#and she wants me to seek out a professional for my own good

[herawell]

.

[drdemonprince]

At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic. 

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things. 

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.” 

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written. 

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.” 

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.” 

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all. 

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work. 

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.” 

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true. 

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up! 

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world. 

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives. 

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment. 

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own. 

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

[mysticheathenn]

Messages From The Art of Not Giving a F*ck

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is all about messages from things that you should not be caring or giving a f*ck about. This could be you having the fear of being seen. What does the world think of you at the gym? Basically, petty things that stop you from living your life.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

Pile l:

What should you not give a f*uck about? Tarot: 8 of Cups, 7 of Wands (reversed), Awakening, 9 of Cups, The High Priestess

The opinions of others concerning any and everything you do. You are meant to shine and show up as your most authentic self pile l. You do not need anyone's permission, advice, or even guidance on knowing who you are or what you should do with your life especially if these people are doing the exact opposite of what they try to preach to you. For some of you, I am getting that there is a family member or even just family in general who likes to dictate everything that you do and who you are. While I can't tell you what to do and can only provide you guidance for your situation, please ask yourself are these people happy? Do they ask anyone what they should do with their life and who they should be? Are they paying any bill of yours or financially supporting you? If you have answered no to any of these questions, my suggestion and only suggestion and opinion is to stop paying attention to anything that comes out of their mouth when it regards to you. I have a story for you once upon a time a little mystic heathen had parents and family who would dictate and tell little heathen what to do up until it got time to actually put their money where their mouth was and would back out while telling little heathen still what to do. Little heathen wanted to major in English while her parents medicine or computer science. It wasn't until little heathen saw that no one was paying the bills but herself that the only opinion that mattered with what she majored in, where to move, what career, and who I should be friends with was the opinion of her own. She broke free and stopped giving a dam because once you give someone the power to mold and control you it never stops. Unless the opinion from others saw red flags that I did not see everyone's opinion or suggestions could fuck off. Again this is all a suggestion and my opinion as you're an adult and can make your decisions for yourself but if you have been looking for a sign as to what you should do, this is it. Be free and release yourself from the holds of others that hold you at a standstill or make you unhappy.

Pile ll:

What should you not give a f*uck about? Tarot: 10 of Pentacles (Reversed), 2 of Cups, Queen of Cups, 5 of Swords (reversed), Knight of Cups, Queen of Wands (reversed)

Validation from romantic partnerships. I get the strong feeling from this pile that you love to watch and read future spouse pick-a-card readings. No matter the topic of love when it comes to tarot you are there waiting to see what it has in store for you. It is also similar to how you are in a relationship. You see the validation from your partners that you are good enough. Some of you might even have a small bit of pick-me energy. Whenever your partner says jump you don't ask how high you keep jumping and ask them if this is good enough and if it's not you keep jumping higher until they are satisfied not realizing that you, darling, are the prize. People should be jumping through hoops for you and not the other way around unless the energy is being reciprocated but I need you to understand that you are powerful just you alone without the opinion or approval of a love interest. You don't need anyone by your side at all. I know you're thinking I know I don't need anyone but I want someone...do you know pile ll. Do you really know that you don't need anyone? You are the Queen of Wands and the Queen of cups pile ll, you turn a house into a home, food into a cooked meal, etc. Anything someone gives you, you multiply it and tax interest and you are out here answering questions like "What do you bring to the table?" as if you aren't the table, the napkins, silverware, plates, and whole packaged deal. See yourself through the lens of a goddess/god. You are powerful, start acting like it, and stop putting yourself through hoops for someone who wouldn't do the same or doesn't even wash their own ass not knowing their shit stinks, they are no one special.

Pile lll:

What should you not give a f*uck about? Tarot: 2 of Cups, 3 of Swords, 6 of Cups, 6 of Pentacles, The Wheel

Pile lll you may have also been slightly drawn to pile ll as both your piles kind of go hand in hand. Pile ll is all about validation from being in a romantic relationship while yours is simply you acting as if being single is the worst thing in the world. As mentioned in Pile ll you probably watch and read a lot of love and Future Spouse pick-a-card readings because you have a hard time being by yourself. If not pick a card readings you read a lot of romance novels. Your favorite authors are probably Emily Henry, Ana Huang, Ali Hazelwood, Lauren Asher, Elsie Silver, etc. You watch as others around you fall in and out of love and you want that for yourself. If romance was oxygen you would die the moment you're not with someone within .5 seconds and I need you to release the need for romance just for a split second. Enjoy singlehood and realize that not everything is about love. There is more to life than being in a partnership with someone. You may not think that but have you tried and I mean really tried to enjoy being single? Travel to other places, dining out alone, watching a movie all without someone constantly talking or ruining the moment with spoilers. This message is only for a small few of you as it is very specific but you need to leave your ex alone. Stop thinking, dreaming, looking at their social media, or even reaching out to them. What's done is done...don't let someone tell you they don't want you more than once. This also goes out to those who are in situationships wanting a relationship from their person. They are telling you with their actions for some time now that they don't like you they just want you for your body and the things you can do for them. You are a placeholder until they find that person they want a commitment from. That was a specific message for those who resonated with the message but to continue on with the general reading love is beautiful, kind, and sweet, but it's not the end of the world if you don't have someone by your side. You are free to live life beautifully without someone else there to witness it. You remind me of the era when everyone would always post that they were going to the gym on Facebook and the meme was "If you don't post that you're at the gym, did you even go." If you have fun without someone being there with you to also have fun...did it even happen. Yes...yes it did pile lll. One day you will find a beautiful and harmonious relationship but until then enjoy singlehood. Also, give the love readings a break. Go outside and touch the grass for 30 mins everything will be fine.

Pile lV:

What should you not give a f*uck about? Tarot: 3 of words, The emperor, Ace of Swords (reversed), Page of Swords (reversed), The Empress (reversed)

Pile lV You are my only pile where I have to tell you to give a f*ck about something. You've been through heartache, after heartache, and loss to the point you have closed off your heart to the world because of how many times you have been hurt. This is leading you down a path where sometimes you can't focus or make the best decision because you have closed off your heart to the world or even love in general that anything where you need to involve feelings, showing a small bit of compassion, or even empathy goes out the window. Sometimes even logic goes out the window because you are so strung on not getting yourself tangled up in anything where it could lead to heartache or betrayal. For most of you I am getting this is a relationship or several might I add. While others of you probably had a shining light. You were a lighthouse pouring your beautiful light, energy, and guidance out onto the world for others to take advantage of you and make you cold, aggressive, or deemed in the eyes of a few, an asshole. I need to remind you that it is okay to open your heart to others or even love again Pile lV. I get it, it's scary thinking about the chances of being hurt again but I have to remind you that, this is part of life. You get knocked down and you get back up again but don't harden yourself off to the world. Not when the world needs so much kindness and love right now. There is already so much hate and lack of compassion in this world, open yourself up again even if it is for a little bit or for certain situations. The things that happened to you weren't meant to harden you up but to teach you lessons about boundaries and having self-respect and love for yourself. Instead, you hardened up instead of doing the work that is necessary to establish standards and boundaries for yourself. Do the work. Open yourself up again. The world needs your kind and gentle heart the way it was always intended.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[marvelstoriesepic]

Ocean’s claim

Pairing: Lifeguard!Bucky x Amateur!Surfer!Reader

Summary: Seeking a thrill, your friend Natasha convinces you to go surfing during stormy weather conditions - a bad idea as you come to experience.

Word Count: 5.9k 🌊 🫧 💧

Warnings: Reader is a non-professional when it comes to surfing; vivid descriptions of near drowning; mentions of death; slight hypothermia

Author's note: Felt like some angst since my last fic was fluff city. (There is still some fluff in it because it’s me) I'm also already taking notes for a possible second part, so if you like this and would like to see some more, please let me know. 🩵

Masterlist

“Nat, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time in the past half hour, voice trembling with urgency.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your heart pounding in your chest as you draw closer to the beach. You barely hear the playful groan of the redhead in front of you over the howl of the wind whipping around you, making your ears ring uncomfortably and your eyes water slightly.

Natasha struts forward, strands of her hair dancing wildly in the gusts, but she doesn’t seem fazed by the worsening weather. She has her surfboard casually tucked under her arm as if it’s just another sunny day at the beach.

“Come on, buzzkill,” she calls back, her voice light, teasing. “This is the perfect time! Nobody out here to hog the waves.” She glances over her shoulder at you, grinning, eyes bright with excitement that only amplifies your anxiety.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your footing steady as a strong gust nearly knocks you off balance. Your own surfboard feels heavy in your arms, the wind tugging at it like it wants to rip it away from you. Grip tightening, the rough texture of the wax sticks against your palms as your fingers dig in, fighting for control.

The wind picks up as you feel the sand underneath.

Glancing at the sky there are dark, doomy clouds over the horizon, swirling like an angry beast ready to pounce. The ocean beneath them churns restlessly. The waves are massive, their white crest crashing unforgivingly against the shore, louder than normal, almost angry.

Jagged shards of shells skitter across the beach like lost treasures and the wind tugs the sand into tiny tornadoes. The beach is deserted, foreboding, and your heart squeezes at the way the waves crash with unruly vigor.

There is a warning in the air, heavy and electric and your body aches to listen. The hair at the back of your neck stands on end. Every instinct in your body is screaming at you to turn around, to leave before it’s too late.

“Nat!” you shout, your voice barely carrying over the deafening whistle of the wind. It comes out almost as a scream, your desperation clawing at your throat as you try to get across how badly this could end.

But Natasha just throws a glance over her shoulder, her face just as bright as moments before - resolute and unfazed - as if the danger you can practically taste doesn’t exist.

“Come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun!” she shouts back, her voice carried away by the wind before it fully reaches you. Her steps quicken as she nears the water, eagerness fueling her, despite the gusts pushing against you two. She’s practically running, buzzing with adrenaline, her surfboard bouncing under her arm as the storm closes in.

It had been Natasha's idea to come out here, of course. She loves chasing a thrill, convincing you that surfing under those weather conditions would help you two get skilled. “No crowds, no waiting, just us and the ocean.” It’s what she said.

Though the ocean doesn’t seem welcoming at all right now.

You knew she would have gone either way. If you agreed or not. That’s basically the only reason you’re here right now, because as reckless as she could be, there was no way you were going to let her walk into danger alone - or her grave as it seems.

You’re not a professional surfer - neither of you are. The two surfboards you’re clutching onto for dear life are borrowed, a generous loan from the instructor who had run the beginner’s surf class just last week. He’d been a laid-back guy, happy to hear you and Natasha were interested in keeping up with the sport.

Unfortunately though, when he let you take the boards, he couldn’t possibly have any idea that you’d be sneaking out to the beach in the middle of an impending storm.

How could he? This is crazy. The wind tears at your clothes forcefully and your stomach churns, knots replacing your insides.

You’re not ready for this. The boards surely aren’t made for such waves - neither are you for that matter. Your experience amounts to a few rides on gentle waves under the perfect conditions. But this? This is something else entirely.

You watch in dread as Nat wades into the water. She pauses briefly to recheck the leash wrapped around her ankle, the heavy surfboard snug against her body. Your heart races as you hold your breath, bracing yourself for what comes next.

For a fleeting moment, you survey the beach again, hoping against hope to spot someone, anyone, who might help knock some sense into her, to pull her back from the brink of this reckless decision.

The stretch of sand is empty save for the lifeguard’s wooden stand in the distance, its white rescue board secured to the side. You squint, trying to make out if there is someone inside, but the fog of the approaching storm blurs everything, and it’s impossible to tell. Even if there is someone, you’re sure he’d have difficulty to even catch sight of you and it’s too far to run.

You turn back toward the water but the second your eyes meet the rolling waves, a stone lodges in your throat, pushing your heart to the depths of your body. Panic flares up inside you.

She’s gone.

The spot where Natasha was just moments ago is empty, swallowed by the towering swells. The dark water rises and falls, chaotic and aggressive, and your friend is nowhere in sight. Terror seizes you, cold and sharp, tightening your chest as your mind boils over.

The ocean looks so alive, merciless, and indifferent, pulling her deeper, under, with every second that passes.

“Natasha!” you scream, voice raw with fear.

Your body moves before your mind can tell you otherwise, and there is no longer hesitation, no second-guessing as you run to the shoreline. Your legs pump through the sand, lungs protesting and you fight against the force of the wind with everything you have. It feels almost personal.

The freezing cold instantly numbs your legs as your body hits the water. You charge forward, the surf breaking against your thighs. The water threatens to knock you down with each shaky breath but you push deeper, ignoring the icy shock and the way the current pulls at you, fighting your balance.

Blood rushes in your ears, your heart hammering so loudly that it drowns out the roar of the ocean for a second.

Every pulse of the water feels like a living force, hurling you in every direction, a relentless barrage that leaves you gasping for control. The waves slam against you from all sides, tossing you like a leaf caught in a storm.

You grit your teeth, trying to remember what your instructor had taught you. “Don’t fight the waves, use them, move with the water. It’s your friend, not your enemy.”

Well, fuck that, because friendly feels different.

You try to stay calm, arms trembling as you cling to the board, the slick surface cold and uncomfortable under your fingertips.

With a desperate effort, you manage to stay on the board long enough to scream Natasha's name again, your voice strained and choked by the salty wind. Just then, another monstrous wave smashes into you, enveloping you in a wall of water. You’re plunged into darkness, swallowed whole by the chaos, and for a disorienting moment, this doesn’t even feel real anymore.

But then your head breaks the surface again and you gasp for a breath, lungs burning. You clutch the board with a grip so tight it sends sharp stings all the way to your fingertips. The rough surface digs into your palms but you’d be damned if you let go of that thing.

With every ounce of strength you can muster, Natasha’s name leaves your lips again but the sound is ripped away almost as soon as it leaves your throat, swallowed by the howling wind and the whizz of the waves. It feels like screaming into a void, hopeless and hollow.

Then another wave slams into you - so hard, you feel the entire impact - and you’re under again.

Cold water surrounds you, suffocating your head. Your vision is nothing but an unfocused blur and salt stings in your eyes. All sense of direction is once again lost on you, your body twisting in the currents. You feel like a ragdoll, losing all control you have.

Each wave drags you further from the shore, further from safety, and the cold grip of despair tightens around your heart.

Breaking the surface, you gasp like you’ve never breathed before. Each gulp of air is a frantic, panicked effort as if the wind might steal it from you at any second. Each breath that follows fills your body with urgency, littered with the stifling sensation of the sea.

A few waves and more salty water later, you manage to regain some sense of balance, moving back up on your board and scanning the horizon, head whipping around hastily and eyes wide. You would be proud of the second of control you have but your heart sinks lower the longer the water lacks any sign of her.

The panic spreads like ice, the cold seeping into your bones, but the fear for yourself and your best friend burns hot.

You try to focus, to do what you’ve been taught - stay on the board, ride the wave, don’t let it pull you under - but it feels like a losing battle.

Another wave crashes and saltwater fills your mouth and lungs, scorching your throat, gurgling with every ragged breath. You’re still on the board. That’s a surprise you let sink in for a moment.

A voice cuts through the storm - Nat’s. Desperate and terrified. Your name. It sounds like it’s coming from the shore, but it feels impossibly distant like she’s miles away instead of just down the beach.

The realization hits you like a crash with as much power as the waves around you. How far off are you? You twist your neck to look toward the beach, but the looming waves obscure your view, and the horizon is just a blur of grey, indistinguishable from the sea itself.

You have no idea how far you’ve drifted, but it feels like the beach might as well be a world away.

You scream back desperately. This isn’t just fear anymore. It’s a raw, primal terror that digs into the fabric of your being, knitting utter despair tightly with the frantic rhythm of your heart. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever known - this paralyzing panic that roots itself deep inside your bones.

It’s the kind of fear you always imagined would come with the knowledge that death would follow. That slow, creeping certainty that there is no way out, no escape. It wraps around you like the icy water that threatens to pull you under and your clothes that cling to you pressingly, only weighing you down.

You’ve heard of drowning, read about it, seen it on TV, but never once did you think it would happen to you. Not like this. But is this how it ends? The thought flashes through your mind, bitter and cruel. You never envisioned going out this way - suffocated by the ocean, your last breath stolen by the waves.

Sometimes, you’d like to imagine that drowning would be a quiet, perhaps even peaceful descent into darkness. But this is a cacophony, a battle of breath and will, a struggle against an unforgiving beast that demands tribute.

Drowning isn’t an elegant surrender. It’s ruthless and visceral and you’re defenseless in the face of its power.

You cling to the surfboard as if it's the only thing tethering you to life, your muscles blaring in protest as the water laps at you greedily, eager to pull you under, to claim you as its own.

The water is relentless, an unfeeling, unstoppable force. It doesn’t care about your fear, your pain, your will to live. It just keeps coming, wave after wave, crashing into you with a ferocity that feels almost personal.

Your strength is ebbing, but the sea shows no sign of slowing. It’s a living thing, testing your resolve. It’s waiting for the moment when you will lose your grip, when the board will slip from your fingers, when the leash that binds you to it will snap, and you will be claimed.

The dark water beckons, yawning wide, promising oblivion - a cold quiet grave beneath the surface where you would lie, not as a person, but as a forgotten droplet, swallowed by the depths. Because that’s all you are - a speck; a drop of water in its vast, uncaring expanse. The thought terrifies you. The image that the sea will take you and forget you in the same breath.

There is tightness in your throat, a swelling of emotion so overwhelming it feels as if the ocean itself has seeped into your heart. You can’t tell if the salty water on your face is mingling with your tears, can’t tell if you’re actually crying.

You feel like you’re unraveling, piece by piece, your strength, your hope, your very sense of self slipping away with every wave.

Perhaps the water has already masked your sorrow, each rush of water a reminder of your frailty - the fight for one more breath, one more heartbeat.

Numbness creeps through your limbs, a heavy fog settling over your consciousness. It’s strange how empty you begin to feel, devoid of sensation. Not just your body, though that too is beginning to lose its fight against the cold, the chill sinking deeper into you, making it harder to move, harder to care.

But there is a nothingness inside you, like part of you has already accepted what’s coming - an abyss that waits with patient malice and a gaping mouth.

You fight it. Of course, you do, but in the back of your mind, a small voice whispers that it’s only a matter of time. The sea is stronger than you, more patient. It’ll wait for you to falter, to let go, and then it will take you.

There are more wails and screams coming from the shore, all faint and distant. They became as constant as the waves around you. Though the deeper you are engulfed in the surf, the fainter the screaming feels, slipping away like grains of sand between your fingers desperately reaching out for solid ground.

For a moment you imagine letting go. Letting the deep, dark silence of the ocean swallow you, pulling you down to its unreachable and endless depths. A cold, quiet grave, the kind you never expected but that now feels so close you can feel it on your tongue.

Another towering wave rises before you like a mountain, its treacherous crest poised to unleash its ferocity. In a single, brutal shove, it hurls you from the board, and for a heartbeat you’re airborne, a marionette cut from its strings, suspended in an agonizing moment of uncertainty.

But something deep within you ignites, a primal need - a will to live - stronger than anything you’ve ever felt and it pulls you to the surface and up the board again with a strength you didn’t know you had left.

You gasp for air and every single part of your body wants reprieve, but your mind sharpens with a clarity that sears through the chaos. You won’t let the ocean take you. You need to find Nat.

Determination fills your veins like fire and you whip your head around to pinpoint where her relentless screams come from. Her cries, frenzied and panic-stricken, echo from everywhere suddenly, piercing through the tumult like a siren’s wail.

But as you strain against the tide, attempting to hear her better, something halts you for a dangerous moment.

It’s not just Natasha’s voice.

There’s another voice, calm and steady, weaving through her frantic cries, almost soothing in its cadence. The words are impossible to make out over the sound of the storm, but you can tell it’s a man. He’s speaking to her, perhaps trying to calm her down.

You don’t have time to process that before something else grips your attention. A third voice; deep, more resonant - another man - drifts in and out between the wafting waves. It’s closer, much closer than the others.

Your heart pounds so loudly, you can hear it over the storm. You strain your ears, desperate to catch that voice again, to make sense of it, but the wind tears the sound away before you can latch onto it.

With every ounce of focus you can muster, you whip your head around frantically, eyes scanning the water, and then you see it. A flash of white, cutting through the churning grey of the sea. A board?

Your breath catches.

Nat’s board is blue. Yours is still beneath you. The only white board you’ve seen was back on the beach, strapped to the lifeguard’s post.

Could it be?

Is your mind playing tricks on you? Are you that far gone?

But then it appears again. A flash of white and then red between the flooding currents, coming closer to you.

Hope flickers in your chest, fragile but bright. You squint your eyes, willing that shape to appear again, your heart racing in anticipation. But the sea remains relentless, making it impossible to get a clear view.

Your concentration costs you.

The next wave blindsides you, slamming into you with a blow that knocks the breath from your lungs. You yelp in shock as the water swallows you whole again, dragging you down beneath its unforgiving surface once more.

Your body tumbles, twisted by the current, and for a moment, you’re lost in the dark, cold world beneath the waves.

You are weightless. The ocean’s embrace is absolute. You can’t tell where the surface is anymore, can’t feel which way is up or down. Yet, there is that voice again. It’s blurred by the water filling your ears but it seems to surround you.

An urgent shout, muffled and distorted, yet oddly comforting, like it’s reaching through the water just for you. You can’t make out any words, but the tone is strong and deep, cutting through your panic, grounding you for just a moment.

You feel the leash around your ankle tugging, pulling you as your board drifts with the current, but you no longer have the strength to reach for it. You let it pull you along, your limbs flailing uselessly in the water.

Your body is beyond exhausted, each muscle burning with fatigue, your arms and legs barely responding to your desperate attempts to swim. You’re too drained to fight anymore. You feel the air still trapped in your lungs, but your body’s energy is slipping.

Slowly, you let your eyes fall closed and everything blurs. The only thing in focus is that voice. It almost seems like a part of the water, surrounding you, enveloping you. You want to hold onto it, but you’re so tired.

Then, suddenly there is a slight splash nearby - different from the waves. It cuts through the water like a jolt, a ripple of something deliberate. For the first time, you think you might know where the surface is.

Before you can do anything to react, a firm hand clamps onto your arm.

The grip is solid, unwavering, and with a sharp pull, you’re yanked upwards, your body dragged through the water with a sturdiness you couldn’t summon on your own.

Another hand grasps your other arm, and now you’re being lifted, hauled out of the water, breaking the surface.

Your body moves limply, like it’s no longer your own, the weight of exhaustion too much to fight.

Air hits your face, cold and bracing and you feel your lungs expand in relief of it. The sound of the ocean and the wind rushes back into your ears as you’re pulled up onto something hard - a board beneath you.

The tug on your ankle leaves you but you don’t have it in you to question it. Panic ebbs as more air floods into your chest, aching and yet so sweet. You feel the warmth of skin at your back, around your body, keeping you from slipping back under.

But you’re too weak to open your eyes. Too drained to look back at your savior, to see who has pulled you from the water’s grasp. You can only feel the firm grip, the solid presence behind you, and the way the board keeps you afloat.

The world feels so distant, the sounds around you muffled, your body so heavy it’s almost like you’re still submerged.

Fingers are pressing down on your wrist, as steady as the rest of him, perhaps feeling your pulse or just to balance you.

A thought strikes through your weak frame, igniting a flicker of energy fueled by adrenaline. Natasha. Worry surges within you. Is she even safe? Sure, you’ve heard those voices but what do they really convey?

With a sudden burst of resolve, you push away from the muscled body behind you, choking on the saltwater that clings to your lungs, gasping wildly for breath, your throat feeling like sandpaper.

A sharp exhale of relief sounds out from your rescuer, his grip loosening just enough to give you the space you need to find your breath, but your focus is somewhere else entirely.

“Thank god,” he mutters under his breath, but you don’t even register it.

“Nat!” you rasp out, voice trembling and barely more than a croak. “Where is she?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him, yourself, or pleading with the vindictive ocean still around you. The question is ripped from your chest with a feral need to know. She has to be okay.

“Hey,” your savior tries but you shake your head fervently, panic closing in and you snap your head around for a glimpse of her, only feeling his arm tighten around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“You need to get Natasha! She’s somewhere out there, she-”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, his tone firmer and louder by your ear, yet still soothing and gentle, and you let it ground you for a second just like in the water moments earlier.

“Your friend’s alright. She’s safe. Sam is looking out for her,” he sweetly explains to you, his thumb brushing tender circles against your arm while his other arm works to maneuver you two back to the beach.

You barely hear him, your gaze still flickering across the waves, but then he turns your head gently. “There, look.”

He nods to the shoreline that’s slowly coming into view. There, through the haze of wind and saltwater, you see her. Natasha is waving frantically, her face pale as a ghost, her mouth moving as she shouts something. Her voice is hoarse, barely audible.

Next to her stands a tall, dark-skinned man, his arm securely around her shoulders, making sure the blanket wrapped around her stays in place at her distressed movements. He is speaking to her in low tones, his hands rubbing warmth into her skin.

She looks wild with fear, the strands of her hair looking dark as they are pressed to the sides of her head. And she is shaking. But she is visibly safe.

Relief crashes into you like another wave, but this time, it doesn’t knock you down. Instead, it lets you breathe again. The tension in your chest that had kept you moving and looking for her, releases. Your body grows heavy, muscles giving in to the exhaustion that had been building since you hit the water.

Your body slumps back against the chest behind you, and you feel the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing. He only tightens his arm around you, pulling you closer, letting you breathe in his warmth.

Your head rests against a sturdy shoulder, your cheek brushing his wet vest. And for the first time since you entered the water, you feel safe.

As you reach the shore, your body betrays you. A violent shiver takes over, teeth clattering uncontrollably, as the wind continues to bite into your soaked skin. But all you can focus on is Nat’s words finally reaching your ears.

“Y/n!” she screams, her voice cracking with emotion. “Oh my god, Y/n!”

You’re barely aware of the man behind you guiding you up to your feet, now both of his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as you stumble forward.

The ground beneath you feels wobbly, the world still swaying like you’re trapped in the rhythm of the waves, but his unyielding grip keeps you from collapsing.

Natasha breaks away from Sam, or at least you assume that’s who he must be, and runs toward you with so much hurry, you’re scared she might knock you over. But again, the strong presence behind you balances your wavering body as she crashes into you.

Her arms sling around you in a tight embrace that makes you forget about your current situation for a second. You feel her sobs against your chest as she pulls back just enough to look at you, her tear-streaked face filled with regret and agony.

“I’m so sorry,” she chokes out, her hands gripping your shoulders, afraid to let go. “God, Y/n, I’m so sorry!”

You try to shake your head, to give her some semblance of reassurance, but your face is too numb, muscles too drained to manage more than a faint twitch of your lips. “It’s okay,” you whisper.

But Nat shakes her head so fast, it overwhelms you, her eyes wide. “No, it’s not okay. Don’t say that. It’s not.” her voice cracks and you see the guilt warring in her eyes. “I should’ve never asked you to come with me. I should’ve never done this. Fuck, I’m so stupid.”

This time, you’re able to shake your head with more conviction, pulling strength from the man’s touch at your back. “Stop, okay? Please!” you ask, your voice more certain. “I’m just… I’m just glad you’re okay.”You offer her a real smile, though your lips tremble from more than just the cold.

Natasha curses under her breath, shaking hands pulling you into another tight hug. You close your eyes, sinking into her.

You hug for what feels like an eternity, her grip never loosening, and you realize your rescuer doesn’t even attempt to leave your side. At some point, he drapes a warm blanket over your shoulders, which Sam must have given him, and the slight weight of it makes you blink, pulling you back to reality.

The shivers don’t stop, but it’s a comfort to feel the warmth seep into your skin.

When you finally pull back from Nat, strong arms immediately wrap the blanket all around you from behind, his hands unshakable as he rubs in the warmth of it. Sam returns Natasha’s blanket over her own shoulders and you watch the curt nod he shares with the man behind you, a silent acknowledgment that everything went well.

You don’t make a move to do anything, mind still a hazy maze, exhaustion heavily wearing down on you, so you’re thankful to hear the gentle voice again near your ear. “Let’s get you warm, yeah?”

All you do is nod, but it seems to be enough and you let him guide you to the wooden lifeguard post down the beach. Wind is still whipping around you, but you don’t register that anymore.

He gently walks you up the ramp and you notice the missing white rescue board, the one he used to pull you from the water. Another shiver whacks your spine.

He pushes open the door and you step into a small room that seems to be well-organized. The air inside feels warmer, a welcome change from the biting cold you had been under way too long, though it still carries that smell of salt.

There is a wooden bench in front of you with a neat stack of folded towels and blankets in bright red and yellow. He sits you down, layering the blanket over yourself so it is completely enveloping your shivering frame.

He kneels in front of you, moving slowly and deliberately, as if careful not to startle you too much too soon. His presence is calming and you don’t shy away at the intense way he searches your features, the soft expression he wears soothing your aching muscles.

The warmth that radiates from him makes your heart flutter in a way you don’t quite expect.

“Is it okay if I ask you a few questions? Have to make sure everything’s alright.”

His voice. God, you love his voice. There is that slight rasp in it and a boyishness that makes it so soothing, so grounding. It’s as enveloping as the blanket that already surrounds you.

He only makes you feel reassured, and the quiet curve of your lips turns into a small smile as you nod in agreement. His gaze sweeps over your face, checking for any signs of pain, discomfort, or lingering fear. The way he studies you is careful, but not invasive.

“Alright,” he whispers, blue eyes not leaving your face. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

You can’t help the stretch of your smile at the almost bashful way he runs his fingers through his tousled and slightly wet hair. It’s endearing, considering the fact that he just saved your life. The confidence and the sureness he carried while saving you from the water seem to melt into quiet humility now that you’re safe.

You tell him your name and age after he asks. Watching his facial reactions to your words feels so calming, it’s all you can do to slow your heart rate down a notch and stop the involuntary shaking of your body.

There is a small tug at his eyebrows, and a frown threatens to overcome his features, revealing a hint of underlying worry and he keeps drifting his eyes over you, watching the way your shoulders are still shaking.

A little hesitantly he moves his hands up to your knees and rubs the blanket over them softly, hoping to warm up your legs.

“Are you feeling okay? Do you have any trouble breathing? Anything that hurts?” The concern you see on his face is evident in his voice as well and a swell of warmth rises within you, spreading through your body. You relish it.

Sam, who attends to Natasha a foot away, raises an eyebrow in Bucky’s direction, a question in his eyes, but teasing in his smirk.

“Normally, you wait for your patient to answer, before moving on to the next question man,” he chimes in with playful sarcasm. He looks up to you for a second before his gaze moves back to Bucky.

Bucky straightens up before you, the teasing from Sam seemingly lost on him as he clenched his jaw. His face flushes slightly and he looks down at his hands, still gently rubbing circles on your knees. “Yeah, right,” he mutters under his breath, but you pick it up.

A small giggle rises in your stomach and you let it pass, coming out a little breathless and weak, but genuine enough for Bucky’s head to snap back up. His eyes soften, a sparkle shining in them you are able to make out because you watch him so intensely. A smile brightens his face and his momentary embarrassment is lost.

You answer Bucky’s questions one by one, recalling the disorienting moments of your rescue after he almost hesitantly asks you to do so. His hands still soothingly rub your knees.

Bucky listens intently, his eyes never leaving your face, nodding softly at your words. You see him trying his best to remain calm but you notice the tension in his stance, the tick in his jaw, and the slight frown never leaves his face - the weight of his concern lingering in the air.

Sam, who has been standing nearby, leans in slightly. “Gave us a pretty good scare there, sugar.” His tone is light, clearly trying to cut through the tension with a bit of humor, but the moment the words leave his mouth, Bucky’s head snaps up. His gaze hardens drastically as he shoots Sam a sharp look, his voice laced with frustration and irritation.

“Now imagine how she must feel, you fucking idiot.”

His tone catches you off guard. It’s the first time Bucky’s words carry an edge, so different from the gentleness he’s shown you since. Sam raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, licking his lips as he tilts his head slightly.

“Alright, grumpy pants, my bad. You’re right,” he concedes. His demeanor shifts and he becomes more serious, sincere as he steps closer, crouching down to your height and laying a hand on your shoulder. “No, but really,” he says with a nod of his head, “I’m glad you’re okay.” His words hold weight, and the smile he gives you is genuine, toothy even.

You offer him a smile in return, and Sam nods back, satisfied. You can feel Bucky’s gaze still on you, but it’s Nat’s soft, broken voice that cuts through the moment.

“It’s my fault this happened,” she whispers, barely audible. She is hovering nearby, her eyes red and swollen, shoulders hunched under the weight of guilt and her fingers fidget with the edge of the blanket. Her words hang heavy in the air, filled with regret and self-blame.

You react immediately, not letting her fall into that pit of guilt. “Nat!” you say firmly, facing her. “It was my decision to come along.”

Your best friend looks almost childlike in her distress, eyes glistening again with unshed tears. “You came along because you didn’t want me to go alone,” she counters, voice thick. “You and I both know I would have gone without you. I basically pressured you to follow me because I knew you would. You always just want to make sure I’m safe and now-”

Natasha’s voice falters, the words catching in her throat before a heart-wrenching sob leaves her. The sound pierces your chest, and you can’t handle it longer, feeling tears sting behind your eyes.

Without thinking, you push yourself up from the bench, your legs shaky but driven by the need to embrace her. Bucky, still kneeling before the bench, opens his mouth as if to protest, clearly concerned for your state.

You’re sure he was about to remind you that you should be sitting down, but the urgency in your movement stops him.

Nat clings to you immediately, her fingers gripping the blanket around you, sobs muffled into your shoulder. You start to gently shush her, whispering words of comfort as her body trembles in your arms.

You basically feel Bucky and Sam share a meaningful look behind your back.

Sam clears his throat softly, not wanting to intrude on the fragile moment. “Hey,” he says quietly, his voice gentle. “You two are going to be okay.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything but you can feel his quiet support behind you, like ever since he saved you.

“To feel safe around someone's energy is a different kind of intimacy”

- Petra Rush

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

20 minutes of my life I'll never get back. 🤦‍♂️

I must be a glutton for punishment because I actually watched Kinsey Schofield's 20 min interview w/Valentine Low. May this rant save you from making the same mistake:

Valentine Low & Kinsey Schofield just reminded me that the British press is in desperate need of a grief recovery workshop to let go of their palace manufactured PR image of Sparry, "the CONSERVATIONIST," and accept the REALITY: Sparry has ALWAYS been a member of the lost boys who never intend to grow up. He loves drugs, perverted soho house sex play pens, and living a secret lifestyle in San Francisco, CA. As we saw in the South Park Documentary, Sparry has always wanted to be left alone so he can just bang on his drums all day.

The British media needs to accept that they never knew the Sparry aka Prince Harry. Much like Fergie & Andrew: The Meghans are two (2) intellectually below average individuals who married in haste. Both their academic & professional work histories indicate that these two (2) immature adults, lack even the basic skills necessary to function in society without the help of a PR "machine" whose job is to clean up their messes and repeatedly rebrand them into more acceptable members of polite society. It's past time for Valentine Low and other UK journalists to admit that they never really knew Sparry. All their Diana goodwill should now be invested into the future of the BRF (the family of Prince William)

No amount of hoping for the best or "covering up" for Sparry's misdeeds can transform the moral rot in his character. They bought and sold the PR image manufactured by the palace. It was the paparazzi & other "undesirables" who had the misfortune of observing the REAL Sparry. They watched him mistreat drivers, security, staffers, etc long BEFORE he was seduced by MEgain.

V Low believes Sparry flew a helicopter! 😳 Come on! Too many REAL service members have spoken out about Sparry's military character and performance and there's nothing good about it.

Sparry, like his wife is also a liar and a bully. He's not intellectually bright, he never was... He even bullied his grandparents before the "spectacle," he bullied Meghan's father...we heard reports about seeking a left wing wife and his interest in living in the US----all before MEgain.

Low also thinks Sparry loves his children. Has Valentine Low ever seen the invisibles? No. He's transferred a PR image to a couple of never before seen kids and their so called father. A so-called "father" who is willing to destroy his brother's children (and the innocent children of other couples) through the spread of destructive lies, has zero interest in the REAL wellbeing of anyone's kids, least of all his own.

As for the Wife: her ability to earn a college degree as an American teenager/young adult without even the offer of an ACADEMIC scholarship means that she too is mediocre and overrated. Her university commencement program states that she was a candidate for a degree in "communications" NOT some whip smart area of study like biochemistry or engineering! 🤦‍♂️

As a university student, thanks to her dad's brother (mike), she spent a measly six (6) weeks in Argentina on an exchange program (paid by her father) until she failed an exam that would have allowed her to apply for (real) jobs in the States. An intellectual or any hard worker would have studied until she passed the test. Not Rachel Meghan Markle. If no one was willing to make an exception for her low marks, then she would whore her way up a series of ladders until she found someone dumb enough to give her a platform.

No, this is NOT a "smart" couple. This couple is a cautionary tale about how Water seeks it's own level: Sparry's mother and teachers did him a disservice, just as MEgain's father did her a disservice: SPARE the rod & SPOIL the child

Kinsey believes that MEgain is "smart" because she achieved a Duchess title. (What does this tell us about Kinsey's IQ. 🤦‍♂️😳)

MEgain became a "Duchess" because she was a professional "seductress" employeed by Markus Anderson & Soho House. Everything this couple achieves is smoke & mirrors based on TRANSACTIONAL relationships where they bully & harass anyone standing in their way.

They don't even possess good work ethics, let alone above average IQs. Please call a spade a spade (or in this case a spare a spare) and stop gaslighting the public about what Sparry could have done had he not been involved with the wife.

We watched the wife verbally abuse KP staffers over bereavement flowers and feckless Sparry stood by in AGREEMENT. Wicked queen Jezebel 2.0 and traitorous king ahab 2.0. Let them go!

[raventao]

DCxDP idea

What if ...

Reveal gone wrong, Danny and Dani are discovered by Jack and Maddie who react badly, to say the least. They expirament on them for a weekend (Jazz was gone and they wanted to be done before she got home. Obviously they wouldn't want to upset their daughter with confronting her with the knowledge that Danny was dead, had veen for a wbile now, and that Phantom had killed him and was wearing his body like a meat puppet.) Before they literally sell them off to the GIW. Vlad and Team Phantom don't find out about this until it's too late and aren't able to break them out. They try anyway, of course, but Vlad isn't even able to get on the premises due to a ghost shield, and Team Phantom is just liminal enough to ping the alarm despite being human enough to get past the shield. They all get captured as well. No one knew where they were, and the GIW denies Mayor Master's claims that the kids were being held by them.

Out of options, Vlad makes a call. He's going to fix this properly his way. It takes a week of back and forth and several bribes all over the east coast, but Vlad has finally found what he's looking for. It takes considerably less effort to set up a meeting with Deathstroke than it took to seek him out, but now that he has his attention, he places two folders in front of him. "I have two jobs for you. One is more time sensitive than the other, but both do need to be taken care of immediately should you accept." He states seriously. Inside one folder are two pictures and a small dossier on both Drs Fenton. Inside the other is everything he and Technus had been able to dig up on the GIW, the facility they were keeping the kids in, and the Anti-Ecto acts as background for why the government thought they could commit the atrocities Vlad knew they were deep inside the compound. There is also a small list in the back of the folder: Daniel Fenton, Jasmine Fenton, Samantha Manson, Tucker Foley, Danielle Masters, and Valerie Gray.

"I want the Doctors Fenton dead. I don't care how. Preferably slowly and painfully, but I am aware that could take time away from the other job." Vlad says, tapping the second folder. "This is a government facility, one that has stolen my daughter, my godchildren, and their friends. I want it, the ground it stands on, and all of the agents inside it razed to bedrock. Not even ash or bones left." He seeths.

"Rescue missions seem more like a professional hero's scene." Slade muses flatly. "Have you considered the Juatice League?"

"Heros won't kill these bastards, and prison is too good for them. My daughter, Danielle, is likely already dead by their hands. She was already only tentitvly stable before the Fenton's expiramented on her, and I doubt the GIW have been treating her any better. I will be damned to the burning lake of fire before I let Daniel and Jasmine meet the same fate. I will pay whatever I must to ensure my children be returned to me alive. Their friends too, I suppose. I would never hear the end of it if I left them. Daniel might even try to go back in for them, even at the risk of his own life. Just name your price, money is no object." Vlad argues back.

[alexusonfire]

Old Wounds, New Dances

Larissa Weems x teacher!Reader

A/n: My heart always cracks a little at Weems' face when she recalls her own Rave'n; thought a little dance to cheer her up was in order 🤗 Came up with this during the scene when Wednesday confronts Tyler at the Rave'n, and this song is playing in the background. Hope y'all enjoy!

"Larissa?"

You'd seen her disappear into the little alcove off the side of the Great Hall, having kept somewhat of an eye on her all night. She looked beautiful, her hair twisted up elegantly, silver dress hugging her in all the right curves; you'd tried not to stare, but whilst her gaze was fixed elsewhere you couldn't help but admire her for a few seconds more. She'd greeted you cheerily when you entered the dance, and you didn't miss the way her eyes flicked down your body before giving her most professional smile and wishing you a fun evening.

Now, tucked away from the flashing lights and booming music, she seemed softer, an air of wistful melancholy hanging over her. You slowly approached her, catching her gaze before continuing.

"Are you alright?"

She gave you a sad smile, ducking her head for a moment before regaining her composure, straightening her shoulders back and clasping her hands in front of her.

"I'm fine. Needed a moment is all. Are you enjoying yourself?"

You could tell there was more to it, and you had a sneaking suspiscion it had to do with the conversation you'd overheard between her and Marilyn earlier; your heart had sunk upon hearing of Larissa's own devastating Rave'n experience. Admittedly it confused you, how someone could so easily reject the stunning woman in front of you, even all those years ago.

"I am. It's nice to see the students so excited, especially after the Outreach incident."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it."

Her fingers began to twitch, as they often did when something was on her mind. You knew you should probably just leave her to it, give her the space she had obviously been seeking out, but her face when recalling her rejected youth flashed through your mind again and you were overcome with the urge to comfort her.

"I probably shouldn't say, but I overheard your conversation with Miss Thornhill earlier. Whoever that boy was, he was clearly blind, stupid, or both, and missed out on a wonderful opportunity."

At that she laughed, a real laugh, and it made your heart soar to see her shoulders relax and a pretty blush creep up her neck.

"Thank you dear. Truthfully I wonder if it's the boy himself who upsets me still or simply the teenage angst I suffered. I suppose neither matter now though do they?"

You nodded in agreement, a slow song floating through the entryway giving you an idea. With her eyes twinkling down at you, you felt the air rush from your lungs before finding the words to the question you'd wanted to ask since you first laid eyes on that damn dress of hers.

"Would... would you like to dance Larissa?"

Her eyes widened for a moment, and you prepared for her to politely refuse, perhaps even ask you to leave her be once and for all-

"Yes."

It was quiet, so timid you nearly missed it. You blinked once, twice, then shook yourself back to reality. Slowly you reached out to grab her hand, placing it on your shoulder before sliding yours onto her lower back. She bit her lip (nearly sending you toppling to the floor) and pulled you slightly closer as you began to sway to the music. At first it was somewhat awkward, needing to adjust your steps a couple of times and neither of you being used to such physical closeness, but you got the hang of it, relaxing into eachother's embrace and enjoying the small bubble of peace...

Until a couple of students started giggling behind you.

"Awe, you guys are so cute together!!"

Larissa fixed her most serious glare onto the group of girls, but that only seemed to encourage them, the giggles growing louder as they pushed eachother back out to the dance.

"I told you Ms. Weems liked her!" one exclaimed to the other in a not-so-quiet whisper as they left, the girls tittering amongst themselves at the idea. You couldn't help but chuckle yourself, remembering how you used to pair up the teachers in your school days too.

"Well... they aren't... wrong I suppose."

You looked up at her, surprised by her statement. She attempted to pull back, but you tightened your grip on her waist ever so slightly, willing her to stay.

"I... I like you too Larissa. Quite a bit actually. And um... if you're up to it, I'd like to take you out for dinner sometime. On a date. If you'd want to, that is-"

Larissa laughed at your rambling, finding it rather endearing, and silenced it with a kiss to your cheek and a squeeze of your hand.

"I look forward to it. Now, shall we finish our dance before facing the rumors I'm certain are already spreading amongst the students?"

It was your turn to laugh, and you simply nodded in agreement. You dared to pull her flush to you, her head tilting with a flirtatious smirk as you started to sway once more. As you lost yourself in her sapphire gaze, her body heat mingling with yours and her sweet perfume the only thing you could focus on, she encompassed every sense you had in the most delicious and delightful way.

Indeed what an utter fool, that mystery boy was, to have passed up on this.

[scvcnmore]

†Hidden Washington Event 18 Plot/Starter Call!†

¡Hola mi gente!

This is a quick starter call, with some info about what the clowns will be up to and some potential plots tossed in. Apologies in advance, this is my best attempt at 'keeping it simple'. There is currently no cap of requests per mun, and the cap on starters is something I'm flexible on if you really happen to want one form a specific loser lol If there happens to be something that isn't explicitly listed here, but you feel any of my muses would be able to fit for a plot you've got in mind for yours, by all means feel free to let me know! My DMs here and on discord are always open <3

Olivia Benson † She/Her † Law and Order: SVU † 35 † Unaware † 3/3:

Aware of a change to the city

As if the coming to terms with the fact that your entire life, as you remember it, may all be lie wasn't hard enough on its own, let's add sudden change in venue to the existential crisis. Ever the consummate professional, though, Liv has been quick to pivot and shift her focus to adapting to the current environment, making sure she's still more than capable of carrying out her duties, and doing her best to ensure that friends and family -both 'believed' to be true and those recently re-discovered- are and remain safe

Sheriff

Potential plots/connections: fellow lawmen, fellow folks aware of the sudden change, faux-life friends and family (I know that one's not really even specific, but it could be something interesting to play with in the new setting)

Eisa Rigel † She/Her † Star Wars(OC) † 34 † Unaware † 2/3:

Unaware of a change to the city

As far as Eisa is concerned, this is the Queendom that's been a part of her entire life. An orphan, she once used her 'abilities' to help out an ailing knight, and in return he took her in as a page and his personal squire. Her training held the added burden of also ensuring the same abilities that earned her a home, stayed secret from any other soul. The 'flip' on her personality now being the more emotionally detached one of her and her twin from being unaware has translated over

Knight

Potential plots/connections: fellow knights, a squire nearing their own knighthood, another force user or anyone with powers in general they share their secret with

Viktor Hargreeves † He/HIm † The Umbrella Academy † 30 † Unaware † 5/3:

Unaware of a change to the city

He's been able to remain just a lil guy, running a place where people come to have a good time, and still depending on borderline-toxic positivity to keep whatever curse he's been born with in check. If he can keep his own powers hidden, he can continue to use the tavern as a front, while providing a safe-haven for other powered individuals that might be seeking help

Tavern Keeper

Potential plots/connections: regular patrons of the tavern, merchants he has business with, powered people in his inner circle that help with the tavern's 'underground'

Helena Kyle † She/Her † Birds of Prey '02/DC Comics † 28 † Aware † 3/3:

Aware of a change to the city

Currently really wishing she could be ignorant to any other life, because knowing there's an alternative just peeves her off even more that she's stuck in this one right now. She's apparently inherited the title of Marquise after the passing of both parents, and while Hel's found it easier to just play the part during the day, at night she's taken to slipping past her small guard and taking back to the streets to play the outlaw. It's a bit harder to keep the ruse of prim and proper Marquise while not getting caught as the true face behind the masked face on a few wanted posters

Marquise/Secret Outlaw

Potential plots/connections: other nobility they'd know by virtue of station, friends -noble or not- that are a bit more aware of their actual disdain for their position, someone they'd have helped while behind the outlaw mask and then have to also interact with as Marquise while trying to keep their secret

Caden James † She/Her † Charmed '98(OC) † 27 † Aware † 3/3:

Aware of a change to the city

At this stage in the game, Caden has come to expect just about anything, but a real-life ren faire with equally real, era-appropriate consequences for being found out as having 'abilities' was not on her bingo-card. If she can manage to keep her powers under control just long enough to ride this one out, that's all she's aiming for

Brawler

Potential plots/connections: someone she has to convince not to out her as a 'witch', arch-rival from her turn as a brawler

Rotta Tiure † He/Him † Star Wars † 26 † Unaware † 3/3:

Aware of a change to the city

If he was already suspicious of the city before, this is definitely cementing his theory that there's far more to this place than meets the eye. His position as a cleric gives him ready access to the material he needs to keep notes on anything and everything that he deems of note, and also gives him a slight in to speak with people who might have more information

Cleric

Potential plots/connections: fellow peeps that are aware there was a change that they can bounce ideas off of or can attempt to talk him down from reaching full-blown 'conspiracy theorist' status, open to a change in memory status

Alice Hart † They/Them † Fear Street Franchise † 26 † Aware † 1/3:

Unaware of a change to the city

As far as they're aware, this is the version of D.C. they arrived to. They found themselves relying on the knowledge left behind by their old habits, and taking up a spot as an assistant at an apothecary shop. They've developed quite a knack for the compounding aspect of it all

Apothecary's assistant

Potential plots/connections: clients that come to her directly as opposed to the shop, people that she works with to help out those that can't afford the shop's services or any other kind of medical care

Vi Zaun † She/They † Arcane † 24 † Unaware † 2/3:

Unaware of a change to the city

I'm committing to the bit, and this one will continue to be clueless to anything even remotely out of the norm. This has been their entire life, growing up with their lovely sister, and now being on the cusp of their own knighthood

Squire

Potential plots/connections: a knight they serve as squire for, fellow unaware peeps that want a childhood idiot friend

Rachel Summers † She/They † X-Men/Marvel Comics † 23 † Unaware † 5/3:

Unaware of a change to the city

They've been living in the same Queendom since ever, as far as she's aware. Ray signed up to train for and join the Royal Guard at the first opportunity she had, feeling the training would help her keep a better handle on her powers, the position would be beneficial to keeping herself closer to and in-the-know of anything coming from on-high that will affect fellow 'cursed' folks, and hopes that in demonstrating a high-level of loyalty to the Crown and the royal family will help mitigate if she's outed, especially if she's using them to protect the Queendom

Royal Guardsman

Potential plots/connections: fellow royal guardsmen, if anyone wants an 'assigned' guard let me know, their mentor in the guard, 'childhood' friends

[valentinsylve]

CW: Past suicidal ideation, mental health talk.

So, something very beautiful happened the other day, and I want to share it just because I know some of you are struggling with various forms of mental illness and perhaps have been diagnosed with personality disorders, which may or may not be professional assessments of misunderstood developmental anomalies and attachment trauma.

I've been working with my therapist, B., for over 10 years. When I first started seeing her, I vetted her with a longtime trusted friend who'd been her client, and I knew this friend had dealt with a lot of rage and traumas similar to mine. I asked her, "How comfortable is B. with anger?" and her response was "You would be in good hands with her."

Anyway. My therapist took me on as a high-risk client when I was already on the young side of middle aged. She quickly became aware that I was both unstable and halfway organized enough to take my own life. I was feral. I was a bitey whirlwind of grief and a kind of desperate need I found indescribable. I was 40 years old and had no idea of how to regulate my emotions. After we'd been working together for 2 years, I mused at the end of a session, "I think it's been several months since I verbally abused you." Her reply was, "Signs of healing." and she smiled and offered a hug, which I accepted.

The other day in our session we were talking about the usual sort of thing, and I was feeling emotionally soft but safe, and I noticed she seemed misty-eyed. I asked if she were OK. She told me, "I'm fine. I'm feeling very tender toward you, and after all this time you are able to accept this tenderness. You have had a hard time accepting love, because it's so often been entangled in betrayal; but now, in this space of trust you've given me, that we've worked hard to create together, I can communicate that I see you and in this way I love you."

I have always had a hard time with any kind of love. It feels so intense and frightening. I have lived with eruptions of attachment which were impossible for me to navigate. To be able to experience tenderness without pushing it away is relatively new to me. When that tenderness has appropriate boundaries, well, that's something.

I saw a therapist for the first time when I was barely 18. I have to emphasize that at the time I was required to see them. With few exceptions, my experiences with therapy in the following years were lacking or actively damaging. It took utter desperation to seek therapy again so late in life, but at last something took. I still have a ways to go, but so much is freshly possible now.

It's not too late for you, if you're worried about that. I guess that's my point. I think of my grandmother, the one whose physical, emotional and creative being I uncannily resemble, who took her mother-wounds from an abused childhood all the way to her grave, and I wish she could have met B. I hope you meet your B. as well. Maybe they won't be your therapist, but I hope they are someone who sees you and is not afraid to seek you out exactly where you are.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my bff what my ex said about them?

I had broken up with my ex 6 months beforehand and didn't talk about it with anyone but my mom and therapist for that amount of time. My friends knew it effected me pretty bad but didn't pry when I just wanted to keep it private. My ex was very long distance and didn't have many friends, so I introduced her to my irl friend group so she could have some people to talk to virtually at least. I didn't want me wanting to break up be the reason for our friends to pick sides or anything like that.

Now long story short, my ex was not happy I was ending things. She got angry saying I wasn't allowed to do this, telling me how she'd lie to our friends about me to get them to leave me as alone as she was. She gave me an order of names based on how likely she thought they'd believe her. She made "rules" for the breakup that I would still have to talk to her daily and keep an eye on her mental health so she didn't "do something stupid" and how it was my fault she was like this.

I have had previous close relationships where I felt responsible for peoples lives so I agreed. I may not have wanted to be with her romantically anymore, but of course I wanted her to live and move on and be happy. Over the months I was listening to her talk about her declining mental health, her refusals to seek professional help, her angry speeches about how I was living my life, etc. One of these speeches was about my bff and about how she blamed my bff for our breakup. And how if I didn't talk to my bff I would still be dating her. (untrue of course, if anyone blame my mom and therapist lol)

One day, my bff came over for the first time in ages for some one on one time rather than a group hang out. Our schedules were always just all over the place. I listened to her tell me about some life updates, and then she brought up how weird it was that my ex had recently started dming her wanting to be closer friends. Bff made comments about how she thought it was funny because why would she want to be closer to the person causing me grief for this long.

At this point, my mind had gone through the cycles of fearing that my ex had gotten to my bff on her list of "friends to lie to to take her side" and also shock and relief that my bff was able to tell how bad my emotional state had been for months without talking to her about what happened.

I just broke down crying

After some comfort from bff, she asked if I wouldnt mind telling her what happened and I ended up telling her.

Now my bff was pissed at my ex after I told her everything. The next day she had written an angry message to my ex defending me, and told me about it. This had me panicking more because I was scared of what my ex would do.

It turned into my ex berating me for telling my friend that "she hates her" in reference to the blaming her for the breakup because it was something she didnt feel anymore (unlikely, she had told me like 2 weeks before this she still felt that way) so I was just trying to ruin her friendships. she ordered me to tell my bff i was lying about everything

I had grown so tired of this, so I said no. I told her I only told my bff the truth and she made her own opinions. I was not responsible for that. and I told her finally that I was not responsible for her at all and thought it'd be better to go no contact.

At the same time, my bff had removed my ex from our group chats (without me telling her i was gonna go non contact, but because she thought itd be good for me) and apologized for sending the message to my ex as it was just causing more drama.

It still eats me up sometimes though. Was I the asshole for telling my bff what my ex said about her? Given, I could have just told her the exact details of the breakup without what my ex said about blaming her after the fact. Given the heightened emotions of what brought the conversation up, I just let it all out.

What are these acronyms?

[lavendershowcase]

Queer Hispanic Stories for Hispanic Heritage Month

Summaries and notes under cut

Juliet Takes a Breath by Gabby Rivera

Juliet Milagros Palante is leaving the Bronx and headed to Portland, Oregon. She just came out to her family and isn’t sure if her mom will ever speak to her again. But Juliet has a plan, sort of, one that’s going to help her figure out this whole “Puerto Rican lesbian” thing. She’s interning with the author of her favorite book: Harlowe Brisbane, the ultimate authority on feminism, women’s bodies, and other gay-sounding stuff. Will Juliet be able to figure out her life over the course of one magical summer? Is that even possible? Or is she running away from all the problems that seem too big to handle? With more questions than answers, Juliet takes on Portland, Harlowe, and most importantly, herself.

Winner of 2017 Silver IPPY Award for best LGBTQ Fiction, selected by the ALA for the Amelia Bloomer List in 2017

The Prince and the Coyote by David Bowles, illustrated by Amanda Mijangos*

Fifteen-year old crown prince Acolmiztli wants nothing more than to see his city-state of Tetzcoco thrive. A singer, poet, and burgeoning philosophical mind, he has big plans about infrastructure projects and cultural initiatives that will bring honor to his family and help his people flourish. But the two sides of his family, the kingdoms of Mexico and Acolhuacan, have been at war his entire life – after his father risked the wrath of the Tepanec emperor to win his mother’s love. When a power struggle leaves his father dead and his mother and siblings in exile, Acolmiztli must run for his life, seeking refuge in the wilderness. After a coyote helps him find his way in the wild, he takes on a new name – Nezahualcoyotl, or “fasting coyote” (“Neza” for short). Biding his time until he can form new alliances and reconnect with his family, Neza goes undercover, and falls in love with a commoner girl, Sekalli. Can Neza survive his plotting uncles’ scheme to wipe out his line for good? Will the empire he dreams of in Tetzcoco ever come to life? And is he willing to risk the lives of those he loves in the process? This action-packed tale blends prose and poetry – including translations of surviving poems by Nezahualcoytl himself, translated from classical Nahuatl by the author. And the book is packed with queer rep: queer love stories, and a thoughtful exploration of pre-columbian understandings of gender that defy the contemporary Western gender binary.

Pura Belpré honoree, Kirkus Best of the Year, Bookpage top 10 Book of 2023

*Personally recommended by me

The House of Impossible Beauties by Joseph Cassara

It’s 1980 in New York City, and nowhere is the city’s glamour and energy better reflected than in the burgeoning Harlem ball scene, where seventeen-year-old Angel first comes into her own. Burned by her traumatic past, Angel is new to the drag world, new to ball culture, and has a yearning inside of her to help create family for those without. When she falls in love with Hector, a beautiful young man who dreams of becoming a professional dancer, the two decide to form the House of Xtravaganza, the first-ever all-Latino house in the Harlem ball circuit. But when Hector dies of AIDS-related complications, Angel must bear the responsibility of tending to their house alone. As mother of the house, Angel recruits Venus, a whip-fast trans girl who dreams of finding a rich man to take care of her; Juanito, a quiet boy who loves fabrics and design; and Daniel, a butch queen who accidentally saves Venus’s life. The Xtravaganzas must learn to navigate sex work, addiction, and persistent abuse, leaning on each other as bulwarks against a world that resists them. All are ambitious, resilient, and determined to control their own fates, even as they hurtle toward devastating consequences. 

Born Both: An Intersex Life by Hida Viloria

My name is Hida Viloria. I was raised as a girl but discovered at a young age that my body looked different. Having endured an often turbulent home life as a kid, there were many times when I felt scared and alone, especially given my attraction to girls. But unlike most people in the first world who are born intersex–meaning they have genitals, reproductive organs, hormones, and/or chromosomal patterns that do not fit standard definitions of male or female–I grew up in the body I was born with because my parents did not have my sex characteristics surgically altered at birth. It wasn’t until I was twenty-six and encountered the term intersex in a San Francisco newspaper that I finally had a name for my difference. That’s when I began to explore what it means to live in the space between genders–to be both and neither. I tried living as a feminine woman, an androgynous person, and even for a brief period of time as a man. Good friends would not recognize me, and gay men would hit on me. My gender fluidity was exciting, and in many ways freeing–but it could also be isolating. I had to know if there were other intersex people like me, but when I finally found an intersex community to connect with I was shocked, and then deeply upset, to learn that most of the people I met had been scarred, both physically and psychologically, by infant surgeries and hormone treatments meant to “correct” their bodies. Realizing that the invisibility of intersex people in society facilitated these practices, I made it my mission to bring an end to it–and became one of the first people to voluntarily come out as intersex at a national and then international level. Born Both is the story of my lifelong journey toward finding love and embracing my authentic identity in a world that insists on categorizing people into either/or, and of my decades-long fight for human rights and equality for intersex people everywhere.

Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado

In Her Body and Other Parties, Carmen Maria Machado blithely demolishes the arbitrary borders between psychological realism and science fiction, comedy and horror, fantasy and fabulism. While her work has earned her comparisons to Karen Russell and Kelly Link, she has a voice that is all her own. In this electric and provocative debut, Machado bends genre to shape startling narratives that map the realities of women’s lives and the violence visited upon their bodies. A wife refuses her husband’s entreaties to remove the green ribbon from around her neck. A woman recounts her sexual encounters as a plague slowly consumes humanity. A salesclerk in a mall makes a horrifying discovery within the seams of the store’s prom dresses. One woman’s surgery-induced weight loss results in an unwanted houseguest. And in the bravura novella “Especially Heinous,” Machado reimagines every episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, a show we naively assumed had shown it all, generating a phantasmagoric police procedural full of doppelgängers, ghosts, and girls-with-bells-for-eyes.

Finalist for the 2017 National Book Award for Fiction, Winner of the National Book Critics Circle's 2017 John Leonard Prize, Winner of the 2017 Bard Fiction Prize, Finalist for the 2017 Kirkus Prize, Finalist for the 2017 PEN/Robert Bingham Award

[extremely-judgemental]

Wait, so if I'm critical of a book, I have to hate everything about it or else my opinions hold no value?🤣 Then by that logic shouldn't the fans love all the characters, including Tamlin, Lucien, Eris, even Beron, Keir, or Amarantha? I mean you can't spare them because they're cruel or hurt Feyre/Rhysand. SJM still created them, didn't she? I hate SJM and her books for the problematic themes she's propagandising, and yes, I have every right to talk about it as much as you do, as a reader, to preach how much you love a character or how they are the standard when they clearly aren't. If you can ignore the misrepresentations and move past the flaws with ease, good for you. That doesn't mean others can't share their opinions on a fiction they believed was worth their time and were disappointed. That's how we process media. If you can't understand someone's favourism, don't engage with them instead of insulting their intelligence and degrading them as a person.

Antis are getting so much hatred for openly talking about racism, sexism, faux feminism, internalised (and sometimes outright) misogyny, and misinformation of abuse, and so many more other issues I can't even begin to list out, in these books. And you want to attack every one of them, seek them out in their own blogs and send anons and threats who have clearly declared themselves as antis/critiques. These people are here educating others and validating varied interpretations of these books while you're trying to pit them against each other in their own community. In the 5 months I've been in this hellhole, I've never encountered one rude anti so far, or maybe I'm just lucky. Still that statistics is almost nonexistent compared how many pros think they are the messiahs to spread holy wisdom from SJM herself and pressured me into adopting their narratives.

Tbh I don't like any of the characters in these books, not one, not even Tamlin or Nesta whom openly I'm pro for. But I saw how much you want to hate on them for the most sensible thing to do in their positions or the natural mistakes one can commit. I saw the way you hated on Nesta for being a woman. I saw the way you hated on Tamlin just because he was a romantic 'threat' to your Rhysand. I am critical of every character in these books but there are some who don't deserve the redemption in the narratives or the love from the audience because of the abuse they inflict on the FMCs in a female-centered series.

You're triggered by the antis talking about abuse in these books. But you had no issues reading them described so vividly, so explicitly? You had no issues when the author gave you no warning beforehand? You had no issues when the characters you love were the instigators?

You are not Feyre. Rhysand is not your partner. SJM is not your mother.

I understand it's hard to tolerate when the illusion of fiction is shattered and you're confronted with reality and how it's parallel to what you go through everyday and what you condemn. But that doesn't give you the right to harass real people or ridicule them in name of defending these characters. At the end of the day, if you can't separate yourself from fiction, maybe seek professional help.

[mysticheathenn]

What Will Make You Financially Abundant?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is for my Patreon All Tiers. This pick-a-card reading is all about what will bring financial stability and abundance into your life.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

Extended Patreon Includes:

What do you need to let go of to bring this to fruition?

What will this abundance bring or gift me?

Extra Messages

MasterList

Patreon Link

Ko-Fi Donations

Pile l:

What will bring you Financial abundance? Tarot: 4 of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, Strength, 4 of Cups, King of Swords, Ace of Swords

Following your truth. I know you are probably looking for a straight answer like me saying your current career, a sugar daddy, or the lottery but pile l you are what will bring financial abundance to you. A lot of you are constantly sleeping on the many ideas that spirit has given you because you are either too scared to take the leap, don't believe you are good enough, your idea isn't good enough, or you believe it's already been done before. Either way, you are the key to bringing in this abundance into your life by acting on the ideas that come to you no matter how ridiculous or "bland" they may seem. You are basically sleeping on your own potential and what you can bring into your life. Some of you are even hold yourself back by having a scarcity mindset, not believing that you can bring in financial stability or abundance. Stand in your power or for a few of you stand in your purpose that keeps knocking at your door that you keep ignoring because of fear. This reminds me of a pile in my previous reading. I believe it was pile 3 from my "What Do You Still Need to Heal From?" Reading. Wake up. Smell the coffee and get to work. Stop putting off your ideas. Stop ignoring your ideas. Stop ignoring the path that keeps popping up in your life for you to take. This reminds me of the scene from Barbie where she didn't want to find out why she was "malfunctioning" but she had to find out because if she doesn't she would end up like weird Barbie. This is you pile l...if you don't walk the path you were meant to walk, listen to your ideas, and release this scarcity mindset...you will continue to struggle. Patreon Post Link

Pile ll:

What will bring you Financial abundance? Tarot: 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles, 3 of Cups, 4 of Pentacles, 4 of Cups, 2 of Cups, King of Wands

Sugar Daddy by Qveen Herby is playing in my head as I try to listen for your message pile ll. For some of you this is between a wealthy benefactor or you marrying rich. Especially with the 2 of cups being a card mostly related to romance but it can be used for business opportunities. Another song playing in my head is Finer Things by FEYI. This is my materialistic pile that wants the tips and trips to the island - Money Honey by Lady Gaga. You are all about living a luxurious lifestyle one way or another. You may resonate with wanting a soft life than constantly always being in your masculine energy and bossing everyone around. For some of you, you don't want to work because you believe that you were meant to be some CEO, NFL, NBA, or Tech's spoiled Girlfriend, and others, you want to have the option to work. Maybe you want a small side business like most Trophy Wives living in Beverly Hills where they have a side business to keep them busy instead of always shopping. I can already see you sitting at a cafe, or a spa trip, and international trips with your closest friends. You're surrounded by your spoiled girlfriend friends living the good life sipping champagne while receiving just because gifts from your lover and even push presents for those who want to be a stay-at-home wife. A push present is where you get a gift for your hard work in carrying a child. This pile reminds me of the TLC special that used to run called The Secrets of a Trophy Wife with Jennifer Stano and Layla Milani (I love both of them, especially Layla) her husband absolutely adores her and that's what you want pile ll. (Click the show name for the show trailer of what I was talking about). You want that soft life where you are adored, pampered, and living life of luxury filled with beautiful things and love. Patreon Post Link

Pile lll:

What will bring you Financial abundance? Tarot: The Fool, High Priestess, The Sun, 4 of Wands, 10 of Wands, The Hermit (reversed), 2 of Wands (reversed)

This is more my spiritual, philanthropy, and humanitarian pile. What will bring you financial abundance is walking in your purpose where you were meant to help others in some shape or form. This could be you working in the medical field, being a lawyer, a spiritual guru, life or spiritual coach, tarot reader, dietician/herbalist, whatever it is you were meant to make your abundance by being of service to other people. I feel some of you know this but you don't want to answer the call because of fear or because of the amount of hard work that comes along with doing this kind of thing. Yes it is taxing some days on the soul but overall all this is what you were meant to do, help others. Bring awareness to certain things in life that will get people talking. I don't want any of you to think the list of occupations is only it, it can also be a techer or whatever else occupation where you are making a difference for the future and in others lives. But it is something that will be hard work to the point some days you will question if it worth it because of how much you have to do in order to bring in this success but you will always be reminded in some form that it is definitely worth it and to keep going. Patreon Post Link

Pile lV:

What will bring you Financial abundance? Tarot: Ace of Swords, Ace of Cups, 3 of Pentacles, 7 of Pentacles, 6 of Pentacles, 6 of Swords

This pile is a mixture of walking away from your current job for something better, following a business venture, or even just doing freelancing (Etsy, Fiverr, Upwork, etc). I don't know what you are up to pile lv all I know is that you are unsatisfied with where you are currently because of either a toxic workplace or knowing that you can make more money elsewhere but aren't sure where to start. Here is your sign to leave and go where you are meant to go. Again this is a general reading and everyone has a different job. Leaving your job for a better environment and higher pay is one thing but for most of you I feel you want to open your own business, or just freelance your work or maybe even work from home is what I am hearing for a few of you. Either way, this idea you have is completely doable it just involves you leaving where you are currently at. Some of you aren't scared you just aren't too sure about the future and just need a push to get there while others of you are waiting for a sign or a more solid reason to leave because you listen too much to other people who wouldn't understand why you left because of XYZ and I am here to tell you to just do you. You do not need to answer to other people on why you left a job to pursue something better. Not every wave was meant to be chased or followed and this goes for where you are currently especially since you are miserable where you are now. Patreon Post Link

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[xaviers-home-for-wayward-pokemon]

Hi there :) Is there a reason this blog died? is it harder to get shinies in scarvio? or just busy irl? no worries ofc! im truly just curious! i miss you guys! i miss the gen 7 era lol :'3

Hi there, Nonny. There is not an easy answer to this question, and unfortunately it involves breaking my biggest rule with this blog and steering away from pure positivity. I'm happy to share the story if you want to read on, though.

TW for family member death, therapy trauma, and friendship ending.

I always had a tradition of doing a big giveaway around the December holidays and then taking some time off for the new years. Generally I'd try to get back into giveaways no later than February since that's Mewtwos "birthday" and it would be a yearly tradition to give away versions of this blogs mascot.

In December 2019, my mom passed away.

There is no good time to lose your mom, but there is most definitely a worst time. Five days before Christmas, one year after the death of your father, two weeks after the birth of her one and only grandchild (following years of fertility issues between myself and both of my siblings), one month after her retirement, and one month before a massive family vacation that was meant as a Christmas gift she never opened ... Well that's pretty much the worst time. She was in near perfect health but her death was the result of a car accident, and she did not leave any form of will. I don't know if it's possible to explain how much work it is to deal with probate, burial, and associated lawsuits on top of mourning the death of one's own mother. Needless to say, it's a lot.

My sister lived in another state at the time and was busy with her newborn, and my brothers disabilities prevented him from contributing much to the situation, meaning the only one who was able to handle things was me.

Which unfortunately meant pokemon giveaways had to be put off for longer, and as expected, it's pretty hard to write pep talks in that state of mind.

For obvious reasons, I started going to therapy. While there I expressed interest in wanting to do giveaways again, and my therapist encouraged it. I even purchased a hackable switch with the intention of finding a way to hack the newer gen mons, but figured I could use the old action replay for the old gens until I got that figured out. A small handful of you may recall this is when I started streaming; in part, it was too reach a wider audience, and in part to encourage more engagement. Unfortunately, engagement in the giveaways only decreased, and that's on top of the hacking taking twice as long with the need to mass transfer between the 3DS and Switch.

During this time I actually quit my job, because being executor of my mother's estate became a full time focus and I was fortunate enough to have a supportive partner to encourage me. Not to mention, well, we all know what happened in 2020 to make working more difficult for everyone.

Before long, I realized that doing giveaways had become a chore. No longer was it work that brought joy to myself and others, it felt like an obligatory burden. It was no longer fair to put so much pressure on myself over something that was meant to be fun, and with everything else I was dealing with, it was time to be fair to myself.

However, I did not originally intend to abandon this blog indefinitely, and thought at least I would keep up the daily pep talks.

Now I want to be clear: I am not anti therapy. In fact I encourage anyone who can to seek professional help whenever the situation calls for it. I will not go into any further details besides this: I actually have some trauma regarding therapy. It makes seeking out and opening up to therapists very difficult, and it's something I've struggled with since childhood. So when the therapist I had (who I felt was working well) left the practice and I was assigned a new one, it was not a good mix. Especially when the new therapist wanted to focus on things I felt were irrelevant and/or non-issues.

One of the unforseen "advantages" to having barriers between yourself and professional help is that you get pretty good at helping yourself. The reason why I enjoyed writing this blogs pep talks is because they were often words I used to encourage myself, and it brought me joy seeing them encourage others. At this point in my journey, I had to focus exclusively on helping myself, and that carried the consequence of no longer being able to help others. After all, if I do not care for myself, then eventually, there will be nobody to care for anybody.

Another factor came into play at this time. Many of you noticed this blog changed names from Vales Home to Xaviers Home. At first I said this was because the new mod team shifted focus away from the original "lore" of the blog and that a focus on our mascot as opposed to one member of the mod team made more sense (keep in mind, when it started, the blog was equal parts giveaways and fanfiction/RP). While this is true, it is only part of the truth. The fact of the matter is, Vale and I had a falling out. Vale was legitimately one of my dearest, closest friends who I felt I could turn to for anything, and the decision to end the friendship was one of the hardest choices I've ever had to make. While I do not regret the decision, it does make looking back on this blog a little bittersweet.

At the end of the day, there is not one reason why this blog died. My own personal turmoil, trauma, Nintendo's decisions, and a general shift in the community combined to make running this blog a burden too great for me to bear. While I have no intention to start it up again, I also cannot bring myself to delete the blog. The happy memories and positivity it generated during its time is worthy of preseveing, in my opinion.

I also do not want you to think my life has been pure turmoil over the past five years. On the contrary, I think I am in a better place now than I was in 2019. I went back to school and started a new career. I now work in a hospital helping people in real life instead of online. I overcame a lifelong phobia of driving and bought a car. I rediscovered a love for crafting, and have taken up new hobbies in driving to craft fairs, camping, and nature photography. I ended 2019 miserable working a dead-end sales job and mourning the death of my mother. I am ending 2024 with a thriving career, a joyous hobby, and a big group of supportive friends both old and new.

While I am not active on this blog, my main is still very much alive and you're welcome to follow me if you don't mind largely video game shit posting interspersed with occasional writing or photography. Also, even though the discord server associated with this blog is inactive, I am still on and using discord should you ever wish to chat.

I am beyond glad if this blog ever sparked joy for you. If you read all of this, thank you for staying by my side. If you didn't, that's okay too.

And remember: Xavier loves you. ♥️

-Typhon ( @typhonserpent )

[quailxcrossing]

SNIFFLES AT YOU hiii i just saw your oc ask thing i am rubbing my little hands together like a fly im gonna copy and paste these emojis i hope they dont break lol 🌠 Leah ☀️ Imogen 🌙 Maiceo 🌒 Maiceo again if thats allowed 🌔 Auï ⭐ Fracture 🌟 Evie 🌙 Esperanza

HELLO!!!!!! :3c

🌠 - What is your OC’s greatest desire and how far are they willing to go to obtain it? 

Leah just wants to be happy and chill, man. she's actually quite wayward right now; her life sorta got uprooted and her habits got switched up on her. she isn't sure what she wants right now either...neither would she be certain how far she would be willing to go. right now, just moving through the motions of life is enough...she's def a character who went through a lot and now she's just trying to pick up her life again. i suppose that is a desire of its own!

☀️ - How well does your OC deal with isolation? 

Imogen deals with it BAD she deals with it really bad. she hates being alone she hates people leaving her she hates the idea of being by herself and having no one around and having no one to talk to!! she is constantly seeking her dads or her dad's friends out to speak to, she needs reassurance, she needs people.....

🌙 - If given the chance, what is one thing about their life your OC would change permanently?  BARKS.

Maiceo would change their card, thus changing their position as the Hierophant. this is a desire that Maiceo has that is so deep that Maiceo doesn't even realize they have it, it is so ingrained in how they think and behave, yet so deeply ANTITHETICAL to their entire mental structure that them realizing they would want to do this would break them completely :P :3 being the Hierophant is all they know and all they ever think they could be, and to wish it away is so against what the Hierophant represents, but oh how badly they do wish they were anyone else.

if given the chance, Esperanza would go back and redo her actions which lead to her survival and revival. she would do this to give back a life to her friend, who she believes deserves it more than she does. maybe doing this would finally smother her guilt

🌒 - Under what circumstances is your OC their most genuine self? 

This really made me think "does Maiceo really have a genuine self anymore?" but i think I just realized Maiceo's genuine self is just rather unpleasant. standoffish, invasive, living on a hair trigger, paranoid, stressed, self-flagellating, miserable- Maiceo is all of these things quite often. always, even. Maiceo has a second genuine self, but I want to stress this one does not make the first any less real. Maiceo's FALSE self- the self-important, smug, professional Hierophant- THAT is a mask. Maiceo's second genuine self is similar to the first, although it is also thoughtful, inquisitive, considerate, awkward, and dramatic. this side of Maiceo only comes out in tiny slices when it can be alone with Georgiana, which is not often, or occasionally when around Esperanza, although she often gets the Hierophant mask. Maiceo tries to keep Esperanza away from the first Maiceo. They tried the same for Georgiana, but they had a way to make Maiceo break down (this used to be a good thing, but became sour over the years)

sorry i just. fucking looove Maiceo its horrible how much i love maiceo its ruining everything

🌔 - Does your OC take well to intimacy or are they pricklier than a cactus? 

Auï loves intimacy, he is highly affectionate!!! he does give a bit of a front he's prickly, but i think thats just. in comparison to Goat. Goat makes Auï look like he hates smiles and rainbows and kittens. but Goat is not a fair comparison. Auï is just a very sweet guy who is very lovey to all of his friends, he loves to give gifts and is incredibly thoughtful about his choices and he pays a lot of attention to those around him! he loves snuggling too, touch is his main love language (which i remember so fondly makes my friend SO mad at me, because i took touching others away from him for years, but thats just the story idk...)

⭐ - What do people assume about your OC? Do they question the quality of their character?  WITH TURRIE THIS IS SO EASY. BECAUSE PEOPLE ASSUME SHIT ABOUT HER ALL THE TIME

she is just a little gal. i know this. but i think on first glance, in real life and in the story, a lot of people assume "oh she's the little sunshine of the group" or WORSE "oh she's the mom friend" she's NOT there is not Mom Friend these people are UNPARENTED (honestly if anyone, Auï is the closest, but he's more of the Older Brother Friend) Turrie is not the mom and she is not tiny and sweet and innocent, she's terrified of everything so she locks into people-pleaser mode but deep down she's a highly competitive med student who signed up to do experiments on a human test subject and only freaked out when she was already in so deep and she feared for her life and that FUCKED HER UP.

sorry i have so many thoughts about how Turrie is portrayed, but i love it bc everyone is falling for her trap

🌟 - What is your OC’s drive to action, their call to adventure? 

Evie's call to action is kinda just what the ask said honestly! she is very called to adventure! she idolizes travellers and brave knights and monsterhunters and she wants more than being confined to the Pewter City! she wants to protect her best friend as she goes on her own journey, and she wants to see the world!!!!! please please let her out of here!!!!! she wants to touch grass, she's never seen it before

[cere-mon-ials]

2023 in kdramas

*that i finished

**in order of how deep and lasting the brainrot was/is from barely a smidge to stitched to my soul

[12] I figured See You In My 19th Life would be trying when I couldn’t understand why an extraordinary individual in her 18th life—18 incredible lives lived over some of history’s most happening centuries—would fixate on one pesky schoolboy. I bought it because (a) Shin Hye-sun was selling it (b) the show tried to make it clear that while she remembered her past lives, it is not the same as living the one she is in. So when the young Ju-won meets Seo-ha, she is still a 12-year-old who happens to fall for a 9-year-old, except she has heightened emotional maturity.

The plot follows Ju-won, who is reincarnated as Ban Ji-eum, her 19th life after her 18th was cut short in a car accident with Seo-ha. Then, the show fumbles its own logic, unable to choose if the real gift is living in the present or remembering how we got there. We are told that Ji-eum is determined to fix the life she didn’t get to live as Ju-won and because Ju-won’s family and Seo-ha are still alive, that’s who she seeks out. She also finds a dear one from her 17th life. The twist is that the 18th life was meant to be a fated reincarnation of two lovers, who in their time—the first life—were wronged. In the end, when the sins are atoned for, Ji-eum loses the memories of her past lives. She is Ji-eum, smart and talented, daughter of an abusive man and born destitute, free of karmic obligations. But who is this Ji-eum? Who does she love? Why are the memories of everyone who knew her as the extraordinary Ju-won/Ji-eum so valuable and hers isn’t? Milquetoast writing and a genuine lack of interesting characters in the rest of the show.

[11] I didn’t finish the first season of Dr. Romantic because I had a violent reaction (derogatory) to Yoo Yeon-seok’s character. I went straight to the additional episode ft. Kim Hye-soo who is ~flails~ and warmed up to this fantastic ensemble, thanks to a YYS-less sequel. Season 3 is ambitious and follows the raggity crew of overworked doctors in a country hospital now coping with its expansion into an elite trauma centre. The show does neither this premise nor the incredible cast they managed to bring back together (at least four of who could demand three times what they were paid in S2) any real justice. It had all the ingredients and an emotional core that is most pleasing to me. Seriously, it was so good: in reaching for the Michelin stars of healthcare, ostensibly Kim Sabu’s legacy, both he and his colleagues find that they may need to reassess what he taught them. Look at the implications. Doldam is a hospital that has run for two seasons on the strength of close-knit interpersonal relationships in ways (some might accuse) hazardous to professional codes. Something's gotta give.

DRR S3 does not trust the emotional tensions that these ideas can provoke and instead, throws in spectacle after spectacle. A bloodbath on a ship carrying illegal migrants, a raging forest fire, a building collapse. And there are villains, written as yangs to yings, in a main character's father played by an actual trash person, and then groan a politician. I mean, the vagaries of ill fortune and death is right there. Isn’t that enough? Makes you wonder just how did Lee-Shin partnership accomplish what they did with HosPlay. Someone who loves DRR’s characters will sit through it. But it’s junk food.

[10] Lee Bo-young is a force in Agency. It's a tried and tested formula: a brilliant creative person with abandonment issues in fantastic clothes. I enjoyed the snippy dialogues, peppered with refreshing metaphor and irony reminiscent of vintage Hollywood flicks. The writing isn’t confident about what it wants to say about an ambitious single woman in a workplace (and other women too including working mothers, women who find no need in dressing up to do their jobs, expert women who still have to struggle when they want to build something). But perhaps you, like me, can let it pass. It is not ideal to fetch a real answer to women’s struggles amidst capitalist excess.

[9] Our Blooming Youth begins with a cursed prince (Park Hyung-sik) and a noblewoman (Jeon So-nee) accused of murdering her entire family joining hands to free each other. Lurking behind is a national conspiracy spearheaded by several degenerate officials who wish to erase a people and their history—interesting that OBY and My Dearest later in the year featured the most marginalised being branded as traitors. The prince and noblewoman (cross-dressed as a eunuch of course) are joined by four young individuals who feel a sense of duty. I adored this band and their shenanigans. The show is kind to the youth in question, to their capacity to chase freedom and friendship. I was moved by such love for characters in this story about nationhood as an ongoing project.

But enjoying OBY means reading in between the lines because the show doesn’t know what to do with its 20-episode length or the depth of its interest in the scars of unacknowledged genocide. I felt impatient and unfulfilled more times than I’d like. I wish OBY was more meaty because it had the opportunity to be radical and chose to be inoffensive. Hyung-sik, very dear to me. So-nee, GOSH. I have loved her since Encounter (2018) and she fills a frame like nobody’s business. If there is such a thing as female gaze, she’s got it. I caught her in the little I watched of Soulmate (2023) recently. A marvel, just like Kim Da-mi.

[8] One Day Off is whimsical and celebrates the mundane in eight chapters following the wanderings of a school teacher, played by the luminous Lee Na-young. Japanese entertainment does discovering minor joys and its everydayness so well that it’s a genre in itself. I have seen it in a handful Korean variety shows too. As a drama, this is new to me and ODO felt special. It giveth in multitudes taking us to a monastery, an art exhibit, a film festival, a planetarium, many bakeries. At other times, it puts us in the middle of a rainy day and ancestral rites and a bus station where the teacher is stuck with condescending boomers. It's lovely.

[7] King The Land benefitted from low expectations of prestige. Junho lovers were tuning in to see him frolic after his Baeksang-winning performance as King Jeongjo, I can’t speak for Yoon-A lovers. The makers wanted to bank on these beloved actors and there is minimal friction between who they are and what they play on-screen. Junho, handsome, rich, kind. Yoon-A, pretty, hardworking, warm. There is a good chance that this show was part of a joint marketing campaign by Dior and Estee Lauder. And also, possibly, Thailand's tourism department. KTL is classic popcorn, easy on the eyes, easy on the mind (save for that irritatingly stupid arc with the ‘Arab prince’), designed to be innocuous. Here’s the thing, though: the cast and crew were not messing around with that dough. They chose to inject this fan + consumer service with an earnest desire to entertain missers of fluff romance. Lee Junho, permanent resident of my heart.

[6] Going in with low expectations helped when I watched My ID is Gangnam Beauty too. Kang Mi-rae is starting college with a new face, having shed her old one at the surgeon’s table because of life-long bullying at being conventionally unattractive. But Mi-rae now has to deal with gossip and judgement about the extents she has gone for what’s deemed as a vanity project. When Mi-rae says that it matters what people think of her, I can't object. It’s because Gangnam Beauty tells a story about familiar feelings and yet, it is also defiantly about Mi-rae. You can walk with her but you’re aware that not all of us walk in her precise shoes, and it’s not about measuring who’s having it worse either. I loved watching her settle into her skin, remaining compassionate in whatever is the opposite of noble idiocy.

Very sweet romance. I may not have noticed Cha Eun-woo if I hadn’t been derailed to the hilt by him in Island—also a show I finished but you will not find it on this list For Reasons.

[5] I wanted to love My Dearest a lot more. It was promising what with Namgoong Min as the perfect Lee Jang-hyun and Ahn Eun-jin as the perfect Yoo Gil-chae. NGM’s ability to smirk in a way that elicits both a punch and a blush is unparalleled. He owns the role of clever playboy merchant who sees the rules of polite society as impositions and who values human life above platitudes. AEJ's Gil-chae is stubborn and witty and audacious and has no interest in anything that distracts her from her desires. I loved them, and that became one of my problems when Part 1 ended. NGM is the perfect Jang-hyun and AEJ is the perfect Gil-chae but I wasn’t able to root for their romance. I never quite got over how the desire that they shared, which war put a damper on before it got a chance to bloom, gets cheapened at the end of Part 1—please read @elderflowergin's excellent post about this. In Part 2, that conversation isn’t adequately addressed but I was there to watch these two actors earn their Baeksang nominations. I found myself willing to move with the tides when Jang-hyun and Gil-chae let each other in after they learn to devote themselves to the people who make their community.

I cannot fault MD, however, on its commentary about how war disrupts ordinary life. There is nothing more moving in the show than the Joseon slaves in Qing singing their songs and harvesting rice, yearning for home while the King and his scholars commit to preserving standing and write these countrymen off. It’s a sharp critique of an upper class that delude themselves about their importance. MD is courageous enough to say that the nation does owe something to its people and the nation must prove itself worthy of sacrifice before it can demand such a thing. I haven’t stopped feeling the pangs of this love letter to a people and their land. The first seven episodes, set during the invasion and in the early days of the Joseon surrender, is real television. It’s what I watch sageuks for.

What else? Great telling of Crown Prince So-hyeons’s story. Lee Chung-ah is captivating. MD would have risen in my heart and on this list if it were more attentive to Ryang-eum. Double amnesia was comically exhausting to watch but I do feel generous now. The first time round Jang-hyun regains his memory because of a tangible article that proved Gil-chae’s love for him. The second time he traces back the arc of his life that spawned enduring memories of love and dreams. He’s not looking to retrieve what he doesn’t know he has lost. He knows he has lost and he is piecing together what he can. That’s a bold note to conclude on by makers who have risen to question the state of a nation in the hands of incompetence and cruelty and obscene pride. The racism is unsurprising—I wish this meant that I had better tolerance for it. I also wish the story knew better than to push Eun-hye to the sidelines. My favourite scene is Gil-chae finding Jang-hyun clawing to life by a string on a pile of corpses and proceeding to play dead while holding him tight to escape.

[4] I kept tuning in to Moving week after week despite my reservations about high school life, superheroes, and gore because it is a feat of storytelling. A rewarding first act, an absorbing second, and a near perfect third. It’s a compelling story on its own about superhero parents who will go to any lengths to protect their superhero children. But it’s also poignant in how it tackles passive peace.

Critiques of the state’s abuse of power often turn fangless in the face of this idea about national security, the notion that secures our future. Writers fumble because they feel forced to provide an alternative: how else do we protect what we must? Moving kills the question by letting you see past that what (national security) and takes you to a who (our children, our literal future). It dismantles the illusions with its central stage as a highly-surveilled school where undercover secret agents observe and train gifted children. The litmus test isn’t going to be the abstraction of a nation. It’s going to be whether our children can grow up, can learn, can be free to be who they want to be, irrespective of talents they may or may not possess.

A state which can’t imagine freedom as such is a failed state and a failed state resorts to joining hands with those who have every interest in keeping us from seeing that we do in fact want the same things as our neighbours. The real world bleeds in when the story of two Koreas becomes apparent. It’s acutely observed in a way that’s trope-y but perhaps not untrue. But the show is more interested in the shared Koreanness, in their love for their children, and for the unimpeachable desire to make their lives better.

Park Hee-soon had me hugging myself from his first frame to the last. Electrifying performance. Han Hyo-joo, oh my god.

[3] My Lovely Boxer was made for me. It’s about Gwon-sook (Kim So-hye), a boxing prodigy who disappeared from public eye after failing to show up for a championship game and Tae-young (Lee Sang-yeob), a ruthless sports agent at the cross hairs of matchfixing. Tae-young has messes to clean, payments to make, and he finds Gwon-sook to bring her back to the limelight for one final game to lose. Gwon-sook wants nothing to do with the sport and Tae-young promises that if disappearing for good is what she wants, then this plan would work for her too. It’s exactly as angsty as it sounds.

The show works because it doesn’t touch a thing that it isn’t willing to gnaw into. It doesn’t merely dangle matchfixing as plot omen—it explores the emotional and economic damages for the sportsmen with heft. Gwon-sook feels no love for boxing but she isn’t the only boxer in the world and that feeling is hardly universal. One of my favourite characters this year is Ah-reum, the opponent of that championship game for which Gwon-sook didn’t show up. That day, Gwon-sook may have chosen to leave the game for self-preservation but she also took away Ah-reum’s right to fair play. MLB is at its best when it navigates Gwon-sook seeking Ah-reum’s forgiveness because therein lies sportsmanship and what it means to tirelessly push your body for a shot at the ring. It’s an exhilarating journey with these two girls because (a) you want Ah-reum to have her moment (b) you don’t want Gwon-sook to lose and let the matchfixing bookers pocket money (c) you begin to wish Gwon-sook could win because she is too good. The stakes are delicious because the bookers are also a tad bit murderous and the final match had me at the edge of my seat.

Lee Sang-yeob was a shock to my system with his intense stare and a thespian interpretation of a man in shades of grey. Sexy bitch. I want to see Kim So-hye and Shin Se-kyung play sisters one day.

[2] Into The Ring tops my list of kdrama romcoms. Nana is a star and the fact that Se-ra cannot walk straight to save her life makes me giggle. She is blunt in the wrong ways, sharp in the wrong ways, and honest in all the right ways. Her heart is big and she has a sense of service to the people around her as though she really believes she was raised by a village. I loved Se-ra’s parents who reminded me of my own in their warmth and clownery. Park Sung-hoon’s Gong-myung is the dream guy: competent at work, loser in everything else. There’s only one kind of valid workplace romance and it’s this: accidentally becoming an elected representative and your childhood nerd friend volunteering to be your secretary to cover your ass. Perfect, no notes.

I happened to be reading Sara Ahmed’s Complaint! around the same time and I think it made me love the show's take on political action more. This is where Se-ra begins, just her and her complaint diary. That early episode where it dawns on her that she wants this job as much as she needs it got to me. There’s much to love in a show that is okay with however small a population she represents, as long as they are fun about joy and serious about justice.

[1] At the outset, Call It Love sounded like the makjang I avoid—a relationship between a woman and the son of her father’s mistress? Turns out, it's possible to tell that story like an accomplished spare poem with meticulously composed frames overdoing headroom and pared down dialogues. In effect, CIL is beautiful to look at and inviting to spend time with. This is kdrama caviar. Debut writer Kim Ga-eun has a gift for writing loneliness and solitude as not mutually exclusive to being a loved and loving person. She’s drawn comparisons to the extraordinary Park Hae-young who is the master at this sorcery. To my mind, the comparisons hold merit in subject but they operate with different intentions and styles. I hope they meet one day and I get to be a fly on the wall.

I was struck by how Lee Sung-kyung played Woo-joo as the responsible middle child, the one most burdened by the timing of her family’s collapse. The show is about her revenge but often, you see her struggle with the coldness this demands of her. She cannot resist what comes easiest to her and that’s her ability to see people having bad times as a reflection of the times, not the people. It's why she can forgive the aggrieved man who harms her, and why she tidies Dong-jin’s ex’s house while the ex is recouping from the heartbreak of losing the same man she is falling in love with.

No one has gotten the allure of the quiet guy, the shy guy, the good guy who is too awkward to be nice like Kim Young-kwang has. Dong-jin knows he has to work very hard to keep up with the pace of the world. He knows his mind but is afraid to impose it, because he doesn’t think it matters and because he doesn’t want to be a bother. Young-kwang just gets that line between clarity and low-esteem. I will never forget his teary eyes and total submission to loving Woo-joo in the single word he lets out with a hitched exhale. He slouches a lot but he will look you in the eye when he has to say something he doesn’t want to repeat. I loved him for that dignity. Special kisses to him for ditching neck ties.

It is true pleasure to see two male leads, majestic and towering in physique, composed to look tiny and frail. At one point, the costume department steps up Woo-joo’s wardrobe as her feelings intensify and it doesn't come across as a makeover. It is presented as the ordinary consequence of paying attention. I loved everything and everyone. The siblings. The ex-girlfriend, the bad mother and also, the generous & kinda clueless one. The stepfather who lingered, the best friends, the loyal & competent manager lady. Favourite kiss.

*

I am currently watching four dramas: A Good Day To Be A Dog (cute & fun), My Demon (silly & fun), Park's Marriage Contract (testing my patience), and Tell Me That You Love Me (relishing but for some reason not investing). I missed Not Others and The Eighth Sense when they were airing and they are the two shows from 2023 that I am adding to my watchlist. I am looking forward to 2024 because we seem to be getting at least one release from several greats and beauties. See you then! I hope no one emails you for the rest of the year and you eat well.