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ssahopelessly · 9 months

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Sick Leave

Synopsis: There has never been a time where she was ‘too sick’ to go to work.

Request: Could you do a Spencer x BAU Reader where she is sick but doesn’t want to admit it and comes into work? Please?

Warning: SpencerxFemReader, ambiguous relationship, symptom descriptions, sans Spencer’s germophobia, light displays of affection // let me know any I missed!

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

If you had asked me what my problem was that morning, I would have endless options but I couldn’t really decide on which one was actually the front runner. Maybe the inability to breathe properly, maybe the scratchiness at the back of my throat, or maybe it was the headache that seemed to be wrapping around my head like it’s own imaginary gym headband. But maybe, it was the way I still went to work, having taken some medication and telling myself the symptoms would subside. Or at least I hoped they would.

I had stopped by my desk, trying to rub the pressure from my head as I felt a pair of eyes on me, studying me in my state from across the aisle. “Are you feeling okay?” Most sounds had only made my headache twinge in sharp pain, but I was thankful that didn’t seem to be the effect with him. His voice was a cool breeze, wrapping around my shoulders to fight the heat that had rushed over my skin.

“Pfft, yeah. I’m fine.” I tried to dismiss him though, turning to see the rightfully deserved quirked up eyebrow he was casting at me. “I’m fine.” Was another attempt at reassurance that probably would’ve been believable if, in my state, I hadn’t also tried to take a step forward towards my chair, and nearly stumbled on my two feet, almost falling to the ground.

Spencer was soon behind me though, pulling me up onto my feet with an arm around my waist as he pulled me to his chest, safer there than the floor. He kicked my chair further out with his foot as I grabbed onto the desk for stability, the both of us wrestling my body towards the seat.

“You’re definitely not fine.” Was huffed into my ear as I was finally seated, eyes all over me as he backed up slightly, assessing me in my state. The back of his hand raised to my forehead, bottom corner of his lip pulling inward. “You have a fever.” I avoided looking into his eyes as his hands slipped under my ears on both sides of my head and towards the back of my head, somewhere near where my hairline met my neck, fingertips pressing into the skin in their vicinity. “And I can feel how swollen your lymph nodes are.” I would blame the potential fever on the blush that rushed to my cheeks, knowing that the way he was holding my head was a bit more intimate than acceptable for simple coworkers. If Derek had held Emily or JJ’s head like this, there would be room for concern or rumors.

“What is that supposed to even mean?” An attempt to breathe through my nose had him recoiling back, the proof that I was congested hanging between us.

“It means you’re sick and need to go home.”

“You’re not even a medical doctor. You can’t make that call.” His stare softened as his hand reached up once more to brush hair from my face to behind my ear.

“Do you want to talk to Hotch or should I?”

“I don’t want to go home. I want to work.” I forced the pout on my lips, knowing my bottom lip jutting out was often how I got him to cave in an argument. But he simply closed his eyes and turned away from me, moving back towards his desk.

“Okay,” was his admit of defeat, “Fine. I just feel like you should go home. Just trying to look out for you.” There was a layer of hurt in his words that made me feel guilty. Spencer buried his nose in a book, practically ignoring me from my side of the aisle, and that might’ve hurt more than his words. No matter how aggressive my cough had become, or how many times I sneezed, not a look, not a ‘bless you’, nothing. It was just an effort to look out for me, we both knew this. But I was stubborn, and it honestly just felt like a head cold. I could work through a head cold with medicine. I had done it before, I could surely do it again.

I’m not sure when, and I’m not sure how. All I know is, I was being woken up by someone shaking my arm, and when I opened my eyes, Aaron Hotchner was squatting down at the side of my desk, a sympathetic smile on his face. Dad Hotch was coming out for me in his smile, a sharp contrast to the stern exterior that usually accompanied SSA Hotchner. “Go home.” Was all he offered, the corner of his lips never falling.

“No,” it came out more of a whine than I had originally meant, my head pounding as I lifted it from where it had been resting on my arms. “I want to stay.”

“You’re sick. And you were sleeping here for an hour. Go home.” Another attempt at pleading with him would have dropped cold on the floor, and I wasn’t going to argue with him when he just explained to me how long I had been out. Gathering my things from my desk, Aaron walked me towards the sixth floor elevator bay, where Spencer joined us.

“I got her from here.” The grudge from earlier had been dropped, as his hand reached for my bag, draping the strap onto his other shoulder that wasn’t occupied by his own work bag. Aaron offered him a smile and nod before reentering the BAU glass doors, the only other company with Spencer and I being the hum of the elevator car as we waited. I kept my arms wrapped around myself, feeling very much like a child in a child swap dynamic. “Told you.” He muttered under his breath as he rocked from his heel to his toes. Rolling my eyes at him, I entered the elevator when it finally showed up, Spencer reaching over for the ground floor button as the door closed us in.

On the few occasions Spencer and I had carpooled to work, Spencer had noted that I tend to park in the same area and I tried to explain to him it was the prime parking spot location, and the banter had fallen off after that. Now, I was happy he seemed to know where I would have parked that morning, his hand reaching into my bag for my car keys. I had wanted to drive, but it was another instance where Spencer seemed to know better than me, and my energy was dwindling to maintain any fight that could start between us.

The drive home was quiet and I was fighting sleep. I would never admit to being sick and/or tired, but I was grateful for being sent home. I was grateful for having someone like Spencer as my coworker and my ‘something more’, but I didn’t know to what extent I was entitled to some actions. “Are you at least going to stay with me?”

“I’m taking you home, aren’t I?” There was a twinkle in the corner of his eye as he tried not to laugh at me, doing a terrible job of suppressing his humor from his lips. I sank further into my seat as we traveled further from Quantico and closer back to the residential part of DC. I had already fallen asleep at work, surely Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if I fell asleep on the car ride home.

“We’re here.” This time, I was woken by Spencer’s hand on my thigh as he had opened the passenger door and was working on getting my seatbelt off of me. Something he couldn’t quite do as my arms were once again wrapped over my chest and my head was resting against the strap as it crossed my shoulder. I just grunted as I reached for my bag that had been at my feet, seeing Spencer had once again placed the strap over his own shoulder to carry it for me. He stepped to the side as I tried to climb out, offering a hand for me to hold when he thought I might need it.

I was still capable enough to unlock my apartment in my state, but that didn’t stop Spencer from wanting to stay, entering my place with me. He placed my bag on one of the bar stools, like he’d seen me do countless times before, then just kind of watched me as I moved through my space. Sleep hadn’t left my system just yet, as I bumped into the door frame into my room, immediately pulling my top off, attempting to throw it towards the hamper. My pajamas had been resting on the foot of my bed and I had fully changed over to those by the time Spencer entered my room, hand in his pockets as he watched me from the door. “You didn’t have to tell Hotch.” I tried to chide him as I pulled the layers of fabric back from my spot on the mattress.

“I didn’t.” I raised my eyebrow at him, his head bowing as he took a moment to laugh under his breath, stepping into the room now. “You fell asleep at your desk. He asked what was wrong and I just told him you hadn’t been feeling well.”

“So you snitched on me?”I climbed into bed, back under my covers because that seemed like the best place for me to be in this moment. If I had been sent home from work, I was simply going to sleep the day away. Spencer sat on the side of the mattress, reaching for the covers to pull them over my body for me.

“Get some sleep.” The look of adoration was so intense, I thought I might actually see cartoon hearts take form in his eyes, his hand reaching up to gently brush the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone.

I couldn’t stay mad at him, not for being overprotective or for telling Hotch. He was doing what he thought was best in an effort to care for me, and where it maybe hadn’t been how I would’ve handled the situation, it was only in my best interest. I reached for his hand as it rested between us now, trying to interlace my fingers with his. He let it happen, his focus seemingly only on our hold. “Spenc-”

“Sleep.” A kiss was applied to my forehead before I laid back against the pillows, watching him as he moved from the bed back towards the door frame, hand lingering over the light switches.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Pressing a hand to my lips, I blew him a kiss as he turned off the lights in my room, a blush rising to his cheek as he cracked the door in his exit. I listened for the sounds of his departure from the apartment, but instead only heard the sounds of him moving through the kitchen, probably making lunch. I pulled the pillow next to me closer, trying to imagine it was him, that it had been him cuddling me into tranquility as I drifted off to sleep.

For the alternate twist on this trope, check out my SickSpencerxFemReader fic here!

Thank you for reading!

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #angst #spencer reid x y/n #oneshot #comfort #aaron hotchner #ask fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid y/n

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gay-otlc · 1 year

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When people say they struggle with keeping track of all the tone tags (the ones like /j or /gen), everyone who disregards that by responding "it's just memorizing some abbreviations/acronyms, it's not that hard, stop complaining" is ableist and a fucking hypocrite. If you're going to advocate for accessibility, advocate for accessibility for all of us.

You can't claim to be an ally to neurodivergent and disabled people and then shit on us for our symptoms. If you actually care about helping us, why aren't you listening when we say we struggle with something? It's never okay to tell disabled people they should be able to do something they can't, that it's not that hard, but it's especially not okay if you do so while pretending to support disabled people.

Also, in addition to the "it's not that hard" statement being ableist, it's utter bullshit. There are so many tone tags to keep track of and memorize. I did a quick google search and one of my top results had ninety one tone tags. That's a lot. That's probably a lot even for a neurotypical person, and I'm not a neurotypical person. I struggle to remember a lot of basic, necessary tasks, so I really can't memorize ninety one tone tags.

Especially when some of them are incredibly ambiguous- only one letter? Acronyms or abbreviations at least give you some clues, one letter tone tags are so incredibly confusing. Like, what does /t mean? There are a lot of words that start with T! (This is a rhetorical question. I know /t means "teasing," but I only know the answer because figuring that out was a memorably frustrating experience.)

And /t is just one example of a tone tag I learned because I kept seeing it in conversation and not understanding and being really confused and frustrated. I can't tell you the number of times I've been messaging someone on discord, and they say something with a tone tag I don't recognize, and I just open a new tab to google the meaning, which is where I find lists like the one above. I usually rely on google instead of asking the person what they meant, because I feel stupid and embarrassed for not knowing this code that everyone else seemingly gets.

Which is exactly how it feels when I don't understand someone's tone in real life! Confused and frustrated and ashamed. And tone tags were supposed to help neurodivergent and disabled people not feel that way, so I don't know how we reached a point where they cause those feelings in many of us.

I can't deny that tone tags are a useful accessibility tool for some. If you find them helpful, it's genuinely good that you have that resource. But they're not accessible for all of us. It's incorrect to act like tone tags are a perfect way to communicate, and it's ableist to disregard our struggles with them and tell us to just try harder.

Either listen to those of us who say they have trouble understanding tone tags, or stop pretending you actually give a shit about accessibility.

#this was meant to be just those first two paragraphs about ableism + hypocrisy but then i kept on rambling. i am incapable of shutting up #anyway. had some thoughts about the disk horse and then i had more thoughts and more thoughts and more thoughts #tone tags #tone indicators

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tarjapearce · 6 months

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Chapter 2: So Not Ready For This World

Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of abortion, emotional distress, unwanted pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, little character background, morally ambiguous characters, enemies to lovers, morally grey characters, slow burn, No proofread.

Summary: The devastating consequences knock on your door.

Previous Masterlist

Chapter's Song:

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A/N: Ngl, proud of this one :'). Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ✨

Sleep was rather easy to escape your head as time went on. Guiltiness had made your eyes tired, dull and the eyebags a bit more prominent. It had earned you a little reprimand from your upper boss, a reminder that appearances were important and you were slacking.

But how could you focus on something so trivial and mundane when your mind was always gravitating towards Miguel and Dana? Ever since the biting truth unfolded before your eyes those days ago, your head was unable to unwrap around it.

Was this a barbed joke from the universe you weren't aware of?

A tired sigh escaped your lips, hands rubbing a bit too tightly on your enfeebled face. As if such thing would wash away the guilty and hounding thoughts for good.

Miguel O'Hara. He worked in the labs, another reason why you had never seen him before, lab people came out an hour earlier, but he either stayed behind or was too sneaky for you to actually get a glimpse of him.

But after the predicament, he had been leaving at five exactly, hand in hand with Dana, parading themselves before everyone. You specially. A daily caveat to keep you pretty mouth shut. He didn't approach you, no. But you felt watched, stalked with the eyes, a bit harassed even whenever the clock ticked 5 pm.

Dana worked in the new market agro department, she came out at five, and by the hour difference you assumed Miguel waited for her.

How cute.

Your lip twitched in a scowl. Anger rising like bile at the impotence and powerless feeling of doing nothing. Dana deserved the truth, even though you'd come out as the sacrificial lamb in the end. You might not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but none deserved to be kept in the shadows like that.

You didn't know if they had troubles, but cheating was surely off the book for her or any normal person really. No engaged woman should go through that.

But those eyes. Sinister, warning, preying with an ominous promise in them prevented you from spilling the truth.

Miguel didn't have to approach you to make his point known and understood. But it left you with a myriad of emotions you were tired of feeling. From time to time you wished to be as cold and hollow-hearted as he was, so you could pretend that nothing had happened. Because for him it was exactly what had occurred. Nothing at all.

He was fine, Dana was fine and you-

Not fine at all but he didn't care. Why would he? Miguel took what he wanted from you, dragging you to this fucked up spiral of power dynamic where he had the upper hand and you could do nothing but fold and obey to a very clear yet silent order.

It wouldn't make the guilt and disgust go away, but you're certain that at how things are going for you, you'd get in trouble for slacking in cues that were required in your work contract.

Another guest approached. It was time to put the resolution to test.

The feeling of being stalked stopped after a couple of weeks, it didn't wane the guilt but you were learning how to live with it. A cruel joke you had no choice but swot on how to take it with a grain of salt to avoid fucking up ever again. One night stands were out of your list permanently.

In the few times you could catch him leaving the building he seemed at ease, sometimes he'd smile while looking at the wedding magazine Dana held in her dainty and manicured hands. She also appeared to be happy. Pretense maybe? You didn't know. For how long had they been together?

Long enough to get a ring on her finger, obviously.

With an exasperated groan you marched to your lunch break. The cafeteria's food seemed good and cheap enough to order the usual. Bit of mashed potatos, salad, and some other protein with either an iced tea or water, depending on your mood. You went for the tea.

A few bucks were used to eat, you sat in one of the available tables and ate. People in Alchemax were either too busy with themselves to actually care about the drama, or were exactly the opposite. Not that you blamed them. Science stuff surely provided them enough entertainment to go by, but you'd be tired too if your whole day revolved around numbers and hypothesis awaiting to be confirmed.

How did they do it was beyond your reasoning. Eyes scanned the area, the same group of men that approached you back at the party, passed over your seat without looking your way. As expected.

The fact that people had selective memory was something that filled your brain with wonder. Your musings however were interrupted by a gurgle in your stomach, appetite leaving you completely. Thankfully there wasn't much to be wasted. Had someone changed the ingredients? Not really.

Everything tasted like the usual. You downed the tea before disposing of the remains in a trash bin to then walk around the building, greeting some staff in the way. There wasn't many people you interacted with, perhaps your evening replacement. An intern called Anna and that still remained on debate cause of her constant mood swings towards you.

But within Alchemax in general, there was none really you wanted to engage with. Life happening too fast in their daily basis. Your thoughts were stopped in their racing tracks when you saw Miguel approaching. Two coffee papercups in his big hands.

Gulping, you didn't think twice in turning around where you had came from before he saw you, even if it meant to cross the whole building again to get to your work station.

Heartbeat raced miles per second, but you had avoided another unnecessary interaction with him. A relieved sigh escaped your lips once you were in your seat at the front desk. The day was nearly reaching it's end.

Something you now looked forward to. You'd be back holed up in your apartment, in the comfort of your privacy, away from worries. Watching either a movie or sleeping. Fatigue seemed a too heavy load to ignore, you blamed it to the stress and lack of sleep. A negative domino effect that had been unleashed thanks to a guy that didn't know how to keep it in his pants.

Your panties were slid down as you sat on the toilet, a frown on your face. Nothing but tiny spots of maroon. Your period was acting up again, but you couldn't really blame your body for slacking when the past month and a half had been awfully loaded with work.

New clients, a shit ton of appointments to schedule, reschedule and cancel; mail to organize, and food that you were sure it had given you a fair share of poison since you always seemed to be sick. And even though you had stopped consuming from the cafeteria, there was little changes.

The cherry on top was to get a memo after your manager had found you sleeping on the desk. Tiredness that day clung to you with such force you were amazed at your own capacity to make it through your eight hours. Only to crash on your bed once you were home.

But today, neither your mood, the universe, nor your body cooperated. You took a shower and put a little pad on your fresh set of panties. The diva cup would be unnecessary to wear since the discharge wasn't abundant, but packed a couple of tampons just in case. Expensive as they were, you couldn't go unprepared.

You changed, grabbed your things and went out the door, everything but ready to face the day that awaited you.

A wave of nausea hit you after you scarfed down a stuffed bagel on your way to work, you got there twenty minutes late due to your ride stuck in traffic, your car had been in repair for weeks now. Manager already awaiting with a sour face. Guests had lined up in the entrance, ready to express their contempt with you.

Fucking peachy.

Morning went in a haste, and you barely could catch a break, the need of peeing mixed with the thirst, and your boss reprimanding you didn't make it any better. Your body was juggling with so many things at once, that all you wanted to do was curl up in a bathroom stall and cry. It was overwhelming and you were sure the cortisol levels were shooting heavenwards.

Appetite came and go, and when your lunch break came you had settled for the idea of some soup, but the second you stepped a foot closer to the cafeteria, the many smells oppressed your senses, overriding your brain with so much information it had you folding and puking into the nearest trash bin.

Your skin turned sweaty, devoid of a healthy color for a moment, some other workers looked at you with a mild disgust on their faces, one woman offered you a napkin, a man suggested you to sit down while giving you a bit of water from a nearby oasis. Both from the research department.

"You got sick from the food too, huh?" You nodded while chugging down the little bottle's content.

"We're gathering some signatures to open an investigation. Would be like ten of us now that get food poisoning."

The woman chattered but her voice was distant, despite her being next to you. An acute whistle rang in your ears, unable to hear her as her voice kept fading until it was nothing but a muffled echo in an open space, your eyesight blurred to finally shut off.

Darkness swallowed you whole.

----

The dim lights of the room and the careful shuffling movements behind the dull, plastic gray curtain lulled you back to reality.

An icepack was put on your head, with a little groan and queasiness subsiding, you sat on the stretcher. Your movements alerted the doctor in turn.

"Welcome back. How you feel?"

A question laced with a little of concern in her gentle voice.

Your head rested on the wall for a second before panic rose again.

"Shit... I... I gotta go." Your eyes rubbed the drowsiness away in a haste as you spoke, trying to get off the bed.

"No, no. Don't worry, your manager is already aware of this. You're fine."

A nurse came in and took your vitals and other info like your blood pressure and weight. How come you had gained a couple of pounds when you had been in a constant food poisoning?

Ugh.

"Everything seems normal enough, have you been experiencing fevers? rashes or any other sort of discomfort?"

"None of that. Just puking and fatigue. A lot of it." The doctor nodded as the nurse prepared a kit for you, it alarmed you greatly she included a pregnancy test.

Horrified eyes immediately widened at the package.

"W-Why... Is there a pregnancy test?"

"We're discarding any other options. And in case it comes out positive, remember that maternity leave is one of your rights as a worker here in Alchemax."

She spoke so unbothered unaware of the unnerving thoughts that ran loose in your mind.

Maternity leave?

"Just talk to your manager to meet an arrangement."

You nodded stupidly. Too stunned to actually pry further. You were dispatched a few minutes later, instructions of going home loud and clear. Not a minute more was wasted before you packed up your things and went out the building almost running home.

It couldn't be. You couldn't be.

All those plaguing thoughts you had once held at bay, were making a triumphant and assailant comeback in your head. What if you were pregnant?

No. No. No.

Denial was one hell of a drug, and right now you were the worst junkie hooked on it, ready to lash out with teeth and claws to whoever bold enough to take it away. You saw Miguel putting a condom on. He didn't strike you as someone that would raw fuck strangers for shits and giggles. Much less get them pregnant.

I'm not pregnant.

It was repeated in your mind like a mantra in an infinite loop. You had stopped in a drugstore to get a pair of other pregnancy test brands, just in case the ongoing madness was just a big jumpscare, to teach you a lesson to keep the horniness with strangers at bay.

For once, traffic was lenient on you and you got your place within less than twenty minutes. Never in your life had you been more at ease to be home. A shaky breath flew between nervous pants.

You tossed the medical kit on the table, rummaging through the diverse array of pills and vitamins the nurse packed you in, to get towards your objective. The neatly purple packaged pregnancy test, along the other ones.

The lock in the bathroom was turned as you got in, shielding your possible biggest fuck up from prying eyes and silent judgement aimed your way. You prepared their tip and one by one were soaked and put over the sink as your hands were washed.

The most torturous and heinous task laid ahead. Waiting, something you clearly hadn't the patience for right now. Not when the nauseas had returned, not when everything around you seemed to be crumbling bit by bit, shaking your sanity foundations to their very core.

Motherhood wasn't in your short, mid or long term goals, it wasn't something you often thought about cause in truth, you were sure you'd never be a good mother. The lack of one and foster home surfing made sure to blur the concept too much to be recognizable anymore.

There were days where you barely could put up against yourself, and having a baby would not only be detrimental for your mental health, but it would ruin you financially. Unless you'd get a raise or a better job.

A baby would change for good years of devoted planning towards a better position in life, work included. You were to participate in the administration programs within Alchemax next month, to get out of the receptionist label, aiming for a more career oriented position.

And maybe just maybe, your college degree wouldn't be mere words backed up by a fancy carton, hung up in your living room's wall, but prove to be something useful for once.

You were set to make that neck deep debt worth it.

Head rested against the coolness of the crips white tiles, banging softly against the wall as if shaking the over thinking would make the worry dissipate. Lips dry and quivering pursed as your eyes bore into the plastic material that had ruined and rekindled several relationships a year.

And now that you had unknowingly taken a ticket of 'With what am I gonna ruin my life this time?' and your turn was on the hypothetical screen, shining with blinding colors, you had to draw out the dreading prize life was about to grant you.

You stood again and collected the tests after what it felt like forever. Sweat clung to you like a second skin, bile and sourness bloomed in your tongue after rising in the back of your throat. Shaky hands brought the little device to your focus, and for a second you forgot how to breath and think. Two parallel lines on each of them, glaring mockingly at you.

Positive

"No!" You moaned over and over while tears blurred your vision. Breath hitched only to be released in a heartbreaking and distressed wail as you threw the pregnancy test against the wall, holding yourself in a shaky and rickety embrace, trying with all your might to keep yourself together.

You were pregnant.

"Oh God, no" Your hands grope at your hair with strength. Riping it out would surely be less painful than trying to assimilate this new inflection point that just showed unannounced in your doorstep in the shape of a baby. You didn't want it.

You didn't want to be a mom. It wasn't your dream. You had prioritized so many things already to have a baby to tumble all what you had worked so far and hard, down and away from your hands. It wasn't fair.

Yet there you were, bawling and drowning in fear, curled and hunched in between the floor and the wall's tiles, hopes and dreams crushed in tiny shards impossible to glue back together right before your eyes. Just like your heart and brains, trying to not choke with your erratic cries and breathings.

You didn't want a child.

How could this have happened? You had seen Miguel roll the condom on. What if it was defective? Had it broke and you didn't notice? Was he even paying attention to it? Of course not. Neither of you were and now the consequences were here, undisputed and irrevocably present in the three positive pregnancy tests.

You didn't want a child and much less one conceived from such a gruesome lie.

Another doleful stab and a new wave of tears soaked your already drenched and flushed cheeks upon remembering Miguel.

He was engaged with a beautiful woman. A woman that was looking for wedding venues to fulfill her dream of getting married to the alleged love of her life.

How would she react if she knew her future husband had not only cheated on her, but also had gotten you knocked up? You didn't even want to think about it.

Because there was none else in the picture, not before or even after the one night stand. Miguel had been the only one you have had sex in a long time.

You didn't know what hurt and angered the most. Knowing you were pregnant, telling him even knowing the implications of such thing, or having to give up on your dreams before they even took off.

Your breath turned into panicky and antsy pants, body trembling and unable to get a grip on your faculties as angry and mourning tears rolled unceasingly.

All of them soul wrenching and ghastly options you weren't ready to make. Motherhood had been an alien concept for you, something you avoided, not out of fear, but out of the awareness of knowing what being a mother required.

You weren't ready to give up your independence yet or your lack of responsibility to none other but yourself. Much less face things alone beyond your knowledge.

Scorching tears mourned the lost future you were dotingly paving, now lost to the unwilling duty of motherhood. A duty that refused to be only yours. You needed two for a tango, and Miguel had to know.

He was as guilty as you were. You for ignoring the signals these past two months and he for knocking you up. It all made sense now, and for all you knew cafeteria's food was good. Pregnancy had been the culprit all along and not your stupid and hopeful reasoning of a food poisoning.

A cold and unforgiving chill ran down your spine upon the impromptu question that took life in your mind.

How far were you?

Another quivering sob echoed while your spine straightened properly against the wall, dread weighed your head down upon the sudden realization of the foreseeable expenses. Prenatal and neonatal doctors, pediatricians, clothes, baby formula, diapers, medicines, toiletries, vitamins for you and-

You retched in the bathroom once more. Nauseous tidal waves were set into making a misery party out of you. It took you a while to calm the fried nerves to wash your mouth and move from the bathroom to grovel back to your bed in between newfound whimpers.

You went under the sheets, hiding your fuck up from the ever judging world. Society was either too praising or too harsh with pregnant women, always contradicting itself. Single parents were the most stigmatized along affair babies, they weren't something you'd parade proudly. Not when the pay off of such twisted and heinous encounter was developing within your womb. Leeching from your life, yearns and dreams, like an innocent parasite.

The news had not only left you disturbed, but for once the only thing you were grateful for, was the heavy and smothering fatigue that put you to sleep almost right away.

You called in sick. Unable to face the world and it's surprises for you. Head heavy and full of pestering thoughts that made sure to remind your new reality in each passing second.

For how long would you be in bed? For how long were you planning to hide and pretend nothing had happened? What time was it? Once more, the nauseas forced you to rush to the bathroom and retch. You hadn't even eaten breakfast yet, but it was the littlest of things your mind worried about.

You just laid there, on the coldness of the floor, watching the secluded space shrink around your frame the more you stared at it. Clawing and biting at your conscience, suffocating your tranquility.

Your phone buzzed, and kept buzzing on your nightstand, completely ignored.

What am I gonna do now?

Was another new mantra that replayed nonstop. Something had to be done, and all you could think of was nothing, despite the obviousness of the situation.

The buzzing again brought your attention back to your room. Bed was so inviting and seducing, but you weren't sleepy. Too deep in pins and needles to articulate any rational thought. With a sigh, you stood and marched back, taking an angry hold of your phone.

Four missing calls from Luke's Garage, a couple of text from your manager asking if you were alright, some pop up messages and ads and one missed call from MJ.

MJ. Your unstable friend in terms of communication. Not that you blamed her, life behind scripts and lines was hard enough to add you as a another burden in her life, even if you had seen her months ago. You'd talk to her later.

Your mind gravitated towards Luke's, hoping they had good news from your car. A little grey Fiat 500.

Grounding yourself onto that, you took a shower and got ready to go after replying to your manager. As strict as she was, she cared in her own tyranic way.

You went for the garage.

After arriving to Luke's, and finally get a bit of good news in the admist of chaos, you got your car back. He hadn't had the time for fixing it, but now it was all yours again.

A little incident with you retching not once but twice upon smelling food, had his wife squealing in joy at the realization of your pregnancy.

Guess you can't hide it from the experienced ones, huh?.

But thanks to her, you were instructed in what to do almost right away. Folic acid was a must and so was a visit to the gynecologist. You'd be lucky if you could afford the vitamins after all the expenses you had through the month with the car rides and food.

Changes were already settling in your life and as much as you rejected them, they had pushed you away from the steering wheel and imposed a new pace you weren't used to outside work. Fast and cruel.

You had bounced through the city, looking for an available doctor. Life didn't stop because you suddenly found out you were pregnant, even though your mind remained rattled and unstable, there were things you still needed to do.

At least worrying about your car was no longer one of those concerns, you didn't have to pay for rides, a little control was returned to you. A reward for getting out of bed? perhaps.

The doctor you had found was in a relatively rundown district of Nueva York, but the urgency of your predicament didn't leave room for being picky. Despite the crummy overall looks from the street and neighborhood around, the small and discreet women's care center seemed decent and clean enough.

Surprise ran rampant at how the milieu looked from the inside, it was one of those places you thought you'd never visit, not had the plans to do so in your life. But here you were, awaiting your turn while chewing on the inside of your cheeks as one of your legs bounced in anxiousness.

The smell of alcohol and other chemicals mixed in the air, shooing away the external and unpleasant odors . Walls were dressed in a soft blue, like the chair rows extending left and right. The doors remained white, just like the floor tiles. Some were broken, but remained spotless. Tattered in some bits but clean and borderline welcoming.

The staff wore sympathetic smiles at every woman that came in. You weren't the exception.

Your name was called, finally, and you stood. Car keys tinkering as you walked in the office, your little purse resting on the flat of your thighs. With a deep breath and a gulp on a dry throat, the appointment started.

Nine weeks. That's how far you were according to the paper in your hands and the ultrasound pictures adhered in the next page.

Your heart still thrummed upon the sight of the little heart on the screen, beating powerfully, as if in every passing contraction of the organ the creature would be saying loud and clear:

I'm here. I'm alive. I'm part of you now.

No.

You didn't want it to be part of you. You refused. And now that you had received counseling after letting the cat out of the bag with a total stranger, the two options remained in your hands. The doctor didn't pressure you into making any further appointments if you went for the most logic and reasonable option. Abortion.

Rather gave you time to think and mull over your decision. It was entirely up to you.

But what if he actually wants a child?

You laughed in between shaky titters at your stupidity.

Maybe he did, but that didn't mean it was with you by all means. You barely knew him, and the little things he had shown you so far was all the unwanted and negative traits a man could have.

Liar, cheater, irresponsible, cold hearted, cunning, a cynic and someone that was too aware of their actions to go by as innocent. A manipulator at best.

It was rather scary and confusing for you how some men could pass as loving and devoted lovers in their home, when they were the complete opposite outside.

A perfectly reversed street angel, house devil situation.

Now that you had the tools and options there was something more that needed to be done.

Telling him.

Even though your choice was already taken, and the possible outcome would only reinforce it, he needed to know, as undesirable as meeting him again was. Maybe it was your time to give him back a bit of retaliation to his silent bully and threats. You needed an explanation and that was nonnegotiable.

Anger finally rose past the initial terror. And it hit like a tsunami. Cold, unforgiving and oh so destructing.

You searched his information through the company's data. His picture came into view with his full chart.

Miguel O'Hara. Second head of the Laboratory and Research department.

And a cheating pig.

Sighing, you discreetly copied his contact number on your phone. If you were to face him, it needed to be just the two of you. You'd talk to Dana later, even if that meant to be scorned and resented by her forever. Luckily she was on her day off, or so her schedule on the screen said.

The thought of Miguel only infuriated you further, since he was pushing you towards things no sane person should be doing. Stalking, covering a devastating truth from a beloved one. Getting you pregnant while at it.

Unintentional, perhaps, but still you needed an explanation. Your mind set in getting it cause in all the categorical truth, you were tired. You were fucking tired of being the only one putting up a fight against the aftermath of his doings while he lived a normal life, blissfully ignorant of the awaiting mess that had his name all over it.

You were allowed to leave an hour early. Obviously, you'd seize that chance to ambush him at his leaving hours to drop the bomb. It wasn't a hundred percent spite, but more like half of it while the other was making him face the consequences. He had cornered you enough to finally get some backlash.

With a deep breath, you opened a new chat log on his name.

Messages were deleted and rewritten with all the things you wanted to say, but again, words were words and you were sure that his dismissive nature wouldn't even take them in consideration. So spilling your heart out in them was useless, you'd do it personally despite being terrified of him. You settled for a simple yet pithy one.

—We need to talk. Meet me at the parking lot.

The game was on, and you were ready to fight against the final boss. Upon the four o'clock ticked, you packed up your things and went straight to your car, waiting for him to show up. Your phone had been quiet ever since you sent the text message. The seen confirmation was the only indicator you got of him being aware of something going on.

Minutes kept ticking, passing and there was no sight of him yet, until your heart leaped to your chest upon spotting him around the corner. Impossible to miss him by his sheer height, a sore thumb among the rest. Stupidly handsome and uncaring as he swaggered over his car, a black BMW x7.

Leather briefcase in one hand, and phone smooshed between his left cheek and shoulder blade. By his bored and annoyed expression it was either something business related or talking to someone undesirable.

Just as you were opening your passenger's door to call his name, he opened his and tossed in the briefcase to then hop in while still in the call, he fastened his seat belt. Not even a minute happened when he turned on the car and left.

What is he doing?!

Frowning at his direct dismissal, you checked the message log again, only to find his profile picture gone and some little yet infuriating message on the bottom.

This number is unavailable for chat.

"Bastard."

It was all you could muster before angry tears welled up in your eyes. But it had been enough. You went back to fuming and drove back home. Next week for sure you'd catch him.

You've had enough.

Taglist:

@huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt @deputy-videogamer @sizeablysized @katitakenway @stealyourblorbos @beingdeluluisthesolulu @death-moth-art @obsessedwithromance @crybabiix @taeecups @tremendouswolfsaladranch @cherrycosmos392 @sbrn0905 @xylianasblog @elgatofx @eepiebeepie @vonev @tatatida @freehentai @scaryplanetdestroyer @minalovesyoubabes @emeloyy @migueloharastruelove @jdbxws @m4dyy @nyxzoldyck6 @fruitychae @francesca-the-1st @siidmm @ana-paulinathe-arts @artyanimi @damhanallagorm @aockskcw @lauraolar14 @

@death-moth-art @miss-taura @xylianasblog @serpentstarr @randomnobody187 @tayleighuh-deactivated20231030 @8xbygirl @artyanimi @ittybxttykxttytxtty @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #t writes✨#astv miguel #Of Flowers And Hummingbirds #slow burn #dana d'angelo #mj watson #Youtube

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ddarker-dreams · 2 months

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mini love report — chrollo lucilfer

relationship health diagnosis — 70%*

symptom one — perceptive

this man is an information sponge. he notices everything. as a thief, he's accustomed to canvassing his surroundings. he'll have memorized the layout of your home by the second visit. it isn't for any nefarious purpose (probably), he's just always taking in information and cataloging it.

naturally, this sagacity extends to you. the normal cadence of your voice, mannerisms, favored words, and expressions; he'll know if something's bothering you before you realize it yourself. he isn't above using this knowledge of you for his own purposes. he'll gauge your body language and shift his approach to contentious topics. this is a lifelong habit of his that's difficult to break.

chrollo knows what people want to hear and he's used to utilizing that advantage. however, if you point this out, he'll try curbing the behavior. especially if you stress that it's his actual opinion you want to hear, not specially curated platitudes. he finds your desire for a candid approach almost... impressive? you'd rather disagree with his unfiltered thoughts than gloss over anything touchy. it bolsters his respect for you.

symptom two — enigmatic

there's a noticeable difference in what you know about each another. he knows the names of your co-workers, friends, and family members, as well as your hometown, job or school, etc... you can't say the same regarding him. he keeps his origins ambiguous. the way he frames his upbringing makes you feel guilty should you go prying. chrollo will tell you that he's an orphan who had a rough, destitute childhood, but that's about it. he could easily make up a story, but he doesn't like lying to you. he doesn't want the version of him that you love to be a false construct.

yes, there's the technicality of lying by omission. he doesn't get caught up on that detail.

symptom three — a lil lame

interestingly enough, the suave part of his brain starts acting up when he's known you long enough. this isn't to say that he loses his charm, but it stops being his go-to. now he just nerds out (he prefers the term 'discusses') whatever's caught his attention. there's this gleam in his eyes as he tells you about the history of a painting or antique, a childlike awe. he isn't elaborating to impress you with his knowledge, rather, he enjoys sharing his interests. especially since you care, you aren't just humoring him.

chrollo's emotions come out naturally when he's near you. it's subtle — a twitch of his eye if someone cuts you off, a light blush should you murmur his name while asleep. these simple forms of self-expression are foreign to him. he's used to playing roles, not the aftermath once the stage's curtains close. his corporeal form was all the evidence he had that he existed. lacking a sense of self invokes this numb, hollow feeling. you're his new, favorite proof that he's alive. his world's brighter with you in it.

primary area of concern

objectively speaking, chrollo's an ideal lover. he respects, cherishes, and admires you, altercations are rare. should disagreements occur, he never raises his voice or displays aggression. he'll hear you out and apologize should he feel he's in the wrong. he takes you out on dates, stares at you as if you were divinity incarnate whether you're wearing pajamas or a formal outfit. he's whipped and you both know it.

it's his immortality that keeps his score from being higher. he wouldn't ever hurt you, but his compassion for others is nonexistent. this unsightly side of him is hidden from your sight. at the end of the day, he's a murderer who experiences zero remorse for the pain he's inflicted upon others. he leads a double life. you won't ever completely know him.

selfishly, he doesn't want you to.

prognosis

everything hinges on chrollo preventing you from finding out about his illicit activities. luckily for him, subterfuge is his second nature. he rarely stresses about it. he has the manpower and resources necessary to make just about anything happen. if you're a civilian, the chances you'll uncover his identity on your own are next to nonexistent.

your future together is a priority to him — he doesn't take commitment lightly. you're likely the first person he's fallen in love with. if you'd have him, he'd want nothing more than to be your lifelong partner. marriage is a tradition he's never given much credence to. although, after meeting you, he understands the appeal. now it's a matter of finding a ring that matches your radiance...

*the universe has tried (and failed) to wrench you apart (0-20) your friends are praying that you'll break up (21-40) 'well it could/has be worse' bargaining mindset (41-60) a lil messiness as a treat (61-80) pure and wholesome (81-100)

#chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #chrollo brainrot #mini love reports #valentines 2024 event

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wen-kexing-apologist · 3 months

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Symptoms of a System Error: The Manifestation of Myungha's Depression in Love for Love's Sake

Ok I will almost certainly have more thoughts about this when I go back to rewatch Love for Love’s Sake in the next couple weeks, but I’ve been thinking about the finale for the last couple of hours and I want to get some stuff out of my head. Before I get too far in to this, I want to say that I think most of the ambiguity in the show is brilliantly executed in a way that allows people to take whatever meaning they want to from it without contradicting each other, without stepping on toes, and without having to twist or bend the narrative beyond all recognition to make it make sense.

So I want to talk about the use of depression in this show, because the way Myungha exists in the world is recognizable enough to me that these moments of choice, and the system errors were extremely legible. That doesn’t mean my take is the correct one (and I honestly don’t think there is one right answer here anyway) but it’s what I got out of it, so with the needless ramble complete, let’s get to it.

Prologue

gif by @dramascene

I connected rather quickly to Myungha as a character from right near the beginning of episode 1 because of how passionate he was about the character of Yeowoon and how much he hoped for a happy ending for that character. As someone who processes a lot of my feelings, and who understands myself better through media consumption, I was quick to appreciate the fact that Myungha recognizes the parts of himself that speak to Yeowoon and to know that because Yeowoon is fictional, he has a chance not to suffer with merely a stroke of a pen. The Author could have chosen from the beginning to give Yeowoon a happy ending, and did not because he believes that there are people for whom bad things will never stop happening. But from the perspective of a fictional story, the Author should consider who he is writing the story for. Myungha connects to Yeowoon, and it sends one hell of a tragic message for how Myungha’s life will end up if even in fiction the people who suffer have no hope of happiness.

Myungha tells the Author that someone like Cha Yeowoon, someone like him [Myungha] with awful lives can still be happy. Looking back on that statement with the knowledge that Myungha kills himself, sends a very clear message, at least for me, of the hope that he was clinging to and finally lost his grip on. The Author asks if Myungha can change the outcome, and thus begins our story.

Debuffs

Now, I don’t know that I will have much more to say here than what @jemmo said in their very brilliant post, beyond the fact I agree with their interpretation of the debuffs. But I am thinking about the debuffs as it relates to mental health and to Myungha’s independence. One of Myungha’s first missions is to befriend Cha Yeowoon, and we see the difficulties associated with doing so when it comes to the Fondness Level meter and the debuffs that happen as a result. I love what Jess said about the dichotomy there: the debuffs mean that every time Myungha gets close to Yeowoon, something bad happens, Myungha uses that as a reason to stay away from Yeowoon to protect him when in fact, being around Myungha and increasing his fondness for him is the only way to really keep Yeowoon safe.

gif by @dramascene

And here again there is something recognizable to me in this dichotomy. Myungha likes Yeowoon, Myungha wants to be friends with Yeowoon, every time something bad might happen to Yeowoon, Myungha is there to intervene. But Myungha is convinced that the potentially negative events that might occur during a debuff are because of him, and so he avoids Yeowoon as much as he possibly can. To me this makes the debuffs a stand in for depression symptoms. Myungha has convinced himself that he is the cause of the bad moments in Yeowoon’s day. Myungha has convinced himself that Yeowoon would be better off if they weren’t friends, because he only makes things worse. And that is not something he can easily shake off, it’s not something he can logic his way out of, that’s the game, that’s just how it is. And so he withdraws until Yeowoon comes to him.

And honestly thinking about it, nothing bad really happens during those debuffs. The light doesn’t shatter, the boys back off on the bus, Yeowoon doesn’t punch Sangwon. Maybe the reason why nothing at all happens is because Myungha intervenes. Maybe if Myungha hadn’t been there, the light would have broken, maybe if Myungha hadn’t been there Yeowoon would have punched Sangwon. But that is not a lens that Myungha is capable of viewing himself through, that is never an option that crosses Myungha’s mind because he is too focused on feeling like the cause of Yeowoon’s problems.

System Errors

I know there is a lot of confusion or at least uncertainty around the system errors. Why are they happening? Where are they coming from? For me, I think the answer is Myungha himself. The first time we get a system error, it’s in Episode 6, what I think is the day after Yeowoon and Myungha have their first kiss and very soon after Yeowoon and Myungha kiss on the rooftop at school. The first error isn’t subtle, but it’s not explicitly stated. Myungha walks in to a room to take a phone call and walks in to the middle of band practice, falling through the world as he tries to remove himself from the situation until he (literally) runs in to Yeowoon. Myungha goes home that night and gets his first moments in the black abyss, and the first explicit mention via pop-up of a system error. I have not gone through (yet) to track every instance of what happens before a system error pop-up occurs from that point on, but I will say moment that was most legible for me in terms of indicating that these system errors were stemming from Myungha himself were when he gets the notification both times that Yeowoon looks directly at him and tells Myungha “I love you.”

gif by @dragonsareawesome123

That moment was a guy punch for me because I was not able to see it any other way except that Myungha is so incapable of believing that people could actually love him that someone telling him directly and sincerely that they love him cannot exist in his world. He literally cannot compute it, and thus an error occurs. Again from the perspective of depression, or trauma, or what have you, this is familiar to me. It is perhaps the most reflective part of Myungha to my own psyche. Neither of us know how to be loved.

Myungha is called out on this repeatedly, he is nice to everyone, he does so much for everyone and refuses to ask for help himself. I’m the same way, I will bend over backwards as much as I can to help the people that I care about, but it is a rare occasion where I can ask for help myself. I’m not sure if this is the case for Myungha, but for me at least a lot of that stems from needing to make myself useful to people in some way so they keep me around. And so I end up feeling like a commodity to the people that I care about and help, and merely tolerated by anyone else that I do not help but that interacts with me any way. Myungha is called out consistently by multiple people, real or NPC about this similar habit. Myungha does not want to be a burden, Myungha only cares about other people’s happiness, Myungha is not happy himself and has maybe never been happy and so he pours everything he can in to lightening the load for others.

He loves Yeowoon, but to be loved by Yeowoon is different. To experience any moments of joy cannot possibly be real. Maybe I am projecting too much on to the character, but it makes complete and total sense to me that Myungha’s worldview would break down upon having someone state wholeheartedly that they want to be a support system for him.

Cruel Choices

gif by @dramascene

With the enmeshment of depression and video game mechanics in mind, I want to talk about the scene at the end of Episode 6. I love this scene so much for a number of reasons:

It turns the game on a head for me as we slip further and further in to a nightmare scenario

It raises the stakes and attempts to get Myungha to make a hard choice

It forces Myungha to think about what is important to him

It’s ultimate purpose and who is posting the mission is ambiguous/uncertain

I’m going to focus on number four. I think it is a perfectly valid read to see this and all video game mechanics as designed by The Author in an effort to help Myungha change Yeowoon’s story in which case this mission feels particularly vindictive and cruel. @lurkingshan posed the question in a conversation we were having about Love for Love’s Sake, where she wondered why the game could not hold two sources of love for Myungha at once. I love that question because it made me realize how differently this show can be read and how important who you choose to read as the entity in control of this game is for what this scene specifically means and I love so many interpretations of it, I love the interpretation that is was simply cruel, I love the interpretation that in retrospect this was the Author being angry at Myungha for dying, I love the reflection from @jemmo that said this felt like a choice between staying rooted in the past (sparing grandma) or choosing a future (sparing Yeowoon)

For me, I think I am leaning heavily in to the pop ups are under Myungha’s subconscious control, his mind, the missions he thinks are important, the problems he thinks he is causing are what is driving the base game. Because of this my base instinct is to lean in to the depression/anxiety/trauma tent where things have been going a little too well for him lately and he has convinced himself that he is due for something bad to happen. I am happy to once again acknowledge that this probably projection, but I know that my own mental illness(es) does not let my peace linger for long. Myungha is spending so much time with Yeowoon, Yeowoon who grounds him when his world is literally falling apart. Yeowoon who cannot contain his smile whenever he is around Myungha, Yeowoon who is downright desperate to bestow love and support upon Myungha, Yeowoon who has accompanied Myungha to the hospital late at night to be there for his boyfriend in a stressful time, and Myungha can’t have that. He loves his grandmother, he loves Yeowoon, they both love him and so obviously means that something bad is going to happen to them.

gif by @25shadesoffebruary

[As an aside I am thinking about what the Author said in the final episode about wanting Myungha to be able to see himself from the outside, and how I took that to mean Yeowoon is supposed to be a reflection of Myungha and a journey to self love, and how Yeowoon told Myungha that something bad always happens to the people around him in relation to this hospital scene]

Secondarily, I do think being confronted with this choice at all allows Myungha to have a moment of reflection, and is clarifying for him to know that both Yeowoon and his grandmother are important people in his life that he doesn’t want to lose. That’s fucking huge, in my opinion at least. And for all this mission was cruel, it was the first time Myungha refused to complete the mission. He was asked to save one, he decided to save both, and the game could have been cruel and taken his grandmother and Yeowoon away for refusing to choose, but it didn’t. They both got to live, and sure Myungha’s mission to make Yeowoon happy was shortened significantly, but I do think fifteen days was enough time to be successful in his mission if the depression and the grief had not gotten to Myungha instead.

Grief

gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses

Something about grief that my therapist told me once was grieving people love helping others. And I think that is the case of Myungha here just based on the way he throws himself in to helping as many people as he can, especially Yeowoon. He knows Yeowoon is grieving, he knows Yeowoon is struggling, and he can distract himself from his own shit by helping Yeowoon instead. But once Myungha is confronted with the possibility that either one of the people that he loves could die, the penality for failing in his mission to make Yeowoon happy looms over his head like a knife. Just like Myungha considered himself the problem with the debuff, he knows how high of a likelihood it is that Yeowoon would regress, would isolate, would sink into a massive low.

And it would be Myung’s fault (in his mind).

Especially because Yeowoon keeps saying that even thinking about going on dates with Myungha is making him happy but Myungha’s mission isn’t complete. Myungha has started to get low, he is not as engaged in his relationship with Yeowoon, he’s convinced himself he is going to fail, and is thus setting himself up for failure because he decides 15 days is not enough time to find happiness, but it is enough time to break somebody’s heart in preparation for a devastating loss. And maybe, maybe Myungha would have snapped out of it with enough time to spare initially, but any hope of that being the case was shattered the second Yeowoon admitted that he wasn’t happy because Myungha wasn’t relying on him.

Myungha is so used to be self-reliant there is no way for him to break out of that habit in just two weeks. Myungha knew his death would hurt Yeowoon, but the final nail in the coffin for him was learning that his life was hurting Yeowoon too. And he almost got there, he almost did it, he admitted that he didn’t know how to, but he withdrew at the last second. He has spent all this time, all this energy, all this focus in to changing Yeowoon, he does not have the space to do that for himself.

The Choice

gif by @supanuts

The last moment I will really speak to as it relates to my interpretation of this game being controlled by Myungha as a manifestation of his depression is the author’s pen. Considering the fact The Author asked Myungha if he wanted to try again, I do not think if the Author was controlling this game world that he would have had Myungha disappear from it. Because according to the Gaga subs, the change that Myungha writes is that he wants Yeowoon to be happy, and immediately upon finishing that request, Myungha starts to fade.

If we hold these game mechanics as manifestations of Myungha’s depression, which I do, it makes complete and total sense to me that Myungha would fall back in to the pattern of believing that Yeowoon would be happier if Myungha wasn’t there. Yeowoon has a modeling deal now, he has some modicum of fame, he has friends now, he has supports in place that he did not have before, so what need does Yeowoon have of him, when his inability to let people love him is what is now causing Yeowoon to feel sad.

And I think that massive server error at the end where the world is burning and the universe is melting in to the game is a result of Myungha realizing too little, too late that this isn’t what he wanted. But it can’t be undone. The line he says when he is sinking in to the water about how at the last minute before he died, he regretted it. The game, the drowning here are one in the same to me.

And for me there was just something so beautiful and hopeful from Myungha telling The Author that he wants to try again. We started the show with Myungha telling The Author miserable people can be happy, and we end the show with Myungha and Yeowoon finally getting the happy ending they never thought they would have.

gif by @junghaesin

God I loved this show.

#love for love's sake #lfls #love for love's sake meta #love for love's sake analysis #one thing about this show is that it almost certainly will lend itself well to a rewatch!#and I *love* rewatching shows #wka long post

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