I have a lot of thoughts rn but the thing that's really sticking is how many people genuinely think Helia is some egotistical asshole who looks down on the other specialists and genuinely thinks he's better than people? It's... a startingly amount of the fandom who thinks this and it's so weird to me. Like... are we watching the same show?
I'm sorry but literally where does it ever suggest that Helia thinks this way? The same Helia who's constantly cheering them on, constantly comforting them, constantly reminding them to slow down and take it easy when they're being too hard on themselves? The same Helia who has a breakdown whenever he makes a mistake because he genuinely thinks the others will think less of him and hate him? The same Helia who constantly compares himself to others while also telling the specialists to not do that because it's not healthy and will only make them feel worse? The same Helia who immediately drops everything he's doing when they ask him for help but never pushes when they don't want it?
And listen, I'm not saying he's perfect by any means. I'm one of the loudest "Helia actually has a lot of problems that the fandom largely ignores" people. But this idea that he's egotistical and looks down on others... it's so weird to me.
I mean this in a nice way but I genuinely think some of you are mistaking his chronic perfectionism, overly critical eye of himself, and acknowledgment of his own abilities for being egotistical. Helia has a bad need to be perfect and reliable and good and he freaks out whenever he doesn't meet his own standards. He's also hyper critical of himself and constantly analyzing his actions and abilities and comparing them to his peers and teachers. This perfectionism and being too critical of himself makes him hyper aware of his own abilities. Helia knows what he can do and what he can't. He knows what the others are capable of and what would be pushing it. That's literally it. That's not egotism??? That's literally just him being too analyzing??? And like I'm sorry but that kind of attitude, while not great mentally, is almost needed in that field because he's one of the few characters who knows where to draw the line so they don't straight up fucking die. Even Riven starts to respect that after getting to know him better.
And I think it's important to note that his feelings about being perfect are never directed towards the others. He never makes them feel bad for not being able to do something. He's never made fun of them or insulted them for not getting something. Out of all the specialists, Helia and Brandon are consistently the ones to hype the others up. Helia has some expectations of them but those are natural ones that come with being specialists. Things that they are consistently able to live up to because it's literally just things they have to do as specialists.
I'm just so confused about why so many people think this??? Is it the later seasons??? What are y'all watching??????? No offense but if you're basing this off of later seasons that's the same vibes as calling Stella a spoiled brat because of s5.
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Y'know I have a new pet peeve I think.
I really do not like the shortening of "delusional" to "delulu"
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♱ ‧₊˚ just dirty, gross, messy kisses with rafe.
currently not on speaking terms, you eye rafe from across the room. the party you’re at is dark, save for a few strobe lights obnoxiously blaring in your corner vision. rafe blames them for his lack of, say— decorum. but who could blame him? when they made you look so good, variegated colours painting your dancing body in just the right way, reds and blues and purples cascading against your soft skin— that soft skin— he nearly forgets why he’s even mad at you, and he needs to get his hands on you, or he felt as if he might implode. the lights, they make him impulsive. desperate. unlike himself.
by the time he reaches you, he gives you no time to recuperate, rough hands exploring your hips, his pelvis pressed shamelessly against yours as he backed you out of sight, mouth desperate in search of yours. one thing about rafe, is he didn’t waste any time.
his tongue slides its way into your mouth same as his fingers slot themselves into the waistband of your shorts, toying with the string of your thong in amusement. you can’t get a word out, he’s so assertive, and it’s dizzying. it only makes the whole ordeal more maddening. he’s ignored you for a week now— is this his way of apologizing? luckily, you’re more patient than he is (which is why the two of you work so well together, despite what he says), and your hands find their way to his face, forcing him away from you— partially to take a breath, partially to try and get a word in. his lips chase yours as you move him away, parted and swollen and glossy. “what exactly—“ he’s moved to your neck now, impatient, “—prompted this, cameron?”
he was never good with words. he couldn’t express clearly enough that you just looked too fucking good, it was driving him crazy. he couldn’t express that he couldn’t give a fuck about why he was mad at you anymore, or how he suddenly felt like he didn’t care about your so called “attitude”. he couldn’t explain the lights. so instead, he resorted to sucking onto your neck, hands delving deeper into your waistline and pulling you closer to him, bodies pressed together, sweaty, frantic. “don’t get to walk in here like you own the place.” he mumbles, a bit too harshly, as he sinks his teeth into the newly formed bruise he’s made on your neck. his pants tent when you let out a whine.
desperate and drunk, you tug at his waistband, soliciting a groan from the tall boy that allows you to reinsert your mouth onto his. it was a pathetic sight, the two of you: drooling, tongues shoved down each other’s throats, hands wandering.
“the lights,” he starts, in between kisses, and your brows furrow, small smile forming as you wait for him to continue, “make you look so, fucking good,” kiss, “couldn’t let—“ kiss, “anybody else see you”, kiss, kiss, “had to take what’s mine.” kiss. he growls this, in a way that makes you shiver, thighs pressing harder against his own.
“think you’re the shit, huh? actin’ like i cant see you eyeing me. shit pisses me off. need to put you in your place.” every word he says is in one ear and out the other, you’re too entranced by the gravely way he spits his words at you, voice reverberating into your core. i’m sorry, rafe, you mumble— not entirely sure he can even hear. the gesture is received, all the same, when you let him drag you into the bathroom around the corner.
the lights, he thinks. thank god for the lights.
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