#not to be depressing in new year's eve but i feel so shit right now...

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[afewproblems]

The Holiday Party had gone quite smoothly, more than he was expecting if Steve was being honest with himself.

Until about halfway through, but that was pretty par for the course.

Jonathan had unearthed an old Rummoli Board from a box labeled 'Basement Misc', the Byers were still in the middle of unpacking from their move back to Hawkins, and brought it alongside a bottle of wine that Nancy had managed to smuggle from the Wheelers liquor cabinet.

Robin, who rode with Eddie and Argyle, brought pizza, the only copy of It's A Wonderful Life from Family Video, and way too much weed for just the six of them.

"It isn't a party without a little Kush Stevie," Eddie had told him, clapping his warm hand on Steve's shoulder, his thumb just high enough to rest on bare skin above the collar of his sweater.

All Steve could do was roll his eyes and take the pizzas, quickly ducking into the kitchen before Robin or, God Forbid, Eddie could comment on the pink flush that had taken over his face at the new nickname.

Robin had been insisting that Steve just tell Eddie how he felt for the last few weeks. Rip the bandaid off and come clean. What was the worst that could happen?

Which, really Robin?

Steve knows exactly what happens when someone puts themselves out there only for the other person to not feel the same way. His whole argument was currently sitting in his living room for fucks sake.

Sure, Steve and Nancy were on better terms now, but it also took two years to get there, and even still, there was a weird tension when they found themselves alone together.

So, no, telling Eddie was not an option, Robin.

Steve could keep it together. He could deal with the ache in his chest at the sight of Eddie's smile. Steve could deal with the way his heart beat quickened whenever Eddie said his name. He could deal with the heady flush that bloomed every time Eddie touched him.

He was fine, it was fine.

And, movie nights like these were nothing new in the wake of Vecnas defeat and the destruction of the Upside Down. Steve needed to keep it together if he wanted to continue to have this. Nights without the kids to look after or the adults to hide their indulgences from, these were the nights where they could truly relax.

These were Steve's favourite, and he was not going to let some Bullshit feelings stand in the way of being able to see Eddie.

This Christmas Eve found the six of them lounging on pillows and extra couch cushions from the basement to make the 'best movie watching set-up thank you very much', according to Robin, and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the umpteenth time.

"I can't believe that George Bailey would wish for something like that, when it's so obvious that people care about him," Robin scoffs at the top of her voice about halfway through the movie, prompting a irritated Shush from Nancy.

"That bro is depressed man, it's like a cry for help, and on Christmas, this shit is heavy dude," Argyle hums, lifting his fist up to Robin who shakes it with a wild grin. The two erupt into violent giggles which begin to creep into Steve and Eddie and eventually Jonathan as well. Nancy rolls her eyes but can't help the smile that takes over her face as well.

"Who would wish to never be born when you could just wish for the bank to like, not fuck you over, seems like a waste of a wish if you ask me," Eddie says as the last traces of giggles begin to finally disapate.

"Ooo, Eddie's right!" Robin says as she reaches for the remote, hitting pause on the movie. She waves her hands through the chorus of groans from everyone except Eddie who turns around to Steve with an incredulous expression on his face.

Steve shrugs as Robin continues, unable to look away from those large brown eyes until a hand darts out to smack him in the chest.

"Steve, pay attention," Robin huffs, "let's go around and share what we would wish for!"

Oh shit.

Steve turns on the couch to fully face Robin with narrowed eyes. She grins at him, lifting a single eyebrow as her blue eyes dart between Eddie and Steve.

Steve opens his mouth to argue, to insist that they just carry on with the movie, only for Eddie to drum his hands against his knees and speak.

"Oh birdie, I'm way ahead of you, this is Wayne's favorite Christmas movie so I've done a lot of thinking 'bout this".

Eddie clears his throat and lifts his hands from his knees now as though he's about to launch into a story for Hellfire, "I would personally wish for the money to be able to fund Corroded Coffin full time, get a demo done, and then be able to kiss this fucking one horse town good bye!"

Steve feels the words hit him like a bucket of cold water.

Eddie wants to leave Hawkins.

His wish, his dream, for forever from the sounds of it, is to leave them all behind.

To leave Steve behind.

The voices from the group, pitched high and low, all blend together into one as the rest of the group share their own wishes.

Steve absently feels a small hand grip his own, he looks up to see Robin staring at him, a worried frown pinched between her eyebrows. He answers her silent question with a shake of his head.

It was fine, he was fine. This was a good thing, better to know now than later when Eddie would inevitably leave him behind.

"Stevie?"

Steve startles as a ringed hand waves precariously close to his face. Eddie smiles faintly at him, one dimple on display as he speaks again.

"Kinda lost you for a second there, what about your wish?"

"Oh," he manages to say with a slight laugh in his voice, even as his brain fills with static, "um, I haven't ever really thought about it, maybe some new music or something".

Nancy and Jonathan both boo loudly from the love seat while Argyle nods with a hazy smile.

"Right on my man, sounds like Eddie'll be able to help when his band makes it big," he says before turning back to the television and slumping even more heavily into the couch.

Steve forces out another bright laugh, ignoring how much it burns his throat and crushes his chest. The only thing keeping him in his seat is the firm hold of Robin's hand on his own.

He doesn't look at Eddie as he leans forward to press play on the movie once more, letting the music and dialogue fill the room once more.

Later, as the end of the credits roll and the tape switches back to static, Nance and Jonathan are fast asleep. The pair are cuddled up on the love seat, their heads leaning against one another. It would almost be cute if not for the pang of envy that fills Steve at the sight.

Steve tries to bask in the warmth of having Robin cuddled into his side, knowing it will alleviate at least some of the ache in his chest. Robins eyes have been steadily growing heavier as she slowly falls further and further into Steves side. He smiles, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face.

At least he has Robin, and maybe for now that is enough.

***

This is a part one, let me know if anyone would like a part Two?

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/2/2024

it’s quite satisfying how the year started on a monday

listening

first song of the year: how could it be anything other than Sabata. this is the theme from the titular Sabata, i meant to pick the theme from Return of Sabata but im not mad about it.

-

reading

i read Tim Marchman’s Popping Tins newsletter (a newsletter about fish and seafood) less bc i enjoy locking Mack in the bathroom every time i want a tuna melt and more for the droll authorial voice. i have bought a tin of mackerel after reading some entries, and it was very good but much much richer than tuna.

What should I do with this can of krill meat?

after consulting the importer’s website:

This is accompanied by a photograph of the can featuring easily-discerned black eyes, which are nothing to be concerned about, according to the company that produces this can. The first question on its FAQ page is “What are the little black speckles in my can?” “No need to be concerned here!” the answer reads. “Your meat is not dirty, and you did not get a defected can. Our Antarctic Krill meat contains the most nutritious parts of the krill, which happen to include their eyes.

…

The risks here are clear: I could vomit when I open the can and see the nutritious black eyes staring at me; I could destroy the peace in my home by making it smell like sautéed and simmered krill; and/or I could ruin a perfectly delicious lunch by introducing nutritious eyes and hard bits of chitin.

i have no memory of how i found this newsletter.

i keep forgetting i have ten hoopla credits a month through my old library and i want to read more comics this year bc reading comics is fun. in the past in practice this means ive binged all ten credits over a weekend. this weekend i had time for exactly one.

The Riddler: Year One is an extremely direct tie-in to the movie and i think it’s neat they let the riddler’s actor paul dano go wild with his backstory and then turn it into a comic. it’s fun when actors get to do weird tie-in shit.

(non-sequential pages)

watching this forensic accountant’s brain crack and scramble like an egg as he struggles to really grasp the enormity of gotham corruption and why the city is such a dogshit miserable place to live in made me go “oh huh that was a pretty good writing decision in the movie”. not that the riddler was terribly stable to begin with but the despair and the unraveling were very effectively conveyed. this comic has a lot of fun with funky layouts (left) and an entire issue (right) is conspiracy board shit on top of accounting forms which is a neat artistic choice.

deeply depressing but an interesting new little window into the rpatz batman (god i hope we get more rpatz batman films) and fun to look at.

how i found this: trawling the popular comics page on hoopla

-

watching

this is the seventh year of starting a new-to-me classic black and white movie around 1030/11 PM New Year’s Eve and i am annoyed i didn’t like the movie that started this year but, according to the data, it’s been fifty-fifty so far.

previous years have featured: sunset boulevard, yojimbo, the thin man, it happened one night, bringing up baby, the big sleep, and now roman holiday (1953, dir. Wyler).

this is the platonic ideal of a classic movie. it’s not sterile but it’s so… unobjectionable. wholesome (derogatory) even. not particularly what i was looking for in a movie but, much like the gelato and champagne that pop up, it was kind of a sweet nothing. i don’t think anyone eats any real food this whole movie?

this is never a movie that feels rushed. it is two hours of watching beautiful people traipse around a beautiful city in beautiful edith head costumes. i would not say there is a lot of tension for the first hour and a half. however, imo, it does land its ending and for that i can forgive it a great deal. this is another beautiful movie that is simply not for me.

-

playing

have you ever wanted an open world rpg where you play as a shark? congrats, this was apparently free on epic a while back

Maneater has a tremendously fun prologue where you play as the soon-to-be-dead mother shark who is absolutely going to town on a crowded beach and destroying multiple spear-gun-wielding divers and multiple boats full of citizens exercising their second amendment rights. this prologue is an excellent choice by the game bc it locks the fun part (eating people) behind several hours of really grindy shit. i am not entertained by the grind of eating progressively larger muskellunge, avoiding alligators, and collecting license plates. the grind is EXCEPTIONALLY grindy, i put about three hours into it and have only gotten to level 5 (teen) and have only two mutations i can sink loot into (four types of loot gained from eating other fish. this is too many types imo). i am not anywhere near a recommended level to start fucking humans up. im also not super impressed with the open world aspects of it— there are not a lot of things to do, discover, or interact with in the first two areas.

this seems like a really fun game that clotheslined itself with a cripplingly slow upgrade cycle. im sure the mid and late game are hysterically fun, especially on stream. however i am not willing to put in the hours to get to the fun part when i could immediately be having fun in some other game.

-

making

a lot of profoundly uninteresting cleaning. after not being able to figure out why my office (where Phil [no longer in heat. for now] lives) still reeks of piss even after stealing a blacklight from a friend and cleaning with a blacklight, it is of course bc she has been pissing in secret places i didn’t think she could get to. upside down smile emoji. both the girls got their monthly flea goop yesterday and were deeply unhappy about it.

most of my plants died in the move and i am finally tackling the survivors. fan favorite giant snake plant (not pictured, tidied up and inside) did make it and pull through but is not happy about it. now that i have baby basil and baby dill sprouting in the kitchen i do need to do something with the balcony so they have somewhere to grow up study and strong.

also slammed that silly little blondeyes NFT thing up on the archive

[hooved]

my sister's bf who she was living with died on new year's eve and i'm really worried about her and i keep crying just imagining how painful this must be for her and i know that's all that should matter right now and i know this is gonna make me sound like an awful fucking horrible selfish person but after how awful this past year has been for me i just can't help feeling angry that none of my problems will ever matter anymore. like who gives a shit that i got kicked out for some stupid fucking reason and couldn't sleep and was scared to leave my room for food or to use the bathroom becausei didn't want my mom's ex to scream at me and i hurt myself rushing to pack up everything i own to put in storage as i was sick with covid and my face was fucking soaked with tears and then i had to use up all of my savings to help pay for hotel rooms and then i had to move 4 hours away from everyone i know with no easy way to ever see them again and now i have no fucking irl social life after FINALLY having the kind of social life i wanted after isolating myself out of fear of covid for THREE YEARS, have completely given up on building a new social life here because no one here is my kind of people, everyone who is moves away, one of my partners broke up with me, there's nothing to fucking do here, it's not even a good idea to leave the house rn to begin with so who fucking knows when i'll do ANYTHING again, i have no privacy, everyone's always around me and making noise so i'm always overstimulated and can't even talk to my friends or bf on mic, i just have no fucking energy anymore to maintain most of my friendships, i'm just so fucking tired and depressed and angry all the time because my life sucks and it's making me act like such a cunt to people who i'd usually be able to just ignore because i have better shit to do but i DON'T have better shit to do now and nothing to look forward to and no hope anymore of ever leaving this kind of situation or ever being happy again so now i'm considering just going all in and not giving a shit about myself anymore and letting myself ruin all of my relationships until i have nothing left. but i'm not the one whose partner died so who gives a shit. none of it fucking matters anymore and i feel like a fucking idiot for hating my life because it's not like someone i love died or anything. i'm such a fucked up person

[gatitties]

Gifts

─ Dbd x gn!teen!reader

─ Summary: you want a Christmas present and you know how to use it a lot

─ Warnings: none

8 < 9 > 10

The entity's realm was a cold place, there didn't seem to be any change of seasons beyond slight changes in temperatures, The Entity didn't care about it either, it's not like she wanted to take care of the people she had there, they were just mere puppets, so they could entertain her, killers or survivors, they were all replaceable.

How you found out you were on new year's eve was baffling to her, it only snowed a little bit in that desolate dark forest where she kept her puppets, and it's not like it hadn't snowed a few other times before, but you had that mentally detector, you just knew, you knew it was Christmas, or New Year, or just that time of year was close or had just passed, it was your sixth sense.

That, and that your fyp was completely related to that kind of thing, mystery solved, new problem found, gifts! Where were your Christmas presents? Besides all that family stuff blah blah blah… you didn't have your loved ones here, even though you could see some survivors as siblings or even parents (maybe even some killer), so most importantly were the gifts.

You were a spoiled brat, you weren't going to hand out handmade gifts or anything like that, you weren't going to be any more godly around this time, because it didn't feel like those days, so you went on with your daily shit, just making a little deal with the entity. You would stop sabotaging the games on both sides for a week.

Oh yeah, both survivors and killers realized how influential you were, if they offered you something you liked, depending on the person, you would sabotage a trial in favor of killers or survivors, basically the respective group would win 10% more chance of a victory if they managed to get you to collaborate either on one side or the other.

Could this be a little immoral? After all, you were part of the survivors but… you didn't discriminate against anyone! Or rather, you weren't going to deny the benefits they offered you, which could range from getting Meg to record a stupid video with you to Anna teaching you how to throw axes, you'd even sell yourself for some cookies, but who cares? Well, The Entity, but you didn't give a shit about her.

The thing is, you kept your promise, denying the blackmail you were offered for a whole week, it was hard not to accept your favorite dessert when The Trapper offered it to you, or even the offer to see Ace dressed as a chicken, you had to deny it for one higher weight ratio.

You were currently in a trial along with Ada Wong, Leon and Mikaela, the killer was a relatively new one, just like Ada, Albert Wesker, or aka "depression fuck me hard but I fuck it harder", yes, a your eyes this guy was some kind of uncle who was divorced like eight times and has five children scattered around the world without knowing where they are. You guessed correctly, Albert couldn't stand you one bit, but don't worry! His heart will soften with you just like the others did, otherwise this wouldn't be a fanfiction hehe.

But he still hates you, even though he wasn't focused on you in this game, having Ada and Leon here he just wanted to take his rage out on them while you and Mikaela were doing generators, more her than you, because you were an idiot for post-apocalyptic romance and Leon and Ada seemed to be having that right now

"This is better than the Turkish romance series that my mother watches…"

You grabbed a handful of popcorn from a bag that had mysteriously appeared in your hands, plot necessities!, You watched as they both ran from Wesker holding hands, your mind traveling to those kinds of scenes in other movies you remembered, only that in those movies the killer doesn't have statistically more speed than you in a general way, you saw like the permanent red light of the murderer illuminated the two figures more and more.

It was time to make use of your Christmas gift!

You grabbed one of the Orbeez pouches that you had hanging on your waist as ammunition, pouring a decent amount into the chamber of your personal pistol, smiling maniacally, you aimed with complete concentration at the back of Wesker's neck, without thinking twice about an amount of small balls impacted against the man, distracting him for a few seconds enough so that the blow he was going to launch did not reach Leon.

"Damn brat-"

He didn't even have time to turn when more balls flew towards his face, directly into his glasses causing it to fly away from his face, you gained his attention once and for all, hoping there weren't too many generators missing because you were still terrible at chasing.

"Nerf or nothing old man!"

You jumped off the balcony you were on, as he approached your position, you ran as fast as you could, blinding Wesker by shooting him right in the eye (taking his glasses off in the process all those times). You only stopped when your Orbeez ran out, you couldn't reload your Nerf gun with anything else so it didn't take long for you to be put on a hook, but it was worth it because you won that match, at least the other three came out unscathed, you were sacrificed under the angry look of the man in black.

New weapon unlocked!

Nerf gun.

New perk unlocked!

You ensure 10% victory if you are offered something of interest (works mainly with food)

[gashface]

HEY GUYS!!! ,

This weeks prompt, was set out to learn more about your models, and delve a bit into their lives! <;3 These stories should be an important moment in their life, or just a memory that shaped them.

WARNING: This weeks prompt has a couple trigger warnings, which will be listed above the edit, so keep this in mind and proceed with caution &lt;3

With this in mind, onto the results! This week I was looking for edits that embrace your models story again, but from an earlier time in their lives. The main focus was on storytelling this week, and the edits reflecting this story. Whether this be directly, or in an abstract manner.

Charline Morel by @cyazurai

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras…” Fifteen-year-old Charline could hear her own voice singing, and she knew she was, but there was no heart in it. She hated singing. Well, perhaps she didn’t hate it, but through the circumstances she had grown to despise it. “.. qu'il me parle tout bas…” A tear streaked down her left cheek and she avoided her mother’s disapproving gaze. Beside her, her little sister Delphine enthusiastically played her violin to accompany her as they entertained their parents’ guests. “... le vois la vie en rose.” Another tear, this time on the right. This was not a sad song. This was a happy, romantic song. She should be putting her all into it, but all she could feel was the walls closing in. She was surrounded by people she could no longer see - they were just becoming only silhouetted blurs, judging her and family. They must be perfect. This happens every year. It was her parents’ New Years Eve party, and every year it was her and her sister’s obligation to make sure not to disappoint the hundreds of prestigious guests their parents invited. They had to be perfect or else. She hated this. She hated it. She didn’t want to be forced to sing just for a little bit of positive attention. Why did she have to do this? Why did Delphine have to be perfect at the violin just so that their parents might agree to let them go out for ice cream (when it wasn’t even a guarantee)? It was unfair. It was at this moment that Charlie realized she didn’t want to do this anymore, and so as the tears streamed down her cheeks, she decided to pour her heart into it one last time - because next year, she was going to be her parents’ performing monkey over her dead body.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 8/10

STORY: 10/10

EXECUTION: 9/10

STYLE: 9/10

Parker Winston by @morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy

TW!: Suicide, self harm, mental health

Hi! My name's Parker, and I've tried to commit suicide multiple times. I know you're thinking that's a morbid and socially awkward way to introduce myself, but hey, it's a big part of my story and who I am. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot more to a person than just their mental health, but a lot of the time, these things tend not to get discussed, period. Let alone when we are trying to get to know somebody, so for today, I hope we can put that stigma aside, and I can tell you a little about my journey.

I have ADHD, and depression is something I have lived with as far back as I can remember. By the time I was twenty, I had tried to kill myself three times, I had a family that didn't talk to me, I'd cut my arms up so much my forearms were more scar than skin, my heart was crushed by someone I thought was the love of my life, and I was hooked on anything I could get my grubby little hands on.

I think about that shit a lot, the things I did, and the decisions I made. I think about the person I was and the person I am today.

They're wildly different people, but now that I'm able to see it from another side, I realize one can't exist without the other. I would've never learned the things I did, and I couldn't have grown from it. It was hell, and I had to claw those life lessons from my struggle like a damn wolverine, but hey, I survived! Despite my best efforts... Yeah, I know that's not funny, but if you don't laugh sometimes, you'll cry, and I'm sick of crying about it.

I hated who I was, and I had a hard time coping with everything I did, not just the suicide attempts but everything. Though I finally realized I couldn't change the past, but I could change the future.

I could get help, and I could make sure none of that ever happened again. I can't change the past, and it aches to know that somewhere in space and time, that kid is still struggling, and I wish I could talk to him... I don't know what I'd say to him because I know he wouldn't listen and probably just lift my wallet. But I still want to hug him, tell him that really it's all going to be okay, that he needs to let go of a lot of shit and learn to love himself, then I'd tell him to get rid of that asshole's shitty T-shirt.

The pain you feel, it's not for nothing, but it's also not forever. You'll learn from this, and in a way you least expect it, it will come full circle. Ease up on the drugs, stop cutting, and get yourself some help. I know you don't think you deserve it, but you do! And believe it or not, one day you're going to have a lot of people that want and need you around. This shit doesn't get any easier, but it does get better. You just need to let it.

So tell that jackass his band ain't shit, tell your parents they're full of shit, and tell your siblings you love them even though they all suck, hang onto your friends, don't be so scared, let yourself feel, and listen to yourself once in a while! You know yourself better than you think, and you know what you need, and guess what! The answer isn't always coke! I can't help that kid anymore, but I can help the one's reading this, and if in this moment you feel hopeless, do me, a stranger on the internet, a favor. Take a deep breath, know that it gets better, and reach out to somebody! You deserve help, you deserve love, and you deserve to be alive! With love, - Parker W.

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 9/10

STORY: 10/10

EXECUTION: 7/10

STYLE: 7/10

Ember Arendse by @wolfrynn313

Ember: "When I saw this week's prompt,I knew that I had to recreate a childhood photo of me at the keyboard with my Mum/Mom. I've always been creatively inclined and so have both of my parents and brothers; I thought it important to focus on the crystallization of my musical inclination and creativity, hence the feature of ice freezing in place. I realized who I was pretty early on and remain to be proud of the person that I grew into."

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 8/10

STORY: 8/10

EXECUTION: 8/10

STYLE: 8/10

Dillion Carter by @mewo-ita

Idea: Cherished memory of being with family at a rollerskating rink’s 80s night.

“Figured I should say something myself this time. My comfort place for the past decade whenever I feel overwhelmed to do anything has been this rink.

I discovered it the first three months after being adopted. I barely talked to anyone an’ just prepared to go back to the orphanage. That never stopped my new family tryin’ though and one day, we put on retro clothes and drove down to this place. It was 80s night, like it is now, and my sisters who I brought today helped me skate.

“Beat it” was playing in the background and I ‘member it being the first time I smiled in years. I was wearing a tomodachi my ma brought me and had no clue what soul or funk was, but I loved it. Did a lot for my confidence and ability to be around strangers— I don’t think I’d even consider being a model if not for that experience. I’d say it affected my fashion sense too, in a good way; makes me more open to change and bold colors.

Sure my folks will be able to find me here from now on; they didn’t know where I went off to before. S’not too bad.”

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 9/10

STORY: 10/10

EXECUTION: 9/10

STYLE: 9/10

HOLY MOLY GOOD WORK GUYS!

I just want to say, thank you for all the effort you put into every weeks prompt. Your dedication is amazing x it makes hosting this so much fun

The next prompts will be released 8pm aest 25th of June.

Thanks guys x

- Buddy

Prompt Hint:

[evolvingchaoswitch]

Behind the Mask

This is the prequel to Sensations and I am going to be working on a sequel to Sensations as well to come out eventually. Looking forward to hearing from you all.

If Terra had a shit record when it came to mental health why did you think that space might be any better? You had left to travel with the Guardians a few months ago after you managed to mediate a fight between them when they were arguing in the middle of the street drunk outside your apartment on New Years Eve. You had always been excellent at getting people to disengage during an argument, to calm down and start to think things through. It wasn’t a perfect skill but it was one you were proud of, you had honed that skill over a childhood of neglect and the shitty adolescence that followed. A byproduct of the ADHD that you lived with was the tendency to focus on the message that was actually being said with the body language, the intent of the energy around them and you found this skill worked on most sentient species.

They had found you on a rooftop a few days later during one of your city runs, you weren’t Spiderman or anything just an adrenaline junkie with suicidal tendencies; so much easier to do the fun tricks if you didn’t care if you succeeded or not. It gave you a sick sense of satisfaction when you pulled back from almost failing and becoming a beautiful pool of scarlet on the ground. Gamora had approached you to ask if you might be willing to do that social sorcery again as their other shipmate Mantis was attending to her own things right now and couldn’t keep the group agreeable with each other from a distance. You’d get to travel the stars for a while. Maybe they're some interesting medical technology that could help some of your conditions. It would be nice to get the ADHD to chill out along with its other comorbid disorders of anxiety, depression and C-PTSD, so you said “Yes' ' without much prompting.

It wasn’t going well so far it would seem that space was just as ill equipped to handle neurodivergence as Terra was, it was disappointing to realize that space wouldn’t be the answer. You didn’t tell the Guardians as you didn’t think they would understand your issues and frankly you weren’t keen on hearing again,

“Wait, you Humies/Terran’s don’t know that?”

Anytime you made a comment about Terran stuff they didn’t understand you brushed it off as them not knowing giving the polite response of “Don’t worry it’s a Terran thing” and you would explain if they wanted you to. It was nicer than acting like you should know things about space despite not being a spacer and you hoped your approach didn’t make them feel as isolated as you did in conversation some times.

It wasn’t easy being away from your coping mechanisms, long showers on a ship that needed to curb resources wouldn’t go over well and Groot was your only consistent green time. When you were journaling one time you had to keep it from Rocket and Quill neither one of them not realizing what a violation it was to you to try to read your journal in the first place, so you stopped writing in it. This left you trapped in your head with the negative intrusive thoughts not being granted any means of escape. This leads you to overanalyze everything, you know what they say “If you're happy and you know it, overthink”.

The Guardians seemed to enjoy your presence on the ship as your mediations helped cut down the amount of stupid misunderstandings they’d have. Peter liked to bond over Terran things, especially the music you had brought to the Milano and hearing how movies were evolving always brought a smile to Star Lord's face. You found that both Gamora and Drax loved to hear tales of Terran warriors so you told them a blending of myth and historical events and let's just say the story of Boudicca went over very well. Groot and you got along well since you were a decent gardener and worshiped a religion that celebrates nature.

You didn’t think Rocket liked you that much though it was hard to tell. Sometimes when you let your darker humor out you two would start to vibe and it would feel like you were making a friend then something would happen. Rocket didn’t seem to trust you all that much either, not enjoying the way you were able to use his own habits and words to get him to calm down when he was raging. It was like Rocket could tell you were masking your true personality, curating your opinions as you needed and playing the roles you needed not the ones you wanted to. So you made Rocket uneasy.

You needed to mask though as you continued your journey into space which you fully expected to end one Mantis returned after all you were not a Guardian. You were this broken thing with a brain that couldn’t focus or would fall into brain fog without warning and make you forget what you were trying to accomplish. You worked so hard burying all your naturally negative emotions down until they sunk so far that no one could see them. Pacing back and forth in your room and sobbing in whatever shower you could when no one was around; you were an expert in that skill. You felt so overwhelmed with everything like you were a shaken can of pop and you were so close to snapping at people who you didn’t want to snap at since most of them could fold you like a fucking lawn chair, so you returned to an old addiction; cutting.

You weren’t looking to kill yourself you just needed to release some of the pressure building up inside of you like releasing the air in a tire. The bite of the blade at your wrist helped to make you feel grounded into your body not disassociating like you usually did when overstimulated. You couldn’t let it get out of hand the last time you slipped into apathy hard you ended up losing two years of your life. You could remember little bits and pieces but not really.

Then Mantis came back and you started tracking how many days passed before they sent you back to Terra, they didn’t need you now that Mantis was back.

Like any good stray you knew when it was time to return to the streets and then to your utter confusion two more weeks passed since Mantis returned and they hadn’t said a word about returning you back.

Mantis also had a habit of hovering around you and the close proximity of her constantly in your aura was making it hard for you to not get snappy and it was getting harder to emotionally regulate these moments away. You also had less chances to give yourself some sweet release of cold metal to your skin much to your disappointment.

You were freaking out in your room over the events of the last mission with the Guardians and the mistake you made. While jumping a large gap without the assistance of hover boots your mask had slipped off your face which without it would have made it impossible to breath and as you slid it back on your face you nearlying missed the jump. You just narrowly missed plummeting to your death before you landed just making it and making the mistake of instinctually turning to Rocket when he called your name.

From the way he was looking at you, you could tell he had seen everything, that when your physical mask slipped off your face for a moment so did your emotional one. The true self under the metaphorical mask alight with crazed joy over the fact that you nearly didn’t make that jump. All the cracks that you hid in your personality now visible to Rockets brief glance he was seeing the type of suicidal person that didn’t actively sought their end but who wouldn’t be upset with an accident taking them out.

You paced in your room for a few minutes before pulling out your supplies, you would need to be in an even state of mind if you were going to survive whatever conversation Rocket was going to have with you. It was going to be awful as Rocket meant well but lacked tact and that didn’t always work well for people that needed gentle care; like you.

He had some many other good qualities: intelligent, loyal, sarcastic and sexy as hell. You were fairly sure Rocket helped you realize that you're a furry and you weren’t mad about it. He had surprisingly muscular arms probably from carrying all the actual big guns that he could, that long tongue that you had fantasized about regularly; side note you wondered when the last time you masturbated was, you used to do it chronically. The fangs and claws added to a dangerous feral charm that made you wet not to mention how much his voice got you. You bet his dirty talk would be amazing if you ever had the balls to ask him out.

Shaking your head back and forth you shook the thoughts out of your head as you made the first cut of the night and you were so exhilarated with the release that you failed to notice the door to your room opening.

“What the Fuck as you doing?”

Rocket looked livid.

You started to try to tumble together some sort of explanation that made sense but then your world went hazy and you woke up naked tied to a bed with Rocket Raccoon between your legs.

[harapeveco]

Ok so since it’s 2023 for me and I’m drunk as fuck so might as well be sappy when I’m out of it and regret this later tee hee

This year has been shit ngl my brother left the country, I changed majors, I was diagnosed with depression, I lost friends along the way…to say it’s been too much it’s an understatement and ig it has been like that for everyone to some extent

But I also gained some things! I got a new tablet, I started doing commissions, I made new friends and strengthen the bond I had with my current friends, I’m working on an Eve project I’m really excited about and I’m finally starting this big fic project I wanted to do so bad…it hasn’t been that bad when you look at the positive things every once in a while me thinks

Ah but ig I should be really talk about this blog and Eve and all that stuff right? It is pointless bc y’all know how much I love Eve and how much I would die for him and commit crimes and all that all that…as for this blog…it means a lot to me! Idk it’s just not to trauma dump lmao but ig the fact that people engages with what I have to say, talk to me from time to time via ask box or comments and overall have just fun with this dumb little blog makes me really happy! Mostly when I’ve been told my whole life to shut up and not talk unless I have something of relevance to say, it’s nice the little internet people who follows me are somehow having fun with my nonsense that’s why I feel I should thank y’all somehow and it doesn’t matter what I’ll do to give those thanks I’ll never think it’s gonna be enough…so all I can give for now are those illegal songs! Have you downloaded them already? Gave them a listen? You should do it fast before I delete them!

Ah I also would like to thank my discord besties all of them! The ones on tdt, the art server and the ones on my private server, the ones who dm me regularly to just talk about whatever and the ones who occasionally dm me to talk about Eve theories and such…it’s embarrassing to flat out say your feelings and show your love in a straight forward way but I love them and appreciate them so so much the fact that people who barely know me and whom I barely know can be so important to me, the fact they put up with me, appreciate me, have fun with me, I love them so so much I think I might cry thinking about it. I’ve never felt so loved like I do with these people and as much as I want to tell them how important they are to me and how much I love them I don’t think I have the courage to so I’ll hide it here, where they may find it but it will be less embarrassing. I don’t think 2023 will be the year but may we all meet soon in person and have fun together like we are meant to be

This post is gross it makes me wanna gag, feelings laid out like this are gross it’s what I’ve been told so I better shut up tee hee. May 2023 be a better year for all of us, a year of reflection and thought, a year when we finally do that thing we always wanted to do, a year that may bring new friends and new people to our lives, a year that blesses those who are important to us and a year where we are a better version of ourselves

I love y’all time to pass out 

-Miss Juju Harapeveco ❤️

[lavendertowerarchives]

It's new years eve. Having just withstood an afternoon with my intolerable family, I've returned home. No one's here except me. Cue the sob story about "always feeling alone," here comes the depression from no one talking to me, get ready for my hatred of myself and my incompetence.

It's just repetitive. All that shit happened, it's still going on, but it just doesn't change. I put me here. I created this situation for myself. I stopped trying so hard to talk to my friends because I was worried they didn't want to talk to me. Now the self-fulfilling prophecy has been fulfilled by myself, where they've probably drifted off since they sense a lack of commitment from me. Quite the opposite, I value my various friendships so much that I decide to back off. It's too risky to send a message without a "real reason." What a stupid, abstract reason to strive for. The whole reason I send a message is to talk. I just want to listen to someone, I want someone to listen to me. Maybe even hug me if I play my cards right.

I haven't changed. If you're reading this, thinkin, "This dude won't shut up about the same shit he says every other post," I know. I'm stuck here living it. My mind wont shut up about it either, that's why I try to write it out to get it out of my head.

Life's hard, and I don't have the energy to make it less so. I'm just a sad, horny, lonely little shit. Maybe I'm too self deprecating. I do know that I know what I am.

[skzhocomments]

I can read your smile - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter 18 - Christmas Eve

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Chapter 17 | Chapter 19

---

Chapter 18 - Christmas Eve

word count: 3.4k words

~Christmas Eve~

~Crystal's POV~

24th of December. If you open the TV on any channel, you would either see Home Alone, Grinch, The Nightmare Before Christmas or whatever other Christmas movie with "Miracle" in the title and with a lot of green, red or blue in its cover.

I didn't dislike these movies per-se, but they did make me feel bittersweet. Christmas was a nice holiday, but how can I enjoy it when I'm once again spending it on my own?

Instead of wasting away on the sofa, I decided to do something I haven't done in a while, which is go to the gym in the apartment complex.

I changed into sports clothes and made my way downstairs.

Damn, Minho would be proud of me.

That thought made me chuckle a bit, and I pondered on whether I should text him or not. I decided against it.

Opening the door to the reception, a nice lady with blonde hair and a perfect silhouette welcomed me.

"The apartment number, please?" She smiled, and I told her. "Oh, I see there's two memberships under the name Choi Minho. Is that right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Then you must be..."

"Crystal Kang."

"Right." She smiled sweetly. "I see Mr. Choi hasn't extended the memberships for next month yet. Would you like me to extend them for you now? Since it's Christmas time, we have a bit of a discount. Nothing much, 5% off, but you might be interested."

Huh?

Didn't Minho say that if you live in this building...

"How much are the memberships again?" I asked with a smile.

"You've been paying 200$ for the two memberships up until now, but if you renew today, you would get them both at 190$. Again, it's not much, but..."

"I see. Thank you for the information. I will talk to my friend and let you know." I smiled, then entered the gym.

He's been paying for my membership for the past 6 months or so, 100$ per month.

Almost my whole rent.

Fucking hell, Minho.

I sighed and went on the treadmill, trying to run away from my thoughts.

After my intense 30-minute running session, I made my way upstairs, took a long shower, then made something to eat.

5 PM.

Time is moving so slow when you're alone.

Maybe I should've gone to work today.

I laid down on the couch and looked around the room, at the Christmas tree. Minho's gift sat untouched underneath, and it will stay that way until after New Years' Eve, when he comes back, and I'll give it to him.

Maybe I shouldn't have put it there.

Of course, there was nothing for me under the tree, because I was all alone, and Santa wasn't real.

Turning on the TV only made me more depressed, because all the films were about happy families, happy moments, happy endings. It was getting tiring to see the same shit over and over again.

It didn't make me happy. On the contrary, actually.

Barely 5 PM.

I sighed and covered myself with the fluffy blanket I brought from my room. Despite it being warm, I felt so cold, that I covered my whole body with it and went in the fetal position, hugging the blanket around myself tightly.

Fuck.

I am feeling so lonely.

I shouldn't be crying.

It's not the first time I'm spending Christmas on my own.

But why...?

Why does this house feel so big?

I'm so sad.

Why am I so alone?

It's always been this way with me.

I am so utterly alone.

It hurts so bad.

Tears continued streaming down my face with no control, and I just sobbed and sobbed, until the crying made me too tired, and I fell into a deep slumber.

~Third person POV~

"Crystal, wake up." Minho nudged the sleeping girl awake and she opened her eyes slowly, confusion plastered over her face. He's been looking at her for a while, and frowned upon seeing her puffy eyes.

She must've been crying.

"Huh...? Minho...? I must be dreaming." She concluded, then closed her eyes again and tried to go back to sleep.

"You're not. Wake up." He nudged her again with a chuckle.

"Hm?" She opened her eyes, confused, and it finally set in that she was, in fact, awake. "What are you doing here?" She asked, almost in a whisper, raising herself from the sofa in a sitting position.

"I came to check if Santa brought me anything, of course. I see he brought you a lot of presents. You must've been good this year." Minho smiled and looked at the tree, making Crystal turn her head towards it as well.

"Huh...?" She asked, confused, noticing that there were indeed about 10 bags under the tree. "What..."

"Come, don't you want to open them?" Minho grabbed her hand and helped her stand up, dragging her towards the tree as the blanket fell from her body back on the sofa.

They went together to the tree and sat down next to it, and Crystal grabbed the bags one after another, opening them and pulling out the contents.

Some of them had clothes; there were a few sundresses, two sweaters, a bracelet and necklace jewellery set and some face creams and make-up.

"So, what do you think?" Minho's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"There's so many!" Crystal said. "Now I feel bad, I only got you this." She grabbed the bag with his gift – a sweater she really liked that she thought would look great on him – and gave it to him.

"Thanks!" He said, still excited, taking it out and examining it.

"I'm sorry, it's not much, but-"

"It's perfect. I love this colour so much. I'm gonna wear it tomorrow at the family lunch."

"Thank you." Crystal hugged him, taking him by surprise, and he hugged her back.

She was glad he was here, and she didn't spend the day completely alone, even if he would go back soon.

"You forgot to open one, though..." Minho pointed to a small gift bag that was left there, neglected.

"Oh, I must've not seen it. You got me too many." She chuckled and grabbed the small bag, opening it. Inside, there was a box swiftly wrapped in brown paper, with a red ribbon on top. "What is it?"

"Open it and check." He grinned, and she obliged, ripping the paper and seeing the box; it was a new phone, the latest model.

"Minho, what the-"

"Your phone is still broken, and you haven't gotten a new one yet, so I thought-"

"You're fucking crazy." She shook her head in disbelief. "This is really expensive. I really can't-"

"Take a shot every time Crystal says 'I can't accept it'!"

"What?!" She scoffed then burst out laughing.

"I'm serious. We'd be drunk all the time if we played this game." He mocked her a bit more, and she playfully slapped his arm.

"What am I supposed to do with this? My phone still works!" She protested and frowned.

"Yea, your phone whose screen is literally falling apart still works perfectly, as new!" He chuckled and grabbed her phone, taking off the protection foil from the screen - quite literally the only thing that was keeping the multiple broken pieces of the screen together in their rightful position. He then turned the phone upside down, and small bits of the screen fell off, and Crystal watched in horror.

"But..." she started, but she was left speechless. He won this one.

"If you don't want the phone, sell it or something. It's yours." He shrugged.

"You're crazy." She shook her head again, realising this would go nowhere, and she opened the box, taking the phone out and placing her SIM card inside.

It was as he said when they met: once he sets his mind on something, it's unlikely you'll get him to change it. And this time, even if she didn't want to admit it, he was right. She needed this phone, as hers wouldn't hold on much longer anyway, even without Minho's painful display of showing her how easily the broken bits would start falling out.

Minho watched satisfied as she turned on the phone and configured it, and when she was finally done, she asked him "Happy?", and he just nodded with a large smile on his face.

"Yes, very! Thank me again." He grinned.

"Woah!" Crystal scoffed. "Do you want a kiss on the cheek too?"

"Yes, right here!" He turned his left cheek to her and tapped on it a few times, and Crystal said fuck it, and grabbed his face and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you." She chuckled, noticing his flustered state. It was obvious he didn't actually expect her to kiss him, and he was quite cute.

"Okay, now that you opened the gifts, you have to go get changed." Minho changed the subject quickly, his fingertips still inspecting the skin her lips touched.

"Get changed?" She tilted her head. "Why?"

"My family is waiting for us. We have to hurry up, or else the chicken would get cold."

"Wait... what?"

"We're going to a Christmas dinner, silly."

"We? But... why?"

"Because I want you to come." Minho shrugged. "Now go get changed!"

"Okay..." Crystal stood up and went to her room, putting on some comfortable clothes. She wasn't sure exactly why Minho came to get her, but she started feeling excited, nonetheless. She's never been to a family dinner before.

She wondered what his family was like. Were they as nice as him? Did he have many siblings? She realised she's never asked him this before.

"Ready?" He smiled upon seeing her.

"Yes, but we have to go to the supermarket first. Is that okay?"

Minho nodded and they exited the building together, going to the supermarket in their complex. There, Crystal grabbed a small basket and filled it with Belgian chocolate.

"What is this for?" He asked, perplexed.

"Your family, of course. I can't go empty handed, and you can't go wrong with chocolate. This is my favourite."

"Is it? I've never seen you eat it though."

"That's because it's expensive, so I don't buy it on the daily basis." Crystal chuckled. "Should I get them anything else? Like... wine, or something? I don't know!"

"Don't stress it, Crys, they don't expect you to come by with anything."

"But is it really okay if I come? I mean, it's your family and I don't want to intrude-"

"They are quite excited for you to come, actually. Especially my brother's wife. She said family dinners always feel lonely because there's no one her age to talk to." He laughed.

"I see..." Crystal looked down in the basket, and then at the shelf. She picked one more box of chocolates, just for good measure, and they went to the checkout to pay.

Minho pulled out his wallet quickly, but Crystal already started intercepting his thoughts, and she was quicker. It was her gift for his family. She put her hand over his wallet and handed the cashier her card with a smile, and Minho grabbed the hem of her sleeve and dragged it with a pout.

"Let me pay-"

"Don't even start. I wanna rip your ear off about the gym membership anyway." She looked at him with squinted eyes, and he avoided her cold gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Let's go!"

~

Minho's family house was a fairly large white picket fence house, just as the ones she's seen in Taemin's grandparents' villa town. All sorts of Christmas decorations made it literally sparkle in all the colours of the rainbow, and there was a big Christmas Tree on the front porch.

"You both made it! You must be Crystal!" A middle-aged woman with dark hair smiled brightly upon seeing them come in, and came and hugged Crystal tightly. "I'm Minho's mother"

"Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Choi." She spoke and smiled, letting the woman look her up and down. "This is for you. I'm sorry, I would've brought something more if I knew-"

"It's okay, love, we are just happy you're joining us." She grabbed the gift bag with chocolates and rubbed Crystal's arm lovingly. "Now, let's go to the dining room! Everyone was waiting for you two."

They both took their shoes off and Minho smiled at her assuringly, guiding her towards the dining. It was a spacious room with a big dinner table that had all sorts of foods on it, and it was full of family members of all ages, from kids to older people with white hair.

Minho introduced Crystal to everyone and helped her sit down, and then everyone started talking to her and placing all sorts of foods on her plate, wanting her to feel at home and eat as much as possible. Minho couldn't help but chuckle slightly at her flustered state, and he grabbed her hand under the table soothingly, letting her know that she can relax, and that everything is okay.

She talked a lot to his brother's wife and his aunts, and ate so much food, she was sure she would explode.

Still, Crystal never felt so happy.

So this is what a family dinner looks like. She thought, glancing around the table with a smile on her face, trying to hold back her tears.

~

"So, Crystal, I heard from my nephew you're also studying business." Minho's uncle smiled at her, and she nodded. The chatter around the table quieted down, as the children went to sleep and some of the adults were cleaning around the kitchen. She tried to help too, but Minho's mother refused vehemently, and urged her to sit down at the dinner table and just relax and be a guest.

They've been talking about business-related things for more than an hour now, but Crystal just listened closely and hasn't joined in the conversation, not wanting to interrupt. She was always more of a listener, and in the span of an hour she found out that Minho's family owned a large business called Choi Enterprises that his grandfather founded, his uncle being the actual CEO. His father was not working in the company; he was a famous football coach, which explained Minho's passion for football, and Minho was studying business because, despite his interest for football, he and his brother were supposed to take after the business in a few years when his uncle would retire.

After Minho's older brother and wife left the table, only him, Crystal and Mr. Choi, Minho's uncle, remained in the dimly lit room. He seemed like a stern man, but his eyes held warmth towards his family.

"Yes, that's right. I've just started the 3rd year." Crystal replied with a sweet smile.

"You have a long way to go." He smiled. "Business is tricky."

"Indeed." She affirmed and nodded.

"Let me ask you something. It's a riddle. If you have three, you have three. If you have two, you have two. But if you have one, you have none. What is it?" He asked, amused, and Minho shot her a curious glance as well.

Crystal pondered on the answer for a bit, rubbing her chin with her fingers.

"Choices." She replied after a few seconds, much to Mr. Choi's delight.

"You're clever." He grinned. "Okay... one more question. One of my employees made a harsh mistake that cost us a lot of money. Let's say, someone's salary for a whole year. Should I fire him?"

"That's more of a management question, isn't it?" Crystal smiled.

"Good management is part of any successful business."

"That's correct."

"So?"

"Of course, this is dependent on more factors, including their performance up until that point and what kind of mistake they've made, but personally I wouldn't fire that employee."

"Why not?" He raised a brow questioningly.

"Because they will never make that mistake again. Someone new might."

"I see... that's an interesting take." Mr. Choi smirked.

"Did you fire them?" Crystal asked, curiosity lacing her tone.

"No. I had the same thoughts as you, and indeed, he hasn't made any mistakes since. He's proven to be a valuable employee."

"That's great. I'm glad it worked out in the end."

"Crystal, dear, what's your biggest weakness?"

"Oh, I'm definitely a perfectionist who doesn't know when to stop." She chuckled.

"Minho, you picked a good one." Mr. Choi stood up from his chair and looked at Crystal. "Apply for a summer internship at our company as an assistant manager. You might just be the right fit." He winked, and with that, he retreated to his room.

Crystal looked at Minho, who looked back at her shocked. He knew she was smart, he just didn't expect her to impress his uncle enough for him to offer her a job.

"So... we should go to sleep too. I'll take you back home tomorrow." Minho stood up and offered her his hand in support. "Sorry, but the whole house's full, so we'd have to sleep in my room... I can sleep on the floor if you're uncomfortable."

"Don't be silly." She chuckled. "We slept many times next to each other."

They went to his bedroom and Minho gave Crystal some clothes to change into. They were a bit too large for her, but they were his, and they smelled just like him, and her heart started beating faster.

She sat down on the bed and waited for him to come back, her heart ringing in her ears. She felt emotional, but most importantly, she felt happy, and he was the main reason for it.

"Thank you so much for today." She smiled as he sat down in front of her. "I've never... had a family dinner like this before. Your family is very sweet, and I had a great time."

"I'm glad you came." He returned her smile.

"Why did you come and get me?"

"Just... you being home on your own on Christmas Eve didn't sit right with me..." He briefly looked away, and she felt her eyes swell up with tears. Why the fuck was he always so thoughtful?

"Thank you. For everything." She leaned in and hugged him, and his arms surrounded her body, dragging her closer, until she ended up in his lap.

They stayed like that for a little while, their hearts beating in unison, and then Minho moved his head a bit away, looking at Crystal.

How beautiful she was like that, in his clothes, with her big dark eyes looking directly into his.

He would be stupid if he let her go again, so he cupped her cheek with his left hand and glanced at her beautiful lips.

The air was stuffy and hot, and he wanted nothing more but to kiss her. He wanted to give in and feel her lips against his, to tell her how beautiful she was, and that he's been in love with her for months now, that he rejected her because he was stupid, and that he's regretted it ever since. He wanted to tell her that she's been occupying his mind all the time, that ever since he left he's been wondering if she ate enough, if she was sleeping well, if work's been difficult.

She wanted to tell him how confused she was once again, because she thought he brought her over as a friend, but now she was in his lap, which must've been the most comfortable place on Earth, and her feelings were all over the place once again, because she's been trying to get rid of her feelings, but they would just come back stronger each time he would do something thoughtful for her.

Instead, they just looked in each other's eyes and tried to understand the other between their unspoken words.

They've both been waiting for the other to say something, and just when Minho gathered enough courage to close the distance between them, a knock on the door pulled them out of their trance, and the moment was gone as quickly as it came.

His mother wanted to check if they had enough pillows and blankets, if Crystal was comfortable, and if there was anything else she could do for them before they went to sleep.

~

The next morning, Crystal had breakfast with Minho's family, and they all opened presents together and ate the chocolates she brought.

Minho then took her home at her request, as she didn't want to intrude any more than she already had and she would have to get back to work soon anyway, and they both pondered on talking about last night, but still, it just didn't feel right for some reason, so neither said anything.

They hugged goodbye in the car and smiled at each other, and Minho told her he's going to come home after New Year's Eve, because training would resume on January 3rd, since the game itself would be on January 15th.

He was going to have a busy time.

---

Chapter 17 | Chapter 19

[little-kitty-kanny]

No one needs to pay attention to this. I just needed to get this all out.

So my grandmother (paternal) had dinner at her house today at 3. I was not informed of this until my sister sent me a snap asking if I was going. She sent me this snap like two hours before 3, and I was like, "Um...this is super last minute, and wtf do you mean she's hosting dinner at her house today?" My sister tried to soothe the voices in my head by saying that it was probably a series of miscommunication.

For the first time ever, I didn't go to the New Years Eve party at my aunt's (maternal) house. I figured that my grandmother had assumed I had gone, and that my parents had told me about it. So, I calmed down a little, but I did end up not going due to the fact I didn't even know about it until the last minute.

I need to add context for this next part, so quick deviation. I have been engaged to a wonderful human being for three years now. This wonderful human being also happens to be a transwoman who I dated before her transition, so my parents know her as both her dead name and herself. My partner just brought up that she'd really like us to be married by the end of the year, but that all depends on $$$ and how fast we can throw shit together.

I recently told my grandmother that my partner was going by a new name and the pronouns she/her. I told her that while I didn't expect her to accept it, I wanted her to respect that this is who I love and that my fiance was to be treated with respect. My grandmother's response had been rather...neutral, so I wasn't immediately panicked by it.

Well, I guess I should have taken the neutral response as a negative. My sister texted me telling me they were talking about my fiance, and that my grandmother's house wasn't a safe place.

My sister then apologized to me.

Like she was the problem.

I just...I feel so fucking much right now.

I'm disappointed but unsurprised at the transphobia.

I'm gutted by the fact they can't accept my relationship, and that their so called "unconditional love" has so many fucking conditions.

I'm so full of rage that they can talk shit when I'm not around, but they don't have the guts to say it to my damn face.

I'm scared because my youngest sibling has come out to me as non-binary, and if they can't accept my trans partner, what does that mean for my sibling?

I'm...I'm grieving. I'm grieving that all the things that I dreamed of aren't going to happen. My father isn't going to walk me down the aisle. My mother may not show up to my wedding due to my father. Neither of my grandparents will be there. Maybe one aunt will be there, maybe not because it might cause too much strain in the family.

I won't have a father-daughter dance. I probably won't dance with my mother. My extended family won't want anything to do with me, and my "sinfulness". I won't have holidays with them anymore. I probably will stop seeing them until I'm putting them in the Goddamn ground because I will NEVER leave my siblings to do that by themselves.

I will never have their love and support.

Even after I gave them FUCKING EVERYTHING I HAD.

Even after I took care of their kids more often then they did.

Even after I, as a fucking child, handled and dealt with their emotions.

Even after I held things together.

Even after I tried my damnedest to be PERFECT because I thought that was the only way they were EVER going to love me.

Even after I shoved my emotions down, never letting them see me depressed because I didn't want to be a burden.

I will never be good enough.

I will NEVER be good enough for them.

And I'm so angry and sad about that.

I guess it isn't all terrible though. My sister offered to walk me down the aisle in place of my father. She's also asked about how she can help with the wedding plans. She's also reaching out to some of our cousins (I'm older than them, but they're also adults now) to see if they'd want to come. She was just as upset about this as I was because she loves me and wants me to be happy without needing to conform to her ideas of who I should be.

My little sibling was thankfully taking a nap in the guest room when they (my dad and his parents) decided to talk shit, so they didn't hear anything negative. At least they were spared that discomfort. I'm still worried how this will impact them in the future though.

I am going to be calling their role in my wedding the Wedding Gremlin though. That I'm positive of.

I'll always have them and my wonderful fiancé (who I hope will soon be my wife).

[takingofthemask]

Day +13 12-31-2022

I really don't know

I dont know how to feel

Neither what's going on

New years eve

At my parents place

With parents friends

They're listening to 80's music

I wanted to put on a song

My dad told me not to put some shit music

I know he means kpop

I never played it in front of them

Y would I

And then I make a remark because I am a salty bitch

They said smth about their music and I said smth with shit music just ironically to pay them back

My mom got it and told me not to take everything that serious

I literally told her at Christmas that I feel overheard when she asked me why I didn't talk on Christmas eve

I literally was so said for myself that day because I recognized how I am just quiet at occasions like this

And I recognized that it was because my parents never valid my opinions and emotions

And there we go again

They say that the one thing in my life that literally kept me from fucking killing my fucking self 13 days ago is shit music

If they would know...

They are now talking about music they like

While I write in a fucking blog that I would like to fucking die

And look at post where people are literally bleeding out by self harm

And the only reaction is missing it

Missing the feeling of dragging the fucking blade across my skin

The way they talk about how people they know are deep down depressed

I WAS FUCKING READY TO KILL MYSELF 13 DAYS AGO

IT WAS MY PLAN

And right now I'm regetting not to have done it

Because I am fucking weak

The worst fucking thing is that I cannot find a reason why I did not do it

[wonderlandleighleigh]

i know we see this a bit already in fashionable people, but what if midge had more of an adverse reaction to her meds (depressive thoughts..etc)?

(This turned into a whole thing. Just so you know. Takes place after What Are You Doing (New Year’s Eve), probably around early February)

When she carefully gets into the car, Noah realizes that his sister looks almost the same as she did before her accident. A little tired, certainly a little thinner than she was (if that’s possible), and her arm is still in the sling, but her outfit is pretty, and her hair and make-up are impeccable. 

“Hey, Sis, you look nice today.” 

She smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks for taking me, Noah.” 

He’d agreed to take her to her doctor’s appointment when it turned out everyone else was too busy. She could have taken the subway and gone by herself, but Noah didn’t like the sound of that, since she’s still recovering. It’s only been three months, after all, and her recovery has been rocky. 

What was good progress before has started to stagnate, and the doctors keep switching out her pain medications; looking for something that helps without knocking her on her ass, and in the meantime, Ma told Noah it’s been playing merry hell on Midge’s mental health. 

“It’s no problem,” he tells her gently. “I was thinking we could grab a bite to eat after.” 

She really does smile now. “That sounds good.” 

The drive is…quiet. Which Noah is not used to. His mile-a-minute, chatterbox kid sister usually talks his ear off. Normally she’d be telling him about her latest gig, or something she’d seen on TV, or something dumb her boyfriend(? Is Lenny her boyfriend now?) said, but today, right now, she just watches the city pass them by out the window. 

And he lets her have the quiet, because maybe she needs it. He guesses that Ma and Pop talk in her ear all the time, and that Susie and Joel come by and yack at her too, and Lenny seems like the hovering sort from what Noah’s heard. So he turns on the radio and lets Ray Charles play them the rest of the way to the doctor’s.

When they get there, Noah figures he’ll just hang out in the waiting room and wait til she’s done, but he’s asked to come in with her and it’s weird and awkward. The idea that Midge can’t manage her own health and her own doctor’s appointment is so strange, and she doesn’t look happy about it, but she doesn’t argue either. 

Behind a screen, she carefully gets changed into a hospital gown, and Noah has never seen her look so damn small. 

The doctor does the exam, and Noah gets glimpses of the bruising and scarring from the accident and subsequent surgery, and it’s…horrible. 

It’s horrible. 

And Noah wonders if maybe it’s not just the medication that’s playing merry hell with his sister’s state of mind. 

After the examination, she gets dressed again, back to her perfect self, and they both sit in the doctor’s office, watching as he writes some things down before he looks up at them. 

“Obviously your progress has slowed a little,” he says. “And that happens sometimes. How do you feel about some stronger pain medication?” 

“Again?” Midge asks, sounding a little defeated. 

“It would be temporary,” the doctor assures her. “Just something to get you through the harder days. Possibly dilaudid in small dose-” 

“No,” Midge snaps. 

Noah blinks, turning to her. “Sis-” 

“I’m not taking dilaudid,” she tells them firmly. “I can’t take dilaudid.” 

“Miss Weissman-” 

“I won’t.” 

Oh, shit, Noah realizes. 

Lenny. 

Their mother had mentioned a morphine habit that was in the process of being curbed. Ma had said not to worry, but she says that constantly. 

“Something less harsh, maybe,” Noah offers. “After all, Midge is like two feet tall. Even a small dose of that stuff would knock her over.” 

Midge gives him a grateful look for the support. It is truly twisted that she even needs a man to advocate for her health this way, but he’s happy that he can make sure that she gets what she needs out of this, and the doctor seems to move onto different, less stressful options.

They come out of the appointment with a new prescription, and a lot more silence. 

“So, hey, what about some lunch, huh?” Noah offers as they walk slowly towards the car. “Maybe some Chinese food.” 

“Fine,” she says softly. “Thank you,” she says abruptly. “For taking my side in there.” 

“I’m always on your side, Midge,” Noah assures her. “It’s your life, and your health and your body.” 

“It doesn’t feel like it,” she sighs. “It feels like someone else’s.” 

“I know it’s hard to get used to everything that’s happened-” 

“I will never get used to it,” Midge snaps. “I will never get used to feeling like a fucking monster, Noah.” 

“Midge…” 

“No, I know what I look like under all the pretty clothes, and make-up and hair,” she goes on. “I know. I know how horrible all of this is. I can barely look at myself in the mirror. I don’t even want Lenny to touch me, I’m so mangled.” 

It’s not often that Noah wants to fucking cry, but he certainly does now, listening to his sister have a minor breakdown in the parking lot of the doctor’s office. 

They stand in silence for a long moment, until Noah offers her his hand, and she hesitates for a long moment before she takes it. 

“Whatever you look like,” he says quietly. “You’re still my sister. And I still love you.” 

She lets him hug her for a silent moment, and then he  helps her into the car, and buys her lunch.

***** 

“Maybe you should talk to Lenny,” Astrid suggests a week later when Noah is still thinking about that day with his sister.

Their home is a quiet one. When Astrid isn’t trying so hard to impress his family, she’s a pretty calm person, keeping their home and raising their son during the day, chatting with him as they read at night.

Astrid is great. 

“You think that might help?” Noah asks as they eat dinner that night. Astrid’s gefilte fish is terrible, but she bakes a salmon like nobody’s business. 

She shrugs as she reaches over to feed Chaim some mushy peas. “It can’t hurt, right? And he’s a performer, he shouldn’t be hard to track down.” 

“I just don’t want Midge to be pissed at me,” Noah admits. “She’s got enough going on.” 

“Noah, it’s pretty obvious that you can’t stop thinking about the things she said,” Astrid points out. “I know you. You won’t be able to let it go until you do something about it.” 

He sighs and nods. “Okay. Well. I guess I’ll look in the papers and see where he’s playing.” 

“Oh! If you’re going into the city can you bring home some bagels? I really hate the ones out here.” 

“You got it,” Noah grins.

*****

Astrid is right (as she so often is), and it’s easy to figure out where Lenny Bruce will be on Friday night. 

Upstairs at the Downstairs is packed for his show, and Noah hopes like hell the guy doesn’t get arrested tonight. Obviously for the Lenny’s own sake, but also if he gets arrested, Noah can’t talk to the guy. 

He guesses he could bail him out (or flash his badge and demand Lenny be released), but that all sounds messier than he signed up for tonight.

Noah is in luck, though. Lenny’s set is great, and the cops don’t show up, and Noah swigs down his drink before approaching him at the bar, tapping him on the shoulder. 

Lenny’s a handsome guy. Seriously, Noah gets it. The dark hair and the piercing look-right-into-your-soul eyes, and that jawline. Woof. If he were single and a little gayer, he might be into it. Lenny, for his part, looks primed to sign an autograph, but Noah just grins politely. 

“Hi. Great set.” 

“Thank you,” Lenny nods. 

Noah sticks out his hand. “Noah Weissman. Midge’s older brother.” 

A light goes on in the other man’s eyes and he gets to his feet. “Shit. Hi. Yeah. Nice to meet you.” He shakes his hand and Noah notes that this man, like Joel, can probably kick his ass. 

And Lenny, unlike Joel, likely knows where to hide the bodies.

Shit.

“Have a seat,” Lenny offers, gesturing to the empty bar stool next to his, and they sit down. “Can I getcha anything?” 

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Noah tells him. 

Lenny orders them both a whiskey and water, and they sit quietly for a moment, before Noah turns to him. 

“So…I uh…I took Midge to her doctor’s appointment the other day.”

Lenny nods, looking concerned. “How’d it go?” 

“It…went,” Noah admits. 

“Something new come up?” Lenny asks, obviously a little worried now.

“No, nothing new, per se,” Noah tells him. “She’s just not healing as fast as the doctors want her to. They keep flipping around her medications, and that on top of everything else that’s come with that accident has really got Midge down.” 

Lenny nods slowly, averting his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. 

“She mentioned you,” Noah says. “During her brief freakout in the parking lot. Look, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you about this, but I’m really worried, and I haven’t been able to stop worrying and I thought maybe…I don’t know.” 

“What’d she say?” Lenny asks, narrowing his eyes. 

“That the scars make her feel like a monster and that she doesn’t want to let you touch her, because she’s really fucking ashamed,” Noah blurts out. 

Lenny blows out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Believe me, I’ve noticed. She’s barely let me near her since New Years.” 

“Jesus,” Noah mutters. 

“I keep insisting I don’t care,” Lenny explains. “Because I really don’t. Seriously. Surgery scars, bruising, broken arm, I don’t give a shit. I just want to be with her, and all she seems to see when she looks at herself is that she’ll never be the way she used to be.”

“And the way they’ve been fucking with her medication is making things so much worse,” Noah sighs. “They uh…they wanted to put her on a low dose of dilaudid. She refused.”  

Lenny swallows and averts his eyes again. “That’s on me.” 

“She’s really protective of you,” Noah points out. 

“Which is insane!” Lenny cries, turning to him again. “She’s the one who nearly died! I’m fine. I’m perfectly fucking fine and she just-”

“Is Midge,” Noah finishes calmly. “She’s Midge. Whatever else has changed about her, this is how she’s always operated. She’ll protect the people she cares about to the death. She doesn’t care what it costs her.” 

“If the doctors say she should take the dilaudid-” 

“She won’t,” Noah shrugs. “Never. You know that. The best thing we can do for her is support her decisions.” 

Lenny nods and takes another sip of his drink. “I know you’re right. I don’t like that you’re right, but you’re right.” 

“I just don’t know how to get her feeling better about herself,” Noah laments. “More like herself.” 

Lenny finishes his drink, looking thoughtful. “I’ll take it from here, Noah.” 

“You sure?” Noah asks. 

The other man nods. “Yeah. I got it.” 

“Okay, then,” Noah says. “If you’re sure. I can still help.” 

“Nah,” Lenny insists. “She’s not gonna be happy about you coming to me at all, and if we gang up on her she’s just gonna shut down.” 

“If there’s anything I can do..” 

“Yeah,” Lenny promises. “Yeah.” 

***** 

“Meet me at the Carlyle,” Lenny says. “Dress nice, and bring a bag.” 

Midge takes a breath and grips the phone. “Lenny…” 

“Please,” he pleads. “Please Midge.” 

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” she tells him. 

He goes silent for a moment before speaking again. “Your brother came to see me, and he’s worried about you.” 

“Dammit, Noah,” Midge mutters. “Lenny, I’m fine, I swear.” 

“Didn’t sound like it,” Lenny tells her. “Look, just…humor me. Let me try to make you feel better. Please. A nice dinner, and a relaxing hotel room for a night. I’ll sleep on the floor. Or the bathtub and you can wake me up in the morning by turning the shower on.” 

She has to laugh a little. “Lenny…” 

“Please.” 

She pauses for a moment and purses her lips. “O-okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes,” Lenny repeats. “Okay. The Carlyle, tomorrow night. Seven-thirty.” 

“Seven-thirty,” Midge agrees. 

***** 

She shows up wearing one of her nicest dresses. It’s deep blue and it dips down a little low, showing off part of the surgical scar that runs down her chest, but she covers it with a nice necklace, drawing attention to something sparkly and not what’s underneath. 

She only brings one suitcase, packed with a nightgown and her night routine supplies, and an outfit for the next day. 

Midge still isn’t thrilled with Noah for blabbing to Lenny, but if went through the trouble of tracking down a man he’s never met before, he must be really worried. 

“Miss, can I help you?” the concierge asks politely. 

“Oh, I’m meeting someone,” she responds. “And he’s late, which is not a shock.” 

“I resemble that remark,” Lenny’s voice tells her from behind.

She turns, not whirling around too quickly and smiles at him. “Hi.” 

“Hello,” he responds, taking her in, giving a low whistle. 

“You said dress nice,” Midge reminds him. 

“Yes, I did, and you delivered,” he tells her. “You look stunning.” 

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow at him. 

“Not at all,” the concierge interjects. “You do look very nice, Miss.” 

“Thank you,” Midge nods to the other man, feeling herself flush a little. “How much did he pay you to say that?” 

“Not one cent,” the man beams kindly. 

“See? I’m not such a louse,” Lenny reminds her before turning to the concierge. “Do you mind if we stow our luggage with you until we’ve finished dinner?” 

“Not at all.” 

They hand over their suitcases. Midge had to get a new one after Joel stole hers, and she’d deemed the luggage she used on the Shy Baldwin tour cursed. The new one is a pale pink and very tasteful. Lenny’s is black and plain, but nice-looking, and Midge can’t help thinking that the two together look good. 

Lenny offers her an arm, which she hesitates to take, but finally relents after he doesn’t stop offering it, and they step into the bar - Bemelman’s - and get a table under Lenny’s reservation. 

“This is nice,” Midge says, looking around. 

“I thought so too,” he grins. “Order whatever you like.” 

“There is a fifteen thousand dollar bottle of champagne on this menu,” Midge points out.

“Maybe not whatever,” Lenny amends. 

Midge grins at him and shakes her head, sitting back, adjusting the sling on her arm a little. “So. Noah came to see you.” 

Lenny nods. “Yes, he did. He had taken you to see the doctor, and he was…let’s say unnerved by the experience.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m always unnerved by the experience,” Midge admits. “So he can join the club.”  

“He told me what you said,” he tells her gently, leaning in and gazing at her. 

Midge looks down at her menu. “They have a mixed seasonal salad that looks good, and it comes with a pasta gratin.” 

“I think maybe I’ve been approaching this all wrong,” Lenny pushes forward, ignoring her change of subject. “And I’m sorry, Midge, I shoulda thought harder about it. I ran my mouth and I think I hurt you.” 

She looks up quickly. “That’s not true, you didn’t hurt me.” 

“No, I think I did,” he insists. “Because I said I don’t care about the scars and the bruises and whatever else scares the shit out of you when you look in the mirror, and that’s not- that’s not how I feel..” 

“Do we have to do this now?” Midge whispers. 

“Yes,” Lenny tells her, taking her hand gently. “Yes, we do. I don’t wanna wait on this, because I think you need to hear it.” 

She takes a breath and pulls her hand away from his. “Then how do you feel?” she asks, and she doesn’t know if he can tell that she’s bracing herself, but she’s fucking bracing herself because she knows what she thinks of the way she looks down, and she is, deep down, terrified of what other people think. It’s bad enough having her brother see as much as he did, and her father seeing in previous doctor’s appointments when he accompanied her. There had even been one unspeakably horrible appointment Joel had taken her to. He hadn’t said anything but the look on his face had been enough.They had each looked horrified by the state of her.

Her mother had seen, as well, when helping her change clothes when she was too weak to herself. The woman had been completely silent, but Midge knew; could feel the shame. 

Susie had seen once, and asked if she wasn’t just a reanimated corpse. That was fun.

“Grateful,” he says simply. 

Midge stares at him in shock. “I’m sorry - grateful?” 

Lenny nods. “Yep.” He looks into her eyes. “I am grateful. For every last one of those fucking scars. Because they mean you’re still here, and we didn’t have to bury you.” 

She freezes completely at that, still staring at him, trying to process those words; that perspective. 

“They’re proof that you won,” he tells her. “You fought fucking hard to live through this, and you won. Whatever happens next, that’s always gonna be true, Midge. There’s no shame in the way you look now. You should feel fuckin�� proud.” 

The waiter steps over then, and Midge can’t find her voice, still reeling from his words, so he gently orders for them, getting her the pasta gratin and salad she mentioned, while he gets the steak frites and gets them each their usual drinks. His whiskey and her martini up with olives. 

Midge drinks her drink slowly, monitoring herself as she’s still on medication and can’t have too much, and she eats her entire meal, quietly offering Lenny some of the gratin as he places a few frites on her plate for her to enjoy. They don’t really talk as she processes his words silently. 

The shame that she had felt over the way she looks had completely overshadowed the fact that her body had fought a battle for survival and won; that the way she looks now is a testament to that victory. They’re battle scars. 

And they’re hers. 

When they’ve both finished eating, Lenny pays the check and they collect their suitcases from the front desk, as well as their room keys, before letting the elevator operator take them up to their floor. 

“I didn’t get anything too fancy,” Lenny admits as he opens the hotel room door. “But I don’t think I did too bad.” 

They both peek in, the way they had in Miami, gazing at a small, but beautiful room, with a view of the city, and a big, ornate bed. 

Midge steps inside first, setting her suitcase down and watching as Lenny follows her in. She carefully reaches back with one hand and unclasps her necklace, carefully setting it down on the bedside table before turning back to him, lifting her chin, knowing the top of the scar is visible. 

He sets his own suitcase down and slowly moves to stand in front of her, completely silent as he leans down and places a gentle kiss right on her scar, his hands holding her lower back to keep her where she is. 

She squeezes her eyes shut and rests her unbroken hand on the back of his neck, and she feels tears start to slip down her face as she rests her head against his. 

Lenny’s lips trail upwards to her neck until he reaches her lips and the kiss is slow. He brushes his nose against hers, his thumbs rubbing against her back. “Survival looks so fucking good on you, Midge.” 

She pulls him into another kiss, deeper, and a little desperate, but also grateful.

[loving-villanelle]

I'm still in so much pain over the finale. I was never the kind of person to get too invested in TV shows, and boy, did I choose the wrong show to be emotionally invested in for the first time.

I'm beyond shattered and struggling to get through my days. Constantly trying to get myself to understand that grief and loss are a part of life and if nothing else, that ending only solidifies this. I can only imagine how many other people are suffering like this. And the worst part is that I feel guilty for feeling this way. Cuz rationally I know it's just a TV show, and ffs I have bigger problems to deal with. But somehow, this still takes precedence in making me feel like actual shit.

I've suffered from depression for a long time now but was finally starting to get to a better place, mentally. Until the stupid finale came along and threw my right in the thick of it again.

The kiss scene took me to a whole new level of elation. But everything that followed after simply reminds of this heartbreaking quote: "Happiness like this is frightening. Because they only let you be this happy if they're preparing to take something away from you." (Khaled Hosseini)

And that right there is the gist of Villanelle and Eve's relationship in 4x08.

I'll be honest, that quote you put at the end there has me full on sobbing right now. My heart just absolutely breaks for everyone affected by this. I'm older than some of the fandom, I've been through this before and I am STILL struggling so bad. Barely sleeping, finally eating but out of necessity more than anything, breaking into tears constantly, having trouble focusing, not wanting to do anything because nothing holds any appeal to me rn. Like this shit is not okay. A TV show should not make people feel this way. And I'm not saying that in a "it's just a TV show" kind of a way. I'm saying that in a "these people are trusted with these stories and have a responsibility to not traumatize their audience" kind of way. We all know that KE has been problematic over the years. Their inability to just make Villaneve canon when the story was screaming for it made that all but obvious. But they always gave us just enough that we justified it as a "slow burn" and convinced ourselves that the pay off would be worth it. And god was it worth it. Because those 38 minutes of screen time were the best I have ever watched. Truly. I cannot FATHOM how KE could make an episode that was literally PERFECT and then just absolutely demolish the entire thing, along with the entire series, in the span of 3 minutes. There isn't a single part of this that hasn't been gut wrenching all around, because the loss is immeasurable.

We lost Villanelle. We lost Villaneve. We lost any hope of a happy ending that an ambiguous conclusion would have left us with. We lost our belief that shows like this can be trusted to be safe and not go out of their way to harm and traumatize their core audience. We lost our comfort show, as many of can't fathom ever watching again knowing where it will all lead. We lost the promise of happiness and freedom that 4x08 offered until those last 3 devastating minutes. I just don't think any of us could've ever fathomed this happening. We thought we were prepared, but never in a million years could I have imagined something like this. So while we are mourning Villanelle and rightfully so, we are also mourning the years we invested in this show only for them to tell us that we don't fucking matter. We are mourning the hopes we shared over the years dreaming of a love realized. We are mourning the fact that we still live in a world that thinks storytelling like this is acceptable. An unknown number of executives, producers, writers, and network heads really all looked at this and signed off on it. Not a single one of them had the perspective to see the effect this would have the queer audience that makes up the majority of their fanbase. Not only that, they failed to see how it's a disgusting ending period, as they have been receiving universal criticism about the vile and heartless way they chose to end things. And as though all of this wasn't enough, we then had to read interview after interview where we were being gaslit into thinking that Villaneve were never romantic, just "frenemies". Eve doesn't have darkness inside of her, she was just going through a phase and can now be free that her queer lover is dead. Villanelle didn't have any humanity, she was just a psychopath that got what's coming to her. They so fundamentally destroyed this show and these characters that I don't even recognize KE anymore. I don't know how to tell you what it's about, because I don't know. I don't know what the point of it all was. There wasn't one. We ended up right back where we started and were told that nothing that happened in between mattered. Why would anyone want to watch a show like that?

I'm going to save everyone the heartache and just tell you...never watch Killing Eve. I hate to say that because Sandra Oh and Jodie Comer are so phenomenally gifted and everyone should have the opportunity to witness the magic they bring to the screen. But this isn't a journey you should invest in, because these writers made sure that that journey went absolutely nowhere. There was no payoff, no victory or triumph, no moral of the story, other than know your place and conform to society or else. This show is toxic and no one should expose themselves to that

[sehunniepotwrites]

when the ball drops, our hearts stop | mk.l

gif created by @nctsworld​ 

SYNOPSIS ☆ In which being dragged and ditched at a New Year’s Eve gala with your so-called enemy doesn’t end as badly as you thought it would. 

GENRE ☆ enemies-to-lovers!au, fluff, suggestive PAIRING ☆ mark lee x (f) reader WORD COUNT ☆ 2666 WARNINGS ☆ suggestive content ahead!! dirty dancing, neck kisses, alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, cursing

PLAYLIST ☆ new year’s day - taylor swift

“What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?” had to be the number one question that was sent your way and unlike last year, you didn’t have an answer. Finding your lack of plans to celebrate the upcoming year with a bang, your best friend Wendy decided to drag you to the great outdoors. 

And by the great outdoors, she meant the biggest New Year’s Gala in the city. So there you were, in the grandest hotel in the heart of the city, downed in a glittery silver power suit that hugged your body in just the right way. A matching belt wrapped around to cinch your waist and the low cut of your blazer and lack of undershirt only accentuated the curves you usually preferred hiding. Hair curled up and face painted with the most flattering colors for your skin tone, you were rocking and ready to go.

The gala was packed with people your age and older with a mix of top forty music blaring from the loudspeakers. Everyone was dressed to the nines, wearing suits and dresses that went with the gold and silver theme. Bodies were pressed against each other on the dance floor and you were sure Wendy and her boyfriend Johnny were in that crowd as well. They were always the type to be caught up in all the fun— you, not so much, not since your breakup with your ex that occurred five months ago anyway.

You wanted to stray away from the party scene since it was your ex’s scene as well but fuck it, it was New Year’s Eve and you deserved to have fun. Your definition of fun included an obscene amount of alcohol, courtesy of Son Wendy and the credit card she slipped into the palm of your hand before making her way to the dance floor.

Of course, you promised that you would chat and get to know some people, maybe find someone to share a New Year’s kiss with but it was all a lie. You just wanted your free drinks and the loneliness haunting your mind to fade away.

Three Long Island Iced Teas and a bit way past tipsy into your night, a person pushed their way next to you at the bar, their body pressing against your side as they ordered a drink. You couldn’t see them, your hair creating a curtain and blocking them from view but you felt their eyes on you. It wasn’t until you leaned forward and took another sip of your drink that the person talked to you, immediately recognizing your face.

They called your name a bit cockily and you flinched at the sound, sober enough to pinpoint the exact person next to you but drunk enough to engage in a conversation with him. Swiveling your barstool to face him, you shot him a curt smile, lifting your drink up from the bar in greeting. “Mark,” you nodded as you drank him in. 

“Yo.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Mark Lee was handsome. His hair had been dyed a shade of blond and was styled in a way that made your heart unwillingly skip a beat. His grey velvet suit clung onto his body oh-so-well and the black tie that contrasted against the bright white of his shirt looked almost too tempting, the drunken state of your mind was urging you to pull it so he could step closer to you.

What did people say? Drunken thoughts, sober words? Yeah, fuck that.

“Johnny invited you?” you questioned as you sucked on the straw of your drink. You watched as his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips for a fraction of a second, his lips curving into the smirk you wanted to punch off his face. Or kiss. 

“Yeah, should’ve figured I would see you when John invited me. You and Wendy are like a packaged deal, you know?” he replied as the bartender dropped off his drink. This time, your gaze was glued to his mouth as he took a swig of his drink, eyes slightly widening as his tongue peeked out before he downed the liquid courage. 

Coughing out of embarrassment, you looked away before Mark could catch you eyeing his seemingly delectable mouth. 

“You look like the mirrorball that’s about to drop,” he commented on your fit of the night. Glancing down at your suit, you frowned. It didn’t look that bad, did it?

When you shifted in your seat yet again, it sent your head spinning for a second, leaving you to grasp against Mark’s toned arm for balance. “I feel like one too,” you threw back. “Is the room spinning?”

“Shit, dude, how much did you drink?” His voice dropped lower in slight concern.

You hold up three fingers before blinking. No, it was four. You raised another finger. 

“All of them iced teas?” 

“Yup!”

He cursed “Where’s your asshole of a boyfriend? Don’t see him around anywhere— doesn’t he know it’s not safe to leave their girl alone at the bar?” Mark pushed, suddenly worried about your safety. He asked if anyone had hit on you yet and let out a sigh of relief when you reiterated that no one had bothered you. Despite the insult thrown your ex’s way, you remembered how considerate the guy was. The only real reason you hated Mark was due to the rivalry he held with your ex-boyfriend.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, shoulders raising and the material of your blazer shifting. Mark coughed, eyes quickly darting away so they wouldn’t land on the deep cut into your cleavage. “Probably sucking face with the bitch he left me for.”

Another long swig of your iced tea and suddenly, the drink was gone with only ice in the glass. You pointed a finger at his face, “Don’t cheat, folks. It’ll wreck a person.”

“Fuck,” Mark muttered under his breath, now fuming with anger that someone would cheat on a girl like you. It only grew when he realized your best friends had left you at the bar alone. He was going to rip their heads off later— how irresponsible of them. 

“Maybe that’s enough drinking for you today,” he told you, wanting to cut you off so you could sober up. He waved a hand in the air to call the bartender over to request two glasses of water, which was immediately prepared for you.

“Drink up,” Mark commanded, holding the straw to your lips. 

You thanked him with a lazy smile before drinking away, sighing at the refreshing feeling of the cold water running down your throat. He held the drink for you in his hands as you continued to work on the glass, only setting it down after you finished it. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his shoulder. He felt comfortable and you didn’t want to move as you breathed in the addicting scent of his cologne. You always preferred Mark’s fresh cologne over your ex’s overwhelmingly woody scent. It was consoling and safe and nice and—

“Hey, why don’t we move you to a booth? You’ll be more comfortable there,” Mark softly suggested.

“But what if I want to dance for once?” you whined.

“Let’s get you to sober up a bit more and then I can take you dancing, how ‘bout that?” His breath hit your ear and you laughed at the cold sensation before nodding. A flush that had nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed took over your face as the man you said you hated wrapped a supporting arm around your waist.

An hour later, your drunken state was fading as was the loneliness you were dreading. Mark Lee made an excellent company; he wasn’t at all what your ex painted him out to be. He was kind, caring, and endearingly sweet with the prettiest pair of eyes to match. The way his body wiggled to match his overflowing giggles brought the brightest smile to your lips, something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time. 

The time spent with him in the small booth rekindled the crush you harbored for him before you met your sad excuse of an ex, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Hey,” he leaned over the table, his face so close to yours. “You wanna move closer to the screen so we can see the ball drop clearly? It’s forty to midnight. We can dance, too.”

Your eyes curled up in excitement as you agreed, easily slipping your hand in his like you had done it a million times before. The feeling of his larger hand wrapped around yours sent you into a high that you couldn’t really describe. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to let go and thank god he didn’t.

Mark only held you tighter as you arrived on the dance floor with a clear view of the screen. The bass thumped as he tentatively quirked a brow, silently asking you to dance. You replied by draping your arms over the slopes of his shoulder, your fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Tugging you closer at the waist, Mark shot you another look to see if you were okay. The tightening grip around his neck was enough of an answer for him. 

You shivered as his hands ran up and down the sides of your body, his touch almost burning through your glittered suit. When Mark least expected it, you turned around in his hold, pressing your backside against his front. A groan slipped out of his lips before his head dropped against your shoulder, his moist lips ghosting against the exposed skin of your neck. You reached back to hold his head in place as your body grinded into his.

The hand holding your waist tightened at your ministrations, squeezing you in a way that drove you crazy and the pair of lips that left a cautious kiss drove you crazier. The moan you let out and the way your free hand depressed against the one placed on your side was all the confirmation Mark needed to continue the trail of kisses he planned on leaving over the expanse of your neck. You enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your skin so much, your head rolled back and your eyes fluttered to a pleasured close as he nipped at your skin. 

The next half hour was spent with you encaged in Mark’s hold and you weren’t ashamed to say that you enjoyed every minute of it. When catching eyes with Wendy and Johnny across the dance floor, you laughed as your best friend wiggled her brows at you and shot a thumbs up your way. It was then, you realized, that it was their plan to get you two together all along.

Your friends had always mentioned you would get along great, the only thing stopping you was the blasted and unnecessary rivalry that blossomed between Mark and your ex. Now that the terrible excuse of a person was out of your life, there was room for a new man and you found yourself not hating the idea of Mark being the next keeper of your heart.

Five minutes to midnight, you turned around in his hold and smiled up at him. He returned the look with a soft grin of his own. 

“You’re not as bad as I thought you were, Mark Lee.”

“Took you long enough to notice,” he chuckled lowly, the sound sending a warm feeling to the pit of your stomach. “I never thought of you as bad, you know?”

“Is that so?” you countered, your hand freely running through his blond tresses. 

“Yeah, I always thought you were great.”

“Just great?” you teased, leaning a bit forward.

He groaned, “Ugh, dude, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do, dude,” you pushed further, leaving him to touch his head against your shoulder again. You were starting to think that he loved to do it. 

“I always thought you were pretty special,” he whispered into your skin. 

Placing a kiss on the top of his head, you answered back, “I never wanted to admit it but I thought you were pretty special, too.”

“Glad to finally see that the feeling’s mutual,” he laughed before he returned the favor with a kiss to your jaw.

When the countdown from twenty began, Mark shifted both your bodies to face the screen as the people around you started to shout the numbers at the top of their lungs. Wendy and Johnny fought their way through the crowd to get to you and you briefly squeezed your best friend’s hand in greeting. Ready to leave the current year behind and welcome in the new one, you pressed your side into Mark’s before joining in on the countdown. 

You were shining, Mark noticed, like the mirrorball that was projected on the screen. It wasn’t like he mentioned earlier— it had nothing to do with the silver of the suit. It was just you and the way you shined so brightly as your voice blended with the others in the room. You were lost in the feeling and he loved the way you looked under the dim lights. 

He hoped he could see you in more nights to come, for more opportunities to hold you the way he did on the dance floor.

Mark Lee, who was in love with you longer than he could even remember, wanted your midnights and more. He wanted to hold on to the memories of keeping you close and to create new ones if you would let him. 

Hold onto the memories and they’ll hold onto you or so they said.

His eyes were stuck on you like glue as the crowd reached number ten.

Nine!

Mark’s hand wriggled around the ends of your blazer.

Eight!

His fingertips were hot against your bare skin.

Seven!

Mark tugged you closer to him, making you lose your grip on Wendy’s hand.

Six!

He found your hand reaching for his, fingers tangling together like the red string of fate.

Five!

His heart was beating a mile a minute at the feeling of your thumb rubbing against his skin.

Four!

You jerk your head towards him with glistening eyes and the widest smile. His eyes darted down to your colored lips before shifting back to meet your gaze.

“You wanna kiss me so bad,” you teased as your eyes followed his actions and ended up watching his tongue peek out to moisten his now dry lips.

Three!

“And what if I do?”

Two!

“Well, I’m not going to stop you,” came your flirty reply.

One! 

And when the ball dropped from the sky, your hearts stopped for a brief moment.

Cheers for the new year came from all around but Mark Lee didn’t care— all he cared about was your lips fiercely crashing against his. He spun your body round so it slotted so perfectly against his, much like two pieces of a puzzle coming together as a whole. 

The sensation of finally kissing your lips after secretly longing for you was more than satisfactory; it was addictive, more addictive than the drinks he consumed or any other tempting substance that existed in the world. Mark Lee was enthusiastically devoted to kissing you and the idea of ceasing never crossed his mind.

The only reason he did was for you to catch a breath. His eagerness never faltered, his lips running down to your jaw and the sides of your neck. He pecked your temple and forehead as you giggled at his over-the-top display of affection and it was music to his ears.

Pulling you flush into his chest, he whispered a late greeting into your ear, “Happy New Year.”

With your hands resting against his pecs, you glanced up at him with a charming smile, making his heart drop for the second time in the new year. 

“A happy new year indeed.”

author’s note ☆ surprise! happy new year, everyone! (and happy 500+ followers to me!) i coughed this out in like five hours so it’s unedited and not my best work, but i wanted to release something in time for the new year! wishing you the best 2021!! 

this was originally a request and i finally filled it!! ✨

[from-the-dark-past]

Interview with Anders Ohlin in The Black Metal Murders: English translation

Translator’s note: Black metal-morden (English: The Black Metal Murders) is a radio documentary from 2017 produced by Radio Sweden (download). It’s about Mayhem and the Norwegian black metal scene in the ‘90s and contains interviews with Jørn “Necrobutcher” Stubberud, Kjetil Manheim, Eirik “Messiah” Norheim and Anders Ohlin (Pelle Ohlin’s younger brother). 

Here, I’ve translated the parts where Anders Ohlin speaks into English (from Swedish). I’ve added time-stamps and short descriptions for the different sections of the interview. 

I am working on translating the interviews with Necrobutcher, Manheim and Messiah and will post them soon. 

1:51 - 6:35 [Talking about him and Pelle getting into extreme metal]

Anders: We’d started listening to hard rock and it was… We’d, like, worked through all of those… Judas Priest and Iron Maiden. 

Narrator: It’s the mid-1980s in Västerhaninge, a suburb of Stockholm. Pelle Ohlin lives here. He plays in the extreme metal band Morbid and his stage name is Dead. Pelle has introduced his five-years-younger brother to hard rock. Together, they’ve worked through all of the main bands. 

Anders: And you, like, hungered for this… This Other. 

Narrator: The ‘Other’ that younger brother Anders is talking about is extreme metal; music that is faster, darker and harder. A progression of hard rock. Music that isn’t easy to get your hands on at this time. Anders is in his early teens and has gotten his first girlfriend. 

Anders: It was my first relationship and it was super-exciting, and I was at her house, she lived in Jordbro, which is, like, the neighbouring suburb. 

Narrator: Anders’ girlfriend’s older sister has an LP that Anders simply must show his older brother Pelle. 

Anders: It was, like, you knew it was good music, and it was that Destruction record. 

Narrator: Anders sees the German death metal band Destruction’s cover and it’s enough for him to understand that this must be good music. [...] 

Anders: This. This here isn’t Judas Priest and it isn’t Iron Maiden; it’s something else. I’ve got show this fucking record to Pelle. 

Narrator: Anders nags [his girlfriend’s older sister] to borrow the LP. He’s allowed to, but only for the day, so he bikes home in the rain from Jordbro to Västerhaninge as quickly as he can. 

Anders: And it was like [excited noise], like a cartoon; the evil wolf, their eyes bulge out and we both ran -- because we hadn’t heard the LP, only seen the cover -- ran to the record player och then Mom walks up and is like: ‘Stop! You’re forbidden from using the gramophone.’ And it was like, fucking hell, is it going to die here and then we explained to Mom -- ‘This is an extreme record and we’ve borrowed it for the day and it’s going back tomorrow,’ -- and Mom was super-harsh and was like: ‘It doesn’t matter. [...]’ And then we started negotiating and agreed that we could record the LP onto cassette [because you don’t need volume for that]. So, it was on full-blast the entire night and we recorded it and stood bent over the record scratches and were like,‘Shit, this is good stuff’. 

Narrator: Pelles hard rock style stands out against the usual sweatpant-Bagheera-jacket [style], not least the music. 

Anders: The ideals that existed at that time were that you were supposed to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger, which neither he nor I did [laughs]. You were supposed to be handsome and cool and have some fucking helipad on your head. 

Translator’s note: Anders is talking about a flat-top haircut commonly referred to as a ‘helikopterplattafrisyr’ -- helipad haircut -- in Sweden. Think H.R. Haldeman. I’m not sure what the English term for this haircut is. 

Narrator: Anders and Pelle are apart of a small subculture; extreme metal, with subgenres such as trash metal, death metal and black metal, which provokes with its satanic and morbid symbols. Pelle’s band Morbid pushes the limits of what music can sound like. With his stage-name Dead, Pelle sings on the demo December Moon. The new subculture is not embraced by the adult world. 

Anders: Like, we faced this fucking cultural oppression as hardrockers. It was that time-period… And especially if you wanted to do something that was worse than hard rock; it was completely judged. 

14:52 - 15:53 [Talking about Pelle being bullied] 

Anders: He was beaten at school and to such an extent that he actually died for a while, or however you put it. 

Narrator: There’s an explanation to Pelle’s obsession with death. At 13, he was bullied at school and once, he was beaten so badly that his spleen burst. Pelle’s brother Anders Ohlin tells the story.

Anders: He was beaten to death and had some near-death experience as he was laying in the hospital and he kept coming back to that all the time, and I think you can see that as some sort of theme in his songs too. Like, it’s always about the fact that he was actually there and touched something that he doesn’t know what it is, and that was the engine in all that. He was definitely [at the bottom of the pecking order] at school, precisely because he was a bit… He had his special... his special style and was, like, uncompromising, and that was what singled him out, I’d say, markedly from other teenagers. 

18:07 - 18:30 [Talking about Pelle’s depression]

Anders: He would neglect to eat, just to get a cassette tape out or arrange a gig somewhere. 

Narrator: Anders Ohlin, Pelle’s brother. 

Anders: To be a bit harsh, I think that the others gave up at some point. And that’s my personal interpretation. That he suddenly turns around and notices that he hasn’t got the gang with him. And I think that destroyed him. 

21:50 - 22:30 [Talking about Pelle’s suicide] 

Anders: At first, I was actually really pissed at him… Or, like, angry, enraged. I thought that he’d abandoned us -- which he has. That it was so shitty of him; to just take off and leave this big fucking abscess to the rest of us that just kept growing and growing as the years passed. 

Narrator: Christmases become especially painful for the Ohlin family, because that was the time Pelle usually came home. 

Anders: No one felt good on Christmas Eve. It was like a fucking ghost all Christmas. Brutal. So, I remember that I couldn’t celebrate Christmas at all for a very long time. 

1:06:39 - 1:09:31 [Talking about how he and Pelle’s Swedish friends remember him and his life today]

Anders: All of his Swedish friends see him as this exuberantly happy guy that spews ideas and is funny and has a sense of humor and stuff. Then, it’s like a line is drawn when he goes to Norway and they see him as introverted and mysterious and, like, difficult. And that’s two opposite images. 

Narrator: The Pelle Myth is associated with a lot of darkness and death but that’s not how his brother Anders and Pelle’s Swedish friends remember him.  

Anders: I think that’s been the devastating part, but it, like, helped him build… strengthen that myth. It’s hard being that funny dude and saying that you’re, like, Satan. It’s hard, it becomes, like, silly. 

Narrator: Anders is often reminded of Pelle. Usually because of happy memories but also because of that image that he is fighting to remove; the image that Øystein took of Pelle’s corpse which spread because it became the album cover of a Mayhem bootleg, Dawn of the Black Hearts. The image lives its own life on the internet. 

Anders: It’s difficult. It’s very difficult. 

Narrator: Pelle’s fans often want to become Facebook friends with Anders; he receives 3-5 friend requests per day. Sometimes, the people sending the friend requests have themselves shared the image on their social channels. 

Anders: You say you want to be my friend yet you have an image of my brother from when he’s just killed himself and like… body parts all over the wall. Would you think it was okay if I had an image of your brother like that? ‘What,’ they excuse themselves. ‘Oh, fuck, I’d forgotten that I had that image, that’s… Of course, I’ll remove it and I’m ashamed.’ 

Narrator: When Anders asks people to remove the image, most do. 

Anders: I’m terrified for when my children will start to Google those images… Øystein’s parents inherited the rights after Øystein died and [Øystein’s dad] has destroyed the images and I’ve received the rights, gotten to take over the rights from Øystein’s dad, so if anyone uses them in any form is printed media, I can sue the shit out of them. 

Narrator: It’s a small comfort every time one of Pelle’s fans tells Anders how much Pelle means. 

Anders: Most often, they have some story. They tell me how they’ve had a tough period in life and how they’ve, like, really been at a crossroads or something and feel that they received guidance from Pelle’s music. That warms -- That makes you happy. That really warms your heart. 

Narrator: Pelle’s grave is well-visited and every now and then, there’s a handwritten letter or a box of snus by it.