I am so sick of people pretending they fw me when they really don’t

A Gift

Another year, Zuko told himself. Another year and he could put this house, his father and his sister far behind him. He just had to wait another year and he could leave and find a job and start his life. It might be tough, but he'd sleep on the streets if it meant he could finally escape this place. He threw himself on his bed and screamed into the pillows. He missed his mother. He missed his uncle. He missed who he was before everything went horribly wrong. Or rather got horribly worse, because his life had never been right.

"I wish someone would take me away from here," he muttered. His cheek still stung from where his father had backhanded him for some slight or other. It hardly mattered what he did. Ozai would find a reason. The only thing he could do to fight back was to meet his father's eyes with that stoic gaze that infuriated Ozai so much. Zuko had left his father seething with rage as he walked off calmly to his room. Azula had poked her head out of her room when she heard Zuko come up the stairs, and she shot him a look of such contempt, as if he were a pile of dog crap she'd just stepped in.

"How did you disappoint Dad today?" she sneered at him. Zuko just ignored her and locked his bedroom door behind him. He had a bit saved up. By the following year, it might even be enough for a deposit on a crappy apartment. Zuko knew that the chances were better than good that Ozai would throw him out as soon as he was of age, and he had done his best to prepare himself for that since he was 13. Back then, he thought he could move in with his uncle, but that wasn't an option anymore. Iroh had left him some money in his will, but Zuko wouldn't be able to access any of it until he was 21 without Ozai's permission. So he would have to find a way to survive until then.

The wrong brother was dead, Zuko thought bitterly for not the first time. The wrong parent was dead. Everything was just wrong. But there was little Zuko could do to fix it until his next birthday.

Sighing, he reached down and pulled out a well worn book from under his bed. It was a collection of fairytales his mother had read to him and his sister when they were very young and untouched by his father's blatant favoritism. Ozai would set the book on fire if he knew that Zuko had it. Fortunately, he hadn't been interested in setting foot in his son's room in years, and Zuko's mother had kept the book on his shelf. Now it was almost falling apart, and Zuko's heart broke for the day when it would be too delicate for him to open again. Tonight, he opened to one of his favorite tales, about a boy who was whisked away from his evil, unappreciative family and ended up married to the queen of the fairies.

"I wish it was real. I wish someone would take me away from here," he whispered again.

His windows flew open with a burst of wild wind. The curtains fluttered erratically, before settling again. There was someone standing in the window. She was shorter than Zuko by a good half foot, but as she looked down at Zuko from the window, her presence seemed to fill the room and dwarf Zuko. She wore a dark cape with a dramatically flared collar. It glinted in the dim light of Zuko's room, and he realized that there were gems sewn onto it. Her skin was bronzy brown which offset her icy blue eyes startlingly. She was beautiful, the way a predatory cat was beautiful. Zuko was frozen in fear, which only grew sharper when she smiled at him. She looked like she was up to no good. Zuko knew who she was immediately. She looked just like the illustration in his mother's book.

"You're the Goblin Queen," he whispered. She nodded her head once. Zuko took a step backward. "I must be dreaming."

"You're not," the Goblin Queen assured him, her voice was wry and throaty, almost like she was laughing at him. "I heard your wish, Zuko."

"My...wish?" he repeated.

"You wanted someone to take you away from here," she said. "I'm here to deliver." She pointed out the window, but the lawn and the street beyond it were gone. Instead, he was looking out across a browning field of wheat that led to a labyrinth, and in the distance, a castle perched on a dark mountain.

"What?" Zuko shook his head, breathlessly.

"You will go there," the Queen said. "To my castle. If you are worthy, you may stay." Zuko swallowed nervously and looked at the Queen.

"And if I'm not worthy?" he asked. The Queen's eyes glinted in what Zuko couldn't decide was mischief or malevolence.

"You can turn back," she said. "Perhaps your father will let you live to see 18. I doubt it, though." Zuko's nostrils flared and he clenched his fists at his sides, but he didn't otherwise react to the threat. The Queen seemed amused at him. He turned away from her and looked out over the labyrinth.

"You should get started." The Queen came up behind him, running her hands up his shoulders, and murmured in his ear. "It's farther than you think, and time is short." She took Zuko's hand and turned him to face a tree with a ticking clock fixed to it's trunk. "You have thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth and make it to my castle, or you'll be lost forever to your world and this one." The Queen leaned up and kissed Zuko's cheek, then she stepped back, fading into the air.

"Good luck," she said, before she faded completely out of existence.

the 'stay at home girlfriend' tiktok thing makes me so mad because people are right to be upset about how working sucks and you cant afford anything anymore and the 'minimum wage' is a starvation wage so why do anything at all, but they wrongly frame it as a gender issue rather than realizing that work sucks for everyone, and we can fix it instead of going back to relying on men for everything. no fault divorce, women being able to have their own bank accounts, women being able to own their own apartments and homes, etc-- these things are still new and were fought for by feminists, and people who grew up with them dont realize how lucky they are to have them. i would have thought that the repeal of roe v wade would have opened peoples eyes to how easily all our progress can be taken away and how conservatives will stop at nothing to do so. and i feel like people who think being a trad housewife is awesome have never spoken to an older woman in their lives.

it completely undervalues the amount of work that homemakers actually do, and glamorizes the lifestyle severely, also. i mean, god. reading "My Mother Never Worked" by Bonnie Smith-Yackel (if you take away nothing else from my post, read this) changed me forever, and i remember getting so upset hearing comedians like ali wong framing being a housewife = sitting around watching TV all day. being a homemaker is grueling, unappreciated work. you will cook, you will clean, you will have children and care for your family, you will tend to the house, if you are living out your cottagecore fantasy, you will spend hours of utterly backbreaking work taking care of crops and animals (they dont show the hours shoveling shit out of hay in stardew valley), and most of all, you will take care of your dipshit husband who hates you but who you rely on for everything. and if you're just a stay at home "girlfriend" doing all this, you have nothing like alimony for the time you weren't technically employed when you get dumped by your idiot nazi boyfriend like you would if you were legally married.

when things look hopeless, look to those who are actually taking action instead of letting yourself give up. hope is a skill. look at all the companies that unionized last year. i'm not going to end this rant by making a holier-than-thou list of things you can and should be doing, i know how hard it is to just survive in the modern day-- but at the bare minimum, don't let this dangerous alt-right-but-#girlboss rhetoric spread.

i am however going to end this by saying that these people are also technically right that they shouldn't have to work at all (hence wishing to be a housewife, even if thats misguided)-- i would redirect them by telling them about instead of making it a gender thing, this is a dream that a lot of people have had, and we shouldn't let employers change the conversation. this dream's not even that far in the rearview mirror in the USA. within the past ~50 years, it wasn't uncommonly thought that automation and machines would take over all basic manual labor and people would eventually have to work fewer and fewer hours, and eventually not at all-- but now, people worry about a robot stealing their job. i'm not going to go into all the steps that would be needed to make this possible (UBI, universal healthcare rather than healthcare tied to employment ...), but i feel like just reminding people of this conversation is powerful. don't let employers control the conversation.

I was thinking about your post about Dream likely being the one to first call Destruction The Prodigal and remembered the rest of the story, which I think is interesting here. Not sure how exactly, but I think it's interesting. The prodigal son returns and his father throws a feast, now the brother who never left in the first place is feeling betrayed and unappreciated by this whole thing, after all, he continued in his responsibilities. And he's frankly jealous of his brother.

Applied to this scenario, I think Dream is the brother who never left. If he came up with the name, I think he also did so with a sort of dark humor to it as well. Of course his brother would return, of course he'd be welcomed back with open arms, of course those who had continued in their responsibilities despite the insane toll it takes in them, would be unappreciated (I guess, that feels like the wrong word here, but whatever).

At the same time, I think he also realizes the point of that story was to say that it is more cause for celebration that the prodigal son returned than that the other son continued his responsibilities. But still, it must hurt to be the other son.

Anyway, I just think the implications of where Dream fits in the story is interesting if he was the one to originally call Destruction "The Prodigal". Not real sure how much of this made sense cause it's really late where I am as I'm writing this, but that's okay, I'm sure you'll be able to turn this into something more profound.

absolutely, yeah!

honestly i don't have a lot to add to this bc i think you said it really well, but you're absolutely right. dream has always been the faithful, and takes it as kind of a betrayal when his siblings aren't? he and maybe destiny are the only ones who've never had a moment of selfishness or deviation from their purpose

and he simultaneously is horrified by those decisions and doesn't understand how they could ever choose that, but also part of him wishes he could choose that, it's just not in him to do so

there's no real father figure here to choose favourites, because god knows their real father is an asshole to dream and destruction alike, but i think a bit of that jealousy of destruction's freedom without consequences is still a part of dream, and it does colour how he sees destruction

burn a candle, not yourself

I believe in the power of detachment and letting go, I know it has never been easy, not because you’re overly attached, but rather because you genuinely believe that person is the right one for you. They may be the sweetest and most heartwarming people in the world, and you have the potential to be just as sweet and nice. However, things don’t always unfold and work out as we hope. It all boils down to the connections, effort, and love, which cannot be forced.

You’re probably holding onto that one person because you believe you won’t find another like them. But here is the truth: if you don’t let go of those who don’t reciprocate your efforts and love, you won’t be able to find a genuine and authentic connection.

I'm genuinely sorry if they are disappointing you and somehow made you feel unappreciated. I've been there, so I understand exactly how this makes one feel, you're not alone. Your beautiful heart deserves pure and sincere love, please be aware of your worth. I know you're holding onto some people because you love deeply, and genuinely believe that things and people will someday change, and you'll finally get to what you've always imagined. You think that if you love harder, give more, or try one more time to fix things, they might eventually meet you halfway. Hear me love, you did enough. And what has happened has definitely happened for a reason. I know that these are the last things you want to hear and I know how drained your soul is right now.

I know your heart, and I see that you're always the one who stays, wanting to prove that if you don't let go of someone, they won't let go of you either. You hold on because you don't want to feel the guilt of abandoning someone. You've always wanted to prove that love can conquer all obstacles. You yearn for that person with whom you can share dreams, see the world from a different perspective, and embrace a profound sense of safety. You've always wanted someone with whom you can share both the ups and downs of life, and when times get tough, you believe in giving your best, communicating, and finding solutions together. But will they do the same?

I'm sorry for those times when everything felt one-sided, and for those days when you realized it’s not about the communication but instead, it’s all bout the comprehension that matters. Yet, you don't want to give up, not on the person specifically but on that beautiful thing you see within them. I can feel you, I am all these feelings, honey. But despite all of the lovely things you feel, please never let this burden your beautiful heart. We want to keep it safe. Don't ignore how someone makes you feel about yourself just to keep them around. Don't demand more than what it can currently offer. Instead, appreciate it for what it was, value the lessons it taught you, and cherish the beauty you experienced.

Dear you, I’m deeply sorry for not being able to free you from this cycle. I wish there was something I could do to help you break free. I wholeheartedly pray that your heart will one day receive the love it deserves, just as deeply and beautifully as you love others.

10/Jun/2023

-awinn

i want them to suffer. i want to take back control. i wish id never gotten this far, this deep. i hate the idea that they think of me this way, that they’re better than me because they had a therapist telling to to do self care and about roll confusion. i’m so fucking mad and sad and hurt. i want to hurt them. but i cant. i have nothing. and its cruel. i’m just so so so fucking tired of feeling so incredibly exceedingly unappreciated. get out of my life. stop leaching off of the limited resources i have. do you even fucking realize for one second how much i’ve given up for you. how much i’ve begged and bared everything and lit myself on fire to try for you and you have failed me again and again and again and now i want you gone. and that anger and pain is so much stronger because i can’t get rid of you, i can’t have things go back to how they were, i can’t make you less selfish and ungrateful. i fucking hate you so much…. because i’ve loved you beyond what is even reasonable, or ultimately sustainable or healthy…. and it literally could never be enough. because you were never enough. and i’m a fucking fool for taking you on. i want you gone. i want you far away. and yet i want so desperately to have you see it. to have you appreciate it. at this point i just want to watch you suffer under the pain i’ve been carrying for so fucking long and literally dragging you along while i get dragged back. i’m worse off than i’ve ever been and you have barely made any growth……….. you’ve made some but it’s not even close to enough. it’s not enough. and you still dare to complain and burn the money you’ve been given. amanda said it themselves- not even if regard to me, but in regard to themselves, to jeff, ryan, rainey. “i don’t think they’ll ever realize how much good will they’ve burned”. i will never tell you these things…… bc some insane part of me needs to see you succeed because otherwise what the fuck was any of it for, and i think that could only make you crumble. and frankly i resent you for being so fucking weak that i can’t even tell you this shit. i can’t tell you anything. there is no room for growth or discussion. i always have to monitor everything i say. and you just blow your feelings all over the place. even when im begging, fucking begging. you still have to be in more pain. i hate you. i fucking hate you because i thought you were better than this and you just fucking aren’t. i hate you because you’re a reflection of all of my worst qualities and because of the pain i’ve put myself in. i want you gone. i don’t want any of the people who are supposed to be nice and to care for me give any more of that to you. i begged them to. begged. over and over again. and they gave everything even when they had nothing and i lost so much and you gave me so so so fucking little. i hate you. i hate you. i hate you i want to hurt you, emotionally, physically. i want to punch you. i worry that if you do it again i wont be able to control myself. don’t fucking touch me. how dare you be upset that i don’t say i love you. how dare you. i fucking hate you so god damn much you’re so weak. you ask for truth but you can never handle it and i always have to pick up the pieces im so fucking mad that you dare ask for patience again and again and again. you’re so like your sister. you’re awful. get away from me. how could you do this to me. you promised me it was worth it. and it just fucking isn’t. how could you fail me like this. am i really that meaningless. am i nothing. is anything i will ever do worth anything…….. i get you. because i trusted you. and i worked so so so so so fucking hard to help you figure out how to take care of yourself so that you could do the baseline and treat me with respect and trust and acknowledgement and love and gratitude and want and i never fucking got that shit. get out. get out……… i’m so mad because you tried…. because this was your best….. because i have cherished and respected and encouraged you and am grateful to you….. and it was t enough. and you will blow up again. do i ask for too much?

no. i have to believe i dont. maybe i didnt always ask in the best ways. maybe sowntimes too much. but you always gave what i didn’t want and didn’t give anything i begged for, and then acted burnt out. whose fault is that…… fuck. i’m so fucking hurt. how could i give away everything i have had to you. get the fuck out. get out…… even this pain wouldn’t have you realize it. you would be too busy playing the pain olympics and hating yourself and feeling judged. “i don’t have parent trauma” my fucking ass, fuck you, you’re so unaware. i want to kick you until you figure it out. because your stupid fucking bs has hurt me- so deeply. and even when i told you that it didn’t fucking matter and it had to be about you. is it because ‘i have things you don’t’. fuck you you selfish sinister neurotic narcissistic self centered traumatized and weak and helpless, hopeless, blind, stupid fucking bitch.

i hate that i tried to make you better when you fucking didn’t actually want it. not really.

and now i’m worse.

and i’m selfish. and awful. maybe i’ve only survived this long due to a saint complex………. kill me. but then again, i really believed in you…. and now i hope no one ever does again.i hope they all give up. i hope you never find someone to love you, hold you, make you cum, take you in, share their love, their community, i fucking want to burn your clit off. i want to tattoo on you the pain you’ve caused me so you never forget. i want to kill you and myself because i hate the idea of being this fucked and thinking this low of anyone. i just……… wish to god, please god, lord, savior, god, God. i wish this had t gone this way. i wish it was over. i wish you were better, somewhere far away, and i was happy….. i wish i hadn’t given up so much, i wish i could have it back. i hate you. i want to bite you. i want to choke you out. i want to tie you down and punch you……….. im nothing. i’m fucking nothing. and now i’m the scary and fucked up one. and now i’m the one you’ll work through in therapy. it’s me. i should’ve left a long long long time ago. but i didn’t.

take some responsibility. punch me, hard. do it first. so i can punch you back. i want to see you and hear you in pain. i want to be in pain. i want to be dead because i don’t want to be in pain and because i give up. i’m the fucking worst. i’m the tyrant. why didn’t you run. why did you have no one and nothing else. why are you still so sweet and tempting, why are you still so beautiful, why did you hurt me….. why did you hurt me. why. why. was i never enough. why did you do this. please just. fucking go away so i don’t have to hear you answer and i won’t even get a chance to ask because really want kind of sick unwell masochist am i to ask that question. at this point. i’m so hurt. i’m tired of begging. pleading. there’s no hope.

now i dry my tears and prepare for a war. what will i do. how strong can i be. what will it take. how far will i go. now that i see it, i want out. how do i sustain this. why. why are you like this. i hate you. you’re nothing. you are nothing. and it’s too late.

please hold me…………. don’t fucking touch me.

oh how things have changed. i can see the path walked a million times over, and im walking along side it. its littered with gravestones, id put a flower at every one. it’s frozen now. i can’t go back.

why couldn’t i have met you when you were better. would you have gotten better without me? am i really so se centered to believe that’s true? but then i look at how insanely fucking hard i’ve worked, and how little has changed, and i think……. maybe. and then i see you making progress. and i resent you for me. there’s no progress for me, when do you work on us, when do you help me. when do you stop thinking you’re so fucking perfect. you’re pretentious. and insolent. and stubborn. and childish. you are childish. no matter how much you know or what parent figures you have in your life or what you believe you’re doing and preforming. you are weak. and not in the ways you coddle yourself for. in the ways you praise yourself for.

no more flowers. don’t miss them. or i’ll hate you more. just leave. and never come back to this grave yard. not unless you bring your own flowers.

fuck you. for never helping pull the wagon. for dragging me down. for thinking to highly of yourself and so little at the same time. fuck yoh. fuck……… i want the tears to stop. i want to ache to stop. i want you to keep asking so i can keep denying. i want you to suffer. i want to take away everything i can. we’ve been down this road before. and i brought us back. and now. “whatever im going through” and it’s triggering you. i just……….. want to bite you. tie you down so you can’t stop me or scratch me, and bite you. i’m tired…………. im so tired. i want to feel the tired, that sad exhaustion and rest and peace in pain. but i want to bite you first.

ok. now that i’m sufficiently marked for inpatient. and you’re doing so well.

run good for you by olivia rodrigo. i told you one day it would be the song i played after we broke up. and you told me no… i should’ve known then.

💐

goodbye. i’ll miss you. and i’ll hate you for making me miss you. make it quick. give me a reason to hate you.

Cya as Douxie

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“My whole life, people, Arthur, Merlin, you, have been saying that; and I believed it, so I never tried, but my friends helped me realize I am strong enough! I am Cya Casperan, successor to Merlin and protector of this realm!”

✨ Cya used to work under the apprenticeship of Merlin, until his passing in battle.

✨ He’s the co-leader of the Guardians of Arcadia.

✨ A cover student of Arcadia Oaks Academy.

✨ A former employee of GDT Arcane Books and Mr. Benoit’s French Bistro before the fire destroyed it.

✨ He's also a guitarist in a band known as Ash Dispersal Pattern, who had previously covered for Papa Skull.

✨ Cya has existed since the 12th century, during the Age of Magic, but much of his past is unknown.

✨ He was orphaned with no one but his one loyal familiar, a shapeshifting dragon named Junji.

✨ Together they were against the would, living in Camelot during his teen years while magic was outlawed in kingdom, courtesy of King Arthur.

✨ However, Cya used magic during his traveling games to earn easy change.

✨ One day he’s outed as a spell caster when a knight discovers that the ball during one of his games was actually Junji.

✨ They try to escape, but were caught and going to be executed until Merlin saved him.

✨ Cya’s goal is to become a master wizard, to prove it to Merlin that he can be worthy enough not wield his own staff.

✨ Not much is known as Cya lived through the modern years, only mentioning to be attending Arcadia Oaks Academy, the rival school of Arcadia Oaks High.

✨ In the past, Cya was clumsy, impatient, and a reckless teen who wanted to competent wizard but was only ordered to push brooms around.

✨ Cya’s usually quick to jump at every opportunity to find more adventure to make his mark and make himself grow to master his wizardry abilities.

"We're unappreciated, Ji, silent sentinels keeping the world safe from specters and demons and... It's out of the trap, isn't it?"

✨ But nine centuries later, Cya has become charming, honorable, and well-meaning.

✨ He’s still hard working who still wishes to prove himself worthy.

✨ But he still retains his reckless behavior whenever he’s in the face of danger.

✨ He enjoys practicing his powers and using them to protect the world from evil creatures, even if he has to do it in shadows alone.

✨ Despite his power, Cya takes Merlin’s lesson to heart that magic “is not permissible shortcut to hard-work” so he tries not to let his power go into his head and genuinely works- only using his magic if needed.

✨ Even with his overdetermination, he genuinely wants to set everything right and help his friends out of trouble.

✨ Cya believes that all life is precious to the world, including those closest to him.

✨ Much like the other Guardians of Arcadia, Cya is more than willing to do anything in his power to protect his friends when history is at risk of being interfered and meddled.

✨ When Merlin was killed, it hit Cya really hard. But yet it made him motivated enough to find another way to fix things himself.

✨ He’s been struggling with the loss of Merlin, not wanting to let go.

✨ For how much he cares about his friends, he has a habit of pushing his struggles down and taking it all on his shoulders.

✨ He’s magically enhanced physiologic, his magic increases his strength and agility.

✨ His enhanced strength allows him to knock down Gumm-Gumms easily with one hit, either by himself or his guitar.

✨ Cya is has enhanced durability, once he briefly died but had the ability to bring himself back to life soon after.

✨ His agility is much enhanced that the others, being able to leap high lengths to get an attack in or dodge the danger.

✨ Cya is a skilled practitioner in the scientific art of magic, after spending almost a millennium studying it.

✨ He’s able to project, shape, and manipulate his magical energy to use magic for a variety of effects and purposes.

"Oh, fuzz buckets!"

✨ Tenebris Exilium, a powerful beam of blue magic.

✨ Elemen-zath, a massive burst of magic, capable of knocking surrounding enemies away from him.

✨ Shields, he can create shields to protect him and his friends from danger.

✨ He’s able to sense magic in the air, whether good or bad, to sense danger around him.

✨ One of Cya’s speciality is infinite hallways, something he tricks his enemies with by creating two hallway portals with no way out. He’s able to summon objects out of thin air.

✨ Gassus flotulus, he’s able to generate a mist of blue fog to hide his escape- which never seems to work with how clumsy he is.

✨ Interminus nocti sluumberso, an instant deep sleep spell but an overuse of this spell could cause permanent memory loss.

✨ Sigilia infractum causera, a banishing spell to banish and imprison his foes.

✨ Lignum aeternum, an enchantment to scale vertical surfaces without any assists.

✨ Magna torna truess, a spell to move things with his thoughts.

✨ Cya can summon blue ropes that bind his enemies.

✨ With teaming up with Junji, he can control fire around him and creating blue flames.

✨ Even if not his own, he can project memories from certain places.

✨ Astral projection is something he learned from Merlin, coming quite handy when he’s tricking the enemies around him.

✨ Cya is able to levitate himself and fly at great speeds, leaving behind a trail of blue light.

✨ Cya’s wizard staff transforms into a bass, which allows him to fight his own style with.

✨ After being alive for more than 900 years, he’s a master at martial arts and multilingual.

"Well, I just conjured an anti-gravity spell to slow our fall and keep us from dying. You're welcome."

His mind has been pulled in many different directions as of late. When he’s not focusing on tour life, he’s stressing over filming audition tapes for casting directors. When he’s not doing that, he is overanalyzing his upcoming schedules; stressing over where he’ll find any free time to devote to himself or his boyfriend. It’s been a never-ending rotation of work without play, and all hopes is that he’s given some shred of consistency soon. While he realizes that his life will never be an ordinary one, the fact that he’s been doing this for so long without breaking is wild to him. It’s a huge reason why he’s finally feeling at his wit’s end now. For many, many years, he’s rolled with the punches and accepted everything his career threw at him with gusto and excitement; ready for any challenge or obstacle that lied in the way. Now? That endless energy is running out, and it’s running out in a manner that’s lightning-speed. Burn out is something he never thought he’d have to deal with, but here he is: running on fumes and dangerously close to an empty tank. It genuinely scares him.

In truth, he never thought that Polaris would skyrocket to the amount of success they have now. He’s grateful for it, but at the same time, he wishes that they remained more modest in terms of their fame. It was far easier to manage in their early years, and he misses that level of status. It gives him whiplash how massive they’ve become, and he knows that many other groups in the market today look up to them and aspire to reach their heights, but he also knows that if they knew that he’d caution them to be careful what they wish for, they’d be disappointed. That, or they’d think he was ungrateful and unappreciative of the position he’s in. It’s tiresome, and a big part of him wonders if not renewing his contract and instead accepting an offer from one of the many acting agencies that expressed their interest in him would’ve been better. That’s been a topic he dwells upon constantly, and it’s only made heavier when he receives a voicemail from the director of a drama he recently read for.

“Hello, this is Yu In-sik; director of Extraordinary Attorney Woo. I have great news.” There’s a pause in the message, but when Jake first listened to it, he knew what it meant. “We’ve reviewed your audition tapes, communicated with your company, and have reached an agreement. We would love to offer you the role of Lee Jun-ho; the male lead of the series. The first table read will be happening soon, so please wait to hear from your management in regards to scheduling, as well as for the contract that we need you to review and sign. We can’t wait to work with you and hope you’re well!”

Getting this part pleases him in many ways, but he’s terrified of knowing what it means in terms of his tour and obligations with Polaris. Will he be traveling back and forth constantly? Will he be able to sit out on a couple of dates to prepare and film? He has no idea, but above all, he’s hoping he can spend most of the end of the year in Seoul. That, and well, he’s beginning to think that maybe paying out his contract and being an actor isn’t a bad idea. Until then, he’s just happy that he’s still able to book other gigs despite his agenda being full to the brim with group endeavors.

There are no happy endings in life.

Before you come at me, let me explain.

In life, we all have this unrealistic thing called “hope”.

Hope is what keeps us going, because we think that eventually life will get better. That things will turn around. That we’ll get all our wishes and desires from this world. And we’ll be happy. That’s what I mean by a happy ending - not a “happily ever after” kind of thing where everything is all well and dandy and life is forever great, but it is a hope that we’ll get our lucky break - and a lucky break can mean different things for all of us. Like we’ll finally get our dream job, we’ll meet the love of our life, we will hit the jackpot and become rich, we’ll attain fame and accolades, somehow everyone in this world is yearning for that lucky break. A wish fulfilled by the universe. Finally, our biggest and best dreams come true.

In that sense, I truly believe that all of us yearn for that meaning of “happy ending” on a deep level.

We all need hope - otherwise what is there a reason to live when life is full of trials and despair. But holding only too tightly to hope can also cause suffering.

The reality is, there are no happy endings from my my own perspective and based on my experience. This is all from how I see it, and of course your reality and beliefs are different. But from my experience so from 33 years of life, every good thing that has happened in my life always had a trade off. And it isn’t what is conventionally a truly happy ending. Because I believe that as long as we are in this world - earth or universe - human consciousness, nothing is perfect. You may get a dream job but somehow there’s always a little something in the contract that is not perfect. Or you get a dream job but home life suffers, in a sense that you are in unhappy marriage or there are family problems or you don’t have someone in your life, et cetera et cetera. There is no true happy ending - there is a trade off in every aspect of happy ending or lucky break that we receive in life. If I come to think of my life, I was able to work in my dream workplace yet as the tears went by I realized it actually wasn’t my dream workplace anymore and it’s not as perfect as I thought it would be. Years of overwork, overtime, overwhelm - the big O’s, coupled with being undervalued, unappreciated and unrecognized - the big U’s. I lived with my parents for most of my life until I got married, but eventually I lost my dearest mom and figured out I don’t know how to live on my own, I became lazy, and dependent on my mom. I met my marriage partner, but somehow it’s not what I envisioned it to be. It’s obligation, commitment, and sometimes having to spend time with someone who you don’t like and annoys you sometimes.

So my conclusion is, life is but a test. Somehow we come into this life with an unrealistic expectation that life would be a fairy tale and all our dreams will come true someday, but the actual reality is that life is one big test we have to pass before we leave this world and earthly body. It’s one long ass class full of lessons and learnings, and after each small lesson, there is a test we have to pass. And if you look at it wholly, it’s just one big ass test with lots of obligations and fleeting rewards that are temporary and has trade offs. I guess we go to earth for school, it’s a part of our soul journey, and once we pass school, then… I don’t know, I haven’t been there yet. But that’s what I’ve derived so far from this school of life.

Don’t expect school to be an institution that gives rewards. It gives some rewards, if you’re lucky. But it’s just “school” that serves its general purpose - teach you lessons and gives you tests that you’ll need to pass in order to graduate. But along your journey, you meet friends and people you spend more time with than others, and sometimes you get rewarded by your teachers with an award and recognition, then there’s food to explore and some entertainment to keep you occupied, but at the end of it all, it’s a school and it’s not supposed to be rainbows and butterflies and happy endings. It’s a damn school for a reason.

The Bride C2

By the time I woke up, I felt different, like something was moving under my skin. I barely had a moment to process the change before my mother burst into the room raving about how fantastic the change was. She said she was given a gift, that it healed her and made her stronger, and she in turn gave it to me. Hers made her bigger, stronger, scarier, mine? Well physically I didn’t change much, I was far sicker than my mother was so she theorized it focused more on fixing what was nearly destroyed than improving.

Among other small things, my eyes had changed color, the previously dark brown had shifted to a shining gold, and the pendant I wore with my family crest had essentially burned itself into my skin. My nails were longer, sharper, like claws, and my teeth would ache like they were growing in.

I would soon discover this ‘gift’ was really a curse. I had to learn to live a life I had given up on, and learn to live it as a monster. I could no longer eat the things I enjoyed, even being around food would make me violently ill, and I found myself lashing out more often. We were approached by a woman one day, who claimed herself to be the reason we were what we were. Said she had the answers.

My mother was quick to form her devotion, obsessively thanking the woman before us for her ‘miracle’ and pledging our services to her. Mother Miranda, she would later introduce herself, explained we had been given a rare gift, one that would grant us life for as long as we followed her. She said our hunger, our anger, would be sated with blood, and that she would call on us when she needed us to repay her for her gift. As if the life I was forced into was really so precious. I had no choice in my first life but to accept my death and I have no choice in my second life but to accept it is no longer my own.

Something more changed with my mother as time drew on. Where I had withdrawn, barely doing what was necessary to prolong my existence, she thrived. More than I had ever seen her do previously. She hired more servants, pulling from neighboring villages, working the girls hard and then draining them to sustain herself. She turned them into ‘wine’, poured their essence into finely crafted bottles and kept them stored as if they were vintage. She liked to say they tasted better if left to age in old wine bottles, and said the bouquet that stained the glass would saturate into the blood, making it sweeter.

And then Mother Miranda came again, throwing ideas of family towards her, offering to help her. That she could have more daughters, daughters who would enjoy the life they were offered, who would thrive with her. And how could she refuse? And so they created my sisters. Daniela, Bela and Cassandra, and how they bonded. They were the children my mother wanted more than anything, they wanted to live, they loved the hateful life they were given. They had no remorse for what they had done, what they were doing.

They were perfect. Until we found out they were weaker. They had been normal before this, so when they were changed Mother Miranda said their defects would manifest with their gift. Whereas Mother and I were essentially impervious to most things, my sisters could not fare in the cold. They had to stay in the castle, where they would be safe, or they would die.

How I wished it could end for me as simply as a breeze. My mother swore to keep them safe, punishing any servant who would carelessly leave a window or a door open. Those servants would be brought to the cellar. The others would say they would never be seen again, but they don’t realize they serve them to us in our house glasses. They bottle them and preserve them, thinking its just another wine.

If only they weren’t so naive, perhaps they would have had a fighting chance. Eventually I got sick of the jokes, the jabs from my so-called sisters about how unappreciative I was of my gift, how jealous they were that I was able to go out if I wanted to. If they wanted to play with me weak, I decided I’d see how they’d fare with me stronger. And so I fed, I fed until I was full and I fed some more until the flush it gave my cheeks seemed almost natural. I started offering to help my mother more, offering to retrieve our new servants, participating in her cruel rituals.

Eventually she started thinking I had finally seen how brilliant it was, that I was growing into my life, and ‘living it how I was meant to’. And so she started letting me come to the meetings, with Mother Miranda’s permission. At first it was just us three, until she found others. Then trickled in Donna, a poor woman who's only able to exist essentially with extensions of herself into dolls. Then Moroe, a very horrifying man who basically looks like a giant slug. He was rather simple, not all too smart, essentially just fawning over Miranda and wanting to do everything to make her happy. He ended up being a big part of her experiments.

Then came Heisenberg. A brute of a man, who like us, was able to retain his primary form. His power came in the way of controlling metal. He became essential in helping Miranda build more, essentially creating and running a  factory for her experiments to try to find the right body for her child. My mother did not trust him, she always said he was conniving. That as a man he was untrustworthy and that she loathed him being a part of our ‘family’.

This was one case where I found myself actually agreeing with her. Karl Heisenberg was a vulgar excuse for a man. Crass and loud, overly confident in himself and what he would be doing. Part of him was clearly a facade, whether it was his loyalty or his talent I was unable to tell, but boy did he love making snarky comments about us.

He would quip that clearly he was the more talented of the family, that he could do more for Miranda than we could. That all we were good for was killing the townsfolk and failing. Not as if he ever did much better, though. All his experiments were from the leftovers from us, all of them turning out more dull and stupid than the last. Lycan after lycan, mistake after mistake, and still he had the gall to say he was what was the one making the progress. Even the buffoon Moroe did better than he did, and all he would do was whimper pathetically about how he wants Mother Miranda to love him.

Mother made me promise to keep away from him, something I agreed to easily, I had no desire to be around such a thing and if it would get her to loosen up more with me I was more than willing. This proved, however, to be a more difficult task than anticipated, because apparently he made it his mission to go out of his way and interact with me, even if it was in short bursts. That is where we are now.

Mother Miranda had called on us all for a meeting, requesting my mother host, which of course she agreed to, even though it meant allowing men into the house. She ordered my sisters to stay in their rooms, they were not to come out, but Miranda had requested my presence at the meeting so I, of course, had to go. It didn’t take long for the freak train to roll in. First Moroe, ever the eager pleaser, whom neither my mother nor I greeted, followed by Donna, who was excitedly chittering around. Heisenberg came last, shooting a smirk towards us before dropping onto the old loveseat. It creaked dangerously in protest at the sudden weight and I felt my mother stiffen at my side.

“That’s an antique, you oaf. Be more careful with things that do not belong to you.” I sneer, narrowing my eyes. His smirk widens considerably as he leans forward on his thighs, sliding his glasses down slightly so I can see his eyes.

“Trust me darlin’, I’m plenty gentle. You just have to beg first,” he tosses back at me, and if I had fed today I’m certain I would have flushed at his suggestive tone. My mother lets out a sound of anger but before she can cut in Mother Miranda arrives, essentially teleporting right in the middle of our potential screaming match.

Could I request some yandere Sukuna from jjk crushing on one of Yutadoris sorcerer teachers and before she realises it, sukuna has taken over yutadoris body and I’ll let you decide the ending

Thank you for requesting! :3 I hope you enjoy it! Sukuna is second best boy for me from the series so I am always excited for him ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

Up till now, you hadn’t had the chance to build an opinion on the creature that Itadori was. Perhaps, it wasn’t your place to judge him at all, but having been assigned as one of the people teaching him the ways of the Sorcerers, you almost felt obligated to have some kind of opinion.

The truth was, he was a good kid. Anyone with a few social skills could see that. Though he was young, he took what he was doing at the Jujutsu High seriously, and despite being immensely chipper, for someone who would be executed at some point, he wasn’t a bother to have around. Even if this wasn’t the way of life he wanted, he pretty much committed to it now.

And yet, of course, you feared him.

You feared that someday, he wouldn’t be able to keep the threat residing inside of him at bay. You feared he was a ticking bomb on two legs, no matter how well he appeared to have it under control. No one could assume what was going on beneath that carefree expression and cheerful smile. What Sukuna was doing underneath the farce that was this sweet boy.

At first, you thought it would get better the more you knew him. The first meeting had made all hairs on your body stand up straight, but even then, you didn’t run from it. You might have looked pretty disgusted the first time Sukuna spoke up through a mouth on Itadori’s cheek, but otherwise, you had kept your composure.

No matter if you were a graduate from this school, or if they trusted into your abilities enough to teach the kids, or if you believed in yourself and your skills, it all meant nothing when you thought that you’d have to restrain the monster hiding inside of Itadori. How long would you be able to withstand it? A second? Two? You could be relieved if Sukuna made a quick process of you, but you feared he wouldn’t.

Glancing over your shoulder, you watched Itadori jotting down the things you were writing for him on the board. A yawn escaped him casually before he went back to taking his notes. He looked just like any other student. As if he was taking a typical class on an everyday topic, but you couldn’t shake the feeling. You knew you were being watched.

The thought that it wasn’t Itadori who watched you was actually worse than if it was him.

Sighing, you brought your eyes back forth to the blackboard, simply hoping that it was just your imagination running wild. You really, really did not want it to be true. However, sorcerers were specialists when it came to cursed spirits. You should have known better than to push away your intuition like that.

On the other side of the room, Yuji couldn’t help but wipe some sweat off his brow, relieved that you didn’t see it. Sukuna - as always - was a pain in the ass to deal with. If he wasn’t running his mouth, he at least seemed to think he deserved to see what was going on, eyes crawling over Yuji’s skin no matter how hard he tried to stop them.

Turning his head, shielding the eyes with his hand - nothing ended his attempts. Yuji was so glad that you were focused on your task of teaching him, refusing to spoil him with your gaze all the time. Why Sukuna decided to take an interest in you, not even Yuji had been able to get that question out of the cursed spirit. However, every lesson it got worse. Usually, Sukuna would stay put if it wasn’t Fushiguro that Yuji was talking to, but you seemed to make him restless.

Catching a glimpse of the clock over the door, he sighed in relief. Only ten more minutes left before this would be over once more. Even though Yuji had no problem talking, you and he had yet to really get to know each other. You were careful, and with Sukuna acting up, so was Yuji. He almost expected you to not like him very much for apparent reason, so how in the world could he have explained to you what was going on without it freaking you out?

“Hey, I think you shouldn’t teach me anymore because Sukuna is stirring up my body!” sounded weird AND suspicious. It would have probably earned him a re-evaluation or execution right away. Yuji knew that if he wasn’t able to control Sukuna anymore, that would be his end, and he had yet to reach his goal. He should have told you then and there, but something held him back.

Something that decided it was time for more action than sitting out this precious time with you.

Yuji’s hand tensed before it drove forward hard, letting go of the pen between his fingers. With a tender click, it fell to the ground, rolling towards you and catching your attention. Surprised, you glanced at Itadori, who smiled nervously at you, clutching his own hand, and you raised a brow, wondering if he was having a cramp or something.

Picking up the pen, you walked over to your student to return it, putting it in front of him on his desk, as Itadori managed an awkward, “Thank you!” while trying to take it. His movements seemed unnatural, sort of revolting as you could see his muscles tense and release beneath his skin. This was weird, right? You weren’t imagining things this time, or were you?

The answer was taken from you as his hand suddenly flinched, body jolting over the table to grab for your wrist, and you barely had the time to react. You knew what you had to do, jujutsu was like second nature for you, but the surprise hit harder now that your body was actually trying to have an opinion on Itadori.

Still, you were going in for the kill. If it had to be you or the boy, then you were your priority, no matter how much your heart already seemed to regret having to do this. What you didn’t expect was... he was faster. “Ita--?” you managed to press out before you were hit roughly in your face.

Your eyes shut close as his second hand reached for your head, fingers clawing into your hair and skin, sinking into the hollows of your skull and digging in. Despite it all, you managed to open your eyes again, one covered by the palm and clouded in darkness, the other one staring right into what you hoped - and at the same time feared - where two red irises staring back; Two that belonged to the same face, but different pairs of eyes.

“Unfortunately, I think this lesson ends prematurely. A shame, I do like watching you even if it’s just from the back.”

Even though you could not assign the voice to anyone you met before, your body froze up almost instantly as you watched the face back away from you, showing you half of a lopsided grin. The expression spreading out on his face was none you would have thought Itadori was capable of. “You can’t blame the boy, he was trying so hard to keep me away from you,” the person before you spoke, and the unappreciated realization of who was standing in front of you took over your mind.

Sukuna.

Almost instantly, as you thought his name, black marks began to spread over Itadori’s skin, crawling deep down to his chest and appearing back on this arms. “I finally found a fine woman, and yet it took me months to get to you. We have to commend him for that, don’t we?”

The more he talked, the less you felt incapable of moving. Despite the fear feeling like a blizzard freezing you up, you warmed your body with thoughts of who you were. You were a graduate of this very same school. You had survived so many spirits, but seen so many good men fall. If this was your turn to die, you wouldn’t go down like prey in the eyes of your hunter.

Gripping his wrist with both your hands, his grip tightened unbearably so, but you pressed the words out of your mouth anyway. “What do you want?” you brought forth through gritted teeth, and Sukuna’s lips curled into an almost pleasant, yet condescending smile. “Just you,” he explained, suddenly letting go of your face, making you stumble forward.

But the next moment, you felt his pointer against your forehead. In a wondrous moment of clarity, you realized what was going on. You’d not let him have his way and give that spirit what he wanted, but it was too late to make use of your abilities and blow off his arm or your own head in an attempt to flee. All you got was darkness and the feeling of everything around you collapsing to the ground as you blacked out.

 “Fuck,” you winced as your mind slowly regained conscience. The ground you were laying on could only be described as fluid, but it wasn’t wet at all. Nevertheless, when you opened your eyes, you jolted up and into a seat, seeing all the red that covered the surroundings. If not for the buzzing energy of this place, you might have thought you were dead. With the memories of the happenings returning to you as you tried to remember, you wished you actually were.

“Finally awake, I see,” a voice called out, amusement and mockery laying in its tone. Your eyes caught the sight of the hundreds of skulls first before it managed to lift high enough to see the special grade cursed spirit splayed out enthroned on them. “Welcome to my world,” he grinned, and it made a shudder run down your spine while you began glancing around carefully.

“What did you do?” you asked, seeing nothing but darkness and bones wherever you looked. “Why am I here?”

“Ah, so many questions,” Sukuna sighed, your head snapping forward as you heard footsteps in front of you. “Isn’t it great that we’ll have a lot of time to clear them up?”

You didn’t react to this, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you would humor him. Still, you eyed his hand suspiciously as he squatted down, reaching out to caress your face. You almost feared a cut from his sharp nail along your cheek, but nothing happened, and you noticed his eyes almost transfixed on his finger on your skin. “Where’s my body?”

“Safe,” he mumbled, appearing to be in thought. But just as quickly, his eyes snapped up to meet yours again. “Figured it out already, haven’t you?”

“What could someone like you want from my soul, even dragging it here for no apparent reason?”

“Told you, didn’t I? I just want you; the rest is a surprise!”

Standing up again, Sukuna spread his arms open as if he was inviting you in to them. “Don’t be so stiff, Darling. We’ll have fun here!”

“Darling?!” you croaked in disbelieve, spouting the words which were absolutely revolting to you. “Don’t worry,” Sukuna chuckled.

“You’ll come to like me soon enough.”

Breaking Down The Classic Rom-Com

I feel like I haven’t written a fun post in a hot sec so lets talk about one of my favorite subjects: Rom Coms

According to wikipedia, a Rom Com, also known as Romantic Comedy, is “a subgenre of comedy and slice-of-life fiction, focusing on lighthearted, humorous plot lines centered on romantic ideas, such as how true love is able to surmount most obstacles.” In the past, Romantic Comedies have also been called “Chick Flicks” but I think this is devaluing of both women and  the romantic comedy genre. 

The other day, I woke up to find that the most wholesome rom-com couple of all time reunited: Matty & Jenna (Aka Mark Ruffalo & Jennifer Garner). This got me thinking about the beauty of the Rom-Com and how unappreciated they can be. It has been years since we have seen a rom-com with the cultural impact of 13 Going on 30, and I would like to petition for more of them after a sad and painful year. 

I can already hear the millions (in my head this blog is extremely popular) of comments “What about To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before?!?” “What about The Kissing Booth?!?” And too that I say, "Good Riddance!” If you’re rating your rom coms on a TATBILB scale, or even WORSE The Kissing booth, I feel sorry for you. Truly I do. So let's dive into the best Rom Coms of all time, but first... 

What makes a Rom-Com good? Well let's start with a relatable as hell main character. I am talking a girl (sometimes guy), who has many flaws, but the audience can see themselves within her/him. Let's use Jenna Rink from 13 Going On 30 as an example. Well, she's literally a 13 year old in a 30 year olds body, but don’t we all still have a preteen hiding inside of all of us? She is 100% willing to be herself at every step, even if that means dancing thriller all alone. She touches on all of our insecurities, while teaching us how to break down our walls. 

Rom-Coms also need characters to make realistic choices. This does not mean that the movie itself is realistic, but rather than you can understand the choices the characters make. Again, 13 going on 30 does a fabulous job of this. Obviously, Jenna traveling in time because of wishing powder is not realistic, but the choices that her and her past self make are. Due to the insecurities of her childhood and a need to feel included, relevant, and powerful Jenna pushes important people out of her life, which happens to so many people in the real world. These decisions force her to miss out on the love of her life, and ultimately, the story ends sadly: the love of her life marries someone else and she is left with tears, wishing powder, and an old doll house. That is until she is able to travel back in time and change the course of her life. 

Lastly, Every classic Rom-Com couple needs to have chemistry. There. I said it. Hollywood loves just casting random famous actors without giving them a proper chemistry read. One great example of this is Julianne Hough and Josh Duhamel in Safe Haven. Both fun, famous, Hollywood actors who have zero chemistry. Mark Ruffalo and Jennifer Garner had more chemistry throwing back Razzles than those two did during an intimate sex scene. 

Alright, now that we have broken down the requirements of a Romantic Comedy, let's jump into the best and worst of all time.

Best: When Harry Met Sally. 9/10. A classic. A tale as old as time. Both Sally & Harry are very flawed, yet relatable characters. Sally is too picky and particular, while Harry is a player. They both suck at relationships, but make rational decisions based on their motivations. We all have friends like these two and their chemistry is on point, both on a friendship and romantic level. They bounce off of one another splendidly. 

Worst: Sleepless in Seattle. 1/10 I know, this is a strong take, but this is a terrible movie about a stalker. Meg Ryan (I don’t even remember her character's name) is the stupidest most unrelatable character I have seen in a long time. She is extremely unlovable, cheats on her SO emotionally, and flies across the country to stalk a man that she has never met before. And then you’re telling me that Tom hanks FALLS FOR HER? Nope. No. I refuse to except this. Plus, their chemistry in this is pretty mediocre (You’ve Got Mail is Way Better) and we only get to see them together once. 

Best: 10 Things I Hate About You. 8/10. I was tempted to leave all high School Rom-Coms off this list, but Heath Ledger is my exception. Talk about likability. Kat is a strong, powerful, independent woman who learns how to be more vulnerable while still being a feminist badass. We all wanted to be Kat growing up. Meanwhile Heath Ledger is the classic bad boy with a soft side, and who wasn’’t into that? Both characters grow into new people throughout the movie making them relatable, complex, and realistic. Not to mention the angel that is Joseph Gordon Levitt, who keeps the audience up beat and smiling throughout the course of this Shakespeare tale

Best: My Big fat Greek Wedding. 10/10.  Have you seen this film recently? Because it is an absolute DELIGHT and so relatable. It dives into the difficulty of family expectation and cultures merging. It also has the cutest proposal of all time with a realistic couple that fights for one another on a daily basis. You laugh. You cry. You get a dynamic cast with wonderful chemistry. You feel invested in the family and the relationship. Just a joyful wonderful film.

Worst: Something Borrowed. 0/10. If you’ve never seen this movie, don’t. Ginnifer Goodwin sleeps with her best friends fiancé and we’re supposed to be okay with it because she liked him first. Hard pass. And she ignores John Krazinski who is right in front of her. She is unlikable, unreliable, and makes dumb decisions that no one else would. 

Best: He’s just not that into you. 9/10  I will go to bat for this movie. It follows several realistic storylines in a Love Actually manor, except they actual seem legit. A woman realizing her boyfriend is never going to marry her. A girl facing the fact that maybe some guys just aren’t that into her, and she isn’t an exception to the rule. A man slowly making the decision to cheat on his wife as they are growing apart. A woman realizing that she is worth way more than her bastard husband. A woman realizing that the person she’s sleeping with will never leave his wife for her. It's compelling, has realistic characters that we can relate to, and still warms your heart in the end. 

Best: The Big Sick. 8/10. Okay to be fair, this is based on a true story so it automatically has realistic characters and decisions. Maybe I should leave this off of the list, but I wish this film got the recognition it deserves. Two lovable main characters who make mistakes that are understandable. Wonderful chemistry between Kumail and his girlfriend as well as her family. 

Best: About Time. 11/10 This is hands down the best Rom-Com of all time and Potentially the best film of all time as well. If you don’t cry in this movie you do not have a heart or soul. The characters are SO insanely likable and adorable.It touches on the importance of family and valuing time and how little of it we have. The chemistry within the whole cast is palpable, and we can all relate to at least one character, whether it is the protagonist Tim, his wife Mary, his sister Kit-Kat, or his father. 

Well it is important to point out the obvious here: this list is lacking diversity in a huge way. All but one of these movies follow a cis, straight, white couple, and that is extremely concerning. People have attempted to make more diverse rom-coms over the past few years, but they all seem to be lacking one of the three core components of what makes a rom-com great: Relatable, realistic, and great chemistry. For example. Crazy Rich Asians was a fantastic film, but the high level of wealth that Nick Young comes from, made his character difficult to relate to, and I’m sorry but the chemistry just wasn’t there for me. Always Be My Maybe’s characters fell flat and it’s not a film I would want to watch more than once. Love Simon made some huge waves for LGBTQ representation in the media, but that ending kiss was unrealistic along with his friends reaction to fining out he was lying, which left the movie anti-climactic by the end. 

Now, the most recent film on this list was made in 2017. And before that 2013. So where have all the Rom Coms gone? Why don’t we see more of them. There are a few Rom Coms that could be contenders on the “Best” list from the last couple of years that include a small amount of diversity: 

Yesterday 7/10. The big question here is does this count as a romantic comedy? The love story isn’t the main plot, but is definitely a large sub-plot. This movie features an interracial couple and is highly re-watchable. The main characters are entertaining, relatable, and have pretty good chemistry. We will see if it stands the test of time. 

The Broken Hearts Gallery 7/10. This movie has gotten NO recognition. The main character, Lucy, is an extremely likable 20 something, not unlike our Ginnifer Goodwin in He’s Just not that Into You. The plot is fun and predictable but keeps you watching. I don’t know if this one will stay on my list long, but it’s definitely up there. 

But here is my challenge to Hollywood: create some new, beautiful Rom Coms that celebrate diversity but that don’t throw away the relatable, realistic, and high chemistry characters that we are just waiting to fall in love with. It’s got like 16 ideas up my sleeve, so just give me a call Hollywood. 

Always There (Faramir x Gender Neutral!reader)

Request: I'd like to send a Faramir request! And I thought maybe just some fluff, confessing their love to each other? ~ @midearthwritings

Word count: 2249 (sorry I got carried away, it was fun lol)

Warnings: The teensiest bit of angst, fluff, and kissing?

A/N Alright, I thoroughly enjoyed making this one, I always love me some Faramir! Just for reference, I have not gotten to Return of the King yet, I have only watched the movie, so if something seems to be incorrect, my deepest apologies. And yes, I bent the story to match my thoughts. It’s fine. Thank you so much to @guardianofrivendell for helping me with some scenes! Also, a Quisby is a lazy-ass and a yaldson is the son of a prostitute. I looked up medieval insults and thought they were pretty funny. May or may not be using them on my friends...

Denethor was a quisby, a yaldson. You clenched your jaw, seething with anger. You couldn’t say much, for fear of upsetting the king, no, the Steward. But he was sending his only son left to battle. A battle that he could not win. No one would survive. Wasteful. And he sent the love of your life.

Faramir had always been special to you. When you were younger you were closer with Boromir, but as you all grew up, fitting the molds made for you, things changed. Boromir was always learning policy and diplomacy as his father’s right hand. Faramir was left behind with the lesser jobs, that most would consider unpleasant for someone used to a grandeur life. You bonded quickly, soon knowing even the most minuscule details about each other. And all was well. Until Osgiliath was taken again. With Boromir’s success came more criticism of Faramir. This also led to Boromir sent to a secret council regarding a weapon that could change the war. But Boromir never returned from the mission. He never made it back home. To Faramir and you. 

Denethor took the news horribly, but nothing compared to Faramir. He was distraught, hiding the most of his pain. He only confided in you, how lost and unappreciated he felt. He didn’t understand how those words also hurt you, carving deeper into the fresh wound of grief. He didn’t realize how much you appreciated him, how blind he was to your love. It was all you could do to not unravel then and there, piece by piece. But you held strong, for his sake. He had no one left but you. His father did not care for him. His brother who showered him with affection and praise was gone. It was just you two. 

And now he was gone, sent on a death mission, little chance of making it back. You found yourself in your room, not remembering how you got there. Tears were streaming down your face, slowing down to your chin. You went onto the balcony, luckily one that did not face the battle. It would be unbearable to see it. You curled up, your back pressed against the cool stone. You wished you had told him. Told him how you had felt. You relished the memories you shared with him. Even though he only saw you as a friend, no more. The day passed quickly, but you stayed where you were, hidden. And then, a horn sounded. They were back. At least whoever was left. But there were worse things heading towards the gates. Gondor was under attack.

You rushed to the gates, your thoughts clouded with panic. Only one thought was constant. Where was Faramir? You reached the guards at the front. 

“What happened? Who made it back?” You said hurriedly, seeing no signs of injury in the guards nearby. 

“Only the Captain of Gondor made it back ma’am, he was injured horribly. Taken back to the citadel is what I heard. Hardly going to last the night.” The guard looked at you, concerned. “Are you the one Faramir talked about? I was by his side all through Osgiliath. Pardon me if I’m mistaken, but you like precisely like what he described.”

You bowed your head, cheeks a hint darker than normal. It didn’t matter, he only talked about you as a friend. And besides, he was horribly injured. This should be the last thing on your mind. “Aye, that would be me. But excuse me, I must be on my way. I need to find him.” 

You turned from the slightly bemused guard and walked as quickly as you could without causing alarm. Although at this point, everybody had to have known about Faramir. Everyone except you. You turned a corner, quite distracted, and slammed into someone. 

“Oh, I am terribly sorry I- what on Middle Earth?” You stuttered. A child looked up at you, no, not a child, but he was small enough to be a child. Not a dwarf though. Something completely different. 

“Oh hello there! I’m guessing you have never seen a hobbit before! My name is Pippin, and don’t worry about accidentally running into me, it happens a lot. You look very in distress. What is wrong? Also, I am looking for a friend, so if you happen to see him please let me know.” The hobbit, Pippin babbled. You were a bit overwhelmed from everything you were going through but luckily found the patience to deal with this energetic hobbit. 

“Oh, I am looking for a friend as well, his name is Faramir if you manage to find him. And don’t worry little one, I am just worried for his sake.” You responded back quickly, hoping to move on your way. 

Unfortunately for you, the hobbit had different plans. “Oh yes, I am also looking for Faramir, as well as Gandalf. I saw him being led away, and I heard a mutter about the Steward going insane. I am trying to find him to help. But the trouble is brewing, and the fighting will start soon. I am worried, very worried.” Pippin babbled on as you searched the streets for this Gandalf. 

After a little while, he finally saw who he was looking for. He explained quickly what was going on and why he needed to check on Faramir. 

“Faramir is alive but Denethor wants to burn him. He thinks he's dead. ” Pippin spoke hurriedly, already rushing Gandalf along. 

You gasped. “You did not tell me that Denethor was trying to burn him! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Pippin looked confused. “I didn’t tell you? I could have sworn I did.”

You shook your head, your heart racing even faster than it had been before. To make things even worse, you could hear the sounds of battle. The city had finally been breached. Luckily you were far up enough that the orcs hadn’t reached you...yet. Gandalf was farther ahead of you, and you quickened your strides to match his. He turned and looked at you, his eyes piercing yours. You had the strangest feeling that your mind was being invaded. 

“Patience child. We will stop that lunatic before anything happens. He will be alright.” He turned away again as if he hadn’t said a word. You gaped, it was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. He seemed familiar, but you didn’t know why. But alas, it did not matter at this moment, and you refocused your mind back on who you were trying to save. Faramir. 

As you hurried along, you tried your hardest to remember. His smile. The dimples on his cheeks. How much fun you two had together. Running through the markets when you were younger, causing trouble, but laughing all the way. How he would be publicly humiliated by his father. How you would be there for him, comfort him, make him happier. The hidden smiles in the throne room, the silent laughter, and inside jokes.

You were quickly brought back to the present as some stone shattered right behind you, showering big chunks of rock. You ducked quickly and grabbed the hobbit, making him run faster. You had to get out of there. Gandalf showed you two through a small alley, and all too soon you had arrived at the top. But Faramir and Denethor were nowhere to be seen. Somehow, Gandalf knew exactly where they were, and took you to a smaller room, that was barricaded. He slammed open the doors as if it were nothing, and you ran right into a horrifying scene. 

Denethor was standing on top of a pile of wood, and Faramir lay at his feet, both drenched in oil. Some soldiers had torches in their hands, and some looked hesitant. Everything drained away, all sound was muffled. All you could see was Faramir, and it was as if he knew you there. He rustled slightly and looked straight at you. His lips moved wordlessly, and you couldn’t move, an invisible force stopping you. 

A scream and then fire engulfed the wood, Faramir was taken from your view. Your feet finally decided to start moving, and both you and Pippin ran towards the pyre, grabbing Faramir before the flames could engulf him. Another screech and then you realized that Denethor had been taken by the flames. He ran off to who knows where, and the guards left quickly, helping to aid in the battle. 

It was soon just you, Faramir, Pippin, and Gandalf. Faramir’s eyes were closed, but his heart was still beating. You cradled his head in your lap, softly brushing his hair out of his face. 

“Gandalf, will he be alright?” You asked tentatively, not daring to even look away from Faramir. 

Gandalf sighed. “With time he will heal. But whether he will heal from the pain in his heart is unclear to me. He has been through far too much, as most have in such times, and for your sake, I hope he perseveres.”

You and Gandalf helped Faramir up, who at this point was able to open his eyes slightly. You both brought him to his room, as the medical wing was a greater distance. Pippin trailed behind like a lost puppy. The poor hobbit had probably never seen such violence in his life. You laid him in his bed, and Gandalf bid a quick goodbye, herding Pippin out. 

It was just you and Faramir. You knelt at his bedside and grasped his hand, waiting, hoping, for anything. More memories ran through your mind. He taught you how to use a sword, to protect yourself if need be. And then on your birthday, he had gotten you a sword of your own, beautifully crafted, and balanced perfectly. It was quite a gift to receive, and you protested, but to no avail. It was in your room, hidden so that no one could take it. You remembered how your hands tingled when he gave it to you, just the slightest brush of fingers. But you were young and naive. 

He stirred, and his eyes opened, looking at the ceiling. Then he tilted his head towards you and looked down at your intertwined hands. You stopped breathing for a second, nervous that you might have overstepped your bounds. 

“I am still alive. What happened with my father? I remember the smell of smoke.” Faramir’s voice was raspy still, and quiet.

You looked away, trying to figure out what to tell him. You were the bearer of bad news this time it seemed. “Your father thought you dead and was going to have you burned. I showed up with Gandalf and Pippin only moments before it was to happen. ”

He groaned and turned away. But he held on tighter to your hand, as if you were his lifeline, the one last thing keeping him there with you. “Faramir,” you said hesitantly, “I-I was so afraid of losing you. I never want to lose you again. I-” You broke off, too afraid to say what was on your mind. He was looking right at you, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Continue, please,” he said. He reached his other hand across his body, softly grazing your arm. 

You smiled slightly, taking in a shaky breath. “I love you Faramir. And I have for a long time. I am not creative enough to give a whole speech about my love for you, but my love for you is worthy of a speech if needed.”

Faramir smiled, the brightest you had ever seen it. “I love you too my dear, more than anything, and I am so sorry I never said anything before. Please forgive me.”

Then he slowly reached his hand up to your face, and you leaned towards him. But you went a bit too fast, and accidentally slammed your nose onto his, causing you both to cry out in pain. You felt like you were going to cry, you ruined the special moment. But then he smiled and started laughing so hard. You were so embarrassed, but you also started chuckling. 

In between breaths, Faramir choked out, “Clearly, neither of us have done this.”

You nodded, keeping back a grin.

He cracked a smile, trying to hold in his laughter. But then he sobered up. “Well, I think we should try that again. Help me sit up?”

You felt even more butterflies in your stomach as you propped up a pillow for him and helped him up. You leaned back to make sure he was comfortable, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back. You laughed again, and he smiled. He traced a finger up your arm and all the way up to the back of your neck. He leaned in first, making an emphasis on how slow he was moving, but you were too nervous to laugh. Softly, he pressed his lips against yours. You barely moved, not daring to. But you slowly melted as he moved his other hand to the small of your back. You moved your hands, knotting them in his hair, pulling you even closer together. His lips molded against yours, slightly chapped, making you shiver. Ever so slowly, he began to pull away, much to your dismay. But he still held you in arms. 

Slowly, you whispered, “We should have done that sooner.” 

Faramir nodded and pulled you closer. “Thank you,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.