#suffer it everyday for the rest of my miserable life

[rinhaler]

In The World My Demons Cultivate

“Why do you miss me?” he breathes again, your voice hitches at the thought of explaining yourself so intimately. So desperately. You won’t be able to stop him from judging you or mocking you for being so weak, and still, you do as he asks.

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ ghost!toji fushiguro x f!reader

Genre: angst Notes: cried so much writing this oof Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, no smut, dead character (obviously), mental heatlh struggles, suicide ideation, grief/loss, drug abuse, pet names. Words: 3k

Does it ever stop?

“No, not really,” he answers.

You look up, seeing a familiar face, a familiar scar. One that you haven’t seen for a long, long time. It makes you laugh. You’re giggling like a little girl as you look at him. And he’s looking at you, too. A missing memory that you’ve blotted out every single day for as long as you can remember.

How old were you?

How old are you?

It doesn’t matter, you suppose. In the grand scheme of things nothing really matters to you or anyone else. You don’t matter and no one else does, either. You’re just another set of lungs tarring them with filth at the end of the day.

You quit, you did.

You really tried to quit.

But it’s the only thing that makes you stop thinking about your miserable fucking life for a few hours until you pass out and have to live it all over again. Everyday is the same. How do people live like this every single day until they die?

How do people pretend they aren’t suffering when they are?

They are.

You are.

“Can you read my mind, Toji?” you laugh.

He nods. And he notes how your eyes instantly flutter closed when he places a hand on your bare shoulder. It’s been too long since you’ve been touched.

Held.

Loved.

He knows you better than you know yourself. He’s always been like that. You’ve never been able to keep a secret because he’ll get it out of you one way or another. You’ll crack under the pressure of a stare so intense it could turn mere rock to diamonds, the power of glorious green eyes over your fragile mind.

That or you’ll tell him of your own volition.

Does he really possess the power to read your mind? Is that why you love him, so unequivocally? Through all of your faults, he’s here. Through all of his, you love him, still.

You smile.

“I wish I was dead.” you grin, but his face is stoic.

“You said that out loud.” he hisses. You mewl, and it’s gentle, as he runs his fingers through messy, unwashed hair. You’re like a cat, eyes closed and purring for him as you rest your head on his thigh. “Don’t joke about dyin’, sweetheart.”

You didn’t think he’d come, no matter how hard you wished for it. You hadn’t thought he’d show up just for you. And yet, here he is, with his back pressed against your headboard and a deep rumble in his lungs with every heavy intake of exhausted breath.

Like it’s hard.

Hard to breathe or hard to be with you, you don’t know. You don’t want to know, either. He’s here, that’s all that matters now. Things feel good again, normal.

“When did you get here?” you wonder, your voice is barely above a whisper as you speak. Eyes still closed so delicately; he can see the way your eyes are trying to explore your bedroom despite them being shut. He likes that about you, that your mind can never switch off.

But he hates it, too.

He’s not alone in that.

“I’ve been here the whole time, baby.”

Did you forget? Have you misremembered because you’re so fucking stoned? It’s possible, but unlikely. And still, you don’t question it. The warmth of his hand on the crown of your head, the pudgy but sturdy flesh of his thighs beneath your cheek are enough.

You don’t need answers, not now.

The blue light from your laptop flickers and blinds you as the same trailer that Netflix has been repeating for hours now continues to loop and loop. It should be driving you mad, but it isn’t. It’s inaudible to you, especially now.

A heartbeat fills your ears and ricochets between the four walls of your bedroom. The vociferous beating might deafen you if you don’t clear your mind of it, if you don’t speak you might succumb to the burden of it.

“I’ve missed you.” you whimper.

His hand freezes, tongue drying in his mouth before turning into sand he’ll surely choke on. He swallows, and it’s loud. A cartoonish gulp as he hears the sorrow in your words, a meek cry for help that you wouldn’t dare admit to. You couldn’t do that to him, not really, not right now.

“I know.” he sighs.

“I’m so…” you start, your voice fading away as you contemplate keeping your words to yourself. He isn’t the type to care, is he? He hasn’t missed you, anyway. Or at least he didn’t say it, which, to you, surmounts to the same conclusion.

You aren’t missed, not by him.

Neither of you speak, but his fingers resume soothing your scalp. He won’t say he’s missed you. He won’t tell you anything you want to hear; he isn’t like that.

Could it be that he can’t, rather than won’t? It’s trite, burrowing your head between each word and letter he’s spoken and hasn’t spoken. Searching for some double meaning in the words he chooses instead of just some meaning.

Any meaning.

What does it mean to find purpose or reason at a time like this?

It won’t help and it won’t change things. You’ve long accepted that things don’t change for the better. They change, things certainly change. But not for the better. Or maybe they do, for other people.

Not you.

Never you.

“You’re so loud.” he mutters, prompting you to roll over to face him. He looks down at you, it isn’t patronising. It’s generic, which might be worse. There’s no feeling with him, in him, from him. At least if he was patronising you he’d feel something for you.

He’s felt nothing for so long.

You wonder if he ever felt something for you.

“I didn’t say anything.” you tell him.

He does nothing except poke his index finger into your exposed temple, and for some reason, it urges you to smile for him. It’s been so long since you smiled because you wanted to, not because you were forced out of sheer obligation.

That’s why you don’t mind, or rather, prefer being home with nothing but Netflix trailers playing on continuous loop for hours and hours on end while you get so high you scare yourself stupid until you pass out.

It’s a disgusting habit that you can’t rid yourself of.

It’s your only comfort. Your only solace from how downright devastating and pathetic your wretched life truly is.

Nobody expects anything of you when you’re home alone.

“You think too loud,” he starts, the force of his pointed finger becomes deeper but soon leaves completely. Your skin feels colder, right after. Like losing an extra layer of clothing despite being in a warm enough room, you miss the feeling regardless. “You gotta stop.”

You shake your head, closing your eyes again.

“I can’t help it, there’s too much to think about.” you breathe.

The thought of him disappearing into the night never to be seen again, it horrifies you, and it’s at the forefront of your mind. He’s been gone for so long now, you’re sure. He lied, though you aren’t surprised in the least. He’s always been a liar that still possess the ability to have you hanging on his every word.

If you talk, you’re scared he’ll leave. Though he can hear your thoughts, or so he claims.

Again, he’s a liar. If that were true he would have left by now. If he knew how pathetic and desperate your reeling mind sounded he’d have run off and done exactly what you’re worried about him doing.

“You’re so hurt up here, baby,” he tells you, words hushed and secretive as he strokes his thumb across your forehead like you’re precious. Like you’re brittle enough to turn to dust if he applies too much strain. “Aren’t you?”

A sob leaves your throat, and you want the world to swallow you up right then. Tears begin to pour from watery eyes and soak into the material of his trousers before you even think about answering. You do, though. Because you want to, not because he’s making you. You nod, an uncomfortable beat of sniffling silence goes by before you utter a word.

“I wasn’t j-joking.” you start, “I don’t want to be here.” your voice cracks as you speak, the notion of your words and the burden on them weigh down on you enough to make you dizzy and sickly.

He shushes you, not because he wants you to stop talking, but he wants you to stop working yourself up into a nauseated stupor.

“Why?”

“Because I miss you, Toji.” you sit upright, your temperature feels like it drops below freezing when you part from him fully. He pulls you backwards, into his arms before you’re both lying side by side. His chin rests atop your head while you play with your hair, too choked up to say another word.

He doesn’t say it back, again.

But maybe him holding you like this is his way of saying it.

“I don’t know what you mean.” he tells you. His voice is quiet as he speaks into your hair, but you hear him clear enough. You want to argue, but you can’t. The room spins and it feels like you’re floating. Everything mirrors over what feels like hours. Furniture isn’t where you remember it being and you don’t feel like you’re in the right body anymore.

Is he here with you?

You feel a squeeze.

You don’t know what’s happening, anymore.

Those hours that passed were barely a minute. His face is nuzzled into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and his breath is mystifying against your skin. Every huff is like ice and you feel the way your skin clusters and rises in uneven bumps as it tries to preserve any remaining warmth lingering through your body.

“You can tell me, without telling me.” he explains, though you don’t really follow. His arms tighten around you again before releasing you slightly, slowly, enough for you to wriggle around in his hold if you choose to. You don’t. You’re completely still, digesting his words. “I’ll hear you, no matter what.”

“I don’t know what to say, Toji… I, I really don’t.”

“Why do you miss me?” he breathes again, your voice hitches at the thought of explaining yourself so intimately. So desperately. You won’t be able to stop him from judging you or mocking you for being so weak, and still, you do as he asks.

Not because he told you to, no. You’d do it anyway. You do it every single day when given the opportunity to dwell. All he can do is hold you as buckle under the lofty ideals and pressurizing weight of your spoiled existence.

I miss how I felt with you. I miss how life felt worth living each day because there was so much to do with you. Nothing felt impossible, everything is impossible, now. Even small things that are simple for others, aren’t for me. Things felt new and exciting, I’m too tired of everything now. Food seemed more appetizing with you, everything tastes worse now.

Things are meant to get better, easier. People say that but I feel the same as I always have. It fluctuates, there are ebbs and flows but ultimately I’m always going to be sad. My skin feels worse and my body doesn’t belong to me anymore. I don’t want to be in it, I don’t want to be attached to the skin and bones that are meant to be mine. They aren’t. They were never meant to be mine. I’m wasting the oxygen in my lungs, I’m rotting.

Everyday is the same.

I only rot and wither.

I’m lonely and unsatisfied. Nothing makes me happy because I don’t have you. No lover will compare. No meal will stave away the starving pangs I feel in my stomach. No drink will be cold enough to quench my thirst in the beastly summers and none will be hot enough to warm my bones in the bitter winter.

I’m wholly unsatisfied.

People do great things. Not me. I don’t doubt people would miss me if I died, but I don’t really care. It’s selfish, but I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I miss you, I miss you more than I’d ever be missed. I mourn your life, a life that isn’t mine, more than I will ever mourn my own. Every breath I take feels like a theft. I’m stealing the air and lung capacity of someone greater than myself, someone worthy.

I’m worthless.

I speak sentences no one cares about, not like you do. No one will ever care about me like you do, and you don’t even miss me. I wouldn’t, either, I suppose. Any words I say, poetry I write, canvas I paint, is worthless. I am a burden in people’s eyes, my creations aren’t worth viewing, my point of view isn’t worth seeing, I’m worthless.

I am worthless, Toji.

Do you think I am? Maybe if things were different, maybe if I didn’t miss you so much, I wouldn’t feel like this. I wouldn’t feel burdened by a life lost and squandered that I will never be able to know the way I so desperately crave. It’s my fault, I know. I love you and I want you back but I’ve lost you forever.

What I have now, my miserable little life, is what I will have forever. A true burden, a hinderance, a stain. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t. How am I expected to live a life I’m so depressed by for the sake of others. So I don’t make my family or friends sad. It’s selfish, I’m selfish, I’m finding it hard to care as each day passes.

I’d rather be with you, now.

Things don’t get better, I won’t get better.

I know my thoughts are loud, my thoughts are exhausting and it’s hard to hear or think clearly like this. But if I’m with you, it’ll stop.

I don’t want to miss you anymore.

I don’t want to be lonely anymore.

No one loves me the way I need to be loved; but I don’t know how to ask for it.

You sit bolt upright, breathless before running to the bathroom. You’re panting and your mouth feels warm and icky from the taste of swallowed tears. Though your face still shines under the bathroom light from them. You don’t have a glass, you bend over and drink water directly from the tap as you try and regain your composure.

He’s staring at you from his spot on the bed as you gasp and devour each droplet you can. It coats your tongue and bulges through your throat as you take heartier gulps than you had any business taking.

But soon enough, you’re back in his arms as you try and calm yourself down. You’re always tired, but now, after that, you’re exhausted. You wonder if he really did hear you or if he lied to you. It doesn’t matter you suppose. There’s nothing you can do to make him miss you too. There’s nothing you can do to force him back to you.

He’s gone.

For good.

“Why are you still here?” he asks you. Your eyes open, only a little, wondering if you heard him right. “If you were serious, if you weren’t joking, why?”

“… I’m scared,” you admit. “I wasn’t joking… but I am scared. And I know… I know people love me, I know people care about me. It doesn’t feel like enough, it never has and I don’t think it ever will. But… it’s something.”

“Why are you scared?” he continues.

“I— I don’t think things will get better.” you confess. “But what if… they do?”

You don’t see the way he smiles when he hears you speak. When he hears that resilience in your words. You’re hurting, you’re struggling. And still you’re here. You’re trying, your fighting. You’re hoping.

Things might not get better. But what if they do?

One day you might remember why your favourite foods are your favourite foods again. The TV shows and films you love might feel warm and familiar again. There could be someone, anyone, waiting to find you so you can share these things with them, too.

Things could change.

People might listen to your thoughts and care about them. The words you write might matter to someone. The paintings you create might be worlds people fantasize living in as they hang on their walls.

Someone might love you the way you need to be loved, without you knowing how to ask for that brand of love.

Toji misses you, he mourns you, too. But you understand, now. He doesn’t want to hold you back anymore. He doesn’t want you to keep suffering because of him. Because you miss him.

So, you’ll always miss him, there won’t be a day you won’t think about him.

But if there’s a chance, however small, that things might change, he wants you to take it.

“Goodnight, baby.” he hums. “… Princess? I’m proud. I'm proud of you.”

It warms your body to hear him say it. It’s a little embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s words, maybe it’s lip service, but you made someone proud. And you sleep peacefully with that knowledge.

Daybreaks through the window, bright and invasive enough to break you from your sleep. You fell asleep above the covers, you aren’t being held anymore. There’s no noise in your apartment, there’s no signs of life besides your own beating heart.

Maybe it was like that the whole time.

--

© 2024 rinhaler

[themuseoftheviolets]

former friends

sat down to write 'til my dying day last night but ended up writing emmeline and pandora post first war angst instead. so here, have this: (this was intended as platonic but i feel like it can also be read as romantic from pandora's side)

wc: 1,148

On top of a hill behind a house in the shape of a rook, stands a place of rest. It is not quite a graveyard, and there no bodies buried there, no uneasy souls to haunt the people who live within it's space.

Emmeline approaches the gravestones and spits on them.

"Why did you bring me here?" She asks, keeping her gaze on the plaques. The first one reads beloved friend, the second beloved brother. Emmeline feels rage forming in the pit of her stomach. That word doesn't belong there, to these people. There is nothing about them to love anymore.

At least not for Emmeline. But for the woman that is standing behind her, they were worth loyalty that they didn't deserve.

"Because I wanted to see you, because I miss you." Pandora says, and Emmeline scoffs.

"You lost the right to miss me when you sided with them." There is venom on her tongue now, spitting poison onto every person she talks to. It has been this way for years, she can no longer remember what it felt like to be soft.

"I didn't choose a side." Pandora says, stubborn and unyielding, like she's always been.

"But you did.” Emmeline argues, and her voice is raspy and ragged. “You saw the snakes on their arms and you still let them be in your life. You chose them."

“They were my friends.”

“I was your friend!” Emmeline snaps, turning around to face Pandora. She looks both sixteen and sixty, both light and heavy. She has a baby strapped to her chest, a child that Emmeline has never met, a child that she should have met. She takes a deep breath, holds it for as long as she can until it starts to burn her lungs, then releases. “And you sure as hell didn’t choose me.”

"You chose to erase six years of history." Pandora says. Her voice isn’t the same anymore, changed by years of screaming matches and curses. It’s a wonder their vocal cords still work at all, Emmeline thinks. “You love them, I know you do. You can say whatever you want to your new friends, tell whichever lie helps you sleep at night, but I know you want them back just as much as I do.”

“No, I don’t.” Emmeline shakes her head. The lie comes easily, after years of practice. She has told it to herself and to Dorcas and to every person in the Order. She tells it to her reflection in the mirror everyday, repeats it like affirmations whenever she looks at the stick and poke tattoo on her leg that she let Evan do in sixth year; the one matching with Barty, the design that Regulus drew for them.

I hate them, she thinks, I hope they rot in hell. Fuck Regulus Black, fuck Evan Rosier, fuck Barty Crouch Jr.

Sometimes, she’ll say fuck Pandora, too.

I hope their deaths were slow and painful, I hope Barty suffers for the rest of his life.

On particularly hard nights, she’ll drink half a bottle of firewhiskey and she’ll wish that Pandora is miserable for the rest of her life.

But now, when she looks into her former friend’s eyes, looks at the bundle of white hair resting against her chest, she can’t quite bring herself to curse her.

“I miss you.” Pandora says, and Emmeline knows it’s true. Pandora is many things, but a liar is not one of them. She and Emmeline are opposites that way. “Don’t you miss me?”

“I can’t forgive you.” Emmeline lies again, because she can’t help it. Cruelty sits at the tip of her tongue, the truth lays buried deep inside her chest.

Pandora looks hurt by it, and in this moment Emmeline hates herself more than she hates her former friends.

“I am not asking you to forgive me, or them.” Pandora says, taking a step forward. She is eye to eye with Emmeline and stares her down with a courage that Emmeline has never possessed. All she wants to do is look away, avoid Pandora's presence because it is easier to tell herself she never wants to see her again that way. Easier to lose someone you love when you're not seeing them everyday. “I want you in my life again, Emmy, I want you in Luna’s life. You were supposed to be her godmother, you and Re–”

She cuts herself off but Emmeline knows what she was going to say. You and Regulus, my best friends, my child’s protectors. Guilt is an ocean in her mind that she dives in daily, anger is the sand she lays on when she dries herself off.

It wasn't always this way. Before any hints of war, before there were lines drawn and sides chosen, before Emmeline chose Dorcas and her friends and Pandora chose the friends with the Dark Mark on their arms; before all of that, they were a tight group, a family.

Emmeline, Pandora, Evan, Barty, Regulus.

But now the war is over and Regulus and Evan are dead, Barty is in Azkaban, and Emmeline and Pandora are still on a battlefield but Pandora is laying down her weapons, waving a white flag while Emmeline is still aiming an arrow at her chest.

“I love you, Emmy.” Pandora says, her eyes filling with tears. It breaks Emmeline’s heart, rips it right out of her chest. “I want you back.”

She could stay, could go inside the house and meet Pandora’s new life and be a part of it. She could stop fighting and she could admit that she misses her friends. She could hold Luna in her arms and tell her bedtime stories.

She doesn’t. Instead, Emmeline chooses to break Pandora’s heart in return.

“I’m leaving.” She tells her, voice firm and leaving no room for arguments. “Mary and I are moving away.”

“Mary,” Pandora spits her name like it’s poison. “Mary Macdonald, isn’t it? Your new friends’ friend. You’re choosing her instead of me.”

“Yes.”

Pandora turns to look at the gravestones and Emmeline wants to ask her if it was worth it, if they were worth it. She wants to say I told you so, to rub it in Pandora’s face that she made the wrong choice, and has lost Emmeline because of it. That Evan, Regulus and Barty were never going to change, that she should have cut them off like Emmeline did. That she should have chosen a side and that it shouldn't have been theirs. She wants to poke at Pandora's wounds until they are as big and bloody as her own. Until there is no hope of healing.

Was it worth it? Would you do it again?

She doesn’t, though, and Pandora simply nods and says, “I hope you’re happy.” before going back inside her house.

Emmeline is left standing in the ruins of her own heart.

[froody]

having a functional colon is a luxury item for me. it’s more than that, actually. the yearly upkeep is enough to buy a nice suburban home. arguing with insurance and the pharmacy and doctors takes up so much time and so much energy that I do not have. and still I feel like shit, pun intended. still I suffer from periodic incontinence that makes me anxious to leave the house. still I struggle to make myself eat. still I wake up with an aching stomach everyday. still my body is like a fragile game of jenga. if I didn’t have the extreme privilege of having parents who let me on their insurance and help me financially, I’d be dead. and I’ll be playing this game for the rest of my sad, miserable little life.

[asukamood]

SPOILER ALERT FOR PERILOUS TRAIL’S LAST PART

HELP I JUST NOTICED AUTOCORRECT CHANGED MY KARMATIC DEBT TO K E R M I T

TW: Xiao’S Kermatic debt, do I have to say anything else-

“Xiao-“ Yelan reached out her hand to him but before they could touch, she disappeared in a green and black mist along with the others. Teleporting the others out of this place was the last thing he could have done, he didn’t have any more energy now.

Without any way of maintaining the Fantastic Compass going, the platform broke and let Xiao fall backward into the darkness.

He didn’t make any attempt to turn into his real form and fly, he knew it would be pointless. The Conqueror of Demons didn’t value his life and never did. When he signed the contract with his deity, Rex Lapis, he was prepared to die for the sake of others. Hell, he was even happy to do so.

In his eyes, dying to make sure others lived was a way of atoning for the eons of slaughter he performed before and after he had met the deity. Plus, death would free him for the karmic ties that made him suffer everyday, threatening to make him lose his mind.

And yet, falling in that empty void felt wrong.

What could be making him doubt that dying would be good?

He closed his eyes and emptied his mind. He was going to succumb to this darkness anyways, there was no need to wonder about that.

Unknown to him, a trail of golden magic coming from the surface dived down and split up into multiple parts. They surrounded him and he felt… warmth enveloping him. Before he knew it, he was kneeling on solid ground, the rays of the sun illuminating him and the people he saved rushing towards him.

***

It has been a few weeks since Chasm's accident took place.

Life had gone back to normal for everyone. Itto and Shinobu left Liyue for their mother country after spending some time with the others, Yanfei restarted to take cases, Yelan went back to inspecting the depths of the Chasm and as for Xiao, he resumed defending Liyue from the phantomatic wrath of the fallen gods.

Dozens of hillichurls’ corpses lay lifeless on the ground as black mist evaporated in the air. In the middle of this corpse display. A short dark-haired man stood, bloody spear in hand. The very same mist from the hillichurls was leaving his body and he found that he had a hard time breathing.

Karmic debt.

Xiao was used to the pain, he had lived with it for as long as he could remember after all. Yet today, the ache that shook his entire body was simply unbearable. The pain seemed to have increased in strength, so much that it got Xiao collapsing and miserably gasping for air as he tried to keep his screams and other noises as quiet as possible.

If someone heard him, they would approach and get hurt. He couldn’t let that happen.

The sky in front of him started to wobble and turn a crimson red, his eyes closed a few seconds before opening back again, each time becoming harder to keep them open. The pain grew and he felt like the earth was going to split open and let the fallen deities devour him whole, similarly to how he ate dreams of mortals in the past. Something pressed his stomach and churned it, twisting it into an awkward angle. He accidentally let out a scream before gritting his teeth and holding onto dear life on the ground with his shaky free hand.

Just as he thought that would be it, the end of his story, he felt himself being picked up from the ground by a strong pair of arms. The area around him stabilized and the crimson color that covered the entirety of the place faded away, making place for the usual relaxing blue sky and green grass. Even the nausea and pain he felt disappeared with them, a sigh of relief escaping his mouth. Yet he was so tired…

“Rest.” The voice didn’t leave any place for questions or objections, the order was clear. Despite that, the boy still fought against exhaustion, fearing that it would actually have the opposing effect of resting. Besides, he didn’t want to go, not yet.

A hand brushed his forehead gently and placed a rebellious strand of hair back in place. “Do not fret,” That voice he knew so well was soothing, it was starting to lull him to sleep. “I will be here when you wake up. Just go to sleep.”

At the edge of passing out, the boy turned his head to look at the man’s face. The last thing he saw was a pair of golden and orange irises, pupils similar to a reptile, staring back at him.

Xiao’s head fell to the side again and slow breathing could be heard if silent enough. Zhongli, who was still holding him in his arms, sighed and pet his hair, earning an appreciative noise from the sleeping man.

The old dragon cracked a smile. “Maybe I should ask the Director for more vacation.”

***

The smell of brewing tea was what Xiao woke up to. His vision being a bit blurry and memory foggy, he started to wonder where he was. Wasn’t he out dealing with demons? That’s when it hit him. Red, karma, pain, scream, relief, Rex Lapis.

Rex Lapis.

Xiao jerked his body upward, eyes as wide as planets. His body didn’t like the sudden movement if the way nausea suddenly hit him like a truck was of any indication, he slumped back down, wincing.

Footsteps echoed near him and the smell of the tea got closer.

“You should take it easy. That episode you had was way more painful than usual, your body is still recovering from it.” Zhongli didn’t look at Xiao when he said that since he was busy placing the steaming cup of tea on the table besides his bed. He sat down on the wooden chair he moved earlier as Xiao watched with a wide open jaw.

When he told him he was going to stay, he didn’t think he actually would stay.

Zhongli noticed the stare Xiao was giving him and chuckled. “What is that look for? Surprised I was actually here when you woke up?” The Yaksha could nod dumbly, unable to form comprehensible words.

“Well I told you I would and as the God of Contracts, that would be quite out of character not to.” Zhongli briefly glanced at the cup before turning back to Xiao. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh…” Xiao frowned. “Better.”

The deity nodded. “Would you like some tea? You were quite cold when I found you back there.” Xiao accepted and drinking it did make him feel warmer, he didn’t even notice how cold he felt.

Zhongli flashed him a smile. “I bought you some sweet tofu as well in case you were hungry.”

“… Whose money was it?”

“We don’t speak of that.” Xiao snickered, feeling more relaxed than he had done in years- No, centuries. Was it because Rex Lapix was beside him? It could be an explanation. The fact he was babying him too was quite enjoyable if he were honest.

“Sure dad.” Silence.

Once the weight of what he just called the geo archon dawned on him, his cheeks flared up with blush. “MY LORD. I MEANT TO SAY MY LORD!”

‘Oh no, what if he gets weirded out and doesn’t want to see me anymo-‘

The sound of genuine laughter interrupted his thoughts.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed, I’m glad you see me as a father figure.” Zhongli beamed at him while he patted his hair.

The reason why it felt so wrong to die back in the Chasm was right here after all.

He wanted to stay by Rex Lapix’s side forever and death would make them part ways, that’s why he didn’t want to die.

[mineofilms]

Womb (2010)

Womb (2010) (Russia) Written/Directed By: Benedek Fliegauf (Hungarian) Stars: Eva Green, Matt Smith, Lesley Manville IMDB Rating: 6.3/10 Stars Rotten Tomatoes Audience Score: 45%

Plot Synopsis: After her lover (Matt Smith) dies prematurely, a woman (Eva Green) makes the controversial decision to bring him back to life by giving birth to his clone. From his infancy to manhood, she faces the unavoidable complexities of her controversial decision.

My Review: This nearly 2-hour movie would have made a better 65-minute Black Mirror episode than a full-length foreign art film about the perversion of technology from grief. I don’t know... I can see how some might like it as an "art film." Me... Not so much... I have never been a fan of foreign filmmakers trying to have political commentaries about society touching on a possible POV of the everyday American POV.

Not saying this movie was made for Americans, it clearly isn't but it feels like they tried to cater to American movie lovers and with that, failed miserably. That is why I said Black Mirror here. If they just would have stayed with the mental health aspects, the perversion of technology and more horror/thriller-based themes the movie might have been better than it actually was.

Right now to me; it just comes off as pretentious and morally/sexually weird border lining on downright sick. Some on MovieChat.org were very arrogant about wanting the film banned and whatnot. That isn't the dumbest thing I read on there in relation to the film lol. Some people were/are just straight nasty and added nothing but name calling at each other. Probably why I hardly ever go on there anymore.

That site was, may still be, the best alternate to the IMDB.com message boards that they removed some years back due to “toxic fandom.” I hate these buzzwords people and the media will create to describe something insanely toxic online.

But It's Whatever.

It's a 10-11-year-old film now and they tend to talk about perverting technology with cloning all the time in films/shows now. If it would have been more Black Mirror style this might have had a shot at being decent.

This whole thing was executed wrong and sloppy… That is why it sort of doesn't make much sense on the narrative. Spoilers ahead… What I took away from the film was she is a virgin this whole time. She longed for her long-lost love. They finally meet up as adults. A day or 2 later he is killed in a car accident. At that point, she has emotionally checked out. She immediately goes back into the jeep not being able to properly process the accident and his passing.

Since this is "sci/fi" they introduce cloning as an option with almost no real explanation as to why/how this is a thing in this low-tech narrative story line. It is just part of the reality here, but they make no real introduction that this is a future human society. We could have used some visual clues that this is a technologically evolved society. Maybe like the teddy bear from A.I. Something "advanced" to show us humans are very capable with technology, but lack normal basic human skills like grieving a lover.

This movie really needed a Black Mirror and/or American Horror take to it and maybe a cohesive script... Now it just looks like a very misunderstood, artsy, weird sexual tension film. There are few themes in the film that they could have dug more into, but chose not to and the film suffers because of it. The performances are fine. The cast was really good for a really badly written script and just about all the lovey/dovey child scenes are very awkward and to most American audiences this wouldn’t make much sense to us. To non-Americans, maybe it is better understood but I don’t know. Most of the comments I saw about the film are about a decade old now and most had nothing but negative things to say about the film.

The rest of the comments looked like your everyday Twitter Troll looking to stir the pot. The only reason I watched this is because I wanted to see more of Eva Green because I just think she is fantastic in everything, even if said film is really bad, like this one. Just a little mini-review here. I’d say enjoy Womb but there wasn’t much here to enjoy. It is a cluster of nonsense that also borderlines on the weird sexual dynamic at play here. Very hard to enjoy that, but if you are into dystopian style stories with decent performances then someone, somewhere may actually like this movie.

Womb (2010) by David-Angelo Mineo 8/1/2022 776 Words

[health-is-wealth1985]

Breathing Easier Thanks to Seatox: A Relief for My Allergies

For years, I battled seasonal allergies that made everyday life miserable. Stuffiness, itchy eyes, and constant sneezing were a regular occurrence, hindering my ability to enjoy outdoor activities and even a good night's sleep. Over-the-counter medications offered temporary relief, but often came with unwanted side effects. Looking for a more natural solution, I discovered Seatox, a marine phytoplankton supplement. Intrigued by its potential benefits, I decided to give it a try, starting with a 3-bottle pack. Here's how Seatox helped me breathe easier and reclaim my life from allergies.

Reduced Allergy Symptoms and Improved Overall Well-being

After using Seatox for a few weeks, I noticed a significant reduction in the severity of my allergy symptoms. The constant sniffles and itchy eyes became less frequent, and the overall intensity of the allergic reactions lessened. This improvement in my allergy response was a welcome relief. Additionally, I felt a general boost in my well-being. Seatox contains a variety of vitamins and nutrients that seemed to give me more energy and improve my overall health. I found myself waking up feeling more refreshed and ready to tackle the day.

Natural Ingredients and Sustainable Relief

One of the main reasons I opted for Seatox was its focus on natural ingredients. Made from marine phytoplankton, it offered a safe alternative to conventional allergy medications that often come with drowsiness or other side effects. The fact that Seatox targets the root cause of allergies by supporting the immune system also appealed to me. I wasn't interested in a quick fix, but rather a long-term solution to manage my allergies. After experiencing the positive effects of the 3-bottle pack, I decided to invest in the 6-bottle option to ensure continued relief throughout allergy season.

Long-Term Relief and Improved Quality of Life

Thanks to Seatox, I can finally enjoy the outdoors without worrying about allergy flare-ups. Simple activities like going for a walk or spending time in the park are no longer a struggle. I also sleep better at night, unbothered by allergy symptoms that previously disrupted my rest. The overall improvement in my quality of life has been remarkable. Seatox has allowed me to be more active, energetic, and present in my daily activities.

A Powerful Ally in Managing Allergies

If you suffer from allergies, I highly recommend giving Seatox a try. While I started with the 3-bottle pack to see its effectiveness, the 6-bottle option offers a more long-term solution to manage seasonal allergies. Seatox is a natural and effective way to reduce allergy symptoms and improve your overall well-being. Remember, consult with your doctor before starting any new supplement, especially if you have any underlying health conditions. But for those seeking relief from allergies, Seatox is a powerful ally you won't regret having on your side.pen_sparktunesharemore_vert

[woeiswo]

I'm starting my day. What's my usual first activity?

How bad do you need to urinate or "piss",

as the first thing when you start the day after you wake up,

as the word is "so specific" to the dickhead shit-disturber.

Does the piss come out of my mouth or out your useless, limp, wet end?

Cut you off of my soul. inverted nigger.

Carve you out of my tree of life or spiritually binding equation and be my own single earthly vessel nigger.

MAYBE smoking a bowl would quench the clinging fires of war. But that is sort of counterproductive to atarting my day. So I suffer because some fat hippo needs to fuck with shit to ensure he's on top of me or ahead of me nigger.

Pretty sure there's a religious story that validates this scorned lover's spat.

Like "daddy" trying to keep me on a blind man's leash or choke chain like a nigger slave.

But I'm an animal. I don't speak or understand words. And yet here I am anyway.

Eat dirt you stupid fucking jock.

I'm not your intervention-brained-and-motivated, mormon chastity police mascot, or your mormon seeing eye dog to guide you, every time you GET LOST.

How was the rest of yesterday?

"nigger"-free or not?

Don't try to tell me what you don't like wire-licking nigger noones going to accommodate your will or comfort zone to align wills or imaginary beliefs with you. you are my enemy nigger.

Two conscious souls or conflicting and fighting, sentient beings do not coexist in one human vessel nigger.

This isn't your mommy's uterus and I'm not your retarded twin brother for you to beat up on, kicking and screaming and fighting, competing over food and territory in mommy's uterus before I'm born.

Oh look, the baby's kicking. Now the baby is retarded because his twin sister was programmed to be an overbearing prenatal bitch before birth.

I think you don't like my perfect words or my perfect closing statements. I look good when my aesthetic looks good. You dont like that nigger.

As if you see my prosperity as a "threat" or competition over somebody's affections or praise in a popularity contest between me and you nigger.

You also think you have the power to fuck with people's things by refusing to ground your circuit and try to force an arc instead of the current going to earth or ground nigger.

GO EMPTY YOUR BLADDER AND STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF, MISERABLE SELF-PITY BRAINED FAGGOT. Stop drinking a gallon of piss everyday nigger.

Are you a crippled cow crawling on two broken legs and asking me to make good use of this sword on you nigger?

Or did you run out of "evil"? nigger.

Was I supposed to "Pete" or "re-Pete", or make the "EAT DIRT, NIGGER." part redundant by repeating it nigger? Does doing things that sound like Redondo save you from missing the exodus on Noah's Ark to the afterlife nigger?

Do I need to be saved? or do YOU nigger?

As if you're just doing the f u cking child's peepee dance and waiting for me to give you some sense of direction LOST NIGGER.

[snarkysinner]

Chapter One — Lost In The Moment.

Chapter One — Lost In The Moment

In broad daylight, It’s a hot one, I could feel my balls melting. It feels like seven inches from the midday sun, riding a Shadow motorcycle down the streets of LA, California. Watching the homies in the streets painting graffiti on Lowrider cars (classic but modified) the way those cars bounce up and down is neat, and it’s a popular thing in this side of the neighborhood.

I pulled up in the parking lot in front of the beach, remaining upon the motorcycle seat, shirtless, exposing my tats. The only thing, I had on were my destroyed jeans. My eyes were wild, blue as the raging sea. Watching the waves of the ocean, stirred something behind these blue eyes.

____

I grew up in LA with my parents. One night I climbed out of the bed to hide under the stairs. My parents were having a conversation in the kitchen. I heard them talking about my dads other family with my mom, she was highly aware of his past.

She knew he had another woman with a son, older than me. My father had a double life, it was something very common that a man could have more than one woman with kids. I recall the influence my father had on me. He would help me with my homework everyday and send me to bed, he would stay up late reading the next chapter, to make sure he could help me, the next day.

I had glowing things to say about him, like he used to love vintage cars. He was a mechanic by day and a street racer by night. That is how I started to love them too with the same passion and adrenaline. My father used to say.

“Don’t ever try to undertand cars, they are more complicated than women.”

A rather amused grin finds its ways across chiseled features. After school every day that he was home, I used to jog to my fathers garage, wearing a blue mechanic jumpsuit as a ten year old kid, I was excited to help him with his 67 Shelby Mustang.

Learning everything he knows. Sunday nights were the best by far, I was four years old when he used to sit me on his lap and let me drive with him a few blocks from the house.

“Time to come back to your mother, son. Buckle up.” Lifted down my weight from his lap to settle down in the passenger seat with my seat belt. Tilted my head in his direction while he was driving us back to our house. “Dad, when am I gonna meet, my older brother?”

He casted a quick look in my direction. “Did your mom tell you about him?” Shakes my head. “No I heard both of you, talking about him.”

Something sparked my curiosity to know more about him. I always wanted to have a brother—He smiled. “I promise you, I’ll take you with me to meet him.”

Everything that followed happened in a blur. In the midst of the road, we came across a bunch of motorcycles doing stunts one of the biker suffers a hydraulics malfunction and spins out of control, hitting us from behind, sending his bike flying from under him into a row of parked bikes, throwing him through a store window and killing him instantly.

Somehow my dad manages to dodge the rest of the bikes and keep us on the road while his vision is obscured by flames from the hood. We suffered an accident, the engine, rubber and one of the doors of the vehicle came off and were several meters away.

We crashed against a street light, the vehicle mangled pretty bad on side and he was badly injured, the rear part was practically destroyed. I remember the feeling of blood rushing against my face, the impact shattered the windscreen before me.

Watching my father bite the dust in an unfortunate accident wasn’t what I expected to happened that night. Groan in pain with the sting of broken glass in my skin.

Abruptly, unfastened the seat belt from my body to move to his side, he remained unconscious or at least that's what I thought.

Punching my dad’s body repeatedly before trying to drag him out of all this mess, but he was to damn heavy for me, I failed miserably, tears start to running down my face coated in blood.

I shouted at him. “DAD! wake up... DAD! You made me a promise... You need to watch your boys grow!” The saddest part in this is, I could feel the pain and the raw emotion in my voice.

He was no longer breathing. In fact his body was trapped between the seat and the steering wheel. “DAD!”

lifted an arm against his back and placed a kiss upon his head. I could feel it still warm and I stayed there until the paramedics arrived with first aid, everything was moving in slow motion, but I was the only that made it out alive.

The cure to pain isn't something you buy at the liquor stores, no. Nor the tat that you've paid. Nobody told me I could feel this type of pain. The sting of loss, I’ve heard it called.

Having to witness my father's death, It was something that taught me to live in the moment. It is said that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. That is true, it's called life.

____

Close my eyes as I feel the cold hand of Shalimar rubbing against my tattooed nape. “Chase” her voice pulled me from my flashback and tossed me back into our reality. Sometimes I wish I could block those memories of that night—They pop up back in my mind like, (remember me)

She wrapped her arms around me and placed a soft kiss upon my forehead. “Are you okay?”

Nodded my head. “Yes, babe.” I caressed her lush lips with the pad of my thumb. A wild grin had toyed upon my lips. “What are you up to?” She laughed. “Baby, I don’t kiss and tell.” Inked fingers twisted the key ignition of my motorcycle and she hopped behind me as I ride away.

[sparrowposting]

I think maybe it's best that I'm single and alone. Not even for the myriad of things wrong with me and normal relationship hangups (though both of those are factors too) but mostly because I fear becoming halward pavus. I fear being torn between perceived duty to faith and love of a child. Of warping and twisting that love until it resembles my parents, or worse, halward.

It is better this way.

[anvesha-v]

"I'm suffering from depression."

"Why are you depressed? Everything is so good in your life. I don't know why you're always this sad. Sometimes I think you're just being dramatic or you want everyone's attention, that's it."

Everyone tells you this when you tell them you're "suffering" from depression, don't they? People who have never dealt with depression think it's just being sad or being in a bad mood. That's not what depression is for me; it's falling into a state of numbness and grayness. It's so difficult to describe depression. It's not sadness. I know sadness, it's about crying and feeling. But depression is just the opposite. It's the cold absence of feeling. It's about trying to feel but failing miserably.

Having anxiety and depression is like being scared and tired at the same time. It's the fear of failure but no urge to be productive. It's wanting friends but hate socializing. It's wanting to be alone but not wanting to be lonely. It's caring about everything then caring about nothing. It's feeling everything at once then feeling paralysingly numb.

If the silence doesn't kill you, the way people assume all is well without asking to find out would. Depression is not about having no friends, it's about having friends that don't care.

And the hardest part of coming out of depression fog is coming back into reality. While you feel better, you're instantly faced with the people and tasks you've neglected. No one talks about the guilt that comes along with that.

They'll tell you that you'll get over it and it's just in your head. They don't understand. It's not in my head, it's in me. Depression isn't a war you win. It's a battle you fight everyday. You never stop, never get to rest. It's one bloody fray after another.

So, I think it's better to give up on "them." Stop sharing your thoughts, because if they can't make it better, they have no right to make it worse either. Instead of making people understand you, try to be open, accepting, and loving toward yourself and what you’re going through. If you’re having a down day, have it. Let yourself feel the emotions — but don’t stay there. Today’s mood, emotions, or thoughts don’t belong to tomorrow. Do everything that used to make you happy.

And then one day you'll realize how beautiful it is to be alone but not lonely. No judgements and no talks. And when this day comes, you'll find your happiness all over again.

☆ This video is just about how parents assume we have everything and even then we're "stressed" and we're doing everything for attention or being dramatic just because we're teenagers. They neglect their own child's thoughts and judge them on the basis of what others say about them. They generally care when it's too late. They don't understand that if we wanted attention, we'd never have hidden it.

[riskypeaches]

2,365 Days

2,365 days. That’s how long it took you to realize that you were in love with Han Jisung. It took him another 36 to realize that he never stopped.

Pairing: Han Jisung/reader, female reader.

Word Count: 2.1k 

Genre: Romance, college au, idiots in love, slight angst, angst with a happy ending, childhood best friends to lovers au.

Warnings: Excessive usage of italics and Y/N because that’s how I roll. Also profanity, I like to cuss. 

Bits and pieces of a story idea I had for Han. Events happen chronologically, but a fair amount of time is skipped before and after each bit. Heavily inspired by the song Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship), go ahead and take a listen!

                                                                                                                        ↢

“Two thousand, three hundred and sixty-five days!”, you shouted. 

Jisung stopped in his tracks, furrowing his eyebrows. “Y/N, what are you on about?”.

“Two thousand, three hundred and sixty-five days”, you stated again. “That’s- that’s how long it took me to realize I was in love with you”.

His mouth parted in shock at your confession. “Look, Y/N-”, he started but you cut him off. 

“I don’t want to hear it!”, you said furiously shaking your head. “I know it’s stupid! I am never going to be over how stupid it was that I could be in love with someone for that long and not realize it until a couple weeks ago!”. 

He took a step forward reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder. On any other day you would have gladly accepted the comfort, but the look in his eyes in that moment sickened you. In all the years you had known him, he had never once looked at you like that. And you fucking hated it. 

All you could see was pity. 

You dodged his hand, instead letting your own arms wrap around your front. You didn’t want comfort from him, not right now at least. All his touch did was make you hurt. 

“The worst part about this is that I think you used to be in love with me too”, you murmured, shrinking into yourself. “And I’m- I’m so sorry I never realized it until now because I think… I think I could have saved you a lot of pain if I just took one fucking look at what was right in front of me”. 

“Y/N…”, he said looking at you with a pained expression. 

“Jisung I’m sorry, I really am. I know you’re with someone right now. I’m not trying to- steal you from them or something I just…”, you trailed off. 

“You just what?”, he said. 

“I just!”, you said looking at the ceiling to hold back your tears. Pressing the heel of your hands into your eyes you took deep steadying breaths. 

“Jisung, I want you to be happy. I really do. And if that girl makes you happy then- that’s enough for me! I just… needed to give my best friend an explanation instead of dropping off the face of the earth”. 

“Dropping off…?” he said, beginning to look vaguely panicked. “Where are you going?”. 

“I’m just going home!”, you said waving your hands back and forth in a placating manner. “For… a couple of months at least”.

“Y/N. You haven’t been back home since the day we graduated high school”. 

“I know”, you whispered looking at the floor. “I just need time to myself right now. These feelings are all new and I… I know I can’t be a good friend to you right now. Seeing you, being with you it just- hurts. I’m not the best friend you deserve right now”. 

Jisung made a pained noise in the back of his throat and stepped in closer towards you. “I’m not mad at you! You don’t need to leave, if that’s what you’re afraid of”, he said placing his hands on your shoulders. 

“No that’s not it Jisung”, you said gently brushing off his hands. “I just- for me to be a good friend, the one who can support you and the relationship you’ve found yourself in, I need time to get over these feelings. And I know that’s something I can’t do right now. So, I’m going home”. 

Jisung sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. Taking another look at you he seemed to decide that you were being serious and dropped onto your couch in defeat. 

“You’re not… you’re not leaving right?”, he said head hanging down to his knees. “You’re coming back?”.

You gave a half hearted laugh and collapsed next to him. 

“Han Jisung, just because the unfortunate side effects of the human condition cause me to have feelings for you that does not mean that you are ever going to be able to get rid of me”. 

He gave a chuckle in response, still refusing to lift his head up. You tried to ignore the fact that he was sniffling through giggles. For his sake. 

You gently nudged his shoulder with your own. 

“I’ve known you for almost 7 years now. You’re stuck with me for life”. 

He laughed fully this time, trying to subtly wipe at his eyes. “Kylie”, he said tilting his head at you and giving you a watery smile. “What do you think about her?”. 

You gave him your own watery smile in return, “I really like her”, you said. 

And it was the truth.

                                                              ↢ 

Something was off, Jisung thought. In fact, something was off about this entire week. 

His grades we’re up, better than they ever had been, he was dating an amazing girl, he had a steady job so… life is good. 

Life was good, right?

                                                             ↢

“Are you done moping yet?”, Chan said casually sipping at his soda. 

“Moping?”, I asked. “I’m not moping”. 

Chan rolled his eyes throwing another french fry into his mouth. “You clearly are. But, if we’re still in the denial stage that’s fine. We can just talk about… uh”, chan said nibbling at his fry thoughtfully. “Oh!”, he shouted suddenly. “Professor Brewer’s paper! Why don’t we work on it now? What are you doing for the prompt?”. 

I sighed and rested my head on my palm. “I already finished it”, I grumbled twirling my soda straw aimlessly. 

Chan’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “You fucking what?!”, he said choking on his soda. 

“Shit dude are you ok?”, I said patting at his back. He waved me off, spluttering an “I’m ok” back. 

“You WHAT”, he said after regaining his breath. 

I shrank back in my seat. “I er- already finished it?”, I said nervously.

“Han”, Chan deadpanned. “We have 4 days left until that paper is due”. 

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “4 days isn’t that long you know, I have other classes too. Besides, don’t you always finish your assignments the day they're assigned?”. 

He waved me off leaning back in his seat. “Yeah I do, but that’s not the point”. 

“I’m sorry… then what exactly is the point then?”, I asked steadily growing more confused. 

“The point is! You never even bother to look at your assignments until the day they’re due!”, Chan said exasperatedly. 

I eyed him warily. “Why are you getting so worked up about this?”.

“Because!”, he all but shouted. “You’re an idiot!”. 

“Hey!”, I said. “Just because you’re my hyung doesn’t mean you can just call me stupid!”, I huffed crossing my arms at him. “I’ll have you know I have a 3.8 this quarter”. 

“Exactly”, Chan groaned while slowly dragging a hand across his face. 

“What the hell are you on about?”, I said genuinely starting to become annoyed with the conversation. 

“Hannie”, he said sighing. “The only reason you have such good grades this quarter is because you’re not following Y/N around like a lost puppy”. 

My heart panged at the mention of her name. “I don’t know what you're talking about”, I breathed. 

“Yes you do”, he said with a stern look in his eyes. “You have shitty grades every quarter because all you ever want to do is spend time with her. The only reason you get by is because she chews your ass out when she finds out you’ve been slacking”. 

“Nope”, I shook my head adamantly. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a girlfriend, everything’s just fine”.

“Ok the fact that you brought that up when I wasn’t even talking about your girlfriend makes me feel like there’s more to unpack there but… baby steps. We’ll come back to that”

Chan looked at me with an expectant look in his eyes, as if waiting for me to say something. I shrugged helplessly at him, not knowing what he wanted from me. 

He sighed heavily through his nose before apparently giving up on what he’d been waiting for. 

“Hannie…”, he said gently. Chan carefully put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me with sympathetic look in his eyes. “You miss her”. 

I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my ears. “No I don’t”, I said shaking my head at him. 

“Han, you’ve spent nearly every single day with Y/N since you guys we’re 13. You can’t expect me to believe- actually you can’t expect yourself to believe that you don’t miss her”. 

“Not true”, I muttered. “When we were in school she went back in the summers to visit her family”.

“Fine then- you spent everyday with her albeit 2 months out of the year. That’s not even true for the past 3 years! She hasn’t been back these summers, she stayed with you”. 

I sighed heavily, sliding even further down my seat. “What do you want me to do?”, I mumbled miserably. 

“I want you to stop being an idiot and acknowledge that you're upset, and that you have been for the past month”.

“Because Y/N’s gone?”, I asked slowly. 

“Because Y/N’s gone.”, Chan affirmed. 

                                                            ↢

“Jisung?”, you asked incredulously. “How the hell did you get here? Why the hell are you here?”.

Jisung was near hyperventilating at this point, he felt that his lungs might collapse from the sheer stress of the situation. 

Alright, alright. Calm down. Just remember what Chan and Changbin told you in the car ride over this is fine everything’s fine. 

“I broke up with Kylie!”, I blurted out. 

Everything was not fucking fine. 

You crossed your arms and gave him a stern look. “Han Jisung I had to suffer through weeks of you non-stop talking about that girl. You better have not just broken up with her I swear to god-”

“She doesn’t make me cheesecake!”, I shouted cutting off her rant. 

She looked even more confused than when she first realized I was standing in her grandparent’s yard. “Jisung what on earth are you talking about?”, she said. 

What on earth indeed.

“I’m sure if it's really that big of a problem”, she said utterly perplexed. “She could just learn how to make one dude?”. 

“Even if she did, it wouldn’t be your cheesecake!”, I said desperately. 

“...what?”. 

“It wouldn’t be the same as the ones you make me and- she doesn’t stay up with me all night trying to help me figure out rhymes for my lyrics even though you know you can’t rap for shit. And sure, she can skateboard and that’s pretty cool but she’s not the dumbass who thought launching herself off an out of control board was a great idea and face planted in the middle of four way traffic-”. 

“Hey!”, she huffed indignantly. 

I ignored her, continuing to roll right through my rant. 

“And she doesn’t snore like a fucking buzzsaw, which would be so cute if it didn’t sound so god damn concerning. And she doesn’t watch romance movies with me even though you absolutely despise them and-”, I said stopping abruptly. 

“And?”, she asked softly. 

“And I don’t love her”, I breathed feeling the tips of my ears turn red. “Not the way that I love you”. 

“Oh”, she said. 

I laughed at her dumbfounded expression. “It took me 36 days and 2 hyungs to realize I was still in love with you and all you have to say in response is ‘oh’?”. 

She huffed at me in annoyance. “I spilled my guts out to you a month ago, what the hell else do you want?! Some kind of blood oath??”. 

“If that’s what it takes for you to tell me you love me right now then yeah, I think that’s fair”. 

“You should have asked for that a whole fucking month ago!”, she said stamping her foot in annoyance. 

“Hey! You may have had to wait a month but I had to wait 6 whole fucking years before you even acknowledged that you liked me!”. 

“I hate you”. 

“Oh you do? Well I could just- get back in Chan’s car then. Drive back to school”, I teased. 

“Han Jisung I swear to god I will throw this fucking shovel at you”. 

I laughed wholeheartedly, head tilting towards the sky. “Ok ok, I’m sorry. I get it. No leaving allowed, now will you get over here and kiss me already?”. 

“No!” she yelped, turning red. 

“6 years Y/N, I’m a desperate man”. 

“If you don’t shut up I swear to god-”.

[sassyhobbits]

hi julia 💙 tinder au? i have just fallen in love with it

ok yall. here it is. the highly requested and long awaited tinder au. i probably have like 20 messages on my inbox rn asking for this.

anyway, here's day 3 for yall!! enjoy!!

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was the mastermind behind his own misery.

He had been kicking himself for his stupidity for the past week, ever since that godsdamned wedding he had gone to with Aelin. The event had confirmed his suspicions: he liked Aelin Galathynius. A lot.

And it was his own fault that he hadn’t asked her out.

He had been the one to say that they should remain coworkers and nothing more. He had just been so shocked to see the woman he had matched with on Tinder at his place of employment he hadn’t really known what to do. So, he said something foolish.

For a while now, Rowan’s attraction towards Aelin had been growing. It had been easy to ignore at first, brushing it off and contributing it to the fact that she was a pretty woman. But, even in those months where Aelin had enraged him, she still managed to enthrall him. He thought about her smile far too often. About the dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose, the sound of her laugh, the smell of her perfume. Mostly, he thought about the dances that they had shared at that wedding. A small taste of what could have been if Rowan hadn’t been such a rutting idiot.

If he could take back that foolish decision, he would.

Now, his choice haunted him everyday. He would watch Aelin at work, see other men and women give her appreciative looks and flirty smiles, leaving Rowan in a constant state of morbid anticipation, waiting for the day she reciprocated some of that attention and he would be left behind.

Rowan lingered by the personal training desk, knowing he should be planning the workouts for his clients for the week, but his attention was pinned across the gym. Aelin was working today with a new client that he had never seen. He was in his mid-twenties, tall, blonde. Good looking, and obviously very smitten with his trainer. Rowan ground his jaw as the man sent a charming smile to Aelin. He wished her back wasn’t turned towards him so he could have seen how she responded.

“Keep on clenching your jaw like that and you’re going to break a tooth,” a feminine voice said teasingly.

Rowan tore his gaze away from Aelin, finding Lysandra leaning against the desk, ivory cheeks flushed pink from her own workout.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lysandra scoffed and rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. “You may be fooling yourself, Rowan Whitethorn, but you’re sure as hell not fooling me.”

Rowan pressed his lips together tightly, looking back at his clipboard and trying to ignore the woman beside him. However, that wasn’t suitable for Lysandra.

“If you ask her out she’ll say yes,” she said casually.

Rowan scoffed. “She seems perfectly happy with that pretty-boy over there.”

“She’s settling for that pretty boy over there because you aren’t giving her the attention she deserves.”

Rowan sighed and looked back at the woman beside him dryly. Her dark brows were narrowed, lips pinched in annoyance. It was clear she wasn’t happy with him.

“Listen, Rowan,” she continued, “I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I will tell you that if you don’t get your shit together and finally ask Aelin out, she’s going to move on. And you’re going to make yourself extra miserable.”

Rowan didn’t have a response for that, simply holding Lysandra’s gaze more a moment longer before she stomped away towards the locker rooms, leaving him alone at the desk.

Deep down, he knew that she was right. Just watching Aelin conversing and mildly flirting with another man was driving him crazy. He didn’t know how he’d feel if she actually returned one of her many admirers' sentiments. Pissed off, most likely, that he had missed his chance. And that he had no one to blame but himself.

That was likely the thing that had been holding him back for so long. Admitting that he had been wrong. Gods, there was nothing worse. Absolutely nothing.

Rowan didn’t want to admit that he was biding his time, but he was. Waiting for Aelin to be finished with her client so that he could make his move. And potentially suffer a thorough tongue-lashing from the object of his desire. He couldn’t imagine that she would find it amusing that he was coming crawling back after being the one to request the space between them in the first place.

After what felt like an eternity, Aelin and her client finally made their way off the gym floor. They stood not too far away from him, but with the music and the sound of others chatting, he couldn’t really hear what they were saying. He pretended he didn’t notice them, anyway.

Eventually, they said their goodbyes, the man sending Aelin one last flirty smile until he swaggered off in the direction of the locker rooms.

Luckily for him, Rowan didn’t even have to muster up the courage to go up to Aelin. She instead came over to him, leaning over the desk and grabbing her own clipboard. What pissed him off was that she barely even seemed to notice him.

“Hey,” she breathed casually, jotting something down.

“Hello, Galathynius.” Good gods, why did he sound so stiff?

He waited a few more heartbeats, hoping that she would strike up a conversation, but she was terribly focused on whatever it was that she was writing.

Rowan quickly grew tired of waiting.

“Are you going out with that guy?”

Aelin’s pen froze mid stroke, and Rowan’s instincts told him that he had said something wrong, and danger was lurking near. She looked up to him, a wicked tilt to her golden head.

“Would it be a problem if I was?” she drawled.

Rowan ground his jaw, refusing to back down at the fire in her eyes. “Don’t go out with him.”

Aelin blinked once before scoffing. She tossed her clipboard to the side, spreading in legs in what Rowan could only describe as a fighting stance and crossing her arms over her chest. “You cannot be serious right now.”

Rowan stood straighter. “I’m completely serious. Don’t go out with him.”

“You must be smoking something if you think you have any say over who I do or do not go out with.” She pointed a well-manicured finger at him. “Let me remind you that you were the one who said we should just be coworkers.”

“Believe me, I remember.”

“Then what changed your mind so suddenly? Huh?”

“You did, Aelin.”

For once, it didn’t seem that Aelin had a snappy response up her sleeve for this one. Rowan seized the rare moment of silence, taking a deep breath to steel himself before moving closer and continuing.

“Aelin… I really like you,” he began. “I have since we met. Before that, even. I had been so excited to meet you in person after talking that night and then you were here and you were my coworker and I… I reacted stupidly.”

Aelin’s lips were pressed together tightly, a sign that she wouldn’t interrupt until he said what he had to say.

“I was afraid of what might happen if something went wrong,” Rowan admitted. “If we went out and you realized you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, and I had to see you every day at work and be reminded of that. I was a coward because I didn’t want to face that particular torture. But… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And I know that if I never admitted it, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

There were a few moments of painful silence as Aelin considered his words.

“So, what?” Aelin said. “You just expect me to jump into your arms now that you decided you were finally ready to grow a pair and ask me out? You think I was just going to wait for you?”

“No. I know you’d never wait for a man. I know that you’re strong and independent. I’d never expect that from you but…” Rowan reached out slowly, taking her hand into his and giving her fingers a firm squeeze. “I hope that you’ll be able to forgive my stupidity and let me take you out on a real date soon.”

For a few, too long heartbeats, Aelin stared down at where he held her hand. Rowan had never felt more nervous than he had in that moment. It was maddening.

But, she eventually tilted her head up, and her face had softened, a smile on those full lips of hers. She gave his hand a squeeze.

“Gods, I thought you would never ask.”

It was Rowan’s turn to smile, beaming at the woman before him. “So, that’s a yes?”

She nodded once. “It is. You can pick me up at eight tonight. I expect something nice, I want to dress up.”

“I look forward to it.”

Aelin laughed, a beautiful sound, before she closed the distance between them and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek, thoroughly stunning him as she slipped away, smiling at him the entire time.

“And don’t forget the flowers,” she called, striding across the gym. “Kingsflame are my favorite.”

“Noted.”

Aelin held his gaze for another wonderful moment before she turned, striding over to meet with a woman he recognized as one of her regular clients. Once he was sure she was no longer watching, he brushed his fingers over the spot where she had kissed him which still burned pleasantly.

He would make sure everything went perfectly tonight. There was no way in hell that he would mess it up and ruin his chance with this amazing woman. Aelin was unlike anyone he had ever met before.

He knew one thing for sure. Aelin Galathynius was the one for him.

[chicksung]

Can’t You See Me? || Choi Chanhee

part of @ficscafe fic exchange event!

Genre: angst, little bit of fluff, ghost!au

Pairing: ghost!chanhee x reader (ft. younghoon)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: death, depictions of depression, dealing with death, mentions of a car accident

Synopsis: You loved Chanhee, with your whole being. You didn’t what you would do without him. However, it seems like life intended for you to be without him for the rest of your days

A/N: this fic is for rani @letteredwings please enjoy lovely. sorry that it’s a little late :/ this is unedited. please ignore any mistakes

any and all feedback is appreciated

Choi Chanhee promised you that he would love you until the day he would inevitably stop breathing and cease to exist. You always laughed off the comment, thinking it was just a stupid saying he would be saying into old age. You wished you had taken it as a sign, maybe you would’ve been more cautious, maybe this whole situation could’ve been avoided. What you didn’t know is that he had died a liar when he said those ridiculous words. He loved you after he passed too.

Chanhee stood helplessly in the kitchen, watching you stand there with an aching heart. You were wide eyed, shocked and frozen from the news.

“I’m…sorry?” You stammered, hoping, praying, that your ears were deceiving you with mean elementary school tricks.

“Is your partner Choi Chanhee?” The man’s voice seemed down, like he was scared to tell you again.

“Yes, he is. We’ve been together since high school,” You informed him, trying to push down the sickening churning in your stomach.

“I regret to inform you that your partner has passed away. We received a call this morning of an accident. A truck had collided with a car. The truck driver seemed to be okay, but your partner’s injuries seemed to be more serious.” Every word pricked your heart, which was as fragile as a balloon being poked with a needle, “We tried everything, but he eventually passed away. I’m very sorry for your loss.” You nodded, your chest tightened painfully, your vision blurry from the tears in your eyes. 

“Alright, thank you for letting me know. Have a good afternoon, sir,” You signed off, trying to keep your voice from cracking.

“You too, and again, I’m sorry for your loss,” The line went dead and you placed the phone on the kitchen counter. Chanhee? Dead? No, he can’t be. He had specifically said he would be careful on the road. Tears slipped down your cheeks like sweet raindrops, your knees pathetically giving out as you wailed, yelling out obscenities and curses. Chanhee ran behind you.

“No, I’m right here! Can’t you see-” He went to place his hand on your shoulder when he realised how pale, almost transparent, he was. He sat beside you on the floor, a million thoughts passing through his mind. He couldn’t comfort you, only able to listen to you cry his name in a desperate plea to bring him back to you. Chanhee’s heartstrings tugged harshly, but he was helpless. He was nothing but a memory now, a missing part of your shared apartment, a ghost. 

You stood amongst crowds of familiar faces, his friends, family, distant relatives, colleagues, the list goes on. Who they were didn’t really matter to you, what mattered was the casket being carried away from the church doors and out into the miserable weather. Fitting, you supposed, that it was pouring with rain on the day of his funeral. Attendees moved outside, umbrellas creating a dismal cloud of sorrow above them. It had been two weeks since Chanhee had passed away now, but for some reason you could not bring yourself to cry. No matter how many times you felt his absence, not even after looking in his open casket, no tear stung your eye. You watched emotionlessly as his coffin was slowly dropped into the rectangular hole just beneath his headstone. 

                    Here lies Choi Chanhee

                Loving son, brother and friend

                 April 26 1998 - August 17 2021

                   Until we meet again, my love

You felt a hand slide across your shoulder comfortingly, Chanhee’s best friend, Younghoon’s. You didn’t react, didn’t flinch, didn’t move. You remained stone cold and kept your face void of expression. A different feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Irritation? Anxiety? Frustration? It was hard to describe, which typically meant it was complicated, and you didn’t really like complicated feelings. You could sense a storm coming, and judging from the storm clouds of emotion in your mind, it didn’t look like it would be clearing up any time soon.

A distance away from the gathering of mourners, a pale figure stood solemnly. Sure, watching his own funeral felt weird, but Chanhee could only think of you, and how you stood there, in a similar way to him, unable to display your emotions. He wished for one second, just one, that he could understand what you were thinking, feeling, praying. Maybe there would be a way to ease the pain you felt in your heart? He was technically responsible for said pain, so shouldn’t he try and fix it?

Younghoon had been coming over more, Chanhee would notice when he would be sitting on the foot of your bed, which you had not made the effort to get out of. Everyday, the time you would eventually get up would be pushed back. Before, it was only an hour later, then it was two, then three, then four, until one day, he noticed that you only got up to go to the toilet. He would listen to you cry, sniffle, send the occasional text to someone. Younghoon had seemed to notice, so had made it routine that he would come over at exactly 1:09pm every day to help you get out of bed and try to create a productive day together. Chanhee had memorised the sound of Younghoon’s footsteps, the sound of his keys jingling in the door’s lock, the way he would hum as he made his way to the bedroom. Younghoon had become the life inside of the dead quiet house. Chanhee noticed the way that his best friend would look at you, the sad sigh that would escape his lips when he saw you, sprawled out and weeping. 

“Come on. You can’t keep moping in here,” Younghoon sauntered over to your bedside, crouching down to get a better view of your face.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. Go away,” you hissed, pulling the covers over your head, childishly pretending that if you couldn’t see him, he would simply fade from existence. 

“Bubba,” he called out sweetly, tugging the covers out of your grasps, “you’re running low on food. I don’t want you going hungry, and besides, it’s a nice day outside. Whaddya say?” With a low groan, you slowly rose from the safety of your sheets, loose hairs sticking up in wild directions. Chanhee rushed to your side, his cold touch to your cheek sending a cold shiver down your spine. He sighed somewhat sadly as he watched Younghoon help you out of bed. It should be him helping you out of bed every morning, it should be him trying to motivate you with small activities. However, deep down he knew that if it were him, you wouldn’t even be struggling to get out of bed in the morning. He was the cause of your lack of motivation, he was the cause of your pain, your suffering. Every emotion you were feeling right now was because of him, and somehow, in some way, he wished he was still there. He wished he was Younghoon.

“Where’s Uncle Chanhee?” Your young nephew looked up at you with big eyes, confusedly looking around to find his favourite uncle. You sighed softly. You knew you would have to have this discussion with him sooner or later. 

“Uncle Chanhee...isn’t going to be coming today,” you explained, kneeling down to the four year old’s level. Chanwoo’s bottom lip quivered slightly, “Why not?” He asked with glossy eyes. He had been really looking forward to playing with Uncle Chanhee, and couldn’t understand why he didn’t wanna play with him. You knew Chanwoo was too young to understand death, but he had seemingly noticed Chanhee’s absence. You chewed the inside of your cheek, trying to think of some sort of acceptable lie to tell a child. 

“He’s not well today. He says he really wish he could play today, but he had to stay home,” You pet the boy’s head softly, hoping he would understand. The little boy nodded, seeming to understand.

“Can I make Uncle Chanhee a get well soon card?” He asked with wonder in his eyes, and you would have to be a monster to have said no.

“Of course, Woo. Go get your craft things.”

You helped your nephew decorate his ‘card’ which was really just a folded sheet of printer paper, but you weren’t about to rain on his innocent parade. 

“I’m still sad that I can’t play with Uncle Chanhee. I wish he was here,” Chanwoo admitted, writing a sweet message in lopsided messy handwriting. 

“Just because he’s not here in person, doesn’t mean he’s not here in spirit,” you explained, drawing a sun in the corner of the card for the youngster to colour in. 

“What do you mean?”

“It's kind of like magic,” you pondered aloud, “like a hug you can feel from someone who is not there.” The child nodded.

“Yeah! Like it still feels like mommy is hugging me even when she’s not there,” it was your turn to nod. 

“Exactly, Woo! You’re such a clever boy,” you ruffled his soft hair, making him giggle uncontrollably.

You were right, in a way. Chanhee was there, as a literal spirit. He felt a warm surge crash over his pale body, knowing that Chanwoo wanted to make him a card without fully understanding what was going on. A child too sweet for this world. However, it wasn’t Chanwoo he was focusing on. It was you. You weren’t crying, you weren’t wailing his name in agony. You seemed peaceful, collected, like you were watching the sunset over the sea. You were starting to come to terms with no longer having your boyfriend there. Sure, it pained you every morning to roll over and say good morning to someone who never even got into bed that night, but it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. He was unsure how long you would stay in this peaceful mindframe, but only the best storyteller will tell, time.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Younghoon asked softly, eyes just as gentle as his words. You nodded, confident in your decision. You were a little unsure when you first brought up the idea to him, but it had to be done. The both of you walked up the hill in the cemetery, hands intertwined. You two had been dating for some time now, but you always had this lingering feeling that Chanhee wouldn’t like what you were doing. You loved Chanhee dearly, but you felt the same about Younghoon. It had been almost seven months since you received that phone call, but slowly everything in your life was piecing itself back together, formerly shattered after the tsunami of emotions that wiped out everything that made you feel human. You stood at the face of his gravestone, his name etched prettily into the cool rock. 

“Hey,” you greeted, your hand slipping out of your boyfriend’s. Chanhee displayed an invisible smile.

Hey.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence felt awkward and heavy on your tongue. 

It has. How have you been?

“I’ve been doing well. Just trying to get by, you get it.”

Yeah, I get it. Is that Younghoon?

“I was getting to that. I’m not sure how it happened, but it did. He helped me a lot after you passed. I owe him a lot. Mainly ice cream,” You laughed at yourself, partially because of your bad joke, and partially because of how ridiculous you must sound to anyone passing by.

You’re dating now?

“Yeah. I just...I wanted to say thank you,” you blurted, playing with the tips of your fingers.

Why are you thanking me?

“You taught me a lot, Chanhee. How to cook ramen properly, how to make the best oven baked pizza anyone has ever had, but most of all, you taught me how to love. And while I love you so much, my god, you can’t even believe to comprehend it, I’ve found someone else that I love,” You felt tears spring to your eyes. You were the only one talking, so why did it sound like you were saying goodbye? You glanced at Younghoon, who only smiled weakly. 

“Can I say a few words?” Younghoon stepped forward, placing his hand on your shoulder, the same way he had done the dismal day of Chanhee’s funeral. You nodded wordlessly, watching your boyfriend stride towards the grave of his best friend. Younghoon traced the etched marks of his friend’s name before giving a small smile.

“You’ve been gone too long,” he started, giving a sad chuckle, “and a lot has happened during that time.” Chanhee laughed silently at his friend’s words, slumping against the cold headboard of his resting place.

“But I will promise you this. I will look after them for you. I will care for, and nurture and love them for you. It’s what best friends are for, right?”

Chanhee nodded, a friendly smile finally adorning his features. He felt something new, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, peace. His body felt as light as a feather, as if it was drifting through the breeze. He dropped his gaze to his hands, only to see that the aforementioned body part wasn’t there. He was fading, an experience he had thought about many times before, but somehow, it wasn’t as scary as he thought it would be. Chanhee looked to you, and he could’ve sworn that for a moment, just one moment, you could see him, slowly dematerialising out of existence. He wasn’t scared anymore, scared of how you would cope without him. You had Younghoon, the only person other than you that he trusted his life with. 

“Until we meet again, my love,” Chanhee bade his final farewell to this world, taking a small bow and with a slight change in the wind’s direction, he was gone. 

You felt light, like the weight of an entire urbanised city had been lifted off your shoulders. Younghoon took his place by your side once more.

“Should we go home?” He suggested, earning a relaxed smile from you.

“Yeah. Besides, it’ll be dark soon,” you squeezed his hand, your eyes glowing in the reddened flare of the sunset. Hand in hand, you walked down the stone path and out of the overly large rusted gate. It was never easy letting go, not by any stretch of the imagination. You would always carry a piece of Chanhee with you, and even without him by your side, you felt closer to him than ever.

[dangermousie]

2020 End of Year Post - kdrama edition

You can find my 2020 cdrama post here: dangermousie.tumblr.com/post/638449659546845184/2020-end-of-year-post-cdrama-edition

This is only going to cover kdramas that aired in 2020; if it originally aired another year, it’s not on this list.

It’s been a pretty lackluster kdrama year. There are probably only 5 kdramas I truly loved and only three of them I was really obsessed over. Better luck in 2021!

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

42 Born Again - so bad, so incoherent, so insane, I have no idea why the leads signed up for it (and unlike some of the other watchers, I think it was awful from the very start.) There is literally nothing about this drama that makes sense.

41 Love with Flaws - a bunch of people who should be tried under the Geneva Convention.

40 Sweet Munchies - Jung Il Woo proves his inability to pick a functional script.

39 Meow the Secret Boy - if you ever wanted to bang a cat, this drama is for you. Not being a furry, however...

38 Do Do Sol Sol La Sol - I lost braincells just typing out this title.

37 When I Was the Most Beautiful - the only way it’s not the dumbest, most pointless melo of 2020 is because Born Again considerately came out the same year.

36 Woman of 9.9 Billion - if you want to watch an artsy French movie about miserable people, but only badly made, boy do I have a drama for you.

35 Lies after Lies - screams after screams.

34 Backstreet Rookie - people were up in arms about various problematic plots. I am a survivor of many plots much more problematic but even I couldn’t survive how utterly boring and annoying this drama was and how utterly irritating the leads were. This has taken Ji Chang Wook off my top favorites into “should I even check his latest Lovestruck in the City? Probably not” territory almost single-handedly (Melt Me helped, to be fair.)

33 Men Are Men - boring is boring.

32 Dinner Mate - two beautiful boring people eat out a lot.

31 Was It Love - no it wasn’t.

30 Alice - Joo Won in the shower can make up for a multitude of sins but not plot nonsense of such magnitude. When you find yourself thinking it would be better if he hooked up with the alternate universe version of his mother because at least then something entertaining would happen, you know it’s bad.

29 More than Friends - started out OK, then made me hate basically everyone and kept going.

28 Start-Up - honestly, it’s probably more decent than its place here, but the toxic and batshit fandom for it (the worst this year) made me feel like breaking out in hives any time it’s even mentioned.

27 The Spies who Loved Me - how to take a good cast and waste it.

26 Private Lives - it was good but it never took off with its concept and spent more time on the incoherent plot than the OTP which was its one strength. It’s a decent drama but coming after Heartless City and My Beautiful Bride from the same writer, it’s a disappointment.

25 Record of Youth - as high as it is due to Park Bo Gum hard carrying this entire awful drama on his shoulders and doing it so well I finished it. Alas, while he is in one drama (and that drama is great), the rest of the characters and the entirety of the script are a pointless useless mess.

24 Do You Like Brahms - excellent first third, mediocre middle, and terrible last third. I don’t know what musical term applies to this? Diminuendo, I think.

23 I’ll Go to You When the Weather is Nice - nice and mellow but nothing much happens.

22 Forest - mainly for Park Hae Jin’s excellent and frequently naked bod.

21 The Ballot - I didn’t love it as much as everyone did but it was well-made.

20 Hyena - more romance and less weird law stuff would make it better.

19 365 Repeat the Year - surprisingly solid.

18 The Game Towards Zero - see 365.

17 When My Love Blooms - very old fashioned, very lovely.

16 Chocolate - also very old fashioned and very lovely but also with Yoon Kye Sang performing medical procedures bleeding and shirtless. MMM.

15 (tie) Secret Royal Inspector - a fun if run of the mill sageuk.

15 Find Me In Your Memory - best melo this year.

14 Mystic Pop Up Bar - surprisingly good even though I wasn’t planning to check it out.

13 Where Your Eyes Linger - came out of nowhere but was tender and hopeful and lovely.

12 Itaewon Class - Park Seo Joon hard carries a drama that is already excellent. Love it.

11 Psychopath Diary - Yoon Shi Yoon is such a treat in a hilarious, cynical, dark comedy.

10 Kairos - more like ouroboros.

9 Queen Love and War - in a year where sageuks are very rare, this was solid and surprisingly moving and shippy.

8 The King Eternal Monarch - people didn’t like it but I did. It’s no masterpiece and both the leads and the writers have better dramas, but it was a lovely romantic fairy tale for me.

7 Mr. Queen - sharp, hilarious, and some of my favorite actors.

6 Psycho But It’s OK - healing, sharp cinematography and even sharper chemistry.

5 Crash Landing on You - the last ep pissed me off so much this drama is dead to me but I loved it so much until then I can’t place it lower in good conscience.

4 Train - who knew I would go this hard for an OCN drama or that OCN would do romance so well? But this time-travel mystery romance is just incredible and I shipped the OTP and rooted for the characters and loved every last bit of it.

3 Run On - this is the drama Record of Youth wanted to be but failed. Smart and lived in, you feel like you are peeking at real people, but also even four episodes in, I am so invested in the main characters separately and together, and care for them so much, it’s a little frightening.

1 (tie) Tale of the Nine Tailed - my perfect fantasy romance. I liked it better than Goblin, yeah I said it.

1 Flower of Evil - all the tropes I love in one incredible package. I would rewatch episodes waiting for new ones trying to puzzle the story and to stay withdrawal but it works just as well on rewatch. Lee Jun Ki brings his trademark tortured intensity and for once, both his leading lady and his script back him up and are worthy of that. It’s perfect.

FAVORITE DRAMA

It’s a tie between Tale of the Nine Tailed and Flower of Evil but if I had to pick just one, FoE, because it had me seriously obsessed and guessing about the protagonist and gave me the narrative tropes I love so much and an OTP that statisfied all my hurt/comfort kinks and then some.

WORST DRAMA

Born Again - honestly, this is so bonkers it almost becomes good but alas...

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Do Hyun Soo/Baek Hee Sung, Flower of Evil - he is so messed up, so on edge, so traumatized. Yet capable of so much warmth and caring even as he himself doesn’t realize his humanity. FoE is basically a story of a man pushed and punished by the world for his entire life who, because of one woman, finds a safe place and peace and slowly comes to life without realizing it, and watching his desperation to keep this small bit of normalcy is so heartbreaking and exciting all at once. Plus, you start the drama thinking he’s a psychopathic serial killer and end it (if you are me) thinking he must be protected at all costs and if anyone even looks at him wrong they must suffer, and that’s quite a change!

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Nam Ji Ah, Tale of the Nine Tailed - she is so funny and tough and smart and loving and amazing that I will totally buy that a literal demi-god will do anything and everything for her and love her for literal eternity.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Dad in Record of Youth - yes in a year with serial killers and supernatural demons, I picked a normal character from a mediocre drama. It’s his everyday awfulness to his family that hits so hard and I am sad he never got his comeuppance.

FAVORITE SHIP

Ji Ah x Yeon - a fearless reporter and an immortal demi-god who’s been hoping for his human beloved to reincarnate. A really rare set-up where the OTP is equally ride or die, so compatible and completely BAMF. I got why he waited for her for that long and then fell in love with her all over again. Perfection.

Runner up: Flower of Evil - he is so messed up he literally does not believe he is capable of love or empathy, but he falls in love with her anyway and so utterly she permeates his entire life. She is tough as nails and only believes what she sees and is the sole person who believes in him against the world. She loves him but he needs her. She needs him but he loves her. They are amazing.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Seo Dan x Gu Seung Jun, Crash Landing on You, North Korean x Conman were so good I shipped them harder than the main OTP and the end of that storyline pissed me off so much I dumped the drama and didn’t finish it for months (and it’s still dead to me.)

NOTP

Record of Youth - it started out and they didn’t have much chemistry but the dialogues were interesting and I thought the chemistry would grow. It didn’t and deteriorated, their dialogues became boring and relationship had zero development (about as much as the supposed female lead.) I think we were supposed to feel bad they broke up and they were going for a bittersweet open ending, instead I found myself happy about the break up of two incompatible, chemistry-less people and hoping for the love of God they never get back together.

FAVORITE SCENE

Yeon and the bridge of knives, Tale of the Nine Tailed - Yeon choosing to undergo the creeptastic bridge of knives for a chance to save Ji Ah, who at that point he is not aware is the reincarnation of his Joseon love because, as he says, he doesn’t care if she is or isn’t, it just would be more horrible to have her die than to undergo the horrific torture he is undergoing, and then the sequence with his catching her, her weeping over him and the fact that she is the original Joseon girl revealed and all the bandaging and his watching her sleep and all that loveliness, is everything for yours truly.

Runner up: Hyun Soo having that break-down at the cliff at the end of ep 15 of Flower of Evil as Ji Won desperately tries to convince him she is alive and he finally stumbles to her.

Runner runner up (it’s my list, I will do what I want): Do Won preparing to blow his brains out to give a chance to Seo Kyung to live in Train.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Seon-Gyeom, Run On. Yeah, I know. Im Siwan is tiny, delicate featured and has a runner’s build, none of which are things that normally appeal to me. But his character is so odd, so honest, so unflinching in pursuing what he thinks is right, so incapable of self-pity despite plenty of reasons for it, and so ridiculously attractive when he smiles, I don’t even care.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Kim Bum, TotNT - I started out being annoyed by him and ended up looking forward to his scenes and being distraught by his ending.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

Honestly, none. I was fine with all the endings. I wouldn’t mind seeing post-end life of Tale of the Nine Tailed characters or the OTP settling into their literal new world in Train, but I am good.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Time jump that solves all the problems off screen or alternatively years pass and everyone is frozen - something that kdramas need to learn and need to learn badly. See Record of Youth, Brahms and Start Up.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Men who are ride or die for their OTP - this was a great year for this - the male leads of four of my five dramas were beyond anything on that scale (only exception is Run On because it’s still too early to tell there.) Yes PLEASE.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

This was a banner year for that what with Start Up, Do You Like Brahms, Record of Youth, and Private Lives all starting out well and nosediving off the cliff but winner is Crash Landing on You. I loved it so much for bulk of its run but the last episode pissed me off so much I deleted all my files and called it a day.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

Flower of Evil - I had no expectations of this drama and wasn’t even planning on watching it despite liking both the lead actors because yet another “look at evil serial killer be evil” drama with no romance was not my thing. Luckily someone convinced me there might be some romance and I peeked curiously. Honestly, their promo campaign was the most misleading and dumbest thing ever.

Runner up Psycho but it’s OK - I have never liked Kim Soo Hyun in anything before and the drama premise seemed WTF but it was shockingly good and KSH totally blew me away.

Hardest Working Lead

Yoon Shi Yoon - he starred in two (!!!) dramas in 2020 playing three characters and not only were both these dramas awesome in a lackluster year, but if it wasn’t for the fact that I knew it was the same actor and the fact that the characters shared a face, I would have never believed that they were played by the same actor. So good!

2020 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

None. Covid Year gave me PLENTY of time

BEST NON-2020 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2020

My Beautiful Bride and Deserving of the Name - I was obsessed with both of them and honestly, they were much better than the bulk of 2020 kdramas I watched.

MOST ANTICIPATED IN 2021

The Moon That Rises in the Day, Hong Chun Gi, Joseon Exorcist, Island,  Frightening Cohabitation, Snowdrop.

[hollanderfangirl]

Let me go |Harry Holland|

Pairing: Harry Holland x Therapist! Reader

A/N: so I'm not a therapist and I've never been to therapy, well if you don't consider the sessions with my psychology teacher. All of what I've written comes from what I've learnt in psychology class, reading books and listening to other people's experiences.

Warnings: talk about death, panic attack and it's just really sad

Word count: 3.3k, this is my longest fic yet :)

(Sorry for the shitty moodboard I just had to post this fic or I would have lost my mind)

Harry Holland walked through the halls of the clinic, not really sure why he was here. Well he knew why he had come to see a therapist but he wondered how he put himself in this situation. He had been locking himself inside a glass cave built out of hopelessness for months, his friends and family were greatly concerned about him but he refused to take any help. He had always been stubborn, he never asked for anybody's help. He hated the look of pity on people's faces. He hated people showing him sympathy. He was more than this. He didn't need anybody. He can pull himself together, he just needed time.

But it wasn't helping. Burying your feelings in has never helped anybody. Putting on a smile everyday in front of people and crying himself to sleep, Harry found it more and more difficult. His mum had sensed it and told him to go and see a doctor. He had resisted it at first. 

"Please do it for me, Harry. I cannot see you like this, at least for my satisfaction," Nikki had said. "Just go for a trial session and if you like it then you can continue," but of course he wasn't going to continue. 

Now as he stood in front of the receptionist, he was reconsidering his decision. 

"Yes, do you have an appointment, sir?" 

"Huh?" he seemed lost. "Yeah..yeah" 

"Just wait here, I'll inform Dr Y/l/n" 

"Your know what, cancel the appointment. I- I don't need help" 

"Oh but this is just a trial, Mr Holland" 

"Yeah but I don't-" the receptionist was already at the door, muttering something to the woman inside. 

You step outside to see a curly headed man, he looked pleasant but his eyes looked sad. Those were the eyes of a person who had seen immense grief, someone who had been miserable for a long long time. 

"I'm sorry but I don't need therapy… I didn't realise this before, I -I shouldn't have come here" 

"Oh Mr Holland, this is just a trial right? Let's just have some coffee. This isn't therapy yet" you smile at him. 

"No I really-" 

"Okay then, give me half an hour. If you still feel the same way, then you can leave. Half an hour is all I want from you, Mr Holland" 

"Alright" 

You lead him into your chamber, closing the door behind you. He sits down on a couch across from you, your desk separating you both. The first step of therapy- resistance. People always resist therapy at first, they feel like they don't need the help or maybe seeking help makes them weak. They don't feel like opening up to a complete stranger. How can they? How can they open up their most vulnerable state to a person who they barely know? But slowly and steadily, a rapport is made. A therapist has to be very careful and empathetic. They have to be trusting. Someone who people can turn to. Someone who they can relate to. Someone who understands them. Someone who would just listen. 

"So, your mother sent you here. Right, Mr Holland?" 

"Just- just call me Harry" 

"Okay then Harry, tell me" 

"What do you want me to tell you?" 

"Everything. Start from the beginning" 

"Well I- do you… do you really think I would-" he hesitates. "Who do you think you are? Why do you think I should pay you to listen to my goddamn life story here?" 

"You're not here to tell me your life story," you say politely. "I'm here to help you and I can do that only if you would let me" 

"Well guess what? You cannot help me, I knew I was wasting my time," he gets up and starts to walk away. 

"I asked for half an hour of your time, Harry" 

"Well I don't fucking care" 

"Harry, please listen to me. All I ask is half an hour" 

Little did he know, this half an hour was going to change his life. 

Something about your tone made him stay. He sat back down on the couch, turning away from you. 

"Okay, so if you're not going to talk, I will," you sigh. "So, you have suffered a great loss, someone you loved dearly?" 

"Yes," he still didn't look you in the eye. 

"Who was it?" 

"My…my friend. Girlfriend" 

"And when did this happen?" 

"A year ago" 

"How have you been holding up?" 

He thought of giving another vague answer. How the fuck do you think I'm holding up? I'm fucking dying every single day. 

"Uh- it's been a little better, I guess. It's not as bad as it used to be" 

"Well that's a start. And do you still think about her?" 

Every goddamn minute, lady. What do you want from me? "Yeah sometimes" 

"And how have you been sleeping?" 

I can't sleep. I haven't slept properly for months. If I sleep I see her coming back to me. "Alright I guess" 

This wasn't going anywhere. You thought of recommending him another doctor but something about him charmed you. He was a man who should have been living a great life but his grief was tearing him apart. You had to help him. You felt a strong connection to him, you felt determined. No, I have to help him. I just have to.

"Harry, do you feel like you're responsible for your girlfriend's death?" it was a straightforward question, you had been trying to get something out of him but he wasn't ready to. 

He looked at you dead in the eye, yet could not get any words out. You could sense the anger building up inside him but it wasn't projected at you, he was angry with himself. 

"I….. " he took a few deep breaths, clenching his hands into fists. "Yes" 

"Why is that so?" 

"Fucking hell! Are you for real? She died, okay? And I wasn't there… I wasn't there.. " he was tearing up. "I should have been the one to die! Not her! Not anybody! Everyone just leaves me in the end!" he was full on shouting, letting out everything he had been holding inside himself for a whole year. He had tears in his eyes.

You handed him a box of tissues and he was gasping for breath. When he had calmed down, you both sat in silence for a few minutes. 

"You know, Harry, my friend died the day we had a fight. She was my best friend. I knew her ever since we were three. It was a silly argument. We should not have fought about it. But we did and I told her I wished she would just go away… and then she did" it was painful for you to remember this, but time does heal everything. 

"I'm sorry," his voice was low. "And I'm sorry for all those things I said" 

"No it's alright, that's what you're here for. And besides, it's nothing compared to your loss, Harry" 

"No. It- it's not a competition. Suffering is not a competition. It must've been really hard for you, Dr y/l/n," this was the first time he had addressed you. 

"Call me y/n," you smile at him. "And yeah that's very true. We often blame ourselves, you know, it's very common. We cannot be angry at them so we get angry with ourselves. Even though we know deep in our hearts that there was nothing we could have done" 

There was a long silence. 

"She went out for a drive, that bastard drunk driver," he spoke up. "And I was just resting. She asked me so many times to join her but I wanted to sleep" 

You nod at him and he continued. "That's…the reason I'm not able to sleep. Every night I close my eyes, I think I'll wake up to that phone call" 

"Well yes I don't blame you, our brains sometimes don't process things that come as a shock. And then it just keeps on haunting us forever. Do you believe in life after death, Harry?" 

"Well I don't know what to believe" 

"Have you- felt her? After she was gone?" 

"You'll think I'm crazy" 

"I'm a therapist, it'll take you much more than that to convince me you're crazy" 

"I sometimes talk to her. Like what would she think about this particular situation. Or just that I miss her so much. I don't get any responses but I just try to think like her?" 

"Yeah, that's quite normal actually. People think they need to 'get over' someone's death. But that's not true. You can never really get over something like death" 

"And what does getting over even mean? Like you just forget them? Moving on with your life just means that you think they were never a part of it" 

"Well you're both right and wrong. Yes we must remember our loved ones who are not with us anymore but at the same time, we have to let them go" 

"How? It's too painful" 

"I know. But do you believe in the concept of souls, Harry?" 

"Yeah I mean," he shrugs. 

"The soul is considered to be immortal. And groups of souls tend to travel together. Even if you don't know it, some way, somehow, they're always with us" 

He says nothing but his eyes looked softer now. 

"And just think about it, think of her seeing you like this. Do you think she could have handled you being so miserable?" 

"She would have been heartbroken" 

"Exactly. So do it for her, for yourself. For both of you to feel peace again" 

"Yeah" 

You look at your watch. Half an hour was up. 

"So, Harry. Your half an hour is up. Is there anything else?" 

"Yes, um we can talk about it in our next session?" 

You smile at him. "Of course" 

                          ----------------

After that one half an hour session, Harry was a changed man. He was still mourning, he was still miserable but he had hope. For the first time in a long time, he thought he could actually go on with his life, he could finally feel peace.

The week went by smoothly. Harry tried to make himself busy, by surrounding himself with people and always working. He was still getting nightmares but he was determined to sleep. He was sleeping light, afraid of what deep sleep might show him.

Meanwhile your life was exactly the same, you went on with your day treating people, talking, helping them. You loved your job, you loved the sense of satisfaction you got after patients they told you they were finally better. Every person was a challenge, and you knew there was a gem hidden inside every one of them. All of them had immense potential but life hadn't been kind to them. You felt disturbed and it broke your heart to see people hurting. And you would do anything to make it better for them. To help them.

You couldn’t keep Harry out of your mind. You were thinking about him all day long, awaiting your next session with him. What if he cancels? What can I do if he does? Why am I thinking about him? He had this air around him, a magnetic pull, which was pulling your closer and closer towards him. And why is he so damn attractive? No I should not think about him that way. It was the first and foremost rule of your profession. Never get emotionally attached with your clients. It was a professional relationship and must remain that way.

When he came into your office the following week, you could sense the change in him. You felt proud that a single session made such a difference. There was no arrogance in him, he didn’t seem angry anymore. He was calm and better.

“So, Harry. How was your week?”

“It was good, I’ve been shooting my new short film and it’s coming out to be okay so far”

“Alright and how have you been sleeping?”

“Not that good to be honest. I still get dreams, uh bad dreams”

“What do you see in these dreams?”

“I see the accident scene….again and again, it’s the same dream. Sometimes I see her, she talks to me and all that”

“Hmm and have you talked to your family? Your friends?”

“Yeah I talked to my mum…and my brother”

“What did they say?”

“They said they are here for me and will always love me”

“Yes and I don’t doubt that, Harry. You have a lot of people in your life who love and support you. Embrace that”

The session went by smoothly, he opened up to you about his life, everything about the girl he loved so much. About his family, his career. You found yourself staring at him, taking glances at his hands which he constantly moved while he talked. You noticed he was shaking his leg the whole time. Stop staring, y/n.

Wow she’s so beautiful. And thoughtful. And funny and understanding. What am I doing? She’s my therapist….but…why couldn’t I have met her before? Why didn’t I meet her when I was normal? Would things have been different? But then again, I would have never met her if I was normal.

Things seemed to get better, as the weeks progressed, Harry was becoming more and more like his old self again. But there was a feeling of regret, he thought this was wrong as if he were forgetting her. But you were there to guide him, to tell him that this is what life is. It never stops. No matter what happens, you will heal. Someday, sometime. And each day we progress towards it.

And then it happened. The call came at 1 am in the morning. You were sleeping and you were tired, you had been working all day and just needed some rest. You wouldn't have picked the call up but something told you it was important. That you should pick it up.

“Hello?” you yawn.

You just hear muffled breathing for a few seconds.

“Hello? Who is it?”

“It…it’s me…Harry”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” you thought what could have happened at this time of the night.

“I just- can you-” he sounded like he was choking.

“Harry what’s wrong, you’re scaring me”

“I… can’t… breathe,” you hear him sobbing. ”I had… that… dream, I feel like I’m…going to…die”

“Harry, listen to me. You will be okay. Yeah? Just take deep breaths and sit tight. I’m coming to you”

You search through his file to look for his address. When you find it, you rush through the front door and drive to his house. You were on the phone with him the whole drive.

“Just keep breathing, Harry. Deep breaths, okay?”

To your surprise, the front door was unlocked. It looked like he had gone out into the street in the middle of the night. You search through rooms to find him, and you see him curled into a ball at the corner of a king size bed. You touch his shoulder and he flinches.

“Hey, hey it’s just me. It’s alright”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” he was crying, with the tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes looked small and they looked red from the lack of sleep and of tears.

“It’s alright, Harry. Just come here, it’ll be alright,” you pull him towards yourself him and he buries his face into your chest and you held him, stroking his hair and telling him it will be alright.

“That’s it. Let it out, Harry. It’s okay to cry”

You both stayed like that for another 15 minutes. He couldn’t stop crying and you knew he needed that. He had been holding everything in for so long and it just came out like an explosion tonight. You wiped his tears and made him meditate for a few minutes.

He fell asleep and you stayed up all night, looking at him. He looked so innocent while he slept, and cute too, you thought hiding a blush, even though nobody was there to look at you.

That night, Harry finally felt at peace. He was finally able to sleep. He had no nightmares, just a peaceful dream. He saw his girlfriend, running away from him in a white dress with her hair flowing in the wind.

Please don’t leave me, darling. I love you.

I know you do Harry, but you must let me go. I will always be with you. I will always love you. It is time you start caring about yourself, you must let me go. It is time.

No! don’t leave me!

And he woke up. Something about this dream told him that she was right. It was time. He was finally ready to let her go. For both of their sakes.

He went down to find you sleeping on the couch. He was hesitant at his thoughts but deep down he knew he was falling for you. Am I just using her to cope with my loss? Or do I really love her?

You opened your eyes, looking at Harry sitting on the ground, pushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Good morning, how did you sleep?”

“Better. Really really better. I- I don’t know how to thank you, y/n and I’m so sorry”

“Hey it’s alright, and I’m glad I could help,” you smile. “I should go now, I have to get to work”

“Let me make breakfast and let me drive you to your house”

“Oh no it’s okay I can-”

“I owe this much to you, y/n. Let me”

“Okay”

                              -----------------

It wasn’t until another week when Harry had his next session. You had been thinking about him all the time, you were confused, it wasn’t supposed to go this way. But he….who am I kidding I’m in love with him.

When he walked through the door on a Thursday morning next week, he looked healthy and happier than ever. You felt a sense of happiness yourself, therapy is always beneficial to both the patient and the therapist. Every person is a deep universe, their thoughts, experiences, pain, joy, everything. Empathising with clients is a great learning experience, it becomes a part your personality. It becomes a part of you.

“Hey y/n”

“Hi Harry”

“So my week as been as it’s always and I’ve been feeling a lot better ever since that day…and that dream” he had told you about the dream he had the night you watched him sleep. He seemed to completely change after that, he let go of the intense emotions he had been carrying around.

“That’s very good and you’ve made a lot of progress since our first meeting”

“Yeah…I have”

The session went on as usual, he talked about everything that happened, he started fighting with his brothers again, which he hadn’t done in a long time and even though they were pissed off at him, they were happy to have him back.

“Um Harry,” you say at the end of the session. “I think-” you try to choose your words correctly. “I think it’s about time you start seeing another therapist, yeah?”

You see his face drop. “wh-why? I’m doing so much better, is..is it because of that night? I’m so sorry y/n”

“No it’s not that. You and I both know what’s happening between us, it’s wrong for a therapist to get emotionally attached with her patient. I’m sorry, Harry”

“So you’re saying that you’re becoming emotionally attached with me?”

“I..I’m-“

“It’s alright. I understand y/n”

“Yes, thank you. This has been great”

“So… now that you’re not my therapist, can I meet you for coffee this evening?”

“Harry-“

“Half an hour, Dr y/l/n. Just give me half an hour of your time, if you still feel the same way, I’ll never bother you again”

“Uh-" you hesitate. You knew you should have said no. You were going to say no. Yet the words which came out of your mouth were “Okay then, it’s a date”

--------------

Taglist:

@mischiefmanaged011 @notsosmexy @perspectiveparker @justanothermarvelmaniac @amorhollands @thisetaernallove @halfblood-princess-505 @spidey-reids-2003 @peterspideysstuff @musicalkeys @theliterarymess @ilarbu @hollands-weasley @tombob2005 @tommysparker @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @parkerpeter24 @more-like-reyna @hollandbroz-n-haz @aqiise

[theratopia]

Chronic defiance

Welcome back, Therapals,

Today I have to fully embrace anecdotal experience and take some pride in being able to share a part of my story with all of you. Please be kind as I indulge in this task.

It felt to me like episode 184 had an unintentional theme of life-long diagnosis from both the perspective of the patient and those who surround them. Through very specific and personal experiences we were invited to think about how living in sickness can affect one's behavior. It so happens that I am well versed in existing inside a defective body, I just have reached the point where I can wear a healthy disguise.

When I was 13 years old I realized that regular classes would cause me pain. At first, it seemed temporary, maybe I needed glasses or something. Maybe I was tired. At 16 I started avoiding going to the movies because two hours of enjoyment would bring another twelve of agony. By the time I was in college - the first time - I would schedule my day around how many times I was in pain. My backpack always had a supply of medication that needed to be refilled every week. I wouldn't go out much and all my close friends were somewhat accustomed to seeing me in pain. I even developed some signs to be able to communicate when I couldn’t speak - it's rare now, but extremely intense episodes will trap me inside, making me fully aware but unable to speak and/or move.

I went to several doctors, had years of exams done, got close to an addiction to painkillers, thought I was going blind. I also thought I was going to die, accidentally almost caused a fatal injury on myself, and very much wished I was dead.

It took me a few years to figure out I have chronic migraine, even though it runs in the family. It took me more than a decade to manage it successfully.

Looking back, I don't know how I did it, I just knew I had to do it. Daily life was miserable, limited and exhausting. The only way to adapt to it at first was to accept everything. I wasn't ashamed of my condition anymore, and that was who I had to be at that point. But that would not be what would define me for the rest of my life.

Years of treatment later, I say it is an everyday struggle. Today, for example, I woke up and there she was, weighing heavy over my right eye. But I won, I feel fine now. One day at a time, another lesson learnt on how to be the most comfortable me.

Chronic pain will often force you to learn how to live around it, and this is the only specific reality I have some familiarity with. It is an intrusive condition that will sit right in the middle of your existence, refusing to be ignored. And if you ever try to do so, it will just take more space until there is nothing left for you. More than half of my life has been defined by this battle of how to make myself exist around and larger than the pain I can feel at any moment. The triumph I seek is not absolute victory, but a peaceful cohabitation. On one side, my genetic blueprint lays down all the traps; on the other, my unshakable willpower finds its ways to navigate the treacherous terrain. There is no escaping how we were built, but humans are notoriously talented at adaption, the ultimate advantage that hardly ever fails us.

So, please, if you find yourself in similar conditions and your body seems to be actively working against you, be defiant, be courageous. Be stubborn for yourself. Use the survivor's bias to your own benefit. Think about how much you’ve done so far by being exactly who you have always been, how much you have overcome. I won't lie and say the journey is easy. You might not be able to do everything you dream of, sure - I can't wear anything on my head and face, for example. But it will be okay. You can adapt and find other ways of being fulfilled doing what you love. And you will do it your own way, which makes it unique. Perhaps you can pave the way for other people who also exist in a more challenging body.

This is how I like to see my unescapable neurological condition: a challenge that I am able to conquer. I do need a different set of tools, which I craft for myself with the help of those who understand my uncommon requirements.

Don't think you need to make yourself smaller to make others comfortable, no. Ask for what you need because that is what you deserve. There are no rules, you do things the way you need to do them. Somedays, I would wear sunglasses inside the office. Or take naps at a sitting position. Brush my hair for half an hour, brush my teeth for ten minutes, take a shower with a chair.

It is also important to note that it was never anyone's fault that I was suffering constantly, not even mine. The fact that I was in pain made me very irritable, of course, but that was not carte blanche to lash out at my family, for example. The migraine still affects my mood, my tolerance, my energy levels. However, my migraine cannot be used as a shield from criticism, as an excuse to hide from responsibility, or as a justification for recklessness. It is never acceptable to act like you are beyond reproach just because you are in pain. Everyone has their issues and should be held accountable for their shitty behavior.

After so many years of experience, if given the opportunity to tell my younger self anything, I would say it will get better. So that is what I would like to tell anyone facing a lifelong diagnosis. We mature, we adapt. The secret is to never stop, and never let yourself be stopped.

In the beginning, it feels overwhelming, but at some point, you will forget how bad it used to be. Finding balance won't feel so daunting. You will find the best possible version of yourself and feel proud.

Take good care of yourselves. You are worthy.

Triple hug,

The Mayor.