she lost her father

I met the coolest woman the other day. This is Melissa. A woman who took over 50 years to be true to herself. I happen to crave a mimosa the other day and I happen to live right near a bar so I walked on in. Sat by myself, so did she. People were giving odd looks. She matched head to toe. Pink earrings, nails, shoes, dress, the whole nine yards. I complimented her dress and you wouldn’t believe the conversations we had after. About the gay bars in my city, political views, my past, her past, family, what made us, us. She waited until her fifties to come out as a woman. She was in the military, had a wife, kids, the macho man. She explained how over compensation was a huge thing in her life. She explain how she had lost a lot. A wife, her father, three of her kids wouldn’t talk to her. I explained how people’s initial reaction isn’t always their true feelings so give it time. She explained to me that it all just felt right. She has known for years. Her life came to a point where it was “come out or end it”. It truly saddened me. Someone who was a stranger to me but was so kind. Honestly we both just kept saying how happy we were to run into each other’s lives. I want you to all know sometimes kindness is all it takes. This woman felt out of place she said for years and me saying I liked her dress made her realize that she was more herself now than she had ever been. Please be supportive.

anonymous asked:

hey would you ever do a "what if harry potter had been a girl" story? or a trans girl? i don't know how much gender would change things except other people's perceptions but...

Hermione went to the library, when Harry first confided in her. Whatever the faculty, the administration, or the Ministry believed or didn’t believe, the Hogwarts library gave the children what they needed and always would.

Hermione came back with books and books on gender in wizarding history, on the spells and words wizards had used for centuries or decades or mere years, and she and Harry bent their heads together and figured out what words Harry felt best told her story. From her hometown library, after that first summer, Hermione brought back memoirs and brightly-colored pamphlets that Harry read through instead of finishing her Potions homework.

When Harry looked in the Mirror of Erised, she still saw her mother, her father, all her gathered, lost kin. The specter of her father gathered up her hands in his. Her mother pushed back the long dark hair Petunia had always made her cut short and she called her beautiful.

When she looked into it again, after Devil’s Snare and winged keys, giant chess and Ron lying prone on the floor, Hermione wringing her eleven year old hands in the potion riddle room– When Harry looked into the Mirror again, she saw herself, just herself. The girl in the mirror winked and smiled and slipped the Stone in Harry’s pocket. No matter what other wishes and want laid on her narrow shoulders, at the end of the day the thing Harry wanted most was to help. Harry brushed one hand over the lump of rock in her robe pocket, and then brushed her other over her mess of hair, which was feet shorter than the girl in the mirror’s.

She woke up in the hospital wing, bedside table piled high with candy.

Once Harry and Hermione had sussed out between them what the words were for what was going on here, they had explained it to Ron. Harry didn’t come out to anyone else until partway through second year, though, at the height of the Heir of Slytherin nonsense.

She was fed up, then. She just wanted to be left alone, and this wouldn’t help with that, but they were all already staring. Keeping this to herself felt like a vice around her chest. Hogwarts was supposed to be better.

After, Ron came almost to blows with anyone who goggled or sniffed or rolled their eyes. Seamas learned to swallow his tongue. Draco Malfoy didn’t. Hermione wrote up an explanatory note about appropriate pronouns in her best penmanship and then copied it with flicks of her wand. With Harry’s embarrassed permission, she gave it to every professor Harry had or would ever have.

Colin Creevey stopped her in the Great Hall with a tug on her sleeve. She turned, shoulders rising, and the kid said in his piping voice, “You’re still my hero.”

That was better than it could have been, but she wasn’t sure she liked the “still.”

Peeves, though he was nasty about everything else–ickle firsties and orphan girls–got it immediately. For all six years of her Hogwarts tenure, he dropped water balloons on the heads of anyone who misgendered her. Professor Binns never quite figured it out, but he didn’t know any student’s name. Nearly Headless Nick gallantly and somewhat awkwardly called her lady and tried to hold open doors for her, despite the fact that he couldn’t open them.

Snape called Harry “Mr. Potter” for all seven years that he was in Harry’s life. Around year three, Ron stopped counting the detentions he got for his increasingly sarcastic responses to this.

The whispers about the Heir of Slytherin grew louder and louder, keeping pace with “Uh, I thought it was the Boy Who Lived?” Fred and George Weasley took it upon themselves to walk Harry to and from class when they could, talking loudly enough to drown everything out.

Then Hermione got Petrified and the Heir whispers stopped abruptly. Harry, if she hadn’t been busy with Ron trading off reading their assigned textbooks aloud to Hermione in the infirmary, might have felt gratified that the whole school knew how much this bushy-haired kid meant to her. Alright, so they thought she might murder Muggleborns with a mysterious monster, or sic a snake on her opponent in a dueling club? But they knew she wouldn’t hurt Hermione for anything.

In the Chamber, she met Tom Riddle. He was supposed to be her mirror, though she didn’t quite know that yet. He was supposed to be her shadow, the chain around her ankle, the other half (or another eighth) of her story and his soul.

Ginny had been trying to speak for months– to tell someone, to open the diary and the bag under her bed full of chicken-blood-stained robes and to thrust them into the light. But Percy had shushed her, all his assumptions orbiting his own importance to her story. The teachers had patted her on the head. She had been frightened, eleven years old with Tom whispering in her ear, guiding her hands.

Harry had been trying to speak for years– to explain to someone the way she did not feel like Dudley, like Vernon, like the boys in the locker room at school. Hermione had listened. Hermione had given her books and books of people who felt like her. Ron had listened, and taught her wizard’s chess, and kicked Draco in the shins.

But here Harry was, standing alone– a red-haired lump at her feet, dark robes sodden with moldy water. Hermione was frozen. Ron was trapped behind a rock fall and Tom was pacing, gloating, glowing. Ginny was breathing. Ginny had to be breathing. Harry was going to save her. She had to, because no one had listened to the kid, not even Harry.

The phoenix tears left no scars on Harry’s arm. Riddle, the Chamber, the life going out of her, everything that had happened in that long year– none of it left scars on Ginny, or at least none that anyone could see.

When Harry got back to 4 Privet Drive that summer, she suffered through Aunt Petunia’s annual hair cut and then she curled up with Hedwig and wrote a letter. She wrote about the Muggle candies she missed when at Hogwarts, and how her cousin thought she was weird for being excited about summer homework. She asked Ginny how she was.

Ginny wrote back after a long week. She didn’t answer the question, but she wrote about helping Dad on the car, about the apple harvest coming, and Fred and George playing pranks on the ghoul in the attic.

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4

There’s nothing childish about caring.

“I lost my brother and father. I can’t lose you too, Shiro. Come back to me.”

The aftermath of Shiro missing must be hard on Pidge. Not only did she lose her father and brother but she lost her new brother Shiro too. Poor Pidge. 

Woah here’s a thought…

So apparently pink is the Altean colour for mourning/remembering fallen warriors right?

What if the markings on their skin changed colour depending on their moods, or were influenced by incredibly strong emotions?

Like grief.

What if…

Originally posted by undinelance

The Groke

The Groke first appears in Finn Family Moomintroll, as the horrible creature who chases Thingumy and Bob. Her name is also something akin to a curse among all other characters, as they often use it to frighten small children or express how angry they are. At the same time, Moominmamma tells us how it’s not appropriate to talk about The Groke; not about her or to her. If you talk about her, she will get bigger and come after you. It’s best to talk around the subject and ignore her. In a manner The Groke is similiar to Hattifatteners; outsiders who are both strange and threathening. These creatures live in the margins of the proper life and just thinking about them can lead you down the wrong path. Characters like these must have been exciting for Tove to create; she loved all things scary and unknown ever since she was a little girl.


The Groke’s role adjusted as the stories and style changed in the books. First Moomin books are honest children’s stories. Text is more straightforward, action is clear and threaths come from outside. Everything ends happily. Starting from Moominland Midwinter the books take a turn towards more mature story telling and become more targeted towards older audiences (but still keep the child-friendly touch!). In the first books the Groke is one of these outside threaths that must be overcome. She is a monster that comes to the valley, demanding Thingumy and Bob to return her jewel. The Groke can also be seen to represent the law, as she is trying to take away the forbidden love (jewel) from Thingumy and Bob (Tove and Viveca). The Swedish name of The Groke (Mårran) was actually a word Tove and Viveca used to describe hatred towards homosexuality.


In ”Moominland Midwinter” and especially in ”Moominpappa at sea”, The Groke has evolved into a more complex character. She can be seen as the very symbol of loneliness. She is forever cold and always follows the light. The cruelty of her yearning is that whenever she approaches a lantern or a candle she just makes it go out. Moomin event hinks that entire winter must belong to the Groke! Like Moominmamma tells us, The Groke has not truly done anything mean. She is just so cold that it’s impossible to be with her. She also hints that maybe the reason The Groke is like that is because nobody has ever cared about her.


The Groke is a difficult character to determine and even Tove Jansson herself declined to explain her. Many people who have analyzed Moomin books have still been able to see a connection between The Groke and depression. Depression was a familiar guest in the Jansson family and Tove struggled with it her entire life. It’s a topic that is always hidden and much like The Groke, it freezes the warmth. This is most evident in ”Moominpappa and the sea”. Tove wrote the book after her father had passed away. The Groke follows the Moomin family and haunts Moomintroll through the whole book, where her role can be seen to represent the sadness and depression Tove experienced when she lost her father. In the end, the only way to cure The Groke of her coldness is to embrace her. Moomintroll comes to meet her at the beach; this act or caring makes The Groke dance and sing.


After The Groke leaves, Moomintroll touched the sand and realized it’s warm. Tove said that she ”warmed the Groke” in the book.

As a cute sidenote: many readers often wished that Tove would give The Groke a friend. Tove declined because a warm Groke served no literally purpose. But in an answer to one letter she did envision a family for the Groke. She told that there is a herr-mårra (Mr Groke) and when the two Grokes meet, they will become warm. Afterwards they have small groke-children, morits (moriter). These children are warm.

HUMO: You’re a feminist, you have already said that several times. Many young women do not like being associated with feminism, because in their eyes it is a movement that forbids them to wear heels.

Evelyne Brochu: Feminists are the reason that I can vote, and my main concern is not whether I should wear heels or not, but that I might soon lose that acquired right as a woman. That Donald Trump is completely disturbed. The first thing he did as president, was to abolish subsidies for abortion clinics. And isn’t it scary what humiliating statements the most powerful man in the world can make about women? Everybody says: “They are just words.” But words set the motion more often than you think. A man thinks much faster now, “If the most powerful man can say that, it is okay if I say it too.” While women previously where not given the same room as men to be angry, or different, or crazy, a man is admired for those things, “Look how strong he is and what strong opinions he has.” A woman would be called hysterical.

Women are constantly belittled. We are told how we should behave if we want to be loved. That’s my biggest concern. I could care less about those heels.

This is a translation of Ebro’s interview with a Belgium magazine. For the full translated interview keep reading.

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Allow me to rant about Maggie and Sanvers

When we first meet Maggie, we learned three basic things about the character: she’s an out and proud lesbian, she’s a cocky little shit, she cares a lot about people. For a while, this is all we had to hold on to. Maggie’s layers were added painstakingly slowly, and you had to pay attention to see what they were. Looking back, the traits that made Maggie Sawyer the woman we love, were always there, we just didn’t know it.

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YouTuber playing Life is Strange, talking about Chloe Price

“To have friends like that, better not have them”

I strongly disagree…

…and I’ll explain why.

As a person who has had a lot of different friends, I find in Chloe a friend who I always wanted to have.

Chloe is a person with a difficult character. She is angry because she lost her father and her girlfriend. She feels lonely and she always tries to blame someone else when something doesn’t work out for her (this means that she is proud but insecure). She has her rage on, we all know it and maybe some of you hate that about her (I can’t include myself because I’d be hypocrite as I have my rage on too).

BUT

She will do whatever needs to be done for a friend.

Can’t we all agree that’s the most important thing when we have a friend?

Chloe owed a lot of money to Frank because she wanted to go away with Rachel, just in case “she showed up”.

Chloe tried to get money from Nathan because she wanted to go away with Rachel, just in case “she showed up”.

Chloe wanted to sacrifice herself for the town she hated. Moreover, she would sacrifice herself for Max, for her friend. She actually dies trying to find Rachel. She blames herself for not saving Max in the Dark Room. 

Now we can say that Chloe is not a selfish person. First reason to want her as a friend.

She is crazy

I love crazy and careless people. I love people who just don’t give a fuck about other’s opinion. Because they are the BEST people ever. They won’t listen to gossip about you, they won’t care about your hair, your clothes, your shoes… 

I love crazy people because they want to have fun and enjoy their life. I always say that Chloe is my spirit animal because I’d love to be so careless. I’d be happier for sure. Maybe, if I had a friend like her I would be happier because she’d try to do crazy things with me.

Midnight swim? Why the fuck not? I’m in. 

She is kind

I won’t say anything about this. Just see:

She is brave

Not everyone would defend you like Chloe defends Max. That’s something to think about.

I would write more and more about why I’d love having a friend like Chloe. But I think this is enough.

Keep calm and save Chloe Price

SOCK AU: THE EXPLANATION

i have gotten exactly one (1) ask about it SO HERE WE ARE LET’S GO

AU takes place on earth in the far FAR future in a ginormous supercity called Lucid; nonhumans make up 90% of the population (the 10% that are humans usually have some sort of mutation / supernatural ability too). Brief Lucid summary - it was initially created by aliens to be used as an intergalactic terminal/pit stop after the port in the asteroid belt between Mars & Jupiter got overrun by space pirates. It ended up growing into a prosperous commerce hub for beings from all over the universe - and beings from other realms altogether (like spirits / demons).

Lucid is comprised of DOZENS of districts, each huge and like a world of their own, but the AU is focused in district 3.* It used to be a beautiful, peaceful area called Altea, where diplomats from all over the universe gathered for meetings - but that was before an organisation called the Galra Empire overthrew Altea’s ruling court and put the district on lockdown. GE’s been controlling the area for years - fortunately it can’t extend its reach to districts outside of 3rd, but the empire leader Zarkon is trying to get Above that. Wants to conquer all six central districts and control the spaceport.

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Emotional Repression and Its Consequences

A few months, ago, I made a post in which I explained Touka’s growth as a character. She handles situations and trauma much differently then she did in the past, and while this is a sign of her maturity, it is also a sign of emotional regression. By nature, Touka is a bold and fiery character. She does not hold back her emotions and is the first person to say what is on her mind.

Case and point:

Touka has been like this since her introduction into the series. She has an explosive temper and never has any problem letting someone have it. At that time, she was also willing to throw away her life for those who she cared for.

Time and time again, she would do this, at least until her conversation with Yomo at the end of TG makes her realize that “You can only live while losing things.” In order to live as a ghoul, sacrifices have to be made. Surviving often means making those sacrifices.

This has lead to her repressing both her desires and her emotions throughout this entire arc in an almost regressive way.

Touka’s ability to carry on despite adversity is both one that is good and bad.

During this arc, she has had to leave people behind, one after the other. First, she must abandon Yoriko despite wanting to save her badly, then she must leave her uncle behind. Next, she has to leave behind Hinami in order to protect the ghoul children under her care. Each time she does this, it clearly kills her.

Throughout this entire arc, Touka has taken Yomo’s words to heart. “We can only live with losing things.” This is not a lesson that young!Touka would’ve cared much for, however, she has matured and understands that to live means to sacrifice. It kills her each time that she has to do this, though as leaving others behind is not in her nature, as I have explained in the original post.

Her heart and her logic are in a conflict here. What she wants is to stay and fight, but she is abandoning her desires for the greater good (protecting her baby and the ghoul children). She doesn’t want to leave Yomo or Hinami behind. She did not want to leave Yoriko. She does so because it is necessary (in her eyes). Touka is trying to save as many people as she can, while crushing what she actually wants to do.

This is the effect the trauma of being a ghoul has had on her.

Touka has no idea what else to do in this scenario. Losing things is common to her – so much so that she is at a loss for what to do in the face of what has become of her husband. All of her life she has lost things – her mother, her father, anteiku, re, the 24th ward, and now she is faced with losing her husband to herself. In spite of how hard she fought to protect the ghoul children and other weaker ghouls.

In the aftermath of all of this destruction, Touka is stuck looking up at the decimated city and wondering what she should do. She has no idea what choice to make – and no idea what to do. She wants to help Kaneki, as Nishiki points out, but it is clear that all of the energy has been sapped fro her after the ordeal that she has just experienced of leaving behind loved ones and being face to face with death. This is in clear juxtaposition to her behavior during the aogiri arc when she was willing to rush in without a second thought to save Kaneki.

All of the years of trauma have currently put her at a loss, however. And the enormity of the situation is weighing on her. She is struggling with guilt later when Itori is trying to incite a riot within Goat.

She isn’t able to say anything at all – and is pain as she struggles with herself. Should she lash out and be reckless like she wants to be? Or should she shut down her emotions and do what needs to be done? It is clearly putting a strain on her.

Only time will tell which choice Touka will make (and I think it will be to fight back and help save her husband), but the amount of pain that she is in is incredible, and she needs to feel it and process it in order to move forward.

Anyway...

I don’t think the phrasing in the Bellamy/Raven scene at the end of 4x13 was an accident. Raven actually said those words herself just two episodes prior (in 4x11), see here:

It can’t be a coincidence that we see almost the exact same sentence (”You’re always with me.”) in her conversation with Bellamy. I want you guys to pay attention here:

Look at Raven’s face after he asks this:

Before Bellamy asks the question, Raven’s face is smooth, but as soon as he gets the words out of his mouth, her head turns to him sharply, her eyebrows crease and she looks…concerned.

You know why? Because the last time she heard these words (or something similar) she was saying them to her imaginary Sinclair, right when she realized she’d never be able to “see” him (at least not like this) again. And Bellamy says this to her as she deals with the fact that she has lost one more important person to her (Clarke), literally as she watches the world burn. 

So when she says this:

to Bellamy, it’s a recall of her conversation with Sinclair. She fills in the missing “always” in his statement. Raven has already lost all of her family, Finn, Sinclair and she’s now lost Clarke (who-even though the show doesn’t show us this much anymore-is her friend, one of her closest). 

This statement is Raven telling Bellamy that just as Sinclair is always with her, she will always be with him. It’s not a fluke that this conversation is an almost exact replica of one she just had with the ghost of her lost father figure. It’s the show telling us that Bellamy is her family now, too. 

Time Bomb - Lip Gallagher Imagine

Originally posted by shamelessturkey

Word Count: 3169

Warnings: Swearing, mention of someone’s drug addiction

Letting out a content sigh, you leaned back on your bed and kicked your legs up to rest your feet in your best friend’s lap.  Lip Gallagher.  The two of you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. You were initially drawn to each other due to your mutual natural intelligence in school.  From there, your relationship only grew stronger.  You quickly discovered that you lived in the same neighborhood.  You both had tough living situations with your parents. The two of you were a match made in heaven—literally.  You had even fooled around with the whole friends with benefits thing more than once, but something seemed to always get in the way right before the relationship transformed into something more.  The timing was never on your side.

“I finally decided to put a deposit down on Chicago Polytechnic,” you said, folding your hands together over your stomach.  “Not my top choice, but I figured it wouldn’t be as expensive as the other schools and it’s close by in case I ever need to help out at home.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” Lip commented, his lips forming what appeared to be a forced smile as he looked down, scrolling through his phone.

Raising a questioning eyebrow, you propped yourself up on your elbows.  “Have you picked a school yet?  The deadline is in a few days, you know.”

A sigh escaped Lip’s mouth as he as he dropped his phone to the bed.  “I already told you, Y/N.  I’m not going to college.”

Shaking your head, you moved your legs off of his lap and sat up straight.  “Yeah, I know you said that.  But I didn’t think you were actually being serious.”

It was clear by the look on Lip’s face that he was beginning to get irritated.  “Why the fuck would I joke about that?  There’s too much going on here for me to run off and go to college.”

“Lip, the world isn’t going to stop spinning if you go to college.  It’s what Fiona wants for you.  It’s what everyone wants for you,” you argued, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth.  “You’re fucking brilliant.  You deserve to do more than just be stuck here for the rest of your life.  What are you gonna do here once school is done? You can’t just run the van with Kev every so often and make a living.”

That was when he began to snap.  Standing up in front of you, his angry eyes glared into yours. “Last time I checked, you’re not my fucking mom,” he spat, his hands clenching into fists.  “I already have one piece of shit mom.  I don’t need another.”

He didn’t scare you.  You had seen him livid before plenty of times in the past.  His arrogance was bothering you just as much as your persistence was angering him.  “Well, considering the fact you can’t make a logical fucking decision for yourself, I’m pretty sure you do need someone looking out for you,” you disputed, taking a step closer to him.  “I get it.  Things have been tough for you here lately.  So don’t you think it’d be smart to step away from it all while you can?”

“What the fuck are you trying to say?” he yelled, his face glowing red in anger.  “Are you trying to say I can’t control myself here?”

Sucking in a deep breath, you nodded your head. “Maybe that is what I’m trying to say,” you began, your eyes never leaving his.  “I mean, ever since things went to shit with Karen a while ago, you’ve been drinking more than ever.  Hell, you’ve got a beer with you right now.  You’re not your same old carefree self anymore.  I’m just worried about you.”

Despite the fact that you were making it evident that you cared, Lip only got angrier.  His teeth clenched together.  “Are you trying to say I’m turning into my dad?  Because I’m not my dad, Y/N.  I’m not my fucking dad.”

“Lip, I’m not saying you’re like your dad,” you responded with a sigh, taking a step back from him.  “I’m just saying that I don’t want you to turn into your dad.”

“Just because I’m choosing to stay here doesn’t mean I’m going to turn into my fucking dad,” he retorted, his voice becoming colder with each word.  “And you’re going to college, so what?  Just because you’re going to college doesn’t mean you’re not going to end up like your mom.”

Your whole body froze in place.  You couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. Your mom had been your best friend. She was a caring mother to you— or at the very least she attempted to be—up until her death.  When you were about twelve, she lost her job at the same time her relationship with your father started to go sour.  Never being able to find any satisfaction in her life again, she fell deep into a world of drug addiction.  One morning when you were fifteen, you woke up to a loud bang and noticed water flooding the hallway when you stepped out of your room.  When you finally managed to pry open the bathroom door, you had found your mom dead in the shower.  She had overdosed and collapsed.  The worst part about the current situation was that Lip had been with you through your grieving period and had even attended the funeral with you.

“Get the fuck out,” you demanded, your voice barely a whisper.  Your eyes started to well up with tears.

That was all it took for all of the anger to drain from Lip’s face and for him to realize what he had said.  Anxiously running his hands through his hair, he took a step toward you, his hand now extending toward you to touch your cheek.  “Fuck, Y/N.  I didn’t mean that.  I’m so—“

“Get the fuck out!” you screamed, your voice breaking more than once in the single sentence. You couldn’t stand to look at him. Ripping his hand off of your cheek, you pressed the palms of your hands against his chest and shoved him toward the door of your bedroom with all of your force, causing him to stumble backwards. The tears were readily streaming down your cheeks now.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry…” he whispered, his sorrowful eyes trying to meet your own, but you refused to look at him.  “I just… I… Fuck.”

Shaking your head, you gave him one last push and slammed the door after him.  You hadn’t even allowed him to retrieve his stuff before forcing him out of the room. The sobs were now freely escaping your mouth, shaking your whole body as you approached your bed.  You yanked his backpack off of your bed, slamming it against the floor.  Scanning your surroundings through blurry eyes, they fixed on the empty beer bottle he had left on your desk.  Storming toward it, you gripped your fingers around it and hauled it against the wall, watching as it shattered into a million little pieces on the floor.

There were very few subjects that could destroy you just at the mere mention of them.  Your mom was one of them.  She was top of that list.  And Lip knew that.  

Ignoring the few shards of glass that managed to prick into the bottoms of your feet, you collapsed down onto your bed. Rolling onto your side, your eyes set on your closed bedroom door.  You noticed a slight silhouette through the crack on the bottom of the door.  A loud sigh escaped your lips.  Lip was still there, sitting against your closed door. This was further proven when you heard a sniffle from the other side of the door.

Laying back, you pulled the blankets from your bed over your head, closing your swollen eyes.  You didn’t want to think.  You didn’t want to talk.  You just needed to disappear for a while.  “Just leave,” you muttered, pulling your knees into your chest and curling up into a ball.

When the sun began to set after what seemed like hours, you finally heard Lip let out a defeated sigh and situate himself on the other side of the door.  There was a slight thud against the door, which you assumed was either one of his palms or his forehead.  “I’m so sorry.  Just… Just call me or something eventually… please?”  

With that, you finally heard the sound of his footsteps walking away and descending down the staircase.  Eventually, your heavy eyes closed and you were able to drift off into an unpleasant night of sleep, his words and images of the past engraved in your mind.

You didn’t call him.  In fact, you avoided him at all costs.  At school, you averted your eyes away from him during the classes you had together.  When the bell would ring, you would slip out of the classroom before he could catch up to you.  Since the two of you typically walked home together, you instead resorted to taking a longer route.  Graduation came and went within the next week and you still managed to keep your distance.  You didn’t want to talk to him.  You didn’t know what to say to him.  Despite your anger towards him, it still felt like a part of you was missing due to the fact that he had previously consumed such a large portion of your time.

Your eyes flickered away from the TV as you heard a knock on the front door.  Your dad had told you he was expecting a package and to sign for it, so you assumed it would be that.  Forcing yourself off of the couch, you dragged your feet toward the door, tugging it open.

All emotion fell from your face when your eyes fell upon the unexpected.  Lip. Clearing your throat, you stepped aside. “The stuff you left here is next to the couch,” you said coldly, turning your back to him and walking back toward where you had been seated before.

“Y/N, I’m not here for my stuff.  I don’t give a fuck about my stuff.” He followed you into the living room, standing over the couch you were now sitting on.  “You’ve been avoiding me and it’s literally eating me alive.”

Resting your feet up on the table in front of you, you glued your eyes to the TV.  “What did you expect me to do?”

“I’m sorry.  I’m so fucking sorry, okay?  I realized the moment the words left my mouth that I fucked up.  And you were right about me.  I could be turning into Frank.  What I said was something Frank would say.  And I really don’t want to be like him.” He was now standing in front of the TV, blocking your view.  “The comparison I made was so uncalled for.  Your mom was always a caring person, regardless of what happened to her.  And you could never fall down that path. You’re so smart and you’re going to be so successful and you always surround yourself with people who make you happy and… Fuck.  I’m just sorry.”

Still, you forced the expression on your face to remain emotionless.  Even though he was blocking the TV, your eyes didn’t meet his.  “You’re right,” you began, crossing your legs.  “It was a Frank thing to say.”

The response you gave clearly did not satisfy Lip. He anxiously ran his hands over his face, beginning to pace back and forth.  “So that’s it?  I fuck up once… And yes, I do admit it was a huge fuck up… and you’re just going to throw away all of these years of friendship and everything we’ve ever had?” His voice broke off at the end. This caused your eyes to flicker to his face for a moment.  As he stared up at the ceiling, it was clear that there were tears welling up in his eyes. “Fuck.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you began to chew on your lower lip.  You could feel your emotions starting to kick in, but you didn’t want to break just yet. “So that’s it?” you started, mocking him in a way.  “You’re just going to throw away your potential in life after achieving great things all of these years?”

Wiping his eyes, Lip reached down and grabbed the TV remote off of the couch, turning it off.  “If you had answered my calls or let me talk to you at school, you would’ve known that I managed to scrape up the money to put a deposit down on Chicago Polytechnic too,” he responded, kneeling down on the ground in front of you so you were forced to look him in the eye.  “You were right.  I can’t stay here.  I’d eventually lose my mind if I stopped using it to its full potential.  You were right, okay?”

A single tear slid down your cheek as you looked down at your lap.  He had profusely apologized and had even followed your advice.  He really did care about you.  Wiping your cheek, your eyes met his and you forced a half smile. “I’m happy for you.”

Putting each of his hands on the couch surrounding where you were sitting, he shook his head.  “I don’t want to hear that.  I want to hear that you don’t hate me.” His eyes scanned your face up and down.  “I want to hear that I can have you back in my life again before I go insane.”

Letting out a sigh, you held both of your arms out wide, signaling to him to hug you.  Immediately, he leaned in closer and engulfed you in his muscular arms, squeezing you tightly.  You hugged him back, burying your face in his chest and gripping the back of his shirt. “I could never hate you.”

Lip’s body collapsed on top of yours on the couch as he embraced you, causing you to let out a laugh – the first time you’d laughed in a while.  Despite your laughter, Lip’s face was serious when he finally pulled back to look at you. “You should’ve hated me.  I was a dick and I don’t deserve you.”

Resting your head back on the couch, you shook your head at him.  “Don’t say that.  It’s impossible for me to stay away from you for too long,” you said, smiling at him slightly as you played with his hair.  “I love you too much.”

“You shouldn’t,” he mumbled, lifting some of his weight off of you as he removed his arms from your waist and propped himself up on his elbows over you.  His bright blue eyes stared down into yours, the look on his face suddenly changing. A mesmerized look took over his eyes as he lifted one of his arms off of the couch, resting his hand on your cheek.

Biting your lip, a nervous laugh escaped your lips in response to his actions.  “Don’t say that,” you repeated, shaking your head.  “You could just say you love me too.”

It was almost like he didn’t even hear your words. The captivated look on his face remained unfazed.  Before you could question it, he leaned down further and closed the gap between the two of you, his lips smashing into yours.  

After freezing up for a moment, you allowed your body to melt into his, your arms wrapping around his neck and tangling into his hair.  You could feel your heart pounding through your chest. This was far from the first time this had happened.  You and Lip had crossed far over the line of friendship into something more many times in the past.  However, each time either of you began to get afraid of catching feelings, you would hold back from hooking up for a while until you couldn’t resist each other again. Somehow you always ended up coming back to each other.

When you were finally able to assess the context of the current situation, your body froze up again.  Pulling your lips away from his, you furrowed your brow and gave his chest a slight shove.  “Wait, are you seriously trying to hook up with me right now after I just forgave you?”

Pursing his lips together, Lip climbed off of you and sat up on the couch.  His eyes wouldn’t meet yours.  “It’s not like that.”

The irritation that you had finally let go of began to resurface again.  Standing up from the couch, you crossed your arms over your chest.  “It’s not like what, Lip?”

“Hooking up.  It’s not like that to me.”

Taking a few steps back, you held your hands up in defense.  “So just because we’re friends, you don’t qualify it as hooking up?  I’m not understanding.”

Letting out a long sigh, Lip stood up and finally allowed his eyes to meet yours.  “Haven’t you ever considered how weird it is that we always have trouble acting like ‘just friends’ for extended periods of time?  So we always end up breaking the rules.  And just when we start breaking the rules a little too much, we stop.  We stop because ‘the timing isn’t right’ or whatever bullshit excuse we convince ourselves,” he explained, slowly taking a step toward you.  “And since I’ve had a lot of time to think it over while you were avoiding me, I decided that I’m sick of that.”

This was the most you had ever seen Lip let his guard down.  He usually worked tirelessly to maintain his detached, carefree demeanor.  But not now.

Your legs suddenly felt weak as you stood in front of the boy that had been your best friend for so long.  You knew he was right.  You knew that the two of you had worked so hard to repress all other feelings for each other, but he was right.  It was impossible.  Biting your lip, you shyly looked off to the side, too flustered to maintain eye contact. “So when is the timing going to be right?”

Taking the remaining steps to reach you, Lip’s hands gripped your hips.  “I can’t wait any fucking longer,” he whispered, his warm breath teasing yours lips as he pressed his forehead against yours.  “So it’s going to be right now.”

Without another word, his body pushed your back against the wall, his lips cravingly finding yours again.  

For the first time, you didn’t need to begin brainstorming how you would eventually play off what had happened between the two of you.  You didn’t have to constantly remind yourself that you were just friends.  You didn’t have to pretend it all meant nothing to you. Because it always had meant something more.  It always had your heart racing.  It always had you wondering when things would truly change between the two of you.  And it had always had you questioning when the timing would be right.

Finally, the clock stopped ticking.


———-


This took way longer than it should’ve but it’s after 3am so I’m off to bed.  Thanks so much for your feedback on my other posts and as always, let me know what you think. xx

Makoto Niijima Maniax Profile Translation

(Full Spread Here)

Credit to @vivvav for proof-reading

Reason for selecting Anat:

We don’t think it’s weird that Johanna takes the form of a motorcycle, since motorcycles symbolize “youthful independence” (they are the first vehicle where you can travel freely on any route you choose). We thought it fit Makoto’s development. Anat is less of a transformation from Johanna and more of an alternate form, as you can see from the details in the design.

Profile:

    Makoto is a third year student who attends the protagonist’s school, Shujin Academy. As the student council president, she is intelligent and highly moral. She lost her mother at a young age and her police officer father was killed on duty, so she lives with her older sister Sae.

    While Makoto is seen as a serious, intense honor student, she wasn’t always that way. She inherited her father’s sense of justice, and doubts herself for just doing whatever the authority figures tell her to do. When Shadow Kaneshiro touches on those doubts, Makoto snaps and releases her suppressed anger and resentment. 

    Makoto likes intense yakuza movies. She clenches her fists whenever she watches them.

6

Yorkshire, England  - 1940 

Dearest Sybbie, 

Forgive me. I know what you will think upon reading this letter, so I ask your forgiveness in advance. I have joined the army and am currently en route to London, set to be shortly posted to France. I understand both you and your father’s opinion of war, but I feel that it is my duty as both an Englishman and Crawley to do my bit for our country. My mother, of course, has not spoken to me since I last saw her and broke the news. It breaks my heart to know the pain that I am causing her. I know she almost lost my father in the Great War, and many a good man from the village. But I cannot stand by and watch the world that my father and so many others fought for, be lost to such evil. I do not know whether I will ever see you or Downton again. When I am on the continent and feeling low, I shall think back to the summers we spent terrorising poor old donk, or strolling through the village fair. I leave England in the hope that when I return, I will be able to escort both you and Goldie to your next dance. 

All I ask, should anything happen to me…look after my mother and Charlie, and please bury me beside my father. 

Pray for me dear Sybbie, I do need it. 

Your ever hopeful and endearing cousin, 

Georgie