#but like if you acknowledge that one you have to reckon with the fact that the people mental health apps are being marketed to

[werewolfpdfs]

clicked on the lgbt mental health app ad. the ai advice thing (stupid. dumb.) is pre vetted so like. I guess the question becomes do you trust the ~medical professionals~ behind the curtain. and to that i say a resounding no <3

[l0vergirls]

just a little something that's been on my mind for a while now, like it's actually rotting my brain.

cw: stalking, a bit nsfw near the end, just general yandere stuff, not proof-read!!!!! so sorry if its a bit messy !!!!

★ (romantic) yandere!batfam x reader

imagine being the shared darling of the batfam.

it only takes one of them for the rest to fall in love with you, too.

let's say you meet tim during one of the days he actually decides to go to class, and he's thanking the heavens he did.

slowly, he starts to integrate himself into your daily life, and into your friend group. they all love him, of course. who wouldn't love the kind, funny, and handsome tim drake?

during all of this, he'd already told his brothers about you, and because they can't hide anything from bruce, he finds out about you too. unsurprisingly, they come to appreciate you as much as tim has.

and suddenly, you get a particularly handsome new neighbour in the apartment across from you (which you didn't know was even up for rent) and somehow always seems to be in the middle of stripping when you're home. almost as if he can feel your eyes on him. of course, you make sure not to get caught, and avert your eyes as soon as the cloth leaves his waist.

later, you find out his name is jason, and make a good friend out of him. he smokes on his balcony, while you drink coffee on yours.

barely a week after that, you get a new regular at the café you work at. his name's dick grayson. he says it's probably best for you to yell out his last name for his orders too. he's a detective, which explains the late nights he comes into the café. he's always got a stupidly handsome smile on his face, which only adds onto his neverending charm.

and during the occasion that you're walking home alone, you always seem to run into one of the many vigilantes that guard gotham.

you meet both batman and robin during one of your walks home. you're not scared of them, as most people are; you're merely fascinated at the tall figure that towers over you, and his more colourful counterpart that is also taller than you. robin seems to be just a couple years younger than you. and batman... you can't seem to get a read on the man.

you greet them both as calmly as you can, a small smile on your lips. you get nods of acknowledgment from both of them, which you suppose is the most you're getting.

batman doesn't seem to like that you're walking alone, so he sends robin to walk you home. you don't understand why, and you tell them you've walked this route many times already, that they probably have worse things to take care of.

he tells you that you can never be too sure in gotham. with the way he says it, in that gravelly tone, you can't find yourself to disagree.

on your walk, now with robin's company, you feel safer. you also find out this robin is a man of few words, very unlike the last few robins yet much like batman.

the next night, you run into red robin, who has an air of familiarity around him. he's real friendly— in fact, it's almost like talking to a friend. you think you've seen his smile before.

the night after that, you meet nightwing in all of his spandex-clad glory. he's charming, almost flirty.

and for a week, you don't bump into any of the vigilantes, but you do feel watched. you should be frightened, by all means, but you have a feeling deep in your stomach that tells you they won't hurt you. whoever they are.

you see red hood after that week. he's the more intimidating one of the bunch, you reckon. you've nothing to be scared of, knowing he (along with all the others) only goes after the real awful people. you're not guilty of anything, as far as you know.

his voice is almost robotic, as if being run through a voice changer. it doesn't do much to help his image, though you suppose that's the point. he asks what a little thing like you is doing walking around these parts. you say you're just heading home, like all the times you've met one of them.

he lets you on his motorcycle. if you were paying enough attention, maybe you would've felt his heart beating a mile a minute.

your days go on like this for a while. class, work, walk home with one of gotham's protectors. rinse and repeat.

unbeknownst to you, cameras have been planted all around your apartment. in many angles of your bedroom too, save for your bathroom. they've decided to give you privacy in there. no matter how much dick begged.

though they do have clips saved of you walking around in just a towel, or your underwear. god knows what they're doing with those.

but truly, can you blame them? you've invaded the deepest crevices of their minds, your smell lingering on their noses, and the shape of your lips following them in their dreams.

oh, they can vividly see— almost feel your lips on theirs, and they wonder what you look like when your face is scrunched up from pleasure, as their fingers enter you.

but they'll have to wait a little longer. and they'll be damned if they lose you, when you're playing right into their hands.

this got so long !!!! i had to let this all out somewhere <//3 definitely gonna add more but i needed to cut it off at this 😭😭😭😭

[logicalbookthief]

I adore the fact that in so many other stories, Mob Psycho would’ve concluded with the World Domination Arc. After all, it has the big, climatic battle with the ensemble cast versus the overarching villain. They win, and everyone goes home, all’s well that ends well, right?

Except the story doesn’t end there. Because Mob has yet to reckon with this internal, antagonist force that has haunted the narrative since the very beginning: Himself.

When Mob comes face-to-face with ???% at long last, he says: I am Kageyama Shigeo.

This isn’t a conflict with a villain, or another esper, or even a separate entity that resides inside Mob’s body. It is something far more personal, and far more relatable.

???% is the culmination of everything Mob’s held back. Not just emotions like anger or fear. Even his desires, like his crush on Tsubomi. All muted by his efforts not to hurt anybody with his powers. Mob has come such a long way, but he’s still restraining his feelings so tightly that the moment his control wavered, ???% took over.

But the conflict isn’t the destruction ???% is wreaking just by walking through the city. The conflict is Mob refusing to accept this part of himself he’s suppressed for so long.

And ???% is right! Every attempt to stop him thus far has failed. Because he isn’t meant to be stopped. Mob has to reconcile with the parts of himself that he won’t acknowledge.

And it’s the most difficult thing Mob has ever had to do! This is the part of himself that hurt his brother; that hurt his friends and decimated so much of the city. Reconciling with it means accepting that Mob hurt those people, whether he wanted to or not. It means accepting all facets of himself, even ones he’s not proud of or wishes he could change but cannot.

Mob has grown so much in this latest season alone, he hasn’t had any explosions, and he felt confident enough in his own abilities to actually ask Tsubomi out, which was something the Mob of two seasons ago could never imagine.

But what about the advice Reigen gave him for his confession to Tsubomi?

His true self, in its totality. This is what Mob has struggled with the entire story. This is why his confession to Tsubomi is the culmination of his character arc. Expressing his feelings means exposing his true self to someone else, even with the fear of rejection.

And while we’re on that subject. Let’s talk about Reigen. Right after he gives this advice to Mob, he says this about himself:

It is the height of irony (and tragedy) that Mob and Reigen admire each other’s strengths so much, yet have no idea they struggle with the same exact fear: that if the people they cared for found out who they truly were, they would reject them. It is why Reigen relies on lies and why Mob suppresses himself.

It is also why Reigen has never actually witnessed ???% until now. It is why Mob has never heard Reigen admit the truth about himself out loud.

And that’s why the final arc feels like such a gut-punch in the best of ways. What is harder than accepting who you are, and hoping for others to accept you as you are? Even at your most deceitful, or your most destructive? Mob Psycho ends with the Confession Arc because that’s the very heart of the story.

[twilightcitysky]

Everything Is Meant (long S2 analysis, part 2)

Part one here

Okay, so that's how I think the pre-creation scene and Gabriel's arc connect to Aziraphale's choice. I also think the ineffable bureaucracy speedrun exists to prove totally different things to Aziraphale and Crowley: Aziraphale loves that they can love each other but notes they have to run away to be together; Crowley sees this and immediately thinks "hey, we can do that too!", forgetting that running away is not a solution Aziraphale has ever been interested in. It's the mentality of an individualist vs a group-oriented mind, and neither of them is necessarily wrong, it's just that their priorities are different and they HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT, which they don't.

Continued analysis under the cut:

3. Let's take the Job minisode. Why include it? We already mentioned that it proves Aziraphale remembers Crowley as an angel, since he mentions it. And he believes Crowley is the same person he always was, and that he doesn't want to harm Job's crops or animals or children. Crowley tries to convince him he's a Big Bad Demon who is all in on this assignment, but fails utterly to kill even a single goat, soooo... Aziraphale comes to the conclusion that he knows what Crowley wants. Alert! Alert! This is a big problem! Crowley says, "What do you know about what I want?" Aziraphale: "I know you." Crowley: "You do not know me." But because Aziraphale got it right this time, he goes ahead assuming he'll always get it right, which is a crucial failure when it comes to the final reckoning. He doesn't ever ASK Crowley what he wants, he just assumes. When you assume you know what someone wants, you usually assume their priorities align with yours... he couldn't be more wrong about that. The Job minisode sets up this dynamic for them, and they never really manage to change it.

The other thing happens at the end of the minisode. Crowley acknowledges two crucial points: 1) he's lonely ("But you said it wasn't!" "I'm a demon. I lied"), 2) he doesn't think Aziraphale would like Hell. Aziraphale DOESN'T like Hell. Aziraphale hates Hell for what they've done to Crowley. He doesn't see Heaven as innocent or benign, but importantly, Heaven has never tried to hurt Crowley directly. They never threatened his safety. They never tortured him (as it's heavily implied that Hell did). Fast forward to the last ten mins of season 2: Aziraphale excited to tell Crowley that he can be an angel again BECAUSE: he never has to go back to Hell. They can never hurt him again, not the way they did before. And he doesn't have to be lonely anymore.

Last point before I leave Job: Crowley has the chance to cause Aziraphale to Fall, here, probably. ("I lied to Heaven to thwart the will of God!" "You did, but I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you? ...good, then nothing has to change.") He doesn't take it. He doesn't want Aziraphale to be a demon. He loves Aziraphale as he is. "Angel" as an affectionate. Aziraphale certainly doesn't use "demon" as a pet name for Crowley. I think they set up this scene to contrast the final one, and show how deeply hurt Crowley is that Aziraphale suggest he change.

4. Moving on to Victorian Scotland. This one confused me at first. I was delighted that they brought back the "the lower you start the more opportunity you have to rise" dialogue from the book, but apart from that I didn't really see the point of it. It seems like the statue of Gabriel and the fact that he and Beelz ended up at that pub in the present were more or less coincidental.

The point, I think, is actually not the girl, but the doctor. He's a person who is trying to do good by working in a system that's deeply flawed, and engaging in questionable moral practices for the greater good. (Cadaver dissection is still an essential part of medical school. You need dead bodies to understand living ones.) He shows Aziraphale a tumor he removed from a child who died, and Aziraphale clutches it to his chest. The camera zooms in and lingers to tell us that this is a guardian through and through. He wants to protect people. He wants to do good with every fiber of his being.

To Crowley, it's enough to just "be an us" with Aziraphale. He doesn't really want anything more than that. That's an issue! For one thing, it fosters unhealthy codependency, and for another, Aziraphale would never be happy without the opportunity to help and protect people. It's an essential part of who he is. Metatron knows that, and he plays Aziraphale like a fiddle. The doctor showed Aziraphale that you can make a difference even in systems that are flawed, and even if you have to do things you'd rather not do. Aziraphale doesn't want to go back to Heaven, but he truly thinks he can change things; thinks he can be a guardian with some real power. In his mind, that's the right thing to do.

Last thing that happens in Scotland: Crowley saves a soul from Hell, arguably, by preventing a suicide. He gets in Big Trouble. Whatever happened to him downstairs resulted in him coming back up, leaning on a cane, and asking Aziraphale to give him holy water. Go back and watch that scene knowing what we know now about the Victorian minisode. Ask yourself how Aziraphale must have felt. He likely blamed himself for what happened, because if he hadn't meddled then they never would have been there in the first place. He knew where Crowley was, and why he was there, and he had to sit with that knowledge for years. He desperately wants Crowley to be safe; is perfectly willing to push him away to keep him safe-- which is what he does do, the minute Crowley gets back.

Now think again about what Metatron offered him. A chance to keep Crowley safe forever. He'd never be harmed again. Aziraphale is going to take that offer, no matter what else is asked of him. He's shown over and over again that he'll sacrifice his own happiness to make sure nothing happens to Crowley. And he'll do it without talking to Crowley about it first, because he is a moron who doesn't know how to use his words. Leading Crowley to assume that Aziraphale doesn't love him. The idiot angel is doing it all out of love, but because he doesn't make himself clear Crowley doesn't know that.

Part 3: Maggie and Nina, and their roles as mirror couple/ Greek chorus!

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

The gang & Lucifer + chaotic child reader

a/n: This goes without saying but this is platonic. I have not made one romantic thing and I don't know why

not proofread!

Charlie: Very nervous. You don't have any self-preservation skills or any real way to protect yourself. At least Niffty is an adult so she can trust her with knives and all that. Kinda. Watches you like a hawk. It can get kinda annoying but it's because she cares. The hotel is completely baby-proof. You're not a baby though so it doesn't... work. Tries to help you get your emotions out in a less destructive way. One time you tried drawing the page was a mess of colors. Another time was baking the kitchen was a mess. But it's not hurting anyone so its a win. Okay, the kitchen might of hurt Niffty emotionally.

Vaggie: Tired. You guys are the defention of this imange :

(but that's also her with everyone at the hotel except Husk so whatever) She is less mean when scolding you than she is with others. Both because you are a child and there's a 99% chance you would bite her.

Alastor: He would either despise you or see you as his kid. For the sake of fic, we're going with the second one. You have a similar dynamic that he has with Niffty. Though cause you're a kid he might try to teach you his morals (or his lack of morals.) His ass is going to teach you the most insane things. Do NOT let this man teach kids unless you want future serial killers. And you're already very chaotic so this isn't a huge leap. Charlie, please steal you from him.

Angel Dust: I feel like he'd be okay with kids? Like not great as a parent but just visiting or babysitting he'd actually be pretty competent. Very chill about keeping you out of danger. Just picks you up and moves you away from the danger. Or if you have something dangerous just snatches it and puts it away. If it's not going to kill you also engages in the chaos with you. Irresponsible older brother who still cares about your safety.

Husk: Slightly protective of you. Won't let you go outside without someone else. Because you'd probably die in the weirdest way possible. He acts like he doesn't care but he defiantly does. There have been multiple times he's had to yank beer bottles out of your time. You weren't going to drink it but you'd smash it and use a weapon.

Lucifer: Charlie was a chaos magnet as a kid too! But more the hyper type and not the "I'm going to stab you" type. Does not acknowledge the fact that you're even slightly. Just the "Get your fucking dog bitch" "it don't bite" "YES IT DO" Can keep up with you and often plays with you. Will get you anything you want. Besides weapons those are off-limits.

Niffty: Two peas in a pod. I've based most people's reactions off their relationship with her. You two are a force to be reckoned with. So much rage and desire for destruction such little bodies to contain it. She is a horrible influence on you <3.

[hanyjar]

do stars return?

itoshi sae x reader

summary: your childhood friend leaves, and you question if he’ll ever come back.

notes: [1.2k words.] i like to think this man has super angst potential but that won’t be unearthed today LOL no beta we die like men <3

disclaimers: childhood friends trope, angst (if u squint) to fluff, making out for a lil bit, poetic dialogue, forgiveness theme.

masterlist.

Itoshi Sae shines.

It's a truth you've come to realise at the budding age of seven. He, with his tepid stature and equally cold attitude, is destined for greatness.

A star, you whisper, once upon a time. A time where he lived without a million eyes watching his every move. You will become a star, I just know it. 

And back in the day, it wasn't just you who believed it. Everyone did. From his teachers to his classmates, to his parents and his brother. It was an indisputable fact that the boy who dedicated himself wholly to soccer, a prodigy who made the sport look like an art form, had his future set out for stardom.

So it is no surprise to anyone when your naive declaration comes into fruition.

His face is plastered on every billboard - as far as the eye can see. Japan's pride, he is known as. The Ice Prince; he who dominates the field; a force to be reckoned with.

Itoshi Sae: the star.

You are proud. No doubt. Though, it’s false to say that you aren’t envious. Sae is a trailblazer: one that surpasses all of his enemies with a nonchalant stare, and transcends into the sky with the other geniuses. He is a part of the lucky few who are destined to be gazed upon with awe. Everything and anything you have achieved pales in comparison.

(You’d surely hear reprimands if you voice those thoughts out loud, though. In your time, you have made a name for yourself. An expert in your passion at the mere age of seventeen; a trailblazer in your own right.

…It’ll just never compare to the name Sae built for himself, you think with finality.)

But above the awe and envy you feel whenever Sae’s name comes up, is love.

Love: a trap that is inevitable for a childhood friend of his. A pitfall that you have fell into. Your love for him is a bittersweet fact, one which tugs at your heartstrings whenever his face shows up on your phone. Sweet, because childhood love is a beautiful, rare thing - you’re glad that it has happened, in all honesty - though bitter all the same, because he is a star.

And stars shoot past. They never go back.

(He, will never go back.)

So for the years that Sae is gone, you float by on that knowledge. Merely acknowledging him as the one who crashed into your life, and left as turbulently as he came. You work diligently to mute the love that festered in your heart, knowing it will never be. 

You wholeheartedly believe that your life will continue in this fashion.

Then, the impossible happens.

The star returns, seven years later. On your doorstep, nonetheless.

"Itoshi?" 

Somehow, even in the ungodly hour of 12:56AM, Sae manages to look as beautiful as the day he left. It's unfair. Unfair for him to show up at your doorstep unannounced; unfair for him to have grown into his boyish looks as gracefully as he did.

It’s unfair for him to still make your heart race, even after all this time.

"Who else would it be?" He scoffs, the bite of his words not quite reaching his eyes. "And, Itoshi, seriously?"

His voice makes your heart leap. It's like you are ten again. "Well… You haven't been Sae for a while now," you say. "Not since you ghosted me, anyways."

Sae's eyes flicker with an emotion you thought he is incapable of feeling. "I didn't mean to." Regret. The Ice Prince is feeling regret, all for you. And if you were ten again, maybe that alone would shake you. But you aren't. You are several years wiser. You know better.

"It's fine if you want to be the best in the world. I don't blame you for that - not at all. But you can be number one and not neglect the ones that love you, y'know?" You slowly retreat back into the comfort of your apartment, hand creeping onto the back of the door. "Goodnight, Itoshi. You should go home; it's late."

You push the door, preparing to end the conversation then and there.

It’s not supposed to be like this, you realise. He, your first love, is supposed to stay in the past. Itoshi Sae should not be at your doorstep past midnight, suitcase in tow, as if he came straight from the airport to your house. The feelings you hold for him should be locked up within the depths of your heart - not surging in full force from just the sight of him.

But alas, fate plays its mischievous tricks once again. And Sae is not the type of person who lets blunders get away scot-free.

"…You love me?” He says, barely above a whisper, foot wedged between the door and the entrance. An impenetrable silence follows from your end. 

Seven years older, but still a fool in the face of love, it seems.

“I did,” I still do, your mind yells. “But you’re a star now, Sae. Just like I said you would be.” Your breath hitches, nails forming crescent-shaped indents within your palm. “…And stars don’t fall in love with the big, black sea of nothingness, do they?”

A beat of silence ensues from his end. You cringe at your own word choice. Maybe he left, you think. Great. Itoshi Sae was at your door, and you scared him away with your stupid love and even stupider confession. How stupid can you even get—

The door hinge creaks as you topple over, shattering your inner turmoil. Sae announces his intrusion with a loud sigh.

“Hey! What are you?— This is considered trespassing—“ You begin. Sae shuts you up with a forceful kiss, pinning you against the door that you were hiding behind minutes before. It’s messy, tantalising, addicting. The smell of his aquatic cologne fills your senses, and he cups your face in between his hands. He feels so warm. He feels like home.

Sae’s whole body screams of need. The need for you; the need to make up for the lost time. 

You hate how you are so weak for him. 

“Idiot.” He deadpans as the two of you part. “If you’re going to get all poetic on me, fine. Stars don’t fall in love with the galaxy.” 

You remove yourself from his arms, eyes scrunching in offence. Bold thing for him to say, especially after he just kissed your lips raw. “So… You’re not in love with me?”

“Let me finish.” Sae is quick to pull you back into his embrace, voice impossibly soft for the otherwise stone-faced boy. “Stars don’t fall in love with the sky. They live in it; I live with you.”

Sae hopes that the implication is clear.

You, alone, are his hope; you are the reason he sparkles as much as he does. Even while you were miles apart, his childhood friend was the sole thing on his mind. A star cannot shine without its galaxy, after all.

“You’re not off the hook, by the way.” You breathe lightly, laying your head against his chest. “Seven years is still a long time. I don’t think you can cuddle your way out of this one, Itoshi.”

A small smile elicits from his face, “I can try, can’t I?”

…And this star is willing to wait for his galaxy to forgive him, no matter how long it takes.

[bonefall]

Maybe I'll make a post on this at some point but like, something deeply fucked up about TNP and Po3 that people have totally forgotten about is how badly they try to whine that "Tigerstar Had Good Traits :("

Firestar does it, Brambleclaw does it, and they keep doing this after it becomes this GRAND irony that Firestar almost gets Tiger'd to death in a fox trap because he was too trusting. Bramble gets his pity award of keeping deputyship and then cries to his son about how No One Saw The Good In Tigerstar :(

And it's wiiiiild that no one else in this fandom has done anything with the fact that Leopardstar broke the Warrior Code to appoint Hawkfrost, who had no apprentice, an extremely aggressive and warmongering Tigerclone who says things like "Tigerstar wasn't the worst cat to look up to." ONLY qualifying trait was being kinda like Tigerstar.

And she practically did that the SECOND Mistyfoot went missing. And then Leopardstar continued to be one of the most violent and xenophobic leaders through Po3, joining with WindClan to attack ThunderClan.

What I'm getting at is that like, a few years ago, with books like "Blackfoot's Reckoning" and "Shadow in RiverClan" it's like they suddenly decided to retcon in a bunch of "redemption arcs" in hindsight. They just pretended like there was this grand high reckoning with TigerClan, when there literally wasn't, and if anything that caused SERIOUS problems for the cast that the authors didn't fully acknowledge as such.

And now ppl haven't actually read the main series and are just working with their recent memory of all these retcon books.

But TNP and PO3 are still there, and you can go and see the ACTUAL timeline where Leopardstar is really not apologetic at all, and Blackstar is a useful stooge for the very next wannabe dictator that strolls in, in spite of the new side content that COMPLETELY mischaracterized them for their plots to work.

[crossdressingdeath]

Wyll: Father taught me the four pillars of power. Courage. Insight. Strategy. Justice. He reckoned I'd follow in his footsteps - first as a Fist Marshal, then as a duke. Vanquish evil, maintain order, save the world. But a duke makes bedfellows with more monsters than he slays. Father called it 'diplomacy'. I called it 'hypocrisy'. In the frontiers, there is no posturing, no diplomacy. I slay monsters, I don't consort with them. Even if I might look like one.

I may have lied about being done talking shit about Ulder.

A thing I find interesting with this is that the only one of those four pillars that you could really argue is a heroic trait as opposed to neutral (the Dead Three's Chosen—or at least the initial trio before Orin stabbed Durge in the back—all had courage, insight and strategy for sure) is justice... which the epilogue proves Ulder doesn't really believe in, or at least not in a heroic way. After all, he immediately pardons the Fist for what they did (because the big mean Banite lied to them! Which is definitely the same as being physically forced into tormenting the lower classes! The Fist are victims too! Shut up!) despite openly admitting that he knows that isn't just. It's also interesting that Ulder thought of them as the pillars of power; not good leadership, not heroism, not anything like that. Just power. Which wouldn't be an issue if it wasn't for people constantly insisting he's such a great guy; because they do it feels odd that his priority in teaching his son was how to have power rather than how to be a good leader.

It's also interesting to me that Wyll acknowledges that Ulder willingly worked with awful people and is legitimately angry about the hypocrisy. Sometimes in the early game it feels like the story was originally going to actually involve Wyll facing the fact that his father sucks, but if that was the case I guess they dropped it by act 3. Which is a real shame; I feel like Larian really dropped the ball by having Wyll never realize that Ulder really does suck. Not to mention that it's quite an about-face! Here we have Wyll being angry about Ulder's hypocrisy in working with people he knows are monsters while talking about the importance of vanquishing evil, and then in the epilogue it switches to Wyll going "My father openly admitted that the god of justice himself wouldn't approve of pardoning the Fist for what they did while Gortash was active, then did it anyway because that mean ol' Banite convinced them of something they should've already known because the presence of Bhaalists in Baldur's Gate wasn't a secret and the Fist just didn't do anything about them for years; isn't he so wonderful and empathetic and such a fantastic leader?" Hey, Larian, aren't characters' good endings supposed to be about them acknowledging and beginning to work through how badly the people around them hurt them...?

[librarycards]

I’ve seen a lot of discourse about Aaron Bushnell and madness, with reactionary genocidaires saying it is madness, and leftists saying it is not madness but principled protest. In my mind I am thinking about madness and sanity under empire, thinking I am surely mad and wondering why anyone is trying to be sane. If you have the capacity, can you share your thoughts on the madness of this moment, or point to others who have shared those thoughts?

you have very much captured the spirit of what i think! there's that common aphorism that goes something like, 'if this world is sane, then of course i'm mad' etc. etc., while i think this doesn't fully capture the specific genealogy and politic of Madness as contemporary scholar-activists understand it, it does provide a quick & effective explanation of Aaron's (z"l) decision to make the ultimate sacrifice in support of Palestinian liberation.

it isn't useful to understand his choices as solely Mad (in terms of an embrace of opacity and nonsensicality/illegibility - in fact, quite the opposite, he took pains to be explicit and serious as to his reasoning and methodology so that u.s. media discourse would struggle to obfuscate it [even though they still are]).

however, it *is* useful to use a Mad conceptual framework for some elements of Aaron's choice, and as a means of understanding pathologized forms of protest –– not only suicide, but med strike, hunger strike, etc. these forms of protest, as many have said, are designed to distress onlookers. they are designed to push against the bounds of the common[/]sensical, to gift us with possible alternatives to, you know, getting a police permit and marching in circles, AND, to the complacent, grease the stopped-up gears of their own imaginations. because Aaron did what is, in many ways (even to those of us who have attempted suicide before) unimaginable: he died. we have not yet died. he died yelling "Free Palestine." he died, and lived his last moments with a degree of moral turpitude, courage, and singleminded commitment to a cause that few will ever achieve, and yet one that –– as Aaron himself acknowledged Palestinians must muster every day.

here is where Madness comes in: Aaron acted as a linker of worlds: between that which many usamericans, and many others who have never undergone military siege/genocide, find exists outside the realm of the imaginable. a world that many would prefer to pretend does not, can not, could not exist. a world from which hegemonic media would have "us" (white americans/others in the ~western world~) believe could never exist, not least because our own military hegemons (with Aaron, until the other day, as one of their sentient weapons) protect "democracy" –– that is, the supposed exceptionality/exemption of the "(white) u.s. citizen" from terror, from sociopolitical Madness, from the absolute violence of settler colonialism. Aaron, in short, brought that unimaginable violence home. he forced us to reckon with the brutal truth of martyrdom, here. as someone on here mentioned, he used his status as an airman in what is perhaps the most effective weaponization of privilege i have ever seen. he killed a soldier, and that soldier was himself.

of course media is leaping and will continue to leap on this as evidence of extremism, of dangerous insanity, etc. etc. in radical movements. always has been. read The Protest Psychosis. the idea of insanity has been used by basically every state power to justify disposal, because it's convenient: by claiming one is insane, you also claim all of their appeals to reason are the result of their insanity. this is called anasognosia. it's a cute little trick. it isn't new. the best way to approach this is to maintain two things: one, that Aaron's choice was rational given a clearsighted understanding of the scale of genocide that's currently taking place. AND, to question those –– leftists included! pro-pal folks included! –– who uncritically cite 'mental illness' as the reason for Aaron's suicide.

this is not because Aaron wasn't what some would call "mentally ill" –– i don't know him, i do not live in his head. the point is, it does not matter if he was diagnosed with anything or not. it does not matter if he was already suicidal or not. it does not matter if he had tried to kill himself before. none of it fucking matters, and attempts to reduce this act to the result of a mad(dened) mind is to distract from the political project he pursued. he performed a politically Mad act, to which his imagined internal pathology was irrelevant. he broke consensus reality, even if only for a moment. he linked worlds. Palestinians felt it. that is what matters.

so, how did he connect worlds? he did something Mad. it is useful to understand suicide as a Mad act, so long as we are careful not to fall into the pathologizing traps that exclude suicidal people as interlocutors outright. he showed many of us, activists included, what we could be doing - the lengths to which it is possible to go in support of liberation. he did not, and i am not, encourage/ing everyone else to kill themselves. self-immolation is effective, in many ways, because so few people do it. we need to stay alive to continue the fight. however, Aaron tore the fabric of the reasonable, the possible, and the legal (consider the pigs who approached his burning body with guns) to disrupt a collective consciousness that would rather move on, equivocate, forget, tune-out. that is Mad. Madness is necessary in our movements, all of them.

[moments-on-film]

Moments on Film: Carmy and “Just Keep Going”

“Just keep going” is a recurring mantra in The Bear. The first time we hear it, it’s Marcus telling Sydney as he helps her clean up the spilled veal stock in S1. Cousin Michelle says it to Carmy during their poignant scene at the Christmas dinner. Carmy says it to himself by replaying Michelle’s words in his head as he awaits the results of the fire suppression test. The last time we hear it, Carmy says it to Sydney to help her focus and calm down as she’s recovering from Marcus’s outburst in the S2 finale.

I think “just keep going” has been Carmen’s personal mantra his entire life. It has had to be. And while it may have served him well in years prior, I believe it has now, finally all caught up with him.

Because of Carmy’s traumatic and abusive upbringing, he has trained himself to never properly reflect on what just happened. How could he possibly? From what we have been shown so far, his mother is extremely abusive, controlling, manipulative, and threatening. In their brief scenes together, she called him by his brother’s name, threatened him to the point that I believe she physically abuses him, and in fact slapped his face while he was very sweetly comforting her and trying to calm her down. The look on his face after being slapped is gut wrenching, mainly because, as always, there’s so much in his expression—a world of hurt and emotions, and you know he will never tell anyone about what she just did. All he can do is repress his feelings, suppress the urge to react in any way, and literally just keep going. He has to. It’s how he has survived. And it’s killing him.

Gif source: @sarcasmcloud

We still don’t know what Carmy’s relationship with his dad was like. He says he “didn’t really know him well enough to miss him.” Is this true? Or did Carmy also have to survive physical and emotional abuse, in addition to neglect from him, starting at a very young age? Either way, he’s had to keep moving forward and not look back, likely afraid of what will happen if he stops and actually does. This is another reason why he’s always scanning people’s faces, body language and tone to see if they’re mad at him, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. He has been surrounded by erratic, unpredictable behavior. He has had to think ahead, plan his next move, anticipate people’s behavior, reactions and responses so he can be prepared. He has had to live a life of propulsion, never looking back. Staying still, reflecting on the abuse he has had to survive as well as the recent trauma of his brother’s suicide could potentially cause a complete and total nervous breakdown, so he pushes on.

In the flashback scene in New York, we get another, heartbreaking example of how “just keep going” is killing Carmy. His boss is an emotionally abusive tyrant, but for Carmy to call it out, first he would have to acknowledge it. To do that, he might also have to think about and acknowledge the abuse he’s suffered, likely from his dad, certainly his mom, possibly his “uncle” Lee, even his brother. He is not ready to reckon with any of the abusive behavior in those relationships, so he keeps his head down, and does anything he can to get through the day, even if that means vomiting his unspoken feelings out of his sick and exhausted body before every single shift.

Even before New York, which—ironically and devastatingly, was supposed to be a time where he could “decompress” and escape the trauma at home, he was doing anything and everything to stay ahead of slowing down and facing what he’s been through. For years he’s been putting one foot in front of the other, scared to look down, lest he fall off the tightrope.

Presumably since after high school, he’s been traveling around, and in constant motion. Numerous restaurants in California, Copenhagen, then New York. Carmy has so much unprocessed trauma from multiple sources that has never really dealt with, he’s literally been on the run. He has been distracting himself and filling the void by throwing himself into work, and in the words of cousin Michelle at Christmas dinner, he has, in fact, been, “running around like crazy.” He might change his location, but his unprocessed trauma follows him everywhere he goes, causing him paranoia, anger, shame, guilt, self loathing, dread and fear. It’s also made him sick.

The only way to escape is to never be idle for a second, which is why he’s in constant motion. Carmy as a character is rarely completely still. His hands are constantly moving, in S1 in particular he is perpetually running his hands through his hair, feeling his forehead, smoking, and fiddling with his spoon. He hands tremor and tremble when there’s nothing to occupy them. None of this is an issue when he’s scrubbing floors or furiously chopping vegetables. He can be so unsettled and it all stems from the need to stay in motion to distract himself.

Life in a kitchen can easily swallow someone’s entire life. There’s always so much to do—from the prep to the cooking, the tasting, managing staff, actual service, cleaning, ordering supplies, and doing it all over again to keep the place running. Orders come in that have to be filled. It’s relentless, and at the highest level, requires complete and utter focus to be completed successfully. Natalie correctly points out the toll the restaurant takes on Carmy in her first scene with him. “It’s eating you alive”, she tells him. And it is. In S1, Carmy talks about how much time they would spend cleaning at The French Laundry. It’s hard to let your mind wander when you’re in motion and just keep going, so that’s exactly what Carmen does.

The rare moments where Carmy does pause and rest, he has life threatening night terrors, crippling nightmares, and horrible anxiety. In a prior post I analyzed Carmy’s visibly elevated vital signs in S1 and S2. He is so repressed and stressed out it impacts his entire body. With no outlet, his unresolved trauma, undiagnosed PTSD and extreme anxiety manifests inwardly and makes him ill. His dangerously heightened pulse and heartbeat are often visible onscreen. He has trouble breathing. He’s constantly chewing tums or chugging Pepto Bismol to calm his stomach. One of the few items in his apartment visible to Sydney as she enters is a giant bottle of ibuprofen. As I mentioned before, he often looks sick. There’s so much tension coursing through his body sometimes he actually looks like he’s burning up with fever. He’s not taking care of himself. He’s not eating well, and he barely sleeps. His coat is too thin for the freezing Chicago weather, and that’s when he actually wears it to go outside. He blinks his eyes hard in stressful moments, which is a trauma response. The way his body reacts during his panic attacks is frightening. There have been several moments where he looked like he was going to collapse and have a heart attack.

He has been running around, over working himself, repressing his emotions and feelings, neglecting his own needs, health and happiness and in constant motion for probably the past decade. As I detailed in a prior post, Carmy is lost at the present because he’s never allowed himself to slow down and find out who he really is and what actually makes him happy. He’s been in complete and total survival mode.

There is no way he can keep up at the level he has been operating and not completely collapse at some point. I think that’s a huge reason, subconsciously, that he slipped into the relationship with Claire. Among other reasons, he is exhausted and it was a way out and seemingly a soft place to land. She is also probably the first person to physically touch him, maybe in years. Of course he wanted to lean into the potential comfort and care that he thought she might be able to provide. He needs touch and tenderness so desperately that he invited her to the restaurant, his sacred space, mere seconds after she stroked his face, a turning point in their “relationship.”

Claire initially allowed him just enough relief that he wasn’t about to explode. However, in the end, it proved to be such a distraction that it pulled him even further from reality, his duties, and people who he actually should have been spending time with, namely, Sydney. The lack of healthy balance caused him increased anxiety and much more harm than good. His panic attacks actually increased and got worse during his time with Claire. She also only served to unhealthily unearth the past he’s been running away from by bringing painful memories he’s tried to suppress screaming to the surface.

I am very worried about where a potential next season(s) will take Carmy, emotionally and physically. He is headed for a serious crash and burn if he thinks he can just ignore his numerous health problems and keep running from his past. He is only human. They will all catch up with him and I believe they already have.

I’m also worried because we know the writers like to do call backs and tie threads together. Plot points, relationships and lines are never wasted. I’ve said in my posts prior to S2 how badly I think Carmen needs to see a Doctor. The fact that Claire is one, but it never factored into S2 is so odd to me. This is what makes me think we perhaps have not seen the last of Claire.

Carmy physically exhibits crippling distress, and noticeably elevated vital signs, in the form of shallow breathing, rapid pulse, pounding heartbeat and a face that often looks flushed with fever. He actually had a “gnarly” panic attack while he was with Claire. He needs medical attention, but we were never shown her acknowledge this or make a recommendation about the help he needs, or give him tips to calm down, apart from essentially “just ignore your problems and they’ll go away.” This is all so strange to me because Carmy is not well, Claire’s an ER Doctor in residency, and she experienced him during a horrible panic attack. What is the first thing they do at the Emergency Room? Check your vital signs. Can’t she see he’s sick? Wouldn’t she want to help him, personally, not to mention professionally, to get treatment and ease his suffering? It doesn’t make any sense to me.

He has, however, found a new way to self soothe in his most painful moments to calm down his nervous system—with visions of the one thing that helps him stabilize and breathe, visions of Sydney.

I really hope that the next time Carmy and Claire see each other isn’t because he’s being brought to the Emergency Room where she’s a Doctor because of something terrible, like an illness, accident, or major health emergency. That said, I think he is on the brink of a crisis. A major health issue might be the only way for him to stop and actually slow down enough to rethink his life and how he’s been spending it these past years.

Season 2 ends with Carmy believing he needs to double down on his mantra and “just keep going”like he always has, push himself to the max, and sacrifice his entire existence to run the restaurant, but that is not sustainable. It is not service, it is servitude. I believe he is exhausted, burnt out and headed for disaster from living this way for the past decade. He’s a master at masking that he’s barely hanging on by a thread. This is a huge reason why Sydney is his lifeline. Unlike Claire, who’s supposedly “known” Carmy for years, within days Sydney accurately diagnosed Carmy’s problem (S1E2) “you need help”, she told him. She saw through what he was trying to hide, to what he needs most. She caught him before he fell and she’s been holding him this whole time. I honestly believe that by walking in the doors of The Beef, Sydney saved Carmen’s life, but neither one of them truly realizes it yet.

I really hope for the sake of Carmy’s physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health he will see that slowing down, coming to terms with the abuse and trauma he’s survived, taking care of himself, resting, and getting professional help is a life and death situation for him.

Carmen needs to realize that he hasn’t and isn’t living a full life with the mantra “just keep going.” It has worked so far as a survival tactic but he deserves and needs to live a life where he can be healthy, fulfilled and happy. A life where he’s not just going but growing. I hope he realizes this before it’s too late. For the sake of his health the stakes are extremely high and he has no time to lose. Every second counts, indeed.

©️moments-on-film 2023

[boonsmoon]

Foundation of Love (2)

Request: PLS DO 2 PARTS🥺

Ask and ye shall receive Btw; you have the free will of being the goddess of literally anything

Part 1

Request Masterlist Mu Qing x f!reader Genres:🎉🌸💞🧪

Mu Qing and you were like two peas in a pod. It seems your time lacking experience has created an unbreakable bond.

Y'all were so tight in fact that you kept in contact even after you stopped working for Xie Lian. Now you are both Heavenly Officials with an extreme amount of believers and temples!

This; however, lead to a one-sided competition. Friendly, yes, but still odd to compete over who was the better deity. You like to consider yourself a humble goddess though, considering you aren't as prickly with the aesthetic of your temples like Mu Qing.

Ignoring the status you both held, he had this charm that was unlike that of a god, it was greater actually. You both spent enough time together to get to know the little things.

Like how he still remembers when a follower tried to offer a gift that none of your temples would accept 500 years ago. Even you don't remember what the item is on your own without him bringing it up. A fantastic memory but basically useless.

Or how he notices how quick you are to deal with the prayers of your believers. He's a hard-worker yes, but never would he acknowledge a prayer 5 seconds after hearing it. Mu Qing thinks you might be a bit too diligent, or have too much time on your hands.

In the end, you both know each other like the back of your hand. In fact most of the other officials think you two are together, but no! It's actually painful to watch from the sidelines.

Now Feng Xin is a protective older brother, and honestly he can barely tolerate Mu Qing after all these years. But, he can see that Mu Qing makes you happy, and your happiness has priority over his displeasure!

Unfortunately, Feng Xin sucks at this. And whenever he tries to get you to hang out with Mu Qing and ✨confess✨ it ends with you scolding Feng Xin for being an asshole.

It got to the point that one of the goddesses had to sit down and have a talk with you. While the conversation seemed nice, you could tell by the undertone she was basically demanding you admit your feelings to him.

And to be honest? You self reflected and realized he definitely wasn't gonna do it, so you had to. But that's fine, it's the 21st century, these things happen.

What you didn't know; however, was that Feng Xin had a passive aggressive conversation with Mu Qing basically saying the same thing. He NEEDS to confess or else.

With an agreed meeting in a garden, you both told the other you had important information which must be shared with the other. It could be gossip, latest trends among humans, who knows what the other wants to say?

The time of reckoning has come, and you are both visibly nervous. Who wouldn't be? Confessions are kinda tough.

Y'all have come to consensus earlier in your friendship that be straightforward is easiest, no matter what. You started, "s-so basically to make it simple, we need to stop this friendship. Now you go next!"

Mu Qing a look of horror on his face, contemplating on continuing, "I came to tell you we should ascend past a friendship... Be something more, but if that's not what-"

"Fantastic! We're on the same page and can get this over with," you interrupted him. He looked at you like you were insane, "you have a horrible way with words, I'll have you know that."

You lightly laughed, "yeah, but it's just my luck we had the same thing to say." And Mu Qing decided this was the time to be really romantic and kiss you. <3

im back on my cringe

but also i got a sudden burst of energy to WRITE so i MUST

BTW im noticing all my TGCF reqs are Mu Qing, so either the fandom is full of massive simps or theres a shortage of Mu Qing content

not complaining pls keep the reqs coming

[whositmcwhatsit]

Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Like a lot of girls, Chancy Crawford had once been able to call herself one of Elvis's girlfriends, but that was long time ago. Now, she called herself his friend, or his 'cousin' if any of his girlfriends asked. It was just easier that way. And their relationship was all about being comfortable and easy. Until she gets asked to come and join a tour that seems endless and cursed.

AN: I'm not sure if anyone remembers I used to write silly stories, but here's the next installment of one I have neglected for too long. Thank you to everyone who continued to patiently message and let me know how much they liked the characters and very politely ask for the next chapter.

Thanks to @thatbanditqueen for injuring herself in order to give me motivation. And reading to check that I still remembered how to type words. You might need to remind yourself what happened before: Chapter 11 Chapter 12- Move Across the night sky, with those anonymous lights.

Pulling up to the gate of one of Elvis’ homes always invoked a strange combination of emotions in Chancy no matter how often she visited. Maybe it was the fact that there was always, always, at least a few people standing around ogling her curiously, but there was also the insecurity that this might be the time that the gates would not open for her, and the pride she felt at how much he had achieved, as well as an undeserved sense of personal achievement that she knew someone who had so much. That last one always made her feel guilty. 

Harold kept her waiting, pretending that he needed to come to the window of her Chevrolet to see who she was and then saying he would have to call up to the house to check it was okay.

“Can’t be letting in just anyone, you know.” He went to the gatehouse and the gate began to open immediately. She smiled and pretended to be amused by his trick as she rolled past. 

Chancy pulled up around the back near to the fence where the staff parked. Her car fit in better there than next to the limo and the Lincolns and the cadillacs. She glanced in the rear view mirror and checked her make-up hadn’t slid off her face in the humidity. Her air conditioning was busted, again- it only ever seemed to happen in the summer, a cosmic joke or a punishment. 

Grabbing her two small, yellow travel cases, she swung the door shut with her hip and sighed, trying to force her heart to slow down by denying it oxygen. Just a visit, just a visit, she focused on the words and willed her heart to follow their rhythm. 

“Well, hello there, Chancy.” She started and dropped one of her cases as Mr Presley approached her from the office, a smile on his plump face. He had that end of the day twinkle in his eye and Chancy mused how, between his twinkle and Mrs Presley’s dancing glow in her brown eyes when she was laughing, it was no wonder Elvis could incapacitate people with just a glance.  

“Hi, Sir, it’s good to see you again!” She went to grab her fallen luggage, but Vernon reached it first and picked it up, adjusting his grip and miming like the case was heavy. 

“My Lord, what do you have in here?!”

“Well, you know now a girl can’t give away the secrets needed to make her presentable, it’d spoil the magic, wouldn’t it?” 

“I guess it would,” he agreed, still smiling slightly. “Though I reckon I need some magic to help this ole mug.” 

“Nonsense! I was just about to ask you for your secret!” 

Chancy could do this all day. In fact, she did do this all day; most of her job was buttering up clients and making them feel good about themselves. The fact that there was a slight ache to her cheeks as she smiled now was proof of how hard she worked. 

“Well, you always were a sweet girl,” he returned, glancing over his shoulder at the house and tightening his lips. “Let me walk you in, I know Elvis is expecting you.” He reached out for her other case and she let him take it, puzzled since Vernon didn’t usually go out of his way to be helpful or even really acknowledge her much past a short, pleasant greeting. 

On the way, they made small talk about the weather, which was the law in civilised society. One of them remarking on the heat, the other saying that it had to break soon. Debating whether it was hotter or cooler than previous years and then exchanging stories of the most extreme heat they had ever encountered. He told her about a time when he was a young man down in Mississippi and he was doing some work for a man who wore a hairpiece. The day got so hot that the glue melted and the hair started slipping when he spoke. No one was brave enough to tell him and lose the job. He mimed the man’s hair flying back and forth and how they had to all fight to keep their eyes from flicking from side to side with it. His laughter at his own story was infectious. 

As they came in through the back door, he paused in the dim back hallway. Somewhere nearby she could hear a football game being played on television and men’s voices rising and falling as they questioned plays and commiserated. 

“You know, it sure is good to see you, Chancy. Elvis’ mother always used to speak so highly of you and how well you took care of him.” He left the rest unspoken, looking behind him to the stairs to the basement, and then turning back and nodding at her. 

“Thank you, Mr Presley,” she smiled, a little puzzled. She awkwardly fished back her cases and wondered if he was working up to something, and if she should wait. 

Instead, he opened the door to the kitchen and motioned her in, wishing her a good night. 

In the kitchen, Elvis’ aunt Delta was complaining about trying to buy something and how they had raised the price when she gave them the delivery address. 

“Shouldn’t matter if it’s Tom, Dick or Elvis, if it’s fifty dollars it should stay fifty damn dollars. The nerve of people!” Her little dog was yipping and bouncing around her feet, excited by the heightened emotion in her voice. Mary, Elvis’ cook, her coat on like she had been trying to leave for some time, agreed with her, nodding her head wholeheartedly. 

They both turned to look at Chancy as she paused by the counter with a faint smile of anticipation. It was always a roll of the dice which side of Delta you would get, but that evening was a good day, because they exchanged greetings and Chancy was invited into the story of the new chair that had started out as fifty dollars and became one hundred once it was destined for Graceland. 

“One hundred dollars, my ass! I said, it’s for me, not Elvis and we both of us have enough sense not to waste another fifty dollars on some piece of-” 

The phone rang on the wall by where Delta was sitting at the breakfast bar and she snatched it up, listened for a minute, and then nodded to her. 

“Elvis said to go ahead and go on up.” 

Chancy had to temper her speed as she moved through the kitchen, heading towards the back stairs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your chair,” she shrugged, stepping onto the first tread. 

“Oh honey, I got the chair, and a little table to boot. Soon’s I told ‘em that I’d go home and say what a rat-infested flea-ridden store they had and how we ain’t never gonna shop there again, we got the friends and family discount too.” 

“Well, they’ll know better than to mess with you next time, Mrs Biggs. I might need to get some tips from you for when I have to negotiate with my suppliers.” 

As she was climbing the stairs, she heard Delta say: 

“Honey, I don’t think you need any help from anybody trying to get anything.” 

Her foot momentarily faltered as her body wanted her to stop and march back down, but her brain won out just barely and forced her to continue her climb. By the time she had opened and closed all the doors that marked her journey, she was pretty sure she had knocked her case into her left shin enough times to leave a bruise, and she paused just inside Elvis’ office to run a finger under each eye to catch the slowly dripping mascara. She tapped on the door and waited to hear a low murmur of assent before she pushed the slightly ajar door open. 

Elvis was sitting on his enormous bed with the newspaper laid out before him, apparently deeply engrossed in it, though she knew he had to have been watching the monitors at least a couple of minutes ago to know that she had arrived. 

“Oh no! I think there’s been some mistake!” she lisped in a high voice. “The man at the reception desk said that this was my room.” She whirled around, wide-eyed, in the doorway. “This is room 385631.6 and half, right?” 

Elvis smirked, his lips and cheekbones all curves as his eyes narrowed. His voice was a little thick like his tongue was still waking up.  

“Damn, they must’ve double booked the rooms again, and, you know, I heard the clerk say that they were full up, no vacancies.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head like he was genuinely upset and disappointed in the ‘hotel’. 

“Right,” she responded. “I guess that’ll be because of the convention?” 

He nodded, rising slowly and stepping closer to her, his fingertips tickling her wrist. 

“Uh huh, right, the, uh, One-eyed Albino Python Lovers of America convention,” he nodded, turning away as he almost broke. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s a popular one,” she murmured, hearing him snort over his shoulder, and fighting to keep her face straight. 

“Well,” he sighed with a sense of inevitability, turning back to her. “I guess there’s only one thing for it.” He shrugged with his whole body, throwing up his arms. “We’ll just have to share the room.” 

“That seems like that’s all there is to it,” she agreed in her ditsy high voice.

“You sure your boyfriend won’t mind, uh, Miss…?”

“Tallulah-Wanda, and I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t, huh. Well, I guess I’m just fixing problems all over the place tonight.” He pulled her into a clinch worthy of one of his movies, dipping her down so that she dropped her cases and grabbed his shoulders for safety. They broke apart and smiled breathlessly at each other for a minute. 

“One-eyed Albino Python Lovers,” she muttered, slapping his shoulder. He smirked and pulled her back up. 

“What? I’m telling ya, Tallulah baby, it’s a real group.”

“Uh huh, and I bet you’ve met quite a few members.” 

“I meet a lot of people,” he replied evasively. He grabbed her jaw and kissed her hard on the mouth. “How was your day?” 

She paused, surprised by the question. “Uh, it was fine, thank you for asking. How was yours?” 

“Honey, I woke up less than two hours ago,” he pointed out, with a wry lift of his eyebrow. 

“Right, right, I’m in the Elvis time zone now. Gotta adjust my clock accordingly. How was your breakfast?” He rolled his eyes and tugged her towards him, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her. 

“That’s enough of that,” he murmured, though he didn’t elaborate on what ‘that’ was, just steered her around and nudged her backwards towards the bed. “Gotta unwrap my present here.” He tugged on her pale pink pussycat bow, teasing the ends out from where they were tucked into her low scooped waistcoat and pulling the loose knot free. 

“You want me to give you my scarf?” she murmured, keeping her voice low to hide how affected she was. “Hmm, that’s a twist.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but he seemed absorbed in his task, letting her silky scarf flutter off to the side as he studied her. She returned the favour, noting how fair his lashes looked in the daylight. His face was fuller, maybe because he hadn’t been well, but his colour was better than when she had last seen him at her house. 

Biting his lip slightly, he unbuttoned her waistcoat, but there was nothing seductive or gentle about his movements. She genuinely felt like a gift given to an overexcited six year old. The waistcoat went in the other direction to her scarf, quickly followed by her heels. 

“I’ll show you where your things are,” he said, pulling away and holding out a hand. She had to tamp down a smile as she let him lead her, padding behind him in her stockinged feet. 

That morning, she had deliberately dressed up in her most businesslike outfit, stopping just short of wearing pants, because she knew he wouldn’t like it. Not to antagonise him exactly, but there had definitely been something pointed in her choice. Some barbed reminder that she was a whole person with a successful, fulfilling life that went on out of his sight line. She wasn’t one of the no doubt many girls around the country just waiting for his call, their life outside of him just filler that happened between their time with him. 

In the ‘guest’ dressing room off his office, he showed her the row of plastic covered outfits that he had bought her on tour as if they had been there ever since he returned and not, as was more likely, hastily moved in that day after the last girl had left. 

“You don’t like what I’m wearing?” she asked as he hovered in the doorway. He shifted uncomfortably and opened his mouth, clearly still formulating his reply. “I’m teasing you. Go on now, let me change.”

“Oughta tan your hide,” he muttered, giving her a sideways look as he retreated from the door. “Don’t change your hair.” 

“Saying please don’t hurt you know!” she called out the door. 

“I know!” he hollered back from presumably the bedroom. 

In the small dusky pink dressing room, Chancy deliberately did not touch any drawers, no matter how painfully her curiosity niggled at her. She tried to be as dispassionate as she would be in a communal dressing room, which, essentially, it was. She made sure not to make a mess and folded her own clothes neatly, putting them back into her case. 

There were a few toiletries sitting on top of the dressing table and she leant over them in order to apply more make up to her eyes, appreciating the good lighting. When she had finished, she checked that she had not left a trace and came back out into the office. 

Elvis was sat at his desk with Joe standing over him and murmuring into his ear, his arms spanning the desk and the back of Elvis’ chair. His broad back blocked Elvis from her view. The body language could not have been clearer. 

Without stopping, she tiptoed past them towards the bedroom, still holding her bags. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Elvis snapped over the top of Joe’s low mumbling. Chancy glanced over her shoulder almost guiltily. 

“Going in there? I got changed like you said.” Elvis visibly relaxed, his face smoothing and shoulders dropping. 

“I thought you were ducking out on me. What you got your bags there for?” 

“I didn’t want to leave all my things lying about. I’m trying to change my messy ways, you know.” He shook his head and waved his hand back towards the dressing room. 

“No, go ahead and put everything in there, honey, that’s yours.” She hesitated, but Joe had already resumed his whispering and Elvis was frowning at the console of his desk with its screen and knobs and switches. So, she tucked her cases inside the door of the dressing room and speed-walked past them back into the bedroom. 

The curtains were closed and, though the lamps were lit, the room still felt dark to Chancy. This was not helped by the enormous bed that was clad in black every way from the headboard to the bedcovers. She perched on it primly, her feet barely skimming the floor. She didn’t like that, being reminded that she was short. It made her feel like the room was patting her on the head somehow. 

Instead, she pushed off the bed and scanned the shelves of the units, smiling a little at the framed photos of a blond little girl and running her finger over the ornaments, some of them clearly from fans. 

There were a few records scattered around the record player, their labels a mess of scrawled handwriting that revealed them to be demos. And there were books, piles and piles of books with fuzzy, slightly scary titles like ‘The search for…’, ‘A Study of…’, ‘Explore the world of…’ 

One caught her eye, a small, slim volume with exotic gold patterns etched into the worn covers. She glanced up at the door before she opened it to the foreword. It was Sufi poetry translated from the original Persian. Chancy pressed her fingers to the pages in wonder, trying to make it fit into the already complex and contradictory picture of Elvis she held in her mind.

The man himself burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, but he stopped short when he saw her standing by the shelves as if he had forgotten she was in there. She could see him biting down and breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, like he was trying to change gears while still accelerating.

She didn’t say anything, looking back down at the book and reading the first poem silently to herself, giving him time to collect himself without being observed, to leave without feeling obligated or ask her to leave. She felt him as he drew close to her, his chest brushing her shoulder. 

“It’s good, you should borrow it when I’m done,” he said quietly, calmly. She smiled as she took her hand away from the page and turned towards him.

“What’s it about?”

“I- I can’t exactly say,” he shrugged. “It makes me feel like words and ideas, even sermons and laws, they’re just getting in the way and confusing people, distracting them from the truth and the real essence of God, you know. I-I-I ain’t saying it right, but the guys in this book, they pull back the curtain, you know, and you feel like you’ve caught a glimpse of something, just for a moment, that’s greater and truer than anything else.” 

Chancy tilted her head, letting that sink in.

“I do think I’d like to read it after you, thank you.” He leant past her and picked it up.

“Here, take it, honey. I can get another. Ignore the scribbling though, sometimes I just gotta work things out in my head. Try and get things straight, you know.”

“No, Elvis, I can’t, not if you’re enjoying it! I can wait until you’re done.”

“Baby, I want you to. Like I said, I can get another. And we can talk about it when you’re done reading it. I don’t- I don’t have no one I can discuss these things with. They all just get this damn pie-eyed look on their faces like ole Elvis’s gone nuts and they don’t know who to call to fix it.” He crossed his eyes and pulled a silly face while he pushed the book into her chest until she took hold of it. 

“That’s dumb,” she murmured, cradling the book to her chest. “Everyone knows you already went crazy years ago.”

“Yeah, well whose fault was that,” he returned, gritting his teeth and pushing his forehead against hers, smushing the tip of her nose. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drew him closer, simultaneously loving and resenting the almost painful wave of relief that rolled over her as she nestled into his arms and felt his soft lips brush against hers. The big sigh he let out as he squeezed her in tighter at least let her know that she wasn’t alone in this comfort trap. 

“I missed this silly little face,” he murmured, one hand gripping her jaw playfully but gently. 

“Really? This one?” She crossed her eyes and scrunched up her nose, tightening her lips so that it looked like she had buck teeth. 

In response, he wrapped one big hand over her face and put a little pressure into it, nudging her backwards. She went with it, trusting him not to have her tumbling on her butt down the stairs. The side of the bed pressed into the back of her legs and she grabbed him by the biceps to stop herself from falling backwards. 

“You missed me too, right?” he almost whispered, leaning down to kiss her again. “Tell me you missed me, Cha Cha.” 

Chancy heard her own voice as if it came from far away, muffled and almost whiny with longing. 

“I missed you, Elvis.” She continued to kiss him even as he turned his head slightly. She could feel his cheek bunch beneath her lips as he smiled, enjoying her affection. “I missed you, I missed you.” She felt his faint stubble grazed against her lips as she let them trail down his cheek and under his jaw. He was bent slightly at the knees so that she could reach, rubbing his thumb around in little circles on her back. Her awareness narrowed to only those points of sensation, the thumb circles on her back, the tingle on her lips, the warmth down her front. 

The phone started trilling. They both looked at it blankly for a second, before Elvis straightened and sighed, going to answer. 

Whatever was being said on the other end of the line irritated Elvis, he mumbled one word answers until he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. 

Without a word, he disappeared into his bathroom and left her yet again wandering around his room, running her fingers over his belongings and trying to pretend that she belonged there. She opened her new book at a random page and let her eyes trip across the words:

“That’s how you came here, like a star,

Without a name…”

She had no idea what it meant, but it sounded beautiful. She murmured it under her breath, finishing with a sharp inhale as Elvis stormed back out of his bathroom clad in a long leather coat, gloves and carrying a police flashlight. 

“C’mon, we’re getting out of here.” 

Billy was waiting at the bottom of the kitchen stairs, hands shoved into his jeans pockets. He grinned, reflecting Elvis’ smirk as they converged in the kitchen. 

“They fell for it, huh?” Elvis remarked, knocking Billy’s shoulder with his knuckles. 

“Uh huh, I told ‘em we’d meet ‘em on up ahead.” “Joe bitchin’ and whining about it, I bet,” Elvis remarked gleefully, heading towards the back door with Billy beside him. Chancy trailed them, wondering what the hell was going on. 

The wall of wet heat hit as soon as they stepped outside and Chancy shook her head as she stared at Elvis’ broad back wrapped in black leather even as she was peeling tendrils of her hair away from her damp neck and face. 

Elvis was too busy crowing over his ability to fool everyone to notice the temperature. He and Billy were joking and laughing about it as they passed the car port and continued on down towards the back gate near where Chancy had parked her car. On the road was a white Cadillac coupe with an old, black truck behind it. 

Billy tossed some keys to Elvis, who was still laughing as he got into the truck, but Billy’s smile faded as he turned away and he looked at Chancy with something close to reproach. She couldn’t think why he would be mad with her or blame her when she had no idea what was going on. He was the one going along with whatever crazy plan Elvis had come up with. 

“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” she asked nobody in particular. 

“Shh, we’re being sneaky!” Elvis whispered in an Elmer Fudd voice, leaning out the window. “C’mon, Cha Cha, get in!”  

She looked to Billy again, hoping for something that made more sense, but he had already climbed into the Cadillac and the back gate was opening. Elvis beckoned her and she hurriedly circled the truck and jumped in. 

As they pulled out into the narrow road that ran down the side of the church next door, Elvis accelerated slightly and gave the Cadillac in front a little nudge on the bumper, grinning so wide that his dimples made an appearance. 

“Uh, shouldn’t you have your lights on?” Chancy asked, goosebumps of anticipation nonetheless breaking out over her arms as she caught his infectious excitement. 

“Now that wouldn’t be very sneaky of little old us, would it.”

“Billy’s got his on.”

“Exactly!” 

Ahead of them, Billy pulled out onto the highway and faintly they could hear a few people shouting. Elvis waited, engine idling with his lights off. Chancy watched him expectantly as he tapped his thumbs on the top of the steering wheel, humming quietly under his breath. He seemed to become aware of her eyes and glanced towards her, eyes narrow and cheekbones brimming with mirth. 

“Being bad feels good, don’t it?” 

“It might, if I knew what we were doing.” He didn’t reply, just flew out onto the highway, switching on his lights at the last minute and swerving around the oncoming traffic. 

Eyes on the rear view mirror, he murmured, “I bet they’re shitting a brick right about now, man. Serves ‘em right, serves ‘em right. I tell you, boy…” 

“So we’re not going to the recording studio?” Chancy asked, mainly to remind him that she was in the car too and he didn’t need to talk to himself. 

“You catch on fast, don’t you,” he remarked, shooting her a sideways look. “Baby, what are you doing all the way over there?” He reached blindly across the bench seat and clamped a hand on her thigh, trying to drag her closer to him. She made a series of unladylike noises as she left behind half of the skin from the back of thighs on the warm leather. 

“Where are we going then?” she inquired, once she was flush against him, her forearm resting on his thigh and her cheek stuck to his coat. 

“Well…” He tailed off. “Where would you like to go?” She bit down on her lip as he made himself sound very magnanimous and not at all like he hadn’t thought his great escape plan all the way through.

“I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch,” she reasoned. “Maybe we could-” He took a sharp turn that almost sent her sprawling. “Or maybe we could not die, Elvis, how about that?!”

He snorted and glanced at her with his eyebrow quirked playfully. She swatted at him, because he knew exactly what to do to take the heat out of her irritation, leaving her with just the intellectual understanding that she should feel annoyed. 

“Poor widdle Cha Cha, all moody and mad cos she’s hungry,” he murmured in that damn baby voice again. She was about to swat him a little harder when he did a double take out of his side window. “Hey, you know, I ran out of gas there one time.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, back when I was starting out. It was one of the first times it got really crazy, boy. The cops had to come out and everything. It was wild.”

“Uh huh, getting a ride in the back of a police car to the gas station is not something you ever forget. Especially after I got back and some girl called me your whore.”

Chancy watched his face as his brain worked overtime, recalling the little details that he usually airbrushed from the patter he gave his dates as he took them on a personal tour of his home town, like who else had been there.

“They called you a whore?” he echoed finally, focusing on the detail where he had no culpability. “I didn't know that.”

“Well, it wasn't something I would've wanted to repeat.” 

It had been the first time she had been the victim of jealous, spiteful resentment, but not nearly the last. She shook her head like she could dislodge the echoes of embarrassment, hurt and outrage she had felt. 

“Besides, you didn’t even remember I was there!” She smacked his leg and turned away slightly, playing at being mad. 

“Honey, I did! I-I remember, I was just testing you!” 

“Uh huh,” she murmured. “Well, I guess I passed.” 

“With flying colours,” He hit her with a poorly aimed kiss on the ear as he steered the truck into a parking lot. Chancy glanced around and realised he had pulled into Dairy Queen. 

“You do take me to the fanciest places,” she teased, already moving to climb out. 

“Well, I only know of two ways to get you out of this mood you’re in,” he returned with irritating insight. “One’s food and the other… Well, we’re in public, honey, you know.” She felt so much better about the shiver she had to fight back when she saw that, despite the naughty look on his face, he had gone pink. 

“You are terrible,” she informed him. “Hey, where are you going?” He paused as he pushed open his door.

“There’s only one way out,” he replied, looking bemused. 

“You can’t go in there!” she exclaimed, then wanted to rewind time and roll her tongue back in, because the one way to guarantee Elvis would do something was to tell him that he couldn’t. “Baby, you don’t have any of the guys with you. It’s not safe.” 

“It’s late, Cha Cha, I’m not letting you go in there by yourself,” he returned. Then, she witnessed the exact same expression of regret cover his face that must have shone from hers moments before. Because telling her that she wasn’t allowed to do something was like firing a starting pistol. 

“It’s not exactly Times Square.”

“I don’t give a damn. Cha Cha, honey, you got all kinds of characters out there now, crazy sonsofbitches and losers strung out on all these fucking drugs they’re pushing on the streets. Baby- Baby, you don’t understand because you don’t know what it’s really like.” She bristled at the condescending tone and folded her arms over her grumbling stomach. 

“Well, then it’s not safe for either of us.” 

After ten minutes of silent sulking and hunger, they came to a compromise. Chancy would go in and order the food, and Elvis would park as close as possible with his gun ready just in case. 

As silly as she knew all that was, Chancy still felt tingles of apprehension as she pulled on the metal bar and opened the door.

At that time of the evening, the place was full of teenagers hanging out and families grabbing a treat on the way home from the movies. None of them really spared her a look apart from a few pleasant smiles as she made her way to the counter. 

Not long later, she was juggling a sack and two milkshakes and stopped to thank a man who had jumped up to hold the door for her. He smiled back, nodding at her chest rather than her face. 

Turning towards the truck, she let out a little gasp as she saw a small knot of people standing by the driver’s door. Her heart hammering, she glanced towards the phone booth at the front of the parking lot, wondering if she would have to make a call to Graceland to get someone out to help. 

As she drew closer, she saw that it was just an older couple and their children. As long as they made a getaway before they attracted any more attention they would be okay. 

When she climbed in the cab, Elvis was signing a scrap of paper, what looked like a receipt, and he handed it over, ruffling the young son on the head. Chancy kept her head down so as not to attract notice. The only problem was that the family did not seem satisfied with the autograph and small talk and lingered, forcing Elvis to say that they had to leave. They even took a few steps forward as he backed out, like they were going to follow them on foot. 

“Just can’t stay out of trouble for a minute, can you,” she remarked, handing him his milkshake. 

“Well, you were gone so damn long,” he complained, spilling a little of the shake on his pants as he tried to negotiate the road. “Goddamn it! She quickly retrieved the paper cup before it was thrown, possibly at her. He was still swearing as he pulled into a rest area, the frosty drink slowly trickling into uncomfortable places. 

Seeing his mood souring, she grabbed a napkin from the sack but hid it at her side. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” she exclaimed brightly, ducking her head down towards his lap. 

“Chancy, no!” His voice went impossibly high, breathless and panicked. 

She burst out laughing, she couldn’t help it, and tossed the napkin at him as she collapsed against the back of the seat, gasping and giggling, wiping her eyes. She tried to get herself under control as he irritably wiped at his pants with the napkin, muttering under his breath, but every time she looked at him, all kitted out in his flashy badass outfit, she kept hearing his panicked protest like he was a sweet virgin being propositioned by an over amorous date. 

“Don’t see what’s so goddamn funny,” he snapped. “My fucking pants are ruined.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice quivering very slightly as she bit on the inside of her cheek. “I…” She started laughing again and he smacked the steering wheel and started the engine, shaking his head. “No, baby, no, I’m sorry!” She lifted her milkshake and tipped it slightly as if she was going to dump the whole thing in her own lap. “Look, you give me the word and we’ll match. Want me to?” 

A fast diesel truck rattling by startled her and she jerked slightly, causing a large drop to splat onto her bare leg. 

“Damn, that’s cold!” she hissed. His eyes twinkled and a slow smile crept across his face. She realised that there was a very real possibility that he was about to knock the cup over her and almost resigned herself to it. 

“You’re crazy, you know that,” he remarked, before very slowly and deliberately leaning down and licking the milkshake from her thigh. He punctuated that by opening his mouth and pretending to take a bite of her, his teeth leaving a faint imprint in her pale skin under the light of the cab. Holding her breath, Chancy now understood how fish felt drowning on dry land.

They ate their food at the rest stop without much chat. Elvis was still mad at her for laughing at him. It was always a sore point for him, and she sensed that he was embarrassed by his unfiltered reaction to the idea of her going down on him in public. He always loved to give off the impression that he was unflappable, that there was no boundary that he would not push and no impulse he would not indulge, but that wasn’t true. Not really.  

Licking the salt from her fingers, she leant up and kissed his cheek as he chewed the last of his third burger. He didn’t reciprocate, but nor did he move away, just looked out the window at the shadowy brush. She stuffed the wrappers into the empty sack and slid a little closer to him, her bent knees knocking into his thigh. 

Rising on her knees, she nudged her nose into the hair at his temple, pressing butterfly kisses into his skin, catching her lip on the arm of his sunglasses. His fingers tapped on the ledge of his open window, almost like she was keeping him from a more pressing appointment, and she wondered if his mood had sunk too low to be recovered. She started to draw back, but the firm line of his arm just behind her shoulders stopped her retreat. 

She studied him, looking down from his turned cheek to where the tendon in his neck was just visible above his turned-up collar as he craned his head away from her. Almost tentatively, she pressed her lips against it, feeling his pulse pounding beneath the salty skin. She lapped at it with tiny kitten licks until he jerked away, trying to hide his smile.  

Leaning forward, he started the engine and pulled back out onto the road, executing a neat u-turn so that they were heading north. 

“Where are we going now?”

“Gotta get you back to the nuthouse before they send out the guys with straitjackets,” he replied, shooting her a sly grin. 

“Uh huh, I’m sure it’d be me they were looking for,” she replied, settling herself down at his side. He just kept smiling, dropping his hand into her lap and entwining their fingers. That didn’t last long, because he had to keep twiddling the dial of the radio every time the deejay started talking. 

“Wasn’t that George?” she asked, as he abruptly twisted the knob again, muttering a curse word. “I don’t care who it was,” he snapped. “Don’t talk over the goddamn song. What’s the point of them even playing songs if they’re gonna-” He let out some high pitched gibberish that sounded like an irate chipmunk after sucking helium. 

“So, where’s next on the famous Elvis’ hometown tour?” “Aw, honey, there’s no…” He didn’t even bother finishing his lie. “There ain’t no point showing you, you know more about it than I do. I ever end up writing that book about my life, you’ll be there…’No, Elvis, it didn’t happen like that, I was there.’” She shook her head at his usual high-pitched impression of her. 

“The two of us in rocking chairs, me trying to edit every story,” she added. “In my head, you’re old when you’re writing this life story.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she had basically admitted that she pictured them together when they were old. That was giving away too much and also trying to take too little. 

If he noticed her embarrassment or thought that the idea of them being together when they were old was far-fetched, he didn’t show it, huffing a laugh as he guided them back through more familiar streets. “We’re going back? So soon?” She thought of all the people back at the house, likely some annoyed employees and some tense phone calls to be made. She wondered if they would get to sneak out like this again during her stay, and considered that plans would probably be put in place to stop that happening. 

“Well,” he bounced a closed fist against the inside of the truck door. “I gotta change my damn pants and… It seems like you might still be in a bad mood, honey. I think it might be time to try the second thing.”

Tag lIst: @richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber , @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters , @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics , @eliseinmemphis @lookingforrainbows , @stylespresleyhearted , @amydarcimarie , @returntopresley, @savedrebelcreation, @lettersfromvenus , @littlehoneyposts, @joshuntildawn13, @i-r-i-n-a-a, @from-memphis-with-love, @ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny

[littlefeltsparrow]

Rhysand and Feyre offering Nesta a choice between the House of Wind and the human lands was them absolving themselves of having to explicitly state that they intended to imprison Nesta.

They give her a choice in a technical sense, when we define choice as “an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.” But, this style of negotiation Rhysand and Feyre use is distinctly skewed as it attempts to disguise itself as fair, when it is anything but that. It’s not so much of a choice when the options presented to you are functionally identical. In Nesta’s case, each option would result in her isolation and imprisonment where she would be at the mercy of individuals like Cassian and the Inner Circle.

Therefore, a fundamental question is raised: If it wasn’t a choice to begin with, why did Rhysand and Feyre frame it as such?

The answer to that question lies in the underlying facade of the Night Court’s leadership. Rhysand distinguishes himself from Tamlin by way of his emphasis on giving women free will and autonomy. While it is not the only thing that distinguishes him, it is a very persuasive quality in him that sets him apart from the rampant misogyny in Prythian. This promise of autonomy attracts powerful individuals such as Feyre, Elain and Morrigan to become parts of the court and contribute to its success and power. But, the guarantee of autonomy comes with one stipulation and that is that it’s dependant on Rhysand’s authorization.

Truthfully, any will of these female characters can be overridden by Rhysand’s say, but his facade depends on the fact that he must keep that stipulation as hidden as possible. So, he obscures this by giving people choices that are distorted or leading, absolving himself of forcing them to do what he wants while also pretending that whatever outcome occurs next came as a result of their own free will. He will never explicitly tell Nesta that he wants to isolate and imprison her, but he implicitly accomplishes the same thing by exerting peer pressure over her and only giving her one true option for her future. This strategy keeps these powerful individuals close by, but does not let them affect any change that Rhysand doesn’t want.

On the other hand, Feyre frames this Hobson’s choice as a legitimate strategy for dealing with Nesta because she most likely does not want to acknowledge that she is implicitly forcing Nesta into something. Feyre herself dealt with being forcefully imprisoned in her previous relationship, an event that traumatized her and wrecked that relationship permanently. As such, telling Nesta outright of her intentions to lock her up is something she simply cannot reckon with.

Feyre tries to soften the impact by saying that Nesta will not be technically imprisoned as she can leave the HOW whenever she wants, except she’ll have to complete an arduous climb in order to do so. Imagine if I threw a person into an 8ft deep hole and then said: “Don’t worry! I’m not imprisoning you because you can leave the hole whenever you like! (if you can climb out of it that is…)” This allows Feyre to assuage her guilt and reassure herself that she’s being fair to Nesta while also absolving herself of having to overtly force Nesta into the HOW.

[kiiyunz]

posted⠀by⠀junjiie⠀⠀⸻⠀⠀8th April,⠀2O24.

No-one’s journey through idol life is going to be all sunshine & rainbows, and that’s a fact I think we should all make peace with as soon as possible. If you’re going to type out a comment screaming bloody murder about how your favourite’s whole career has been nothing but shiny and perfect, then all I have to say to you is that I’m sure there’s been a whole number of not-shiny and not-perfect things going on when the cameras are off. Sorry. It’s just the truth. Probably. But I’m not here to talk about your favourite, I’m here to talk about mine. So, without further ado, strap yourself in for a run-down of IM KIHYUN throughout the years of NCT DREAM’s career—ranked on a three point scale: the GOOD, the BAD, and of course, the REALLY, REALLY UGLY.

CHEWING GUM (2016)⠀⠀fruit punch & bubble mixture

15-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN had three lines in their debut single, a yellow hoverboard, and a dream—literally, considering the name of his unit. He was every bit the mood maker most people know him as today, filled to the brim with excitement and a sense of self-confidence that some people may have thought he would’ve lacked. While he hadn’t fully settled into himself just yet, still had voice cracks, and acne breakouts he’d stubbornly refuse to be filmed with while suffering through, and bouts of clumsiness that would leave him with bruises all over his elbows and plasters on his knees, for the most part it felt like he was an experienced performer rather than a just-arrived rookie. Most people immediately took a liking to him, and although his popularity wasn’t as sky-high as some of his fellow members, the fans he did have were a force to be reckoned with right from the start.

But whether you loved him or hated him, the one thing that everyone seemed to take notice of was the way he just looked like he loved performing on every single occasion, putting everything he had into every stage even with the little amount of time he was given to show off both himself & his budding talent to the people watching. His stage presence was compared to a breath of fresh air on a summer’s day, the wide grin he aimed at the cameras at any given opportunity one that aimed to brighten the mood of anyone witnessing it, and the enthusiasm with which he delivered his lines was something that even the harshest of critics could give a nod of acknowledgement to. Altogether, it’s widely agreed that CHEWING GUM for Kihyun was a GOOD era, on our three point scale.

(MY) FAVOURITE MOMENT: ⠀MU-BEYOND

Kihyun very obviously and very fiercely despising the way his hair was styled for one of the photoshoots, and making no attempt to hide it. As soon as the camera flashes stopped, gone was his sunshine smile, and in its place was a look that, if they could kill, would have put the photographer six feet under (even if the poor man would’ve had no say in how it was styled in the first place). While a few of the other members were enjoying themselves on the glossy pink bouncing balls they were perched on, as soon as it was announced they were done Kihyun was shooting up and making a runner for the bathroom, shooting the camera a glare and tugging on a few strands of his hair as he went. Chenle could be seen cracking up in the near background, creased over from the force of his laughter. Kihyun yelled something back at him, but whatever it was was drowned out by the editors with the persistent ‘Chew-chew-chew-chew chewing gum’ over the top of the footage, seemingly growing a little louder in order to hide his words.

THE FIRST (2017)⠀⠀bad hair & basketball

(STILL) 15-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN had blue frosted tips and a tendency to get distracted on the music video set, far more interested in shooting hoops than dancing around in the school-band like outfit they were being made to wear and singing about being in head-over-heels in love with his teacher. He was still every bit the bust of energy he was previously, still throwing his all into everything he did, but it was obvious to some he’d rather be doing other things if he could. The whole riding-cardboard-cars-around was something he loved, though, and he stated more than once that was his favourite part by a mile. Kihyun was mostly the same as he was during the CHEWING GUM era in terms of performance, confidence, and the like—although it was noted by most that there was a little less of his occasional clumsiness, more stability in himself than there was previously. His popularity grew alongside the group’s, his consistent charm and apparent natural talent to draw people in appealing to many a new fan.

He slowly began to make more of a presence online during the MY FIRST AND LAST era, also. Posting both little messages and various photos of himself & the members (mainly in embarrassing positions, such as being half-asleep or making weird faces) on Twitter, interacting with fans whenever he could, and dragging out conversations for as long as he was allowed at fansigns, until the poor person in front of him was practically dragged along to the next member. And when there were more sides of him being shown to the public (and the internet, especially), there were more people waiting to pick apart every piece of him. While his popularity grew, the amount of people against him shot up in numbers, too. It wasn’t overwhelmingly bad, but there were a fair few who accused him of trying to take the spotlight too often, or being ungrateful for the opportunities he was being given after they’d heard the few comments he’d made here and there about the comeback’s concept not being his favourite. Still, despite these lower moments, there were still more pros than cons, and so MY FIRST AND LAST is another era ranked GOOD for Kihyun.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MFAL FIRST WIN

He was so caught up in tugging at the various buttons and pins stuck onto his ugly blazer that he barely heard the MC announcing their win until all the other members were jumping around and crying and patting each other on the back. Kihyun himself didn’t cry until backstage, when it finally hit him properly that they’d actually won, so in the moment he was more so just a little confused and dazed than anything else as he celebrated with the rest, not-so-subtly trying to take the trophy out of Mark’s hands while he made his speech so he could get a better look at it, wrapping Jeno in a hug so tight it left them both wheezing, trying to jump on Jisung’s back in an attempt to get him to cheer up, and also making a whole host of excited gestures and faces over at the members of 127 across the stage.

WE YOUNG  (2017)⠀⠀fun  in  the  sun!

KIHYUN (NOW 16) loved every second of this era, and that was something you could make out from space. Even with his now-pink-streaked hair and sailor outfits they were being made to wear, he declared the music from the WE YOUNG era as his favourite thus far. It was just pure fun, simple as that. He enjoyed every performance they did, sang all his lines with a grin so wide it nearly split his lips, was as playful as ever with all the members, and simply let loose a little more, losing himself in the music rather than what people were saying about it. Despite him not overly loving the whole sailor concept, fans were of the opinion that he was one of the ones that pulled it off the best, and so he begrudgingly posted photos of him in the get-up as often as he could—to an overwhelmingly positive response every time. The public noticed that, while still not fully grown, Kihyun’s self-confidence seemed to be at an all-time-high. He really did look like he was just happy to be there, and his supporters couldn’t have been more glad about it.

What also made his fans happy was his amount of lines getting a boost. He’d consistently been receiving around three or four, five at a stretch, but now it was reaching into the sixes and sevens—which, really, was barely an upgrade, but it made a world of difference to fans of his. It gave him more of a chance to show off his vocal ability, and brought more attention to him from both the public & critics. It also just made him happy, to be able to spend more than ten minutes in the recording studio, to be given more of a chance to show off how he’d grown and improved so far (even if he still thought he had a ways to go before he reached the level of his role models, his own idols). WE YOUNG was yet another GOOD era for Kihyun by miles, with barely any pitfalls in sight, and probably his highest so far.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀COMEBACK SHOWCASE

He was jumping all over the stage throughout every performance, throwing everything he had (and probably more) into every line he sang and every move he executed. It was clear he was trying his hardest to contain himself, trying not to scream every one of his lines into the mic or trip himself up, but it was also clear he was struggling. He was also as clingy as anything towards the rest, always hanging off of someone’s back or linking their arms together while they were walking. There was never a shot of him without a smile on his face, never anything he did that made it feel like he’d rather be elsewhere. His enthusiasm and excitement was almost infectious, leaking out of the screen to put a smile on the face of whoever was watching along.

WE GO UP  (2018)⠀⠀breakdancing  &  beanies

NEARLY-ADULT (AKA.. 17-YEAR-OLD) KIHYUN seemed to be reaching for maturity a little too fast, fingers outstretched towards his eighteenth birthday and desperate for the months to pass by just a little faster. He had decided, somewhere along the line, that he was ready to be rid of the cuter concept the group was intended to present, and was more than ready for a switch-up. And while WE GO UP wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for, there was certainly less of the more childish aspects that were seen in their previous releases—which was both an acknowledgement of all the members growing older and also something that served as a reminder of Mark’s upcoming graduation from the group, which Kihyun would’ve rather done anything but think about. Still, while he didn’t put as much of his all into it as he had done in the past, he still put a fair amount of effort into the lines he was given (which were lessened once again, to the disappointment of many) and choreography they were made to learn. Fans noted that his personal style was beginning to develop in the WE GO UP era, their suspicions of Kihyun dressing himself confirmed when he mentioned here and there that most of his non-schedule outfits were his own.

The introduction of Bubble helped to boost Kihyun’s online presence, something that had fluctuated from era-to-era thus far (his highest amount of interactions previously being within the MY FIRST AND LAST era), and while he didn’t use it all the time, he still made an effort to communicate regularly with those who’d signed up when he could. He shared his inner reasonings on his online presence with those who were asking—saying that if he didn’t like the concept of the comeback too much he would compensate by being online and able to interact more. It’s a rule he’s mostly stuck with over the years, and fans have now said it’s easy to tell when Kihyun hates a concept because they’ll wake up with three new Twitter posts and ten times as many Bubble updates. So on the whole, although it was definitely on the lower end of the spectrum, WE GO UP is considered yet another GOOD era for Kihyun—making that a four-long streak (that—apologies for spoilers—was going to be broken fairly soon).

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀FIRST SOLO LIVE

It was, to put it plainly, a little bit all over the place. He held it in his dorm room, half asleep but still managing to be every bit the charismatic personality most people knew and loved him for. He answered any questions threw at him with total honesty, didn’t hold his tongue when talking about various subjects that others may have (namely his personal thoughts & opinions on the comeback as whole—this live was where many found out he didn’t like it as much as they thought he did), and also showed a side to him that the majority hadn’t been able to see as much of before. He gave song recommendations, spoke about those who inspired him—both in a music and fashion sense—and altogether shared lots of fun facts that had been unknown to most previously.

WE BOOM  (2019)⠀⠀radio  silence

18-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN was noticeably.. Different. While Mark’s graduation had hit all of the remaining seven hard, the other six still at least pushed on and tried to act as if things were fine as normal, carrying on as most expected them to. Kihyun, however, had seemed to undergo a complete personality shift. He was withdrawn, quieter than he’d ever been—barely offering anything up in conversations or interviews even when prompted, barely any footage of him in behind-the-scenes content because he made next to no contributions to it; always preferring to stay in the background, on his phone with his headphones on and trying to ignore the cameras following them around. Public opinion of him was also beginning to slip further into the red, following leaked photos of him at an undisclosed individual’s party getting cosy with an unnamed and non-idol slightly older male just after the release of the mini-album—photos that went unaddressed by both the company and Kihyun himself. His name was starting to grow in infamy rather than popularity, but the boy himself didn’t really seem to care.

All traces of Kihyun on social media seemed to go completely cold, barely any updates from him that weren’t group photos or content. From the whole era there were a measly two Twitter posts from him, and his Bubble subscribers got refunded more often than not. But while he was refraining from making any posts, news websites and anonymous users were more than happy to leak more and more photos of him—always with the same boy, always at a party, or at a club, or just generally anywhere that looked a little shady to the hundreds of thousands that saw it. Rumours began to spread about a drinking problem, about a shady boyfriend, about countless things that painted Kihyun in a type of light that he’d previously avoided like the plague, but Kihyun himself made no attempt to defend himself, and so they only got wilder. It’s unanimously decided that the BOOM is the first (but certainly not the last) of Kihyun’s BAD eras.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀JENO LIVE

The then-blonde took it upon himself to disregard all the rumours spreading about his dongsaeng—although not in a direct way. He was careful with his words, as well-spoken as he always is, but made sure to especially shut down the accusations of Kihyun turning into some reckless party animal, taking the former leader’s graduation so bad he turned to less-than-ideal ways to cope. “Kyunnie isn’t like that, and never will be,” was what he told his audience, and many noted the flat look on his face. After the captain had, many of the others took their turn to come to Kihyun’s defence—mostly always with vague comments, but statements nonetheless. Chenle’s response in particular was deemed to be one of the most direct, replying to a comment while on live with a simple “You don’t know Kihyun like that” and then ending the live not long afterwards, leaving the conversation at that and somewhat encouraging the people speculating to do the same.

RELOAD  (2020)⠀⠀cliff  drops  &  harmful  habits

NOW 19, KIHYUN seemed to be at something of his lowest point thus far. While he made more public appearances, more attempts to join in with behind-the-scenes content (or just extra content in general), most concluded it was the result of management telling him he had to, rather that Kihyun himself choosing to do so—and his return only gave more opportunities for those looking to find all the things wrong with the once-charismatic & energy-filled vocalist. And to make matters worse for him, more information had been dug up on his newfound non-idol friends (or rather, the one boy in particular that everyone wanted to know about). Oh Jinwoo, he had been discovered to be called, something of an influencer-like figure known more often than not for his whole host of partners over the years and tendency to get mixed in with the wrong crowd. You could say that you could only imagine what this did to Kihyun’s public image (which was practically halfway ruined by that point already), but there was no need for imagination—practically everyone witnessed his fall from the (mostly Korean) public’s good books, yet nobody could do anything about it. It felt like every day there was another article released leaking more photos and spreading more rumours about whatever dark web Kihyun was tangling himself in, but still the company made no move to stop them. 

It was also during the RIDIN era that Kihyun was rumoured to have started up the habit of smoking, with (albeit blurry) photos released to support the claims. This did absolutely nothing to help his reputation, tanking it further. His future was starting to look a little uncertain, questions being raised over whether his actions as of lately would warrant either a hiatus or removal from the group completely. He might’ve delivered all his lines as fine as normal, danced along with the rest in the same practised & efficient manner he always did, but talent didn’t mean much when placed on a scale against damaging the whole group’s image, rather than just his own. When people began to turn their nasty comments and endless gossip onto the other members, Kihyun was starting to look like more of a hindrance than a crucial member. It is, without a doubt, agreed by all that RIDIN was a REALLY, REALLY UGLY era.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀KIHYUN LIVE

It was short, it was vague, and it was still very obvious he was nowhere near to feeling like his normal self, but Kihyun himself did come forward to address a few things—mainly the smoking incident, which he admitted to be true and said that while he was trying to put a stop to it completely, habits like that were hard to quit. After the negative comments began to override the positive & supportive ones, he was quick to shut it off again and return to what was becoming his frighteningly normal status of radio silent. Still, it was something—and far more than anything SM gave, at that. Other members were also quick to dismiss or shut down any comments they saw on their own lives discussing Kihyun and his future of the group, all that they said mostly being along the simple and short lines of “Kihyun’s staying with us” and not elaborating any further.

HOT SAUCE  (2021)⠀⠀a start

20 YEARS OF AGE. Mark was back, their permanence as a group was finally confirmed, the graduation system having been abolished, and all eight of them were together again. After five whole years of being active they were finally releasing a full album, and getting the chance to do it the way they all wanted. But while things were happier in that regard, Kihyun’s situation was far from forgotten. Fans of his were relieved nothing had been done about his place in the group—even if a few solo stans wanted him out just as much as those who hated him did, for the sake of his own wellbeing rather than them holding any ill-will towards the other members—but public opinion of him was still mostly in the red. Things were again starting to feel like they were hitting a dead-end: with Kihyun’s presence sort of.. Drifting. Sometimes he’d be absent for a group live, sometimes he’d go silent on all social media for weeks with his only comeback usually being his presence in the background of another member’s photos. Everything was looking just as uncertain as they had during the RIDIN era—until Kihyun once again started a solo live with the simple title of ‘an explanation’ and proceeded to do just that: explain.

Most suspected he didn’t divulge all the details, but the run-down was this: he’d met Jinwoo at some party or other, and they’d gotten just as close as all the leaked photos and gossipy articles made them out to be (although, again, some thought them to be far closer). He’d led Kihyun into a little bit of a rebellious era, what he called his ‘chance to be young and reckless’ since he’d mostly missed out on it, what with all his years of both diligent training & as an active idol. While he admitted on the broadcast that it was fun for a while, he was also realising the damage it was doing to both himself & his fellow members, so attempted to cut contact with his newfound friend—to no avail, for a few months, as they had more than a few periods of arguments both over the phone and in person. He said he’d only officially completely cut Jinwoo off a few weeks before the live, and shared with something of a wistful smile that he didn’t plan to get in touch with him any more now that he was gone. His viewers were overjoyed to hear this, and the members shared the sentiment—but Kihyun still had a ways to go before he was back to being a generally accepted fan-favourite. Despite him taking his first steps towards being back to his usual self, HOT SAUCE is still considered a BAD era for the vocalist.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MARK INSTAGRAM POST

It was a three-slide-long affair that was posted not too long after Kihyun’s live. The first was a selfie of himself & a sleeping Kihyun, one of the rapper’s arms gently holding the vocalist to his side while he grinned wide into the camera. The second, a solo shot of Kihyun’s face up close to the camera, tongue out and peace sign just barely visible in one of the corners, what with most of the frame being taken up by the odd expression he was pulling. The third slide was a short video, only ten seconds or so long, of Kihyun and him on the dorm’s sofa, the audio consisting the tail-end of Mark’s voice making a joke mostly unintelligible to the viewers that was quickly followed by Kihyun’s pure & unfiltered laughter as he cracked up at whatever the Dream leader had said. He was creased over, one hand repeatedly hitting Mark’s knee as the other held his stomach, breath coming out in jerky and uneven gasps as he tried to recover. The caption was made up of two words: ‘my KD.’ 

HELLO FUTURE  (2021)⠀⠀cotton  candy  &  back  to  normal

STILL 20, BUT NOW SEEMING MUCH HAPPIER, by the time HELLO FUTURE era rolled around Kihyun felt to most like he’d healed fully from what had then been a period a month shy of two years worth of the continuous cycle of being somewhat of a public enemy. People thought it was the combination of getting the truth about all that had happened off his chest, the continuous support of his members both in Dream and in NCT as a whole, and the seemingly infectious happy mood that came with the HELLO FUTURE era that managed to finally get Kihyun back on his feet, and with him he was bringing performances reminiscent of how full of joy and excited he’d been during the WE YOUNG era, smile wide on his face in every shot and dancing filled to the brim with passion. He even made more of an effort to make appearances on social media—contradictory to the rule he’d made during the WE GO UP era of only being constantly online during concepts he wasn’t too fond of. He gave happy little updates every once in a while, paired with smiling selcas both alone & with the other members, was as talkative as most remembered him to be before what some had started to dub ‘the dark ages’ during any group lives they held, and even crashed a few of the member’s solo lives every now and again.

His change was noticed easily, and was one that began to slowly turn the tides of public opinion on him once again. The comments made about him being someone who was bringing the group down and ruining their reputation with his recklessness were slowly lessening, being replaced with positive ones, and soon enough his popularity was starting to grow again, instead of the countless hate trains and calls for him to be kicked out. Kihyun was well on the way (if not mostly there already) to being completely fine again, even apparently feeling well enough to make more than a few jokes at his own expense here and there about staying far, far away from any parties held by a friend-of-a-friend in the future. HELLO FUTURE was the light (or rather.. Rainbow?) at the end of the tunnel for Kihyun, and so it was considered his first GOOD era after the nearly two years of BAD (with one REALLY, REALLY UGLY, at his lowest) ones.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MV REACTION

Kihyun was seated next to Chenle, which could only really mean trouble—as it always did whenever the pair were within two metres of one another. They were cracking jokes every two seconds, falling all over one another with laughter and unable to shut up for even a minute. The rest paused the video more times to tell them to keep it together than they did for them to comment on anything actually happening in the MV, but you could tell from a mile away that they didn’t really mind in the slightest, more happy to see Kihyun laughing and smiling again than anything. They also all made sure to cheer the loudest when the vocalist’s solo scene appeared on screen, and then proceeded to (lovingly) make fun of him when his ears uncharacteristically went bright red at the praise being showered upon him, although he tried to get over it quickly and return back to his self-confidence-filled self.

GLITCH MODE  (2022)⠀⠀video  games  &  b-boying-in-progress

NOW FULLY BACK ON TRACK (& FRESHLY 21), Kihyun was ready to throw his all into their second full album. He was as good as new, his overwhelming feeling of excitement for every track recorded and released as clear as day. He even (again) broke his no-contact rule a few times just to relay how much he thought fans were going to love the album, posting spoilers as often as possible and revealing as much as he could get away with before it dropped. When it was released, he was practically talking about it non stop, chattering away on all platforms about the styling, the stages, the music, how fun it was, how much he was enjoying himself—the list went on. He declared the GLITCH MODE era to be his favourite, point blank, no matter how much he liked anything they would go on to release in the future. Public opinion of him was mostly completely smoothed over by that point, and his personal fan base was growing with every passing piece of content that was released. He seemed at his complete happiest, throwing everything he had and more into every single thing he did during promotions & extra content.

The GLITCH MODE era was also when he opened his personal Instagram account, his first post being a picture of him and Jeno glued to each other’s sides in a setting people assumed to be the SM building, with the caption ‘my favourite colleague.’ His follower count rose quickly, and is currently sitting at a comfortable 4.8M, mostly in the middle of Jisung and Chenle’s own numbers. Since then his account has become a home to photos that at times feel more like an exhibition of all the other Dream members (and his closer friends from the other units also) than anything involving himself, nonsensical lives that usually occur at the early hours of the morning where Kihyun—either alone or together with whoever decides to either join the live or join Kihyun himself wherever he’s holding it—has free reign to chatter on about whatever he pleases, although most of the time when he’s alone it turns into an impromptu radio hour where he takes the chance to talk about his favourite recent albums & artists, as well as listening to any recommendations his viewers give him. Slowly beginning to recover his streak, GLITCH MODE is seen as another GOOD era for Kihyun.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MV BEHIND

Kihyun had decided that he was going to properly get into breakdancing during the GLITCH MODE era, and saw no better place than his solo interview moment in the behind-the-scenes video to show off the moves he’d begun to learn. At first he just spoke about how excited he was for the comeback, with Mark hanging off of his back and chiming in with comments of his own here and there, but after a couple minutes of that he was shrugging the leader off of him and telling the camera to “Watch this!” before launching into an impromptu downrock routine while Mark watched on in horror, looking a little like he was on the verge of a seizure even if Kihyun was perfectly fine. He also tried to do a headstand, and by that point Jeno had also wandered over to see what all the fuss was about, and viewers had the pleasure of watching both the leader and captain attempt to stop Kihyun from giving himself a concussion—the latter looking like he was about to burst into tears, and the former looking as if he was seconds away from collapsing.

BEATBOX (2022)⠀⠀boomboxes & makeshift english lessons

21, AND, IN HIS WORDS, “IN HIS PRIME,” the vocalist & dancer took to BEATBOX like a duck to water. While it wasn’t a huge favourite of his, he still liked it well enough and had enough fun on both the sets of the music video and all the photoshoots that accompanied the release to make up for it. The choreography was also a favourite for him in particular, and he practised it so much he could be seen absently dancing along to it whenever he stood still for too long in almost all of the extra content both before & after the release. It was practically ingrained in him, all of it coming to him like muscle memory. He swore up and down he could do the BEATBOX choreo tied up and blindfolded by the end of the era, although he was far from complaining, dragging every idol he vaguely knew (and even ones he hadn’t even introduced himself to) to do the challenge with him backstage at all the music shows they attended. Hardly anyone was safe from Kihyun’s pleading eyes and charming smile, and fans joked they’d seen more of Kihyun on TikTok doing dance challenges than they had seen him on any other platform from all of his past eras combined.

He was also noted for his sudden unexpected closeness with Jaemin in the BEATBOX era. While they were far from just acquaintances, and had expressed their shared love for one another multiple times in the past (even after their not-really-fight they’d shared in their trainee years, the story of which Kihyun had retold during a live with Jeno and could barely get though sentences of without laughing at how ridiculous it sounded all those years later), he just seemed a little closer, a little clingier in all of the behind-the-scenes content; hanging off of his arm or dragging im off somewhere to talk about something or other. When asked about it somewhere, he simply shrugged with a big grin on his face. “I just like Jaemin-hyung,” was all he said at the time, but later in an Instagram post of the two on the set of the music video he had written the caption ‘please give me lots of love—and lots of followers too!’ with a whole array of heart emojis to accompany it, to which Jaemin commented with a lot of laughter and promising he’d bring his dongsaeng all the Instagram fame he seemed to desire. Now most definitely building his streak back up, BEATBOX was a GOOD era for Kihyun all-around.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀UNBOXING BEATBOX ALBUM

Sat with Donghyuck, Renjun, and Mark, Kihyun was tearing off the cellophane packaging of the album before the rest could even greet the camera, practically desperate to look through the photobook and (most importantly, so he could add it to his ever-growing collection of all the photocards he owned of his fellow members) see who he’d pulled. He yelled out in delight and brandished his brand-new Jaemin PC at the camera, before almost immediately pulling out his phone and prying off the case to slip it into the back of it (covering up the GLITCH MODE era Mark he’d pulled the last time they’d done an unboxing, much to the leader’s dismay). After that was done with, he started spending an unnecessarily long amount of time pouring over each page of the photobook, trying to think of English adjectives to describe them with and then distracting Mark from his own unboxing in order to get him to whisper them in his ear when he couldn’t think of how to translate them. ‘Hot’ and Jaemin’s practically-trademarked ‘Sexy’ was what he ended up coming out with the most.

CANDY  (2022)⠀⠀earmuffs  &  christmas  karaoke

CHRISTMAS AT 21 was a very merry affair for Kihyun. He was as festive as could be, even wrangling Renjun and Jisung into buying a fake tree for their dorm that he decorated in a (very chaotic, and very loud) Christmas live a few days before the release of the EP. That seemed like the extent of his social media updates, though, only really appearing after that in group Twitter posts or lives (or occasionally the background of another member’s picture)—but this wasn’t all bad, seeing as it confirmed to most that he enjoyed the colourful and fun winter concept they were going with for the release. The only other real proper online presence he had was the random flurry of Bubble messages his subscribers would receive concerning his ranting and raving about his personal favourites from H.O.T.’s discography, seeing as he took it upon himself to listen to more of them because it was one of their songs they were remaking. Fans took delight in Kihyun’s wide smiles and overall joyful mannerism as he delivered lines about leaving his partner for another, saying his always-cheerful disposition made his performance of the title track all the more enjoyable.

In behind-the-scenes & extra content, Kihyun’s Christmas spirit felt infectious to viewers. There wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t belting out the lyrics to Christmas classics from all countries (even if he had to hold his phone up to Mark’s face on occasion and get him to help him with the pronunciation of some of the lyrics), or dancing around to something only he could hear in his head, or picking up some of the fake-snow they sprinkled around on a few of their sets and chucking it in Chenle’s face before sprinting in the other direction while the Chinese vocalist immediately gave chase, and the rest could only stand and watch it all play out. Now matching his previous four-long streak, CANDY is agreed to be yet another GOOD era for the vocalist.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀PACKING CANDY ALBUM

He was in Mark, Jisung, and Chenle’s group, and spent most of the time chucking baubles at Chenle, trying to balance the various items placed before them on the table on Jisung’s head & shoulders without him noticing, and steadily making his way through the whole rack of Chupa Chups sitting right beside him unattended rather than doing anything with the actual box in front of him. Mark took over the job for him in the end, leaving him to pretty much do whatever he pleased in the meantime (one of those things was repaying the favour Mark did him by tying him in bows with the ribbon that their boxes had come wrapped in, the leader making faces while he did so but doing absolutely nothing to stop him at the same time).

ISTJ (2023)⠀⠀mbti fraud & impulse decisions

22-YEAR-OLD-KIHYUN was as energetic as ever, full of ideas and eager to get all of them heard. ISTJ was the album where he received the most writing credits, recorded as having helped with the lyrics for all tracks bar Like We Just Met and Blue Wave. Fans liked to see that he was showing a more creative side of himself this era, and that he was vocal about all the things he’d had input in or had helped shape into the final form, polishing it to perfection for their third full album. He was most noticeably supportive in their behind-the-scenes recording videos, where he got through all of his own sessions quickly & efficiently (but with no lack of passion and enthusiasm for the lines he was given—which most were happy to see were more than usual, similar to the WE YOUNG era in terms of numbers, even occasionally soaring a few higher) and then stayed in to listen to all of his other fellow members, cheering them on from behind the glass and dancing around as they recorded, greeting them with a wide hug and endless amounts of praise when they left the booth.

Another thing that was enjoyable for fans was his complete lack of awareness of what an MBTI actually was. He’d heard of them, of course, but he’d never gone as far as to take a test and find out for himself. So Kihyun, curious to see what the fuss was all about, turned on an Instagram live, propped his phone up against his desk, switched his laptop on, and took one there and then. He consulted with viewers about every single one of the questions, taking far too long to complete it than any normal person would-and, when he finally did, disagreeing with his result right up until he saw people that shared his MBTI. He shut up pretty quick when he scrolled down a little more and saw that he apparently had the same one as Adele, changing his tune almost instantly and saying his result was the best of them all. Officially bumping his longest-running streak up to five, ISTJ was most definitely a GOOD era for Kihyun.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀MV BEHIND

He was clearly in his element, bouncing around from member to member to play with their hair or jump onto their back or whisper something in their ear before bursting out into a fit of snickers and running off again to see who else he could bother. He played photographer for most of their Instagram posts, taking the outtakes or moments where they had an eye closed or just clearly weren’t ready for his own feed, started a playfight with Jisung and nearly tripped himself up on a stray wire in the process, brought his own mini Bluetooth speaker to set one day so he could have a soundtrack while he caused his chaos, and attempted to show off more tricks he was learning, but was quickly stopped by Mark, who, as soon as he saw him getting in position for what looked like a cartwheel of some sort, was rushing over faster than light—his breakdancing routine from the GLITCH MODE era still very much as the forefront of his mind.

DREAM()SCAPE  (2024)⠀⠀mocktails  &  odd-looking  fruits

AGAIN FRESH OFF A BIRTHDAY (HIS 23RD THIS TIME), the vocalist felt just as excited for the release as he had for GLITCH MODE, even if it wasn’t a full album. It was calling back to their debut days, making a statement through all of the symbolism and hidden messages that was louder than any of them could convey with words, and was altogether a project that hoped to show to everyone how strong their bond actually was, to convince the few out there that were of the opposite opinion that they all loved one another throughout the thick and thin their eight years of being an active subunit, and weren’t likely to stop anytime soon. Kihyun was like Jisung in regards to all the fan-theories being made about the teasers, keeping his mouth mostly shut (although some thought that was just because he was barely on social media as it was), but did comment on some things in particular—namely Jeno’s back, the Jaemin trailer that had him locking eyes with the camera even in between a crowd, and the Chenle pill-biting scene. He kept quiet on his own, making brief comments about how cool he thought he looked on Bubble but not saying much otherwise.

The few things he did share about the comeback were mostly about the music. He had writing credits for the majority of the songs, but also had another piece of news that was exciting for him as a longtime personal goal he’d had for a good while—and that was that he’d assisted with the production on one of the tracks. Most that knew Kihyun knew that music production had been one of his interests since he knew what it was, and so naturally that meant they knew what some of his work in the production area actually getting used in an official release would mean to him. He couldn’t have been happier about it, and that happiness was a sentiment both the members and his closer friends outside of Dream shared with him, mentioning it in passing when talking about DREAM()SCAPE. Even if it only just ended, SMOOTHIE is considered yet another—making this his sixth in a row since ‘the dark ages’—GOOD era for Kihyun.

(MY)  FAVOURITE  MOMENT: ⠀DREAM()SCAPE COUPLE SONG MEETING

Amidst all the chaos, Kihyun was surprisingly quiet. He looked half-asleep for most of the meeting; Jamiroquai baseball cap backwards on his head, eyes drooping closed every now and again, and a thick sweater on that he kept pulling closer to himself as if he wanted it to suddenly transform into a blanket. The only thing he did the whole meeting was play Cooking Mama on his phone (we know this because he shared screenshots of his finished dishes on Bubble afterwards) and vouch for Carat Cake—yes, you heard that right, Carat Cake. The song that the rest of the members acted as if it didn’t exist. He didn’t really care if it wasn’t a couple song, and didn’t really care if it didn’t get picked, either—he just wanted it to be known that was where his vote lay. It was his favourite song on the EP, and hoped that somewhere out there there’d be people that liked it just as much as him. At some point in the middle he got bored with both his phone and the arguments still going on in front of him, so he nestled his head in his arms and attempted to have a nap. Which, predictably, didn’t work that well. By the end of it he was still dead tired, still the only one that liked Carat Cake, but also the only one who had three stars on his Cooking Mama carbonara, and so he considered himself the real winner of that meeting.

[padfootagain]

Morning Dance

Hi!! Here I come again with a new fic for Ben! I hope you like it! Please, let me know what you think about this cute little piece!

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Summary: You have a little bit too much fun at your friend’s party, and are very much drunk by the end of the night. How do you end up lying in Ben Barnes’ bed the next morning? You have no idea…

Warnings : none, just a lot of fluff!!! Friends to lovers.

Pairing : Ben Barnes x reader

Word Count : 3288

You would never let your friends talk you into going to one of their parties ever again.

Right at this moment, you should have been in your bed, enjoying a peaceful Sunday morning in your cosy little flat with nothing to disrupt you but the sound of birds singing outside.

But you had listened to your friends as they convinced you to come to this party one of them was hosting. It was all their fault. Because your best friend had looked at you with such puppy eyes, and she insisted and gave you only great arguments to come… Free drinks, free food, all your friends gathered in one house, including some you had not seen for quite a while.

Even Ben was attending, whom you had not seen in a long time. He was off to another country to film a show, as usual. Happy and busy life of an actor.

You had to admit that this was the final argument that made you cave in. You hadn’t seen this friend of yours for a very long time. Oh, of course you were still in touch, and spent hours on the phone together on a regular basis. But it wasn’t the same as seeing him. As hearing his voice unchanged by the phone. As seeing his handsome face without the screen freezing every ten seconds because of his or your terrible connection. As hearing his laugh ring across a room. As having him giving you a warm hug because he genuinely was so happy to see you…

…and the fact that you had a crush on him did weigh on your decision. It would have been hard to deny it.

A crush that you had kept hidden ever since it bubbled its way into your heart years ago. A crush you thought would eventually wane but remained just as strong as the months - and later on the years - went by. A crush that, maybe, turned into something a little stronger than a mere crush, but you had always refused to acknowledge that. Liking your friend this way was hard enough to deal with.

You reckoned you were not the one to blame though. Maybe, had he not been so charming, and not so annoyingly kind, and just a little bit less of an idiot in a hilarious and adorable way… maybe then you would have never developed these feelings for him.

But then again… your life could be awfully complicated sometimes.

For all these reasons, you had gone to your friend’s party the previous night. And you had had a wonderful time, you could not deny it. But then, you got a little too drunk. You crossed that thin line between ‘just above tipsy’ and ‘about to pass out’. And that was when it all went wrong.

Terribly wrong. Because you could not remember the end of the night. Because you woke up this morning with a terrible headache. Because you felt like your tongue was made of cardboard, your back was painful for some reason, and you had not even opened your eyes yet that you already felt nauseous. But also because, when you did open your eyes, rubbing away the remnants of sleep that lingered on your eyelids, you found yourself in a bedroom.

Waking up in a bed, in a bedroom… that sounded logical at first. Until you realized that this was not your bedroom. Nor your bed. And that you were not alone in this bed…

You knew where you were, and who was lying by your side, making the mattress bend slightly under his weight, letting out a regular and quiet snore that was barely audible, just loud enough to show he was still sound asleep. You knew where you were and who this man was before you turned your head to the side to look at him. You would have recognized this poster of Back to the Future hanging on this wall anywhere…

You were waking up in Ben fucking Barnes’ flat.

And not just in his flat, actually. In his BED! WITH HIM!

The realization struck you enough to make you unable to move for a rather long time. You merely stared at this stupid poster, trying to decide what to do, trying to remember what had happened, trying to figure out what his reaction would be if he suddenly woke up to see you there, by his side, in his bed…

What on earth happened during the night?

You felt the bed moving as Ben turned and when you finally detached your stare from the wall, it was only for your gaze to drown in his dark eyes.

You saw him blinking. One, twice, thrice… eyelids falling on brown irises that, in the shy golden light of morning, seemed almost black.

He stared back at you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. All your questions were left unanswered, and you didn’t mind. He merely stared at you, with these eyes of his that always held something happy, something gentle, something kind. You stared and got lost there, in this familiar sight.

But then, you were aware that he was smiling. You could see in the way his eyelids dropped a little more than usual that he was not fully awake yet. Awoken, and yet lost in the fogs of the first moments that followed a gentle sleep; where the world is bright and blurred and nothing is complicated yet.

For him, this, you and him in the same bed, was not complicated for now. Instead, the covers were warm and comfortable, and the light coming in through the curtains was yellow and soft, and you were pretty like this, lying by his side…

While the world was still motionless, you took your time to look at him, or rather admire him, in fact. A mess of dishevelled dark hair pressed against his pillow, stubble to colour his cheeks, and a smile that made crinkles appear at the corner of his eyes. You wanted to reach up to caress this spot above his cheekbone, to brush a fingertip against the freckle under his right eye. But you didn’t dare. It was but a passing moment, as fragile as a snowflake resting in the palm of a hand. A mere movement could pop the bubble where you had found shelter, and then it would be over. The migraine would be back, and all the questions, and the panic…

Better stay hidden there, in plain sight, for a little bit longer, for as long as Ben would let it last…

And Ben let the moment last for a long while. Because, truth was, he didn’t want to move at all. Just like you, he wanted to remain in this suspended state for a little longer.

Because… well… it didn’t happen everyday that one could wake up next to the woman they secretly loved… Better enjoy it while he could.

He was surprised you had not pushed him away yet. He expected you to freak out. Ben was pretty much certain that you had drunk too much the previous night to remember what happened after that last shot of Tequila.

You probably did not remember dancing with him on an improvised dancefloor in the middle of your friend’s kitchen. You probably did not remember the crazy moves you made, the silly faces, the disco dance, and then… then the slow dance spent swaying slowly in his arms.

He remembered though. He was driving home after the party, after all. No alcohol for him, except for one beer. He was sober while you danced as if there would be no tomorrow. He was sober when the music changed from funky to slow; from joyful to melancholic. He was sober when you stared at him for a couple of seconds, clearly hesitating, biting on your lower lip. He was sober when you took his hand without a word, wrapped your arm around his neck in silence, and danced. Slow, soft movements while holding him close. He was sober and yet barely alive as he guided your movements, breathing in your perfume, the familiar scent that he always missed whenever he travelled. A hand on your lower back, the other holding your fingers. Your breath tickling his neck, making his heart beat uncontrollably fast and all the hair on his neck stand… but in a delightful way. A way that made him long for more. He could barely breathe all along, while you swayed softly to an instrumental version of some Hozier song.

He was sober. He remembered everything.

The way the last notes died out while you were alone in this kitchen, the party raging outside while another song was played but none of you seemed to hear it. The way you were staring at each other, standing still. The way you leaned up to press your lips to his. The way you tasted of Tequila and something sweet he couldn’t identify. The way you held him close, the way he did the same. The way your two hearts pounded in your chests, so loudly they echoed through the other’s ribcage. The way he realized that this had to be what people called ‘heaven on earth’…

He remembered everything.

He was pretty sure you had forgotten though. About the dance, and the kiss, but also how you didn’t want to go home alone. How he offered to take you home and stay for a while, but you insisted on going to his place. And after that kiss, he couldn’t refuse anything to you. He would have done anything you asked. And so, he did.

You must have forgotten the way he helped you walk to his home, and to his bedroom. How you stopped him when he tried to leave, determined to sleep on the couch.

Stay with me for tonight. I don’t want you to leave.

You’re drunk, nothing will happen, Y/N.

I hope so. I trust you for that. Stay anyway. I’ve missed you.

He would have done anything you asked. And so, he did.

But then, morning came, and there you were. Awake by his side, and if he moved at all, even the smallest tremor, it would be over.

He took a deep breath, before breaking the spell. Someone had to do it, eventually. A life cannot be spent in a timeless dream…

He had barely opened his mouth to speak that a terrified spark lit up your eyes.

"So… good morning?" he spoke, his voice made hoarse by sleep.

You opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. Your eyes grew round, and the spell was broken for good. You seemed panicked by now. You sat up, pressing the covers against your chest in instinct.

"We're in the same bed,” you breathed, still staring at him. “What the fuck are we doing in the same bed?!"

Ben yawned, hiding behind a relaxed composure how his heart was a little broken by this reaction of yours.

So… your kiss was just that then. A drunken kiss made on an impulse, forgotten as quickly as it was given…

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he reassured you, still lying down.

You looked down, and indeed, you were fully clothed.

You heaved a relieved sigh.

“Thank God… I don’t remember the end of the night.”

“Yeah… not surprising, considering how drunk you were.”

“Did I throw up? Did I do something crazy?”

Was kissing your friend to be classified as crazy?

“You didn’t throw up,” Ben reassured you. “You were drunk, and didn’t want to be alone. I took you home. We fell asleep. That’s all.”

You nodded, heaving another sigh as you visibly relaxed.

“I’m sorry. Don’t know exactly what happened, but whatever I did… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Nothing too bad, you don’t have to worry.”

“Good…”

You looked at him now with so much embarrassment, he hated it. He hated it so much… He knew what was coming.

“I’d better go. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

He meant to reassure you, but you were already on your feet before he had the chance to say anything. You fought against the nausea that shook your world as you stood up, and as soon as your feet were anchored on the solid ground again, you strode out of the room.

You wanted to escape. As fast as possible. You felt so ashamed, so embarrassed…

“You could stay for breakfast,” Ben offered from behind you.

He had gotten up in a hurry as well, following you across his apartment.

“Or at least for one of my miraculous remedies against hangover,” he joked, but his smile was nervous.

“I think I’d better go.”

“Right…”

He hesitated. Was it better to not remind you about the kiss? Was it better to let you go?

But if you remembered later on, and he hadn’t told you anything about it… wouldn’t you be mad? Would you not think then that he didn’t care about this kiss?

Because he cared. More than you could have imagined, more than he cared to acknowledge.

And maybe, as he took his final decision, he didn’t think as much about your feelings as about his own. Because perhaps you had forgotten about that kiss, but he hadn’t. He remembered everything. And the more he thought about it, the more Ben was certain that he would never be able to be merely friends with you again; not after that kiss, not after that moment you had shared.

He looked at you for a moment, motionless, standing in the middle of his hallway while you grabbed your coat and looked for your shoes. They were right there, next to his, waiting for you by the door…

“Do you really not remember anything from last night?”

You froze. You could hear something painful in his voice. Something that told you that you should have remembered… but you didn’t.

“Not after I drank that Tequila shot. Then… nothing.”

“I see…”

You turned to face him. Ben had crossed his arms before his chest, his black t-shirt revealing most of his arms, and the muscles that tensed at your answer. He clenched his jaw, looking down. You guessed that he was hesitating.

“Did something happen?”

He didn’t answer, but now you were truly worried. Because if you had done something crazy, then you preferred to know.

“What happened? Tell me.”

He heaved a sigh, but shook his head.

“It was nothing, no need to bother you with that.”

He really had wanted to be selfish for a moment, but he couldn’t. Especially not when it came to you…

“Ben… you have to tell me. I’ll remember. I always end up remembering after a while.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… I do remember the night I threw up on your shoes.”

He chuckled at that.

“That was an epic night.”

“Tell me. What did I do?”

He looked for the best way to tell you… but he didn’t know how. How could he tell you that you had kissed him. And that he had kissed you too…

“How did you remember?” he asked, his tone too neutral.

“Just… saw something that reminded me of that night.”

“So… I could make you remember….”

You frowned questioningly at him, but he had already walked into his living room. You followed his steps without understanding his actions.

He picked up his phone, seemed to be looking for something.

Music echoed, notes played on guitar strings. You frowned at him some more.

“Ben? What’s going on?”

He took his time to put down his phone, and then he turned towards you. He stared at you, with an intensity that made it impossible for you to look away. Something in his brown, almost black eyes was magnetising, a mixture of determination and something more fragile too… something that looked like fear…

He stood before you, in silence, until he offered you his open hand.

“We danced. Do you remember that?”

But you shook your head.

"Dance with me, then. Please?"

“Ben… this is mad…”

“Maybe… but maybe you’ll remember if we dance again.”

You had to yield, because he looked too determined to change his mind. Because he offered you a hand you had never refused. Because you wanted to dance with him. Always… if you could spend your life dancing in his arms, you would.

So, you had danced… but there was more to it? A dance with Ben was already a lot to take in…

Gently, he pulled you closer, and you found yourselves in the same position as the night before. Swaying gently to the same song. Your hands joined as one, your arm around his neck and his fingers resting on your lower back. And you could feel his breath against your cheek and ear and hair and it was driving you crazy…

He smelled something of wood and stars on a rainy night. You loved this scent. It felt like home…

You kept on telling yourself that you were not ready to admit your feelings for Ben, but that was a ridiculous statement, if there ever was one. Because it was obvious that you loved him. A crush… you could have laughed at yourself if you had been able to breathe properly at that moment. No… no, what you felt now, holding him close… it was so much more than a mere crush. You were in love. You were in love with him…

The song came to an end, and the air was still. Ben pulled away just enough to look at you. He studied your features, trying to guess if you remembered what had happened after this song was over the previous night…

And when you looked up at him with round eyes, he was certain that you did remember.

“You… did I… did I kiss you?” you asked after a long pause.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes. You did.”

“And… you didn’t… stop me?”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

He gave you an amused smile.

“What do you think?”

You studied his features for a moment, but you were certain he wasn’t angry. He was smiling, but he was nervous too, you were sure of it.

Did that mean that…

“You feel like that too?”

Again, he nodded slowly. He raised his hand to brush his fingertips across your cheek, making your breath get caught in your throat.

“Have for a while, if I’m to be honest…” he added in a whisper. “Look… I know you were drunk. And you probably didn’t think this through but… I can’t act as if nothing happened because… something did happen. And I liked it. Actually… actually, I loved it. And I don’t want to pretend otherwise. So… I don’t know what you want to do about that but…”

But he never finished his sentence. Instead, you held his face in both your hands all of a sudden, and pulled him down to you.

And this time, as you kissed him, you would remember it fully. Hell… how could you ever forget that kind of a kiss…

When you broke apart, forehead against forehead, you were holding each other so close, it was hard to guess where your body ended and where his started.

Ben cleared his voice.

“So… does that mean that… were I to ask you out… let’s say tomorrow night…?”

“I’m free tonight, if you’re interested.”

He laughed, and you soon joined him.

“You’re always in such a rush, Y/N…”

“I bet you like that about me.”

“No, not exactly. I rather love it, I think.”

He offered you a bright smile, still holding you close.

“I’m free as well tonight. But then… maybe you could stay for breakfast, too?”

You let out a mischievous chuckle.

“And who’s in a rush now, Ben, huh?”

[moistvonlipwig]

OUAT Week Day 1: Favorite arc

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, there was an enchanted forest filled with all the classic characters we know. Or think we know.

But they were never trapped in a place where all their happy endings were stolen. They were never trapped in our world. They just kept living in the enchanted forest forever, same as they always had been.

And they were so much worse off for it.

Snow White and Prince Charming never had to confront the worst parts of themselves or their society. They never had to learn to accept and love a daughter who wasn't exactly how they'd imagined her. They never had to reflect on their past actions or learn to forgive the past actions of others. They built a kingdom that, much like their own selves, looked like a fairytale but crumbled like sand the moment it was challenged.

Emma grew up with her parents, but they coddled her and taught her only to look pretty and pick flowers and sing. She never learned to believe in her own ability to solve problems, never learned the importance of fighting back against wrongdoing, never learned how to do anything but surrender in the face of a challenge.

Henry, like his Storybrooke counterpart, wanted to be a hero. But he never had to learn empathy or compassion for villains. He never had to face the fact that people are more complex than their fairytale labels make them out to be. He never saw the consequences of black-and-white thinking. He became a knight and then a king who prized violence over kindness, vengeance over forgiveness.

Regina never cast her curse, and thus never learned what a hollow victory it truly was. She never adopted a child or learned that there were more valuable things in life than her quest for vengeance. Indeed, that is how we leave her: on the deck of the Jolly Roger, forever in that moment of pure confusion at the idea that anything could be more important than revenge.

Captain Hook, on the other hand, left the Wish Realm and did learn there were more important things in life than revenge. He had a child, and he gave up everything for her. But when he made a mistake and lost her, he had no support system to fall back on, no one to catch him when he fell. He returned to the Wish Realm, slid into depression and desperate schemes, and only clawed his way back to a better life once he joined up with the characters from Storybrooke.

Robin Hood lost Maid Marian early and never had a child with her. He kept stealing for himself and never chose to put his skills towards helping others. He lived a lonely and selfish life, without purpose or fulfillment, until he stepped outside the Wish Realm and was forced to consider what kind of person he really wanted to be.

Rumpelstiltskin lost both his son and the woman he loved. In fact, it's not clear that he was ever even reunited with his son at all. Thus, he never came to appreciate the value of making oneself vulnerable to love or the importance of doing the right thing even if it comes at a cost. Instead, he sought only power over others. He lost the humanity he once had and gave every part of himself over to the anger and fear within him. He became the ultimate Dark One.

The Wish Realm is fundamentally unchallenging. No one is forced to change or to reckon with their past. No one learns to empathize with their enemies. Everyone stays the way they were prior to the first episode of OUAT in perpetuity, calcifying into caricatured versions of themselves. It is a fairytale without depth, a fantasy world without humanity to ground it in reality. The only way to grow past its stagnation is to escape.

There are some strange and inconsistent wordbuilding choices in how the Wish Realm was written, to be sure. But thematically, the Wish Realm arc is coherent and powerful. It is a celebration of the journey these characters have taken with each other. An acknowledgment that the things you go through in life, good and bad, matter to who you are; that sometimes things we think are curses can be blessings in disguise; that, as Regina will put it in 7.20 "Is This Henry Mills?", "scratches are a part of life." The ultimate thesis of the Wish Realm storyline is that the characters of Once Upon a Time are better for having been a part of each other's imperfect, messy lives. I'd like to think that all of us are better off with these imperfect, messy fictional people in our lives, too.