#it's upsetting and I don't know how to process it

[teaboot]

Saw the ask about autism and ADHD imagination and got curious about this:

Cause I have both, and got a thing where an image or a scene come all rendered out, like 3D Blender animation, you know? All in my mind, with colors and shades and like details, and if I'm imagining a scene, it gets really interesting to imagine it, because to me, I don't even need to close my eyes, I just render that picture in my mind. It's both a blessing and a curse as a creative writer, because I can actually see the scenes I'm making, even if in my mind, but also hard - because I know how I want them to be, and translating that to paper is difficult.

But that's also the thing why I can't meditate the way most people do: cause my brain doesn't do words or thoughts I need to clear out, it does renditions, so achieving quiet mind requires any and all thought process to stop - which, as you could guess, is largely impossible. The solution? Meditation in movement, because if my brain is too busy processing the 3D of the world outside, it can't load the picture inside the mind 👌one task at a time, brain said

That is SO wild bruh

I get similar things- like if I turn off one level, another will start up, or a different image or memory will get in the way, but it’s not 3D images, it’s more like … awareness of distance and depth with no images included, or pictures that are only as detailed as I’m able to draw, with blank spaces where I don’t fully remember

For ME, I meditate by finding a comfortable place to sit and following each line of thought until there’s nothing left to think about. If I have an upsetting thought, I follow it and unpack it until there’s nothing more to unpack- and when I can’t think of anything else to think about, focus on the physical sensations in my body starting at the top of my head and working my way out to my hands and feet. Then it’s all kind of… I don’t know, non-linear? Like if I can hear music playing somewhere, I can’t really recognize the song, or it takes a while to notice it IS music, because in each instant it’s just one sound existing at a time independent of the next. No previous, no next, only “now”.

Feels good. Feels like taking a shower you didn’t realize you needed.

How would you describe your process? Meditation through movement isn’t something I’d heard of or considered before and I’m curious of how it works for you! And what frame of mind to you aim to achieve ? My own goal is usually just to de-clutter or manage overstimulation. And do you ever “run out” of images? How do you meditate without losing focus?

Hit me upppppp

(if you want to or have time, I mean. No pressure)

[kikis-writing-service]

— easy to love; izuku midoriya x reader

content warnings: hurt/comfort, panic attack, brief self-harm attempt, mentions of family trauma reader is intended to be autistic, but its not explicitly stated

You were picking at the label on your water bottle, not really watching the TV. The adhesive came off in strips, giving your fingers something to do while your mind circled endlessly around that morning's conversation. Izuku was sprawled next to you on the couch, occasionally laughing at the comedy movie he'd put on, but the sound felt distant.

The words your sister had said kept replaying with relentless precision. "I don't know how Izuku puts up with you sometimes. You're lucky he's so patient."

She hadn't meant it cruelly—she never did. That was what made it cut deeper: the casual delivery, like stating an obvious fact everyone already understood about the fundamental burden of your existence.

"You're quiet tonight," Izuku observed during a quieter scene, his voice carrying that gentle attention that always made something in your chest pull tight.

"Just tired." You shredded another piece of the label, the motion automatic. "Talked to my sister," you added quietly.

"Ah." He knew that tone—knew what conversations with your family could excavate from the carefully buried places inside you. "What'd she say?"

"Nothing really." The lie tasted stale. "Just...she was asking about us. Said I'm lucky you're so patient with me." The words came out carefully neutral, like you were trying to drain all the hurt from them before they reached the air.

You kept your eyes on the water bottle. Even obvious truths about yourself still stung to say out loud.

You felt him go still beside you—the way his casual sprawl shifted into something more rigid. His breathing changed too, and you weren't sure why he seemed upset when this was just basic reality.

"Patient with what?" His voice carried an edge you rarely heard, carefully controlled but sharp underneath.

"You know. Me being difficult." The words emerged with practiced casualness, a shield you'd perfected over years of deflecting this particular truth. You waved a hand vaguely, still unable to meet his eyes. "I know I'm difficult to love. It's fine."

The silence that followed stretched endlessly. You could feel Izuku staring, could practically hear his mind working to process what you'd just said.

When you finally risked a glance, his expression had transformed completely. Mouth slightly open, green eyes wide with something between horror and heartbreak.

"What?" you asked.

"You just said—did you just say you're difficult to love?" he asked, his voice quiet and strained.

"Yeah?" you asked.

Something flickered across his face. His fingers dug into his thighs.

"Baby, that's not—" He stopped. His hand settled gently on your knee. "You're not difficult to love."

The words slammed into your chest, stealing your breath for a moment, but it was his touch that really undid you—warm and careful and so achingly tender. You forced yourself to push the feeling down before it could take root, pulling away from his touch. Hope felt too dangerous.

You let out a short laugh. "Come on, Izuku. We both know I'm a lot to handle."

"You're not 'a lot to handle,'" he said firmly.

Izuku's jaw was tight, his usually gentle expression hardened in a way you rarely saw.

"I need basic directions explained to me like three different times," you said, ticking things off on your fingers. "I need to make plans and rehearse everything before we go places. I have really strong opinions about stuff that doesn't matter. I interrupt people all the time. I can't deal with changes in plans without freaking out. I lose it over stupid shit."

Your voice got smaller as you cataloged each failing.

Izuku's expression grew tighter with each item you listed, like he was physically restraining himself from interrupting.

"Those things don't make you difficult to love," he said gently.

"They make me high maintenance," you insisted.

"No, they don't," he said firmly.

You raised your eyebrows at him. "Izuku, be realistic. I know what I am."

His expression tightened at that. "I don't think you do. I think other people have told you what you are, and you believed them."

That hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You shifted on the couch, pulling your legs up defensively, and his hand fell away to rest on the cushion between you.

"It's not about what other people have told me. It's just...observable fact."

"What's an observable fact?" he asked carefully.

"That I'm more work than most people want to deal with long-term," you said quietly.

The words tasted bitter. You hated having to say it out loud, hated that he was making you state something he already knew.

But something vulnerable flickered in his expression, and you didn't understand why he seemed so upset when this was just what you were.

"Says who?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Says everyone who's ever tried. Says my family. Says experience."

"Your family is wrong." His jaw was tight, hands clenched at his sides.

The simple certainty in his voice made something crack inside your chest. But the crack it opened felt dangerous.

"My family knows me better than anyone," you said defensively.

"Your family has spent your entire life making you feel like you need to apologize for existing," he said quietly but firmly.

That stung because it was true.

"They're not trying to be mean. They're just...honest," you said, but your voice wavered.

"There's a difference between honesty and cruelty," he said softly, shifting closer and gently settling his hand back on your knee with a reassuring rub.

"It's not cruelty to acknowledge reality," you said stubbornly.

"And what reality is that?"

The question caught you off guard. "That I'm...that some people are just harder to love than others. That I require more patience, more understanding. That I'm difficult."

"Baby." His voice dropped to something infinitely gentle, his hand moving from your knee to gently cup your face. "You are so easy to love."

The words stopped you cold. Something massive shifted inside your chest—not hope, but terror. Terror that he meant it, terror that he didn't, terror that you might actually want to believe him.

You pulled back from his touch and looked away.

"Don't," you said, your voice cracking.

"Don't what?"

"Don't say things like that," you said, trying to steady your voice.

"Why not?"

"Because it's not true," you said, your voice getting smaller. "And you know I require patience most people don't have."

"I'm not most people."

"You're still people. Everyone has limits."

"My limits aren't anywhere near you."

"You don't know that. We haven't been together that long."

"Long enough to know."

"What happens when the honeymoon phase wears off? When you start finding me exhausting?"

The question came out raw, more vulnerable than you'd intended. It was the fear that lived at the center of everything—that this was temporary.

Izuku went very still, like the thought of finding you exhausting was so foreign he couldn't process it.

"That's not going to happen."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I love your brain exactly how it is," he said, his voice getting thicker with emotion. "I love that you ask questions until you really understand something. I love how you think through everything."

The terror in your chest was swelling now, something enormous trying to claw its way out. Your chest felt tight.

"Stop," you said breathlessly.

"I love how passionate you get about things. I love that you care enough to speak up."

"Izuku, stop," you pleaded.

"I love watching your mind work through problems. I love—"

"Stop!" The word tore out of you louder than intended. Your breathing was getting strained. "Just—stop saying that stuff."

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

"Why?" he asked gently.

"Because you don't mean it," you said shakily.

"I absolutely mean it," he said firmly.

"No, you don't," you insisted, your voice getting higher. "You think you do, but you don't really know what you're signing up for."

"I know exactly what I'm signing up for."

"Do you? Do you know how exhausting it'll get?" you asked, the words coming faster. "Having to manage me on top of everything else? When you're stressed and I'm falling apart over something stupid?"

"Yes. And I want to be there for it."

"You say that now—"

"I'll say it tomorrow too. And next month. And next year."

Something in his voice, the absolute certainty of it, made the tightness in your chest worse. The terror was building, pressing against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

"You can't promise that," you said, your voice strained.

"I can promise that."

"People always think they can handle it until they can't."

"I'm not other people."

"Everyone thinks they're different."

"Baby, look at me," he said softly, a note of pleading in his voice.

You didn't want to, but you did anyway. When you turned, his expression was so open, so sure, so full of something that looked dangerously like love that it made your chest ache.

His eyes were bright with unshed tears, his jaw set with determination. He looked like he was preparing for battle, like he was about to fight for something precious. And you realized with growing horror that the something was you.

"I have never had to work to love you," he said quietly, each word carefully chosen and devastating. "Not once. Not even on your worst days. Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

Your breathing hitched, and the tightness in your chest spread, making your stomach twist with sick realization.

Because if loving you was easy, if it was the easiest thing he'd ever done, then why...

"Don't say that," you said, your voice barely audible and shaking.

"It's true," he said gently, his hand hovering near you like he wanted to reach out but wasn't sure if you'd let him.

"It can't be true."

"Why not?"

"Because—" Your voice cracked, broke completely. You could feel something enormous clawing up from your chest, threatening to tear you apart. The realization was building like a tsunami. "Because if it's easy, then why...why didn't anyone else…," you gasped out, struggling to breathe.

You couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't name the thing that was destroying you from the inside because saying it out loud would make it real.

Izuku went very still and his face crumpled.

"What?" His voice was gentle but tight with barely contained emotion, like he was trying to stay calm while watching you fall apart.

"If loving me is so easy," you managed, your voice fracturing with each word, "then why did it take thirty years to find someone who could do it?"

The silence that followed carried the weight of years—every rejection, every moment you'd been made to feel like a burden, every relationship that had ended with you being told you were "too much." All of it crystallizing into this single, terrible question.

"Baby—" His eyes were wide now, panic flickering across his features as he watched you unravel.

"If it's easy, that's—that's worse." The words were pouring out now, desperate and raw, your throat starting to tighten. "If it takes effort—if it's hard work, then at least—" You gasped, struggling to get enough air. "At least there's a reason people gave up. But if it's easy? If it's the—" Your breathing was getting shallow, words breaking apart. "The easiest thing you've ever done?"

Your hands began to shake, and a sick feeling spread through your stomach.

"That's not—" His hands lifted halfway toward you, then stopped, clenching into fists. His whole body was taut with the effort of holding back.

"What was so wrong with me—that made it so easy for people to—" The words came in broken fragments now. "What kind of person do you have to be—for people to choose hatred over—" Your chest was getting tight. "Over something so—" You couldn't finish, couldn't name what should have been easy. "I have to—" The words came out strangled as you pushed yourself up from the couch, legs unsteady beneath you. The room tilted, everything suddenly too much.

Izuku's hand caught your wrist gently, his eyes wide with alarm as he watched you struggle to stand. "Hey, where are you going?"

"I need—" You couldn't breathe properly. The nausea was mixing with the panic and you felt like you might actually be sick. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Okay." He released your wrist but stood with you. "I'm coming with you."

"I just need a minute—" you managed between ragged breaths.

"I know, baby. But I'm not leaving you alone like this." His voice was firm but gentle, the kind of tone that brooked no argument while still being infinitely caring.

You stumbled toward the hallway, and he followed without question—close enough to catch you if you fell, but not crowding. The bathroom was dimly lit, white tiles stark against the shadows. You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet, the cold porcelain a sharp contrast against your bare legs.

The nausea overwhelmed everything else now. It wasn't just physical sickness, but a bone-deep revulsion at your own existence. Your body trying to purge something that couldn't be vomited up: the terrible knowledge that for thirty years, people had looked at you and chosen cruelty because it felt easier than love.

Izuku settled beside you immediately, his hand finding your back without hesitation. The warmth of his palm seeped through your shirt, grounding and real.

"I'm right here."

His voice was steady and sure, but it just made everything worse. Because he was being everything you'd ever wanted, and the contrast with everyone else was so stark it felt like being flayed alive.

You were hunched over the toilet, but nothing came up. The sick feeling sat in your stomach, heavy and wrong, this desperate need to purge something that couldn't be expelled.

Desperation drove you to stick your fingers down your throat anyway, some primitive need to make the feeling stop. But Izuku's hands were there immediately, gently but firmly pulling your hand away, his own fingers trembling.

"Don't," he said, voice urgent but still infinitely gentle. "Don't hurt yourself, baby."

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and careful, holding your hand away from your face while his other hand resumed its steady circles on your back.

"I can't—" You were sobbing now, the words coming out between gasping breaths. "I feel so sick. I can't—I can't make it stop."

The tears were hot and endless. Your breathing was ragged, each sob tearing through your chest.

"I know. I know it feels awful." His hand moved in steady circles on your back. "But hurting yourself won't make it better."

"I just need it to—to stop. I need this—" You gasped for air. "This feeling to go away."

"What feeling?" His voice was so gentle, so patient.

"Like I'm—like I'm disgusting." The words came out broken between hitching breaths. "Like there's something so—so fundamentally wrong with me that—" You struggled for air. "That even when loving me should be easy, people found it—found it easier to hate me instead. Like I'm poison or—or something."

Your breathing was becoming more erratic, the panic building to a crescendo. Speaking it aloud made it real in a way that threatened to tear you apart completely.

Izuku made a soft, pained sound, and his hand stilled on your back for just a moment before resuming its gentle motion.

"Baby, you're not poison. You're not disgusting."

"Then why—" Your breath hitched violently. "Why was it so easy for them to—to hate me? Why did they pick that over—over something that should have been—" You couldn't finish, gasping desperately for air.

Izuku's breathing went shallow. Tears began sliding down his face.

The question hung in the air like a curse, your breathing so shallow you felt dizzy. Your whole body was shaking now, the panic at its peak.

Izuku was quiet for a long moment, just rubbing your back as you fought for breath. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.

"Nothing's wrong with you."

"There has to—there has to be something wrong with me." The words came out in fragments between desperate gasps.

His free hand came up to gently brush the hair away from your face, and something about the tenderness of the gesture began to anchor you.

"There isn't."

You collapsed into Izuku's arms, seeking the comfort of his embrace. He caught you immediately, pulling you against his chest. "I've got you," he whispered, voice rough and broken. "I've got you."

His arms wrapped around you securely, one hand continuing its gentle circles on your back while the other cradled your head against his shoulder.

"I feel like shit," you whispered.

"I know, baby," he said softly, his voice still rough with emotion.

You looked up at him through blurry eyes and saw tears still streaming down his face, his green eyes bright and wet. Guilt crashed over you like a wave. But underneath the guilt was something warmer, more tender: the realization that he had cried for you. That your pain had moved him to tears.

You reached up with shaky fingers to brush the wetness from his cheeks, your thumb tracing the path his tears had carved through his freckles.

"It's okay," he said gently, catching your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "Just breathe with me. I've got you."

He moved his hands to cup either side of your head, his thumbs brushing away the tears still streaming down your cheeks with infinite tenderness before he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

You tried to match his breathing—in, out, in, out. It took several attempts before your lungs remembered how to cooperate, before the desperate gasping gave way to something steadier.

Izuku's hand never stopped moving on your back, those steady circles that had become your anchor. You focused on the rhythm of it, on the warmth of his palm through your shirt, on the solid reality of his presence.

"That's it," he said quietly. "You're okay. You're safe."

The words settled over you like a blanket. Your heartbeat was finally starting to slow, the frantic pounding easing into something more normal. The sick feeling in your stomach was still there, but duller now, more manageable.

"I don't know why you put up with me," you said quietly.

"Because I love you," he said immediately, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And this isn't something to 'put up with.'"

Another stretch of quiet. You could feel the trembling in your muscles beginning to subside, exhaustion taking its place. The bathroom floor was cold and hard beneath you, but Izuku's warmth made up for it.

"Can you...can you keep talking?" you asked, voice still shaky. "Your voice helps."

"Of course." His hand moved to gently stroke your hair, voice still rough around the edges. "What do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything. Just...anything."

So he did. He told you about a rescue he'd done earlier that week, about a cat that had gotten stuck in a tree and how the owner had cried when he brought it down safely. About how Kaminari had tried to cook dinner for everyone and nearly set the kitchen on fire. About a new coffee shop that had opened near his agency that he thought you might like.

His voice washed over you, steady and warm and real. With each word, you felt yourself settling back into your own skin, the panic receding like a tide going out.

"Better?" he asked after a while.

You took inventory—your breathing was mostly normal now, your heart rate had settled, the shaking had reduced to occasional tremors. You still felt scraped raw, emotionally exhausted, but the acute crisis had passed.

"Yeah," you said, and meant it. "Better."

For a while, you just sat in comfortable silence, wrapped in his warmth, letting the last traces of panic ebb away completely.

"I'm sorry," you finally whispered.

"For what?"

"For being such a mess. For having a breakdown in your bathroom."

"Hey." His hand moved to tilt your chin up gently. "You're not a mess. You're just human. And humans break sometimes."

You were quiet for a moment, still feeling raw. "I think I'm more fucked up than I realized," you said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Your kindness makes me feel sick." You rubbed your face tiredly. "Like, physically sick."

He looked confused, concerned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. When you're nice to me, I feel like I'm going to throw up." You shrugged, like it was just a fact. "I feel disgusting for receiving it. Like I'm a fraud."

"You're not a fraud," he said firmly. "You deserve kindness. You deserve so much, and I don't know if I'm doing this right, but—you're not taking something that isn't yours. You're worthy of it. You're worthy of everything."

You opened your mouth to argue, then pressed your lips together and said nothing. "I hate that I'm like this," you said simply. "I wish I could just be normal about it."

He was quiet for a moment, and you could see something pained cross his face. "This isn't—none of this is your fault, okay? I don't know if that helps but—"

You shrugged. "Doesn't matter whose fault it is. I'm still the one who has to deal with it."

"It does matter."

"Why? Whether it's my fault or not, I'm still broken." Your voice was matter-of-fact, like you were discussing the weather.

"You're not—you're not broken, okay? You're not."

"Then what am I?"

He was quiet for a moment, searching for the right words. "You're someone who's been hurt. Someone who's learning how to trust kindness again."

You let out a tired sigh. You were quiet for a moment. "What if it takes me a long time to learn to trust it?"

His hand paused on your back. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight that made you pay attention.

"I'll wait."

"What if you get tired of waiting?"

"I won't."

"What if I never learn?"

"Then I'll love you exactly as you are."

"You can't know that."

"I can know that. Because loving you isn't work, remember? Even the hard parts. Even this."

The words settled over you like a blanket, warm and protective and impossible to fully accept.

You wanted to argue, but you were too tired. Too emotionally wrung out to maintain your usual defenses.

"Okay," you whispered.

"Okay?"

"Okay, I'll try to believe you. Eventually."

You could hear the smile in his voice. "That's all I ask."

You closed your eyes and let yourself sink into the quiet comfort of being cared for. It still felt dangerous, trusting this kindness. But right now, in that moment, it was enough to just exist in it.

Even if you couldn't quite believe you deserved it yet.

While I appreciate likes, what really keeps me motivated to share my work is community and conversation! So if you enjoyed this, consider reblogging with tags, leaving a reply, or dropping an ask. I'd love to chat about my faves, anime, writing, or honestly anything else—hearing what you thought or what resonated with you always makes my day. 🖤

[woozisprincess]

Looking In Pt2: Night Away

Jihoon hates sleeping alone, so when you and Seungcheol inevitably leave his home to exchange your clothes, you just take him with you.

Looking In Pt2! @nononbon it is here!

Scoups x Fem Reader x Woozi

4k

Poly fic, Fluffy, silly, suggestive, making out, very Jihoon centric today, lots of open healthy conversations about the relationship, high Vernon

“This… is annoying,” Jihoon mumbled as he watched you and Seungcheol pack away the clothes you had brought to his place, now time to take them home and exchange them for new ones.

You and Seungcheol always stay at Jihoon's place. There wasn't really a reason other than him having the most spacious bed out of the three of you. That being said, his closet was half the size of yours or Seungcheol's, Jihoon being much more minimalist compared to the two of you. Meaning that at least once a week, you two had to swap out your clothes for new ones. And that meant that all three of you would likely be spending the night apart. None of you were fond of this. Especially not Jihoon.

Anyone on the outside would likely assume Seuncheol was the clingiest, but you know that Seungcheol's antics can't even come close to when Jihoon gets in one of his moods. You think that having such a large bed all to himself must feel a bit lonely.

You glanced up from your overnight bag, taking in how pouty your boyfriend was being. The sight made you giggle. “It's just one night baby, it'll be alright.” You tried to cheer him up but he remained perturbed.

“I just don't know why y'all need so much stuff.” His brows furrowed and his arms crossed in defiance. He stood in front of where you were folding on the floor. You chuckled at the wide stance his pasty legs had taken up. So dramatic.

“Well, unlike you, Cupcake and I can't get through the week strictly wearing black T-shirts and shorts.” Seungcheol mused from his spot on the bed.

His teasing only served to upset Jihoon further. Jihoon's feline eyes turned to thin slits as he glared at your shared boyfriend. “Well I'm not an attention whore who needs to constantly show off how hot I am.”

Jihoon pulled at the blanket Seungcheol was sitting on, causing the elder to jerk forward and knock over his overnight bag. A few shirts fell to the floor in front of you as you took in Seungcheol's bewildered expression. Since Seungcheol was always dishing out the princess treatment, it was really easy to forget that Jihoon wasn't the porcelain doll the two of you always treated him as.

“Baby!” Seungcheol whined, “My clothes!” He slumped over with a pout.

“Oops.” Jihoon mocked. Such a fucking brat.

“Okay-” You grabbed Seungcheol's clothes, tossing them back up onto the bed. “Let's chill out.” The smile on your face betrayed you.

Neither you nor Seungcheol would be able to return that night due to you both having work in the morning. However, Jihoon mostly worked from home, only leaving to his professional studio when he had clients.

“Let's compromise.” You suggest, zipping up your bag. Jihoon takes it from you without you needing to ask, helping you up from the floor in the process. “Why don't you come with one of us?”

Jihoon's arm wrapped around your waist, and you leaned into him to balance yourself. He looked surprised, like the thought had genuinely never occurred to him. You wondered if he ever stayed at Seungcheol's place before you actually joined the relationship, but then you recalled several nights where it was just the two of you watching anime and eating ramen. Maybe he genuinely never thought to leave his abode.

Jihoon's brows furrowed in thought. “Won't one of you be upset?”

You were going to reassure him with an ‘of course not,’ but then you glanced at Seungcheol who was already pouting.

“Just go with Cheol!” You patted him on the chest and began to pull away, satisfied with your solution.

“But-” Jihoon pulled you back “-that’s not fair.” The frown on his face was adorable.

“No-” you begin to argue but Seungcheol cuts you off.

“I agree.”

You look at the Leo man, baffled. You were sure he'd be on board. “What-” you maneuvered in Jihoon's hold to face him fully “-are you talking about?”

“Baby should go with you.” Seungcheol asserted.

You heard Jihoon hum in agreement from behind you. Your eyes widened in confusion.

“That's not any better!?”

“No, it's perfect,” Seungcheol stated. “He's going with you.”

Jihoon smiled knowingly at your noises of confusion as he pressed his face to the back of your neck. And his smile only grew when he locked eyes with Seungcheol. As obvious as the two men had been about wanting you prior to you being the long awaited new edition to their relationship, you were still very much a third wheel. And now that you were actually with them, they'd hate for you to feel like you were third wheeling in your own relationship. So Jihoon and Seungcheol agreed to put extra attention on you while you were still new to the arrangement, ensuring that you knew that you would always be wanted by them.

You continued to sputter in disbelief as Jihoon moved to pack his own overnight bag. “Are you sure? Cause I really don't mind-”

“Do you not want me to stay with you?” Jihoon rolled his eyes playfully, but you could see the sincerity in them.

“Well, duh, I want you to stay with me! But Cheol's been known to covet.” You joke, raising your brow.

Seungcheol and Jihoon share a look.

“Does that make any sense?” Seungcheol looks to the ceiling in thought.

“Not a bit!” Jihoon shouted from his closet.

“Why would I covet my boyfriend… from my girlfriend?”

“Sounds like a bad boyfriend!”

“Am I a bad boyfriend?” Seungcheol finally looked at you.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What- No!” You shook your head violently. “Why would you say that!?” You squinted at the man.

“You basically just accused me of it.” Seungcheol raised his hands in surrender.

“I was joking.” You let out a sigh. “Stop saying stupid things.”

“Uhuh.” Seungcheol patted the spot next to him. “Come here.”

You obliged, sitting down next to him.

Seungcheol reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I love you.” He said with a slight smile.

“I love you too.” Your brows furrowed at the sudden confession, but you reciprocated no less.

“Jihoon loves you.”

“I love Jihoon too.” You nod trying to follow along.

“We all love each other!”

“I agree!” You glance at Jihoon who was peeking from the closet. “What are you-”

Seungcheol's hand cupped your face, bringing your attention back to him. He looked at you, his eyes gentle, but stern. “That means no jealousy, no envy, and especially no coveting. Okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

“If I ever start acting weird, feel free to hit me upside the head.” Seungcheol asserted with a nod.

“I can't do that!” You gasp in shock, placing a hand over your chest.

“I can.” Jihoon chimed in, dropping his bag to the floor before laying across the bed. He was smiling.

“See, baby can do it.” Seungcheol offered.

“Baby has an affinity for violence.” You deadpan.

“I don't see how that's relevant.” Jihoon scoffs.

“Listen-” your free hand reaches for Jihoon who's already moved to lay on your thigh. “-I trust you guys! You don't have to go out of your way to make me feel included.” Your fingers mindlessly combed through Jihoon's short hair.

“But it's important that we do.” Seungcheol looks at you sincerely. “We don't know what the future holds, and we can't read each other's minds. So if doing all this now, brings you comfort in maybe a year when you aren't feeling too sure about everything, then we're gonna lay it on thick.”

Your heart must be made of butter the way it just melted. How could you ever feel unsure when your boyfriends were always so considerate?

-

“I'll miss you guysssss,” Seungcheol whined as he pulled both you and Jihoon into a tight hug.

You stood by Seungcheol's red truck that was parked in front of your apartment building. It was about that time for you and Jihoon to bid your eldest lover goodnight.

“I'll miss you.” You kissed him on the cheek.

“It's just one night,” Jihoon mumbled.

You looked at the smaller man bewildered. “Were you not the one having a fit about being left alone earlier?” You raised your brow at him and crossed your arms.

Seungcheol mirrored your actions.

Jihoon's cheeks went red at your reminder. “Y'all seriously don't need that many clothes…” he grumbled.

Seungcheol smiled, pulling Jihoon by his waist and pressing a kiss to his nose, then his lips. Jihoon reciprocated with a hum. Just a few months ago you would've never admitted to this, but this might just be your favorite view in the world. It's moments like this that are a great reminder that you're no longer just looking in. You are a part of this, and that means that you can intervene as you like. You place a hand on Seungcheol's biceps, grabbing his attention. You go for the kiss with no hesitation. His lips were always so soft and sweet, and the way they moved against yours made you weak in the knees.

Jihoon lets out a low whistle as you pull away. “At least we know our girl has no problem taking what she wants.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Cmon.” You grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the building. “Goodnight, Cheolie-pop!”

“Night, my loves!” Seungcheol shouted back.

“Night, Cheol!” Jihoon said.

When you and Jihoon finally made it inside your apartment, you were very unsurprised to find one Hansol Vernon Chwe, lounging in your living room with a blunt in hand. Jihoon on the other hand, seemed startled.

“What the fuck-”

You let out a sigh. “Non, fuck I tell you about smoking in here.”

Vernon's tired eyes flitted between you and your boyfriend. “Oh shit.” He let out a chuckle as he reached to put his blunt out in the ashtray. “Sorry.”

“Why…” Jihoon started.

“I told you, this mother fucker never leaves.” you dragged a hand down your face.

“You were being serious?”

“Sorry hyung,” Vernon interjects. “____, ain't tell me she was bringing company.” He squinted at you as if it were your fault.

“If you ever went home I wouldn't have to tell you!” You marched further into your home grabbing a can of air freshener from under the kitchen sink. “I know Seungkwan misses you!”

“I see Kwan all the time.” Vernon furrowed his brows.

“That's great, because you're gonna call him to pick you up now.” You aim the air freshener at your ascended friend.

Jihoon, who was still standing at the door, started laughing at the scene before him. So this was what you dealt with when you returned home.

“Okay, okay.” Vernon picked up his phone and began to dial his roommate. “But you know Kwan doesn't like when I smoke,” He grumbled.

“I don't like when you smoke!” You began spraying the surrounding area with pineapple breeze.

“Yeah, but I live with him.”

“Not really! I should be charging you rent!”

“Yeah but…” He was not going to finish that sentence. You knew it was useless trying to argue with Vernon when he was high.

When Seungkwan answered, you explained that you were evicting his roommate for the time being and he was more than happy to come get him.

“Sorry about that.” You mumble to Jihoon as you fall onto your bed.

Jihoon laughed, following suit. “It's okay. I didn't think you were being literal when you said he was always here, though.” He laid on his side to face you.

“Yeah… he never fucking leaves.” You chuckled. “I don't know why either. When I ask he always just replies ‘vibes,” whatever the fuck that means. But he washes dishes so…”

“And you're at mine most of the time anyways.”

“That too.” You let out a sigh, smiling at the man next to you. “It's still so odd to me.” You roll onto your back, your eyes drawing patterns in the bumps of your popcorn ceiling.

“What's odd?” Jihoon's brows furrowed. He observed your movements, the way you shift to fix how your shirt rolled up, how your nose scrunched when you caught a whiff of Vernon's favorite lazy day activity. Things so little that you'd think he was crazy if you knew he kept track of them. And if you knew for how long? Jihoon didn't even want to know. He didn't care to remember all those horrid years of pining anyway.

Jihoon watched as you hummed in thought, trying to find your words.

“Being your girlfriend.” You turn your head to the side, looking back at him. “Being Cheol's girlfriend. It's like… something that was so obviously falling into place, but I didn't put it together until it was actually happening.”

“And now-” You roll onto your stomach hoping to find a comfortable position to lay in. “-I’m in a relationship with like, my best friends. And it feels normal, like it was always meant to be this way. But it still comes to mind just how much has actually changed.” You finally decide to sit up straight, crossing your legs in front of you.

Jihoon is quick to sit up as well, scooching closer to you and letting his legs brush against yours. “I see what you mean.” Jihoon nods in agreement. He actually hadn't thought that much about it. He was just so fucking happy that you wanted to be with him and Seungcheol that it never really crossed his mind. Or maybe he was just thinking about it differently than you were.

“We've always been really close, probably too close.” Jihoon joked. “But actually being together like this is a completely different thing. I think I've been more focused on holding on than anything.” A shade of pink dusted over cheeks, his face going rosy from his confession.

You smile at him. “Well you don't have to worry about that, Ji, I ain't going anywhere.”

“Yeah?” It came out as more of a question than an agreement. It's not that Jihoon didn't believe you, he's known you for way to fucking long to question your sincerity. But what if you changed your mind? You decide that a life with two partners is way too overwhelming, and that this is no longer what you want. It was a thought Jihoon had been pushing away, but it's no good to keep it to himself.

“Yeah.” Your smile grew softer. You reached for your lover's hand, locking yours with his. His spaced out gaze then focused on you. “I thought a lot about this before I made my decision. Yeah two partners are bound to be twice as difficult as one. Yes, the thought of dating my best friends was scary because what if it all gets fucked up and we're not even friends before it's over?”

You breathe out a sigh at the harsh thoughts. “But ultimately, I decided to take the risk. I love you guys so much. And frankly. A world where I'm not the most important person to the two of you sounded like my own personal hell.”

Jihoon huffed out a laugh at that.

“But most importantly,” you begin, “a world where the two of you weren't ingrained in my life genuinely made my heart hurt. I may have been oblivious for a while, but I know it's true when I say I want this. More than anything, I want a life with you and Seungcheol.” Your free hand slaps your thigh to add emphasis.

Jihoon was fully blushing at this point, and he was unable to meet your eyes. And his heart, oh his heart. Was it warm? Or was it on fire? It was definitely beating fast. His eyes locked onto your intertwined hands, his thumb smoothed over the back of yours. He felt your grip tighten ever so slightly, and then your free hand was gently cupping his face, making him look at you.

“I love you.” Jihoon said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really fucking love you.”

“I love you.” You beamed at the man. “So much!”

And then you were leaning in, softly pressing your lips to his. Kissing Jihoon tasted like a walk on a sunny day, except it's drizzling just a bit. Always welcome and refreshing, the cool droplets completely in contrast to the blazing sun. Jihoon's hand moved to your neck, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. You hummed in satisfaction as your lips moved together. You licked across the seam of Jihoon's lips, asking him to open for you. He obliged. And as your tongues danced together, there came an awful ringing noise. It was your phone. You ignored it, pushing Jihoon into the mattress and climbing on top of him. Oh the noises he made were so sweet. His fingers squeeze your thighs, spurring you on. Your lips move down his jaw and… more ringing. But it's not your phone, it's Jihoon's.

You pull away, now fully aware of who was making these late night calls. Jihoon seemed to have put it together as well as he sat up, his hand firm on your back to keep you in place, and reached for his phone on the other side of the bed. And lo and behold, it was none other than the third piece of your trio. Jihoon answers the call and Seungcheol's face appears on the screen.

“Hey, Cheolie.” Jihoon mumbles, his lips already forming an involuntary smile.

You shuffled around so that your back was to Jihoon and you could face the little screen that held your other boyfriend.

“Hiiii.” Seungcheol's eyes squinted as he took in the scene before him. The disheveled hair, dazed eyes, swollen red lips. “Looks like I interrupted something?” He raised a brow in question.

You smirk at his accusations. “I was just making sure baby felt at home.” You bat your lashes.

This made Seungcheol chuckle. “Yeah? That's good, take good care of our baby.” He beams at you.

You hear Jihoon scoff. “I'm a grown man. No one needs to take care of me.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh?” You turn your head to the side to get a better look at the man behind you. Your fingers move to caress his face. “I guess I'll just leave you alone then?” You quirked your brow.

“Well… no.” Jihoon's brows furrowed.

“You better apologize, baby,” Seungcheol laughed.

Jihoon's frown only grew deeper with Seungcheol's teasing. “I will end this call right fucking now.”

“Okay, I'm sorry.” Seungcheol surrendered. “I'll just let cupcake handle you.” His eyes narrowed, the mischievous glint in them extremely evident.

“You know I got it.” You assured him. Your hand fell to Jihoon's thigh, the ‘smack’ sound muffled by the fabric of his shorts.

“Oh my god…” Jihoon whispered to himself. Normally he had more bark in him, but he was much too tired to be a brat right now. His arm wrapped around your waist and his head fell to your shoulder. “Not tonight.” He groaned.

You and Seungcheol both giggled at your partner. So fucking cute. You gave Jihoon's thigh a squeeze.

“Whatever you want, baby boy.”

Seungcheol could only smile at the two of you. His loves. He was gonna hug y'all so tight tomorrow.

You all talked for a bit longer, you and Seungcheol decided to call it quits when Jihoon had all but passed out while sitting up. You said your ‘goodnights,’ and ‘I love yous,’ and took your asses to bed.

-

Jihoon shuffled around your apartment with his camera, taking note of all your little trinkets and decorations with each photo he snapped. You watched him with a smile as he paid a great deal of attention to your shelf of cat ornaments.

‘click’

“When did you get these?” Jihoon asked, squinting at the blurry photo. “Shit,” he whispered.

“Jun brought me a bunch a few months ago” You watched Jihoon fix his camera settings before taking another photo.

‘click’

“He got em at a garage sale. This is only half of em, he has the rest.”

Jihoon hummed in acknowledgement before finding a new subject.

It really was bizarre the more you thought about it. You've known Jihoon since middle school, you remember him singing at the talent show so vividly. You were so in awe that you just had to approach him and tell him just how crazy, awesome his voice was. He was super shy, completely unable to make eye contact with you. Then when he placed 2nd, losing to a girl who tapped danced dressed like Shirley Temple, you were about ready to fight the teachers on his behalf. Jihoon, not being one to make a scene, grabbed your arm just as you were storming off. He told you that it was okay, he was just happy to have placed at all. You looked him up and down before agreeing, then you insisted on buying him ice cream with your allowance. You refused to take no for an answer.

And now, well over a decade later, he's one of your boyfriends. And that boyfriend was taking aesthetic Pinterest photos around your house. So bizarre.

You laid down on the couch, propping yourself up on your elbow. You and Jihoon were waiting for Seungcheol to be free from his day job. You had no clue what it was that a sports manager actually did, but it made a lot of money, and got you the best seats at games, so you suppose you couldn't be mad that they were keeping him a bit late.

Your eyes widened slightly when Jihoon pushed your coffee table to the side, and squated down a few inches behind where it once was, his camera aimed at you.

“Love.” You sighed.

“What?” Jihoon murmured, adjusting the zoom on his camera. His brows furrowed at your narrowed eyes. “I love you~” he sang.

Your smile was completely involuntary.

‘click’

Jihoon fiddled with his camera, zooming in on the photo he just took.

“Happy?” You questioned, still smiling.

Jihoon glanced at you, then back to the image. Your smile was soft and content. Oh his heart ached, such a beautiful smile. “Very” he hummed.

-

“My loves!” Seungcheol shouted, pushing himself off of his red truck when he saw you and Jihoon emerge from your apartment building.

“Cheolie-pop!” You shouted back.

Before you knew it, two strong arms had wrapped around you and Jihoon, the squeeze evicting all the air from your lungs. You let out a small ‘oof.’

“Cheolie!” Jihoon wheezes out. “You can't just- no air…”

Seungcheol yelped when Jihoon pinched him. Jihoon's efforts to free the two of you proved to be highly effective when Seungcheol released his viper-like hold.

“Why won't you let me love you?” Seungcheol pouted.

“If you kill us, there'll be nothing to love.” You grabbed Seungcheol's face, squishing his cheeks.

The large man only continued to pout at you, so you lean in, place a soft kiss on his lips. And like clockwork, his pout turned into a smile.

“Trueee, cupcake. You're so smart.” Seungcheol agreed as he took your's and Jihoon's bags, tossing them in the trunk.

Jihoon laughed at the interaction. “I think you're just a dumbass, Babe.”

“Well this dumbass has two partners so I think I'm doing pretty alright.” Seungcheol huffed.

“That's true, sweetness. He does have two partners.” You nodded in agreement with Seungcheol.

Jihoon's brows ticked. “I have two partners, you have two partners. Last time I checked, we were all in the same throuple!”

You held back your laughs as Jihoon ranted about the logistics of Seungcheol's very illogical argument. Seungcheol, on the other hand, was cackling like a hyena. Jihoon's eye twitched.

“Okay.” The pale man nodded. “Message received.”

Oh Lord. You do not make a fool of Lee Jihoon. You and Seungcheol were definitely in for it once you got back to his place. Safe to say, this only spurred the two of you on.

“Oh, baby.” Seungcheol cooed. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You looked to the sky in faux thought. “We should finish what we started last night, sweetness. Show Cheolie what he was missing out on.”

When you looked back to your lover, he was already crawling into the backseat of Seungcheol's truck.

“Burn in hell!” Jihoon shouted before closing the door.

You and Seungcheol smiled at each other before getting into the truck yourselves.

This was going to be fun.

(⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

An: Is... The Vernon bit funny, be honest. I love these guys a lot actually. This isn't really a solid pt 2 but like I just want write about them being silly and loving each other 🙏🏽 Maybe one day I'll make em sad... I'm sad often so it's actually pretty likely 💀 Also! Maybe prequel? Yeah? Yeah? Doesn't matter, I'm doing it anyway.

Also, I'm like, going through it bc Jihoon is literally leaving. Like he's literally leaving and I'm freaking out. This is lowkey worse than when bts left bc I'm super emotionally dependent on this man 😭 I'll be fine. I'm fine.

If you loved this? Please tell me‼️ If you didn't? I don't care, you can still tell me‼️

Reblogs and comments appreciated!!! You can also come and send me an ask!!! Lots of love!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So, what do you think of that frog plushie with Gabriel's voice? The idea is heartwarming, but it was only introduced after Gabriel died a terrible father.

For those not watching season six, the scene in question comes at the start of El Toro De Piedra. Marinette and Adrien are going through a box of items from when Adrien was six which leads to this:

Adrien: Woah hey Froggy! (He pulls out a frog plushie from the box) I love this plushie! (Adrien squeezes the plush it plays a sound mimicking Gabriel's voice) Froggy (toy): Knock knock. Adrien: Who's there? Froggy (toy): Papa. Adrien: Papa who? Froggy(toy): Papa corn. Adrien: I forget it did that. Marinette: That was your father's voice? Adrien: Yes. When I was a kid he could always make me laugh and then he started travelling... Thank you Marinette it's nice reminiscing about Papa corn.

Frankly, the plushie thing just confused and annoyed me because it's another example of season six's baffling writing around Gabriel. When they decided to have Marinette lie and present Gabriel as a hero to everyone, I assumed that they were going to lean into that and have Adrien view his father as a hero, too. That's not what they're doing though. The episode starts with the above scene and ends with this:

Adrien: Yeah, I'm fine. It's just...things were so hard with dad in recent years. How did he go from Papa Corn to father....I wish could face him like Ivan said and understand, but when he was still here I didn't try and tell him anything and now it's too late. Still I'm glad I got to remember Papa corn today thanks to you.

So the plushie is used to allow Adrien to remember what Gabriel was like before Emilie got sick leading to a scene where Adrien laments that his father drastically changed, causing them to have a strained relationship that never got resolved. At no point does Adrien talk about looking up to his father or viewing him as a hero. He even compares Gabriel to Ivan's father Raul who is a known supervillain. I look at that and go, "Why are we bothering with the lies if the writing is going this nuanced route with Adrien? Why let him have these complex feelings about his father if you're keeping him in the dark on the supervillain stuff? What's the end game here?"

Seriously, look at the above and ask yourself what would need to change if Adrien knew the truth. I think Adrien would need to be more conflicted, but that's about it as far as changes go. You could still have him remember good times with his father, be sad that those good times ended, and wish that he understood his father better. He's processing the Gabriel trauma just without the full picture and - as a viewer - it's both bizarre and upsetting! Seeing Adrien go through the grieving process knowing that it's all going to reset when he finds out the truth is aggravating!

Of course that's assuming that he learns the truth and grieves again which are big assumptions. I genuinely have no idea what this show is planning to do with the lies because the writing around them is so baffling! I also don't really care anymore. It's all so stupid and pointless that every new twist in canon just makes me go, "Sure, why not. Throw that BS in the mix, too. It makes about as much sense as the rest of this nonsense."

Speaking of BS, the plushie reveal annoyed me for another reason! A while back, I talked through the flashbacks in Werepapas and how they massively retconned the timeline for Emilie getting sick. El Toro De Piedra takes that retcon and seems to retcon it again because the plushie is explicitly from when Adrien was six and Adrien says:

Adrien: Yes. When I was a kid he could always make me laugh and then he started travelling... Thank you Marinette it's nice reminiscing about Papa corn.

But in Werepapas a young Adrien says:

Adrien: Does that mean that daddy doesn't love me? Émilie: Why would you say that? Adrien: Because we never see daddy. He's never here.

Oh, and just for fun, it doesn't fit this line from Origins either:

Adrien:(gets up while still holding Plagg) My dad's pranking me, right? Wait, he couldn't be. He has no sense of humor.

Or the fact that Emilie was supposed to be the one with the sense of humor or at least so said Feast:

Adrien: Mom's the only one who could make me laugh like that. Thank you, Plagg.

Consistency!!! (Yes, I'm salty that they're not embracing Emilie as the jokester. It's one of my favorite headcanons that I only have because of the scene from Feast. It was a nice way to hint at her having an actual personality plus I loved the idea of the mom being the funny one instead of the dad.)

Moving on!

My main point here is that we don't know Adrien's age in Werepapas, but it can't be much older than six, but now we're being told that Gabriel was an active father when Adrien was six which means that I'm once again totally lost as to what the timeline is for the Agreste plot. I also no longer care. I'm not putting more effort into this than the writers.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

https://www.tumblr.com/jakesimfromstatefarm/788896184471322624/hear-me-out-no-doubt-jakeyn-attempt-to-do-the?source=share

I'm really sorry but while reading your work ^ I noticed some lines read exactly like ai... or more specifically, the way chatgpt writes fanfiction when u ask it to .

please op, we want to read YOUR writing.. your thoughts, your worldbuiling.

please don't use ai for something like fanfics :( it's okay if you think your work isn't the best, any reader would still want that imperfect work rather than to read a fic and realise it was ai

hi anon! no need to apologize, it’s a valid concern and i completely understand where you're coming from.

i didnt want to defend myself because i know myself and that i don’t use ai in my writing — however it does upset me if people think i use ai of any sort in my writing :( esp because i've been on enhablr for so so long and started writing here since 2020...way before ai became more prevalent in society and i'd like to think my writing style is more or less the same ever since i started five years ago...

& it also upsets me because i share the same thoughts & values as you and do think fanfic should be something fun, genuine, and from the author's true words & perspective.

i'm not sure how chatgpt writes fanfiction when you ask it to in the first place, so i don't know how it compares — but clearly if even one person thinks ai writes my works, it means my writing doesn't seem 'real' enough or idk..true to emotions? so i am sorry as a writer because then clearly i still have lots to work on :') which is actually! a recent insecurity of mine that i've been struggling with with my writing as of recent lol and something i want to work on ㅜㅜ

again, im not going to defend my writing and my writing process or try to prove anything because i simply don't use ai and never have. and i myself know that and am confident in myself — however there's still much room for growth clearly and hope i can continue to work on that as i grow as a writer :)

[devisrina]

Sydcarmy and Benlicity

Special thanks to @emrambling for also making this connection between these two ships, you're fire chef.

Okay, so for those who don't know, Felicity was a show created in 1998 by JJ Abrams & Matt Reeves.

Felicity is a show about a girl named Felicity Porter as she tries to find herself after rejecting an offer at Stanford university to follow her crush, Ben Covington, to New York after he writes in her yearbook. Through the process of this, she realises Ben isn't all she's made up in her head, but still decides to stick it out in New York as a way to learn more about life and herself without relying on her parents.

Rings a bell yet???

As @emrambling mentioned, Sydney essentially also follows Carmy to New York through wanting to try the hamachi dish, and she felt connected to Carmy through the dish. And how that dish made her want to work alongside him at the beef.

Similar to this, Felicity used to follow Ben's track and swim team meets because she felt like it looked like such an amazing feeling, and she felt connected to how fast he ran because she wanted to run away from the expectations of her parents forcing her to become a doctor (Which she does end up pursuing but I will write another meta on this for).

When Felicity got to meet and talk to Ben, she kind of started to realise how imperfect he was. His homelife wasn't great; his dad was a raging alcoholic, and he felt like his mum was stuck in the middle of it because she would either forgive his dad or she'd feel distraught over how much Ben and his dad used to argue and fight. He thought that moving to New York and having his own life would benefit his mum in a similar way that Carmy going to New York would help Mikey, since he didn't want him working at the restaurant. We also know that Carmy doesn't remember much of his dad, so that's another similarity.

When Sydney met Carmy, she also started to realise how imperfect his life was despite working to the level of being the best chef in America. But like Felicity, even if Carmy isn't what she made him out to be, Sydney decided to stick with him because she WANTS to get to know him. I also think Carmy and Ben's facial expressions to Sydney and Felicity when they have conversations are always very similar. Ben has this level of compassion and softness that he shows to Felicity that I feel he finds difficult to express with others, and Carmy does the same thing with Sydney a lot. While Carmy does struggle with asking Nat and the others how they're feeling, he has no problem asking Sydney how she's feeling.

Ben also doesn't think he deserves good in his life because he has deep-seated trauma from his dad that made him feel like he didn't deserve Felicity. Felicity always believes that he is good enough and is trying to continue to be better as a person. It's the way that Sydney empathises with Carmy's upbringing and understands that while he can be difficult, he is a well-meaning person.

There is a specific episode (Spooked season 1 episode 5) where Ben and Felicity deal with an armed robbery, and Ben is very visibly emotionally rattled by the situation. He kind of leans on Felicity for solace. Ben and Felicity have late-night talks to help Ben sleep after the trauma of that incident, kind of like Carmy and Sydney creating the thoughtful chaos menu and the later s2 episode 9 table scene.

But then, following that, at a Halloween party, Ben ditches the idea of going as Frankenstein. They talked about going as a 'couple costume' with Felicity going as Frankenstein's bride before. But instead, Ben "rejects" Felicity by going as Peter Lawford. Which reminds me of the time Carmy asked Sydney to go on the food tour and then ditched her for Claire. Ben also ends up kissing a random girl at the party, which is like how Carmy kisses Claire. But towards the end of that episode, realising how upset he made Felicity, Ben comes to terms with how shitty he has been to Felicity and gifts her a necklace in place of what she told him during their late-night chats about how her grandmother's necklace got stolen during the armed robbery. Which is like how Carmy gifted Sydney the Chef's coat upon seeing his custom one.

Ben ends up dating Felicity's friend Julie. Julie has also liked Ben since the episode Felicity introduced them. Julie ends up not trying to date Ben for a while because she knows Felicity likes him romantically. But then, when Felicity has something with Noel (There is a major love triangle between Felicity, Ben, and Noel), Julie decides to give it a go with Ben since Ben reciprocates interest in Julie. What I find interesting with the Ben/Julie relationship is the fact that Ben is emotionally immature at this point in season 1, so he ends up pushing Julie away, and he never talks to her about serious stuff. But you know who he continuously talks serious stuff to??? Felicity. And that reminds me of Carmy and Claire's dynamic. No matter how much time Carmy and Claire spend together, Carmy will always try to talk to Sydney and open up about real stuff (like when he asked her what her relationship with her mum was like or when he kept asking her about her dad, and everything in the table scene lol).

Ben and Felicity also become coworkers at Dean & Deluca, like Carmy and Sydney are. And I feel like their dynamic is a lot like how Carmy and Sydney's is. Because even if the interactions they have in their place of work aren't romantic, they clearly place them with the intention that you're supposed to pick up on what kind of dynamic they have. Like they'll naturally be close and talk to each other and have their own things going on, which makes it nice that Ben has his own life outside of being a love interest, and Felicity isn't always pining after Ben, and their conversations are very natural, and you can feel them growing closer.

Whenever Felicity reminds Ben of an accomplishment he made in high school, he always smiles to himself in a very genuine way, like he's very touched by what she says about him. It's like how Carmy struggles to really step into enjoying his craft, but he was genuinely touched when Sydney told him he was the most excellent Chef in the United States of America. It's really cute.

Also, whenever Ben gets jealous, it's more subtle and involves visual cues. Because when Felicity officially starts dating the other guy in the love triangle, Noel, and she makes out with him in the bathroom, Ben sees.

He doesn't mention it to Felicity to embarrass her near the others afterwards, since it was Felicity's business to deal with, and they had a Thanksgiving dinner to attend. It's like when Sydney got Shapiro's offer and Carmy knew about it during s4 episode 6 'Sophie' but withheld telling her since she was going through her dad having a heart attack. Ben only decided to mention it to Felicity in the following episode because it was to show us, as the audience, that he is naturally curious about the fate of Felicity's decision about what she and Noel are. It was to also show how much Ben cares about Felicity more and more like Carmy does for Sydney.

Also, Ben's dynamic with his Landlord, Sean, is like Carmy's dynamic with Richie. Sean is older than Ben, like Richie is older than Carmy. Richie has a lot of theatre references in his dialogue, which is like @thoughtfulchaos773's theory that Richie is the director of the show. Sean is the director of a documentary he created about Ben and his college friends' lives, and he made a documentary about Felicity and Noel (when Noel is confused when his ex gf reenters the picture, Felicity loses her virginity to an artist named Eli. This causes a strain in their relationship). Sean decides to ask Ben if he's bothered by what is happening, and Ben asks why, and Sean's like "Because it's always been Ben or Noel, Ben or Noel, now it's Noel or Eli." And Ben responds, "So what?" and Sean's like "You're not jealous?" and Ben responds in a very unconvincing way of "No, I'm not jealous," then he pauses before saying again, "I'm not." And this is while Ben is still with Julie. So Sean is bringing into question Ben's feelings for Felicity in the same fashion that Richie did in the restaurant scene when Carmy brought in Claire. Richie was like, "You nervous?" alluding to the fact that Sydney was also in the room. I feel like neither Sean nor Richie does anything in a way that pushes Ben or Carmy into making a decision to come to terms with their feelings, but rather, it's a genuine point of thought that they're questioning with Ben and Carmy. Because we know Felicity liked(s) Ben, but up until this point, we didn't know what Ben thought about Felicity in a romantic sense.

Okay, I don't want this post to be too long, I'll make another, so this will be the last thing to mention. Remember when Carmy kept asking Sydney to go to the Ever dinner with him? In the Season 1 finale of Felicity, Ben wanted Felicity to go cross-country with him and to go home to Palo Alto (They both are from Palo Alto, like how Sydcarmy are both from Chicago), while Noel wanted to go to Berlin with her. Firstly, Felicity repetitively denies wanting to go cross-country with Ben because he had just broken up with Julie, and she KNOWS it will not be platonic if they go together. I feel like Sydney not wanting to go to the Ever dinner with Carmy is like this because she KNOWS this might cross some lines between professionally working together and getting closer. IT IS BEN AND CARMY who don't actually mind if they cross those lines. Ben WANTS to be with Felicity. Carmy WANTS to be closer to Sydney, whether it starts with being friends and becoming closer, to being even more than that. Ben asks countless times, and even asks to the very LAST MINUTE before he leaves to drive cross country if Felicity will go with him, and Carmy doesn't let Sydney refuse till he gets a confirmed answer that Sydney wants to go to the Ever dinner with him.

With Noel wanting Felicity to go to Berlin with him, Felicity thinks about how glamorous it would be. It's like the two sleepovers Sydney mentions. Like how she described with Shapiro, that she could have all the possible resources of a restaurant handed to her. For Felicity, it would be travelling to Berlin and having that amazing experience to see the atmosphere.

But it wouldn't make Sydney or Felicity happy.

Why, you may ask?

It would be with the wrong person.

Felicity and Sydney both knew it. Felicity would rather go Cross Country WITH Ben, and Sydney would rather stay in the "Musty House" Because she wants to work at the Bear and she WANTS Carmy.

And Felicity chooses Ben, and Sydney chooses Carmy.

Special thanks to everyone who read this long ass post. I hope y'all get something out of this.

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[twilight-good-yall-dumb]

the crazy thing about Liam is that I finally got to a point a few weeks ago where reminders of his death became a sort of sad exhale and a "shit. that really happened, huh?" But any time I allow myself to ruminate on it for more than a moment, his absence descends again upon me like a dark shroud. Because how can one of those boys be gone? Forever? How can this band that I've loved for so long be so permanently altered? It's so fucking wild and difficult for me to comprehend in that context. And in the context of age, the fact that I am still relatively young and have gone through the death of a childhood idol already? The fact that he was so young? It's just so immensely devastating in a way that feels so intangible because he is not and never has been a tangible part of my life. Parasocial grief is really something else, huh?

[lunarharp]

"Found out" set in kind of a made-up chapter where the girls are in trouble, or something.

[slingbats]

idk i'm sorry :/ i just don't have that much negativity about arbitrary things in me and don't feel very welcome anywhere

[seeinganewlight]

you deserve to be happy. remember to fight for that

[david-watts]

I don't want to talk about this too much for a few reasons but firstly. incredible how different things can seem if you're not suffering symptoms. truly the 'nothing in life matters' meme but replace it with 'I know nothing about my favourite guy (t. e.)'. but still hole in brain aside most of that was suffering symptoms as bad of an excuse as either of those are

[hermitsdump]

kind of amazing how you can spend 99% of your life forgetting about someone's existence and still have nightmares about them for... nearly 20 years at this point. it's been 10 years since seeing them. fucj

[atenceladusiaawfytbwb]

Saw one of the mean girl group (four or five big writers) anyway, day absolute ruined, I though -I was sure- I had them all blocked.

(They write a lot of basic white(gringo) dark fanfic, so maybe I'm just taking it the bad way. But I genuinely think they mean bitches, doing exactly the popular girls proces, where something is omg so funny heheha so crazy😜 until is done by someone out of their group (or simply on a bad day), then suddenly is "Can't you take this seriously 😠? You are disrespecting me as a person/writer, blocked💅"

What am i saying? I don't dislike them, I fucking hate them.

[catboydan]

.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

I love this scene because even after everything, the first thing Naesala does when he gets into the room is react in panic about Reyson and Leanne being unconscious. In that short moment, he just reacted on the instinct that he's always cared about them, despite how shaky things had gotten with Reyson a few years ago and how he was forced to do the things he did (including with the Laguz Alliance in RD).

If he was thinking logically and had a moment to process the situation, he might've stood back and pretended to care less than he actually did, as is usual for him. In this case he didn't hesitate to react and ran to them as soon as he walked in, because it was a knee jerk reaction.

If he sat back and thought about it, he would've known Tibarn was going to start making threats and trying to pick a fight, but his genuine desires overcame logic for just a second long enough for him fear for Reyson and Leanne. As long as the two of them are alive and well, he can continue putting on that mask and faking his way through it. If there's any chance they're in life threatening danger, he'll change course to make sure they're safe (such as refusing to fight Reyson when he was in service to the Crimean army, even at his own expense).

Since Naesala wasn't aware how badly the herons were being affected by the medallion, he wasn't aware in advance that they were in any danger. He doesn't know what happened here, so he walks in and suddenly sees them unconscious on the floor. For all he knew, it could've been life threatening - hence his instant response that didn't wait for his brain to register that he's supposed to be playing the bad guy. I think the only reason he could calm down and conclude it wasn't is because nobody else was panicking/grieving with the implication of a possible death.

(And fwiw, yes, he did have to technically sell Reyson to Oliver in PoR. If he didn't abide by something the senate wanted, Oliver could just make up some story to Lekain to get him to trigger the Blood Pact. Naesala knew he was being a snake to get the whole thing to happen, but he did technically have to go through with it the moment anyone from the senate wanted something from him)