#I wonder if that’s my fault as well like all my other failing friendships have been my fault so this one must be too right?

[whimsyprinx]

currently failing to cope with the fact that none of my friends feel like My Friend

[pastafossa]

I went through the second half of my ADHD testing today. And we had some time left. She asked me how I was feeling, towards the end, about the questions and the issues I'd talked about, and I told her about my anxiety and guilt over the things I'd mentioned, and my fear even now that I'd get through this whole process just to hear 'It's not ADHD, you're just lazy, just try harder.' When I told her that she gently said, "well I want you to know, you do have ADHD. You have it. You don't have to feel anxious about that anymore." And ya'll, the way I just started to cry.

I have it. I have it, and I class as 'severe' ADHD.

All those times as a kid I got in trouble with teachers for forgetting things or not being able to focus. All of the, 'you do well in reading, you're smart enough to focus on this, too, don't be lazy, you just need to try, why don't you care?'. All of the projects I started but couldn't finish, the forgetting to reply to messages and texts from friends and losing friendships over it, the clutter I can never seem to manage, my shit attention span, the way I couldn't just get shit DONE, the failed attempts over and over and over to organize and task manage and I don't understand, I'm trying, I promise I'm trying, please, I'm trying, why isn't it working. All those years spent wondering why I was such a fuckup when everyone else appeared to breeze through projects and Normal Adult Tasks without forgetting or losing focus.

And now I know it wasn't my fault. That I was trying. That I did care. That I wasn't lazy. My brain just... doesn't work the usual way. I was doing the best I could with the wrong tools, because all my life I've needed a screwdriver and all I had was a hacksaw. And now, NOW I can finally go to to the doctor for medication, go to therapists who can help and I can finally get the right set of tools. I know now one of the reasons I'm so anxious thanks to this: "I've found that people with late diagnoses often struggle with guilt and shame, and a lot of internalized ableism, because they've dealt for years with people accusing them of being lazy or just not caring."

It is so, so gd validating, especially on top of the surprise diagnosis of 'oh yeah and you're on the spectrum and that's why you've always struggled with these other things!' It feels like there's this weight off my shoulders and it's amazing.

[twyisontheline]

What if Alastor did try to fall in love with Vox

Thought to share an old radiostatic fluffyangsty headcanon... features internal-angst-about-his-aromanticism!Alastor

CW internalised arophobia

Alastor has never felt romantic attraction or feelings towards someone, in life or death. Now, with how strong amatonormativity is, he did try. He knew (thought) he was supposed to. It never worked. He reached the conclusion that he is fucked up. When he starts killing people, it almost makes sense - he's a psychopath, a monster, it must be related to not being able to love how other people do, how he should. How his mom would want him to love. He feels shame and guilt, even if he tries to push it all back down and tell himself that others are weak because of their feelings and it is something he would never want.

And it is something he doesn't want. But society tells him it makes one's life complete and makes you happy and fulfilled and he wonders. Is he broken in a way that prevents him from experiencing something so important and special?

Then he dies, and overall, life gets kinda easier. In the whole depravity and fucked-upness of Hell, there isn't an ideal happiness to wonder about. There isn't a society wanting you to marry and have kids and be normal and quaint. He can embrace being 'fucked up'.

Then he meets Vox. And slowly, the TV Demon finds a place in his heart. It's not unusual - Alastor does feel affection and platonic love, he knows he is able to feel that. And it has never been an issue that he doesn't feel romantic love, since none of his friends has ever wanted that kind of relationship with him.

Until it becomes an issue. When he realizes that Vox has feelings for him. Feelings that are romantic. That kind of love that he, Alastor, is not able to feel. And this opens the wound again. His fucked-upness could very well make him lose Vox. He doesn't want to lose their friendship - Vox gets him and spending time with him is pleasurable in an unique and special way, and he is not risking it. (He has found something special, regardless of it not being what society says it should.)

So he thinks: "I can make myself love him." He forced himself to be many things in his life and death, he won't let a weakness, a fault, a lack-of-ability, be an obstacle. He is not the weak powerless boy he once was in life. He is the Radio Demon. He takes what he wants. If learning to feel romantic love is what he needs to do to obtain what he wants, he'll do it.

So he tries, and lies to himself a bunch of times in the process, but eventually, he realizes that he is failing. And he sees it as that: a failure. So the mix of shame and guilt is back, like an emotional flashback from his human days that mixes with the shame of not being able to do something. Of being powerless in front of his own faults.

Fluff ensuring after all the angst could be that he finally confesses all this to Vox in a mental breakdown scenario - cause we know Alastor loves to freak out dramatically when he feels powerless - and Vox is like: "Man, calm down, it's not that big of a deal. I am not exactly thrilled at the idea you don't reciprocate my feelings but the idea you have to fake stuff with me and you tried so hard to be something you are not is even more upsetting. ...Plus kinda flattering, honestly, but let's not digress. What i am saying is, you don't have to do it. I am not going to end our friendship over it." And actually, realising that Alastor did all that just not to lose him, it’s more than flattering – it is proof of how deeply Alastor cares for him and loves him, even if his love is platonic. Vox doesn't need more.

And also, while Alastor has no idea that being aromantic is something that exists as a queer identity, Vox, unlike Alastor who doesn't pay attention to most of Sinners cause he lists them as not-entertaining-enough and avoids any place that has a even remotely sexual-relatedness, actually goes out and talks to people and did talk to people while figuring out he was queer. So we can insert here a speech by Vox about sexual/romantic orientation not being an illness etc etc with a bit of backstory about Vox being queer in the fifties and then dealing with his internalised homophobia after his death.

[ominous-corridors]

Reunion // Ominis Gaunt

Warnings: NSFW. Dominis. Unprotected sex.

Ominis Gaunt x Reader

One shot

Word count: 4,744

Keep in mind I'm Dyslexic so there may be spelling/grammar/punctuation errors.

Summery: Ominis has been gone on Auror work and has been out of the country for years. He is finally home and comes around for a little reunion.

A/N: I'm so sorry you are all subjected to such a long rambling. My fingers ran and I followed. Hope you enjoy. Part of this was inspired by this image.

Ominis Gaunt. How to explain Ominis Gaunt?

He was kind. He was caring. He understood your problems. It was very interesting when she learned he was blind. It was many years ago, she had failed a Charms exam. Looking back on it now, that exam wasn't even that important. It was a silly thing to think about how hard she was crying as she walked through the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower. The echoing of shoes and sobs following her as she wandered aimlessly around the castle. All of her other friends had already gone to their other classes, leaving her alone with her emotions and thoughts. 

"Excuse me?" A gentle voice said behind her.

Turning, she saw a boy. She had seen him before, with his blonde hair slicked back and his piercing blue eyes that never seemed to see her. He was in one of Her other classes, Herbology maybe? 

She wiped her face on her robe sleeve, trying to rid the signs of her salty tears before he could get a good look and ask questions.

"Yes?" She said, maybe a little more cutting than she intended. 

He didn't seem to notice, "I couldn't help but hear you crying. Are you alright?"

He knew.

"O-Oh. Yes.....I'm fine," She gave a weak smile in hopes of reassuring him.

"You don't sound fine," He took a few steps closer to her, his wand firmly held out in front of him.

Why did he have his wand out like he was ready for a fight?

She sniffled again, "I am. Promise."

A small chuckle escaped his lips, "Very interesting. Already making promises and braking them. And we haven't known each other more than five minutes."

What did he know? 

He made his way across the marble floor to stand in front of her. It was interesting, the way he had come from only lead to a dead end, but she could have sworn he wasn't there when she originally passed that part of the corridor.

"Please, I know you don't know me very well, but I can be a very good listener. If you need to talk with someone." 

And that that was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. Not only did he help her feel better that day, but he was always the constant comfort for her during the rest of her schooling days. It wasn't exactly either of their faults when things started to get in the way after graduation and neither of them had really seen each other in person for a few years. Always owls back and forth about where their career paths took them. 

Ominis was actually a very good Auror, despite his lack of vision. He and Sebastian worked together, which made her happy that they could stay close with one another. It was a nasty thing that happened with them during their fifth year. It took a while for them to rekindle their friendship. That was really when Ominis and her got close. They were good friends before, but in those months after the incident, Ominis was the one who needed comfort. And that's where she came in. He had alway been there for her, and it was her turn to be there for him. And that's how she found out more about his family. What they did to people. To Him. And there was no way she were going to make him go back to them over the summer. 

So she offered to let him stay with her. An offer he tried his hardest to refuse, but she wouldn't let him. The summer months spent with her family were an integral part of what made their bond so strong. The days spent out behind her home sitting in the grass under the old oak tree. The sound of her voice as she read him all of those stories she always talked about. He would often slip into a cat nap as she read to him. When she noticed she couldn't help but smile and continue on reading, lest he wake up again. 

And now here she was, sitting at the table in her flat as an owl swooped in, dropping a letter in front of her. She had been expecting the small envelope for a few days. Details of when Ominis would be coming into the city again. He had been away somewhere in Eastern Europe on a case for a while. He had told her that she would not be able to refuse to see him, it had been far too long. She had offered him to come to her flat. She knew he wasn't one for crowded pubs, much preferring a quiet setting. 

I'll be there on Friday. 

7pm. 

Ominis

It was an oddly short note, but he surely was getting things wrapped up and didn't have a lot of time to be sending out his normal pages of writing she had grown accustomed to. 

--

She fiddled with her dress, smoothing the silk under her fingers. The motion was almost unconscious, a way for her to let out the small bit of anxiety that was bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. She poured herself a glass of wine and took a few sips, hoping to calm her nerves. She knew that Ominis couldn't see her, but she still felt the need to check her appearance in the mirror one more time, just to be sure she looked okay. She had always had a soft spot for the man--She even had a crush on him during their school years. She could feel the old emotions of that school girl crush coming back up to the surface as the clock inched closer to seven. She shook her head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. It had been years since she'd seen him, she was acting silly. 

There was a knock at the door.

She set her glass down on the table before making her way down the hall and opening the door. 

And there he was, in all of his glory. Time had been very kind to him. He still sported his hair style from school, slicked back and still just as blonde as it had always been. He still had the same smile on his face. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she took him in. He had a wonderful blue three piece suit that fit his chest and arms snuggly. 

She took a deep breath, collecting herself, "Ominis!"

"Hello, dear," He held his arms out, inviting her in for a hug.

She didn't hesitate to walk right into them as she snaked her arms around his torso, burying her face into his chest. She felt his arms close around her in a tight hug. The feeling of being in his arms was just something so right. She could feel the butterflies of her old crush fluttering in her chest. She almost welcomed them as she took in his cologne. He smelled of mint and something she couldn't quite pinpoint. Perhaps a new aftershave? It had been a long time, he was bound to have something different about him. She wasn't complaining though, she welcomed the delicious aroma he put off. 

"Miss me that much?" He chuckled, still holding onto her tightly.

She felt the rumble in his chest as he laughed, and she realized she could hear his heart beating as well, thrumming against his ribs. She looked up at him from her place in his arms and giggled lightly as his jest.

"Is that such a bad thing?" She questioned with a teasing tone to her voice.

She saw the small smile he had been wearing grow wider at her question and he shook his head, "I suppose not." 

She smiled up at him and slowly pulled away from his arms, taking his hand and leading him into her home, "Tell me about Eastern Europe. You know I don't get to travel. I would love to hear about it."

They found seats at her small table in her kitchen and she poured him a glass of wine before sitting back where she had her own sitting from before. 

"Well, I'm not sure how much I can tell you. Sebastian did do a wonderful job at painting me a picture of what it looked like, but I'm not sure I could really do it justice," He admitted as he took a sip of his wine.

"Well, tell me how you saw it. What opinions do you have in that brilliant head of yours."

He smiled again, "Well, how to describe it...."

He thought for a moment, swirling his wine in his hand as he sank back in his chair. He was starting to relax, lose all those silly 'proper' mannerisms. He knew he could really relax with her, not have to worry about the judgment he was so used to. 

After a moment he spoke up, "Well, it could be loud. Walking the streets with Sebastian. He told me how beautiful the architecture was, how different it was from home. There were always carriages being driven around, and people. But, there was a little shop down one of the quieter side streets. They had the most wonderful coffee there, and good pastries. The smell of them was so delicious," He was smiling widely as he recounted the memory, "And at night, when all of the people were finally gone.....It was so peaceful. The only sounds were my footsteps and a few owls that had a nest near where we were staying. That was when I really enjoyed the city."

She smiled at him, "That does sound lovely. Maybe on day you can show me that little pastry shop."

"I would love to. I thought about you every time I went there, you know. I know how much you adore sweets and sugary things."

He thought of her? Well, of course she thought of him, but she hadn't thought that he gave her much more thought than when he got a letter from her that he had to write a reply to. It almost caught her off guard.

Ominis noticed her silence and spoke again, "Darling, I must admit--I thought about you more than when I went to that shop. More than when I got your letters," He sighed, running a hand through his hair before he sat up straight again, "I don't know how I've managed these years apart from you, being back here now. When you opened the door I felt like I dove head first into the Black Lake. I can't keep my feelings a secret any longer."

His feelings? What was he talking about? Surely his didn't mean what she thought he did.

He stood from his place at the table and came to stand in front of her before swiftly getting to his knees. He held his hands out to her, an invitation that she couldn't decline. She placed her hands in his and he squeezed them lightly. She looked down at him as he stayed like that for a moment before he continued.

"I'v had feelings for you since we were at school. I thought that maybe it was just a school boy's crush and I would get over it. I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship on something that I would forget about in a few weeks," He chuckled, "But I was very wrong."

She sat there, him still holding onto her hands. She watched him carefully, taking in every detail she could. How his pale skin seemed to almost glow under the light filling the room. Every last little beauty mark on his face--They almost looked like constellations. She had realized she was holding her breath at that point and took a sharp inhale. 

She felt Ominis's hands tighten around hers as she did so, almost as if he was afraid of her answer. Like if he didn't hold her tight enough, she would float away like a balloon in the wind. 

She still harbored feelings for him, but it had been years. He was bound to be a different person, as was she. Would they be able to have a relationship after being away from each other for so long?

"Ominis-" She began before being cut off by his deep sigh.

"Please, just give this a chance. Give us a chance. I have lived without you for too long. You are every thought on my mind. Your voice is like sweet nectar to my ears. Your scent is intoxicating. I understand why men do such rash things for the women they love. I would do anything for you. Anything to be the one who gets to know who you really are behind closed doors. To be the one who gets to feel your soft caress," He suddenly let go of her hands and moved them to rest one on  the arm of her chair, and the other to rest on her thigh. 

The feeling of his hand on her sent a shiver up her spine. She felt the goosebumps rising under his touch. His words were already making her feel dazed. How could he hide such strong feelings from her for so long? Why did he pick now to tell all of it to her? 

She felt his hand squeeze her thigh lightly, another sigh leaving his lips.

"I don't think you understand what you do to me, darling," He chuckled and shook his head almost in a teasing way.

"What?" She could feel her underwear staring to get damp.

He leaned in closer, his chest now hovering over her body and his head tilted up to hers as she looked down at him, "You don't understand what you do to me." His voice was husky now, and barely above a whisper.

She felt her breath hitch and her skin ignite under the warmth of his proximity. Her heart was practically beating out of her chest and the butterflies in her stomach threatened to fly away with her. In that moment, she could swear that Ominis was staring right at her. Pouring his soul into hers. 

He leaned in even more, noses touching and lips ghosting over each other, "I'm going to kiss you now, if you'll allow it."

She barely heard him over the sound of blood pumping in her ears. She couldn't manage to speak, not the she didn't try. So, she opted to just nod ever so lightly, not wanting to move her lips too far away from his.

He pressed his lips to hers, gentle and sweet. It was in his nature to be gentle with her. He had always been that way with her. His hand on the chair swiftly moved to the crook of her neck, finally giving her the skin on skin contact she hadn't realized she was craving. His thumb rested gingerly on her jaw as their lips moved in sync. 

After Ominis had done his testing of the waters, she felt his kiss get more aggressive, more rough. More like he was drinking in the sweet waters he had been yearning for, for years. The fire in him only growing as her lips moved to match his rhythm, surprisingly enough for her. She didn't realize she had wanted this so badly, to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands on her. It was enough to drive her mad, and she craved more. 

Ominis moved his lips from hers, earning a soft whimper in disagreement. He chuckled again as his lips adeptly found their way to her neck, laying a path of soft kisses. 

She bit her lip, feeling the trail of heat and the tingling sensation he left in his wake. His hand on her thigh moved suddenly, slipping higher, his thumb grazing as he went. He was getting dangerously close to her now. She let out a soft moan as he began sucking on her neck.

She felt him smirk into her skin, "I want to see you. All of you."

What did that mean? See her?

His mouth moved to her ear, his hot breath washing over her. And almost as if he read her mind he spoke in a hushed whisper, "You know I see with my hands."

Oh.

Oh.

Her body moved before her mind could process. She quickly stood, causing Ominis to almost fall over. He was thankfully quick on his feet, standing not a moment later. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her as she made her way to her room. 

As soon as she crossed the threshold, his hands were all over her. She would never know how he seemed to just know. Right now, though, all she could think about was he feeling of him running his hands down her sides as he pressed his body against hers from behind. He went straight back to kissing her neck again as his hands moved to the back of her dress.

She could feel as he delicately undid each button, running his fingers behind on the newly exposed skin of her back.

"Your skin is so much softer than I imagined," He said as he laid a few kisses across her shoulders, pulling the dress down off of them.

As soon as it he got it past her shoulders he let go, letting it fall to the floor, all but forgotten as he slid his hands down her back slowly. Savoring every inch of her now exposed body. 

Her breathing was shallow. She took quick breaths to try and fill her lungs, but nothing she did could stop them from screaming at her as she felt his hands leaving goosebumps behind them.

"W-Would you like me to show you?" She managed out. 

He hummed an agreement, his fingers still tracing out the shape of her shoulder blades under her skin.

She turned to face him, almost as if he was commanding her and she was to obey. He held his hands out to her, his eyes half closed in what only could be disturbed as a sultry glance. She bit her lip, taking his hands by his wrists. She could feel his pulse. She was glad that his body had to be screaming at him as much as hers was. 

Gently, she brought his hands to her chest, letting him cup her breasts in his hands. She watched him as he did so, his mouth falling open ever so slightly. He moved his thumbs over her hardened nipples which elicited a muffled moan from her as she clamped down harder on her bottom lip. She watched him smirk and blink a few times before she moved his hands, sliding them along her abdomen to rest on her hips. He squeezed lightly at first before digging his fingers into her flesh, his nails almost leaving marks.

"You are exquisite," He breathed.

He squeezed one more time and she felt her legs getting more slick by the second. She then moved his hands behind her, letting him rest them on her bum. He gave it a good squeeze before leaning in and kissing her again. His lips hungry for her, passion and desire leaking out of them. 

She realized that she was the only one naked in the moment, and she wasn't about to let him get away with that. She quickly started unbuttoning his vest as their tongues melded together. The only sounds in the room were wet lips and heavy breathing with a few moans here and there. 

Ominis's hands moved again, this time on their own to grab her hips again, digging his nails into her skin. She let out a small moan, prompting him to do it again. After a few more moments of unbuttoning his clothing and wet kissing, he stood before her in just his trousers.

She took in the sight of him, soaking in every detail of his form. He was still lean as he had been in school, but there were ever so slight layers of muscle that tugged at his skin in just the right way. He looked absolutely divine. Her lip found it's way between her teeth again as she tried to count every little round mark on his skin. She could spend hours just trying to commit each one's location to memory. 

"Enjoying the view?" He raised an eyebrow at her as he kicked out of his shoes.

"Oh, more than you know." 

He let out a deep chuckle as he stepped toward her.

"Lay down," His voice was rough and commanding. 

She didn't hesitate to obey, quickly making her way to the bed and laying down. He made his way to her, grabbing her thighs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. She let out a small yelp to which he only smirked. He guided her underwear off slowly, letting his fingers graze her skin. He spread her legs wide, holding on to her knees as he he knelt down in front of her. His hands moved from her knees and slid slowly up her inner thighs, his calloused fingertips grazing her in a way that made her feel like she was on fire. He slipped on of his hands under her leg, lifting it onto his shoulder and firmly holding it in place by her thigh. He squeezed again, pressing his cheek into her soft skin.

"You are a divine gift from the Gods, my sweet."

Every time he spoke words like that to her, she could feel her whole core tremble. If he could make her feel like this with just words, what could he do-?

Her thoughts were cut off by the sudden feeling of his finger sliding over her clit. She gasped and almost pulled away from the sensation, only to be stopped by his firm hand on her leg.

"Ah, there you are," He said.

He quickly backtracked his movements, pressing light circles against her. She let out another string of moans as he worked her sensitive area. She looked down at him, watching him. His mouth was parted and she could see the desire written on his face.

"You are music to my ears, dove."

He continued like that for a few moments before dipping his fingers to her entrance, feeling the pool she had left for him. Because of him.

"Oh, you are so deliciously wet for me, love," He smirked again, sliding two fingers into her slowly, relishing in the feeling surrounding them. She threw her head back against the bed. He let out a small groan that mixed with the moan she let out at feeling him inside of her. 

He began pumping his fingers slowly, the sweet sound of her drawn out moans and the wet slapping of her pussy hitting his ears. He picked up the pace, shoving his fingers as far as they would go.

"O-Oh, f-fuck!" She arched her back. His fingers were like magic as he worked her.

He stopped suddenly, removing his fingers quickly. She whined at the loss of him, looking back to see him slowly put his fingers into his mouth, sucking her off of them.

"Merlin, you taste phenomenal."

He quickly stood, unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his member, pumping it a few times with gritted teeth.

"On your knees." He commanded.

She quickly got off the bed, kneeling in front of him. He still held himself in his hand. He used his other hand to grip onto her hair.

"Open," He growled.

This was a new side to him that she hadn't seen before, and she wasn't ashamed to say that she liked it. She liked being commanded by him, she liked how he gripped her, how he pleased her. So, she did as she was told. She opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out, ready to accept him.

He slowly guided himself into her mouth, a muffled groan escaping his lips. He moved her head by the hair firmly in his fist, stroking himself ever so slowly. 

"Your mouth is so fucking good." Ominis was not one for swearing. He hardly ever said anything one would consider crass, and that made this all the more attractive to her.

After he gave her a moment to acquaint herself with his size, he began thrusting his length into her quicker. Soft groans coming from him as he did. He began picking up speed, thrusting harder, shoving his whole length down her throat. She tried to keep her throat relaxed, not choke on him, but she couldn't keep it up. She gagged loudly, which caused him to pull out entirely, a wide smirk on his face.

"Good girl," He said, "Now, get back on the bed. Ass up."

She moved and got back on the bed on her hands and knees, putting her bum in the air. She felt him get on the bed behind her, his hands gripping onto her hips. He slid one of his hands down her bum and felt for her entrance before taking his length and pressing his tip against her.

"Ready, love?"

"Y-Yes," She breathed. She had never imagined that their reunion would turn into this, but she was happy it had.

Without another word, he roughly pushed into her, feeling her walls around him with a drawn out groan. 

"Fuck," He muttered, rolling his hips.

She moaned out as he did so, feeling him fill her. 

He reached out and gripped her hair again, pulling her to support her top half with her hands. He began bucking into her wildly, moans and groans filling the room as they both felt the pleasure rocketing through their bodies with each connection of hips. 

"That's right. Take it, darling, " He groaned, "You take my cock so well."

She could feel him hitting deep within her, right on that magic little spot. Each thrust of his length hitting perfectly. The knot in her stomach was tight, almost painfully so a he continued his pace, her moaning loud and unbridled. He moved his hand from her hair and slipped it around her mouth, leaning forward to press his chest against her back.

"Quite, darling. I want to hear my cock fuck that pretty pussy of yours," He almost purred into her ear. 

He continued to buck his hips as he stayed over her like that with his hand over her mouth. Her moans muffled by his firm grip on her face. He grunted into her ear as he listened to the wet sound of skin on skin echo off the walls surrounding them. 

"Mmmm," He said something after that. Something that she could only describe as air slithering past his tongue. 

Parseltongue. 

He let the sweet sounds of it pass his lips as he fucked her. Listening to him speak to her like that was only serving to drive her more mad. She could feel herself getting closer as the friction became almost unbearable. 

Her walls began to tighten around him, causing him to let out another groan.

"Let it out, dove. Come for me," He whispered into her ear, sitting up in his knees again and gripping her waist tightly. 

The then began pounding into her, pulling her hips to meet his as he groaned and grunted at the feeling of her tight pussy around him.

It didn't take long for her to get to her climax after that as he continued to hit her sweet spot. Her legs shook under her as the knot in her stomach came undone. 

"O-Oh, Ominis!" She moaned loudly as she came. Her breath heavy.

He chuckled, continuing to hit her hard as his own climax came over him. He groaned loudly, pushing as far into her as he could, filling her to the brim. 

They stayed in that position for a moment, both panting hard as they came down from the high of their escapade. After a moment, Ominis pulled out, falling onto the bed next to her. She quickly followed his lead and laid next to him.

He opened his arms for her to come closer to him and she happily obliged, cuddling herself into his chest as his arms wrapped around her. He kissed her forehead and then rested his chin on top of her head.

"How was that?" He asked.

She giggled, "That was....It was wonderful."

He chuckled and squeezed her tightly to him, "Good."

[c0zyrainfall]

I was thinking about it, and I started wondering what exactly is so appealing about damianya.

Twiyor is equally well written, I think, but I actually prefer the former (though I love both!). That's just because of preference and my appreciation for enemies to lovers. HOWEVER I have decided to draft up an analysis pinpointing why damianya is so enticing, because I write my own original material, and I think you can gain a lot of valuable insight by reverse engineering good writing.

First of all: What is the definition of a good romantic relationship?

I will use the following guidelines:

1) Based off of genuine friendship

2) Both are willing to sacrifice for the other and

3) Both parties make the other a better person.

The first guideline I outlined is big here. Because they are kids, they obviously should not be in a full on romantic relationship now. As a matter of fact, they will probably be waiting AT LEAST eight years. At least.

This means they have eight years to develop a true and wholesome friendship. A friendship with no romantic ulterior motives. They just get to enjoy being kids and growing up with one another. Because of this, they will see each other's high AND low points, rather than viewing the other with rose tinted lenses. Yes, maybe one of them (cough Damian) gets butterflies and feels flustered every time they see the other. But for now, it is very innocent and immature, a childish crush. By framing the goal for this relationship as FRIENDSHIP rather than ROMANCE, the two are able to develop a deeper understanding and a more complete picture of each other before they take anything to the next level.

Does the second point even need to be addressed? Anya is willing to take a tonitrus bolt for him. She is willing to stand up for him (well, technically for the "mission" but we'll get to that later). Damian is willing to take a hit for her, whether it be a dodgeball or a literal bomb. He gives her his share of the macaron (which he believes could help him with his intelligence.) He spends time he could be using to study to locate the finest teacakes in the world so he can give them to her.

Now to the third point.

When we first meet Damian, we don't like him. He is a classist jerk. So karma hits him (literally) in the form of Cupid's arrow. By developing a crush on Anya, he is learning that he should not treat others differently because they have less money. He becomes a better person by learning that "commoners" are the same as all the rich students at Eden.

Side tangent: while I relate more to Damian academic wise, aka pushing myself probably too far to get good grades, I'm sure we can all personally relate to Anya. She tries a lot of things. She fails at almost all of them. Thus, by seeing someone who is academically accomplished and rich be infatuated with her just for being herself, we start to realize that those things don't matter as much as we sometimes feel. Therefore, we want Damian to like her, because it is sweet. It is sweet that someone who places value on things like high academics is able to see past that and appreciate someone else for different good qualities, rather than the ones society deems most important. ~

When Anya first meets Damian, we cannot fault her for disliking him. He is rude to her because she is in a lower social class than him. She is rude to him because he is mean to her. This is perfectly reasonable. In the beginning, it would not make her a better person to be friends with him; as a matter of fact, avoiding him would probably be the high road in this situation. If I were her, I would not have wanted to be friends with him at all.

Side tangent 2:

If you like damianya, you are probably fond of Anya. And of Damian. This is true for me. He's my favorite sxf character. The reason WHY we are fond of him is because we know his backstory. We know he is actually a sweet little guy who just wants to be loved. So we also want him to succeed in his friendship with Anya.

However, though she may have picked up bits and pieces through her mind reading, Anya does not know this. And even if she did, she likely wouldn't understand the levity of it. She's only 4 or 5. ~

Damian and Anya have developed since they first met. They ARE friends (or close to it, anyways). So while at first it wouldn't have made Anya a better person to genuinely care about Damian, now it would.

Because we know Damian and care about him, we also want Anya to care about him. We want her to understand why he acts the way he does. We want her to understand that he actually cares about her.

While Damian is terrible at proving he cares through his words, he is really good at SHOWING her. If she understands he has a different method for showing care, Anya grows. She is able to develop a greater understanding of other people, rather than shaping the world through her own perspective. Framing Damian as the mission makes a lot of sense. She wants her parents to stay together and not get rid of her, and she wants world peace. Of course Anya is not bad for wanting these things. But she will be BETTER when she learns to see things from Damian's pov. She will see the world is not all black and white. She will see that he is not just a mission, and that he is actually as important to her as Yor is to Twilight.

So, conclusively, those are some reasons Damianya is a well written and popular ship. I could also go into detail about how it subverts expectations, likely has future plot relevance (in relation to the story as a whole rather than just a side plot), and is a generally unique and well executed idea. However, for now, I'll leave it at this. I tried to nail down the psychology of what makes it appealing to us, but if anyone has further insights, please feel free to let me know :) Hope you all have a great day

[theopolis]

hello!! im sure youve gotten this question before but im having a Harry Moment and want to get Even Weirder about it SO !! i was wondering if you have a recommendation for approaching the original comics, where to start, which runs you think are the best reads for capturing his story, stuff like that!! your blogs a joy to browse, thanks so much!!!

Hello fellow Harold enthusiast!! I have in fact gotten this question before but I'm actually quite happy to receive it again as I've long been meaning to create a Harry reading list that would (hopefully) allow people to follow his entire story up to his death

In this chronological guide I've attempted to capture Harry's journey as a character, narrowed down from my own 616 reading experience.

I tried to stay focused on Harry-centric storylines and issues, but I couldn't resist adding some casual appearances particularly during the Silver Age because 1) I think of it as foundational to just about everything that matters in Spider-Man comics and 2) Harry-centric storylines tend to show him at his most distressed. They're important and often brilliant, but reading only those issues feels like a disservice to his kind and loving qualities. It's important to experience the smaller, calmer moments with him as well to truly understand his character.

Personal favorites are bolded, if you care for my bias.

Due to the numerous Spider-Man mags that were at times running simultaneously and ping-ponging storylines between one another, titles will be abbreviated as follows;

The Amazing Spider-Man (1963) = TASM63

The Spectacular Spider-Man (1976) = TSSM76

Web of Spider-Man (1985) = WOSM85

Now let's get into it!

Harry Osborn Reading List

Flashbacks

These were published more recently, but take place before Harry's first appearance in the comics

Short about Harry's childhood and Norman's failings as a father. One of the best depictions of their relationship, in my opinion

Nice Things from Amazing Spider-Man Extra! #3

Gwen-centric miniseries set during her time in high school and giving some insight on her and Harry's longlasting friendship

Giant Size Gwen Stacy

From introduction to deathbed

Watch Harry evolve from goofy background character to Peter's most important narrative foil!

First establishing of Harry's character and his dynamics with other key personages such as Peter and Norman

TASM63 #31, #34, #39, #40

Further development of all aforementioned things. The highs and lows of Peter and Harry's life as roommates. Daddy issues. Romantic drama. Drug addiction subplot. Anything you could ask

TASM63 #46, #47, #53, #54, #57, #59, #60, #61, #62, #63, #66, #74, #82, #95, #96, #98, #105, #110, #118

The storyline that changed everything

TASM63 #119, #120, #121, #122

Harry grows increasingly suspicious and paranoid around Peter following his father's death

TASM63 #123, #124, #126, #127, #129, #134, #135

Now... here's a disclaimer for the following issues: Despite the aforementioned buildup being very well executed, the result is not exactly so and has more to do with giving the Goblin as a concept another hurrah, rather than delving into Harry's character. In fact I'd even argue they're out of character for Harry, as his behavior in them is just cartoonishly diabolical and in stark contrast to both his previously established personality and subsequent depictions of his Goblin. So yeah, these issues are technically important to the grander picture of what is happening with Harry and why, but don't expect insight lol

TASM63 #136, #137

Harry's back and his friends are more than happy to welcome him. He even moves in with Flash

TASM63 #151, #152, #153

Harry and Liz Allan enter a romance and quickly move on to engagement. He is also seen seeking psychiatric treatment

TASM63 #156, #157, #163, #166, #167

The happiness was not to last: Liz' stepbrother, Mark Raxton aka the Molten Man stirs up trouble, and she leaves the city in the aftermath. Harry seeks fault within himself and appears to be on his way to going green again – but is all as it seems?

TASM63 #172, #173, #174, #175, #179, #180

Harry and Liz have settled into the suburbs. In come more Molten Man and more insecurities!

TSSM76 #63

A mysterious foe known as the Hobgoblin has been attacking the company Harry inherited from his father and even blackmailing him with Norman's secret identity. During this troubled time, Liz and Harry are also having a baby

TASM63 #239, #244, TSSM76 #85, TASM63 #249, #250, #251, #260, #261, #263, TSSM76 #146, WOSM85 #47, TASM63 #312, TSSM76 #147

Molten Man, take three – this time with a wholesome twist

WOSM85 #61, #62

Harry briefly attempts to turn the Green Goblin into a superhero

WOSM85 #66, #67

The final Green Goblin Jr Saga – an absolute Must Read. If I could recommend just one Harry storyline, it would definitely be this one

TSSM76 #178, #179, #180, #181, #182, #183, #184, #189, #200

Post OMD Revival/"Clone Harry"

Full disclosure, I don't read much Post OMD Spider-Man. One day I might venture into it despite my gripes and add more to this section. Until then: I'd sort of be amiss not to include these two at the very least in a Harry Osborn reading list, even if recent nonsensical twists have revealed Post OMD Harry to have been a clone all along

Harry and Peter's reunion

Amazing Spider-Man Family #4

Harry cutting ties with his father. While I think this story could have been improved in numerous ways, watching Harry leave Norman behind is still pretty satisfying and I enjoy the way his relationship with Peter is portrayed in this

TASM63 #595, #596, #597, #598, #599

[chimivx]

TASTE. -> 'Haven' from the POV of Hyunjin. (Part One of Six)

summary: "Bad things happen in love. That's why I've spent my entire life rejecting it. Everyone I've ever fallen for has failed me, and it's happening all over again, and I get to watch."

word count: 11k

warnings: 18+, infidelity themes all throughout, toxic friendships/relationships, mentions of sex, alcohol abuse, struggles with mental health themes, cursing, if I missed anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

a/n: So, this is happening. This is altering my entire Haven universe. Originally, this is the time period I had Haven set in when I first created it... I see a rewrite happening in the future. Enjoy this, and please leave me a message of your thoughts! YES, I had to name the female MC. If she has your name, congrats!

Fixating my eyes on the bland, white ceiling above me, I lay awake for the third night in a row, unable to shake the thoughts that infected my mind like a parasite. Incessant mocking strings of words that my subconscious seems to have created itself for the pure purpose of self torture. Life’s always been that way though, my subconscious versus my conscious mind, both whispering things to me in a way that made it difficult to decipher what was actually real.

During the night after I’ve buried myself beneath my sheets was when they loved to linger. When things got quiet, the thoughts crept out, spilling me secrets, but if it was a night like tonight, they screamed. For weeks now, they’ve been screaming.

Mere hours ago, before the lights were shut off, I had my arms wrapped around the girl who now slept soundly beside me. Straddling my waist with her hands tangled in my hair, we took one another with a hunger, sweating while she sang out a beautiful song inspired by her own lust fueled desire. Each and every time we slept together it was disgustingly greedy, yet relieving, and all the more mind-numbing.

Jade, fast asleep, her eyelashes tickling her cheeks, always appeared as beautiful as her name introduced her. Much like the stone she shares a title with, her personal qualities weren’t as far off. Since I’ve met her she’s been level headed, mature, and honest. Never once have I had to question her sincerity whenever I’m seven inches within her, nor have I wondered whether or not she’d stray away from me.

Until about two months ago.

It was probably my own damn fault somehow, I just can’t seem to piece together where it began, or what the underlying cause was. Within these nights laying awake I start to assume it’s the subconscious cooking it up, but if I attempt to delve deeper into the situation it seems to appear before me clear as day.

She was falling in love with Minho.

The nine of us friends had been hanging out for almost half a year before Jade and I started to hook up. Our group was formed beneath the roof of Haven, all of us were regulars, and Minho was a bartender there, so naturally we grew attached to each other.

Jeongin and Seungmin knew one another previously, childhood best friends or something, if I can remember, as did Minho and Han. Changbin was a close friend of mine through school, we attended university together a few years back, the two of us in the same fraternity. He had a good friend at work, Felix, who he ended up bringing around, and the blonde seemed to find a place with us. That boy was an Aussie, like Chan who was introduced to us through Jade. Those two were college friends as well.

Naturally we fell into little subunits as all friend groups do, though we clung to the ones we started out with. Jade, I’ve noticed, couldn’t let go of Chan, and for good reason. He was a good dude, he worked in a gym, and I didn’t absolutely hate his guts. At least I knew that if she was with him she was going to be safe- which is a thought that always shook me to the depths of my core, and it wasn’t because I was worried about her well-being.

Well, maybe it was because I was worried about her well-being, but that was what terrified me. I had gotten to the point with her that made me want to throw it all away, it was entirely nauseating, every waking second of it.

Taking a glimpse of her now in the dark where she lay with her lips slightly parted, her gorgeous hair pushed backward and her hands beneath the cheek that lays on one of my pillows, there’s a pit that forms in my stomach, one that sends an electric spark up into my heart, spreading throughout my nervous system. If she was dreaming her lips would twitch. I’d gazed at her enough as she’s slept this past year to be able to figure out what was happening in that spectacular mind of hers without her needing to use words to express it.

It’s how I knew she was falling in love with Minho.

Lurching forward with a gentleness to not disturb her, I press the palms of my hands to my eyes and rub vigorously, trying to clear my head of the things I didn’t want to hear. Taking a slow, deep breath with caution, I sense the familiar tightness around my heart and sigh. 

As soon as I think about it, it happens. Another breath rips through my chest without warning, and then another. They were coming in quick, their speed relentless, my heart accompanying their pace. I glance down at Jade who hasn’t seemed to stir. She was asleep, I didn’t want to bother her, I wasn’t sure I wanted her help at all. I knew what I needed to do.

Tossing the covers off of me my feet hit the floor, a cool sensation shooting up my legs helping to ease the panic in the slightest way. Hurrying for the door I snatch the doorknob and throw it open, my head beginning to go dizzy. 

I rush into the kitchen with a clobber, slamming my hands onto one of the counters feeling absolutely no pain. Blind with anxiety, I begin to rifle through cabinets, slamming their doors along with a couple of drawers. 

Where is it, are the only words I can conjure up.

A couple minutes later, or it could’ve been thirty seconds for all I can actively be aware of- I find it. A little more than half a bottle of Don Juilio that Changbin gifted me for my last birthday. It was pushed in the back, hidden behind Jades margarita mixes and fruity shit she’s tried to put me on. Jutting my arm in, knocking over stacked plastic cups and packages full of bendy straws, I maneuver the round glass bottle out of the cabinet without knocking over anything expensive.

Plopping to the floor, I pop the tequila open and take a gulp. It’s cool against my tongue, but it should burn a little as it goes down. It doesn’t. Taking another swig I can’t even feel my chest warm like it should while I drink this. I can’t feel a thing.

Typically this gets paired with some sort of soda, adding a dash of the tequila into the glass before the fizzy mixer is poured inside. Changbin was better at making the drinks, he has been since college. At every party he was the one in charge of the alcohol, making sure we never got a keg. With Changbin it had to be dressed up, a little more spicy than average- which was how he preferred his women.

To me, it didn’t matter. In college I drank to get drunk, and apparently my friends would agree that that still reigns true. I didn’t care if the alcohol was aged perfectly, if it was pricey or if it was cheap, nor did it matter the packaging it came in. If it cleared my head, made me forget what I wanted to forget, and got me off, I was set. Which, ultimately, was how I preferred my women. Or my men. Or my… people.

I knock back another gulp of Don Juilio.

I’d never include Jade in that analogy, though. She was different. She was infectious. She made me break my rules. 

We were together, but we weren’t together. We shared a bed, she lived within the walls of my apartment, but we weren’t together. She had her own dresser in my bedroom, her toothbrush resided in my bathroom, but we weren’t together. In the morning’s she’d cook me breakfast and bring it to me with a kiss on the cheek, but we weren’t together.

My heart fluttered whenever I would think about her. She found ways to turn my cheeks pink on days when I never thought I’d smile again. She was magnificent. 

Jade was the only girl in my life who didn’t throw herself at me the moment we had met. Most women I interact with try to pick me up or ask if I’m single, then try to get me into bed- you don’t see me complaining- but, Jade. The very first thing I ever said to her was sarcastic, something smart rolling off my tongue when our eyes first caught a glimpse of one another, and she laughed.

It wasn’t a cute laugh. It wasn’t a ‘oh my god, cute boy, you’re so funny, let me giggle like a girl to get you to like me’ laugh. Her laugh was loud, and it was quick, and it turned heads. Essentially she was really scoffing at me, unable to believe I had strolled up to her and Chan at the bar and been so confidently cocky.

She got me right back with a joke that crippled Changbin and Chan, she tossed something together fast about how I compared to one of the neon lights on the wall. It was a flamingo holding a bottle of tequila if I’m not mistaken. Even then she knew me, she could see me. 

Months after that was the first time we had kissed, inside Haven, those wooden planked walls becoming a safe place for us. Then soon after we seeked sanctuary in a bathroom stall, drunkenly stupid enough to fuck without caring who came inside to use the other one beside it.

I had played a careful game, intrigued with how she seemed to play it right back. That’s what drew me to her. She was equally as meticulous as I was, though she appeared like the type to want stability, and after getting to know her some more, that’s what she craved.

Dealing with me she knew she wasn’t going to get a relationship, at least not the kind where we’d call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. That was something I didn’t do, something that made my skin crawl. 

Titles were a subject for disaster, it always ended in a mess, at least from what I know. I’ve had my own share of enough broken hearts in the past to be repulsed by the idea of a title. Of exclusivity. Belonging to someone, and someone belonging to you, only to have them rip your heart out and tear it to shreds after they confess that they see a forever with you, leading you on, isolating you from your friends and family.

People leave. People don’t care.

With Jade I figured I was saving myself, protecting us both from the horrors of heartbreak. But, somewhere within the year I broke my rules.

I was insufferably in love with her.

And she was falling in love with Minho.

Another swig from the bottle I grasped. And then another.

She was falling in love with Minho. I could see it in her eyes whenever they spoke.

He was capable of giving her everything she wanted.

Another swig, that became more of a gulp.

She was falling in love with Minho, and I was doing everything in my power to push her away. I was wrecking her trust, breaking her down, making her cry, and she wouldn’t leave. I was telling her things to her face, things I had done, things that would cause any person in their right mind to leave me, and she wouldn’t go.

Another gulp.

Our friends said things to me, things I couldn’t begin to put together right now, but I knew they weren’t nice. They watched me hurt her again and again, they’ve tried to tell her to leave me, I know that they have. I know Minho has gotten her ear before, this one shocked me the most, because if she was going to listen to anyone I figured it’d be Minho.

My heart yearned, it ached for her.

The worst part about it was that she loved me too, at least I think she does, seeing as though she’s still here after I’ve cheated on her three different times. I’ve slept with three different girls, and she hasn’t left. Jennie, who I met in Haven, a senior in college out here visiting family for the summer. Lia, who I met at the liquor store, she lived a few neighborhoods over. Nayeon, who I met- No. I never had sex with Nayeon. I kissed her though, and she touched my dick. 

Another gulp. The glass clangs against the ground as the bottom of the bottle hits it, my arm getting heavy.

Jade knew everything. She found out about Nayeon last week, and she’s still here.

God, I love her, so fucking much, but I’m pretty sure she’s falling in love with Minho.

Another… another gulp, I attempt. My arms fall limp first, then my back meets the tiled floor, and I don’t know if it’s because of the Don Juilio that’s nearly empty or the panic attack.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin.”

Her spine chilling tone wakes me up. Opening my eyes to the sun leaking through the windows, I turn my chin to look at her and take a deep breath, one that inflates my lungs completely. Jade, standing behind me at the door she just slammed shut, is draped in golden rays of light. It definitely wasn’t morning.

A dull ache rips through my head, my eyes feeling like they could roll back and sink into my skull. They’d roll down to my stomach that churned as I moved my eyes around the room. I was still in the middle of the kitchen splayed out on the floor.

Jade was dressed for work, all black head to toe, with her hair pulled back to keep it out of her face. A little nametag was perched on her chest by her left shoulder where her name was spelled out in cute block letters that she wrote herself. In her hand she carried a brown paper bag that gave off the scent that something delicious was inside, something I’d devour if I wasn’t fighting away nausea.

“I brought you dinner,” she said, her tone flat. Looking away from me she takes herself over to the table and tosses the bag onto the wood, not caring whether or not its contents got jostled. A sigh contorted with a groan escapes her as she walks down the hall toward the bedroom, pulling her shirt over her head.

“Dinner,” I mumbled, rubbing one of my eyes. Attempting to sit up, I roll onto my side and tuck my knees into my chest, propping myself up on them along with my hands. The headache roars through my brain, the room turning blurry for a few seconds. 

Sitting back on my heels my hands swing to my side, my left pinky finger tapping what felt like glass. Turning my chin down slowly, I hook my pinky into the lip of the bottle and pull it onto my lap, sighing at what I’d found. An empty bottle of Don Juilio Tequila sat in the dip of my thighs.

“Jade?” I called out, looking toward the bedroom where she had disappeared. I don’t remember how I ended up here.

In a pair of jeans that hugged her hips just right, and a white tank top- that I think was mine- tucked into the front of the waist, Jade turned out of the doorway, shooting me a glare. Her hands were occupied with a brush, pushing her hair backward with the bristles before shaking it all forward. When she tossed it back it was like she moved in slow motion.

God, she was beautiful.

“What?” her tone didn’t match her appearance. She was pissed.

Gesturing toward the floor, moving like I’d aged seventy years, I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. “When did I…?”

“Beats me,” she grills, perking a brow. “You were there when I left for work, I figured you’d be up by the time I got back, like last time.”

“You didn’t hear me get up?” I asked, genuinely looking for help. Jade simply shakes her head. “I don’t remember getting up.”

“You sure made a mess,” she scoffs, then disappears again. 

Turning over my shoulder, slowly, I’m greeted by half open drawers and cabinets. The one beside me, the liquor cabinet, had its contents spilling out the front onto the tile. Plastic red cups were scattered about, and bottles inside the shelf were knocked over.

“What the fuck,” I whisper to myself.

“You can clean it up,” Jade said, coming back out into the kitchen now with a pair of boots on her feet peeking out from under her flared jeans. She’d put lipstick on, a mauve color, and some mascara. Always so simple, yet convicting, and she didn’t even know it.

“Where are you going?” I asked, watching her dance about the kitchen, unpacking the bag she had brought in, crumbling it up to push it into the garbage that lived beneath our sink. Her jeans stretched as she bent over and my heart wanted to burst.

“Haven,” she said, turning around to look down at me. Her eyes travel to the glass on my lap. “Han, Chan and Minho are going.”

Minho.

Suddenly her shade of lipstick made me want to smash the bottle I held into a trillion little pieces. I remembered how I’d gotten here on the floor.

“Oh,” I mumbled, bobbing my head, gazing up at her through the dark pieces of hair that fell onto my forehead. Jade’s eyes study mine, hers laced with uncertainty and a shit ton of empathy.

“You can come with me, yanno,” she said, her sharp tone easing down to one nicer. Licking my lips, tasting a tinge of the tequila, I nod. She offers me a small smile and a hand.

She aids me to my feet and gives my cheek a quick kiss before she whispers, “You need help.” And she’s sufficiently, accurately, shot me in the heart. Though it was spoken with quaint intention, it didn’t soften the blow, not when I’ve heard those three words before. The first time was degrading, and humiliating, and it didn’t come from Jade. 

Taking the bottle from my hands she places it on the countertop much more carefully than it appeared I had been moving last night. She backs away from me with two steps and gestures behind her. 

“Get yourself ready,” she said. “They want to meet at six.”

Right. Minho.

“If you want,” she adds before I can walk away from her, “I can call Changbin, maybe ask if he wants to join us?” Rubbing the back of my neck I take a breath. How, in her right mind, is she being nice to me?

“He works,” I said, dropping my hand at my side, “But… sure.”

Checking out my appearance one last time, Jade smiles, bigger this time. I can’t even begin to imagine how I look after hours passed out on the floor in a drunken daze. My headache pounded like a kickdrum in my ears and it felt like I was wearing twenty pound weights on each of my limbs. 

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll give him a call, go take a shower.”

Taking myself down the hall, leaving her in the kitchen, I step into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. Pressing my back against the white wooden panel, I groan and close my eyes for a couple of seconds. The thought of having to put up with Minho for another night made me more nauseous than the tequila, and the fact that Jade was all done up for the evening threatened to make me panic.

Panic and Minho. That was definitely how I ended up in the kitchen on the floor. It always stemmed from there, the overthinking, the imposter syndrome, the false thoughts that weasled into my mind without consent. Imposter Syndrome was laughable, and it is. I wasn’t under the impression Jade was falling in love with Minho. I knew she was falling in love with Minho.

Oh my god, Hyunjin, turn on the shower.

Tearing back the curtain I spin the knob on the wall to scorching hot, letting the small room fill with steam. If I could sweat out this hangover in a few minutes I’d be good to go for the night, I’d be back on my game, ready to handle Minho and her other friends. 

Jade said she’d call Changbin, and I prayed that she would. Chan and Han were great, but they were the closest to Minho. Add Jade into the mix pestering her best friend Chan all night, perpetually flirting with Minho without even realizing, and that leaves me alienated, all to myself. Bad things happen when I’m left to myself. Jade would obtain another reason to leave me, and I guarantee, no matter what, she still wouldn’t.

I wasn’t going to be the one to break it off. It wouldn’t be me saying the words, I needed Jade to say it. She had to be the one to leave me, I loved her too much to let her go.

The heat swirling around the air did anything but make me sweat out my condition, instead it made me even more dizzy and nauseous, prompting me to collapse in front of the toilet, getting sick, twice. 

Now that made me feel a little better. 

Rubbing a few fingers over my lips I slipped two between my teeth, maybe I could make myself do it again…

“Jinnie?” Jade knocks on the door a couple of times. Slapping both hands to the ceramic, I look at the frame and gulp.

“Yeah?” I question after clearing my throat.

“Changbin said he’ll come by after he gets off work,” she said, “Felix is going to come with him, too.” The skinny little blonde Australian boy. Changbin liked him, and those two got along really well. Felix was funny, the moments I’ve spent with him I’ve enjoyed, so I guess his presence tonight would do me some good.

“Okay,” I mumble, willing her with my mind to walk away. “Thanks.”

“We’ll have fun tonight,” she said, hovering by the door it seemed. “I promise.”

You’ll have fun tonight, I huffed. If her attention was going to be on Minho and her friends for the evening I suppose I could take it upon myself to get to know the boy who acted as Changbin’s shadow whenever they were around. Kind of quiet, Felix seemed shallow, like he wasn’t always all the way there, but I probably didn’t know him well enough.

I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt and not let his bleach blonde hair and ditzy smile he always wore get in the way of getting through to him personally. A friend of Changbins could easily be a friend of mine. Being so hooked on Jade I’ve barely had time to even learn where Felix lived. Maybe he’d be the best distraction for the evening.

And so, the subunits within the group will shift. If my predictions were right, if Jade was… falling in love with Minho, then there was no doubt she’d get pulled away by Han and Chan. It already seemed as if those three had a plan set in place to pluck her out of here, so I needed a second option. I needed people on my side, people to stand with me if the nine of us were to separate, or if Jade were to leave me.

Changbin and Felix seemed like an excellent option.

Jade always said that Haven was musty. The old bar was just that, musty. It smelled of heavy old pine and Budweiser, the dark wooden planked walls keeping every scent trapped within the close quarters. There wasn’t a single window on any wall except small rectangular ones in the bathrooms. The screens to the outside were old, a little ripped and covered in cobwebs.

The bar had to have been open for, like, twenty years, since at least the middle of the sixties. The walls and stained concrete floor gave away its age. Arnold, the man who owned the place- Minho’s boss- appeared to be from the sixties as well. Some days I’d be willing to half listen to the history lesson he gave our group whenever he approached us to greet Minho, the old man gloating about his bar, how it’s been family owned for years and that he cannot believe ‘young people’ like us still loved to come here.

Jade loved to listen, she found it fascinating it seemed. Most times I could care less, I just wanted a drink, and I’d love nothing more than to tell Arnold what he could do better with his building, starting with the windows in the bathroom.

It wasn’t my favorite place, but it gave me Jade, and I’m still trying to piece together whether that was a good thing or not. 

I could place the blame on the neon multicolored lights or the cheap drinks that were poured heavily for bringing this selfless, incredible girl into my life. These four walls were the reason I was suffering. Something stirred in the air here, something that induced us all into a love drunk haze. Like some type of hallucination you don’t realize the outcome until you’re living with it four months later, saying ‘I love you’ every night.

Already on the dance floor, Jade was moving effortlessly beside Chan. The dark curly haired boy wore a cut off tank, a t-shirt he cut the sleeves off of, and jeans shorts rolled at the knee. A brown belt was strapped around his waist and a skinny gold chain hung snuggly at the base of his neck.

We’ve been here only ten minutes and the two were already a drink deep, lost in the music that blasted from the speakers on the walls.

Sitting at a table in the back corner that our group always occupied, I was slouched in one of the creaky wooden high top chairs with my hand wrapped around a glass full of liquor I was unable to get down. I wanted to chug it before Han and Minho showed their faces. 

At least before Han showed his face. The boy was a nuisance. He was loud and nosey, he had to know everything about everybody. I limited the amount of conversations I shared with the chestnut brown, fluffy haired boy. He would never get his sticky little fingers on any of my dirt, but with how he’s gotten close to Jade I can only assume he’s already heard it all. I’ve been on the receiving end of one too many questionable glances recently.

“Jinnie!”

Glancing up from the glass my eyes were attempting to shatter a hole into, I found Jade swaying her hips side to side waving a hand toward me. She wore a smile, a big one. Beside Chan was when she was the happiest, especially if she was also within these decrepit walls.

“What?” I call out to her, my voice nearly drowned out by the bass. Jade takes a breath to answer, but instead hurries over to my side. Chan’s eyes follow her, the content of his expression subtly shifted into unease- at least I think it did.

Jade grabs onto my bare arm and gives me a shake, one that tumbles my stomach. “Come dance, please?” Her voice is sappy-sweet. The drink in front of me appears all the more appetizing. 

“Why?” I asked, looking up into her pleading eyes. “You have Chan, go dance with him.”

Her lips form a pout. “I wanna dance with you.”

“I don’t want to dance,” I said. “I still don’t feel good.” Half of a truth.

Jade’s pout dissolves into a frown, her eyebrows taking a nosedive as well. “You never want to anymore,” she said quietly, dropping her grip on me. “What can I do to make you want to dance?”

“I… I dunno,” I shrugged, folding my arms across my chest. A playful smirk tugs at her lips. “You can let me-”

Nudging me with a hip she pulls at the bottom of her tank, untucking it from her jeans, wiggling it up a bit to flash a bit of her midriff. “No, I can get you out there,” she giggles, “I know I can.”

“Stop,” I said. She only slips her tank up a bit further, drifting higher and higher until I reached out and pulled her arms down to her sides. “Stop!” 

Rubbing her palms against the denim she wore she bobs her head and licks her lips. The playful energy was wiped away the second I touched her. Taking a step away from me she mumbles, “Bet when Changbin’s here you’ll dance.”

Her black boots take her away to her best friend who, if he wasn’t before, was definitely glaring at me now.

“Fantastic,” I said to myself, focusing back down on the glass that was leaving a ring of moisture on the faded table in front of me. Add it to the list of reasons her friends hated me, or the list of reasons she should leave me, but won’t.

What I said wasn’t a lie, I truthfully wasn’t feeling well, and she knew that. She woke me up only a couple hours ago. I was hungover, and tired, and nauseous, and anxious. Jade didn’t know the anxious part, I kept that to myself, but she knew everything else. I didn’t think it was a crime to not want to dance when I barely had enough energy to hold my head up. 

Part of me hates to admit that she was right. I planned to get up somehow when Changbin got here, but only because he was my safety net. Dancing next to Chan, who’s most likely out for blood, without backup wasn’t on my to-do list tonight.

Wrapping my hand around the glass I take a swig, fighting it down with a nauseating cringe. The dark liquor burned the back of my throat, warming my chest. “Christ,” I mumbled. My eyes flicker up to some commotion happening on the dance floor, and to no surprise, Han is there already running his mouth. The boy's hands move a mile a minute, attempting to keep up with his words.

His hair was styled differently, typically it hung over his eyes naturally parted in the center, but tonight the fluff was straightened, completely covering his forehead. In each ear he wore two diamond studs, one smaller and one larger, in size order with a silver chain around his neck to match. Looking at his hands that were latched to Jade’s shoulders I’m surprised to find him ringless. Normally he’d adorn his fingers with flashy rings, more jewelry to show off what a phenomenal job he had.

If he’s not talking about other people, he’s talking about that damn job. His dream job, his fantasy, his ‘so lucky to get straight out of college’ job- working right below the head of the company, the assistant for the CEO or the boss, whichever one Han says. I can’t even remember what the company even does. Jade’s brought it up, something to do with… stocks? Banks?

Either way, he’s the CEO’s son. He was getting that job whether he really wanted it or not, and now he gets to brag about his most amazing life.

I knocked back another swig of my drink with the intention of Han becoming a blur, he moved quick enough anyways, and then another when I noticed the three of them were looking my way. Jade’s smile had started to fade, Chan was biting his bottom lip, and Han wore a grin.

Here we go.

Almost taking out three different people after he detached himself from Jade, Han swaggered over to the table as if he’d already been drinking. When he sat down and leaned toward me, he reeked of vodka and his heavy ass Calvin Klein cologne. In case his get up wasn’t enough he had to make sure people knew he had money by his scent. I’m pretty sure people in the next town over could smell him.

“What in the hell are you doing over here by yourself?” he asked, resting an elbow on the back of the chair he had to jump into. He was four inches shorter than me.

Raising a brow I answered quietly, “Didn’t she already tell you?”

“Who?!” Han’s expression twists into goofy confusion, his eyes going wide. “Jade? No, she didn’t tell me anything. I asked where you were.”

“Oh,” I said, eyeing his flattened hair. Between the gleam of the shiny strands and his gaudy jewelry, his style and personality were entirely out of balance.

“Why so moody, bad boy?” he teased, nudging my arm with an elbow. Pulling away I curled my lip and glared behind him. Jade and Chan couldn’t care less, Nelly Furtado was blaring through the speakers and they were singing every word.

“Not moody,” I sighed. “Hungover.”

Han glanced at the drink in front of me and smirked. “Then you may want to drink that a little faster.”

Gritting my teeth, I said, “Believe me, I’m trying.” 

The two of us are startled by a shriek from the dance floor, and then a shout. Han whipped himself around and before I could brace myself he’s shouting as well. 

A muscular figure with broad shoulders and silver hair dressed all in black was swinging an arm around Jade, hugging her half around the shoulders. It appeared entirely innocent, the way he kept his head tilted away from her, and how he only allowed himself to use one arm.

Jade used two, throwing both around his chest, keeping her body on the side of his. Given another circumstance she’d have buried herself in him completely, but maybe she just wasn’t drunk enough yet.

She fit right beneath his arm perfectly, like the little crook was made for her. They were both just the right height, neither one was too tall nor small. Jade was shorter than me, way shorter than me. She was shorter than Han, and that kid was short. 

“Minho!” he shouted, gripping the back of his chair like a child, dragging out the last letter in the dreaded name that kicked me in the stomach. Tipping my head backward I’m able to down the rest of my drink easily, getting used to the burn, finding a comfort within it as my insides are ignited with nerves.

Silver hair is flipped toward us at the table. His eyes were dark, they always were, but even more so as he took me in. The rare lit up smile on his face falters as our eyes meet, almost as if he knew I was onto him. As much as Jade had been pining after him, Minho had been after her just the same.

The boy dressed in black, just as I was, carried himself with a confident swagger. Minho never cared too much about anything, but all at the same time, cared entirely too much. He was an expert at hiding how he was feeling, it made him a tedious person to be around. Without a quirk of a brow or a frown to go off of, I could never tell what was going through his mind. Unless he was around Jade. The cold exterior seemed to melt a bit if she were around.

“What’s going on?” I hear Minho ask, which can only mean he’s coming closer. Han was beside me, of course he would come closer. The two were attached at the hip.

Standing in front of Han, Minho takes a hand to his best friend's cheek and gives it a squeeze without making a face. I feel his eyes pan over to me, the two soulless pits of dismay attempting to eat me alive so he could swoop in and take away my Jade. 

My heart starts to beat heavily, pounding against my ribcage. Curling my fingers on the empty glass I clung to, I debate getting up to refill my glass, but that would give Minho an invitation to talk about me. The two were babbling about Han’s work day anyway, would they even care if I left?

Slipping out of my chair I try to catch my balance, almost falling into the table. Both Han and Minho exclaim some sounds of shock, then laughter once they realize I’m steady on my feet. Faking a smile I tip my empty glass and pop my eyebrows.

“And this was only one,” I said, rounding the table, attempting to escape Han’s dreadful cologne and Minho’s resentful glare.

“And counting last night, or, this morning. Stop the tequila!” Han laughed, waving a finger in my direction. Rolling my shoulders back I eyed him curiously. Minho takes in my figure and I want nothing more than to crawl away to the bar, where I can drown my sorrows in liquor and be alone. He had a way of making people feel so small.

Mulling over what Han has said, I chuckled and nodded, wiggling the glass around. “So she did tell you already,” I said, shooting him a glance with as much intensity as Minho was grilling me with. Han’s lips pull into an adorable smirk as he lowers his chin and flashes me his puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t want you to know she told me,” he said, his tone sweet. “If you wanted me to know you would’ve said something.”

“Told you what?” Minho asked him, looking between the two of us. Rolling my eyes I heard Minho laugh as I turned over my shoulder to finally walk away. He would get the info out of Han in a heartbeat, in fact, he didn’t really need to ask him, Han would let it slip out eventually. He’s got an uncontrollable desire to gossip, his well being depended on it.

Keeping my eyes pointed forward I make it to the bar without any distractions and plant my glass down on the wood that matched the tables and sit down on one of the stools with a cushion flatter than my will to stay here for the night. The bartender with blonde hair hanging at her shoulders in what I assume is her natural curl pattern approaches me and takes my glass, giving me a smile.

“What’ll it be next?” she asked, resting an elbow on the edge. Her blue eyes hint that I should make my way back here later after her shift is over. She couldn’t have been older than me, if anything she was a bit younger. I’ve seen her here behind the bar a couple of nights prior to tonight, meaning she must not know who any of us were yet. The other bartenders knew how to fill up my glass and leave me be, like Minho.

“Uh, may as well give me the bottle,” I said, and it made her laugh. Attempting to smile, the sound she makes resembles one that every other female I’ve come into contact with has made.

“I’m afraid that’s against the rules,” she said, leaning toward me, now resting both her elbows on the bar. Mimicking her, I cross my arms over my chest and set them on the ledge. She took my gesture as some sort of incentive because the smile that took over her glossy lips gave me the impression that she thought I was flirting with her. “You come around here a lot?”

“Unfortunately,” I mumbled, peering down at the glass she took from me. “You’re new. My friends are here all the time, you’ll get to know us eventually.”

“You with Minho?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. Nodding in response I watch as she laughs to herself and taps the glass on the wood. “I gotchu.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dina,” she said. “Are you Jeongin or Changbin?” It was my turn to huff out a laugh.

“Close,” I smirked. “Hyunjin.”

Dina’s blue eyes are sparked full of intrigue. “Ah,” she sings aloud, “Interesting. In that case,” she holds up the glass, “I really do gotchu. Gimme a minute.”

After grabbing the glasses of the people beside me, Dina whisked her way down the bar to whip up whatever she had planned, or whatever she had heard about me from Minho, and that I can only imagine is a trip. Her flirty eyes switched to ones that irked my soul. She attempted to look through me, she wanted to know me, but only my dirt. No one ever wanted to know more.

Knitting my hands together, I draw my thumb over a small callus on my palm, hook my feet on the rungs of the stool beneath me and sigh. The appearance of my hands reflected how I felt. Torn up, battered, and bruised. As repulsive as they were to me, Jade could never, ever get enough. She couldn’t even describe why they did what they did to her, they just drove her nuts, and she didn’t even care if my work beat them up, she said it made them sexier.

In all of my time spent with her, an entire year, she almost always zoned in to my appearance- complimenting how I looked, messing with my hair, kissing my knuckles, admiring my nose. In those moments that’s when she turns into the other girls, briefly, when she’s got her fingers laced in my hair and she’s biting my lip- because at the end of the day that’s all they want from me.

A full glass is placed in front of me pulling me out of my thoughts that were seconds away from spiraling. Dina is back with a small smile, popping a straw into the tall cup. With a wink she leans over the bar and whispers, “You’ve got a blonde checking you out over there.” Her blue eyes flicker behind me momentarily before she smiles warmly and hurries away to take care of her other guests.

I’ve got a blonde checking me out over there. She definitely didn’t know us, or didn’t know I was kind of involved with Jade. Unless Minho’s recruited her as well, making her play wingman to push me further away from the group, further away from Jade.

Picking up my glass, I place the straw between my lips and spin around on the stool to find this blonde, to see if she was even worth any of my time. I hadn’t decided if tonight was a night to create another problem or not, my main focus right now was to get drunk enough to not be able to remember what Jade and Minho get up to.

Dina was funny. Amongst the sea of people there wasn’t a single blonde aside from herself, which I had to admit, was an excellent play. I spotted Jade between Minho and Chan with her head tossed backward and her eyes closed, feeling the music as they all moved to the beat. Looking for Han, I wasn’t able to place him which was equally relieving and terrifying.

Scanning the rest of the crowd by the door, and then by the DJ, it was pretty packed for a weeknight. Then again, Haven was always bursting at the walls. With the heavy pours and the cheap prices one wouldn’t expect different.

Taking another long sip of the deliciousness Dina has curated, I start to spin back around on the stool, but then I find the blonde.

Wedged against the furthest wall Han sat on the lap of a curvy woman with long black hair with his arms wrapped around her neck. He had his cheek pressed to hers, and his lips were moving a mile a minute as he spoke to a boy in ripped jeans and t-shirt- Changbin. As happy as I was to see him, my eyes were glued to the tall, gangly blonde hovering behind him with his back pressed to the wooden planked wall.

It was Felix. It was Felix.

He was quick to catch me looking, his eyes darted away faster than anything, focusing on the people in front of him.

Hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans that hung on his tiny frame, the loose shirt he wore, covered in tiny green and blue stripes, was cut low enough to give me a glimpse of his collar bone and the tanned skin that lived under it. I’ve seen him wear this shirt before, except it was around Christmas time in December and he paired it with a white long sleeved shirt beneath it for warmth.

There was a watch on his left hand strapped to his thin wrist, and when he adjusted his arms to cross them over his chest I found that he was wearing a couple rings on his middle fingers as well.

His skin was smooth, tan and glistening, and freckles littered his cheeks all the way across his nose. Felix looked like summer, it was as if the sun shone just for him. 

The blonde hair that was cut short in the front but grew longer in the back made it hard for one to figure out if it was his real color or not, he could pull it off so naturally. Tonight it was a little curly, twisting against the nape of his neck and over his deep brown eyes covering his brows.

He was simple. He always has been since the day I met him. Happy, too. Felix never seemed to have much to complain about.

Looking at me again with only his wandering eyes, I can’t help it. Lifting my glass, I smile. Dina had no idea who he was, she barely had a grasp on who I was, he probably wasn’t checking me out, if anything he may have been contemplating joining me or not, but with how we don’t really know too much about one another maybe he was nervous or something- 

Walking toward me. Felix was walking toward me.

I felt the need to sit up straight and I did. I also tucked my hair behind my ears, cursing myself for not bringing a tie to pull it back with.

Leaning backward against the bar, I slid an arm over my waist and put my other elbow on it, taking another sip from the straw in my glass that was a real curse. Dina should know this as a bartender, you shouldn’t drink alcohol through a straw.

“You know you shouldn’t be drinking that with a straw,” is the first thing to leave Felix’s mouth as soon as he’s close enough to me. I nearly choked on my liquor as I swallowed it while I laughed. The sunshine smiles, perfect teeth all in a row.

“I was just thinking that,” I said after a breath. Turning around to place the glass down, I face Felix again and place my hands between my knees, letting the knobby joints squeeze some warmth into them.

“Hi,” Felix said, his hands sliding back into his pockets.

“Hi,” I said, noticing there was a three foot gap between us. “Wanna sit? You drinking?”

Shrugging, Felix gestures back to Changbin. “I drove us, not sure I should have anything.” His beauty didn’t correlate to his demeanor, he was stiff as a board. Maybe he was nervous.

Glancing to the empty stool beside me, I look at him with only my eyes and smile. “Doesn’t mean you can’t sit.” He had trouble breaking into the group when he first came around, this much I knew, so without a Changbin to hide behind I felt responsible for… well, him.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said with another shrug. A smile toyed with his plump lips, like it was always there.

Walking around the opposite side of the stool to avoid getting too close to me, he hops on with a soft sigh and shamelessly lets his gaze fawn over me. Feeling grateful that I’d showered, I smiled and spun around so we were both facing the bar.

Just be his friend, I thought to myself, you need a friend.

Which then reminds me how shitty I am at the friend thing. I only ever see anybody when I’m here, and most times it isn’t voluntary, I get dragged out of the apartment by Jade. I wouldn’t even call half of the people I hang out with friends anyway, so it wasn’t like I had many to keep up with. After college Changbin was the one to keep up with me, somehow understanding that I’m shitty at the friend thing-

“Keep overthinking and you’ll give yourself a headache before the tequila gets a chance to give you one first,” Felix’s accent is thick and it turns my ears pink, and not because he’s just read me like a book. Blinking a few times I glance his way and find his big eyes studying me. They’re slightly narrowed, and darting from either one of mine after they draw a conclusion from my brows. 

Rolling my shoulders back I attempt to relax my expression finding myself clenching my jaw to the point of it feeling sore once I unhinge it. “Damn,” I can’t help but huff a laugh.

“You okay?” Felix asked. He receives a drink from Dina, which I assume he ordered while my mind wandered into the void yet again. She gives me a cheeky look before she disappears.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered, leaning forward to suck down my drink until it was almost empty. Felix shakes his short glass around taking a small sip. “Thought you weren’t gonna drink?” 

Licking his lips, I totally tried not to watch, he extended his arm to put his glass in front of my face, nodding his head once, telling me to take a sip. Flustered by his forwardness, I lower my chin and let him guide me to taste it. 

The clear fizzy bubbles were simply a glass of Sprite.

I cringe at the intensity of the fizz making him laugh, and the boisterous, melodic sound is enough to paralyze me. The edges of his eyes crinkled, and his eyebrows perked up slightly, wearing the amusement purely in his complexion. His smile though… that was enough to cure a bad day, and it was happening without me even realizing it.

“You choose… Sprite?” I sneered, smacking my lips a few times before guzzling down what was left in my glass between the melted ice cubes. Felix laughs again. Soda was the bane of my existence, it was utterly disgusting, I couldn’t see why anyone would find it refreshing or as a first choice for a beverage- but I’d suffer through a glass just to keep him laughing.

“It’s good, you jerk.” The grin he wore negated his choice of word. “I’m responsible for another life tonight, I can’t drink.” Admirable.

“Still,” I shot him a sarcastic side eye, “It’s soda.” 

“I just think you’re upset that your taste buds can’t handle the excellence that is this carbonated beverage,” Felix said. There’s a brief pause between us, one that makes us fall into a fit of laughter.

“Carbonated beverage,” I repeated, making us laugh even harder. “So specific.”

“Oh god,” Felix groans amongst the laughter, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Setting down his glass he massages his temples and takes a deep breath. “It’s been a long day.”

Following his breath I took my own, I hadn’t laughed in a while. “You worked, right?” 

Dina swung back around to swipe my glass, replacing it with another full one and a wink.

“I did, and it was exhausting,” Felix said. “Everyone and their mother showed up today, I had, like, no breaks.”

Sipping my drink that tasted sweeter than the second one, I twisted my body toward him in the slightest. “Are you in the same… the, uh, same place as Changbin?” I asked tentatively, half worried he’d be offended that I never properly learned what he did for work.

With a smile he nods, sipping his amazing soda. “We’re still in the same place, just different positions, if that makes sense?” I give him a small hum to encourage him to go on. “We’re both with the kids, but Changbin kind of floats around the entire building while I stay in one wing.”

“Right,” I said quietly, zoned in on how expressive his face was as he spoke. “‘Cause he’s the music, and all that.”

Felix’s smile widens. “He’s the music, I like that.” I begged the blush not to rush to my cheeks. “He really is. The kids love him. I swear, most days we don’t make it through without him, ‘specially where I’m at.”

Furrowing my brows I rest my chin in one of my hands. “What do you do?”

“I work with the high risk kids,” he said, giving his head a little shake. “Anxiety, trauma, depression, PTSD. I’m usually the last option before… Well, if what I do doesn’t work out for them, they get admitted.” 

Suddenly the quiet, smiley, always nice Felix made so much sense. He was a children's therapist alongside Changbin who worked in music therapy for all ages, all cases. No wonder Felix could feel what I was feeling when he sat down. That’s probably the reason he was checking me out from across the room. He had the ability to see the dark cloud over my head.

“A busy day means you helped a lot of kids,” I offered, taking note of how much I had drunk while he was talking. I was almost down another glass. Felix rolls his eyes slightly, the first tinge of negative emotion I’ve seen touch his angelic features.

“God, I hope so,” he said, shaking his glass. “I have one boy whose mother’s on the verge of taking him in, even though I’m doing everything I can.”

He didn’t intend to, but his words tumbled me back to twelve years old, when I’m pretty sure I had my first bout of panic. My mother was never around though, it was just me and my dad, and god forbid I ever felt nervous in front of him or tried to tell him I didn’t feel good.

“How old is he?” I asked. Felix pressed his lips together in a silly smile.

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” he said, then leaned in toward me to whisper, “Twelve.”

Up close like this, with a few inches between us, I could’ve counted the freckles on his cheeks if I wanted to. He didn’t stay within my personal bubble for too long before pulling away and sipping his drink. 

His jaw could cut glass. I could literally slide my hand over it and it would hurt, that was how sharp it was. Although, as sharp as some of his features were, like his jaw or his collarbone, everything about Felix was soft. He was gentle. He was beautiful. No… He was pretty. And to me, that was a step above beautiful. Almost anything could be beautiful, but not everything could be pretty.

I think I’m a bit tipsy.

Clearing my throat, directing my attention to his eyes that gaze at the neon signs on the wall, the ones giving his round cheeks a tinge of a yellow glow, I asked, “What’s he deal with? The boy?”

Felix turns his chin, giving me another look that’s supposed to tell me he’s not allowed to share. The batting of his lashes, that definitely wasn’t intentional, makes my stomach flutter. 

What the fuck?

“Let’s just say he’s kind of a nervous guy, okay?” he said, ending the discussion. “What about you?” Felix shifts his shoulders to face me like I had done to him. “Did you work today? Help a lot of people? You do that too, yanno.”

An exasperated breath escapes me. Dropping both hands into my lap I lean backward and shake my head. “No, no work for me today. Or yesterday.” Felix nodded, letting his gaze fall down my torso again before it came back up to my eyes. It was curious, how it felt like he was observing me. The friends in the back would do the same, yet when Felix does it, it doesn’t feel vulgar.

I’m shocked he even remembers what I do. It’s not like it was a career of importance, all I did was service cars in a mechanics garage- hence why my hands were destroyed, I hated the gloves, I worked with them bare. I wouldn’t say I helped people in the way Felix or Changbin did, I wasn’t healing people’s past’s, or working through their trauma, I was changing their oil, or repairing the engine beneath the hood of their ancient vehicles.

Like, seriously, the eighties happened six years ago. Get with the times. Get a new car.

“Do anything fun today, then? Anything exciting while I was coloring on the floor with a nine year old?” Felix’s smile is charming.

“Uh, well,” I began, wondering if I should share the events of last night, or, early this morning, with him. Then again, if Felix was to become a close friend that meant I had to share these things with him. I’d totally tell Changbin, shit, he’d be the first person I called if I didn’t share an apartment with Jade.

Damn it, Jade. It was like I had forgotten about her the second I saw Felix.

Whipping my head around to find her, she was perched on a high top chair with a glass in her hand full of a pink colored drink. One of the guys grabbed it for her without a doubt, they must’ve scurried over to the end of the bar Felix and I didn’t occupy to slyly get by.

Chan was next to her, a muscley arm around the back of her chair. Han and Changbin had found them, occupying the other seats with drinks. Minho and his silver hair, and his sturdy back, and his defined cheekbones were facing away from me. He was across the table in front of Jade, standing, leaning on the wood with a foot propped up on the rung of Han’s stool.

They were looking at each other, Jade’s eyes alight as she ran her mouth. When she paused to sip her drink, Minho spoke, and she watched him like he was made of stars.

Beside me Felix turns, following my line of sight.

“Everything okay?” he asked, like he could see my heart slipping out of my chest. “Wanna go sit over there?”

“Definitely not,” I whispered harshly, declining his offer with haste. Directing my attention to the bar as Jade’s discussion seemed to intensify, I sighed a bit dramatically, making Felix laugh.

“Did something happen?” he questioned. A quick shake of my head isn’t enough to satisfy him, and though it didn’t feel as if he was pestering me, I didn’t want to spill my insecurities to someone who didn’t know an ounce of my struggles. “You guys didn’t break up, did you?”

Slamming a hand on the bar I nearly broke my neck to shoot him a glare. “Do you want to be my therapist?”

My bitter tone slaps him across the face, hard. His lips pull into a small pout and his eyes go extremely wide. Taking a breath he gives me a small nod of his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I overstepped, I’m sorry.”

Raising a brow I wait for him to say absolutely anything else before I choose my response. Apologies weren’t something I usually received, I was always the one to do the giving. All Felix had done was ask me some simple questions that I didn’t want to answer, it surely didn’t seem like anything to apologize for.

“No,” I shook my head, blinking a few times. Felix’s pout dissolves. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Familiar tasting words. Now this was normal.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Felix shrugged, brushing away the matter, sipping his drink. “I shouldn’t have pushed it, we can discuss more of my clients even though I could potentially get fired.” His smile returns and the polite change of subject puts me back in foreign territory. My comment wasn’t lashed back at with a rude remark, nor was it used against me. Felix didn’t get upset, he understood my backlash, why I did it, and moved past it without an explanation.

“I’m sorry,” I felt the need to repeat myself, keeping my eyes locked on his. 

After another sip of his soda he puts the glass down and twists to face me completely. A smirk toyed at the corners of his lips.

“You don’t have to apologize, Hyunjin, it’s alright,” he said, reaching over to tap the top of my knee quickly. The sound of my name rolling off of his tongue was spine tingling.

“Yes, I do,” I said, turning myself to face him directly, our knees now touching. My legs were a little longer than his, so eventually my knees were going to have to end up between his.

“Why?” he asked, twisting his brows, giving his head a slight, endearing tilt.

Swallowing hard, I clear my throat and dart my eyes around his face to search for an answer. I had no idea what to say. I was taught growing up that if you made someone upset, you were to apologize for it. Jade’s heard the word ‘sorry’ more times than she can probably count.

The way Felix made a face after I snapped made me want to apologize, but I hadn’t a clue why he was questioning me for it.

“Uh,” I mumbled, finding warmth and comfort within his dark chocolate eyes, enough of it to try to speak up. “I thought I, uh, hurt your feelings, when I…”

Felix waited patiently for me to finish and only butted in when he realized I couldn’t put it together.

“I fired you up first,” he said. “I crossed a line after you tried to shut it down. You established a boundary, you had every right to bark like that.” I couldn’t hide the laugh that escaped me at the use of the word bark. Pressing my lips together in a small smile, I shook my head.

“You really are a therapist,” I said, dragging my eyes sarcastically over his tiny frame. Felix pops his brows, his grin glimmering with glamour.

Lifting his glass like I had before he sat down, he said, “A fine one, at that.” He takes the rim to his lips and shoots back the rest of the bubbles.

Taking this time to admire him and his perfectly sculpted profile, I cannot seem to shake the feeling of desire that begins to manifest within my chest. And, not a desire that I was used to feeling three drinks deep into a hangover recovery night. I wanted him to keep talking. I wanted to watch his lips to tell me more about this boundary thing, and how I wasn’t wrong for having feelings, and I wanted to ask him why talking about it felt weird.

If that would be him talking about work, I felt bad asking him to do it. I know how it feels to get off of a long shift and then have someone ask me to check their tires, I’d hate to make him use his brain when he should be having a fun night.

Felix was eyeing me back, bumping one of my knees by accident as he adjusted his feet under him. Realizing I was staring, I glanced at my glass quickly and found it empty. 

When the hell did I finish that?

Looking back at Felix, he was still focused on me. He was waiting for me to say something. My tequila blundered thoughts couldn’t come up with anything smart, and beneath his gaze it was impossible for me to whip up anything sarcastic. He waited. He wasn’t going to… push.

“You look like you wanna say something?” he asked. Okay, he was waiting, but I guess he also wanted to help. 

“I do,” I said, and he nodded. “But, I don’t want to… overstep.”

What the fuck is going on, I don’t talk like this.

Felix leans his cheek against the fist of the arm that rests on the bar, and the plush skin squishes on his knuckles, his appearance softening even more so, if it were possible.

“Say it,” he shrugged again. “If you overstep, you overstep. I’ll communicate it with you if you do.” His smile tells me a secret, it tells me he knows my objective. Calm, nice Felix finally shows a hint of mischievousness.

Darting my tongue between my lips, I notice that Felix tries his hardest not to watch. Rocking one of my knees into his I glance down at where they touch and lift just my eyes to look at him. A bit of his bottom lip has gone between his teeth, nibbling at the inside. The chocolate brown eyes that were once sweet had shifted to something that startled me a little to see. I didn’t know Felix was capable of eyes like that.

His knees close, catching one of my legs between them as predicted. “Don’t act so surprised, you’ve been looking at me exactly like that since I sat down,” he said quietly. My lips part, in surprise, and I’m incapable of conjuring up words. Alas, the air within Haven claims another victim. With a small nod of his head to the dance floor, Felix leaned toward me and whispered, “Either tone down the arousal, or tell me what’s happening with Jade. I don’t do cheaters.”

haven masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[f0point5]

So I’ve been bouncing around the thought of why they might both be reluctant to get together outside of ruining the friendship, and something clicked. I want to say this could be totally off base and not be something you intended but I figured I’d share anyways.

I have a few friends who had bad parents, and as adult carry the fear that they will turn out like them. One doesn’t drink because her mom was an alcoholic, one worried about how well he could be as a dad because his was verbally abusive, etc.

I think it’s realistic to wonder whether either of them carry similar fears. Obviously just because your parent(s) suck doesn’t mean you will, but it’s a common thought.

They both have at least verbally abusive dads. Likely skirting the line of physical. Both had parents who got divorced and weren’t the best at raising them. I think at least some fear of commitment and ending up divorced is there for both of them.

But I think it’s quite possible that max could at least slightly worry that he could end up like his dad, even to a lesser extent. He had the nickname Mad Max for a reason and while that was obviously linked to his competitiveness and drive to win, it did spawn the whole Esteban shoving match. And when you contextualize it with his childhood it probably would be hard to have people point out anger issues like that and drawn connections to his dads.

I highly doubt Y/N has any concerns about him ever becoming verbally abusive but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry about his own temper and controlling it appropriately. Or that either of them worries the other person would fuck up. I think it’s heavily fear that they themselves will be the problem.

Not to mention they both may want children in the future and could worry that they wouldn’t be a good enough parent (because they didn’t have great examples) and could let the other person down. I have multiple friends with that fear too.

It’s very obviously not a black and white thing the way some readers seem to be interpreting it, likely because they don’t have personal (or secondary) experience with how a less than ideal childhood effects a person. Which is why I don’t fault either of them for failing to make a move. It’s a massive boundary to cross and not as simple as just admitting you love the other person. Sometimes you love people so much that you chose to protect them from yourself (even if you don’t need to)

Oh definitely. You hit one of the nails on the head.

Imma just point in our because fuck subtext lol you’ve explained this so well you’ve inspired me to talk about it.

Those two have both seen first hand how toxic their DNA can be (shout-out DNA by Lia Marie Johnson). We have Mad Max, who thinks, I don’t want to be gone like my dad was all the time, I don’t want to be angry like my dad, be a husband and a father like him. And we have Y/N, who, as we have seen, has a touch of her dad in her, too. The way she went for Mick’s throat in their argument is the same way her dad went for Max’s Achilles heel in the bonus part (“you’re just like your father”). I don’t think either of them ever think they would turn their tempers on each other, but no one thinks that at the beginning, do they?

On top of that, both of them had to watch their mothers struggle being married to men like that. Y/N said to her mother she’d rather have nothing than a relationship like the one she witnessed and I think she really means that. The same way Max doesn’t want to be a husband like his dad, Y/N wouldn’t want to be a wife to a man like hers. That runs deep for both of them.

And that’s with anyone. Add to that the possibility of that being how they lose each other ? How can it possibly seem worth it to them? How would one of them sit down and say, I know we’ve both seen seen some bad shit, I know we have a great thing going, but do you want to risk all that and bang me? Even if they thought the other would say yes, I can see why they’d hesitate.

It may be a cliche to have witnessed bad relationships and be wary about new ones but it’s a cliche because it’s true. Even if you have been able to come out the other side of it like they both have and have relationships with both your parents, it never stops being true that your first example of love was something that is temporary, and that most of the time just hurts. They’ve found a way to love each other in a way that doesn’t hurt, that’s significant for both of them. They can’t be blamed for wanting to hold onto that.

This has made me emotional for no good reason.

[aimixx]

kaveh x gn! reader

A short Kaveh drabble

concept: accidental hand touching (credits to eloquentmoon)

Words: 637

reblogs are highly appreciated<333

Taglist: @astranne @hakunonn @scarlet-kazuha @jackpotsadgirl69420 @yoizhi @baelloraa @itsyourgirlria @itsactuallylina @vinnie-w @teeheelittlebitch @garlicforthewin @soggy-bruh (if you want to get tagged, please fill out this form!)

"Are you in love with someone?"

As he was taking a small walk around the Grand Bazaar to get materials for his work, Kaveh overheard the question as he passed by two people having a conversation.

Love. He heard from many people that it is a beautiful feeling, a feeling that gradually makes you change your flaws and draws you closer to the person of affection. 

As an artist, Kaveh is always drawn to beautiful things, he is a man who is determined to make all his creations earn the title of beautiful. So far, he never failed once and he takes pride in that.

So of course for creative people like Kaveh, emotions and experiences that leave a positive impact on someone is obviously a beautiful scenery. There is nothing more beautiful than a smile that comes deep from the heart.

Kaveh would sometimes wonder when he would experience this feeling with someone. He loves every design he makes, loves the smiles and joy it brings to his clients. 

"Are you serious? There's no oil paint?" 

He was at the shop where he got all his materials from, the vendor there knows Kaveh well and everything he usually gets. Kaveh was about to greet the vendor when he noticed a new face.

He never saw this person before, not only in the Grand Bazaar but in Sumeru City in general. 

"Excuse me," Kaveh said, interrupting the two, "There's actually another store that mostly sells paint." 

"Where is it?"

"Near the fountain." He said, pulling out a bag of mora as the vendor packed up everything that Kaveh needed.

"Are you an artist too?" They asked, joining Kaveh on the small walk to the other store. 

"I'm an Architect, my name's Kaveh." 

"I heard about you, my teacher told me a lot about you and your projects. The name's (Name). Nice to meet you." 

The blossoming of a new friendship that neither the two artists know where it will take them. The two bonded over many things, their artwork, adventuring and many more.

As they got everything they wanted, neither wanted this precious time to end. 

"Wanna go out for lunch? My treat." (Name) said, Kaveh wanted to protest but he was unsuccessful due to (Name) insisting on treating him for lunch.

"Take it as a celebratory treat for making a new friend."

~☆~

As the day neared its end, the stars decorated the dark night sky as the two new friends were sitting on a bench admiring the sparkly sky.

"This was nice." (Name) said, stretching out their hands as they reclined back into the bench. 

"It is a nice change honestly, I really needed it."

"Out of inspiration?" They asked, dropping their hands on their lap. 

In the process, their left hand accidentally touched Kaveh's right hand that was resting on the bench.

At the contact, the two blushed and (Name) pulled away their hand. 

"I'm so sorry!"

"No it's my fault, I'm the one who was moving my hand." (Name) said, looking away and blushing. Kaveh was silent as the blush deepened. “Anyways, it’s getting late. See you tomorrow!” They stood up, alerting Kaveh out of his trance and he looked up at them as they started walking away. “Wait!” He called out, (Name) looked back at him as he walked up to them. “Can I walk you home?” “Sure.” (Name) replied with a smile. They had a short but nice walk to (Name)’s residence as they continued to have small chats about random stuff they saw as they walked.

When Kaveh returned home that night, he sat down on his bed and looked at his hand. The same hand that brushed (Name)’s.

Is this what love feels like?

A smile lingered on Kaveh’s face as he embraced the beauty of love.

[captainvulcant]

ATLA Live Action Review

I will preface this by saying that largely I enjoyed watching ATLA and I would watch a season 2, would even look forward to a season 2.

However, I did have a lot of issues with this series, issues which I don't feel can be solved by saying "well it's a different series it shouldn't be an exact copy paste of the original". If their changes are worse than the original then that is a failing, and there was a lot which was objectively worse. I'll begin with:

Dialogue Are these things written by AI now or something? The dialogue was giving me "I forced an AI to watch x hours of halmark movies and write one for me" but for your standard adventure series. Listen, we have had this already in 100s of other series and films. ATLA is so unique, could we not have kept the dialogue to that style instead of the expositiony "It's my responsibility" style basic adventure hero stuff? At best it was dull, at worst it was actively cringy. I felt that Zuko and Iroh's dialogue was better and most engaging, no real issues there, but only on a couple of occasions did I experience the Gaang's characteristics and dynamic that I was hoping for from the dialogue.

Music Would have very much liked to have heard some East-Asian instruments and music style. The bog-standard western orchestra did the same as mentioned above: it's dull, it's predictable, it didn't bring me into the world it took me out of it. I was metaphorically taking a shot every time the orchestra swelled at a dramatic or poignant moment. The exception was the little Leaves from the Vine motif they dotted in around Iroh, that was wonderful. Could have done with more of that for Aang's emotional moments.

Exposition So much exposition. Imo they shouldn't have shown the air nomads being attacked. We should have seen Aang fly off and then seen the fire nation making its way up the mountain ominously (on foot!! why do the firebenders have bending jet packs now??? this defeats the later plot??? why can everyone fly now????) before cutting to black. If they really wanted to show it it could have been in quick flashbacks as Aang makes his way through the air temple, which I think would have made it feel more personal to Aang and more devastating. As it was I was just reminded of Star Wars through the whole thing (so many Star Wars vibes at the air temple it really threw me off). Dialogue exposition also awful. If they had spent less time explaining every single plot point to the audience like we're stupid and more on the relationship between the characters and character development we might have actually felt like we progressed from episode 1 to 8. Which leads me to:

Characterisation I'm considering making an entirely different post for this honestly, but here it is in brief. I think we really lost something in this series, and for that I blame the 8 episode thing Netflix is obsessed with. The actors did a good job I felt, particularly with a script that was more rote phrases and platitudes than wise words and attitudes. We didn't really get to see friendships developing, they were just there. We didn't see the characters grow, and the issues which they faced and overcame in the series (which worked perfectly well!!!) have been changed for no reason. Sokka's dad was disappointed in him?? Why???? We already have Zuko whose dad is disappointed in him. I love Sokka's original character, I love seeing him getting over his mysogyny. You know what might have been helpful, in 2024 where all studies show that young men who spend time online become more conservative and sexism is rife?? Maybe showing that it's ok to change your views, that it's ok to work with and respect women, that people will still love you, and that it's not always your fault when you're taught stupid shit. That would have been useful. Taking away that aspect of his character meant changing Katara's and Sukis, and not for the better!!!! Like jesus Suki, my poor Suki. She's such a cool character in the animation. She has responsibility, she is competent and cool and knows her place in the world, but is also open to the idea of change. Why did they make her so awkward (original Suki is fun and funny as well) and unsure? And more parent drama?? Again??? Do they only have one plot?

I also felt that by missing key episodes like the Northern Air Temple we really missed out on Aang's character from the animation, and the emotional weight those scenes could have brought. This Aang doesn't goof off, he's already learned his lesson. This Aang doesn't struggle to balance his beliefs as an airbender (the last airbender, the only one who can continue them) with his job as the avatar, he's just 100% up for the fighting with no conflict. This is a huge part of his character's original internal struggle (and a massive plot point later on) and it feels like we lost something by taking it out.

Final Thoughts Once again, I did enjoy the series. I got super emotional at some parts, I particularly enjoyed the first 4 episodes. Overall I liked the casting and I think the actors did a pretty good job and I'm excited to see where this will go in season 2.

But, I do think that we are allowed to criticise and compare things. I'm seeing a lot of people on here being like stop over-analysing things!! No, lol. Firstly, this is tumblr, the over-analysing website. If you want a superficial review go to tiktok. Secondly, if I had one thing to place the blame on for my issues with this series it's that it is more generic and dumbed down than a cartoon made for kids almost 20 years ago. I am not alone in thinking that media is becoming very basic and sanitised (while at the same time becoming more explicit and violent? It's like no we can't have nuance or complex issues but we will show you explicit sex scenes and awful violence) and also it all feels the same. And I do think we should be wary of the homogenisation of media.

[horizon-verizon]

I had a legitimate question/complaint that I wanted to send you and I'm still going to do so but while I was thinking about it something else occurred to me and I wanted to share it but I wanted to tell you something first.

The change in Rhaenyra and Laenor’s relationship is the ONLY change I am willing to wholeheartedly accept because it was a wonderful change.

The canon versions aren’t much related to speak of. Rhaenyra has her reasons for not wanting to marry Laenor and at one point she makes a homophobic comment and Laenor did the bare minimum by showing up to a couple of events and visiting so he could say “oh yeah, that baby is definitely mine🤭 Can we call him Joffrey?☺️” (which still means he recognized them as his own and they were legally Velaryon)

But in the show Rhaenyra and Laenor quickly create a mutually beneficial partnership, Rhaenyra cares for Laenor very clearly during 1x05 trying to reach him and I interpret her expression while they are getting married as her acknowledging Laenor’s pain, Laenor is obviously much more present in the children’s lives and at court, we can see a little how complicated that dynamic must have been with Laenor having the freedoms of a man and Rhaenyra being technically superior to him (and none of them seem resentful of each other!), Laenor also worries about Rhaenyra and blames himself for some of their problems (it’s not them, it’s Alicent) and failing Rhaenyra and the children. Rhaenyra in turn takes the time to assure him that she doesn't blame him, that she doesn't see him as defective or wrong.

A I have no idea where the shot came from that Laenor was uncomfortable holding Joff (I thought he was uncomfortable because of Alicent, you know, the woman who made his wife walk after giving birth and that insults him at least twice) but I don't think he is any more uncomfortable with children than most parents of that time, I would even go so far as to say that their relationship is close. We see Laenor carrying Joffrey both on the way back and when Rhaenyra leaves the court, in the second case they could have given him to a nanny but no, Laenor was the one carrying their son. Another moment I really like is the low-key shot of Laenor and Luke holding hands during Laena's funeral or the whole thing with Laenor, Rhaenyra and Harwin with the kids. There is no discomfort, children are not distant or uncomfortable when dealing with him.

In all the ways that matter Laenor claimed the children as his own, he had a pretty good relationship with Rhaenyra despite it not being sexual in nature and the problems that brought about for reasons and it is shown that he loved them.

The real queer friendship in the show was Laenor and Rhaenyra not Alicent and Rhaenyra. And that's my controversial opinion today.

I talk about Rhaenicent HERE, how it didn't and still doesn't make sense to me due to the writing not bringing enough reason as to why it exists. I also must remind people that I am not queer (I don't think bc IDK these days) or of the LGBTQAI+ community. So if I am missing something that could explain some stuff about queerness in fiction or real-life sexually-incompatible relationships, let me know, please!

I am torn about this relationship--book AND show-wise but what I am sure of is that this relationship wasn't as "mutually" beneficial as some might think. Most of it was neither of their faults, but Rhaenyra's situation vs Laenor's is enough reason for her to be resentful not just of her father but him as well. Their relationship was consequently emotionally distant from Laenor even while living in the same spaces as him for a decade. So instead of being a "sweet" thing, it was more a "bittersweet" thing.

Book!

Context for the comment Rhaenyra made against marrying Laenor ("A Question of Succession"):

"My half brothers would be more to his taste".

And Laenor naming their last child ("A Question of Succession"):

"Laenor was at last permitted to name a child after his fallen friend"

And these are when and where the V boys were born (114, 115, 117).

There are layers to each part of these quotes: Laenor is "permitted" to name his own child. More likely barred by Corlys than Rhaenyra because the first two have Velaryon-sounding names and Laenor thus has been made to push aside his first (known) great love/disconnect from his own gayness/"repress" for the sake of patriarchal-heterosexual tradition WHILE Rhaenyra's comment about Laenor reveals a parallel to the preference shown towards boys and men in her society. He would "prefer" someone else, a male, over her. Her concern is not primarily "owning" him sexually but it mirrors/parallels/reminds her that her father/patriarchy diminishing a woman's importance or decentering her for the man's centering and sociopolitical elevation. The "man" here is Viserys and Corlys.

But in the inverse, Laenor named their kid after his past lover when Rhaenyra couldn't give a Targaryen name or any name of her choosing to their last two boys.

Of course, that is a little self-centered of Rhaenyra but the bubble of resentment comes from a valid place and is not completely unfounded and she sorta has to be bit more self-centered...more tragic for them both.

And Laenor naming their last child after his dead lover when he's supposed to keep his relationships a secret for the better of their kids if not for himself is also sort of self-centeredness. Again, when Rhaenyra seemingly couldn't name her own first 2 children.

In a way, Young!Book!Rhaenyra takes Laenor's sex acts (bc Westerosi do not have the conceptions of sexuality being an identity element so much as an act of pseudo-taboo sex acts) as his being another person/obligation/worry who is forced on her, not going to add to her life and not caring for her or prioritizing or supporting her to a certain degree that she needs--another "burden" aside from the one political benefit of tying the Velaryons to her...which is necessary in the first place bc she is female and Viserys pissed Corlys off.

It's like it touches on that wound girls/women carry. In-text/world, I felt it moves through Rhaenyra-the-person/character as unconscious resentment towards another instance where she cannot access what she desires and becomes stuck with a person who cannot even desire her at the very least, as she finds Harwin can later. The show actually does well enough to bring out what was likely true from the original story here when she's talking to Daemon in episode 7 about Harwin: "It felt good to be desired". To have someone be there for her.

(bc despite that injury he had that might have taken months to heal, I still think it's too strange and non-coincidental to ignore how Rhaenyra's first three kids all do not look at least like herself in coloring, not in eyes or hair...Alysanne was one Targ with Andal blonde hair and blue eyes while Alyssa had one purple eye for goodness sake! and the Targs after Daeron II's generation had traits from either one or both parents, Targ or not Targ...this is a fiction piece and while it models real life, it is less random as real life, and "85-90%" of stuff is done for a reason)

And with Laenor, as I mentioned, he must have felt pulled apart from himself--resentful of his forced marriage and further repression from such marriage to Rhaenyra, thus his staying away.

I don't think that they didn't come to respect each other or even not care about each other in the book NOR that they were horrible people for how they felt feelings and their circumstances, how they moved around each other, and probably interacted. Especially after Laenor began spending more time with Rhaenyra after their sons' confrontation with Aemond at Dragonstone.

But it never came across to me as particularly close or Laenor taking up the responsibility to those he apparently did see as a family until said family was hurt. And I have not seen anything to suggest Rhaenyra was concerningly hurtful or homophobic towards Laenor after they marry in canon. So, do we really know if she actually hated him in the original story, or thought his queerness made him less than or worthy of hate, esp with what I said about it more about expressing her frustration?

Show!

You:

But in the show Rhaenyra and Laenor quickly create a mutually beneficial partnership, Rhaenyra cares for Laenor very clearly during 1x05 trying to reach him and I interpret her expression while they are getting married as her acknowledging Laenor’s pain, Laenor is obviously much more present in the children’s lives and at court, we can see a little how complicated that dynamic must have been with Laenor having the freedoms of a man and Rhaenyra being technically superior to him (and none of them seem resentful of each other!), Laenor also worries about Rhaenyra and blames himself for some of their problems (it’s not them, it’s Alicent) and failing Rhaenyra and the children. Rhaenyra in turn takes the time to assure him that she doesn't blame him, that she doesn't see him as defective or wrong.

It seems like Rhaenyra still got the shorter end of the stick to breed a stronger sort of resentment. I think that their relationship was actually more or less the same as it was in the book, and the space they shared only affected Laenor's time spent with the kids and not time spent helping Rhaenyra elsewhere. I could argue it should have been even a little worse bc they live in the same space and Laenor is doing the same things as his book counterpart.

That unequal position, in my view, actually kept them emotionally apart enough for Laenor to not really understand Rhaenyra as a person while Rhaenyra seems to understand Laenor pretty well. To look at this doylistically, honestly, this could be a fault of the writers and the time jumps, but let's dive in.

FIRST - We have not actually seen, at any point, Laenor approach Rhaenyra to ask what's up/check-in. Any time he's there, he's there for either the most dramatic things (birth of a son and climbing the stairs), complaining, or inadvertently make her seem an anomaly (comments about breasts). At the end, again like in the book, he offers to be closer to her and focus on her and the boys...and that is the only time we see some sort of action of the sort of support Rhaenyra sees she will get from Daemon, thus her decision to have Laenor "killed".

After Joffrey Lonmouth's death, Laenor found Qarl Correy and Rhaenyra had allowed the man to be close to Laenor despite the rumors. Laenor doesn't mind and even seems to like Harwin. But unlike Rhaenyra, Laenor does not need nor want a good image as much as she does. Rhaenyra needs Laenor more than the reverse.

SECOND - In the 5th episode after Joffery's death, yes, she is acknowledging his pain but you'd have to be self-involved to a particular degree or just plain unobservant to not sympathize and acknowledge that pain...plus she knew they were together as Laenor told her and they made that a private arrangement on the beach presumably just a few days before. Finally, in that episode, she has not actually lived with him yet.

THIRD - Due to the time jump, we do not know how Laenor got to be a permanent resident in the Keep of King's Landing when he should have been at Driftmark as he is in the book before Laena's death/Vhagar's "claim". Does either Viserys or Corlys order him to stay with Rhaenyra? Did Rhaenyra order him to stay by her side with her? Did Laenor choose freely or under a nonverbal pressure from those around him and what exactly did that look like? Did he have a confrontation with his father concerning his sexuality and the image its open-secretness presents to the family and he just needed to get away from Corlys--did he and Rhaenyra bond over that? Even so, how does the court treat both Rhaenyra & Laenor, both of whom are in court with their respective lovers: Laenor being cuckolded (doesn't matter that he's gay, he's a man and "gayness" is not an identity to these Westerosi) and Rhaenyra, as the future ruler, cannot be made to be seen as weak through her husband's/partner's open "infidelities".

More Notes

Many have noted how unaware Laenor is in the show. Both are resigned, but Rhaenyra is less..."blind", I'd say, because she has to be "on" and aware of others all the time. This alone shows that they cannot be as close as some people claim, because they are not on a similar page of observation of each other or their situation.

This is Rhaenyra & Laenor says about his desire to go to war:

War is afoot again in the Stepstones, Rhaenyra. The Triarchy takes new life from its alliance with Dorne. They're waylaying ships and cargo. Qarl's been fighting there. He showed me a... ( laughing ) He showed me a sack of sapphires big as walnuts he took from the pirate he slew. Ah... After all this time, this is just what I need, a little adventure. A good, honest battle to enliven my blood again. He says there is a Tyroshi general there, a giant, they say, who dyes his beard purple and wears women's frocks. ( laughs ) A few months, maybe...

AND

I am a knight... and a warrior. And I have played my part here, faithfully... for ten years. I am owed some...

AND

Rhaenyra: You are owed nothing! For ten years, you have indulged yourself at court, bought the finest horses, drunk the rarest of wines, fսckеd the lustiest boys. This was our agreement. I have not begrudged you. But... you do not desert your post when the storm lashes. Laenor: The wise sailor flees the storm as it gathers.

Aside from me not liking how Rhaenyra's decision to go to Dragonstone is compared to what Laenor meant by leaving (bc she is doing it for the sake of family and people's lives versus him trying to abandon said family...this is not some modern tale where the newly out and thriving queer person incidentally has kids who can survive their absence or at least not have it threatened after all):

Laenor had been trying to get out of being in KL with Rhaenyra for, as he calls it, "adventure" as if he weren't already in some sort of agreement with Rhaenyra to protect those he himself decided to treat them as his own sons. If it weren't for the fact he sees those kids as his own AND that agreement before they were even born, I wouldn't 100% begrudge him. Add to the fact that, because he's a man, if he weren't so lower-ranked or actually cared for his non-trad family he could have just gone and no one would disparage him in the slightest. Her having to remind him of his promise and stop him from making comments about her body to--who is to her--a stranger while she's trying to stop herself from leaking and coming back from a council where her stepmother/former friend has tried to humiliate and undermine her the whole time -> her reminding him it was not her who put him in their position so as not for him to make it seem as if she were the one imprisoning him in the first place when he said he had the right to is itself a stack of emotional labor. It truly read to me that Laenor was trying to escape the life he has with Rhaenyra as much as he did in the book. It wasn't actually much of a real change.

At the same time, we must remember that show!Rhaenyra is a very different person from book!Rhaenyra. This is a woman who would not go to war for the throne her father gave her because her father was a man who tried to be as nonconfrontational as possible AND for a prophecy that she should have reasoned her father never would have told Aegon, of all people, about and how he took the time to drag himself out of bed for her & her kids' rights/protection in episode 8. The show unconsciously makes a more quietly repressed woman of Rhaenyra in an attempt to make her more "likable", to her own, more-avoidable detriment.

One reason why show!-her may not feel like ordering Laenor more--other than realizing his being forced like her--is the inevitability of his freedoms despite his queerness. Why make a "fuss" when it will not actually go anywhere and it will actually hurt Laenor? Another reason is by how she looks at Laenor, she feels guilt at being the person Criston was actually angry with--thus indirectly leading to Laenor losing his lover so traumatically, thus maybe trying to take it upon herself to make sure Laenor has little reason to either resent or begin to actually hate her more (bc he is both one of the only people there in her camp to keep her some sort of company aside from Harwin in some way) and/or she feels like she must take the responsibility of making him happy. Both of these can give another "responsibility" along with being a mom, the court images, Alicent, her father's social self-blindness, etc even though Joffrey's death is not her fault as much as it was Criston's. All/more eyes are on her and her behavior and she is the one having to birth a kid one minute and walk up a flight of stairs the next. And she was absolutely going to do it alone because Laenor was not there until he decided to be. She is the one who will receive the least grace or attention and thereby the most blame. This is definitely not Laenor's fault...but his using that ability to be away, it certainly adds to the burden, potentially becoming a polyp of the main problem. This is, why again, they both decide that Laenor should "die", to repeat myself.

These things are inevitably going to breed resentment from Rhaenyra and travel against Laenor, esp when he's deciding to make it that much harder without acknowledging that he is or thinking how it could be. And if she were more resentful, or really even a bit more expressive towards him than she was in the show, I do not think that is a moral flaw on her part, doesn't make her the bad guy. Not expressing your anger more often doesn't make the relationship closer/better...in fact, it shows how disconnected they are emotionally. Not only is it possible she cannot feel as if she has all the right to "too much" of Laenor after Joffrey's death and how it went down, but she nevertheless "needs to" demand "more" from him because he's still not doing much, he agreed, their kids' lives and reputations are in danger, and by the near end of epi 6 he's even trying to get out of that much. No man could really understand or appreciate all of this, but again, that distance and trying to get out of things really clinched it for me.

Just because she doesn't hate him or lash out at him, doesn't mean the resentment against him isn't there and that it isn't strong. It shows itself in her sarcasm at his asking her if it hurt; her looks at his drunken talk about her leaking and swollen breasts to Qarl Correy (how fond would one be of a person after that tactlessness because it also shows how little Laenor really minds how his words will come across to her at specific moments?); her having to make it clear to him he must stay by her side and explain to him why she must (the mental load we modern talks about is paralleled here), etc.

And just because show!her was more accomodating, doesn't make her an actually better human than her book counterpart. Same with Laenor--just because he seems like he was around more often--especially since they here share the same space--doesn't mean he is there with her because he absolutely wants to be and is performing the duty he said he would. This is what Rhaenyra was talking about after she dismissed Correy so she could demand Laenor stay.

If anything, Laenor's proximity to Rhaenyra and still not being as there as he should makes it easier for him to be closer to his sons and have a relationship of sorts with their elder selves (because in the show those kids are also older--by appearance--than their selves in the book by this time, and thus they have had more time with Laenor as their dad). It didn't bring the married couple closer so much as give Rhaenyra visible, everyday proof her husband was not her partner.

Thereby, again, it wasn't actually all that "mutual"--he didn't have to put as much energy as her and he didn't and he didn't really think of how he could...but like you said, he did more than most fathers in that the little initiative he does give is more than what most fathers in his position would give Laenor does take a bit of initiative than most men would give in his position even if they wanted to be her Prince Consort for the influence, title, and power alone. He tries.....but then that still makes me question if he actually is there by circumstance, order, or choice and how he feels about that. Still, it's not good for him, so does he, if ever, blame or lash out at Rhaneyra and how does he express that.

The show tells us "unlikely", but that doesn't seem psychologically or emotionally realistic to me. On Laenor's end, he's told he cannot be that one masculine thing--be a brave adventurer/traveling knight--because his class/station has to lead him to marry a princess who depends on his voluntary discretion the balance between security and public respect when he never asked for any of it but he's told that he's a horrible person if he doesn't do this for his ambitious father.

It is because of all this that I do not see Rhaenyra as necessarily being hateful toward Laenor in either book or the show for his sexuality as much as his not being compatible with her needs after a whole life of subtle and unsubtle constraint while acknowledging that it isn't either of their fault...until in the show Laenor was headed there.

Their kindness (to a degree) for each other and Laenor's obvious willingness to at least perform when told or encouraged certainly make things easier. It's still far from what's needed, with it not quite meeting the bare minimum.

So for me, the change that I liked was their coming to a verbal agreement for them to look for other intimacies. It could have happened in canon, but we'll never know, GRRM chose to write this like a very unreliable history book written by misogynist, homophobic, etc. "men of learning". This wasn't a dumb choice, without its own storytelling merits (there's a reason we continue to use frame narratives), or even fun to read through...it's that you're trusting your readers a lot to know what's in their hands and some are just not going to get it or want to.

[skulkdecayed]

I am genuinely so fucking worthless. I work full-time a shitty minimum wage job (which I'm barely good at) and make barely any money (which I'm awful at managing), I'm supposed to be a full-time but because I'm so fucking stupid and awful at functioning like a normal fucking person I fail most of my classes and then lie about it to my parents so they won't be mad at me more than they already are. I piss off the people around me, including my wonderful girlfriend. I don't know why she tolerates me. she's so smart and driven and actually has a future ahead of her. she's kind and funny and beautiful, meanwhile I'm a nuisance anyone around me. I don't communicate right, I don't put effort into the right things, I'm not good at academics and I don't try hard enough to make up for that. what future could I actually have? oh wow, good for you that you started Testosterone- does that give you literally any worth as a person? it doesn't make me smarter, or better at time management, or even fucking likeable. it wont make me attractive since there's nothing to work with in that department, I can't even take care of myself. im emotionally incompetent and that weighs down on my friends, since I can't provide them anything. all I do is take up space. I'm so much of a coward and a little bitch that I can't even do anything about it. I keep telling myself that they'd be sad if I killed myself, that my cat would be confused, that they all care about me and love me, but I don't know why they should. I don't even like myself. I fucking hate myself actually. I'd hurt myself again if it'd do anything other than make me look like an attention seeker in their eyes. the fact that I'm worthless isnt their problem, I shouldn't be bringing it to their attention more than they already can tell. my job is comic relief and to provide my friendship to them, this pity party bullshit isn't good for them. she said she isn't mad, but I don't believe her. I can't even just say no to her, its always "or you shouldn't have to" or "well its not your problem" and she doesn't fucking get how serious I'm being. she SHOULDNT have to deal with be being so stupid!! she shouldn't have to put up with me! I love her so much and I'd do anything to make her happy. she's the light of my life, quite literally. it's such an awful thing to say, but I'd be hurting myself a lot more if we weren't dating. she'd notice if I suddenly had open wounds or scars or something. she'd notice because she's a good person and then she'd have to pity me. the more I think about it, the more I want to. I can't even go home because it'd be easier to do it there and hide the evidence. I could break open one of my shaving razors like I did in middle school. I deserve to be in pain for being so worthless. I need some kind of punishment or something for making other people deal with me. I don't want to be alone, I know I shouldn't be when i think like this, but reaching out to them and telling them that just forces them to fix a problem that isn't theirs. I won't end anything, I'm rational enough right now for that, but the middle ground is very tempting. I deserve it. I could be in such a better situation if I wasn't useless and actually did something about it. maybe I should use that effort to make up for how worthless I've become. I love the people in my life, but I hate my actual life so much. I'm scared of missing out on them; growing old with my girlfriend, movie nights with our friends, the future we all could have. but I'll be never be good enough for that future. the awful life I have right now will never get better if this is the best I can be. I'll never earn that future and I'll be left behind as they all suceed. I want to be better, but I never make the effort to. they don't need to know how I feel. this is my fault, my problem to fix, and if I can't finally do something with myself then they don't need to know about it.

[twyisontheline]

Now this caused such a domino reaction in me and triggered a whole text post about one of my headcanons. So, headcanon talk! If you are interested in some angst and some aroace Alastor, keep reading.

I know i am overthinking a little cute animatic BUT hear me out. Aside from how i adore Alastor's expressions in this. This is perfect for one of the flavours of Radiostatic i didn't write my hc about yet.

So i guess the lyrics originally are meant in the classic allo "I am not in love with you yet but i can see it happen, maybe" but what if we have internal-angst-about-his-aromanticism!Alastor here.

Alastor has never felt romantic attraction or feelings towards someone, in his human life or demonic death-life-whatever. Now, with how strong amatonormativity is, he did try. He knew (thought) he was supposed to. It never worked. He reached the conclusion that he is fucked up. When he starts killing people, it almost makes sense - he is a psychopath, he is fucked up, that must be related to not being able to love how other people do. How his mother would want him to love. He feels shame and guilt, even if he tries to push it all back down and tell himself that others are weak because they feel so desperate with their love interests and it is something he would never want. And it is something he doesn't want. But society tells him it is something that makes one's life complete and makes you happy and fulfilled and he wonders. Is he broken in a way that prevents him from experiencing something that could be amazing?

Then he dies, and overall, life gets kinda easier. In the whole depravity and anguish and fucked-upness of Hell, there isn't an ideal happiness to wonder about. There isn't a society wanting you to marry and have kids and be normal and quaint. He can embrace being fucked up.

Then he meets Vox. And slowly, but surely, the TV Demon finds a place in his heart. It's not unusual - Alastor did feel affection and platonic love for people before, he knows he is able to feel that. And it has never been an issue that he doesn't feel romantic love, since none of his friends has ever really wanted that kind of relationship with him.

Until it becomes an issue. Until he realizes that Vox has feelings for him. Feelings that are romantic. That kind of love that he, Alastor, is not able to feel. And this opens the wound again. His fucked-upness could very well make him lose Vox. He doesn't want to lose their friendship - Vox gets him and spending time with him is pleasurable in an unique and special way, and no one else gives him that kind of joy.

So he thinks: "I can make myself love him." He forced himself to be many things in his life and death, he won't let a weakness, a fault, a lack-of-ability, mess up with his goals and with what he wants. He is not the weak powerless boy he once was in life. He is a powerful Overlord. He takes what he wants. If learning to feel romantic love is what he needs to do to obtain what he wants, he'll do it.

So he tries, and lies to himself a bunch of times in the process, but he has a lot of insight in this headcanon, he knows himself pretty well, so he knows, deep down, he is failing. And he sees it as that: a failure. So the mix of shame and guilt that is reappearing like an emotional flashback of his human days mixes with the shame of not being able to do something. Of being powerless in front of his own faults.

Fluff ensuring after all the angst could be that he finally confesses all this to Vox in a mental breakdown scenario - cause we know Alastor loves to freak out dramatically when he feels powerless - and Vox is like: "Man, calm down, it's not that big of a deal. I am not exactly thrilled at the idea you don't reciprocate my feelings but the idea you have to fake stuff with me and you tried so hard to be something you are not is even more upsetting. …Plus kinda flattering, tbh, but let's not digress. What i am saying is, you don't have to do it. I am not going to end our friendship over it."

(And idk, Vox has some vague-time-appropriate knowledge about queerness that is more than Alastor has, because Vox is queer and unlike Alastor who doesn't register most of Sinners as not-entertaining-enough and avoids any place that has a even remotely sexual-relatedness, he actually goes out and talks to people and did talk to people while figuring out he was queer. So we can insert here a speech by Vox about sexual/romantic orientation not being an illness etc etc with a bit of backstory about Vox being queer in the fifties too.)

AGHH I FINALLY FINISHED THIS AND POSTED IT ON TIKTOK! if this flops im reposting without the cinema-like effect but HJSJSJSJSDKD PLS GO CHECK MY TT OUT CUZ I PLAN TO MAKE MORE ANIMATICS LIKE THIS IN THE FUTURE!

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

338 of 2023

Spoonie Secrets! 🥄 [True or False]

Created by joybucket

At some point, living turned into just existing, just trying to survive each day.... It's hard when what little energy I have has to go into taking care of myself. It feels like an endless cycle of hospital stays, specialists, medications, and worsening symptoms. It never gets easier having to adjust to new limitations due to your illness. Medical devices do not make you any less beautiful. 🩷 Even though they do not say it directly, I know that I burden those around me. It's not my fault, but it still hurts. I wonder what it's like to live unafraid of your own body's destruction. Chronic pain is exhausting. Honesty about symptoms is not negativity. I am more than my illness, even if it doesn't always feel that way. I am always in pain, even when I'm laughing and smiling. Just because I look okay doesn't mean I am okay. Hearing that my illness is incurable was the hardest thing I've ever had to hear. You can be happy and still be in pain. You cannot tell how someone is feeling based on the way they look. Sometimes the good days make the bad days feel even worse. It's hard not to worry about what's going to happen next when you get so used to everything always going wrong. "You're coping so well with all of this!" Have they considered that maybe I'm just good at pretending? Chronic illness often means looking in the mirror and not recognizing your body. I'm not sure yet how to balance wanting to have hope with not wanting to get hurt again. Burnout doesn't just apply to the workplace. Nothing feels longer than waiting for pain meds to kick in. 💊 Showering when you have a chronic illness is exhausting. 🚿 Support can come in many forms, and online friendships are totally valid. Chronic illness changes the dynamics of your relationships for better and for worse. My fatigue is not the same as you being tired. One of the hardest parts about being disabled is living in a world that wasn't built for you. It's hard not to feel envious when others are doing what I once could. Some days, life with a chronic illness seems totally manageable, and other days it feels impossible. Although I recognize my strength, living with a chronic illness makes me feel constantly fragile. Rare disease looks like me. 🦓 It is hard not to feel like you are disappointing everyone around you when you are not improving. I know this struggle is teaching me so much strength, but it doesn't make it any easier. My illness may be a big part of my life, but I will not let it define who I am. There is so much more to me than being sick. Just because I got out of bed today does not mean I'm cured. At times I get sad that I have lived with these symptoms for so long that they are now my "normal." Telling me that other people have it worse does not make my situation any better. Sometimes the treatment seems worse than the disease. 💊 Being in survival mode all the time is exhausting. Chronic illness is so expensive. 💸 I do not think I will ever lose a sense of bitterness for my body betraying itself. I will forever hold some level of anger for the loss of my health. It is hard to explain the feeling of claustrophobia when you are stuck inside a sick body. It is defeating to know I can do everything right and still not get better. Chronic illness has made me unrecognizable to myself. A migraine is not just a bad headache. 🤕 Sometimes the grief I feel for my old life is all-consuming. Answering "How are you?" can be so hard when you are chronically ill. Chronic illness looks like getting your hopes up for a new treatment, only for it to fail. No, I am not "fine" one day and sick the next. My symptoms can just go from manageable to debilitating from one day to the next. I am sick always. Chronic illness: Being forced to be stuck in a constant state of survival mode. How is it that I can feel so strong yet so incredibly fragile at the same time? Sometimes a low-symptom day feels like a heavy reminder of what I'm missing out on. There is so much to juggle when you are chronically ill. Not abiding by your physical limitations can be very dangerous. It's okay if your biggest accomplishment this year was just surviving. Exercise won't cure my incurable illness. 🏃‍♀️ I don't share about my illness for pity or attention; I share for awareness. Sometimes I feel like I have to choose between staying alive and enjoying being alive. You do not have to consent to every treatment your doctor suggests. With chronic illness, some days our best looks like just going through the motions to survive. That is nothing to be ashamed of. I never imagined that testing "in sickness and in health" would be how my marriage started out. You can do everything "right" and still become disabled. It's hard not to feel like I've let my younger self down. Just because I'm quiet about my pain doesn't mean I'm not hurting. You call me strong and brave, yet you don't see how truly depleted I am from this battle. You expecting me to get better makes it hurt even more. My illness may limit me, but I will not let it dictate my life. It's an incredibly lonely and personal loss, losing yourself forever. Society tells us to hide our struggle, then questions if it is really there. I can't remember what it's like to wake up in the morning and not be in pain. It gets hard not to think about all the time this illness has stolen from me. When your days look the same, it's hard not to think about all you're missing out on. The bathroom floor has become all too familiar. 🚽 I wish I could go back and tell myself to appreciate what I had more. You never know how quickly things can be taken from you until they are gone. There isn't a single aspect of my life that chronic illness doesn't impact. Watching a doctor Google your symptoms is so disheartening. There's no off switch for my chronic illness--even when it is inconvenient. Living with a chronic illness can be incredibly monotonous. Disabled isn't a bad word. Just because I look good doesn't mean I feel good. It's hard to realize that my life will never be the same as it was before I got sick. Maintaining friendships with my healthy peers can be really hard. You don't need to apologize for having a chronic illness. It's not your fault. Having a rare disease that not all medical personnel understand can be really terrifying. I am so grateful for treatments that are keeping me alive, but sometimes I hate them. 💊 The changing of seasons can be HELL on a chronically ill body. The same diagnosis can look completely different on different people. There's no shame in taking medication. 💊 Flare-ups are not your fault. I'm so tired of this sickness. Some days I just want to scream and cry and ask, "Why me?" There is strength in this struggle. Missing out hurts, even when you know it's what's best for your body. Nope, still not better. It's called CHRONIC illness for a reason. It's hard to admit that seeing my peers thriving sometimes makes me feel even more upset about my reality. I wish I felt as strong as everyone thinks I am and assumes me to be. Accepting the reality that I'll be sick forever is hands down one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It's hard to feel like your pain is truly seen when your illness is invisible. I know I will never be healthy again, but I still hold on to the hope that I will see some improvement. When you're chronically ill, it gets hard not to envy the healthy people in your life. You should never be made to feel like you have to prove how sick you are to anyone. I'm not unreliable- my health is. Your best is going to look different every day, and that's okay.

[shrimpalt8]

[● It's so hard to be me. I still have to heal but I can't because nothing will let me. Everyday is a new wave of pain, and I just have to hold onto the little things I have, but even they hurt. It's nice to be with people I care about, but it's also stressful. Only some of them know the real me, but everyone else doesn't. I wear a mask and act cool so they don't see how much I struggle to keep myself together every single day. I am scared to death of everything, and regret every single choice I make to avoid those things. I'm scared of losing friendships I have because I suck at keeping them. I can't hold onto anything I have ever. It's hell to keep on doing this every day with no real breaks from the struggle. I fight so many battles all at once and I know I'm gonna fail them, but I try again anyways. I hate that too.

I hate that I suffer from so much trauma and that nobody cares about it. I hate that I know everyone will leave me eventually because I'm too broken to love. I'm too irreparable and I'm just holding together the pieces of myself that haven't turned to dust yet. I wear so many different masks every day and try to fool myself so I can stop hurting but I never fall for my own tricks. I know too well that it's all a lie. I sometimes wish people saw me, and sometimes I'm glad they don't. Words can't heal me if they mean nothing to me. I can listen to anyone say "it's going to be okay" but I can't just hear someone say "I'm sorry I abused you growing up"

I will never heal because I am stuck with the people who hurt me and I have become too attached to them to let them go, because I care about them for some fucking reason even though they are both monsters. I hope that we all die one day except for the only one of us who has a goddamn glimmer of hope left in him. People can say anything they want, but they won't actually understand. You won't ever understand and nothing you say will ever make it okay. You don't know the kind of shit I went through.

I'm always reminded of how small I am. I play it off as a joke because I don't want to make people feel uncomfortable by telling them how I feel about that, but I have always felt small and like I will never be more than I seem. I want to be tall and stand higher than I usually would. I want to pretend I am more than I am right now, because I know this is all I will ever be because I don't want to fix myself. I am not allowed to fix myself and I am not allowed to move on because nothing has repaired me. Nothing will fix me. Nothing wants to fix me. I can't fix myself because I don't know how and every single attempt I've made has broken me and sometimes others. I want to be sorry but can't. I can say sorry as many times as I think will help but I don't feel sorry. Why should I be? Not everything has to be my fault.

I am too afraid of everything, so much so to the point I'm afraid of showing that because how dare I show signs of inferiority. I'll burn as bright as I need to be until I can burn bright enough for anyone else to see me as something more. Doesn't matter if I'm a villain to someone or a delight to others. I want to stop being small to everyone. It means so much when others tell me things I should have heard when I was young.

They ruined me. They continue to ruin me. I will never escape them. I will live in their shadows until I die. No wonder they care so heavily for the people who hurt me and despise the people who care the most about me. I talk about going to hell but I already live in it. It's always a gamble being in this household. They will find a way to get mad at you. I am a fucking wreck and I will never heal. It never gets better. The doctor knows it's a lost cause but he sticks needles into it anyways in hopes that we'll be okay. The great one laughs and tries to find ways to pull us forward instead of throwing us back into the abyss where we suffer and die.]

[total-drama-brainrot]

Alright I'm home, it's 3am and I'm hopped up on ~2 cans of peach Monster. Time to enter the brainrot zone.

My first thought is that Noah remaining friends with Owen but intentionally isolating himself anyway is so much more tragic than him being discarded by his whole friendship group, because Owen is right there; a pillar of support in his time of need, and yet he can't bring himself to burden Owen with the stigma of associating with 'the cheating bastard'.

Because Owen would gladly be ostracised by the rest of the cast if it meant he could make his little buddy smile, even just once. And Noah knows this- shares the sentiment, even- which is why he'll do everything in his power to keep Owen's name from being dragged through the mud. He doesn't deserve to suffer for his loyalty (though Noah would be more than glad to do so, should the shoe be on the other foot, which makes him a little hypocritical). If that means turning his back on his best friend- pretending he doesn't see the raw hurt on his face with every well-intentioned snub, pretending that same hurt doesn't pierce at his heart like thousands of poison-tipped needles- then so be it.

So he ends up practically ignoring Owen's existence in an effort to publicly disassociate the taller from himself; if people stop associating Owen with Noah, they won't bother him for being best friends with 'The Bad Guy', and he'll be spared from their judgement.

The sentiment is sweet, if a little misguided, and he would absolutely try to explain his thought process/justification to Owen before completely cutting him off. Though he'd probably be super vague about his reasonings, because he can't really explain why he's branding himself as 'The Bad Guy' without risking the whole plan falling to shambles (he loves Owen, but the big guy's a bit of a blabbermouth), so it's heads-or-tails as to whether Owen really understands that Noah's doing this for his sake or if he's left to wonder why his best friend won't talk to him.

The promise of an all-you-can-eat buffet and a full explanation at a later date isn't quite enough to quell the pain of abandonment, but it's enough to prove to Owen that his little buddy isn't the villain he's painting himself to be. Now if only he could convince everyone else of the fact.

As much as I want to let Nowen live angst-free, I think they deserve a little angst, as a treat. Also this is me agreeing that Noah is also loyal to a very distinct fault- of harming himself and those he cares for in misguided acts of loyalty. Not that it wasn't already apparent in the whole 'cheater arc', since that's just another example of him being so loyal to those he cares for that he's willing to bear the burden of social stigmatization for their benefit.

And Noah refusing to manipulate/take advantage of Owen, for all his scheming? 💋👌 Chef's kiss. Absolutely canon, couldn't have written it better myself.

.

Now, imagining Eva's reaction to Noah's final confession is painful.

She's very much so a straightforward girl- never one to beat around the bush, not even to herself- so when she sees indisputable proof that, not only was Noah never a two-timing jerk to begin with, but he really did consider her (and Izzy) his close friend? Close enough that he was excited for his own elimination, because it means he could spend time with her? Close enough that he truly believed she'd never even consider hurting him?

She can't ignore the fact that she was wrong. And her erroneous actions led to her friend being hurt.

Needless to say, she's crestfallen. Apologetic doesn't even begin to describe how she feels; Eva spends days holed up in the nearest gym, physically exhausting herself as she tries (and fails) to process the guilt churning in her gut, wondering if she even deserves the chance to make amends because she hurt her friend.

Her physical strength is usually a point of pride, but every time she thinks of the potential damage her tough, calloused hands could've done to him- her friend, who didn't deserve her ire- she's struck with a sense of self-loathing. What's the use of being strong when you only use that strength to hurt those around you?

It isn't until Noah himself accosts her during one of her self-destructive workouts (accompanied by his menagerie of partners, both romantic and platonic) that she fully processes her feelings; the self-doubt, the guilt, the shame, because as soon as she looks at his face all Eva can see is the ghost of a bruise marring his features, the echo of his nose crunching under the impact of her fist.

Luckily, she's surrounded by people who love and appreciate her enough to weather the storm of her long overdue breakdown. After all, who better to teach Eva how to forgive herself than the people who have already forgiven her?

Thinking about the fake dating AU again. 🤯

What if, during his segment on the Aftermath, Noah plays off his 'cheating' as something so emotionally detached it makes him look almost psychopathic, in an attempt to make himself as unlikable as possible?

The 'cheating' was simply strategic, is all. It wasn't his fault the two of them had to go and catch real feelings; Noah was just playing the game. Nothing more.

What? You thought he had feelings for them? Don't be ridiculous, Noah felt nothing for either of them- they were just there to carry him through the competition.

(He doesn't anticipate the ache that twists through his chest after that statement. It isn't true in the slightest, yet even just pretending to not care about his partners is physically painful.)

At first, both Geoff and Blaineley commend him for enacting some long overdue karma/vengeance on the antagonistic duo, but the more Noah intentionally digs himself into a hole- the more hateable he makes himself- the more people actually begin to pity both Heather and Alejandro. Which was the plan from the beginning, so Noah fully commits to it, playing off every interaction as just another cog in his manipulation machine; he's the 'High IQ', after all, of course he planned it all.

And he hides the nausea writhing in his gut from the blatant lies he's sprouting under a carefully blank, uncaring mask of indifference. Every claim he makes is said in the most casual tone- as if he's commenting on the weather instead of admitting to masterminding the heartbreak of two strong competitors- and that's somehow worse than if he would at least seem smug about his achievement. Because at least then he'd (appear to) care.

So, when the Aftermath finally ends, Noah becomes persona non grata. No one wants to even look at him- who knew the little snark could be so ruthless? So uncaring?

And Noah, knowing that he can't confide in Owen (who can't keep a secret to save his life) or Izzy (who's too unpredictable to trust- and who also 'leaked' fake information about him to Sierra during her time on Celebrity Manhunt, so who knows what else she's leak?) turns to his friend Eva, who promptly decks him in the face.

"I'm not friends with cheaters."

And when he tries to explain himself, clutching at his quickly bruising face and hoping that she'll see reason or at the very least afford him some decency, she throws his actions back in his face (actions have always spoken louder than words with Eva). Claiming that, if he's willing to lead on two people romantically, who's to say he isn't also faking their friendship? How can she trust anything that comes out of his slimy mouth?

It hurts. Every accusation is like a wave of searing heat against his already blistered heart, and yet Eva's eyes are so cold as she looks at Noah like he's the scum beneath her shoes.

So he flees to his hotel room.

And, for the first time in years, he weeps.

.

Given the informative finale of World Tour, the Aftermath crew were given the go-ahead to host one last hurrah, to properly question their finalists about their scheme, and to clear Noah's name.

Their audience was practically frothing at the mouth for an update.

During their interview segment, Blaineley (in an attempt to stir up some drama- she's always endeavouring to stay on brand after all) plays clips of Noah's callous 'confessions' on his Aftermath segment post-elimination, hoping to cause some trouble in paradise for the lovely throuple by sewing the seeds of doubt in their minds.

To her surprise, both Heather and Alejandro start laughing at the clips as if they're the funniest thing they've ever seen, huddling closer to Noah as they poke and tease him. Noah, in turn, sinks in unto himself, red-faced and mortified.

"What? How can you be alright with him saying that?" Cries Blaineley, scandalised that her attempt at brewing tension somehow didn't work.

"Because he does not mean it." Alejandro explains. To his side, Heather nods in agreement.

"How can you be so sure?"

Heather points to the screen, where past Noah is lying his ass off for the world to see, stoic save for the barely noticable twitching of his fingers and the occasional jump of his leg.

"He's lying through his teeth! It's so obvious- you weren't even trying to hide your tells, and after all the practice we did!"

"I didn't need to. Neither of you were there to call me out on the bluff."