#and ig if i can expect anyone to understand where this frustration is coming from. it's them.

[xannerz]

snark ahead

idk its just bonkers to witness how often ive seen tunglr users easily 'spread this like wildfire!!11' w/ like the most commonplace/preaching-to-the-choir stuff on here and at a certain point it feels wildly performative and self-congratulatory like there's a psa quota we have to reach-- but when it comes to AZE and TUR violence on ARM ppl suddenly start muttering awkwardly and hem and haw with this very quiet but very transparent ohhh-jeez-i-dunno-maybe-it's-both-sides-isms and i think i know exactly where it's coming from, but i also kind of dont care b/c it's not an excuse lol.

and ik this sounds more vaguely accusatory than intended so ill just idk. clarify?? that im not coming from that annoying and pervasive 'x people should and can rb this/you're bad if you don't rb every post about This Thing' angle i see all the time on this site, either. it's condescending and creates this weird artificial pressure on people and makes individuals feel like their Social Justice Quotas are being unmet in the panopticon of the internet --- and i can go on and on and on about why i think that messaging does more harm than good, but im rambling now and that's besides the point.

idk im just tired? like that disconnect btwn western ppl/journalism and the rest of the world. it takes 2 seconds to google shit and if you have any basic media/news literacy you could easily reach the conclusion that: "oh ok what's happening to ARM is fucked up actually and it's literally another genocidal land grab by AZE on behalf of big brother TUR." but you see enough hand wringing and noncommittal language across soc media just enough, banging your head against a wall is preferable to sifting through all that noise.

[lixiehan]

stress reliever

pairing: chan x self insert (female)

description: college au! school was hard and you often find yourself taking life a little too seriously - that’s where chan comes in. after being paired up for a science project (that’s worth a lot of your grade), you become irritable and stressed. the problem being, chan doesn't like attitudes. 

warnings: fluff and smut themes, lots of dirty talk, male receiving oral, dom!chan, bratty and sub!reader, degradation and public sex ig???

word count: 2.5k

requested by: @coffeechangbeanie​ (slightly adapted the plot - not by much) also based on this unholy gif of chan. ur welcome

“and that leaves chan and y/n” your professor said, nodding at you both. “i expect every single person to do their part in this assignment, is that clear?” he continued. the class acknowledged his wishes, despite half of them being asleep. 

you looked to your side to see your project partner, chan, who coincidentally happened to be your current fuck buddy. you had absolutely no idea how this came to be. you were a quiet, quote-on-quote ‘nerd’ and most boys at your school didn’t look at you. at least, that was the case, until you caught chan’s attention. of course, you found him insanely attractive. after all, his big lips and buff body ran around in your mind most days. you mostly saw him at school, as well as the very few parties you attended. you never considered approaching him, though. he’s usually found beside dozens of girls (hotter and more popular than you), pretty much begging to ride him. 

you also never considered the idea that chan, of all people, would approach you and offer you help. the very few times that boys spoke to you, it usually consisted of them for help with the work that had been set. yet, the ‘relationship’ between you two started the day he saw you staring at the paper in front of you with utter distress in your eyes. 

-

“y/n, right?” he spoke from behind you, his hand making an appearance on the table next to you. instantly you felt a knot in your stomach as he leaned over you, “you are looking particularly stressed” he continued. 

“u-urm, yeah a bit” you choked out, trying to swallow your nerves away. “maths is hard” you near enough whispered, not daring to look at him. 

“hmm, that’s not good. is it?” he sympathised, which sent shivers down your spine. the deep tone in his voice made it sound more like a groan, one that you had daydreamed of frequently. you shook your head frantically in response, acknowledging his words but fearing what your mouth would blurt out. this was quickly noted by chan, who radiated confidence like you had never seen before. you felt him bend over, his mouth now level with your ear. “can’t you use your big girl words?” he whispered. “want me to help you?” 

you gasped quietly at his seductive words and although you may be shy, you certainly are not stupid. his choice of words gave away exactly what he was offering you and as nerve-racking the experience may be, you were certain that a man as fine as him was going to know what to do in the bedroom. 

and well, you were right. 

-

“so when do you wanna get this out of the way with?” chan asked, snapping you back to reality. he noticed the dazed look in your eye, it was very apparent you were daydreaming about something. “thinking about last night?” he smirked, his hand now placed firmly on your thigh. 

you tutted in response, “no actually, i wasn't”. you tried to suppress your emotion, considering his guess wasn't too far off what you were actually thinking about. “stressed” you explained in attempt to change the subject. his hand moved to your lower back, rubbing gentle circles to soothe you. although chan was strictly your fuck buddy and stress reliever, he always provided you with comfort when you needed it. “relax, y/n” he told you, “we’ll get it done and we will get a good grade for you”. 

although he wasn’t the type of student that particularly cared about his grades, he at least tried to get a half decent grade - to some extent, at least. “can we meet up in our free period tomorrow?” you looked at him, wanting to get this stupid project over and done with. he nodded, secretly knowing it meant he would get some alone time with you. 

“cool, thanks”, you smiled forgetting where you were for a second, too busy staring into the chocolate brown eyes next to you, until the loud ringing of the bell made you jump. you were relived to have an excuse to look a way from him. 

without fail, every time you made eye contact with chan you were left with a pool of wetness between your legs - he knew it, too. he would stare at you, his head slightly titled back with his perfect pink lips begging to be kissed. he would lick his lips while staring at you, making them glisten in the most beautiful way possible. from his point of view, you looked desperate for his touch and he thrived off it. he often laughed at the expression on your face when you frantically deny that you aren’t turned on - you both know he can read you like a book. 

you hopped off the lab stool before bending down to pick up your bag, making sure chan had a good view of your ass. you heard him chuckle, “already wet from a bit of eye contact?” he teased. you smirked as your back was facing him, not offering him a response to his question but rather throwing your hand up to wave him goodbye. most likely, you were going to pay for that behaviour later. chan made it clear from the very beginning that he wanted you to be verbal and most of the time you were, except the odd occasion when you felt bratty. 

although you could count on chan to help with the project, ultimately you never split assignments with anyone 50/50. there had been one too many occasions of classmates fake promising you that ‘i’ll do it later!’, for you to fully relax. you headed towards your usual spot in the library, a table that was slightly hidden away amongst the endless shelves of books before setting your books down on the table. 

you picked your phone up which led you to the realisation that only an hour had gone by. you sighed, throwing your head onto the table in frustration. this project was a lot harder than you thought it was going to be and will all due respect to chan, if you didn't understand, he wasn’t going to either. 

your entire body had been screaming for you to go home and sleep for the past four hours, yet you refused and continued to sit there in complete and utter annoyance. it wasn't until the clock read 11pm that you decided enough was enough and picked your bag up with significant force, stress seeping from every inch of your body at this point. 

when you arrived at your apartment you immediately ran to your bed, not bothering to change - sleep was your priority right now.

*buzz, buzz* 

your eyes flickered open to the painful sound of your alarm, desperately throwing your arms around until you found the sounds source. you sighed, staring at your ceiling, contemplating if the pain of going to college was worth it after all. 

forty-five minutes later you were ready and heading out of the door, ready for another day of stress. you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, smiling to yourself knowing exactly who it was going to be.

[08:49am] chan: still on for later baby girl?

[08:49am] y/n: yes

you thought by now you’d be used to the pet names he called you, but you sure as hell were not. 

[08:50am] chan: ok. excited to see your little pretty face. 

[08:51am] y/n: science project, remember? 

you rolled your eyes in annoyance and shoved your phone back in your pocket. yes, as much as you wanted to ride chan’s face and be fucked into oblivion by him, you had other priorities right now. you barely slept last night because of this stupid project, the last thing you wanted was chan to be all over you when trying to complete it. 

-

"you’re late” he teased you as you walked into the science lab where you agreed to meet. your eyes gazed at your watch, which showed 1:33pm. you scoffed, “hardly”.  

you took out your laptop and textbook, tossing both onto the countertop next to chan, before making your way over to the stool to this right. he noticed your demeanour straight away, usually you would have apologised for being late - even if it was only three minutes - and you would have crawled to his side offering to make it up to him. he decided to remain quiet for the time being though, the longer your attitude lasted, the more reason he would have to get his way with you. 

you opened up the textbook to reveal the notes you spent hours on last night. “you already started?” he queried, pulling the book closer to him with a confused look on his face. 

“yes and it’s going to be a hard essay to write so we better get on with it” you noted, opening up a word document on your computer. 

“and you started writing it?” he asked, this time in disbelief. 

“only a few hundred words” you shrugged like it was nothing, even though it took you hours. he sighed, “its a project for two people, y’know?” 

“yes chan, of course i know that. i was in the class with you when it was given, was i not?” you snapped at him, running your hands through your hair in frustration. he meant nothing by his words and you knew he was right, you probably should have waited to start it but your inability to cope with stress takes over you sometimes. 

“attitude, y/n” he warned you sternly. alongside the rule of always being verbal and answering his questions, chan also had a rule against bratty attitudes. if he sensed an attitude on you, he would fix it via a punishment - something you were *somewhat* familiar with. the few times you were bratty it was usually because of how irritable you become when stressed. “was just saying”, he defended himself. 

you ignored his warning, continuing with “you weren’t gonna be the one to do the background reading, were you chan?”. 

once you made the mistake of turning to face him and realising he had an eyebrow raised at you and a dark look in his eye, you knew you well and truly fucked up. 

“get on your knees” he ordered you, which for some reason, took you by surprise. you gulped, hesitating for a moment before he told you for a second time. “don’t make me ask three times, princess”. 

you scrambled to the floor and placing yourself under the desk and in-between his legs. “what have i warned you about multiple times?” he asked, placing his finger on your chin, forcing you to look at his eyes. 

“n-not to be a brat” you stuttered, his gaze making you nervous. 

“that’s right” he hummed. “and what do you continue to do?” 

“b-be a brat”, you admitted. with deadline season around the corner you hadn’t been able to help your attitude lately. 

he nodded, appreciating your honesty. “now, i’m going to fuck that attitude right out of our mouth” he told you as he slowly lowered his jeans. “and you’re going to take it like the good girl i know you are. isn't that right?” 

you nodded frantically and bit your lip, scared you may end up saying something you shouldn’t. “remember princess, you gotta be quiet otherwise we’ll end up with an audience” he warned you. “but something tells me my pretty little slut would like that” he hummed, running his hands through your hair before grabbing it in order to control your head. you instantly felt the heat rise in-between your legs as you listened to his filthy words. 

you opened your mouth wide in anticipation for him, hoping it would work your way to his good side. he teased his member at the end of your mouth, knowing you probably wanted this more than he did. you felt his grip tighten on your hair as he pushed his way into your mouth with no warning. you battered your eyelashes up at him, hallowing your cheeks and trying to suppress your urges to gag. 

“you like being used like this, don’t you” he groaned in a low tone. your mouth felt insane around him, there was no way he was ever going to get used to this feeling. you hummed in response, sending vibrations down his member and earning another honey glazed moan from him. 

you tapped his leg and he pulled back, knowing that was your indication that you needed to breathe. you still hadn’t learnt to take him like this fully, his sheer size being too much for your petite mouth, but he loved the way your mouth looked so full as he thrusted in and out of it.

“god, look at you” he appreciated, “you're taking me so well after that bratty little outburst of yours” he groaned, his head rolling back in pleasure. 

although you could hardly ignore the pool of wetness that was growing in your underwear, you were aware chan would catch onto any slight movements you made to try and release yourself. right now, you had to focus on your breathing and making chan cum. 

although he was being careful not to be too rough with you, his pace picked up slightly as you drew him closer to the edge. you moaned around his member again, adoring the sight you saw above you. “fuck baby” he moaned, i'm gonna cum all over that tongue of yours”. 

you wiggled in excitement at his words. you adored the taste of him (considering he ate exceptionally well), but you adored the fact that you were the one that made him feel that good. 

his thrusts continued to pick up pace as you coughed slightly around him, but moments later he came undone all over your mouth. “hold it” he told you as he bent down to pick you up from the floor. he did this a lot, he liked to watch and make sure you swallow his cum - otherwise there’d be another punishment over his lap. 

you obeyed, waiting for his instructions. “okay, you can swallow”. you promptly swallowed his mess, opening your mouth wide to prove to him it had all gone. 

“that's my good girl” he cooed, pulling you onto his lap into a gentler manner. “what’s with the attitudes, huh?” he asked. now he punished you, it was time to make sure you were actually okay. 

“sorry, channie” you apologised, twiddling with your thumbs. “been really stressed. shouldn’t have taken it out on you” you admitted. 

“yeah, you shouldn’t have” he nodded, “but it’s okay. feel better now?” he asked, brushing your hair behind your ear. you nodded in response, your stress levels now significantly lower. “talk to me properly next time princess. i’ll help you” 

you agreed to approach him next time you felt like this, knowing it would be better for both of you. you placed a small kiss on his plump lips, hoping off his lap and sitting next to him - suddenly remembering someone could enter at any second. he giggled at you, considering you didn’t care if someone entered 5 minutes ago.  

“thanks chan” you smiled at him, picking up the pen in front of you, ready to give this project another go. 

“no problem princess. i like being your personal stress reliever”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Not Bad

Prompts: Hihi, i have a Merlin prompt if you're interested. Merlin thinks he's a bad person bec he was taught that magic is bad, but also Bec of all the stuff he did/does to keep Arthur safe and ig throw in some touch starved!Merlin too for fun. But the knights compliment/hug/etc all the time and Merlin just doesn't understand what he's supposed to do with this, so the solution is to breakdown crying and try to convince the knights he's the bad person he sees himself as and the knights are just like "but you're wrong and he's 25 reasons why you're wrong" Plz, thx, love your writing - anon

im a fuckin sucker for soft knights & arthur w merlin so, if ur still takings reqs, i would love to see when the knights realize merlin still views himself as a "monster" like is hinted in first ep (? i thinkk, im rusty on my merlin trivia)- is it a passing comment he makes and they realize all together? knight cuddle pile? just give the poor boy some love - anon

if you'd want to write it i'd love to see the collective moment that the knights realize that merlin is self-harming in some way (in my brain this is probably in like a denial-of-things type thing that he probably doesn't even see as self-harm bc he's an idiot, could even be something like healing everyone else w magic but refusing to heal himself... idk feel free to do whatever you see fit!). i can only imagine they'd be frustrated with him and themselves but theyre just loving large idiots (': - anon

ahh yes all the prompts

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: implied/referenced self-harm in the form of intentionally depriving oneself of physical contact because THAT COUNTS

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don't care

Word Count: 3462

Arthur is confused, very upset, and nothing is alright anymore, thank you very much.

Because you see, despite the image that he tries to present—emphasis on the word ‘try’, there, according to his knights—he does care an awful lot about his people, especially his one particular person that happens to be able to say an awful lot without saying anything.

Merlin. He’s talking about Merlin, in case you hadn’t noticed.

The problem is that for all the man can ramble on about seemingly anything, at any time, he’s remarkably good at saying absolutely nothing about himself. He claims he’s an open book, but he’s certainly in a language that Arthur doesn’t know how to read.

He does know how to read, just to clarify. That isn’t the issue here.

No, no, the issue is that after months, years, almost a decade of Merlin by his side, watching his back, taking care of him, he’s discovered that there’s a secret that Merlin’s keeping from him. One he never intended to tell Arthur.

And before you panic, no, he’s not talking about Merlin’s magic.

Come on, it’s not like it’s not obvious, the man isn’t exactly good at hiding it. Does he seriously believe Arthur can’t see the tree branches that miraculously pick themselves up and fly at the nearest bandit or the spears that fling themselves at the foe about to behind Gwaine? Or the chores that mysteriously get done too fast for Merlin and far too efficiently? Or the way certain magical ailments seem to vanish mysteriously along with his idiot of a servant only to be greeted with a soft shrug when he pokes?

Merlin’s eyes also turn gold, that’s pretty neat.

So Merlin has magic.

Yes, we know, we had a small tantrum over the fact that he told Lancelot first, but it’s fine. Quite frankly, a lot of things make more sense now.

Except for this. Not this.

Merlin is hiding the secret that he believes he’s a bad person.

Now, Arthur’s not sure if you’ve met Merlin, but the man isn’t exactly the image of the evildoer that springs to mind when someone says ‘bad person.’

The Witch Finder, now there’s a bad person. Storming into Camelot, preying on the fear of the people, bribing and threatening and drugging people, torturing them, and condemning them to death just for the sake of a few coins.

Merlin did storm into Camelot, that is true, but he decided to pick a fight with the crown prince and then save his life. He’s not here for coin—if he were, they wouldn’t have had that small, er, issue about the steward not paying him anything for his work for the past eight years, honestly—and he’s certainly not preying on anyone’s fears. Except perhaps Arthur’s fear of losing his dignity.

The look on his father’s face when Merlin dodged the pillow…

Speaking of his father…there’s another one.

His father did not prey as openly on the people’s fear—or as obviously as Aredian, but prey on them he did. He was a strong king, sometimes too strong. He was a blind king, saw the people as nothing more than subjects, not the living breathing humans they are. He remembers Morgana’s voice, saying that authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not from the threat of force.

He always wanted to see Uther’s face when his ward—when his daughter said that to him.

And what he’s done to Morgana…

Arthur grimaces and shakes his head. Perhaps the very truth that he resents the idea of thinking about what Uther did to Morgana, to him…perhaps that is enough.

Those are bad people. At least to Arthur.

Merlin, on the other hand…

Merlin came into Camelot, knowing that if it was discovered that he has magic, he would be burnt at the stake. He came, not with any aspirations of glory, simply because he trusted his mother when she told him to come to Gaius. He came and he was given a job he never asked for, one he had no idea how to do, and stayed.

Merlin learned. Slowly, perhaps, but he learned. Now he has enough knowledge on what a servant should do to break the rules in the most spectacular fashion. Arthur smiles, biting back the chuckle at seeing George dressed up like Merlin and acting perfectly proper and the urge Arthur had to throw him out of the room.

And that’s not even mentioning what he does when he’s not following Arthur around.

Merlin learned. Merlin stayed.

Not just for Gaius, but for Arthur.

Arthur leans onto his desk, staring out into the courtyard where Merlin is tending to the knights’ horses as they mount up for patrol. He watches Leon step a little closer, lowering his head to mutter something to him, watching Gwaine clap Merlin on the shoulder.

Watches Merlin flinch a little too hard.

Watches Leon’s brow furrow and Gwaine take a step back.

This. This is the problem.

Merlin believes he’s a bad person. Which is wrong, but for some reason, he does.

And because Merlin believes he’s a bad person, he believes that anytime one of the knights touches him—or anyone touches him—it will be to hurt him.

How did they come to this conclusion, you may ask?

Arthur bites back a snarl as he turns away from the window.

It had started with the complements.

Gwaine, to no one’s surprise, was quite fond of flirting with anyone and everyone that would let him, Merlin no exception. Talking about Merlin’s looks, his personality, his work ethic, anything, and everything. Merlin would flush, bright red, ears and all, mumbling to himself.

But then Percival had said something and Merlin pushed him away—well, prodded his arm, no one really moves Percival without Percival letting them—and shook his head. Percival had shrugged but the rest of them had noticed the tension in Merlin’s shoulders.

Then Elyan complemented Merlin’s tracking abilities and Merlin hadn’t even acknowledged it, instead insisting that they keep moving before it got too dark to see and they’d be forced to make camp in the woods. They’d agreed, pressing on, but noting the way that Merlin refused to say so much as thank you.

Leon’s perceptiveness should be considered magical. Seriously, Arthur’s not entirely convinced the man can’t see into people’s heads, what with the information he’s able to produce out of nothing more than the twitch of a finger or the slightest huff of breath. But he sees the way Merlin shies away from any display of affection, even as he gently repeats it, watching Merlin turn his back and get back to work.

Arthur never saw what happened with Lancelot. All he knows is that one night, out in the woods, the two of them had gone off to collect firewood and Merlin had been hiding red-rimmed eyes when he returned, a few paces ahead of Lancelot, not ten minutes later. Arthur had glared but the forlorn confusion on Lancelot’s face had given him pause.

Then it was the touching.

One would expect Merlin to be a quite tactile person, and he is. He’s all shoulder nudges and pokes and prods and gentle shoves to get people to move where he wants them to go. And it’s not like the man has much concept of personal space.

No, some of that is not Arthur’s fault, how dare you?

But when someone else tries it, Merlin tenses reflexively, already moving before their hands make contact. He gives everyone he can a wide berth, scuttling around the outside of rooms until one of them breaks and tells him to come here, Merlin, it’s alright, we won’t hurt you. His face never quite believes them.

The strangest thing is how much of it Merlin makes small adjustments for.

He always wears those god-awful tunics, that he won’t let Arthur replace with fabric that doesn’t feel like it’s a burlap sack, with the sleeves pulled all the way down and those kerchiefs tied around his neck. Arthur’s seen his sleeves rolled up before, but only when Merlin’s working and he hasn’t realized Arthur’s there yet. It’s not like Arthur doesn’t know Merlin has forearms, but Merlin will always jump and guiltily roll his sleeves down.

He doesn’t notice why until he accidentally brushes Merlin’s bare skin once and Merlin all but tears away like he’s been burned.

He doesn’t know why.

Merlin has a secret. The secret is that he believes he’s a bad person. That means he can’t accept compliments and he can’t let them touch him.

This is a problem, because Arthur would very much like for Merlin to believe that he isn’t a bad person.

This is also a problem because Arthur has no idea how to do that.

He looks up when there’s a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

“Sire?” Leon steps through. “May we come in?”

Arthur nods, his eyebrows raising as all of his knights spill into the room.

“Shall I assume you’re on the warpath again?”

“Nah,” Gwaine grumbles, throwing himself into a chair, “know this isn’t your fault.”

Leon shakes his head. “It’s Merlin, sire, we’re…concerned.”

Arthur just sighs and tells them what’s been buzzing around his head for the past…however long it’s been. The knights nod.

“He doesn’t like to be touched when he doesn’t expect it,” Lancelot offers, “but when I ask…he doesn’t seem to want to agree either.”

“But he does,” Gwaine argues, “you’ve seen the way he stares at us when we hug each other, he looks like a poor child that’s never had a hug in his life!”

“Which isn’t true.” Elyan folds his arms. “Gwen’s hugged him.”

“We’ve all hugged him.”

“But he still thinks we’re going to hurt him.”

“Well,” Arthur mutters, “we can’t exactly blame him for being paranoid, can we?”

“If you lot are going to talk about me behind my back like it’s a war council, then yeah, I reserve the right to be paranoid.”

“Merlin!”

“Thank god, where’ve you been?”

“I thought we were meeting by the stables.”

“Did you get hurt?”

Merlin raises his hands and takes a step back. “Whoa, can I get through the door first before the interrogation starts?”

“This isn’t an interrogation,” Arthur says, glaring at the knights, “we’re concerned.”

“Uh-huh,” Merlin mutters, weaving through them to the table so he can set down the thing hooked over his arm, “yes, I’m all too familiar with your concern.”

Arthur frowns. “What does that mean?”

Merlin waves a hand. “Oh, just that it’s a prelude to more chores and things to do.”

Is that…true?

“Yes.”

Did he say that out loud?

“Also yes.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Merlin, we’re not coming up with lists and lists for chores for you to do.”

“Really? With how many you all constantly give me, here I finally thought I’d cracked the code as to why.”

Leon steps forward. “We’re not coming up with things to give you, Merlin, nor are we intending to gossip behind your back.”

“So what are you doing?”

“We’re worried,” Lancelot repeats, “about you.”

“Well, I’m right as rain, no need to worry.”

“Lie.”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he stares at Leon. The knight smiles ruefully and takes another little step forward.

“Lie,” he repeats gently, “you don’t have to lie to us, Merlin.”

Merlin’s mouth thins. “Maybe I don’t want to tell you, then.”

“Why not—“

“No,” Arthur breaks in, causing Merlin to swing his head around again, “no, if Merlin doesn’t want to tell us he doesn’t have to.”

Gwaine looks on the verge of protest, but another look from Lancelot is enough to quell him. He sinks into the chair and tosses an apple to Merlin.

“At least eat something,” he says by way of explanation, “you’ve not eaten anything since lunch.”

Merlin looks very confused—good, now he’s just like the rest of them—but bites into the apple nonetheless. His gaze travels around the room before coming to rest on Leon.

“Why are you all concerned?”

“Because you won’t let us complement you, Merlin,” Leon says softly, “you believe that every time we touch you we intend to hurt you, and you believe that this is deserved because you are a bad person.”

The flabbergasted look on Merlin’s face is almost enough to make Arthur laugh. Almost.

“How…”

“We notice things, Merlin,” Leon says patiently, “we notice you.”

Lancelot snorts. “Good going, mate, you’ll freak him out.”

“Um—there’s nothing worth noticing about me—“

“Not we all know that’s not true,” Gwaine says, and if it had been any other time it would’ve sounded like the next pick-up line at the tavern, “you’re worth noticing, Merlin.”

Merlin’s gaze darts back and forth, finding no disagreement in any faces.

“What—what were you concerned about?”

“Aside from what we just told you?”

“But I don’t—why is that a problem?”

Arthur swallows a curse. “Are you asking why we’re upset that you believe you’re a bad person and you deserve to be treated badly?”

“…yes?”

“Because you’re not a bad person,” Elyan says, “and you don’t deserve to feel like everyone’s about to hurt you.”

Gods, the look of disbelief on Merlin’s face hurts.

“You don’t know that,” he says lowly, setting the apple down, “you don’t know that.”

“Sure we do.” Elyan uncrosses his arms. “We know you, Merlin.”

“I don’t think you do.”

A look passes around the group of knights. Elyan smiles.

“I know that Gwen came home and told me she’d made a friend the first week you arrived in Camelot. I know that you’ve reminded us what family means. I know that you care, Merlin, about your friends, because they’re important to you.”

Merlin blinks in confusion.

“I know you’re a strong man,” Percival says, “and not just because you can lift the packs for the horses without complaining. But you work hard, because you know you can, and so that people don’t have to. You provide what you can because you know what it’s like to have nothing.”

“I—I—“

“I know you’re brave,” Lancelot says softly, standing, “I know you feel the same fear that we all do and you stare it straight in the face.”

He pauses, takes one step closer.

“I know you don’t chase the glory of being brave, but the feeling of being brave and using it.”

“Guys, I—“

“I know what you’ve done.”

Merlin’s face goes pale at Leon’s words.

The knight tilts his head to the side and smiles.

“I’ve been around the longest,” he says in a near whisper, “and I have seen the changes from when you arrived in Camelot until now. I’ve seen the differences, not just in the other men in this room but in Camelot.”

He lays a hand on his chest.

“I know that you’ve made me prouder to serve this kingdom than many others that have tried.”

Poor Merlin is shaking right now, his fingers trembling on the edge of the table. He looks around in confusion, terribly frightened, sending more aches through Arthur’s chest.

“You wouldn’t say that—“ he gasps— “you wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

“That—that I—“ Merlin’s breaths start to ring in the chamber— “I—I—“

“That you have magic?”

Merlin’s head jerks around to stare at Arthur. Arthur raises his hands and takes a step closer. Merlin flinches.

“It’s alright, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “I’m not angry. I’m not going to hurt you. You have magic, though, right?”

“Yes—yes, I—but I’ve only ever used it for—for you Arthur, I—“

“Easy,” he soothes, fighting the urge to reach out and pull him close, “I know. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” Merlin all but whimpers, “it’s not okay, it’s bad, it’s bad and I’m bad, I’m bad—“

“You’re not.”

“I am!”

Merlin yanks his arms to his sides, curling them tightly around himself, much to the protest of the knights. His fingers whiten as he clutches the sides of his tunic.

“I’m bad, bad people get hurt, you don’t—you don’t touch bad people.”

“Merlin,” Arthur breaks in softly, “Merlin, sweetheart, I’m going to come over to you.”

He can hear the quickly stifled gasps and Gwaine’s ‘oh shit’ as he inches towards Merlin. The poor man doesn’t move, but the tremors get worse and worse the closer Arthur gets.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart, do you believe me? That I won’t hurt you?”

“I—I—“

“Because I won’t,” he promises, still fighting the urge to swoop the poor thing into a hug, “I’ll never hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not bad, Merlin, and you certainly don’t deserve to be hurt.”

“You don’t know that,” comes the strangled whisper, “you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“But I know you, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, “and that’s enough.”

He can’t stop the concerned noise at Merlin’s huff of disbelief.

“It’s enough, sweetheart, it’s—hey! Easy, easy,” he soothes as Merlin’s knees buckle and he catches him before he can hit the ground, “I’ve got you, shh, shh, you’re alright.”

“Oh,” Lancelot murmurs as Merlin starts to shiver terribly, “oh, Merlin, you’re touch starved.”

“Touch starved?”

“He’s not been touched for a very long time,” Lancelot murmurs, hustling to join them on the floor, scooping Merlin’s legs into his lap, “and so he’s not used to it, but he needs it.”

“We all need touch?”

“Yes, otherwise our bodies get…unhappy.” Lancelot shakes his head. “I’m sure Gaius could explain it more. The short version is humans aren’t built to hold each other at arm’s length.”

Arthur tightens his grip on the lapful of shaking Merlin he has. There’s a cold nose buried in the crook of his neck, arms looping awkwardly around his shoulders. Distantly, he hears the scufflings of the other knights as they move closer.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart,” he fins himself whispering, “we’ve got you, we won’t hurt you, you’re safe, you’re good, we have you, it’s alright, now…”

Poor Merlin is still shuddering terribly.

“Shh, shh, easy, just try and relax, we have you…”

Since when has Merlin been this cold?

“Oh, I’m definitely hugging you every day,” Gwaine mutters, helping to prop Merlin up away from the table.

“Why—“ Merlin swallows— “why are you all so warm?”

“You’re cold,” Arthur says, “we’re helping.”

“I’m—I’m—what is it? Touch—touch—“

“Touch starved,” Lancelot offers gently, “yes, Merlin.”

“You’re helping?”

Gwaine shifts behind him. “We’re helping.”

“You’re not…mad?”

“No, Merlin, we’re not mad.”

“I’m not bad?”

Arthur tightens his grip. “Never, Merlin.”

“You—I can—I can stay?”

“Yes, Merlin,” comes the chorus of knights, “for as long as you like.”

Arthur is still upset, very confused, and more than a little overprotective right now.

But so is Merlin.

And they’re…they’re starting to figure it out.

One thing’s for sure: Arthur’s definitely pulling Merlin into bed to cuddle with him instead of getting up in the morning.

[newsies-and-the-nutcracker]

Newsies but it’s French (Canadian) pt.2

(aka me just getting increasingly frustrated the longer it goes on until I’ve completely lost whatever bits of sanity I had left lol)

~ king of new york scene ~

“We’re in the papes??” “You’re in the papes.” why do I find this so funny help-

“For the good of Jack, we can stop complaining...” not the whole thing but that sounds so out of character for Race I can’t-

After a quick google search, I can confirm that Race says “The world is at our boots.”

The newsies are very confused

Apparently he was meant to say feet.

“I’m talking about our feet!”

…

hOW IN THE WORLD IS THAT EVEN CLOSE TO ‘THE WOILD IS YA ERSTER’-

Okay I’m done

“My own face on a piece of wood!” good for you ig

“I’m respectful. I’m looking at you.” please-

“I am pretty, am I not?” yes race you’re very pretty

“My own bed and an indoor toilet!” wait… does that mean you literally have a toilet outside?? In the open???

“Nothing more normal for a famous journalist!” Irdk how I’m supposed to process this-

“Leave, idiot! It’s her, the king of New York!” guys is this actually what he says in English?? Race why are you so m e a n

“Some…” *checks notes* “depressive defeatists” ?? I just want to know how you got that from “Buncha wet noodles”-

“We were on the verge of drowning ourselves in alcohol.” WHY AM I ONLY NOW FIGURING OUT WHAT SOME OF THESE LINES MEAN AS I’M WATCHING IT IN F R E N C H ???

They cut out a lot of the background comments during the dance break and now I’m sad

After Katherine’s little dance: “It’s a joke, I hope.” wow

“You’ll see what the Delancey’s do in their pants!” that sounds so wrong I-

“Friends can leave, let them be!” I don’t think that’s what they were trying to say but okay

~ letter from the refuge scene ~

“There’s guards here, they’re mean.” WOW JUST TEAR MY HEART OUT WHY DONTCHA-

“If they tell us to jump, we obey, if not we’re screwed.” ow

“The rooftop misses me.” I give up.

“It’ll go. I’m in shape.”

“End.” the only time they decide not the put ‘the’ unnecessarily in front of something-

“Good, that’s enough.” how rude

yeah that’s all for that song. I hope you guys weren’t actually expecting me to find much humour in that one

~ watch what happens reprise scene ~

“You are a love.” ??

Guys where I live if you say “tant mieux pour vous.” it means “Too bad for you” and that’s literally what Jack just told Davey-

“Stop. I understand. It’s useless.” eh close enough

“Good blood, where do you have to go to avoid you guys?”

“It’s impossible. We are inevitable.” since when did Davey actually become Thanos?

“And this here girl, Sally, she’s great.” :(

“We say that you wrote a good article.” “You seem horrible.” they’re much more salty in this version-

“Yes, it’s true. And, he is dead.” uhh guess who’s not going to Santa Fe-

“We can forget that and go back to work?” the person who wrote this had a real passion for butchering Les’ lines lol

“Be positive. No one is dead.” mmmmmmmmmmm-

“Is that what you’re hoping for??” MMMMMMMMMMMMMM-

“There’s no question of cents, Jack!” yk what? sure. i don’t even care at this point-

“We’ll do what?” he sounds like he doesn’t even want to win.

“We’re already winning.” “Agreed.” ABORT ABORT THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO S A Y JACK-

“And ‘voila’ why I think that Joe is an idiot. It’s a rattlesnake.” “... Yes.” you heard it right here, guys. if it’s a rattlesnek, it’s an idiot

“And you know why a snake whistles?” WHAT

“He is scared.”

“Go see, the poor of the head that’s spinning.” This is shredding whatever bits of sanity I had left-

“Why send the brutes?” idk why Davey

“You have maybe reason!” “Thank you!”

“And I have an appointment!”

no but when you say you have a ‘rendez-vous’ here where I live, it means you have like a doctors appointment or something lol

~ the bottom line reprise scene ~

“After his release, I surprised him myself!”

“If that’s the case, we’re going to bring him in... in softness.” nice of them

“... or the little thief?” I’m really starting to think that they lack like 99% of words in the French language-

“I was fighting in a war.” “And that turned out well for you?” get wrecked joe

“Rally as much as you want, no journal in town will talk about it.” guys I don’t have enough serotonin for this-

“Everyone here knows you’re horrible!” they made Jack sound like a little kid in the translation, and honestly I’m not even disappointed lol

“We’re missing time, little.” I don’t even know what to say-

“Your abject surrender was always the bottom of the problem.” sure why not

“Gentlemen, escort our guest to the cave-” well isn’t he nice?

“Be happy you’re alive, little. That’s the essential.”

“Yeah, so go!” ?? how is that even remotely close to “Yeah, so behave!” ??????

“I exercised my favourite American punch!” uhhhh good for you?

“You can sleep here, on this old press! It’s very firm.” help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up-

~ brooklyn’s here scene ~

“The sellers need our help! The sellers need our help! Tell them that Brooklyn’s arriving! Tell them that Brooklyn’s arriving!”

“We’re from Brooklyn, we’re the sellers from Brooklyn!” UHHHHH EXCUSE ME???

“We just learned that our friends are going wrong!” please you heard they were ‘going wrong’ like five days ago-

“You know we’re there for you, since always.” oH rEaLlY???

“Brooklyn is there!”

“Strikes aren’t nice, but they’re passionate!” well I’m glad you think so

“Let’s shout it, Brooklyn is there!”

“Aaaaand sooooooo!!” “Sooooooooo!!” “Soooooooooo!!!” “We will send you half road, just to Queens!”

“The pigeons are going to get soaked!” aaaaaand we’re back to the pigeons-

“What sad way to finish your career!” they sound so sarcastic I can’t-

“They’re not serious, but if they think we’re laughing…” i feel low-key threatened-

“Let’s shout it!” well if you try hard enough, you can make it sound like “loud and clear!”?

“Manhattan is theeere, Flushing is theeere, “Richmond is theeere, Woodside is theeere, and the Bronx too!!”

“Sorry, little. No news of him.” I just… why does it translate to “little”?

“You are alone, we could say.” “No.” “Yes.”

Medda really isn’t taking no for an answer-

“The sellers of journals of New York!” I’m crying why is it such a mouthful-

“You want to be treated like an adult? Act like an adult!”

~ something to believe in scene ~

“It’s Specs!” wow kath throw specs under the bus like that-

“And if I was a boy you’d be looking at me with a butter black eye!” I’ve officially given up on the French language I’m sorry-

“You win a fight when the other guy bites the dust.” and another one gone and another one gone-

“If there’s a way I could grab hold of something,” has literally been shortened to ‘if I could.’ IF I COULD-

“If I could stop time.” I’m so mad

“Really?” “Really.” ahhHHHHHHHHHHH

“But it’s going. It’s going.”

“... who didn’t even know she gave me a hope.” WHAT EVEN IS THE POINT IF THE TITLE ANYMORE??

“But it’s going. It’s going.” The thrilling sequel

“No. I’m scared of you.” “No!” yeesh-

“I believe in something.” good for you

~ once and for all scene -

“He is with us.” but like… how much?? only 99 percent????

“We could hold a hoedown here.” I feel like the person translating this just gave up by the end of the show-

“Happy to have found you again.” what did you like lose him or something

“The close.” ok yes that’s funny, but it gets even funnier when you realize it could also be translated to “the farm.”

“A little grease, and she’ll be like new.”

“This is for the guys who kill themselves at the factories.” w h a t

‘THE BANNER OF SELLERS OF JOURNALS’ I’m still not over this

~ everything that comes after that ~

“Anyone who doesn’t act in their own self interest is an idiot!” ey watch it-

also what the heck is ‘quiconque’ I swear I’ve never seen that word in my life

“We will find a way, but let’s seize the moment.” first it was “the chance” and now it’s “the moment” google translate are u okay-

They really went and changed ‘bully’ to ‘monster’ didn’t they

“You can make it.” he really makes it sound like Jack is about to die or something-

“It’s disgusting!” you’re disgusting sir

“And the world will know, we’ve been taking notes.”

“It’s a joke!” nope lol

“Goodbye, fool!” I’M LAUGHING WAY TOO HARD ABOUT THIS-

“Well you already work for my father.” “Yes.”

“Super, Jack Kelly!” I CAN’T-

“So, Jack, you’re staying?” yeah sure close enough-

“Sellers of journals on a mission!”

Das it ‘my friends’ lol. Hope you enjoyed.

[rinstars]

Yep, I get where they both are coming from with the confession. Pouring out your feelings for someone is a truly scary thing to do because it puts you in one of the most vulnerable positions you can be. There will always be questions like ‘what if x says no? What if it’s not reciprocated? What if it doesn’t work?’ etc. But the fact that they’re trying SO hard to make it work. To forget the fucking plan and just be together. To have the relationship they wanted but an upgraded version because they found out that they fit each other more that perfect. Tbh I’m not that mad about the final scene because ig Yura went to him cuz he’s a familiar source of solace idk if she’s close to anyone else on the cabin but I don’t think so nor I think she purposely went to him to infuriate yn but I may be wrong lol. What troubles me is that she and Kiyoomi have such a terrible timing for doing things 🥴 ahhhh this was way better than I expected. Personally I think we got the answers we were waiting from Rintarō, you delivered them beyond right. Just marvelous. Thank you Risa, I love you, take care and enjoy this week at its fullest!!!

that's right! everything you said is correct. im glad you understand that even if its frustrating for us, for them it's an incredibly difficult thing :( you're also correct about yura! partly reason yn asked him to stay and the reason why he went along with it despite not wanting to is both because yura had no one. actually, i was about to add something about yn saying, "she has no one else so just stay with her" but that gets cleared up like the very first thing during the next ch so i decided against it 😭 but you're correct! yura's motives we dont know fully or the reason why they broke up but suna staying with her and her running to him should make a lot of sense bc he's the only one familiar enough with her hehehe

thank u sm baby omg im so exhausted i dont even feel like answering asks until tomorrow but i wanted to answer yours hehe ilysm too <3

[niks-minion]

crack request of me right now but... is it bad that i kinda want this top three + deku teamup to fail 😭😭 or at least not go to plan.

like look, i get why the other kids got left behind, since they're neither deku the mc with the op power nor the top heroes with sometimes decades more experience, and the way horikoshi has been scaling their powers it's usually only deku who gets to have the bamf explosion of power moments outside of training (the other kids do help out for sure, but usually it involves careful planning like the put gigantomachia to sleep thing, and generally they're not allowed huge displays of power, so that makes u feel like they can't keep up with deku) but like... it rubs me the wrong way. what we're doing now is grooming deku to be the sole pillar (a concept proven shitty and unstable) while the other kids aren't granted the chance to have all might or whoever pay extra special attention to them. like all might sucks as a teacher tbh. even in 284 he has the other kids take time from their own training regiments to help deku instead of like... making up an exercise that benefits the whole class and deku. he left behind 39+ kids who looked up to him and needed guidance (basically implying they're not worth his time, are not gonna be able to make a difference) at a time when the world around them is falling apart.

and like... i get it, deku is the mc, he's gonna get special attention, he's gonna get the cool powers and the bonus training or whatever. im absolutely not mad about that. i'm also not expecting all the kids to get equal relevance or whatever. you could argue that we've got no time to waste on training the other kids and their feelings. but i can't help but be a bit frustrated that horikoshi created so many cool characters with so much potential only to have it seem like they'll end up sidelined. like it feels atp like the tertiary protagonist is endeavor not shouto.

and ig what im asking for is the other kids rising to the occasion. even if they don't have guidance from the symbol of peace or full support from the top three heroes, even if they don't have the generations passed down power, even if they're not the chosed one, even if they're left out of plans and treated like they're secondary, id like to see them defy expectations. I'd like to see a scenario where the old heroes won't cut it and where the kids take charge to bring about some genuine change in both the world and the hero system. i want to see a scenario where the current plan fails and they need to be bailed out by the kids (+everyone else). i'd like to see the other kids grow out of both a desire to be great heroes and spite lmaoo

like i know this is probably irrational wish fulfillment on my end, and im not a writer so this probably wouldn't make for a cool story to anyone but me, but damn do i want it and damn do i miss the kids.

Ok. Hello my dear anon. Now that’s a long ask.

Ok. Warning. My opinion may be a bit biased, and also more focused on the origin trio than the whole class, bc let’s be honest it was obvious from the start there the main focus would be.

1. Let’s start with the fact that I’m not a Deku hater. Yes I make jokes, yes the sole focus on him makes me bitter bc we all have our favorites and want them to shine, yes I’m dying to see tdbk team up, bite me. That doesn’t mean that me, you or any other person wishing to get smth more is a “die Deku die!” enthusiast.

2. Your opinion is valid and understandable. Honestly, I get it. More so I think that’s gonna be the case bc come on, you can’t tell me that this dream team is gonna just kick a couple of asses, scream “plus ultra” and restore the whole country back to normal. I call bullshit. I’ve heard the guess that it may be a mirror to Katsuki’s kidnapping during the forest arc. (Would be cool bc the whole class could come to the picture and save him, plus Deku realizing he’s not alone etc etc)

3. About Deku being op and others being in his shadow.

Well, yep, as you’ve said- our broccoli boy is the mc, so 🤷🏻‍♀️

But taking jjk for example I don’t feel bitter about Megumi. And in Haikyuu I didn’t feel bitter literally about any character, especially Kageyama, god damn it’s the most satisfying shonen manga for those who has “I usually like mc’s bff/rival more” mindset. (it’s me)

That’s why I’m gonna die in the hill of denial that in bnha at least Bakugou and Todo are not gonna end up eating dirt and be satisfied with the average place somewhere behind Izuku.

Welcome to my praying circle, let’s sit and drink cola/wine while waiting for tumblr to go mad with the frames of other class 1A ( 2a now) kids. Plus Shinsou. Plus shiketsu kids, why the fuck Inasa wasn’t at the war arc, wind throwing villains here and there?!

4. The most irritating thing for me is this.

And this

Again, I totally get it. They need to protect ofa. What’s the better place for it than being sandwiched between top to heroes. And yes you can say the others are just kids and dealing with real life threats is too early for them. Deku simply has no choice. I’m ok with it.

But holy shit, was I disappointed to witness this exact frame...Yeah, yeah, call me Shouto simp, whatever man. But the build up, the “here is my hand, let’s fight together”... it’s only natural for me to to wish Todo was there too. I’m craving for Shouto/Hawks/Enji team up.

About Deku’s arms. Excuse me, but... it had so great drama potential. That he injured his arms and for now is unable to use them to the full capacity or something. I’m a sucker for a good angst so🤷🏻‍♀️ but then it was solved just like that? Ok, what did stop you to order these gauntlets like half a year ago, ha?

Welp, It’s for the reason that our duo is out of the picture. Suspiciously so.

Let’s wait a bit and hope for the best.

[moirasimagines]

standing by | david budd x reader

summary: it’s the night of october 1st, and the reader is expecting a visit from david after an outing with his kids to see their grandmother. feeling nervous, they phone vicky and receive some less than reassuring news.

warnings: canon-typical mentions of su*cide bombing/terrorism and ptsd, lil angsty? but tender i promise, vicky and the reader each have one (1) drink, general concern is to be had about david’s mental state

word count: 2787

a/n: i kinda wanna make this a series? where david and the reader just? are dating so instead of sleeping w/ julia he just... becomes her friend and everything else just... happens the same way ig??? lemme know if anyone’s actually interested in this bc i might write it anyway but it’d be good to know if there’s any actual like... market for it bgjkrtbgkr

David is late. You aren’t angry–– it just seems odd. He’s a very punctual person, normally, and you couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t just text you if something had come up with the kids. He hasn’t answered any of the texts you’ve sent him, and both times you called, his phone went to voicemail. You think about phoning Vicky, then decide against it. You like to think that the two of you are friends. She’s kind to you whenever you see her, anyway, and David has mentioned once or twice that she’s asked about you, remembered that your aunt had been sick and sent well wishes or mentioned a book you’d told her about. You like her. She’s a good mother to her kids, and she treats David with the love and respect he deserves. You’ve never met a pair of exes with such a healthy relationship, and though you know it’s a two way street between herself and David, you’re still impressed with her grace. It’s these feelings that drive you to give her a ring when an hour’s gone by since Dave said he’d be over and you haven’t heard anything.

“Hello?” 

“Hi Vicky, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if Dave––”

“Oh love,” she says, and you notice that her voice wavers as she speaks. Your heart drops. “Everyone’s alright, the kids and him, but…” She sighs. “There was a suicide bomber on their train home.”

“Oh christ,” you murmur, your heart rate picking up.  “But they're okay? The kids? And Dave? Nothing happened, no one got hurt?”

“They’re all fine, yeah. They’re taking a cab home now. Dave said to expect them in at about  half past 10. He…” she takes a deep breath on the other end of the line. “He talked the woman out of it. Nearly got himself killed, but…” For a moment, neither of you says anything. You glance at the clock. It’s 9:45. You have to make a conscious effort to even out your breathing, but you manage it.

“He saved their lives,” you say.

“Yeah,” Vicky manages, but you can tell she’s crying.

“Is there anything I can do for you, hun?” you ask, “Do you want some company?” She sniffles.

“That actually… That would be nice, if you’re offering. And that way you won’t have to wait to see him, or the kids.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, of course. I’ll start over right now. Should be able to get there in twenty. Thank you, Vicky.”

“Yeah, all right. No, it’s…” She pauses. “I mean, thank you, hun.” 

“See you soon.”

You smile as you hang up, but your stomach is still churning. He’s fine, the kids are fine. Everything is fine. Vicky obviously spoke to him, and they’re all on their way home now. But the thought of something happening is too much to bear, and you notice after a moment that your heart is practically pounding. You don’t want to keep Vicky waiting, though, so you toss your phone and keys into your bag and drive over.

She meets you at the door, and to your surprise, throws her arms around you. Relieved, you return the embrace, giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Thank you for coming all this way,” she murmurs against your shoulder.

“Thank you for letting me come by.” Vicky takes a deep breath and pats your back. You both pull away and she nods for you to follow her inside.

“Drink?” she asks, padding into the kitchen. She sounds tired. You trail behind her, realizing slowly that you’ve never really been alone together. Normally you feel a bit like you’re visiting your in-laws or something when David brings you round to Vicky’s. But the house feels smaller now, somehow, more intimate.

“I won’t say no to that.” She offers you a weary but genuine smile and takes a wine glass from the cupboard.

“I’ve got my own in the sitting room, so don’t worry. I’m not trying to liquor you up. White okay?” You let out a laugh at the joke and she shoots you a wry smile.

“Yeah, perfect, thank you.” You both go to sit and wait for David and the kids, finding yourselves on opposite ends of the couch. She sits so that she’s facing you a little, shoulder resting against the cushions.

“So, how’s things with you and Dave?” Vicky asks after a moment. You feel a guilty pang, but it’s clear that she’s really just curious. There’s no malice in her words–– of course, there never is. If anything, you imagine she just wants to fill the time.

“They’re good,” you say, hesitantly. “Thanks. It’s, ah… You know, obviously I love the kids, and––”

“Oh, they adore you,” she replies, smiling despite the anxiety on her brow. Your expression softens.

“Really?”

“Yeah, ‘course. They’re always asking about you.”

“Oh. That’s really sweet,” you say, genuinely a bit surprised. You love Charlie and Ella fiercely, but you’d always assumed they must have felt a bit strange about you. After all, you and David have been together for the better part of a year now. They know you’re dating their dad. You’d always thought it would be a little bit difficult for them–– and who could blame them if it was?

“We all love you, you know,” she says earnestly after a moment. “I’m pleased it’s going well with you two, really, I am.” Spindly fingers reach across the space as she covers your hand with her own, giving you an affectionate jostle. Tears glisten in her eyes, and you feel your chest tighten. “I know it’s probably weird, me saying all this, but…” She shakes her head. “I love Dave, he’s the father of my kids. And all I want is for him to be happy. I think you make each other happy.” You nod slowly, taking her words in, feelings tears slip down your own cheeks as you place your free hand on top of hers and squeeze.

“I think the world of you,” you say once she sits back. “I really want you to know that. You’ve been nothing but kind to me since day one, and––” She waves you off.

“Oh god, don’t give me so much credit,” she says, recovering a bit, “You were the one in the really scary position. Meeting the ex-wife? Please, I would have shat myself.” She lets out a shaky laugh, sniffs, wipes her eyes. “And you were so sweet!”

“Are you kidding?” you reply, halfway between tears and laughter, “If I had to meet my ex’s new partner, I probably would have had a cow.” Vicky laughs at that, and the two of you share an admittedly tearful but warm look.

As you’re wiping your eyes again, a car pulls up outside of the house, and both of your heads snap up at the sound.

“Oh thank god,” Vicky says, and you both hurry out the door. Charlie and Ella come bounding up to her, and just like that, you’re welling up again, seeing the kids reunited with their mother. David follows a few paces behind, and the kids step back from their little group hug as she goes to embrace him.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Ella asks, turning to you. Charlie follows suit, and soon you’re knelt on the ground to give them a hug as well. 

“I was worried about all of you,” you say, “so your Mum asked if I’d like to come see you.”

“That was nice of her,” Charlie says.

“Yeah,” you agree, pulling away to scrub at your eyes, “it was, huh?” They both smile at you, and you glance at David, who’s reassuring an understandably distraught Vicky. It had been easier to curb your emotions when the two of you were talking, but now you can’t help yourself. No sooner have you dried your cheeks than fresh tears roll down them and you look at the kids again, admiring their sweet faces. “I’m very glad to see you both,” you say quietly.

“We’re glad to see you too,” Ella replies. Charlie moves to hug you again, seeing that you’re still crying, and Ella joins him. You squeeze them both as David and Vicky walk over.

“Come on you two,” she says, voice a little calmer, but still tinged with emotion, “it’s past your bedtime.” You let them both go and Vicky offers you a smile, which you return gratefully. They scamper off after her into the house, and you can’t possibly stand up quickly enough. David’s arms are around you in an instant and when you exhale, it feels like you’re deflating into him.

“What are you doing here, love?” he asks gently, a hand coming up to cradle your head.

“I thought you were going to come over tonight,” you murmur, “and when I didn’t hear from you, I got worried, and I called Vicky and she told me about the train, and...” You feel David tense up for a moment, and then sigh.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m sorry, love. I completely forgot.”

“No, it’s all right, Dave, really––”

“No, but you must have felt awful talking to Vic–– and I didn’t even call you.”

“Well, you had quite a lot going on from what I understand,” you say, pulling away to look at him. He looks exhausted, rattled, and upset at himself, no doubt. “I’m not angry,” you insist, “Really, I’m just so relieved you’re all okay.” You lift a hand to his cheek and though he leans into the touch, he looks down, brow creased in frustration. “David,” you say, trying to get him to look at you. “Your kids come first. I know that, I’ve known it since the day we met. It’s one of the many things I love about you.” Finally, he lifts his eyes to yours. They’re bright, you notice, more intense than usual. 

“I would’ve called you first thing in the morning.”

“I know you would have,” you say reassuringly. For a moment, you just look at each other, your thumb brushing across his cheek. “Love, are you all right?” David sniffs, nods. You drop your hand.

“Fine, yeah. I’m…” he takes a deep breath. “I’ll be alright,” he says, but he sounds defeated. You frown slightly, and nod. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you softly, quickly, before pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I’m gonna go help Vic put the kids to bed,” he says, nodding towards the house.

“I’ll drive you home,” you offer. “Yours or mine. Whatever you need.” He nods gratefully and tucks an arm around you. With your arm wound tightly around his waist, his kisses you on the temple and you both head back inside.

You sit back down on the couch and lean your head on your hand as he sheds his jacket and trots upstairs. You don’t even realize that you’re beginning to doze off until the sound of your name rouses you from half-consciousness. David’s face materializes before your own as you blink yourself awake. He smiles softly.

“Hi, you,” he says. You chuckle, and he reaches for your hand to help you up.

Vicky leans against the stairwell and hugs David and you each in turn.

“Don’t be strangers,” she says through a yawn, and the three of you shuffle to the front door. 

“Night, Vic,” David says, stepping outside.

“Night, Dave.” You pause before following him out and take Vicky’s hand.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say. “Really. Get some rest, all right?”

“You too,” she replies softly. “You’re always welcome here, you know.” You nod.

“Thank you. Night, babes.” Vicky smiles.

“G’night.” You turn and step out into the yard, David nodding to Vicky as she shuts the door. He puts his arm around you again and you start down the street towards your car.

“You two seem very cozy,” David says after a moment, almost sounding amused. You chuckle.

“Yeah, I like her. She was really sweet to me tonight.” You slow to a stop as you reach your car and dig in your bag for your keys. “It was nice talking, just me and her, I guess.” David’s smiling when you look up at him.

“Vicky’s good people,” he agrees. “And anyone would have to be out of their mind not to like you.” You can’t help but smile as you shake your head at him and unlock the doors. He climbs into the passenger seat and you go around to the driver’s side.

“Do you want me to take you home, love?” you ask once you’re situated. David looks at you almost sheepishly.

“I’d rather stay at yours, if you’ll have me.” You let out a breath and give him a tired smile.

“Of course I will,” you say, leaning over the console to kiss him. He chases your lips when you pull away, a hand resting on the back of your neck. You kiss him once more and start the car. 

The drive home is comfortably silent, and when you look over, you see that David has closed his eyes, is taking measured breaths. It’s something you’d recommended he do that you’d learned from your own time in therapy, though you’ve yet to convince him to go. It’s better than nothing, though, and while he doesn’t look completely untroubled when you park the car, he seems a bit calmer.

It’s nearly midnight when you finally trudge into your apartment, and David heads straight for your bedroom. You don’t bother to do anything more than take off your makeup in the bathroom before following after him. He’s already in his pyjamas–– he has a decent sized drawer at your place–– and you change unceremoniously into your own. He draws the covers back and climbs into bed and you do the same. You have to lean over him to turn the light out and for a moment, you hover over him in the darkness. You feel protective, like you want to stay poised above him, ready to frighten off any would-be attackers in the night. He shifts beneath you and you drop a kiss to his temple, then another. He exhales slowly.

“What do you need, darling?” you murmur against his skin, “What can I do?” He’s silent for a moment.

“I don’t know,” he admits softly, shaking his head against the pillow. “I dunno.” You nod.

“It’s okay.” You lay down beside him, one arm slung over his waist, face pressed to the back of his neck and your other arm tucked up against yourself. “It’s okay.” For a little while the only sounds in the room are his and your breathing. He reaches for your hand, interlocks his fingers with yours. Minutes go by. You close your eyes but don’t sleep. Then it feels like he’s trembling, and you hear his breath hitch. His grip on your hand tightens. He’s crying. You squeeze his fingers where they curl under your palm, your arm bracing more tightly around his body. The sound is so quiet, only a few gasping breaths every now and again, but you can still hear it rattling out of him. He could have died today. His children could have died today.

You don’t say anything–– there’s nothing to say. All you can do is hold him, and you do. When the shaking subsides a little, you move to cradle his head with your other arm and you stay like that until you’ve both fallen asleep.

In the morning, it’s almost as if nothing happened. David is a little bit quiet while you both eat breakfast, but that’s not terribly unusual. While you sit, he places a hand on your thigh, as if to silently reassure you that he’s fine. With a kiss to your forehead, he gets up to dress for work (there are a few of his suits in your closet), and when you’ve finished your tea you do the same. He has to leave a bit before you do, and you walk with him to the door.

“I’ll call you when I’m done today, all right?” he asks. You nod. “Okay.” His expression changes, becomes softer. “I love you,” he says earnestly, his voice soft. You can’t help but smile, even through your worry.

“I love you too, Dave.” He kisses you gently, a hand on either side of your face, and lingers there longer than he might ordinarily. Your hands find his waist and give a comforting squeeze. He smiles. Part of you wonders if he really is just okay. His expression seems peaceful as he kisses the side of your head again and turns to leave. You can only hope that you’re right.

[itstheelvenjedi]

TW: ableism, bullying, violence, very ranty, some ableist slurs (they’re not written out but they’re mentioned in-context/as I talk about what I’ve experienced over the years, fuck off, don’t be a clown)

I’ve been thinking about this a lot this weekend specifically, had a convo with dad in the car that ended up being sorta a little bit triggering ig that set it off.

No one ever talks about how alienating it is to grow up disabled. I’ve always been disabled, from the moment I was old enough to have memories of anything, my legs have been messed up. And it’s never gotten better, it’s only gotten worse. And even tho I wasn’t officially diagnosed till I was 21, I’ve always been neurodivergent growing up. But I didn’t have that diagnosis, so I grew up thinking that there was something horribly wrong with me. That it was my fault that I was hyper-interested in things that were “unimportant” to other prepubescent children my age and absolutely not interested in the other things (that was also the closet queer showing but that’s not as relevant to this particular talk post so I’m not gonna dwell on it) And no one likes to talk about what it’s like to deal with that. Because the truth is it’s a lot of SHIT.

How everyone’s default, whether abled people or even other disabled people is always “someone has it worse, stop making excuses so you don’t have to do stuff”

As if we enjoy not being able to do these things and it’s not, you know....incredibly dehumanising, upsetting and FRUSTRATING to not be able to do the simplest fucking thing for yourself without help. Cause unless you have money coming out your ass and can pay for any and all adaptations you need then you’re in trouble (I’ve been having these issues with the local ppl for years and I’m sick to death of it)

I KNOW the situation for SSI/SSDI or whatever it’s called in the states is worse and at least we have the NHS here, but that should not invalidate bad experiences that disabled people here have to go through too.

Like the people doing the “disability assessments” being a bunch of able-bodied pencil pushers who will sit there and tell you that “you’re not trying hard enough” to do something that they take for granted which is literally impossible for you and that’s the fucking point of it. Or that they do not seem to understand what the phrase “from birth” fucking means. It means I was born like this and I will DIE like this, jackass. So it’s not going to “need different care in 3 years time so you’ll have to do another assessment”

You know what’s more harmful for us? Having to re-apply with the same motherfucking information every 3 years, when nothing has changed. It’s stressful as fuck, and it’s humiliating as fuck too! I’m sick and tired of being told it’s “necessary” for me to have to basically take an exam every 3 years to “prove I struggle enough with my disability” just so I can get aid to pay for the help that I need to survive.

Trust me, I’d rather be fucking working a “proper” job too, but nobody wants to make allowances for my shortcomings and I’m done with making my pain and injuries worse than they already are just to please fucking ableds. I’m done with being a “volunteer” who’s expected to do part-time hours for no pay while I get verbally abused for “not doing a good enough job” because what I did was the best I’m physically able to fucking give you, Susan, I’m fucking crippled.

And for the most part I think I’m over the early trauma from my school years, but nobody ever talked about, or prepared me for, the physical and verbal abuse I’d endure from my classmates for shit I literally couldn’t control.

I still feel weird calling anybody a “friend” tbh, and it takes me a long time trusting people, because my “friends” during my formative years were just nice to my face so they could then get “more material” to take to the rest of the school so they could mock me and call me slurs (like the r word, the s word, and “weirdo” and “fucking freak”, and “the one who runs like an s-word horse”)

Or how I had to literally be taken out of PE/Gym lessons for my own fucking protection because the team that “lost” because they got “stuck with the fucking s word/r word freak” (me) lost, and I’d get the shit beaten out of me for....not being able bodied ig?? I’m sorry it’s so problematic for you, ableds. I hate it too.

I hate that I spent so much of my childhood with internalised ableism where I’d either feel like I shouldn’t exist at all, or I’d wish “my disability was worse and I’d be in a wheelchair, because then at least people would take me seriously and not hurt me as much”.

And I hate how nobody, but ESPECIALLY abled people, wants to acknowledge this shit. How the first response to disabled and disabled + ND people talking about the impact their symptoms have on their life is

“well someone else has it worse” or “well it’s not ACTUALLY that bad”

tw: capslock and cussing

_________________________________________________________

BITCH. HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW, YOU’RE ABLE-BODIED, YOU’VE NEVER HAD TO WORRY ABOUT THIS SHIT A DAY IN YOUR FUCKING LIFE!!! YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT HOW MUCH PAIN I’M IN 24/7 AND HOW IT ENTIRELY AFFECTS MY DAY-TO-DAY LIFE AND ABILITY TO DO SIMPLE THINGS LIKE FUCKING EAT, BATHE, EXERCISE, DRIVE  AND EVEN SOCIALISE ETC. YOU DON’T. KNOW. SHIT.

_________________________________________________________

end of capslock

And the fact that my own dad is doing that shit, and gets arsey about it when I call him out on it, was very upsetting.

“It’s not your disability actually it’s the neurodivergence and if you just learnt to mask better you’d cope more”

as if my ND status has anything to do with my physical disability which causes me constant pain, even ON pain meds.

The pain meds don’t take the pain away,  motherfucker, they just tamp it down to a level where it’s (most of the time) “managable” and I can still attempt to do things in spite of the pain. But it still takes effort, a lot of effort, way more effort than you, an able-bodied person, have to put into doing the same thing.

The best that I can give as a disabled person is never “good enough”, because abled people will always assume that because they can do something easily/without thinking about it, that anyone else can and anyone who says they can’t is just LAZY, or STUPID or BOTH

I could probably honestly go on and on about this a lot more but I’d be talking mostly in circles at this point so I’m gonna stop myself here.

OK to RB, other disabled people feel free to add to this. Ableds CAN (and are encouraged) to reblog too but KEEP YOUR FUCKING PIEHOLES CLOSED. Thank u

[1989xtaylorsversion]

tana mongeau should not be influencing anyone.

the term “influencer” has been tossed around frivolously for years, and often it’s for people who don’t deserve it. i cringe everytime i call someone an influencer, or worse when they call themselves one. look, i get it. it’s a lot easier to say you’re an influencer than to explain why your mediocre 15 second dance videos on tiktok gave you millions of followers. however, as social media influence grows and more people are dropping out of school or not going at all, in order to pursue the celebrity lifestyle, the list of influencers has expanded. it’s transcended just YouTube, and now you have tiktok stars and instagram models. when you really look at how many people are reaping the benefits of being an influencer, you start to wonder, who actually deserves to wear that title proudly, and who, for lack of a better word, just sucks. one person i believe falls under the latter is miss tana mongeau.

TANA MONGEAU: THE INTRO

tana mongeau is a 22 year old YouTuber who sort of hit mainstream success a few years ago. there’s a chance you’ve heard of her, even if you’re not a regular subscriber, and i wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. i’ll be straight up and admit that i do not like her, and i’ve felt this way for a long time. i wish i could sit here and write about all the amazing things she’s done to help the world and use her influence for good, but i can’t because it’s simply not true. she’s been famous for years now, and her legacy isn’t made up of positivity, but rather scandals and immaturity. i don’t think tana is an evil mastermind, but i don’t think she is a good person. i think she’s incredibly disrespectful and has got a lot of growing up to do.

 TANA DOESN’T DESERVE HER PLATFORM

tana has a pattern of behavior that we’ve all become accustomed to, meaning she’ll mess up, take forever to issue a half-hearted apology, emphasize the point that she’s learned, grown, and bettered herself, and then go back to business as usual. she likes to harp on the fact that she’s only human, and she makes mistakes. while that is true, not all humans make the same mistakes. tana reminds me a lot of serena van der woodsen from gossip girl. they both claim that with each scandal they come out on the other side a better person, but they don’t. they claim to change, but they don’t. when you make the same mistakes over and over again, you’re not a changed person, you’re simply the same. that’s one of my biggest gripes with tana, because if she actually cared enough, she could self reflect and really learn. but she doesn’t. it smacks of disrespect and immaturity. she makes a lot of bold claims in her apology videos (and she’s got a lot), about how she grew, but where is the growth?? i haven't seen it, have you?

this brings me to my original point, which is why tana doesn’t deserve a platform. i don’t want to write about every horrible thing she’s done in great detail because it’s been done many times, but i’ll briefly mention certain things i believe to be important.

first and foremost, she has an extensive racist past that seems to make a comeback every year. it seems to be an annual tradition for tana to have some racist video, tweet, or remark come back to her present life. her past quite literally catches up to her, and she’s had to apologize for it at least three times (i’ve kind of lost track). it’s ridiculous and problematic, but anyone with a modicum of intelligence can understand that. her recent apology video - which was likely scripted- is a slap in the face to everyone she’s hurt and offended because it took her months to make it, and she couldn’t even be bothered to sift through the blatant contradictions she spewed.

speaking of her apology video, another reason why she was under intense criticism during that time was because she was partying throughout the pandemic. i know, i couldn’t believe it either. or maybe i could because tana is one of the most disrespectful people i’ve ever seen. she partied for months throughout the pandemic in the beginning, and still hangs around large groups of people. newsflash miss mongeau, for some reason children watch you and vociferously defend you online because they’re under your influence. a blue check mark doesn't exempt you from the coronavirus. if you had stayed home and not made yourself look like a clown who doesn’t care about the health of others, maybe you wouldn’t have had to issue your tenth apology. it’s so frustrating watching her act like this knowing she has so much influence and instead of using it for good, she goes out and does this.

my problem with influencers is the fact that they like to pick and choose when they want to be one. when they’re getting positive feedback, fame, and money, they love it. they love having an influence over millions of people, and flexing their success. but, when it comes time to actually do something good for the world, and tweet out some petitions, informational posts, or stand up for the right thing or issue proper apologies for when they inevitably screw up, suddenly they never asked to be an influencer. that’s when they decide that they didn’t ask for that kind of life, so we should just cut them some slack. another newsflash, it doesn’t matter if you asked for it. a lot of people don’t, but a lot of people also realize that they’re in a privileged position to use their power for good, and take on that responsibility. that’s why influencers drive me crazy. they have hundreds of thousands or millions of followers, and they don’t use it for anything other than selfies. 

in my last post i talked about emma macdonald, and i’ll bring her up again, because she’s guilty of doing this as well. she posted about blm once over the summer, and then never again. i understand some people don’t want to bring up politics in everything, but you don’t have to post. a simple ig story would’ve been fine, and still spread the information. she’s just one example out of hundreds, but you get the point. whether you have 200k followers or 2 million, you still have an audience, and people follow you because they like and trust you, which gives you power. so much has happened in this country since may, and so many influencers have stayed silent. if you’re not going to use your huge platform for something meaningful, why do you even have one? it just smacks of performative activism, and it’s not a cute look. 

if you don’t want to be an influencer with loyal fans, and you don’t want the pressure of being a somewhat good example, then don’t expect people to care when you release a trashy single, have an mtv reality show, or when you hold a convention in the name of revenge. yeah, i’m looking at you tana, those are all things you’ve done because you’re an influencer with followers and money.

 OVERALL THOUGHTS

i realize i’m probably ranting, but that’s what people like tana will do to you. she has so much potential, and admittedly, she’s had her good moments. her open conversations about mental health and her rough upbringing is interesting to hear about, and i’m sure it helps people feel less alone. i actually like hearing about her early life because her need for an escape away from her toxic family was the reason she started her channel. those are the relatable moments that attracts people and makes her seem human, not her racist past from when she was 15. i wish she’d actually take time away from being so problematic and seriously self reflect and grow. she’s not getting younger, and her maturity level isn’t catching up with her. the older she gets, the more she acts like a child, and it’s frustrating.

unless she does some serious introspection and betters herself, maybe we should consider leaving tana in 2020.

overall rating:

2/5

[closer-stars]

Purple Skies, Pained Things

Member: Jongho Word Count: ~5k Requested: No Genre: Angst. A lot of Heavy things. A little hope in the end. Content: Allusions to depression, suicide ideation, low self worth, a bit of existentialism. This really is just a product of my own thoughts and dips. This kind of came to me while i was listening to christian yu’s album and his ig live that explained his creative process and decisions into making MITO. In a sense this is my mito? lol. I don’t know why I had Jongho in this too but it happened. I kind of compared my struggle with mental health to paintings and skies, colors and the like. So Yes. If this is a little weird, I apologize. It was a little tricky to write this since I had to be in a certain mood/headspace to write this. lol.  Note: This is heavy. If you can’t stomach something regarding mental struggles, issues, I suggest you don’t read this.  This went in directions I didn’t think it would go but it went where it went. Like Strength, I won’t put the atzff tags on this since this is a personal piece lmao. I won’t do my usual tag list on this since..well it’s personal? if you see it when it’s up, cool. if you don’t well.. you don’t lol. Gut Feeling and other reqs are in the works! Just gonna take Time. Jongho wonders how you manage on your own. Well he knows you’re independent, always treasuring your alone time whenever you can. But he’s not sure of how you manage when you have these dips. He’s actually not sure if that’s the right question, should he ask why instead? Why do you make yourself go through it on your own? Of course, he has his guesses regarding the reasons but it still runs in his mind.

He watches you from across the room, sitting near a corner. To anyone else, it would look like you were just watching the skyline; watching the sky turn from a bright blue to a myriad of colors before settling into a deep blue sprinkled with stars and bright lights. The sky was always pretty at this hour.

The complete opposite of your mind. 

The two of you knew better when you looked like that; you weren’t looking at anything. Your eyes aren’t focused on anything but your mind is. Your mind focuses on thoughts that make you spiral down. When your head spirals, you close yourself from everyone. Your mind is like the night sky: it can bring comfort and solace in a time of quiet but it is also dark and vast, seemingly never ending. The night sky can also bring the terrors of the unknown, the unseen, the lack of control that the day brings. Your mind now is just that without the comfort the night brings, but the numbing fear of what’s beyond. 

You feel like a tiny speck of dust. that doesn’t really have much use in a world that keeps moving. Maybe a better comparison would be something like a stormy sky; filled with heavy clouds that would spill forth heavy rain showers. The sudden sheets of water makes everyone hide away. Or rather, a sky tinged with the smoke from pollution; unbearable and frustrating. Just like what you’re doing right now, hiding away from everyone because you think that these days you have will bring nothing but frustration to those near you. 

So, what is Jongho doing in your apartment? He had his reasons. For starters, it’s been radio silence from your end.  He knows nothing of what has happened to you. Neither do your friends-- well to a degree, they don’t. It’s why he’s here, to check on you. He figured you’d be at home. He knows you well enough, just like how he can tell if the weather will be fine just by a glance at the sky. From what he’s seeing, it’s the calm before the storm.

He knows you don’t sleep much either, or rather, you stay up late into the night only to sleep when the sun’s peeking through the horizon. The deep blues slowly turning into a soft lilacs and blues streaked with bright yellows that bring the safety of a new day: a peaceful slumber. You told him in the past that you’re really just a night owl, a habit formed to cope with the hectic pace of life. A way for you to have some sort of grip on your life. He bought the words for a while, but the more he spends time with you. He’s not quite sure. He doesn’t understand why you shut yourself out from everyone when you need them the most. He does understand how hard it can be to ask for help. Carefully, he approaches your unmoving figure.

“Hey.” He murmurs, settling quietly in front of you. Your eyes flutter to his direction. You see him but the fact he’s sitting in front of you isn’t registering in your head. Maybe your mind’s playing tricks on you, your vivid imagination was always one of your assets. It could also be your downfall. 

“Go away..” your voice comes out like a sigh. Just as your mind is like the sky, your mind is just as vivid as paintings of years past. But, just like those paintings, it fades, it gets discolored as time passes by. Small cracks appear on layers of painting, no matter how much protection and preservation you put it through: the wear and tear can and will be inevitable. You assume this is just another way for your mind to make you think worse of yourself. Thoughts reflecting itself onto reality. Whatever reality is supposed to be.  With that, you look away from the figure in front of you, staring out the window. The sky has shifted into a deep purple, the lights from the neighboring buildings are flickering on, one by one. The purples gradually turning into artificial shades of yellow and white. 

He should’ve expected that, being alone with your own thoughts can get tiring. Even if you preferred your own company, these dips can take a toll on you. Slowly, he takes your hand in his. Something flashes in your eyes, dimmed only by the darkening sky above the two of you. “What are you doing here?” You ask. He notices how dry your voice sounds. How long has it been since you drank water? 

He has a feeling rain will come tonight. 

The sound of consciousness from you makes him quirk the corner of his lips in relief. “I wanted to check on you.” 

A sigh slips out of your lips, your eyes fluttering to a close. Your eyes feel dry. You don’t pull away your hand from his hold. You stay like that, unmoving in your spot, and for a moment you look peaceful, but the impending approach of a storm is warned through the marks under your eyes. Jongho wonders how you’ve been sleeping the past few days. He looks at the time. By now, you should be eating.

“Hey, you need to get some food in you.” Jongho gently reminds you, his voice mirrored by how he squeezes your hand to wake you up. 

“I don’t have an appetite…” You reason, despite your excuse you slowly move from your spot.

“At least get something in your stomach? Even some fruits will do.” Jongho returns. “Come, I can make you some food.” He lets you settle down on the chair. You let him move around your place, he’s been here so many times that he might as well have lived with you. 

“Have you eaten?” You speak up softly, watching him with heavy eyes. This really doesn’t surprise him anymore, how you’re able to put others before you, even when you can barely do so for yourself. 

It takes a while for him to reply to the question. If he gives a clear cut answer, it can make your attention shift to him when the main subject here is you. He runs a few strawberries and an orange through water. “I’ll eat with you.” He returns after a moment of thought. 

You shrug even if he can’t see you do so. “Help yourself to whatever I have I guess.” So that’s how the night goes, he eats a meal while you nibble on a few fruit slices that he had freely drizzled with honey. It was quiet as the two of you ate. He doesn’t push you to talk about what’s on your mind, not because he didn’t care but he knows you hate it when people push you to tell them your thoughts, no matter how depressing they can get, you hated being forced. Even if you don’t want him to be here, you have no energy to tell him to leave. 

You prod a half eaten strawberry with your fork. Even in the mess of your mind, you wanted to know why he’s doing this. He’s seeing a side of you that you’ve tried so hard to hide from him. As much as you want to cover this from him, it seems too late. Your body can’t get itself to stand up and push him out. What happens instead is a question. “Why are you doing this? You can literally do anything else right now, but you’re here wasting time.” 

Jongho stays quiet through your tirade of self deprecating comments. On your normal days, these were covered with your dry humor. You always had a knack at being able to throw a few witty comments at the boys and at yourself. Now, he’s seeing it in its rawest form. He doesn’t like how this is how you see yourself: a shame, wasted potential, lost, the list goes on as you talk. What was once a question becomes an exhausted rant of how you find yourself in this fast paced life. At one point, you ask yourself if the choices you made were the right ones. All your decisions have been based on trying to break out of the chains of expectations. You wanted freedom, to explore the world as yourself.

Now, you didn’t really have a proper avenue to release these thoughts nowadays; you can’t really go out. Your usual coping mechanisms aren’t an option now. You’re just stuck at home. Compared to your peers, they’re able to make the most out of the situation. Those who made your life horrible are prospering now. Those who followed what was expected of them are doing well. You? Hell if you know what to make of yourself now. 

He would’ve rebutted all these points you’ve raised but he figures that you need to let them out before letting anyone or yourself fix the issues. You’ve always been like that, thinking out loud until you somehow manage to find a solution. That’s why he just listens, replying when needed but letting you know that he’s giving you his full attention. What he didn't expect was a rumbling thunder.

The storm comes earlier than expected. The two of you can hear the downpour outside your apartment. When you notice the heavy downpour, you shift the topic. “You really don’t need to listen to all of that.” You say as you eat your fruits. It’s a little tricky to try and put your upbeat voice back to use after days of being shut in. 

Being able to air out your frustrations should make you feel lighter, but it doesn’t. What it just does to you is feel heavier, fearing that he’ll look at you in a not so nice light because of how different you are now. 

That’s how it usually goes. 

His meal is long done now but he stays in his seat. “It’s okay.” He says. Those two words make you look at him. “You’ve carried it for so long to yourself. I don’t mind helping you...” He continues. He notices how your eyes sparkle a little brighter under the warm lights in your home. It’s not the curious sparkle that the stars bring on a clear night. It’s a sparkle that carries the burden of a pain that’s been carried for years. A star that’s just near the edge of falling through the sky. Your coping mechanisms were really just there to numb the pain, never to address it, you never knew how to address it until recently. Even then, the process was painful. “Have you showered?” He asks you. At his question, you realize you haven’t. “Go shower? I can take care of these dishes.” 

There’s something in his words that pushes you to say something. “Can you stay a little longer?” You’re scared of what could be next, him leaving you alone in your thoughts again. You’ve tried to hide your dips from him, but now that he’s seen it, you doubt there’s any turning back now. You just don’t want to be alone, for tonight at least.

“I’ll stay.” 

You ease yourself against the downpour of the hot water. It’s a little shock for your body: the cool air outside the shower against the hot water on your skin. Eventually you relax into it, breathing slowly as you hope that the water washes away the thoughts in your head. The constant sound of water hitting the tiled floor and the sight of water running down your body or dripping down the walls numb your mind from dimming your thoughts. The feeling puts you in a trance of sorts, standing under the shower head unmoving for who knows how long. 

“Hey, are you still there?” Jongho’s voice comes from the opposite side of the door. The knocking snaps you awake and you clear your voice, grabbing the soap. 

“Yeah, I’m doing fine.” You swear it’s not a lie. You try to make it sound not like a lie despite your racing heart. You stand there as you wash yourself up quickly. You didn’t want him to worry about you. Do you really deserve these worries? Clearly, he has other things to worry about. Why did you ask him to stay longer? He has a life beyond you, so why linger here? What if you’re just hindering him from his schedule and free time with your selfish need for company? These thoughts rise up to the surface as you dry yourself up. He can leave if he has to, you’re not gonna stop him. 

You step out of your bathroom in a change of clothes, water dripping from your hair onto the towel on your shoulders. You catch your reflection on the mirror; you’ve lost weight, you look tired, your skin hasn’t been at its best, and before your thoughts spiral you tear your gaze away from the reflective reality on your wall.

The place is quiet. A quiet sigh leaves your lips, of course you’re back on your own. What were you thinking? You’ve managed to deal with these episodes on your own, what makes this any different? What were you hoping for exactly? 

“Oh hey, you’re finally out of the shower.” His voice makes you jump in your spot, holding yourself up against the wall as you try to slow down your racing heart. He observes your shocked visage with slight guilt. He notes how raw your skin looks, wondering just how hot you made your water to be. It’s not much but it’s something. These episodes were never as quick as a simple shower. It’ll take time and he’s willing to sit through it with you. Just like the paintings on your walls, those took time to be properly cared for, before its original luster shined through. 

“If you have to go elsewhere, it’s okay.” You speak up, your voice is a little clearer now. “I forgot how busy you get…” You trail off, berating yourself for being so selfish. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He says afterwards. “I made sure my schedule was free.” He adds, he approaches you carefully, taking the towel off your shoulders. He lets you follow him to the couch. 

You look at him, shoulders dropping as more things blur your mind. Why was he doing this? “Why?” There’s something in your voice that reminds him he can’t leave you like this. You follow him like a lost puppy, too tired to think anymore. The sky looks a lot dimmer now, the still constant downpour of rain dimming the bright lights from the streets. 

“I want to check on you.”  He sits behind you, drying your hair as he lets you look out the sky. It’s the one thing you would do even in your better days. He’s gotten the habit of thinking of you because of the sky. 

It’s the blank look on your face that hurts him too. It’s a look that tries to survive and prove itself worthy of independence. It’s a look that reminds him of artworks that look so breathtaking until you learn of the backstory behind the work. How many people have bought this as you just shooting a deadpan look, as if you didn’t need anyone else? “I’m sorry.” A tired sigh escapes you as you turn your head away from his gaze. You were about to reach for the towel that has slowed down from drying your hair, when Jongho taps your hands gently. 

“Drying your hair’s my thing.” He reminds you, a distant inside joke from years past. 

The reference makes you smile a little but it doesn’t bring you the comfort you badly need. The pain teeters just at the corners of your eyes and you wonder why your vision blurs, mixing the purples with the yellows, with the whites. The greys have hints of purples and yellows. Everything looked so blurry yet so clear. It’s an unflattering color, it’s rare that you look away from the sky. 

It’s when you feel two drops of water against your arm that it clicks. You didn’t want him to see you in tears. How easy it was for him to look past your facade. You’ve put up enough walls, saying it was just you being used to being an only child who could only depend on yourself at the end of the day. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve said lies to stop people from getting too close to you at your weakest. How many times has life tried to take advantage of it?

“Come here.” His voice takes on a tenderness rarely heard from him. It takes a few small shifts from you before you face him. You want to tell him that you’re fine, that it’s not a lie. You’re genuinely doing fine, you want to tell yourself that. But the truth is, you aren’t. Admitting the truth has always been nerve wracking for you. Especially the truth that you carry in your head and heart.  There, his arms wrap around you carefully, knowing that at any moment you’ll break. “I care about you, that’s why I do this.” He lets you babble words against his shoulder, truthfully, he couldn’t make sense of the words that tumble out of your lips mostly due to the towel that muffles you and because of how they’re all slurred by your overwhelming emotions and tears. He lets you spill everything though. It could help you once you storm through this downpour, he thinks. 

On the other hand, you hate how weak you’ve become, your hands grip to him as if he’s some sort of protection from the darkness that swirls in your head. There’s no shade of purple that can mimic how terrifying the darkness is in your head. Not even pictures can give it justice. It just is. 

You don’t like how you’ve become, yet you have no heart to end everything. It’s why you had a terrible phobia of high places. Imagination can only bring you so much but reality was still terrifying in its own right. Life was practically in limbo: wanting escape but not doing it, wanting something better but not being able to acquire it. You see your own life like an unfinished painting, all scribbles, patches of paint but never quite forming an image or a sky that always warns of a storm that never comes. 

He feels guilty to have left you alone to deal with this burden in the past but he tries not to dwell in it as he lets you cry. “Do you want to go to bed?” He whispers softly into your hair. You shake your head, not trusting how your voice could shake should you speak up.  Receiving nothing but a timid nod, he carefully pulls his arms away from your figure, it’s then that he realizes that you covered your face with your towel. The damp feeling on his skin and shirt were from your hair. Even in your current state, you still find shame in showing your own tears. 

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he guides you towards your bed. Now that the two of you are settled down, he made sure that you’re in his arms again. He tries not to force you to look at him. Being at your weakest in front of someone was already a draining experience in itself, but to be in a situation where it’s not being shamed or pushed away was a new experience for you. He hears words come from your covered face and he keeps quiet to strain his ears to understand what you were saying. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

Two words, repeated over and over. He looks at your curled figure, how your arm strains to keep itself from shaking as your fingers press against where your eyes are to stop the tears. This hasn’t been your lowest, but it is one of your lowest moments. He shushes you gently, as if consoling a lost animal shivering under the rain. “I got you. It’s okay.” Admittedly, he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know what else to do except hold you through this. He’ll hold you through the storms and the darkness.  Until you come to surface, he’ll hold you through it. No matter how long it takes, he’ll be here.

You wake up with your blanket up to your shoulders. You try to remember what happened yesterday as you lie awake. What time is it? What day is it? Your thick curtains hinder the sunlight from blinding you. When you blink, you feel how dry and sore your eyes are which only further your confusion of what happened yesterday.Your hand pats one side of your bed: your phone isn’t there. You pat the other side: that’s not a phone. That’s a chest, it’s only then that you realize that’s another person next to you that you realize the weight of an arm on your waist. A spark of fear runs through you, unaware of who could be here, so you look over to your side with caution. 

Jongho.

He lies asleep next to you. You wonder what he’s doing here but you have no heart to wake this guy up. Everything’s still murky to you. Quite frankly, you don’t really know how much time has passed. All you know now is day and night. Things still feel floaty, like you’re on a cloud but you shouldn’t be there. The thought alone makes your hands clammy. It makes your chest tighten with thoughts you can’t control, that your hands repeatedly clench and unclench as you try to fight to control your head from going under. 

A hand slowly laces with yours and you look over at the owner. He’s awake, sleep still weighing down his eyes but he’s awake. “I got you.” He says, voice raspy with slumber that still clings to his mind and it rings you of the previous day’s happening. A shiver of horror goes through you. He shouldn’t have seen you like that. Nobody should’ve seen you like that. 

“I thought you would’ve gone home.” You say as you push yourself up from bed, pulling your hand away. You run your hands through your bed riddled hair, a poor excuse to keep him from holding your hands again. It’s not that you don’t like it, it’s just, you’re scared. He’s seen your worst, and you fear for the worst result.

His now free hand rests beneath his bed riddled hair. He’s never been one to push your boundaries. “I don’t think I can go home knowing how you needed someone last night.” He says this without any of his dry nature. “I can’t go home with a peaceful mind until I know you’re alright..” He trails off, because as much as he wants to stay with you for the next few days. He doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries. You never responded nicely to people who pushed your limits more than they should.

“You didn’t have to..”

“But I wanted to.” He says immediately. Mornings were never his best time either. He looks up at you, no remnants of sleep are on his eyes. Rather, his soft protective nature is there. “We worry for you too. At least, let me care for you the way you’ve cared for me?” He asks. Once he pulls the repayment card, you relent. It’s a small step but it’s a step.  

Silence draws over the two of you for a few moments. His words float around your mind. ‘I wanted to… let me care for you…’ It’s an odd feeling to have someone care for you. His words make you wonder if people will worry if you did disappear without a trace. 

Jongho reaches for his phone beneath your pillow to check the time. It’s already noon time. “Do you wanna eat? I can make some food for us or we can just order something.” 

The power to choose was a heavy responsibility for you. You still weren’t in the mental capacity to choose for yourself but you had enough strength to let Jongho stay for the time being. He notices how you’re still not quite here yet, so he opts to cook something up. He knows your favorites but he can only hope you have enough appetite to eat something.

You peek past your curtains. The sky’s clear now. There’s not a cloud in sight, just a vast expanse of bright blue and sunlight. The streaks of sunlight slip past you and into your room, lighting up the rather dim room.  “Why are you doing this? I can survive on my own eventually.” You ask from your side of the bed. 

Jongho was already out of bed, making himself look presentable or at least awake. “Yeah eventually, but you don’t have to do this on your own.” He returns. He tries not to look over at you too often when he spouts words like this. You never were the type to look at someone when you say something vulnerable. But he sees how you look from the mirror: looking at your hands, mindlessly scratching at your fingers. “Go freshen up while I make up something to eat.”

You didn’t know how to say it, now with some semblance of control in you as compared to the night before. You just knew how scared you were of wasting yourself away, no matter how tempting it was to press Stop on your own life, it was scary. You were scared he’d leave you too after this. Not everyone has the capacity to care for someone like you, you didn’t even have the resources for professional help. Yet, Jongho’s here in your home. Things didn’t make sense and you weren’t really sure of how to make sense of it all. Will he stay with you through it all?

“I will.” Jongho’s voice cuts through your stormy eyes. They spark a little brighter at his voice, only to darken a little in confusion. He watches you for a moment as the gears in your head work. That’s when you realize you were thinking out loud. “I don’t know what lies ahead of you.” He starts, turning to face you but leaning against the dresser. “I do know that you have what it takes to get through this. It’s going to take a lot of time but you’ll get there.” He flashes a small smile, rare were the times that he’s this raw with you or anyone. “We’ll make do with what we got.” He ends it there before heading to the kitchen. 

You slip out of your bed, slightly light headed from the lack of food in your system. Shit, okay maybe you need to get some food in you. You look through your closet for something to wear, noticing the laundry you need to do in the process. 

Once you got out of the shower, you’re greeted by the smell of-- were those pancakes? You approach the kitchen, confused but also a little excited to have something in your stomach. You didn’t expect that he’d make your comfort food: pancakes with blueberries. He lets himself indulge as well with some pork belly. Go figure. He even got your cold brew out of the refrigerator with his ever loyal iced americano. “You made all of these?” You ask. 

He looks over at you, surprised to have you out of the shower already. In that instance, he takes the chance to look at you closely: the heavy shoulders weren’t as apparent as they were last night, there’s a little spark in your eyes too. “Yeah.” He simply says before returning his attention to the still cooking pancake. 

It’s only then that you think of preparing the table as the two of you wait for the food to cook. 

You eat slowly and carefully. The splash of flavor reminds you of how hungry you are but you remind yourself to not rush. It’s been so long since you ate properly after all. When he sees you drink your coffee, he feels a little relief. Baby steps. It’s small talk for the rest of the meal, just Jongho filling you in on what he’s been up to: the acting, the performing, the competing. It’s all tiring, but he doesn’t mind. Last night was exhausting for you so you didn’t really mind him carrying the conversation for once. 

By the time you ate two pieces of the pancakes, you had a little bit of vigor in you though still muted by the hangover that crying gives you. That’s when you came clean with your own thoughts, though still pessimistic and anxious in its roots, it was a little more coherent than last night. If he looked a little closer into the words you say, you left room for a little hope, a little objectivity. Objectivity, in his eyes, was harder to rebut, to be fought against by the small voice in your head that says otherwise. Still, he listens. He listens to everything that you’ve been keeping to yourself with no judgement. He finds it hard to believe how you’ve been able to keep all these to yourself but at the same time, this is you who he’s talking to. 

But you’re sharing the worries now, and that’s what matters. There’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. No malice and pain in it but something else. Something a little softer. 

Seeing you like this reassured him. You were at your lowest last night and seeing you slowly crawl out of it gives him relief.  He can only do so much to help you, to reassure you, to get you to where you were meant to be in life. It really is just one small step after one small step even after tripping, as long as you take a step afterwards, that’s all that matters. 

He glances outside your window, the sky still continues to be bright without a cloud hindering the sunlight. Truthfully, he doesn’t know if the next few days will continue to be on a good note but what matters is now. Just like a painting that has gone through so much damage, it’s still possible to bring it back to its original luster. It will take time and effort from not just one person but it’s possible. 

As long as you’re able to walk at your own pace, he’ll be with you.

[disabled-queen-hc-blog]

roger is self conscious about having a stutter and the more frustrated he gets with it, the worst his stutter is to the point where he sometimes just shut down if he can’t manage to get the words out; it’s hard but over the years the band has learnt how to comfort him and to gradually adapt to his needs

“And I’ll need b..b..b-etter skins if they expect me to drum s...s-ix days in a row,” Roger said as he folded his arms with a huff, clearly pissed off at management. Sure, they were an up and coming band. Yes, they needed as much exposure as possible. But what their manager had just tossed at them seemed more like a punishment than an opportunity. 

Freddie frowned, shaking his head as he looked at their schedule, a hand rubbing on his neck as he feared for the safety of his vocal chords. “It’s not pretty lads, but there’s really no choice, is there?” he said, hesitation in his voice.

Brian and John just mumbled, not really any room for complaining for them, as they exerted the least amount of energy during gigs. Roger on the other hand wouldn’t go down to easily, not wanting to think about what six days of drumming would do to his arms.

“What do you m..m..m...m-ean we don’t have a choice? We could’ve hired a jail warden if we wanted to be p...p...p-unished! That’s r..r.. stupid, Fred! Stupid!” Roger burst out, arms flailing as he yelled. Most times when frustrated, he tried to stay as quiet as possible, knowing his stutter would make him look and sound like a fool, but he wasn’t about to be treated like a music making machine for anyone. 

Freddie patted the blond’s shoulder, a weak bid to calm him down. “Darling, I know it’s ridiculous. But until we have some creditably, there’s not much we can do. Just grin and bear it. As usual,” he said, more to Roger than the others who seemed to have accepted their fates.

Roger rolled his eyes, shrugging off Freddie’s hand. There was so much he wanted to say. Like how he refused to be used like a ragdoll, thrown into any opportunity no matter how shitty. How getting respect was much more important than bowing to authority. How they should walk out of this management company immediately. But all that came out was

“W..w...w-ell, we s..s... well, we s..s..s.. oh for fucks s..s-ake!” Roger tried and failed to say, growling towards the end when the words just refused to come out. He slammed his hands on his knees, getting up and stalking out of the room.

This is why he loathed his stutter. His brain was swarming with things to say but his tongue was stuck in what seemed like an endless seizure, jumbling things up and spitting them out all crooked and wrong. Whenever he felt any emotion too strongly, it got even worse. Unintelligible, even.

He was outside the building, leaning against the railing, hearing traffic whir past him as he pressed his palms into his eyelids, groaning. He wanted to go back inside and insult their manager, the lowlife scum he was. He wanted to yell at the other 3 for being such spineless twits. But he couldn’t. Not because it wasn’t nice. Only because his mouth would ruin the delivery, make him look pathetic. 

Not that the rest of Queen ever teased him for his stutter. They were surprisingly good with Roger about it. Never rushing him to spit it out or finishing his sentences for him. They’d sit there and wait minutes for him to get out just one word, not a single complaint or snicker. And Roger really appreciated how comfortable they made him feel in speech. It doesn’t mean he was buddy buddy with his stutter though. He might not ever get to that point.

He sighed, head sinking even lower, wondering if he could walk home from here. He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the door open. He looked back to see Brian approaching him, hands wringing. 

“You’re right, Rog. That bloke will bleed us dry if we let him,” Brian said, eyes on the road before them. 

Roger blew out some air from his nose, bluntly replying, “I’m always r...r-ight,”

Brian snorted at that, gently elbowing Roger’s side, Roger batting a hand to get him to stop, still in no mood for jokes and giggles.

“I can’t verify that, but sure, sure. But uh, I’ll need help convincing the rest we deserve better. No one’s as persuasive as you,” Brian said, his gaze now on the angry drummer. Roger sneered, using one of his shoes to kick at some loose asphalt. 

“I can barely speak at the moment. Rather s...s-ave my breath,” he said. 

Brian’s face softened, a hand threatened to go on the other’s shoulder but pulling it away. He didn’t wanna lose a few digits to a shark bite. Instead he took a few seconds to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I can see it’s rough right now for you. I can’t pretend to understand it, but I do know you are the most heavily opinionated of the 4 of us and I hate to see you not speak your mind. Especially for something so vital,”

Roger, too, stayed quiet for some time, heavy lids fluttering as he contemplated what Brian said. He knew where his mind was, speaking it was the issue. 

He inhaled deeply and let it out with a splutter - goddamn Malboros -  before looking to Brian and shrugging. Not really a victory or defeat but Brian would take it.

♚

“You absolute overgrown s..s..s-choolboy! P...p-ig headed mule! You sucking our b..b...b-lood like a leach is over. You can kiss Queen’s ass g..g-oodbye!” Roger finished his tirade with the click of the phone back on it’s dock.

Blue eyes shining and voice returning to it’s usual soft and effeminate tone, he asked, “Was that what you all had in mind?”

The room was quiet, Brian nodding as he scratched his chin, Freddie grinning and prim and proper John pale and in need of cardiac resuscitation. Their break up with their management wasn’t really supposed to go like this, but at least now they were free, so could they complain.

Freddie gave Roger a quick and dainty round of applause before saying, “Not at all, dear! But now I have an idea for a song...”

[lightsandlostbells]

Druck season 2, episode 4 reaction

I want to thank turtleneck boy because I truly miss the fandom running wild with every detail and coming up with theories, I mean that sincerely. God bless you, sweater man.

Episode 4

Clip 1 - Motto selection 

We have the graduating class looking at mottos. Amira and Leonie are leading the meeting. Leonie sure likes to lead school activities. We also have Mia, Hanna, Jonas, and Matteo in attendance. I really like seeing more school activities, especially since the hero party thing wrapped up last season, and this seems like a particularly German tradition from what I can tell, so it’s a cool thing to include.

Jonas is wearing a fedora today and like, he’s rocking it and twirling it around and stuff, but baby, you gotta be aware of the implications.

They’re picking out a motto, but as Leonie emphasizes with finger quotes, these are “the best” and Amira says none of them are great. “Photoshop-Philipp” put together some examples of the logos. His name is Markus. He’s the theater kid from the first season, with his hair tied back and I never would have recognized him if fandom hadn’t pointed him out.

That dude in the black turtleneck sent us all into conspiracy mode. Initially he was giving me German Even vibes, too. Was this their version of kosegruppa? He smiles when Matteo starts laughing at Photoshop Philipp, and his body language is angled toward Matteo, kinda, could that be a clue??? Why would they give us a random close-up of that guy when Jonas starts talking about CannABIs, when he doesn’t have a line at that moment or anything? Why was he tying his shoe for so long? Surely Druck is trying to tell us something!

Yet apparently it has been confirmed that he is not German Even, but is some random extra who’s been popping up in school scenes. That was a fun few days of speculation, though.

When the cannabis-themed logo pops up, Jonas says that there are some students in this school who are critical of the dangers of smoking weed, and he’s definitely directing that toward Hanna (he looks at her at the end, and Hanna looks over her shoulders and rolls her eyes). Nice bit of passive-aggressiveness there.

Another one is a parody of the alt-right Germany party (AFD) logo. Jonas likes that direction. Some random girl doesn’t like it and doesn’t want to give more attention to the party, but Amira and Mia think it’s funny. You know, kinda cool that these random students are getting a voice this season - like in the classroom debate, or the discussion here. It’s not just the main characters having all the dialogue in these scenes, it makes it feel a little more like an actual school, if that makes sense. (ETA: @randomfinny and @hyperfictional pointed out that she’s actually German Sara. Lol, I never would have recognized her, so thank you!)

I laughed at Jonas and Matteo being lazy in the back of the class. and them both putting their heads down. They’re in sync!

Suddenly there’s Axel walking in! Good thing Kiki isn’t part of this meeting. Did he join just to hang out with Mia? 

I will say this, I am not complimentary toward Alex, but we’ve seen more of a personality from him thus far than with William, imo. He’s been shown to have some political opinions, and this shows a little bit of creativity/initiative on his part. He seems pretty pleased with his design/logo. He thinks it’s pretty gangster.

His logo is Abi Chaker Clan 2019, which is a reference to a family in Berlin with ties to organized crime? It doesn’t mean much to me as a non-German, but I’m going to take that it’s clever. Most of the group seems to like it. Jonas and Matteo approve. Markus doesn’t understand it. He’s like the only one other than Mia who’s not on board, lol. They take a vote, everyone puts their hands up except Mia. Hanna tells her that it’s better than others, so Mia reluctantly raises her hand. Even when she does so, she’s pointedly looking away from Alex.

As they leave, Jonas sticks his fedora on Matteo’s head. Be still my heart.

They’re going to have another meeting on Friday, Alex offers his place. Mia isn’t gonna be happy about that!

I will say this, this is what I wanted for Noorhelm remakes - give them something to work on that isn’t them dating, like a school project or whatever. Although now I’m like … they could have started with this stuff, the graduation committee, and not gotten into the whole renewed Kiki/Alex angle which makes this all messier and more complicated and harder to be on team Alex or team Winterberg. And I get that’s probably what they were going for, throwing more obstacles into the story so Mia still has doubts about being with Alex, but it also means I need that I need certain aspects addressed before I can fully get on board with this ship, and I’m afraid they won’t do that. Or I’m afraid that Mia’s flaws will be addressed but Alex’s will be excused.

That being said, I’m on team Amira with the decision to let Alex into the group. Sometimes you have to put personal feelings aside, and Alex’s involvement will benefit everyone else in the class by making the yearbooks cheaper. And tbh I don’t think it’s right to exclude someone from participating in a school group like this unless they’re actively disrupting the group itself, regardless of how much that person may have wronged me or my friends romantically.

When Mia starts to argue, Amira says that she knows the cost isn’t a big deal to Mia and some others, but other students came to her and said they couldn’t afford it. I wonder if Kiki was one of them… she probably wouldn’t tell that to Amira, though. Not in those words.

This isn’t Amira’s big secret, though, is it? Like Pawel isn’t some dude at the printing company, and she was just trying to keep it under wraps so Mia didn’t find out? I feel like her secret has to be bigger and more personal than that.

The question is, did Alex do this to get on Mia’s good side or to hang out with her? Or is he trying to engage and do something nice without expectations? Because I respect that second one more, obviously.

Amira is so lovely, I truly hope we get her season.

Clip 2 - Alex is hyped for Game of Thrones to return

Mia runs into Alex. She says they need to talk. He smirks and says, “Winter is coming,” and GOD FUCKING DAMMIT that made me laugh out loud. It’s so obvious but I laughed. 

You know, Mia looks a tiny bit like Daenerys Targaryen. 

There’s a shot of them walking down the path thing with the divider in the middle, oooo, ~symbolic. They meet at the end.

Mia tells him to stop grinning, and he says yes, sergeant Winter, and salutes. FUCK OFF that’s the second time I’ve laughed in this clip at this dude. I hate myself. 

She chews him out for becoming a “committing patron” and he’s all “??? I wanted to help??” And I will give this to him, he did actually help out the group regardless of intentions, so maybe let that one slide, Mia, in the spirit of utilitarianism. Then she mentions NYE and the midnight voice message, which he does deserve to be chewed out for.

SOMEONE IS WATCHING THEM. It’s Sam??? Oh shit, she saw them talking! Hopefully she assumes Mia is just yelling at Alex. But she’s going to know Mia and Alex are in cahoots. Will she end up using this against Mia, or will she go to Mia and offer her support when Mia feels like she can’t tell anyone what’s happening?

Clip 3 - Ironing soothes the soul

Mia checks her phone and sees a bunch of messages from people praising Alex’s motto and hyping him up as the man. She gets off the bed, puts on a Chopin record and we are treated to a slow-montage scene of Mia ironing her clothes, including stuff like pajamas and socks, things that do not really need to be ironed if you asked me.

But I like the purpose of this scene! Mia feels out of control and frustrated and helpless with Alex’s inclusion in the group and everybody praising him and talking him up, and on top of it she doesn’t feel in control of her own feelings, so she has this ritual where she puts on music and makes her clothes neat and orderly. She uses order as a coping mechanism. Even the way this is shot makes it feel very precise and serene, the way she goes about this ritual so calmly, the way she smooths down her ironed items, the way the camera moves upward at the end, like all Mia’s anxieties are just floating away. You can just sink into this moment and realize how Mia clears her head.

Also that it’s classical music - something that also feels very orderly. And as we learn later in the episode, Mia can play piano including classical pieces so perhaps she has a strong history with it.

This was something indicated with Noora - for example, she was throwing out and getting rid of stuff once William had left her, and tidying up her room before she was supposed to meet with William prior to him going to London. She was thrown out of balance when Eskild ate her fish cakes. So I like that they’re going into it with Mia, and as others have mentioned it might be another sign of Mia’s ED. (Perfectionism is a common trait in people with eating disorders, and excessive tidiness/need for order is a sign of perfectionism).

Ironing complete, Mia searches for Alexander Hardenberg online. She considers following Alex on IG - too far, girl, he’s gonna take that as a marriage proposal.

Mia’s phone background includes Hans, awww.

She finds various links including one talking about his sister Sophie, who was two years older than he was. There are theories that Sophie will take over the Niko role, but I don’t buy that. For one, Alexander got very defensive over people talking about his “sister” in the classroom debate, and I don’t think he’d care if his sister was a creep. Second, it would be in EXTREMELY poor taste to have the biggest wlw rep on this show be a woman preying on and assaulting another woman, especially as a counter to Mia and Alex’s heterosexual relationship that’s probably going to be True Love. Just. The worst. I wrote this speculation post, but I think Sophie’s probably dead or something bad happened to her. Björn is some dude who was involved in what happened to her.

I don’t know what song this is as Mia is falling into the Alex Hardenberg rabbit hole, but it sounds like classical to me, and it’s like her coping mechanism/mental safe space is getting conflated with this guy.

Hans bursts into the room saying the Mia needs to look at his dick, because he thinks he has an STD, specifically tripper (gonorrhea) and he needs her to compare with some picture online. OK, I have to say, I have never ever heard that term for gonorrhea before. I’ve only heard it called the clap. Did Druck just teach me something? Yes, it did.

I have to praise Milena’s reactions here, they are restrained but suitably horrified.

Hans exposes his junk to Mia and she notes that yeah, it looks similar to the picture. He storms out and yells his fury to the heavens. When Mia asks if she should go to the pharmacy for him, he says he needs a chamomile tea first. LMAO. I feel like it was implied Mia would make the tea, right?

Clip 4 - Dingalings

Matteo’s just hanging with the girls as they talk about Hans’ clap, I guess. This child is not in a good state. He doesn’t seem very engaged in this conversation, but then again … would you want to hear about someone’s gonorrhea? 

The girls are like HERE LOOK AT THESE GONORRHEA PICS and Matteo is just sitting there shooting them looks of WTF.

Sam calls it a “dingaling”. It’s nice to know she uses the same euphemism as my mom. She wants to know what a “gay penis” looks like, compared to a straight penis, I guess. Babe, you can go onto the Internet and find that out with a few clicks.

I laughed again at Matteo giving this side-eye to the girls while he looks at something on his phone. Or him nervously looking at them while they talk about what gay penis looks like.

Matteo picks up a banana as Sam asks about his dingaling. Druck going for that subtle symbolism, I see.

Sam asks Matteo how he measures dingalings, and he’s like, “...what?” There’s a nice moment where Hanna and Mia react and Mia tries to change the subject and divert attention from Matteo, in case this gets into uncomfortable territory for him. I liked that! Different from Eva and Noora having a fun time with Isak’s mysterious sexuality.

However, Sam really wants to know. Matteo mumbles that you do it with a ruler and Sam immediately gets out that ruler like she’s prepared to put this into practice. Not at the table, darling. Matteo isn’t even looking at them as he explains the rest.

Sam writes down “only when it’s hard” and underlines it, like she’s taking notes and this will be on the final exam for Dingalings 101.

Matteo sees Jonas walk in, and Matteo waves him over, probably thinking OH GOD SAVE ME, but Jonas just backtracks out of the room. NOOOOOO. I saw people think he was mad at Matteo, but I thought he was trying to avoid Hanna, which was confirmed in a text. If he and Matteo had a tiff, Matteo probably wouldn’t be waving him over so chill, unless he didn’t know Jonas was mad at him.

Matteo is not even looking at Hanna when she asks if Jonas has someone, just at his phone. What is he so engrossed with on his phone? Is it something specific or just generic sad teenage disengagement? Is it just him being one of The Youths?

Matteo waited until Sam left to tell Hanna that Jonas waits for her to post stuff on IG, IDK if there was a reason he waited. And there wasn’t any real reason Sam had to get up and leave during this scene, so is it at all important? Unless they just wanted the three sadsacks at the table together for the end of this clip, and Sam is not sufficiently angsty about her love life right now.

But Matteo tells Hanna that Jonas doesn’t have a new girl, he waits around for her to post new IG stories. Hanna is confused why, and Matteo is like, why does someone spend an entire evening stalking someone? Ohhh, damn. Mia is gonna feel that comment resonate uncomfortably.

Also, nice of Matteo to help out Hanna and Jonas’ relationship instead of snaking on her. As far as we know. (I think he’s being nice, not a snake this time.)

In case we didn’t get the connection, Axel texts Mia if she prefers wine or beer, for the yearbook meeting tomorrow, I guess. Checking in to see what she likes, her preferences. 

We see Mia, Matteo, and Hanna at the table, all of them a little out of sorts. Mia thinking about Axel, Hanna thinking about Jonas, Matteo thinking about … something ... or someone … dude is very busy on his phone.

Clip 5 - After party at Axel’s

Mia brushes her teeth before going over to Alex’s - I guess that’s supposed to be her showing interest in him? A sign that she wants to be at her best? Or, you know, a sign that she practices good oral hygiene. 

Hanna texts her and hopes she’s coming soon, because Hanna doesn’t want to be there alone because of Jonas. Damn, kids, you’re really tearing my heart out about this. Get back together already!

Axel texts Mia that she doesn’t need to bring a toothbrush because he has a new one ready for her. Well, that’s rather presumptuous. Mia seems a little amused, though.

She locks herself out of the apartment and texts Hans about it. Hans will be back at midnight to let Mia in. Also the tripper situation is still causing him pain and he stole money from his sick aunt to pay for medicine? Hans is so much more of a mess than Eskild was, like he’s going to have to evolve fast if he’s going to adopt Matteo.

This next part is beautiful, as we cut between Mia getting on the bus and traveling to Alex’s house, and shots of the characters looking into the camera as someone reads the comments about them. Isn’t this kinda like those character descriptions from pre-season? That promo stuff? So maybe it wasn’t just for promo, but an overall theme of the season, about the labels we stick on people or the shallow ways we perceive them.

Hanna - Gets bitch, red devil, arrogant. Who called Hanna a bitch?? Red devil?? Get the fuck out. Ex-BFF is from Leonie. Someone calls Hanna the “best decision of my life” and I think that was probably Jonas, please take that dagger out of my heart, oh my God.

Amira - Gets “hijab” like 8 times. So sad that this is all people know about her or think about her. They see the hijab and think that’s the sum total of who she is, rather than part of it. And it’s also othering, because the hijab stands out, it’s different from everyone else. I feel like Amira is used to it, too, like she probably expected that response. She also gets called ISIS. Man, fuck that edgy piece of shit person who wrote that. At least she gets some other comments like how she’s cool, like the people who actually know her and don’t stereotype her or judge her think she’s the best.

Matteo - Basically he’s a chill bro and fades into the background, although one person thinks he’s a good kisser. Hmmm, has he been going around smooching girls like Isak did?

Alex - gets almost all negative comments about how arrogant or jerkish he is, or his car compensating for his lack of dong size, except for some comments about how he’s hot. Look, if you want me to feel sorry about that, how people are just judging him unfairly, you’ve gotta show me more proof that he hasn’t been a major asshole throughout his high school career and this isn’t an accurate assessment of how he’s treated people or behaved this whole time, even if he’s supposed to be a nice guy underneath.

Mia - gets lots of comments on how hot she is, with some about her feminism or being boring. Habibi comes from Amira. Lesbian? Final one is “prettiest woman on earth” which probably was from Alex, honestly, and she seems kinda OK hearing him read that one out loud. (Although my kingdom for those “lesbian?” and “prettiest woman on earth” comments to have both come from like, Kiki.)

Matteo is once again lying on the couch on his phone, checked out. Someone send that kid an Even to bring him to life.

They talk about whether everyone should be able to cross out comments and that they don’t have time to chase everyone down, but I agree with Mia that everyone should be able to censor theirs, not just the committee. Alex agrees with Mia and gives a sensible option, that people have two weeks to contact the staff if they want to censor their comments. He says he doesn’t want to censor his comments because in twenty years he wants to remember what an arrogant ass he was, and everyone laughs, and you can take that as a sign of character growth that he wants to evolve past being an ass, or him thinking it was a fun time rather than something he regrets.

There’s turtleneck boy again. Who isn’t Even, but maybe could be German Julian Dahl. 

Alex ordered pizza and beer, and the meeting gets more like a party. Hanna and Matteo throw pizza at each other and Hanna gives him the finger, cute! Alex arm wrestles Markus the theater photoshop kid. All throughout the evening, Mia seems attuned to Alex’s presence and keeps looking his way. I know that kind of feeling, I’ve been to parties where I was Mia and someone’s presence was like a magnet.

Hanna and Matteo talk in the kitchen about Jonas. Hanna asks where Jonas is, seeing as he’s not at the meeting, and Matteo says he doesn’t know, Jonas wanted to come. Which is a lie seeing as Jonas told Matteo he wasn’t going in a text message that we saw. At least Matteo is trying to spare Hanna’s feelings.

Mia is in Alex’s bathroom, looking at the stuff on the counter. I guess she’s just inspecting his stuff? She opens a jar and it’s overflowing with condoms, lol. I guess Alex got over his “latex allergy” at some point or learned his lesson about not wrapping it up. Maybe he had his own adventure with tripper. (I’m imagining him in his own version of the scene with Hans, wailing and opening his robe to a befuddled Toilet Sam.)

Hans texts her that now he won’t be home until 1. When Mia comes out of the bathroom, everyone else is leaving. Now Mia’s first option is that she could totally leave with her friends and chill with them, and if she’s locked out, she could crash at Hanna’s. But Amira has to study, Leonie has a date, and Hanna is going to the cinema with her dad. (What if Hanna was going to Jonas’ instead ... no, I won’t get entertain that happy delusion.) Anyway, Hanna suggests that Mia just kill time at Alex’s until she can go home.

Mia and Alex look at each other across the room. There is some nice nonverbal tension. The toilet flushes and Markus comes out of the bathroom. Now there are three of them, I like this shot of them in a triangle. Lol, Markus is so drunk he doesn’t know if he puked on himself. He doesn’t know how he broke up the Mia/Alex staring contest.

Alex and Mia look at each other and laugh after Markus leaves, which is a genuinely nice moment. Mia explains her situation and says she’ll go to the cinema or hang out in the park until then. Alex says she could stay and he’ll drive her home later. There’s a funny bit where Mia says he’s not allowed to drive, and Alex says he’ll call his chauffeur, and then does an imitation of Mia’s inner monologue - “Is he that rich? No … or maybe he is?” I do like that they’ve given Alex so much more of a sense of humor.

Lmao, Alex jumping on the random skateboard and gliding across the floor, I have to say if I lived in a big empty place like that, I’d be doing shit like that a lot. Speaking of, that is one big, spacious apartment, like there’s some art on the walls and stuff but it still gives off that cold lonely rich kid vibe.

I like Mia walking around examining the place as he makes her rosehip tea. Alex mentions that his sister used to live here - again, we don’t get more details than that, like whether she moved or died, what happened to her. It seems like he might have cut off that line of inquiry when he asks Mia if she wants honey in her tea - either a coincidence or a deliberate attempt to change the subject.

However, that does throw into context Björn’s appearance in the next clip, because Björn was showing up to the sister’s old apartment. Why was he messing around in there? I think that dude might be the sister’s boyfriend or ex.

There’s a piano. In that same room are a lot of moving boxes; either because Alex was moving in, or because the sister was moving out. Or maybe they were packing up Sophie’s things because she died?

Mia asks him whether he plays or whether it’s there to impress girls. Alex says no, so I’m betting it was the sister’s piano. He also asked whether they should go sit in the other room to drink the tea, I think that he didn’t want to answer questions about the piano or be near it, like it probably reminds him of whatever happened to the sister.

Gold star to Mia for not playing without payment and for not negotiating. I love her.

Was that the theme music from Titanic she was playing and acting like she was really into?? Lmao.

Finally, she plays something legit, “Montagues and Capulets” (or “Dance of the Knights”) from the ballet Romeo and Juliet by Prokofiev. HMMM could there be any connection to star-crossed lovers with this subject matter? Hey, it’s subtler than a banana.

At first I was wondering why her playing seemed out of sync and was like ... did they get a body double to play for her or something? Because I think Milena can really play. But then we see that it’s intentionally out of sync, as we see them eating and talking over the music. Perhaps to symbolize things being out of sorts; earlier this clip we had Mia using classical music as a way to restore order in her life, and here that order is rapidly dissolving, so the music isn’t really soothing, and the images aren’t neatly in line with it. 

When Alex asks what song that was, Mia says it’s Drake. L M A O I adore her.

Hans texts Mia that he’s not coming home tonight as he’s met some other dude with gonorrhea and they’re going to hook up. Er, have fun with that, Mr. Currently Peeing Shards of Glass. Anyway, he asks if she can stay at Hanna’s. Alex says Mia can just stay there, she can take the bed and he’ll take the sleeping mat. Mia asks why doesn’t he just sleep on the couch and he says the fridge is too loud. We are treated to the sounds of the thunderous fridge. Actually, it is pretty loud for a fridge, if you’re sensitive to that kind of thing I can see it being a problem.

He says she can rent his bed for the night, like in a hotel. Which is what seems to convince her, him framing it not like a benevolent gesture but a transaction. So Alexander sets up the bed for Mia. He gives the new toothbrush that he had mentioned, and she pays him back what he gave her.

Mia climbs into bed and smells the fresh linen. She checks her phone and Hans says that Emilio finished fast so he’s coming home, and Hanna says Mia can come over. But Mia pulls an Isak, telling Hanna that Hans is home and Hans that she’s with Hanna. Wow, there is no chance of that backfiring, not with these two people who appear to be on friendly terms.

They don’t share a bed as Noorhelm did; true to his word, Alex sleeps on the floor, and she gets the bed. I think that’s indicative of where they’re at with each other right now; they still have distance between them, but they’ve developed a state of comfort and can let down their guard to a degree.

They wish each other good night, and she calls him Axel. That makes him smile. And then he asks that that wasn’t really Drake, was it? Which makes her smile. Let him go to his grave thinking it was Drake, Mia.

Social Media/General Comments

I’ll say this, Chris Veres is doing well as Alex, performance-wise. Previously he was my least favorite William, and I thought he was very flat in S1, which I guess was intentional, since I heard he tried to play Alex as very cold and unfeeling. Now we’ve seen him showing more personality and especially glimpses of humor and levity. So regardless on my thoughts of the character overall, I think the actor is doing a fine job. 

A lot of people seem to have hopped on board with Alex after this episode, even people who hated William, and I think that largely has to do with the performance. I’m not sure I would say I’m completely on board with Alex as a character - he still has a lot of stuff to account for, and there are things that I really need Druck to redeem about him in order for me to like him. I especially need apologies - or at least some sense of regret and humility over his specific mistakes, rather than him trying to defend himself and Mia falling for it. But I get why fandom is starting to like him, he’s showing more charisma here. There are things I certainly like about him compared to William, for instance that he seems to have more interests and opinions on things that don’t have to do with his love interest. He had some genuinely funny lines in this episode. 

Also, I’ve said it before, but I wasn’t sold on Mia entirely in S1, but Milena Tscharntke is really winning me over this season. Mia feels like her own character, certainly one with traits in common as Noora, but also not a Noora clone. 

Kiki was totally absent this episode, and I wonder if that was to lull us into forgetting the Kiki/Alex drama so we, like Mia, could start to fall for him. In putting Kiki aside for an episode, it’s kind of like we don’t have this reminder of what Alex and Mia have done to her, something that I’m sure will come crashing back and causing conflict in the next episode. It also makes you wonder what Kiki has been doing since we last saw her. How is she coping? Breaking more hearts?

The music needs to be used more sparingly. This episode had some good selections but basically it’s falling into a pattern that’s plagued some of the remakes, where the music always gets used the same way: a song at the start of the clip, a song at the end of it, so that it starts to lessen the impact of the music because we can predict when it will appear. I think it happens in some remakes, like Skam France or Druck, because they run some previews/production credits at the end, and they want music to go over it instead of silence. But last season I think they did have some clips that ended with silence over the credits, or things like Hanna sighing, or random banter, and that didn’t bother me, that helped to retain the atmosphere of the clip. 

There’s a theory that S3 and/or S4 have been running in the background of this season, and while I can see evidence for that, I really hope it’s not the case. Especially after this last clip - I thought it was great, the pacing worked and there were some inspired directing choices, so imagine what we could get with Matteo or Amira’s seasons with that kind of style. It would work so well with one of the long Evak or Yousana clips, something like Mekke øl or The Best of Islam.

Mia is like, “Won’t we get in copyright trouble for this?” as a feeble attempt in the committee chat not to pick Alex’s motto, lol. Give her credit for fighting a losing battle to the end.

Hans had like three text messages about his clap. First he accuses a dude of infecting him with the clap, while the dude is like, nah, just went to the doctor yesterday, I’m good, and Hans is like … oops … embarrassing. Then he goes after the next dude he banged, who reciprocates his electronic shouting match. Finally messages Michi, who’s like, thank God, I thought you were breaking up with me again. Dude. Hans. I know you find Michi a bore, I guess, but some dude whose reaction to hearing he has the clap is “at least you didn’t break up with me” to the dude who gave it to him, is someone you might wanna hang on to. And not in a boomerang way, in a “this is a keeper” way.

Matteo and Jonas text and apparently Jonas planned to skip the yearbook meeting/party because of Hanna. So that’s probably why he ran away in the dingaling clip, because he saw Hanna there. I’m wondering if they’re going to get back together this season or if they’ll string us along for a few more.

According to Matteo’s IG stories, that was the first time Photoshop Philipp/Markus got drunk, and Matteo made sure to document the highs, followed by the inevitable lows.

I’m not German, so feel free to correct me if I missed anything.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!

[unsuccesscr]

Here’s another Izuku death fic for which you can blame @invisiquirk and our ongoing angst war. Second person bc IG that’s just how I write angst now.

Warning for blood, gore, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of bullying, mentions of child abuse.

You’ve never wanted to die before. Not even when things were at their worst, when others would try to goad you into it, calling you worthless. Not when you came to school one day and found white funeral lilies sitting on your desk. Not when Katsuki told you to take a swan dive off the roof.

No, you’ve always wanted to live. Death is a surrender, one you were never willing to give. An ending, a release.

You would give just about anything for release right now, for an end to this torture. You suppose that means you want to die, but after hours (days?) of this that thought doesn’t rattle you as much as it should. Not that you can hardly comprehend it, at this point, can’t comprehend anything beyond the pain and terror.

That gloved hand makes it’s way to your arm, fingertips lightly brushing over scars and much more recent wounds in a way that could almost be described as gentle except for the brutality that comes with it. A scream ripped from your throat as the flesh is ripped from your bones and your sanity ripped from your mind.

You arch up off the table--not trying to get away, you’ve long since lost the sense for that--but the restraints cutting into your wrists and ankles don’t allow you to go far. You’re being splattered with your own blood, wet and warm and gross, your clothes have grown tacky with the saturation of it. But that’s not exactly on the top of your list of priorities at the moment.

When your arm is whole once again you don’t feel relief because you know by now--learned the hard way--that it’s just a precursor for torment.

It’s unclear why you’re here. You know how. You know you were ambushed on your way to school. Injected with something that made you fall unconscious before you got more than a few blows in. But you don’t know why.

The man in the mask has left you un-gagged and at first you thought that this was possibly some sort of interrogation, that he wanted to pull answers from you. But he’s asked you no questions. Maybe he thinks you won’t give answers yet. 

Now you realize that he hadn’t bothered because there was no way anyone would hear you. You know this because you’re not the only one screaming here. When the man leaves the room every once in a while and you get a brief reprieve you can hear someone else; someone young. A child’s cries.

Every bit of you aches to go to them. Save them. But how can you do that when you can’t even save yourself. It’s not a reprieve, not really, because listening to the sobs of ‘no’ and ‘please stop’ are almost worse than the tearing of your own skin, muscle, and bone. And then he returns to do just that.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The man in the mask--some sort of plague doctor get up. Meant to be ironic, you supposed--speaks for the first time as if he can read your mind. For the moment he doesn’t touch you; expects you to answer.

“I don’t know,” you rasp, desperately, tears rolling down already wet cheeks. “I don’t know, what do you want? What do you want from me?” 

“That’s a bit ego-centric, don’t you think? Typical symptom of hero syndrome,” The man says and you have no idea what he’s talking about. Hero Syndrome? It doesn’t make any sense at all and he doesn’t seem to be keen on providing any more clarification on that subject. “Believe it or not this isn’t about you at all, sickling.”

Sickling. Another thing you don’t understand. But you don’t particularly want to listen to this monster ramble on about whatever ideology is making him do this. So you focus on the real issue “Why am I here, then?”

The man is silent, eyes narrowed at you with an amount of contempt that is strange given that this is the first time you’ve ever met and it’s not as if you’re torturing him. He comes in close and you flinch, instinctively.

“A lesson. This is a lesson. But not for you, you’re past learning.” the answer is vague and frustrating in a way that makes you want to scream out of anger rather than agony but your throat is raw and you’re so, so tired, so you settle for glaring at him.

He’s clearly waiting for you to prompt him further, taking some sort of sick satisfaction from this conversation. But you want to know. Need to know. Why this is happening. “A lesson? For who?”

“One of my associates, someone you know quite well, actually. Someone you nearly infected.” the voice was thick with hatred again and maybe if you weren’t so addled with the pain and fresh new scars and the echoes of a child’s cries ringing in your head then you would begin to piece together what this all meant. But as it stood you were getting more and more confused with each passing second.

“They lost sight of our goals. Getting close to heroes is acceptable, to gather in-tell. But not too close. You were too close.” he continues to explain something that you’re beginning to think isn’t even for your edification, he just wants to vent. “And now they’re going to learn why they can’t do that.”

“--Plus i’ll be getting rid of the distraction altogether. Two birds one stone.” ah, so you are going to die, then. The conclusion is more comforting than it has any right to be.

He moves towards you again, not giving you a chance to respond. Not that you had anything to say anyway. Nothing was going to make this better, make it make sense. He places two fingers on your chest, a little left of the center, and it’s over in an instant.

You’re left like that, chained to the table, clothes torn and drenched with blood and sweat, exposing wounds that would never have a chance to scar; a hole in your chest where your heart used to be. 

A symbolic death that you never would have understood, even if you were around to comprehend it, but the recipient of this lesson would know all too well.

[deergoeshome]

Cry Baby

Now I’m not here to tell anybody how to live or anything, and I’m not sure if these are even words that I will say that I live by in like 10 years, but if 2020 has taught me anything, it’s that it is OK to cry. In fact, I have a theory that it’s actually good to cry. Often too. It’s a sign that you’re still human with emotions and stuff, not just a robot or a zombie. 

There were many days this year that I felt like a robot zombie. After working all day, I would realize that I didn’t eat or drink water or have any real conversations with people all day (ironic because I work in a kitchen and am around people all day long!). And I would almost always immediately break down, but I couldn’t really understand why. Was I just feeling sorry for myself? Were my expectations of my role not being met and I was dissatisfied? Was I comparing my experience to someone else’s and coveting an “easier” role?

There were also innumerable instances where the stream of tears flowed from a place that I could only describe as the human experience. Twenty-twenty, complete with disease, death, fear and anxiety, overtime hours, furloughs, riots, destruction from wildfires, and everything in between, brought us to our knees. If you weren’t personally grieving loss, you were witnessing the grief of an entire community, our society. 

For me, there was a weird sense of guilt I experienced too. I quarantined at a luxury guest ranch in the mountains with a bunch of my best friends. We spent our days getting around to projects that had been neglected, hosting competitions, playing sports, celebrating birthdays, and hiking or riding horses. I had a fulfilling job this whole time too. It was like I was having the time of my life while a bomb was going off in the outside or “real” world. 

Thankfully, before I knew any of this was coming, I had kind of braced myself for an emotionally traumatizing year with personal family stuff, and I decided to begin counseling again. Our sessions kind of tapered off as the time came for us to reopen for the summer, but boy, am I thankful for the emotional bootcamp to which I subjected myself for 3 months.

All this to say, 2020 was really full of emotions, not in the sense of good and bad ones, but more along the lines of fun and not fun, pleasant and painful, helpful and inconvenient, life-giving and frustrating, and both necessary and (seemingly) unnecessary. There were a lot of them--constantly and all changing frequently. Crying didn’t make experiencing the spectrum of emotions that was always in flux easier, per se, but it does signal to me that I am feeling something and that that--being a human instead of a robot zombie--is a good thing.

***

I made a friend in Morocco at the beginning of the year. He had just spent 10 days at a silent meditation retreat and believe me, this guy was zen as hell. Like so joyful & grateful for everything in life. He was so much fun to be around! 

I had a rough and unpleasant experience with a family member while traveling and found myself wandering around a botanic garden crying because I didn’t know how to make the situation better. I was frustrated and angry with my family member and myself for it. As my zen friend was checking in on me over IG messaging, this is how our conversation went:

Me: Sometimes I cry because I’m feeling very much like myself & cry about a lot of things, happy & sad. And other times, like this week, I cry because I don’t feel like myself and I feel really frustrated. Lots of negative emotions & not feeling grateful or excited about people or nature or everything.

Zen friend: But that's normal. Life is like that, changing all the time. Observe the emotions, and try not to get caught in them.

Me: What do you do with them once you observe they are there?

Zen friend: Nothing. Interesting thing about it is that if you don't feed them, they pass away.

Me: Lol I hate that. I like the idea of being able to do something about the emotions. Like flicking them away.

Zen friend: So the best way to do this is to notice when the image/emotion comes up, and stop the engagement of the mind in it. That is a bit more difficult to do then it sounds.

Me: Okie dokie. I’ll see what I can do. Or not do?

It’s tiring--crying, that is. I’ll cry and observe the emotions and then cry some more. But it’s normal--the emotions, that is. And crying should be too, don’t you think? 

***

I have two favorite spots for crying, both at the ranch. Actually, three including anywhere by the ocean. But since my two favorite spots were not accessible today, I walked over to a freeway overpass and watched cars zoom by. I’ve been suicidal before, but today wasn’t one of those days. I just felt sad for some dysfunctional relationships and also for the fact that I couldn’t cry in my favorite spot. 

And then I felt guilty. The poor people who would walk over this bridge and be like What’s wrong with that girl? as they passed me, scooting to the farthest side of the pathway. And most of them will also think to themselves Should I ask her what’s wrong? Clearly she’s upset and crying about something. No, I should keep a distance of 6 feet. We are in the middle of a pandemic so she probably doesn’t want a stranger to talk to her anyway.

And that got me thinking. Why is crying taboo? Why is it bad to feel the not fun emotions and express it, even if you are in public? Because it sure as hell is not real life to have everything together all the time. And it is the farthest thing from reality for anyone to be expected to do that in 2020. 

A kind individual did stop to talk to me. He asked what was wrong. 2020? I told him no, 2020 has been pretty good for me, actually. But upon further examination, maybe yes. Maybe the sheer amount of emotions of 2020 did cause me to cry. But also maybe not in that particular instance. Maybe it’s because sometimes it would just be easier to be a robot zombie rather than a human. 

Life would be easier without tears or emotions or relationships or the stress of a society that seems to be falling apart, would it not? It’s not a bad thing to be crying over these difficult things. It’s a way to cope instead of remaining in a state of denial. It’s observing that the realties and the emotions are there and that they are just as tangible as the courage and bravery you have chosen each morning that you’ve gotten up to face these things head on.

Wherever you’re at and however you are feeling as 2020 comes to an end, I wish you the fullest of human experiences, complete with emotions, courage, and tears amidst the difficulties. I hope that this next year will be full of tears, whether from joy or pain, and that in this experience, we can all learn to show a little more compassion to other humans when we see them crying on freeway overpasses and beyond. 

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Hello, Angels

Title: Hello, Angels (Halloween Special)

Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, and Reader

Word Count: 1386

Warnings: Extremely brief mention of BDSM (nothing explicit), and leather clothing.

A/N: This literally came to me out of nowhere. It may or may not be funny, but I hope you like in none the less :) Happy Halloween everyone!!

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--

It was Halloween and pure luck seemed to be on your side as you beat all three members of “Team Free Will” at a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors! Beating Dean was taking candy from a baby, Cass was an idiot when it came to the game (and most games,) and Sam… Sam was one cocky son of a bitch, that you were enjoying shoving all his arrogant words down his throat.

“A deal is a deal, boys. We’re dressing up for Halloween and we’re going out to that block party in town!” You sang. “And I’ve already got our costumes ready!” You cheered, hopping around merrily.  

“You suck!” Dean spat at Sam. “How could you lose to her? I thought you were the ‘King’ of Rock, Paper, Scissors?”

“Shut up Dean, you ALWAYS lose at Rock, Paper, Scissors!” Sam retorted.

“I don’t understand what the problem is here,” Cass interrupted, completely oblivious to anything that was happening.

“Cass, shut up would you?” Dean hissed in frustration.

“You don’t have to be mean,” Cass retorted, sending Dean a sassy glance.

Dean was about to make a response when you came out with bags for each of them. Cass gladly accepted the bag given to him, Sam rolled his eyes before snatching the bag away from your hands, and Dean gave you his fiercest bitch face as you chucked the bag at his chest, shoving him back a step.

“Change up boys! You can thank me later!” You beamed before skipping off to your room to get ready.

You quickly got changed, excited to see the guys in the matching costumes you got them. You thought it was a clever and funny idea. This may be the best or the worst group costume you’ve come up with yet, but either way, you thought it was awesome.

A grin spread across your fiery red lips as you looked yourself in the mirror. Your chest was tightly wrapped up in a leather bralette that showed off your cleavage perfectly and skin-tight leather skinny jeans, which left no room for imagination. You finished your outfit with healed black boots. You made your way back towards the war room with another huge bag in hand. As you neared the common room, you could hear grumbling and yelling from your favorite boys.

“What is this S&M crap?!” You heard Dean yell. “What are we, Chippendale dancers?!”

“I don’t know Dean; this is all Y/N’s idea!” Sam retorted. “And at least you have a jacket!”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes, having them land on Castiel. “Cass, why do you get to dress normal?” Dean whined.

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Sam agreed with his brother.

Dean spotted you as you entered the room. His eyes widened at the sight of you, drinking in the view. His eyes roamed your leather clad body for longer than he had intended to before he cleared his throat.  

“Y/N, what the h-hell is th-this?!” Dean stuttered, pointing to his outfit. “A-and what the hell you got Sammy wearing?” He shifted his eye over to Sam and then Cass. “And how come Cass gets to dress like that?! Is he even in a costume?” Dean continued his game of 20 questions, attempting to ignore the fact that he very much loved your costume.

Dean was clothed in fitted leather pants that showed off his ass, a black blazer that didn’t button up, exposing his chest and delicious torso, and black combat boots. Sam wore loose leather pants, and a simple leather choker – his upper half exposed for all the world to admire. He also wore black combat boots. Cass on the other hand was in a white dress shirt, tucked into black slacks, with brown tinted aviators, and black dress shoes.

“Wow, Y/N, you look rather provocative, but none the less, very appealing.” You took Cass’s words as a compliment.

Sam just gawked at you, his eyes shamelessly scanning over your curves and bare skin. You couldn’t help but giggle at their reactions. It was flattering that three of the best looking men you have ever known were actually affected by you.

“Thanks Cass,” you grinned. “But I’ve got one more prop for us,” you mentioned, wiggling your eyebrows at the Winchester sibling.

“Is it a chain,” the words couldn’t slip out of Dean’s lips fast enough; his downstairs brain thinking quicker than his upstairs brain.

You, Sam, and Cass turned your attentions towards Dean who flinched slightly in embarrassment. He cleared his throat before nodding his head at the bag in your hands, while everyone continued to give Dean both amused and confused looks.

“What is wrong with you?” Sam questioned, shaking his head.

“What’s in the bag?” He demanded to know, his body fidgety in annoyance.

“OH! It’s what’s going make this entire costume come together,” you chirped, digging your hands into the back and pulling out white, feathery, wings with clear elastic bands to put your arms through.

“Bird wings?” Dean growled in aggravation.

“I think they’re angel wings, Dean,” Sam clarified.

“Correct!” You beamed.

“Those are rather small to be angel wings,” Cass announced.

“I know Cass, it’s just a costume,” you told him.

“Okay, so we’re wearing leather and angel wings, what the hell are we supposed to be, strippers?” Dean questioned with frustration.

“Charlie’s Angels!” You shouted in disbelief. If anyone was going to understand right away, you thought it would have been Dean, but you were clearly mistaken.

“Angel’s don’t wear leather, and there is no angel in heaven named Charlie, although there are a lot of souls who have similar n–” Cass was cut off.

“Cass I know! Stop being so literal!” You whined at the angel. “Charlie’s Angels is a movie,” you tried to clarify. “We’re going as Charlie’s Angels, or Castiel’s Angel as I like to call it,” you chuckled at your own joke. You weren’t surprised when the guys didn’t find it funny, but you did and that was all that mattered.

“That isn’t funny, nor it it clever,” Sam grumbled.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s not that bad,” you pouted, flashing your best puppy dog eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean cried. “Let’s just get this over with,” he growled, slipping on the angel wings even if he hated the idea.

“This is so lame,” Sam complained, struggling to get the wings on. “No one is going to get it.”

“I find this quite interesting,” Cass inputted. “I have never dressed up for Halloween, although this doesn’t seem any different than what I usually wear.”

“Lucky you,” Dean groaned.

You slipped on your wings and headed out the door and into the Impala with the guys. You were excited to show off your group costume to everyone at the party.

When you arrived, the celebration was in full swing. Music filled the air, people were dancing, drinking, playing games. It was more that what you were expecting. The guys also seemed to be impressed.

“Hey! Charlie’s Angels! Very sexy,” a tall blonde, with long legs, dressed in a slutty nurse’s outfit came by, obviously checking the guys out, including Cass.

You pouted as you took note of the guy’s drooling over her. “Maybe this was a lame idea,” you mumbled out loud.

“What are you talking about, these are awesome costumes,” Dean grinned, winking at the blonde.

“Yeah, awesome,” Sam echoed.

“I agree,” Cass added.

As they were ogling over the slutty nurse, you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you whipped around, you were met with a tall, and attractive guy dressed up as the sexiest pirate you’ve ever seen.

“Charlie’s Angels, nice,” he started. “Does this angel want to dance with a lowlife pirate?” He asked. You giggled.

“I’d love t–”

“Whoa buddy, what do you think you’re doing?” Dean interrupted. You jumped in surprised when Dean popped out of no where.

“Yeah, who do you think you are?” Sam barged in.

“I do not approve,” Cass joined.

“Easy, I was just asking her if she wanted to dance,” the cute pirate defended.

“She doesn’t want to dance with you. She’s already got us for that,” Dean barked.

Once again, you couldn’t help the laugh that spilled passed your lips. “Sorry, Mr. Cute Pirate.” This was going to be an interesting night.

Feedback Is Appreciated!

[polyrolemodels]

Poly Role Models: Educator Intimacy Con Amore

PolyRoleModels: So, welcome to PolyRoleModels. Thank you for taking the time. Would you like to introduce yourself?

Intimacy: Yes, thank you. Hi, my name is Intimacy Con Amore, and I am stoked to be here.

PolyRoleModels: Awesome, awesome. Yeah, let's go right into it. How long have you been polyamorous, or been practicing polyamory?

Intimacy: My entire life. My first relationship that was really a relationship was when I was 12 years old, and it lasted for two years, and included finding out he had a second girlfriend that he was keeping from me, calling her, laying the landscape out for her, telling her, "No wait, we're not mad about him dating each other, we're mad about him lying, so let's call him and tell him, 'You don't have to lie about this.'" We called him and told him that, and he agreed and apologized, and neither one of us broke up with him, and then both of our relationships just kind of organically grown out of a relationship by the time we started high school. But we're all still friends, and he thanks me often about teaching him to be honest and ethical about all of his relationship choices.

PolyRoleModels: Nice, very nice. What does your current relationship dynamic look like?

Intimacy: I have three longterm partners of 20 years, and that's always been a long distance relationship. 18 years and he lives locally, but he travels so much that it feels like a long distance relationship. And then, a ten year relationship and he lives less than two miles away.

PolyRoleModels: Oh, nice. What aspect of polyamory do you excel at?

Intimacy: Probably the communication, and sadly, encouraging, supporting, and educating others not to be cheaters and liars.

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, yeah, I mean, it's how you got your start, right?

Intimacy: Right.

PolyRoleModels: What aspect of polyamory do you struggle with?

Intimacy: Other people's expectations of my free time to be what I feel like is they feel entitled to, and so maybe for the last five years I've really focused on any new pursuits, it's about patience and making sure that they're not an impatient person and that they don't feel entitled to a certain amount of time with me, because maybe I want to see her every day for two weeks, maybe you don't want to see me every day for two weeks, but neither of us should expect each other to have the same amount of time set aside for each other, or even that mutual desire on the same day. Maybe I don't want to see you today, but you wanted to see me. You shouldn't be upset with me, you should just communicate that and accept that today's not that day, can I see you tomorrow?

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, I've been on both sides of that. How do you address and/or overcome these struggles? And I feel like you kind of answered it, but in case you wanted to add more to it.

Intimacy: Well, just in the last couple of years, I've addressed it by it being something we talk about up front, and it's also something that, recently, they have to prove to me, where before it was difficult because it wasn't something that I had even recognized was important to me, and it took me years of having that reoccurring problem, and I didn't really have the wording, because I didn't really have it identified as something that was important to me. It would just be, why are we having these problems around time, and it never occurred to me until recently, okay, no, this is something that for me is a very important requirement, desire. I can't be entitled. And before I felt like, "Well, I'm the woman," and in my mind, sticking to traditional heterosexual normal roles. "I have to available for my man at all times to be a good woman," and I'm not there anymore.

I know that's not a requirement for me to be a good mate regardless of my sex or gender, and so I guess I do head it off at the beginning now, so it's not a problem later, where before it would just be super frustrating to match up, like no, you can't insist that I have to be available for you every Friday and Saturday night, especially when I'm not just seeing you, there are other people who want to go out on Friday and Saturday night with me too, so we have to learn how to share these Friday and Saturday nights with others.

PolyRoleModels: Yes, definitely. All right. In terms of risk-aware or safer sex, what do you and your partners do to protect one another?

Intimacy: We get tested often. I get tested more often than my partners, because I have lupus and arthritis and diabetes, which means my immune system's weaker than the average human, so I get tested about every six weeks, sometimes eight weeks. Used to be a struggle, because I would have to fight my doctor for that, but now it's been the norm for her for some years now. She doesn't really argue with me, she just does it, like "Hey, did I give tests last month? Oh, it was last month, not this month? Okay, well I guess it's time." You know. Because I have regular monthly appointments, and sometimes they can be every other month if I'm super healthy. I'm only fluid-bonded with one partner, and he recently got a divorce, and haven't seen him since it was official, so I think we're going to have a conversation where I'm not going to be fluid-bonded with anyone, because now that he's quote-unquote "not married" and more free to do what he's going to do because he doesn't live with anyone, I just think it would be safer for all of us not to be fluid bonded and just use condoms and those who are fertile, something extra, more than just condoms.

PolyRoleModels: I understand. Okay. Good answer, by the way. What is the worst mistake you've ever made in your polyamorous history, and how did you rebound from that?

Intimacy: I think the worst mistake I've ever made is the same mistake I keep making, is I tend to be too trusting, and I want to believe in the absolutely best of my partners, like I don't want to believe that they're lying to me. I don't want to believe that they're being abused by another partner. I want to believe that they know how to protect themselves, and over and over again, the real problems that end up ending my relationships, and that's usually me saying, "No, this is not healthy for you or me so I'm walking away now, even though we may both share love for each other, love is not enough by itself if there are things like other partners abusing you or other partners manipulating your time with other partners, which I don't think is completely fair, but ... I just kind of deal with what I deal with. I think I believe in complete optimism, and I guess maybe I don't really take a clear look at quote-unquote the "not so great things" that could be happening.

PolyRoleModels: Okay. That makes sense, definitely. What self-identities are important to you, and how do you feel like being polyamorous intersects with or affects these identities?

Intimacy: Self-identities. My self-identity recently, in the last year, has been evolving, and the great thing about that was meeting some people at the 2016 Poly Symposium in Dallas, and they were open and honest and very sharing about their gender non-binary, nonconforming journeys, and it felt like part of their stories, they were telling my story, but I didn't know that was my story, I didn't have the wording to frame around it.

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, I know what you mean.

Intimacy: Prior to last year I just always told people, "Oh, I'm just super tomboy." But in the last year, I've really done some really studying with my medical professionals, with other people who are not just cis female or cis male, and talking about different feelings and identifying with some of the same feelings they shared with me, like from the time I was little bitty, like six years old, "I want to play soccer, I don't want to be a cheerleader." I just never was very quote-unquote "girly", but I'm trapped in a girly body, of then that comes with girly expectations from the outside world, and so as far as my gender, for now I feel like Two Spirit's probably the best word to identify.

I have no desire to have surgery, but definitely have never felt as female as my body appears to be, and I think being poly helps me not have to fight the quote-unquote "female gender roles" as much as I felt like I had to fight them in my younger years when I quote-unquote "attempted to be monogamous," but never felt complete in monogamous relationships, always felt like I was dying inside and dim, like I was having to not be my whole full self when I would agree to be monogamous, because I didn't have any other partners at certain points, so one partner would say, "Well, if you're not dating anyone else, why don't we be monogamous?" And I was like, "Okay."

At 40 this year, I will never be monogamous for any relationship. It's not a possibility because it's not who I am. I think being polyamorous allows me to meet other people who are open-minded about other things, not just about relationship styles, and that's so awesome. I feel like when I interact with different polyamorous social circles all over, like France or not just American poly social circles, there's a clear amount of less and less judgment based on gender roles, based on cultural norms, based on my race because I'm of mixed race, I'm Native American, African American, and Irish Anglo-American, and honestly I guess the most judgment I've received is usually from Americans.

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, I can imagine that. Last but not least, do you have any groups, projects, websites, blogs, et cetera, that you are involved with that you'd like to promote?

Intimacy: I have a group and a page under the same name. You can also find me on Twitter, IG, and SnapChat. It's all under Polyamorous Freedom to Love, and for short, my handle is PolyFreeLove, and I just want to continue doing community work, hosting community events to help bring awareness about polyamory and non-monogamous type of relationships that are about ethical honestly and acceptance and just, I guess, obliterating quote-unquote "traditional gender roles."

PolyRoleModels: Nice. Thank you so much for taking the time. Yeah, that's ... I feel like there should be a better ending than that.

Intimacy: Well I appreciate you thanking me, and thank you, I'm so honored to be interviewed and questioned by you. I've been following you for two years now, so-

PolyRoleModels: Wow, really?

Intimacy: It's pretty exciting.

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, that's ... it's still weird to hear. I always feel like no one's listening and then someone's like, "Oh yeah, but I was listening." Yeah. We met at Poly Dallas Millennium, and someone told me a couple hours ago that the reason they went to that same conference was because they read about it in my blog and I was like, "Really? That's ... okay. I'll take it."

Intimacy: Yes, yes, yes, definitely. Yeah, there was a couple people who were there that I recently met at a local polyamorous event, because we have them here in Dallas. There's probably three or four every month, they same event, like we have First Fridays in Dallas ... I'm sorry, we have First Fridays in Ft Worth, Third Fridays in Dallas, and then there's always a DFW Black and Poly group, and they usually have two events a month, and they're usually on Saturdays, and so a handful of people that were at those events, I go to the events just to spread the word about other events, because if you don't get out there and meet people, sitting behind your computer screen you can only meet so many people, and it's not the same as meeting people in person.

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, absolutely.

Intimacy: So yeah, I definitely follow you. I found out about you from a share in the main Black and Poly group.

PolyRoleModels: Okay, yeah, that's ... I don't share all of my stuff there, but most of it these days. There was a point when I was only sharing profiles if it was about someone who was black and poly, but somebody called me out on it, so now I share most of my stuff there.

Intimacy: That's good. I totally agree. I didn't notice that, I wouldn't have called you out on it, but I don't have time to be in that group that often because I run so many other groups-

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, same.

Intimacy: ... But definitely, yeah, don't limit the exposure of what you have to share based on ...

PolyRoleModels: I am a shameful self-promoter. I am by no means shameless. But again, thank you for taking the time. PolyRoleModels appreciates your contribution, and I'll give you a heads-up before I post and all that.

Intimacy: Awesome, thank you, I appreciate it. I look forward to seeing you at other conferences, and maybe we can get together on some other non-monogamous projects sometime.

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, no, absolutely.

Intimacy: Okay, awesome.

PolyRoleModels: I'm trying to exit the full-screen mode so that I can actually ... Ah, this thing.

Intimacy: Usually if you hit the escape button, that usually kills the full screen.

PolyRoleModels: Yeah, one would think, and I would think because I am also one ... Oh, there we go. Yeah, trying to figure out how to-

—

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