Been reading howls moving castle lately and i do love how idgaf maxxing sophie is about. Everything. Learns her sisters swapped places bc one wanted to learn magic while the other wanted a family😐👍 gets turned into an old lady by the wicked witch of the waste😐👍 meets a fire demon and makes a contract w him before taking a nap on a cozy chair😐👍 learns shes a witch ans has been speaking magic into every hat she ever made😐👍 like i strive to give that little of a fuck. Which is contrasted to howl going on a neurotic spiral every two pages
its good to acknoweldge the hollowness of revenge but sometimes you really do just need a story about someone who gets hurt and then kills and kills and kills and kills their enemies. its cathartic, babey.
"there's nothing that can bring my loved one back, so there's no point in killing you" and "there's nothing that can bring my loved one back, so there's nothing that can save you" are two themes that can and should co-exist
Fighting against oppression no matter what form it takes, be it a corrupt king, rival pirates, or a system of government that controls the whole world
The only way to make a change when stuck in a situation that's actively taking away your freedom and rights is by force
Racism and discrimination are complicated issues that cannot be solved over night, it takes a combined effort to reach an understanding and to change people's views, and even if you can't let go of your own hatred because of the horrible things you've experienced, you shouldn't pass that hatred onto the next generation and instead allow them to form their own opinions through their own lived experiences
Freedom and liberation are basic human rights
Everyone, no matter who they are, should have access to food and water
Healthcare should be readily available to anyone who needs it
It's incredibly important to not only learn, but understand and preserve history, because those who seek power will go out of their way to destroy inconvenient information, erasing the stories of those who no longer have a voice, dooming society into forever repeating the same mistakes without ever learning from them
Children shouldn't suffer because of the actions of their parents
Loid doesn't think Yor is odd because as far as he knows she supported herself and her brother by doing sex work at a young age of course she knows how to throw a punch and kick a man through a wall. That's why he never clocks her freaky strength or judges what he believes is her past. He knows that it's tough out there and that you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.
Yuri's weird possessive obsession with Yor makes sense when you realize that as far as he knows she supported them both as children by going off with creepy old men and coming home bruised and bloody. He thinks she was forced to become a sex worker because he wasn't strong enough to protect her. That's why he gets so weird whenever he thinks about her and Loid getting intimate and why in the beginning he feels like he needs to control her love life by setting her up with guys (that he's fully vetted and can easily blackmail if needed). To him, Loid is just the latest in a long line of creeps that he can't protect his sister from.
Meanwhile, Yor, bless her dumb jock heart, has no idea that people are making these assumptions about her and genuinely thinks that she is getting good grades in being a normal woman, a goal that is both possible to achieve and normal to want.
I think the most hilarious place to put Post-Canon Sokka would have been the university at Ba Sing Se. I think he would have made a great unhinged professor. Also, in true Sokka fashion, he should have completely dodged fame. Momo is more famous than he is.
He wants to demonstrate to the class how this thing called electricity works, so he's going to be bringing in a Firebender, so everybody be cool, we're all friends here... and in walks Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. One-time conqueror of the city. One of the students is currently writing an essay on how her brief rule of the city affected fruit trade. She says she considers the class to still be her subjects as she doesn't acknowledge any pretenders to any of her thrones, but for now you're exempted from bowing and "Your Highness" will do. It's a really interesting lecture.
"Okay, guys - hey, listen up, everyone - I won't be here next week, me and Aang are going to-" yeah right, sure, Professor Sokka knows the Avatar. Except, of course, the Avatar walks in sheepishly and says that Appa might have gotten into Sokka's hybrid crops, and then you all have to sit there and watch your professor chase the Avatar around with a sword.
One postgrad student is specializing in Water Tribe Cultures. She's currently studying the massive cultural shift that happened in the Northern Water Tribe at the end of the war - oh, and Professor, I absolutely know that you're from the Southern Water Tribe, but it's just that the shift started with Master Katara, and of course I don't think that every person from the South knows one another haha it's just that I need to ask her some questions and I thought maybe you could help me write a letter or write a letter of introduction or...
Sokka looks at her blankly and goes "yeah, she's my sister. KATARA!" which is followed by a faint answering "fuck you!" from Somewhere and to the horror/elation of our postgrad, Master Katara bursts in and is promptly beaned in the head with a rock by Professor Sokka. Her brother. her hero and her professor are siblings and currently brawling on the floor.
Sokka does not teach or study history, but he does sometimes sit in on lectures about recent history. Whenever he does, several doctoral students flock in to sit near him (even if it's an intro course) so that they can eavesdrop on his grumbling. (No matter how they try, an "overheard utterance" is not a valid source according to their professors. No, we have no sources on the Avatar's bison taking part in combat - sky bison are not war animals and...)
He gets regular deliveries with the Beifong family crest on them, and he goes "sweet, Toph must have found some new minerals" and at this point nobody needs to ask which Toph. He seems to have friends everywhere, literally everywhere. Wang was headed out to this massive swamp to study if it's one big organism, and Sokka told him to find some guy named Hue and "don't mind the loincloth." One time the university gets shut down because the Earth King wants to visit. Oh, visit the University? What an honor- Of fucking course not, he wants to visit Professor Sokka, who yells at him and his royal guards for interrupting his day. The Earth King and his many, many royal guards then sheepishly say sorry and file out.
The last straw is when - not a week after he yelled at the Earth King - the assistant head of the Political Science dept walks in to the faculty lounge to find Sokka having tea with a nice normal man dressed in Earth greens for once, and can't resist a little joke. "Let me guess, you're having tea with the Fire Lord." And then she can instantly tell that she fucked up, because both of them go stock still.
So when the two men awkwardly stand up and proceed to introduce the Fire Lord whose portrait she has in her office because she is the assistant head of Political Science as Li, a server at the Jasmine Dragon, she just says "hello Li" and leaves to find a bottle of something strong.
ok I'm sure this has been said but Sokka striding into a fucking Fire Nation school as Wang Fire is incredible & has swagger, considering that the origin for Wang is "King" in Old Chinese. I know most of this website is usamerican, so, I'll try to put this in a slightly lopsided, mostly vibes-based, and thoroughly unserious analogy:
The year is 1968, the height of the Vietnam War. A young Vietnamese dude and his sister walk into a conservative Christian school in Texas, United States to meet the principal. Not even batting an eyelash, the guy goes "Howdy, my name's President America, this is my wife Miss America, and we're here about our son, Jimmy."
(Later, it turns out that Jimmy is Jesus, and he threw a hippie party in a cave for the school kids. He was enrolled for two days.)
You know, in my first proper rewatch in 10 years of Mob Psycho, I'm finding the themes hitting even harder than they did on my first watch. And I don't think it's that I understood the messages less the first time. But I think the circumstances have changed.
When mp100 season 1 aired in the summer of 2016, Trump was a joke who wasn't going to win anything. Legalization of gay marriage had happened pretty recently, with what felt like a lot of momentum and support. "Manosphere influencers" had no foothold and were relegated to incel forums that received much derision. Covid hadn't happened. Q-anon hadn't happened. The economy was "good" insofar as it was pre-inflation, and you could get a job if you focused on the "right" degree, and the whole market wasn't hung on the clothesline of AI.
It wasn't perfect of course, by no means. And the seeds of most things I listed above did exist. But the snowball of things which have mounted since then has been... horrific, honestly.
"Hey Chrissy wasn't this post about Mob Psycho 100?" It is, and it's actually about narratives of young men lost in life trying to figure out how to grow up "right." Between 2016 and now, I've probably seen glimpses of a hundred forgettable anime where the young male protagonist learns how to achieve this--and learns how to do it by becoming strong, by becoming strong enough to crush the enemies that threaten your loved ones (which enemies? who is an enemy? never mind that. there is an enemy. they want to crush what belongs to you. you are a protector.) It's about becoming Powerful Enough to hurt evil, and Powerful Enough to protect your woman, and Powerful Enough to harm harm harm (the correct target).
And that narrative is not new either, of course!!! But that narrative just has gotten stronger, and more salient, and more commonplace in such a reactionary cultural time. More individualistic. More fearful. More distrusting. You have Enemies!! We have so many Enemies who are trying to Take What Belongs To You! And you stop that by becoming Strong; a Man Becomes Strong, A Man Destroys Enemies, A Man Protects.
And it feels so... heartening. So nice. To pick up Mob Psycho 100 again 10 years down the road with our typical coming-of-age young man protagonist. And he's a loser, and girls don't notice him, but he's secretly powerful. He's so powerful he could crush all his enemies in his grip.
And with every single breath the narrative takes it says, "No, he won't harm people with his powers. Because powers are like knives, and you don't point those at people." It says "He refuses to believe his powers make him special. He wants to grow as a person in other ways, and specifically in ways that challenge him, and ways he's not good at, because he refuses to take his gift as a carte-blanche pass for being important." It says "Even if you have powerful and violent abilities, you alone can't manufacture any of the things you use in your daily life. We all rely on everyone else to make our world work."
And there IS real kindness in the world, in the places Mob looks for it and chooses to believe in it. Even as a loser in school, his classmates aren't cruel and terrible. They're nice to him when they interact! They're just people living their own lives. The Body Improvement Club are the strongest boys in school, but they adhere to their code stronger than anyone. Their muscles aren't for fighting. They don't leave members behind. They adore Mob, no mind at all for the fact that he started at the bottom. And this is masculinity! This is what a man should be. Strong, sure, but mindful, compassionate, principled, cooperative, disciplined, and upstanding.
The con-man who is using Mob for his powers is also the one who set Mob on the path of trusting he doesn't have to hurt people. Usually you'd expect the message to be that a young man has to step up and fight and protect his loved ones, but No, Actually, It's Okay To Run Away.
Let an adult help. Share your burdens. Believe you are important but don't believe you're more important than others. Believe that people can change. Believe you can change. Don't be goaded into violence. Don't get taken by hatred. You are the protagonist of your own life, and so is everyone else, remember that.
There is nothing more rage inducing for me than receiving a text message when I’m overstimulated. Feeling my phone vibrate when I’m barely clinging on and internally I’m like “I HATE PHONES. I HATE THEM. AGHHHHH WHY DOES EVERYONE ALWAYS WANT SOMETHING FROM ME, EVERYTHING IS SO FUCKING DIFFICULT- Oh, my mommy is asking me what kind of aftershave I want for my birthday.”
"I love you but you're doing wrong in a way I cannot condone" and "I hate you but you're being wronged in a way I cannot stomach" are top tier and I need more of them.
Victor Frankenstein syndrome aka you spent nights over nights crying and bleeding over this work and now that it's finally done you're just like "nvm. it's trash" and go to bed
It's thinking about Darcy desperately yearning running into Elizabeth at Pemberley hours.
Like, you fell in love with this woman, but rationally (pridefully) you though it wasn't something you should pursue. But you can't forget her, and then she's at Rosings... and the more you see her - with her wit, her eyes, the liveliness of her mind - the more she undoes every expectation of who you should marry that you'd ever had. You prolong your trip to see more of her, you start imagining what it will be like married to her and unwisely after only seeing her again for a week begin asking how she'd feel living far away from Longbourn, and even hint things like she'd be staying at Rosings next time she visits Kent.
It's too much. You're feeling too much.
She's due to visit for tea the night before you take leave, and an evening gives far more opportunity for privacy and conversation than sitting in Mrs Collins' drawing room for half an hour the next day.
But she doesn't come, she's feeling ill, and you won't see her. If you don't make an effort, you might never see her again. It's not like Bingley will be going back to Netherfield anytime soon, after all.
You bail on the evening and go check if she's ok.
It's late, but you have to see her.
She's not super friendly when answering your questions about whether she's feeling better, yet that's to be expected when someone has a headache. But she's there, sitting with you quietly, and then you're so agitated that you begin pacing.
It's inescapable. You love her too much.
You'll marry her, and deal with all the impropriety of her family's connections and behaviour. She's worth it.
Because of course she'll say yes. You've been so open that she must be expecting your addresses. It doesn't occur to you that you're wrong to assume she's wishing for it.
Then she rejects you.
And she doesn't only reject you: she shatters your entire perception of self. Not immediately - oh, she creates a large crack, but it takes some time for you to do justice to her words. But they linger, inescapably.
"Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner."
You're bitter, and angry, and hurt, and offended, and the sense of doubt isn't going away. But there is one thing you can do, that you have to do.
You write her a letter to explain yourself against the accusations she levied your way - some unjust, but others will eventually gnaw at you until you're forced to face them and stare directly at all the faults you didn't know you had.
You know it won't make her accept you.
The turn of her countenance you'll never forget, as she said that you could not have addressed her in any possible way that would induce her to accept you.
But you need to write the letter: to explain, to warn, and maybe - just maybe - make her think a little better of you.
If she even gives credit to anything you say.
She thinks so little of you she might dismiss your arguments and only hate you more for what you said of her family.
God, you basically insulted her family again in the letter. With an apology, yes, and as an explanation, but you knew at the time that those comments and what you divulged of Wickham would give her pain. But it's necessary. You still believe that, even as time goes on and you begin to wonder if all it achieved was making her hate you more.
The last time you saw her was as you handed her that letter.
She hadn't spoken.
You weren't yet master of your emotions enough to see her and be friendly, the best you could do was try be composed.
If only you'd been truly as calm and composed as you thought you were when you wrote that letter. You can see now that you wrote in a dreadful bitterness of spirit. There were some expressions you used, the opening of it, which alone would be enough to justify her hate. Though, despite your emotions, you never doubted for a moment in her goodness - never doubted that she won't spread around what you divulged of your sister.
She hates you, but all the reasons you love her are still there.
That's something that doesn't change as you slowly unravel the flaws her reproofs revealed to you and you try to become the person you always thought you were. So many behaviours, and the emotions that governed them, were not what they ought to be. Your principles were always good but you followed them in pride and conceit.
You were blind until she cut you to the quick. Opened your eyes to yourself and taught you such a hard lesson - but it was for the best. She properly humbled you and taught you how insufficient all your pretensions were to please a woman worthy of being pleased. Even if you never see her again you will be worthy of the title gentleman.
You will work to become the person you want to be.
Her rejection doesn't hurt so much as the knowledge that she was right and you failed yourself and so many others. Any anger or blame you felt for her words when refusing your hand are long since passed. If she had been able to overlook those flaws she wouldn't have been the woman you love.
The more you reflect and seek to rectify your behaviour the clearer it all becomes. In trying to understand yourself you realise that so many of these flaws have existed almost your whole life. And yet, despite how obvious it now seems, you had no idea.
Though your parents were good themselves they spoilt you - first as an only child, then as an only son - and you grew selfish and overbearing, caring only for your small family circle. Thinking meanly of the rest of the world, wanting to think meanly of their sense and worth compared to your own.
You owe the world so much better.
Your position, far from giving you leave to treat others as inconsequential, means you have a duty to think of others and ensure they are not wronged. Yes, you've done that broadly - especially on your estate, and always with servants and the poor - but what of in smaller ways, to those closer to your own rank? Have you directly treated them with civility and respect?
You know the answer now, but you're doing your best to fix it.
For almost four months, you ruminate on her words and turn yourself into a gentleman you can respect. Someone worthy of the respect you've so rarely had to actually earn. Someone who might've been worthy of her respect from the beginning.
You've never stopped loving her.
Almost four months, and you're not sure if you'll ever see her again.
You certainly weren't expecting to leave the stables after arriving at Pemberley and find her standing in front of your house.
Your eyes meet.
You freeze in place.
Four months of distance and then twenty yards away from each other.
She's blushing (so are you).
Your brain is too surprised to work.
She's here.
She's here and you're just standing there.
You have to go to her. Even if you didn't still love her, it's the polite and friendly thing to. (But you do still love her, and so her presence is a physical weight in your chest that you could scarce resist).
She had turned away briefly, but turns back when you approach.
You hardly know what you say, she hardly raises her eyes to meet yours, but you hear her voice, and she doesn't sound annoyed when she answers that her family is well.
Honestly, despite how discomposed you are by seeing her without time to prepare, your instinct is to stay by her. Even if it means speaking like a fool. You're pretty sure you ask her when she started travelling and how long she's been in Derbyshire at least thrice. But you start to recollect yourself, breathing a little more evenly, and run out of things to say. Remembering that she's here with friends and you've just come from the road, you take your leave.
Your thoughts stay with her though.
She was still just as lovely as ever. More civil to you than you have any claim to.
Your housekeeper says a gentleman and two ladies were taking a tour of the house, and have now gone with the gardener to see the accustomed part of the park. You know the place.
As your valet helps you change your thoughts solidify: you can meet them, and, through every civility in your power, show her that you aren't resentful of the past.
She's so close, and you can't lose this chance to perhaps obtain her forgiveness, lessen her ill opinion, by showing that her reproofs have been attended to.
And, maybe, you're just desperate for any excuse to see her.
By now, you've been in love with her for more than eight months, despite trying, really trying, to forget her both when you left Hertfordshire and Kent. It's pointless, either you'll recover in time or you'll spend the rest of your life in love with her. At this point you don't even want to fight it. Despite the pain of her not feeling the same way, she did you the greatest good anyone could, by showing you who you really were. You improved yourself because you should, without any expectation of seeing her again, but one thing that you can't alter about yourself is your love for her.
Right now, what matters is being near her and showing her you can be a real gentleman.
So, you follow her and her companions to the stream.
She speaks first this time. Putting herself forward to be friendly and polite. Proof, surely, that she doesn't hate you so much anymore? She's almost her usual smiling self, though she goes red and silent while admiring Pemberley's beauty.
You can understand why - you had determined to not ask whether she liked your home in case it sounded like you were wondering whether she regretted rejecting you and thus Pemberley. You know she didn't mean anything by her praise (and she'd known you were rich when she turned you down) but you understand her sudden embarrassment.
Although... when did she start caring that you might misunderstand her and think badly of her? She didn't care the last time you met.
But that's not important now. It's for you to ease the conversation and prove yourself. So you change the subject, and ask her to do the honour of introducing you to her friends.
Her surprise is obvious, and fair. Seeking the acquaintance of strangers, even respectable-looking ones, just wasn't something you used to do regardless of what the well-bred and civil action was.
And what does it say about you - with all your newfound respect and civility - that you're still surprised when the fashionable couple she's with turn out to be the very aunt and uncle you'd previously declared would be a disgraceful connection. You recognised you were wrong to be so dismissive, so rude, but the core assumption that the tradesman brother of Mrs Bennet and his wife must be noticeably vulgar had clearly remained. Yet here they were, everything elegant and well-bred.
How right Elizabeth had been about you.
But now you can show her that was the past, and your manners are improved and prejudices lessened.
You walk back with them, talking to the uncle, who has intelligence, taste, and sense. You like him a surprising amount. He points out trout in the water, and you're glad to invite him to fish here while they stay in the area. You have all the supplies he might need, and know the best spots. As you speak with him your attention is only half distracted by who walks behind you at a short distance.
Hopefully her uncle's happiness makes her happy also.
You have the chance to see, when the walking arrangements change and then she's the one walking beside you.
Honestly, you're not immediately sure what to say, but again, she speaks first.
Yes, she almost certainly doesn't hate you anymore.
Her explanation that she'd been assured of your absence before visiting sounds more like she doesn't want you to think her rude, than expressing disappointment that you are here.
Yes, whatever her past insults, she definitely cares that you don't think badly of her...
As though you ever could.
In mentioning why you returned a day early you mention who you're with, and too late saying Bingley's name reminds you that the last time you two spoke of him was when she (rightfully) blamed you for separating Bingley and her sister.
That silences you for a moment - but she doesn't respond with anger.
Composing yourself, you ask if your sister might be introduced to her. You've spoken of Elizabeth so highly to Georgiana, and so often, that your sister would love to meet her. You don't need to ask - your sister is the social superior, her wishing for the acquaintance is strictly enough for the introduction to be made - but you want to. You mean it, when you ask Elizabeth whether you're asking too much by facilitating the introduction. You want her to have the chance to say no.
But she says yes.
(Even sounding pleased about it, though surprised.)
Which is also a yes to seeing you again during her stay at Lambton. Renewing your acquaintance, despite everything.
The happiness, however irrational, this creates cannot be quelled.
You love her too dearly to not appreciate every fragile overture and sign that she must no longer think you so bad. The letter - your own improved civility - one or both has done away with her dislike.
Replaced it with... well, anything other than dislike is a place to begin.
This time the silence stretches as you walk; she, perhaps, just as lost in thought as yourself.
You could get used to walking around Pemberley with her.
A dangerous thought.
You scarce know what to say as you wait by the carriage for her aunt and uncle to catch up, after she declared herself not tired when you asked if she wanted to come into the house. But, again, she makes the effort to talk to you. You've never spoken of Matlock or Dovedale so persistently, but you want to keep talking to her - hearing her voice - receiving her smiles - for every moment that you can steal.
Four months apart and then the first day seeing her again your heart loves her more than ever before.
And she no longer hates you.
You would have them all come inside, take refreshment, stay, please stay a little longer, but they felt it was time to return to the inn. They're leaving, but you've already organised to bring your sister to see her the day after tomorrow, so it's only a short parting.
Not another four months.
You hand her aunt up into the carriage - and then Elizabeth.
Who is dearest and loveliest to you still, though you might never be able to say those words to her.
You're so aware of feeling her hand in yours, though gloved; the weight and warmth of it. The brief tightening of her fingers on yours as she takes the step up, leaving you bereft when she lets go.
You don't watch them drive away, though you feel her absence palpably as you slowly walk back to the house.
But it's only two days - two days before you'll see her again.
And they're staying for a little while.
All of it is more chances to show her the person you are now. Both the good qualities you never properly revealed before, and the newer ones deliberately acquired to remedy the errors she revealed. Show her you're a man she might admire.
Perhaps a man she might one day be able to love.
It's almost embarrassing, to admit how quickly that wish introduced itself after seeing Elizabeth again.
It probably took under half an hour after you saw her again.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy being like, "I am 100% committed to respecting your 'no', but I heard you wouldn't promise my aunt not to marry me so I had to come and check just one (1) more time."
Actually, I know damn well Darcy never sat down and thought about marrying Lizzie. If he had, it would have been a week before he was rounding up Bingley, sitting him down, and looking him in the eye like he was about to propose high treason and going, "Jane. You still down bad for her?"
Coin toss whether Bingley would actually get to answer before Darcy turned around and flipped over a whiteboard like
and launched right into the most detailed migration pattern known to Regency England to keep the extraneous Bennets as contained as humanly possible by rotating them between various Bingley/Darcy estates. Like, we're talking about trading them off for minor holidays a decade out kind of detailed.
"If you and Jane take them for Lady Day ten years hence, Elizabeth and I will take them for Michaelmas. We'll all be together for Christmas and Midsummer, so we'll divide the responsibility individually on those days."
This would be followed by thirteen different spreadsheets projecting joint expenditures so Bingley knows what sort of financial commitment he'll be shouldering and how to minimize it, what proportion Darcy will take care of, what the estate plans are in case Darcy predeceases anybody, when they should probably roll out various stages to keep it from affecting their respective sisters' ability to maximize their own husband-hunting--whole nine yards.
Darcy does not know that he'll probably be murdered when the Bingley sisters find out why he asked for their social calendars. He'd be marginally fine with that at this point, because the fucking Napoleonic War campaigns were not as meticulously planned as his roadmap to getting the other three Bennets satisfactorily married, and Darcy feels about as able as if he'd spent the last year on Elba.
It takes Bingley a few minutes to realize why this is happening, then he's like
"You proposed to Elizabeth?! Congratulations!"
Darcy... knew there was something he was forgetting.
That man would have kicked the Collins's door open with four binders tucked under each arm, dumped them in a pile in front of Elizabeth, and loudly announced that if they get married tomorrow he can have her entire family except for Jane extraordinary renditioned to the Scottish moors by Sunday and then been like
"Why are you yelling at me?! I promise you, it will work! You'll never see anyone in your family except for Jane again, I swear it!" when she starts yelling at him.
Darcy’s introduction in Pride and Prejudice is really ‘what if you had just had the worst month of your life because your ex-bestie tried to lover boy scam your baby sister out of her share of your dad’s life insurance and your friend dragged you to a shitty party in a dive bar in the neighbourhood where he’d just signed a short term lease, and you decided to let your bad mood show because you were never going to see any of the assholes in this stupid shitty bar EVER again. And your friend ended up making out with a girl he’d just met there while you were stuck talking to her sister who was less cute and then her mother appeared and started trying to matchmake and started saying how if she was twenty years younger she’d clime you like a redwood and ooooh is that a black Amex, guess the next round is on you hahhahahahaha, while her other sister (how many fucking sisters does she have?!) flashed an obviously fake ID at the bar and ordered six vodka-diet red bulls and no one in her family except the less-cute sister even tried to stop her. And you went home and consoled yourself that you would never see any of these people again but then you met them over and over again because they live next door and your friend and the cute sister keep meeting up to make out but not actually date and then. You fall in love with the less-cute sister because it turns out she’s really witty and charismatic but she already knows and remembers and resents the fact that on a day when you were in a shitty mood you called her mid out loud in a dive bar.’
