annoyed the shit out of Kendall because they both were hiding something that she’ll never be able to get answered.
“Fine, whatever.” She sighs dramatically, scooting her chair back until she has room to stand properly. “Want some more wine? Getting some.”
Harry slides his empty wine glass so that it’s in front of her, muttering a small “yeah, thanks” before she’s on her way to the counter across the room, retrieving extra wine and mingling with some of Harry’s family.
Harry sighs while his head rests at the palm of his hand, eyes gazing directly to where Y/n is standing. His lips tug up lightly when he hears her laugh from the living room, his tongue running over his bottom lip ever so slightly as he watches her mouth lift and her eyes squint shut as she catches up with one of his uncles about his grand annual weekend fishing trip.
And as his eyes stay so transfixed on the woman in the other room, he can’t help but imagine seeing that type of perfection every day for the rest of his life.
“And everyone thinks Sweet Creature is about me..”
Harry’s head snaps to Gemma’s figure leaning over the edge of the island, her elbows hitched on the counter as a small smirk plays on her lips. She found it abnormally amusing how he didn’t even acknowledge her presence until she spoke, too invested in hawking over Y/n’s every move.
Harry grumbles, but the smile from Y/n’s laughter is permanent on his lips when he does so. Gemma even notices his cheeks brighten with pink, another hint of confirmation to the words she spoke.
“Shut up, Gem.“
She puts her arms up defensively, “Hey, don’t take it out on me. I’m just making an observation.”
Harry rolls his eyes as Gemma wraps her arm around his neck, hunching over so that her lips are close to his ear and eyes are directed toward Y/n again.
“She has gotten hotter, hasn’t she?”
She has no idea. All Harry can think about is how someone already so beautiful has grown to be so perfect. Everything about her makes Harry want to get down on his knees and worship every inch of her body. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from thinking how much of a wreck he wants to make out of her.
“I don’t know how she did it. You better get her while you still have the chance, I know many, many men who want a taste of her.”
No is the first thing Harry thinks when the words leave from Gemma’s mouth. As hypocritical and selfish as it is, knowing other men have shown an interest in her makes his skin crawl. And he can’t help but feel his throat tighten at the moment Y/n realizes he had brought Kendall to this party.
“Is she—“ he can’t even finish his sentence without his jaw tightening again, hindering the rest of his question from leaving his lips.
“Oh, quit your worrying, H. She’s single, I don’t think she’d ever date someone who isn’t you. Besides, I don’t think you can do much about it with Kendall here.”
Gemma lifts a finger to where Kendall is standing, still in the same spot as she talks to his aunt Leslie. His heart hurts knowing what Y/n will feel when she finds out. He knows that there is always a part of her that feels discouraged whenever there’s a new woman in his life. In between Harry and Y/n’s love for each other was a mix of false hopes and miscommunication, and it always fucked them up whenever anything else was put in their way.
Gemma pats his shoulder before making rounds to her family and friends again, leaving Harry slumped against the counter with not a drop of wine to numb his scrambling mind.
When Y/n finishes catching up with the rest of Harry’s family, she finds that her patience is wearing thin. It’s been a year since she’s seen the love of her life, and knowing that he’s somewhere near her is enough to get her heart racing.
When she sees him sitting alone at the kitchen island, wearing his infamous pink suit and staring down at his fingers, it’s as if her body starts to malfunction. Her legs stop moving and her lips part, eyes glistening with admiration as she sees him for the first time in so long.
He’s as beautiful as ever, his new haircut accentuating his facial structure. His lips seem so much more red, too, which are complimented greatly by that goddamn suit. Everything about him radiates, like he’s developed into a whole other person. She’ll never quite grasp the idea that she’s about to reunite with him; something about it makes her palms sweat.
Harry lifts his head up to look at her in all her glory. His heart warms at her presence more than the wine did, and he can’t help but to take a breath of relief when he finally hears her voice again.
“Y/n.” He breathes out, his fingers instinctively reaching up to the ends of her cut hair.
He chokes out a laugh of admiration when he sees her this close to him. She is so much different—so much more perfect than he ever remembers her being and it takes his breath away.
His fingers twist her hair, wrapping them around the digits before letting the strands fall back in place again. He never saw her without her hair down to her waist, and now that he has, he never wants to see her hair past her shoulders again.
“It’s so beautiful” he whispers, “you look so beautiful like this, Y/n. I absolutely love it.”
She blushes, her chin tucking slightly into her neck as if trying to hide how much of a reaction he got out of her. No matter how many years she’s known him, she was never used to the way he spoke to her.
“It was spontaneous. Really wanted a change, and it looks like I’m not the only one.”
Her hands reach to his hair, which is so much shorter compared to the last time she saw him. She remembered she couldn’t keep her hands out of it last year, constantly finding ways to tangle her fingers at the ends. Harry found it hysterical, actually, and thought it was the cutest thing she’s ever done.
“It’s just so soft” she’d say, “it’s like a whole other world in there!”
But now her only option is to tangle her fingers at the roots, and as she does so, her mind drifts to all the other occasions she could have her hands in his hair again.
“It’s so much shorter. Look at that! I can barely tug on it anymore!” She laughs in amusement, her fingers slipping as she pulls too hard.
He smirks up at her, a giggle falling from his lips as he watches her utterly amused reaction. They begin to catch up with the part of their lives they both have missed. Harry talked about his album while Y/n started discussing her new journalism job.
Talking to Y/n is one of the only normal parts of him left, it always gave him a sense of grounding whenever he felt his career was taking off to heights he wasn’t ready for. She is one of the only sense of normality he has left in his life, and it’s another reason as to why he admires her so dearly. She brought out parts of him nobody else could reach, and it’s another reason why he feels so upset he’s barely talked to her.
“Y/n?” he asks hesitantly, reaching his hand over so that his fingertips graze her hand.
Her breath breaks when he touches her, the softness in his voice proving that what is about to be discussed is far more important than their previous conversation. She notices the stress lines in between his forehead and the parting of his wine stained lips when he begins to speak.
“I’m so sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you. I know how it makes me look, especially after everything that happened between us. With the new album and everything, I’ve just been so busy with—“
Harry’s head jumps to where Y/n stares dumbfounded, Kendall holding two glasses of wine in one hand while the other is carrying a plate of chicken wings. She’s looking down at Y/n, too, her eyebrows lifted up in an intimidating manner. There’s a scowl present on her lips as she continues to tower over her.
Y/n feels tears building in her eyes as she takes in the situation at hand. She was so fucking dumb to think that Harry was going to come to Anne’s party alone, especially since his new album just released. This is Kendall’s prime time appearance, when Harry needs a familiar famous face beside him to advertise his solo career.
This isn’t anything new—this isn’t anything unfamiliar, but the pain feels like a fresh wound to her heart. Harry and Y/n are nearly 24, with having known each other and felt something for each other for years, she thought that if anything were going to happen, it was going to happen now. But everything between them has remained stagnant for so long that the last sliver of hope she had for their potential relationship has been completely taken away from her. By Kendall, again.
“W—Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know Harry had invited you.”
“Yeah,” Kendall nods, “he invited me last night.”
Y/n’s lips purse together, nodding her head as her eyes drift around the kitchen. Anything to avoid Kendall’s eyes—anything to feel as unimportant as she does now.
Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, a small hissing releasing from his tongue at how wrong it all sounds, considering absolutely nothing happened between Harry and Kendall the previous night besides being demanded that the two of them are to be seen together again.
“Right,” Y/n’s voice cracks, “well, I’m sorry to interrupt your time together. I’m going to go to Gemma’s room, got a phone call from my dad a while ago so I should go check up on him. I’ll see you guys around.”
She musters up a pathetic smile before practically running away from them. After everything they both told each other, after all the feelings they’ve had toward each other, how could Harry keep doing this to her? How could he keep being with Kendall when he says he loves Y/n?
She doesn’t even find the strength in her to hold in her tears before she approaches the steps, not daring to look back at them again. She never wants to see them in the same room again, it’ll be too much her heart can handle.
“You’ve really got to be fucking kidding me, Kendall.” Harry growls.
His hands fist around the wine glass, his knuckles turning white and he’s absolutely shocked it hasn’t shattered into pieces in his hands from all the anger pulsing through his veins.
“Jesus, Harry, neither one of you can take a joke. Does she not understand that all of this is for the press? She keeps acting like we’re a couple.”
“Could you really blame her after that? ‘He invited me last night,’ you’re really getting a kick out of making her uncomfortable, aren’t you?”
He grumbles as he takes a long sip of his wine, hoping that the alcohol loosens his muscles enough to restrain himself from doing anything he regrets. He loves his mum too much to start an argument during her birthday party, and as much as Kendall’s shifting Harry’s mood, he still appreciates her as a friend to ruin anything.
“That wasn’t even my fault, you both dug into that way too deep. Last night does not mean while we were fucking. It’s a time of day.”
“It’s the way you said it.”
“Are you being serious, Harry?”
He slams his glass down on the island, grumbling under his breath while he stands up from his chair. No matter how much anger is in him now, the only thoughts swirling in his brain are wondering if Y/n’s okay. She would have never left the party to go into a secluded room, not even if her dad called her.
“You leave her the fuck alone, Kendall. I mean it.”
He storms away from her, desperate to find Y/n because God only knows what’s really happening in that bedroom. Y/n’s emotions and feelings are always positive, always so bright, and he refuses to be the reason they turn upside down. She doesn’t deserve all he keeps doing to her, she doesn’t deserve him.
When Harry nearly swings himself onto the first step, he can already hear the soft murmur of Y/n’s and Anne’s voice, which makes him stop from approaching them any more than he has already.
“Y/n? Y/n, darling?” Anne asks with worry when she sees Y/n climbing up the top step with tears in her eyes, soft cries falling from her throat as her hand attempts to silence them.
She reaches an arm out for her, tugging at the front of Y/n’s dress slightly to get her attention. She’s grateful it was Anne who found her this way instead of any other guest at the party, considering nobody besides her and Harry have seen her with a frown on her face.
“Y/n, baby, what’s going on with you?”
The lights are off in the hallway, with no guests permitted in the area, which gives Y/n the proper time to fully allow her tears to fall down her cheeks.
“I’m so s—sorry, Anne.” Y/n cries.
Anne’s hands rub her shoulders, reassuring her that there’s absolutely nothing for her to apologize for. It also lets her know that she’s willing to listen to her, no matter where or when—she’ll always be there.
“I’m almost 24, Anne, and I’ve put so much of my life on hold for him.”
She knows instantly who Y/n’s talking about. It wasn’t difficult to notice the undying connection between Y/n and her son, especially as the years went on. They have grown so strongly together, there has never been a doubt in Anne’s mind that Y/n is going to be the girl Harry ends up marrying. Everyone in the family called it a destiny waiting to happen, but it has been so long since anything has happened between them, and Anne can’t help but feel heartbroken to know Y/n’s carrying the wrong idea about him and Kendall.
“And I’ve sacrificed so m—much to continue waiting for him, but I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore. We’re nowhere near where we should be, especially when he keeps spending time with Kendall and I just—I just don’t know if I can—“
“Oh, my darling.” Anne sighs, cradling Y/n’s head against her shoulder as she rubs down her back.
She shushes her through her tears, rocking her slightly in an attempt to calm her from her cries. It’s extremely rare for Y/n to feel upset, so when she does so, Anne knows she deserves all the comfort and love she can get.
“I know you so well, and I know my son. I always knew you were a match made in heaven, my dear. I knew from the start you were more than just an ordinary girl. You’re so special, to everyone in our family, but especially to him. He may not have his head screwed on right most of the time, but if I can promise you anything with all my heart, it’s that he loves you. Please, no matter what, never forget that.”
Y/n nods against her shoulder, thanking her through her violent cries before Anne insists she takes some time to herself. And as much as Y/n wanted to refrain from going into Harry’s bedroom, it’ll be the only place that brings her a sense of comfort.
Harry already knows he’s in for a lecture the second he sees his mum coming down the stairs with bewildered eyes. She grips his shoulders, her face tight with frustration.
“You go over to her and you be the man I taught you to be, Harry.”
Harry’s eyes widen at her words, swallowing thickly at the thought of disappointing another person in his life.
“She loves you and you love her. Stop doing favors for other people and start thinking about you before you ruin both of your lives forever. You hear me?”
Harry nods feverishly, determined and more motivated than ever to fix all that he’s caused. Love comes first, always, and he needs to remember that before he breaks Y/n’s heart completely.
She’s it. She’s all that matters to him.
He barely responds to Anne before he’s racing to his old bedroom, completely clueless as to what he’s going to say, but willing to do anything to get her back.
“Y/n?” Harry calls through the door of his old bedroom. “Y/n, can I come in?”
He knocks on the door lightly, just using the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. He hears her feet pad over to the door, opening it to reveal her tear stained cheeks. Her hands are trembling against the knob, her breath broken with soft, gentle cries. Her eyes are widened with sadness, wet and red from tears she barely ever cries.
“Y/n.” He whimpers, tentatively reaching his shaking fingers up to her cheeks. He wipes away the tears from the bottoms of her eyes, sighing upsettingly as her eyes close at his touch. “Never seen you like this. Please talk to me.”
Her lips quiver as another sob rips through her, her hand reaching up to capture his between her fingers. Her saddened and wet eyes looking down at the intertwined hands now resting against her lap.
“I’m so tired, H.” She whimpers, “So tired.”
His lips press against her forehead, “I know, love. I know.”
She wraps her arms around him, her face burying in between his chest as he lets her tears soak in his undershirt.
“I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I’d finally be alone with you after all this time. I missed being close to you, I wanted to be closer to you and I thought you felt the same about me and I didn’t understand, Harry, I didn’t get it and—“
“Hey, relax for me.” Harry mumbles, his lips grazing tenderly along her cheek.
She takes a deep breath, her fingers fisting the back of his suit tighter in her fists. She rests her chin on the top of his chest, tears still roaming down her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh. Her fingertips trace patterns on his back, her eyes fluttering closed as he pushes some of her hair off of her face, refraining them from sticking to her wet cheeks.
“I didn’t get it,” she whispers, “I was so confused, and when you didn’t answer my calls or texts I thought you didn’t find me important. And I was under no right to be upset about it, because you’re busy and you have priorities. But when I saw you today, I didn’t see you as the Harry I always have, I still can’t tell you what I saw but I wanted every part of you more than I ever have before. But when I saw Kendall I—“
Her cries and words die down when she feels Harry’s tender lips against hers. She’s taken aback at first, and before she has any time to really kiss him back, he’s already pulled away.
“Let me fix this.” He breathes out, “let show you that I only want you.”
His lips press against the side of her mouth, not allowing himself to kiss her the way he wants to until she lets him. They then begin to travel down her neck, along her jaw, around her mouth.
Y/n’s breath is stiff as he does so, embracing the feeling of his mouth against her skin. They’ve only ever kissed a handful of times, none of them being passionate or loving. They’ve shared pecks while saying goodbyes or after confessing their feelings, but none quite like this—none quite like the one anticipating to happen.
His breathing his hard when he continues to kiss along her skin, his fingers moving longly in her hair the more his mouth presses against her.
“Will you let me?” He whispers when his lips are ghosting over hers, “this okay?”
She nods feverishly, hitting the point of desperation when she feels his breath fan over the skin of her face. She’s been needing this for far too long now.
His thumb runs over her bottom lip one, two, three times before he finally leans in. Their lips mush together passionately, only breaking apart to move their position before locking again. Their tongues meet in the middle, making the both of them moan at the unfamiliar spark coursing through their veins.
Harry walks toward his bed until Y/n’s knees hit the edge of it, making her back meet the mattress. Their lips haven’t detached once, not daring to break away from the feeling they’ve both been deprived of.
They’re both making out on Harry’s childhood bed, grinding onto each other half naked like two hormonal teenagers. Their clothes thrown across the room, lips swollen from all the suction and nibbling, and hair completely knotted from either of their fingertips, the party below them long forgotten.
“Wait, wait wait wait!” Y/n gasps, lifting herself off of his chest.
Harry’s chest rises and falls rapidly, trying to catch his breath as he looks up at Y/n in confusion. He watches as a smirk lifts from her lips as she peers down at his flushed face, giggling slightly at his complete fucked out appearance.
She notices that his lips remained stained from the red wine—a little faded—but still making her body weak at the sight of it.
“’s the matter?” He croaks.
His voice is thick—an entirely different level of raspy, and Y/n wonders how she’s lived so long without hearing him speak in that way. Between all the kissing, all the touching, all the moaning, his voice has a particular roughness to it that Y/n could feed off of if she had to.
“We shouldn’t do this, right? I mean, we’re about to fuck during your mum’s birthday party. Your entire family and Kendall are downstairs, anybody could walk in at any second, or hear us, and your mum could find that so disrespectful and—“
Her rambling is interrupted by his lips, meeting hers passionately between her words.
There is no way in hell he’s leaving this room tonight. Everything that’s been stagnant between them is finally moving in the right direction, and he can’t find it anywhere in him to walk away from it.
“You think I’m letting you go now?” He whispers, his thumb running along her bottom lip. “I have been waiting for this moment with you since high school, sweetheart.”
His lips reattach to her neck, sucking on spots he hasn’t already left marks on, soaking up every bit of the time he has with her before it’s over. This is the first time they’re going to make love, and he wants to feel and remember every bit of this moment.
“B—But your mum—“ She moans, her fingers nearly tangling at the ends of his hair as she hisses in pleasure from his tongue.
“Every single person downstairs knows about us. This—this happening right now, has been expected to happen since I first brought you home. I guarantee you, nothing will make her more happy than knowing her son and his future wife are finally acting on our feelings instead of pushing them to the side again.”
His words make Y/n blush like no other; her cheeks turning the shade of pink on her dress she wore previously. It’s then he notices just hot fucking pretty she is in pink, how every tint of the color compliments her in ways he can barely wrap his head around.
“Future wife, hm?” She smirks, tapping the pads of her fingers against his bare collarbones.
He kisses her again.
“Thought you knew that, love. Wouldn’t know a single soul I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” His fingers dig into her hips, “’s always been you.“
Y/n pushes Harry’s back against the mattress again, trailing her fingers down his torso. She giggles when his teeth clench at her touch, finding it almost irresistible to embrace the way he responds to her touch so easily.