#I'm posting this because I had a fucking panic attack thinking about a repeat of 2016

[xanthera]

Stop posting memes about how Joe Biden is so mediocre that he isn't even worth voting for, you're going to make people not want to vote at all and we'll have a repeat of 2016 when people were too lukewarm about Hillary to consider how bad Trump would be. I swear to god, if you actively post that shit I have to assume that you're either a psy-op account or you've been duped by them. I've seen mutuals that I KNOW are more intelligent than that posting those memes and it's making me want to tear my hair out because I really thought y'all knew better.

Yes, the Democratic party is using our legitimate fear of the GOP's fascism as a way to enforce the status quo and avoid making meaningful change. You do know that we still need to vote for them anyway, right? Like, you know that, right? It's important to me that you know that. It's called fucking harm reduction. Harm REDUCTION. Not elimination, reduction.

Y'all motherfuckers act like we're complicit in our own oppression because we're willing to make progress slowly rather than demanding instant perfection and losing to the greater evil when that inevitably fails. It sucks, but being an adult means making hard decisions. There are no good choices, only less bad choices. You still have to make a choice.

Stop encouraging people not to vote. Both sides are not the same. Leftist anti-Biden memes are counterproductive, please stop doing the work of the Russian psy-op accounts for them. I know you're angry, I'm angry too, but I want you to know the deep, soul-crushing fear of a repeat of 2016 that fills me when I see you post that shit. I legit had a flashback of election night 2016 and it sent me spiraling for like an hour, I honest to god almost threw up remembering how crushed and scared I was that night when I realized what was going to happen.

The overton window has been pushed to the right. We can't push it all the way left instantly, it got here over time, and it's going to take time to push it back. Fucking deal with it. Instant gratification is impossible in politics. Post your memes when we're no longer in active danger of a second Trump term. God damn, grow the fuck up.

[yasministration]

Imma just fix up my request here- congrats on 3k btw!!!

so since i saw the req were open for the celebration, i thought id request according to that; I'd like a winter with quotes "i'm saying this because i care about you" and "i just want you to be happy" and the blurb (?) like a ploy marauders x reader (but its like that time b4 the war and so pete is like contemplating joining the dark side and they're all worried and trying to get him to rethink?)

it could be based on "Devil doesn't bargain" by alec benjamin(?) Like they're all trying to keep him from joining Voldy-baldy, and it's all angsty but fluffy. You can choose a happy or tragedic ending :) Hope it's okay, thank you and have a good day!

When the war is over - poly!marauders

ʀᴀɪɴʏᴅᴀʏᴀᴛʜᴏɢᴡᴀʀᴛꜱ' 3ᴋ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ! summary: with the war escalating, everyone is rethinking their values, and it seems like yours don't match with one of the people closest to your heart. wc: 1666 (speak of the devil) forgot to post this yesterday but oh well

The silence between you and the other marauders was deafening, the underground wizard news channel on the muggle radio finally cutting off. The only sounds you could hear were the boys’ breathing, particularly Peter’s racing breath. He was going to have a panic attack. You stood up, quietly moving across the room to sit next to the anxious boy. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead as you whispered soothing words to him. The words on the radio hadn’t soothed anyone, only adding onto the increasing stress in regard to the situation.

“What if he kills my parents?” Peter finally spoke, causing the other three boys’ heads to perk up. “Pete, your parents are safe.” “But if he finds out I’m in the order he’ll kill them, he’ll-” You brought Peter closer to you, and he dug his face in the crook of your neck as he broke into heartbreaking sobs. Worriedly, you looked over to the three other boys sitting in James’s childhood bedroom. What was Peter insinuating? James held his head in his hands and he was crouched over, thinking deeply. Remus and Sirius were cuddled up together, returning your gaze. Remus shrugged, his arms visibly tightening around Sirius’s body.

“James, are you alright love?” James lifted his head from where he was resting it, allowing you a view of his teary waterline. You gestured for him to come to you with a nod of your head, and the boy abided, taking long steps before slumping next to you on the couch. You put one hand on James’s thigh, leaning over to press a kiss on his cheek and the boy sniffled as his eyes betrayed him, a tear running down the length of his soft cheek. You lifted your hand off James’s thigh, outstretching that arm so he could fill the space in front of it, comforted by the warmth you had to offer.

Suddenly, Peter pushed away from your chest, standing abruptly to begin pacing. “If he finds out I’m in the order, he won’t just kill my parents, he’ll kill everyone I love.” Peter repeated, his tone now factual and determined. He halted his step, turning to look straight at you. “Pete…” “Just listen to me. I’m saying this because I care about you. If I was on his side, he’d leave all of you alone. My parents, you, the boys.” James lifted his head from where it was hidden, his face now red and wet from his silent crying. “So you’re going to betray everything we stand for so he ‘doesn’t kill us!? “ James yelled angrily, tears still streaming down his face. “If only it were that easy Pete! If everyone was so focused on not getting killed rather than doing the right thing, no one would be on the order’s side!” You put a hand on James’s bicep, quietly muttering his name as Peter replied with “Well I’m sorry not everyone is fucking suicidal!”

Remus stood up from the bed, alert now that things were escalating. “I think we’re all just a little bit tense. Let’s not make any impulsive decisions.” Remus’s words didn’t get a response from anyone, so you gestured for him to sit down with James whilst you stood up, taking careful steps towards Peter. You slid both your hands into his, looking deeply into his eyes. “Pete, my love. I just want you to be happy. We all just want you to be happy. But before we can all live happily ever after, we need to fight this. If you join his side, no matter what, things are going to end badly for you. Voldemort doesn’t believe in loyalty. If you make a single mistake, he’ll kill you.”

Peter brought you into a tight hug, his face hidden in the crook of your neck. “I don’t want to die.” He whispered to you, and the despair in his voice brought tears to your eyes, blurring your vision. You raised a hand, snaking it in Peter’s hair and you mumble “I don’t want to die either, Pete.” You made eye contact with Sirius across the room, who looked ready to pounce on Pete if he made the wrong decision. “But… But I have to stand for what I believe in. And if that means I die in war, then I’ll die with honour.” “Don’t say that.” Sirius cut in, standing up suddenly. “We’re going to fight in this war, but no one is going to fucking die. Voldemort will only get weaker from here. His troops are already fleeing because they don’t trust him.”

His gaze was locked on Peter, and despite the other boy having his back turned towards him, Sirius directed every single word to him. “How are you going to join a man to ‘stay safe’ when his own soldiers are hiding away from him? If you think he’s going to keep you safe Pete, you’re wrong.” “Be nice!” You cried, feeling the tears dribble down your face. Sirius stepped towards you, bringing your face in his hands to wipe away at your tears. Sirius kissed you softly, mumbling an apology against your lips. But it was aimed towards you, not the boy in your arms.

“She’s right.” Remus spoke again. He was holding James just like you were holding Peter. “We need to be nice. Look how we’ve already upset each other so much! We’re supposed to be a team, and if we can’t stand together during this time, then we don’t love each other as much as we thought we did.” You nodded, unwrapping Peter from your hold to sit down on James’s bed, fiddling with the sleeves of your jumper. “We’re all feeling a lot of emotions,” You started, watching as Sirius sat down next to you. “I think we should just try to sleep things off tonight and speak like adults tomorrow.”

Sirius pressed a kiss on your forehead, and you leaned into his touch, wrapping both your arms around his waist in a loose hug. “I agree.” He said, and the two boys who sat across from you echoed his same words. Your eyes glimmered with new tears when you realised Peter hadn’t answered. “Pete?” The boy nodded, but he made no move to sit down with anyone. James stood up silently, opening the sofa-bed he and Remus were sat on so that everyone had space to sleep.

Sirius climbed onto the sofa-bed with Remus, and James joined you on the bed, leaving the blankets off so you could cuddle next to him before he threw them back over your figure. “I’ll join you guys in a bit.” Peter spoke, walking out of the door, for what you assumed was taking a breath of fresh air.

But when you woke up the next morning, there was a letter on your side of the bed. You yawned tiredly, looking around the room to find three out of the four boys in the room. You blinked away the tiredness, swallowing thickly when you finally spotted the letter on the bedside table.

“I’m doing this because I care about you, and love you more than anything else in the world. I won’t let him kill you, or any of the boys. I’ll make sure of that.

I’ll find you when the war is over, but for now, I have too many people I need to keep safe. I left you my blue jumper you like to borrow. Please wear it.

All my love,

Peter”

You didn’t realise you were crying until a loud sob escaped your chest, and Remus jolted awake, his big movements waking Sirius up in the process. You felt as though you couldn’t breathe, bringing a closed fist up to aggressively wipe away at your tears. Remus was in front of you in an instant, asking if you were okay and pulling you into a hug, but Sirius was the one to take notice of the piece of parchment in your hand. “Fuck!” Sirius yelled, scanning through the words quickly. James stirred slowly, arms closing around the empty space you previously laid in. Realising your absence, James cracked his eyes open, adjusting to the scene in front of him.

At the sight of the three of you piled on one side of the bed, James straightened up, a list of questions on the tip of his tongue. The letter answered each and every single one. “The traitor.” James muttered disappointedly, a hand coming up to soothingly caress your back. Remus shot him a warning look, glancing down at your sobbing figure in his arms. “He better never show his face or I’m going to fucking kill him.” “Sirius, don’t say that!” You cried, pushing Remus away from you and standing up, pacing around the room. “He thinks he’s - he’s fucking saving us.” You spotted the blue jumper he wrote about in his letter and grabbed it, staring at it with resentment. You sped towards James’s window, tossing the sweater out before you cried “I hate him! I fucking - I hate him!” The three boys watched you with teary eyes as you cried over Peter, holding you tightly in their arms until you finally decided you were done grieving.

In a few hours, he was dead to you. His betrayal, despite his good intentions, had gone against everything you stood for, so the next time you saw him on the battlefield, instead of running towards him when you spotted him, you flinched away from him, letting James step in front of you with his wand held up. Peter had looked betrayed, but he wasn’t the Peter you knew. There was no life in his eyes and he sported a terrifying dark mark on his arm. When you realised he wouldn’t harm you, you held James by the arm, tugging him away from your past so that you could find a way to survive this war and live into the future.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes

[hellyeahsickaf]

I get disability memes on my Pinterest feed but after getting one for ER Drs/nurses that I found concerning, I kept seeing more and more like it and I went down a rabbit hole. I know it's one of the most stressful jobs someone can have and I really appreciate the medical staff that have been kind to me. These things are definitely made by the types of people who haven't been.

I think it's important because memes are kind of a way to let off steam but they mean what they're saying. They're not just jokes but they're framed in a way that they can say it more comfortably. Sometimes they're just straight up admitting to crimes and malpractice. It's like when someone says something that crosses a line in a joking tone so that if you feel attacked they insist it's just a joke and you're taking it too seriously. But my life is constantly in the hands of these people and I've been mistreated time and time again by medical personnel

I'm gonna go through them because honestly I hate them and there are a lot of repeating themes

These are extremely common. The focus of the meme being that a whiny patient is asking for pain medication that they clearly don't need. Something commonly mentioned in these is disbelief that the patient has an allergy because it's common for someone trying to get drugs to claim they have an allergy.

Also the Confucius one is both ableist and racist so double whammy I guess!

I've dealt with people I know are silently assuming this of me. I'm allergic to NSAIDs- deathly allergic and at risk for asphyxiation or anaphylactic shock. Medical staff sometimes have this attitude of "we know when you're faking your pain" (no really I had one say this shit on my post about this) and that has traumatized me immeasurably because they'd rather me wait for 4+ hours in some of the worst pain of my life than risk the possibility of me being an awful scheming mustache twirling addict.

This category is just as common. "I don't like you so I'm going to drug you". That's more fucked up than they seem to think it is.

Then there's the category of "you're a whiny little bitch and I don't believe a word out of your mouth". Which contributes heavily to medical malpractice and abuse

Again these are doctors and nurses making these, people responsible for treating patients with care and dignity and respect. Especially if they want any in return

Aaaaand this one is just a crime. One that's happened to me actually- reporting examinations that never happened to get rid of me because I was such a nuisance (crying, hardly coherent, drenched in sweat, 9/10 pain on arrival)

And then there are the ones like "don't mess with me because i handle your treatment/meds 💕". Things like "the way you treat me is the deciding factor for how fast I'm going to get your painkillers 😊". Which to me is just... evil?

I've never in my life mistreated medical staff but people in a lot of pain get mean sometimes. It's a survival instinct actually- for aggression to accompany pain or panic. Not that it's ever okay but it isn't personal

These are just a few examples really, there are so fucking many of these with this awful, cruel, cynical tone. There are some funny ones that aren't mean or degrading towards patients but so many of them are and in nearly every one I see a mean spirited healthcare worker that I've encountered at some point who damaged me in ways I will never psychologically recover from

[hot-in-a-dress]

Peter Bishop, aka God's Multiversal Apology

Preface note: I've currently been watching/rewatching Fringe, and I have Thoughts, so expect this to be the first of many posts.

First of all, I just need to talk about how much I love Peter Bishop. Not necessarily as a character crush (although it's not not that), but just generally. For all of his background and all of his emotional issues going on, I would have expected him to be a lot more..toxic? I mean, when we first see him he's a bit of a bad boy type, and generally mean to both Walter and Olivia, but I'm glad that the writers knew where the line was. His actions at the beginning of the show are demonstrations of how he's been closed off and running from his past, currently living in a state of hyper independence where he feels like he can't really trust anyone. I think that if it continued for too long, those traits could easily have made him really dark really quickly, and they could have overpowered any grounded moments that he had. Instead, the writers cut/heavily dilluted that aspect of the character pretty early on. At the very least, by the midpoint of season one, he's already started to soften up a bit, and his mean streak becomes the more sardonic charm of Peter that audiences love. By the end of season one, he's downright affectionate.

Speaking of affectionate, I absolutely live for the way he treats Olivia after that mid-season change. I think it would have been pretty easy for the writers to make him a tough-love, "get a fucking grip", push-her-to-the-breaking-point type, similar to earlier Broyles, and instead Peter treats her with such....gentleness.

When she has a panic attack in "Bad Dreams", he goes to comfort her. He clearly makes moves to touch her, but the motions that he makes are really carefully placed in front of her where she can see him, and he backs up/moves his hands away so as not to seem restricting. He doesn't even make contact with her until he knows that she's in a grounded enough place to handle it. That level of respect for her space and emotions is something not often seen in media, and not necessarily expected to come from their (at this time) still vaguely antagonistic relationship. Not only does it show his respect for her, though, just his willingness alone is something that feels so personal. It was one of the first examples of Peter's really deep compassionate streak that he has (especially in terms of Olivia), and it stuck out to me that...at that time, he had no reason really to comfort her. He was still in a more professional setting, and they hadn't quite developed the same level of emotional understanding they have in later seasons. And yet he was so ready to go after her, and so ready to offer not only words, but actual, physical comfort. He held her so tightly, once he knew he could. As all of Olivia's backstory becomes more and more apparent to both audiences and herself, I appreciate these moments even more. She isn't used to gentle men in her life, so the fact that Peter comes along, and he respects her, and trusts her, and most importantly, is gentle with her when she needs him to be, showing her time and again what true love and affection can be, it's just..fucking precious to me. It's everything she deserves and more (though that's a different post entirely).

Anyways, it's also really charming to me that physical contact is a repeated pattern with Peter. From a character perspective, that's so fascinating. He has faced such traumas throughout his lifetime that he seems like a character that would be really hesitant to form connections, and rightfully so. Yet, not only is Peter empathetic, he is so overtly physical about it. Whenever someone else is in pain, Peter becomes a comforter and a protector. And every time he does, it feels like that "he healed something he didn't break" moment. It seems like Peter, who comes from such brokenness and secrecy, just wants to keep the people around him safe, because he's seen the absolute worst things that can happen. He had every right to be angry and cruel, but instead he chooses to be an anchoring point for the people around him, and absolutely loves them fiercely.

It's not that Peter is flawless. He's known to be a bit aggressive, and often dismissive of Walter, among many other instances of recklessness, plus a couple counts of fraud. Yet at the same time, to me, those flaws don't make his love and compassion any less merit worthy. It just makes him a complex character. It's the reason why he feels so stand-out from other characters of that genre of show, and other tropes of The Leading Bad Boy. Peter Bishop at his heart is just...written beautifully, and he's exactly the type of healthy masculinity that sci-fi tends to lack. He's God's Apology, across all the multiverse, and I am absolutely here for it.

[billyharringson]

@101maverick I've put this in a separate post so my original one doesn't get too long but here is your ficlet with tattoo artist Steve and florist Billy.

I really enjoyed writing this and might expand this into a proper fic at some point.

"just go talk to him, dingus." Robin said, causing Steve to tear his eyes away from the window.

"Just go talk to him? Do you hear yourself Buckley?" He asked, returning to his spying as their newest neighbour continued moving about his own shop, carrying a large bucket filled with brightly coloured roses. He gestured behind Robin to the whiteboard she'd hung there a year ago. "You said so yourself, I can't flirt for shit."

Robin glanced at the board, at the 10 tally marks under the 'you suck' column. "I didn't say flirt, I said talk. Go and talk to him."

"What would I even talk to him about?" Steve whined, leaving the window and flopping over the reception desk. "Why would a god like that even speak to me?"

Robin rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. "Jesus Steve, keep it in your pants okay? Besides, he's tatted to fuck, you've already got something in common." She gestured around at the shop when Steve simply looked blank. "Tattoos dude, he's covered in 'em, you do 'em. Use that as a jumping off point."

"But..." Steve trailed off when the bell above the tattoo shop jingled. He turned to greet whoever had come in and promptly had a minor panic attack.

It was the florist.

Standing there in his tanned, tattooed glory. His golden curls piled on top of his head in a messy bun, a pair of stonewashed dungarees and no shirt, the man didn't even seem to realise that he was a walking wet dream, or that Steve was having trouble breathing.

"Hey." The man said, his smile blinding as he raised a hand. "I'm Billy. I moved in across the road last week, got the flower shop just there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, his smile dimming somewhat when Steve didn't respond.

"Nice to meet you Billy." Robin said, shoving Steve forward. "The mute here is Steve, he owns the place. I'm Robin, I help his dyslexic ass keep the books."

Billy laughed, walking further into the shop, holding his hand out and beaming when Steve took it. "So, you're the artist huh? I've been admiring your work since I got here." Billy pointed to some of the framed sketches that lined the walls. "What's your waitlist like?"

"Oh, uh... Depends what you want really." Steve finally found his voice, this he could talk about. "What do you have in mind?"

Billy leant against the reception desk, tugging one of the dungaree straps down, exposing one of the few bits of unblemished skin just above his right nipple. "Here I think." He said, tapping the skin. "Another flower, about this big." He circled the spot.

Steve nodded along, pulling his sketch pad towards him as he continued to stare at the exposed skin. "Which flower?"

Billy's grin grew. "What do you know of flower language?" He asked.

Steve blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, I know it exists but I don't know that much about it. Roses mean love though right?"

"Red roses do." Billy agreed, nodding his head. "Or more specifically they mean passion, romance." He traced a beautiful watercolour rose on the inside of his wrist.

"Was it a rose you wanted?" Steve asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters, his cheeks were warm and he was sure he was pink despite the fact that this conversation seemed completely innocent.

Billy shook his head. "No, not a rose. I'd like a green carnation." He said with a wink.

Steve was now certain that he was glowing with how red he must be, because he might not know about flower language but he knew enough LGBTQ history to know what that meant. "A green carnation." He repeated.

"Yup." Billy popped the 'p', his grin just as cocky as it had been since he'd walked in. "You like green carnations Steve?"

Steve nodded, swallowing loudly as he tried to come up with the courage to say what he wanted to. "I do." He said quietly. "Do you like trilliums?"

Billy's face lit up. "I love me a good trillium."

Steve smiled bashfully, looking down at his sketch pad. "I can book you in on Friday, last session of the day."

"Perfect." Billy stepped closer, leaning in and whispering his next words into Steve's ear as he slid a business card across the desk. "That way I can take you out for a drink after, can't I my pretty trillium?"

For info green carnations are a historic symbol for gay men and trilliums are a slightly more recent symbol for bisexuals.

[defire]

[sry think I forgot to post this yesterday]

Ghost of Seattle Chapter 37

Previous chapter

Content: bullying, grief

"You don't leave Shiver, you kill yourself."

"But I don't wanna die."

"Then don't fuckin leave Shiver, dumbass."

It was about a week after the raid on the Cult. Ghost was on crutches but he insisted on going with Ray, who laughed and called him a pussy for using crutches anyway.

At 4am, it was extremely cold, and most were still asleep. Blessing held up a stop-hand to them from the roof.

"Wait." He said.

He went back and they heard him climbing down the back.

He and Connor came out the front in a minute.

"Why do you always insist on coming here at ungodly hours?" Connor said, tilting her head sassily.

Ray pointed at Ghost.

"Cause he's a fuckin pussy."

"Oh right." Connor smacked her forehead. "Albino. Can't you just wear glasses though?"

Ghost glared at Ray for calling him a pussy, but Ray didn't seem to notice.

"Well, he's the teacher's pet." Ray said, whatever that meant.

Connor shrugged, probably also confused.

"Anyway," Ray said. "I'm here to present an offer from Shiver."

"An offer?" The circles under Connor's eyes seemed to deepen with stress.

Ray cleared his throat.

"The Cult is much more likely to counter-attack Offshoot instead of Shiver, as a show of power."

"I know." She said, folding her arms. "If they can find us."

"So let Shiver help." Ray said.

Ghost sighed, clenching his teeth. 

"Move into our territory, and we'll protect you." Ray said.

"And... What do you guys get?" Connor said, pressing her lips together.

"Just keep trading with us. We've scouted a location, me and Buddy. Fresh water, comfortable housing."

"What do you get out of all this?" Connor repeated. "Why should I believe you won't just destroy us?"

Ray grunted in annoyance.

"Just tell her, Ray." Ghost said. "She's smart."

Ray rolled his eyes.

"Connor," He said. "You Offshoot are anything but a threat to Shiver. You're a symbol of the Cult's weakness, and in Shiver territory, you'll hold the city's access to clean water... under our thumb. Fuck with Shivers, and they'll lose their clean water. Make sense?"

Connor raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath.

"Well, thank you." She extended her hand. Blessing grabbed it.

"Connor..." He whispered. "Remember?"

She groaned and sighed.

"Fine. I'll think it over."

"Think quick." Ray said, turning to go.

Ghost didn't follow him.

Ray smacked his good arm. 

"Come on!" 

"I gotta tell her something. I'll catch up."

Ray sneered at him, jerking his chin at Ghost's embarrassing crutches.

"In those?"

"Yes." 

Ray huffed and went off fast.

Blessing retreated, seeming to sense that Ghost had something delicate to tell her.

Fucking painfully delicate.

"Connor, I--" Ghost grabbed at his left arm and squeezed above the injury. That kinda hurt, but it helped. "I hurt your brother... I think I killed him."

He clenched his jaw, then looked up at her.

Connor was frowning soberly.

"I heard a rumor that he died in the raid. I didn't know it was you."

"I..." Ghost hesitated, realizing he had nothing to say, nothing to help.

"Why?" Connor said. She had tears in her eyes, but she was biting both lips in her mouth and blinking.

Ghost's stomach twisted. 

"Because I--he was kicking the shit out of me. I grabbed a chair leg."

She nodded fast.

"So you had to."

"I didn't have to." Ghost said, feeling panic, not guilt, dropping into his stomach. "He asked me where you were, and I wouldn't say, and I was so afraid he'd catch me and start it up again. So I wanted to kill him. But I'm so sorry--"

"Stop apologizing."

Ghost stopped, wide-eyed. Connor stepped toward him and hugged him over his crutches. She was surprisingly gentle.

"You took all that, to protect me?" She let go. "There's even more guts in you than I thought."

"Aren't you... mad?"

She shrugged one shoulder. 

"You did your right." She gave him her tight-lipped smile. "It's just... Unfortunate."

She turned away and sniffed like she was crying. Ghost looked away too.

"Did he... did he say anything to you? I mean..."

"He said, 'I'm sorry, Connor.' Before he decided to beat me up." Ghost said. "I don't know why."

"Mhm." She nodded fast and sniffed. "Just some bad blood between us." She smiled. "For what it's worth, Ghost... I'm glad you didn't let him kill my friend."

"Who?" Ghost said. 

"You!" Connor laughed, wiping tears off her eyes. "Dammit! Crying kills a man these days."

Ghost nodded. 

"I'm grateful." He said. 

"Don't be." She said coarsely. "Look at yourself. Go get some rest."

Ghost nodded, sighed and hobbled away.

Tag list: @joyjoygorl @cepheusgalaxy

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Kindle book: Masterpost: Next:

[callsigndreadfrost]

I reached the tag limit on that post. So consider this a continuation.

13 inches of a scar they look at from time to time only to be reminded of the pain they caused their friends and loved ones because they couldn't fucking cope with the fact that the tiny bit of hope they had left was violently ripped out of them the second they decided they wanted to know what they really were. Not to mention the horror or knowing all they damage they could've done had they died that day.

Oh, the separation anxiety because nothing says co-dependency like needing your brother around and near you 24/7 because you decided to make your brother a living safety blanket. To be fair, he did the same with you so it's a mutual co-dependency that both have with each other that is seen by others as not normal and some have even suspected a little more goes on which isn't true but neither of them are above pranking others for thinking that. There IS some playfulness with each other in certain scenarios though it doesn't go further than that (not to be crass but no, they've never been inside each other).

And on that topic there's the results of the assault they were subjected to. What was done to them was ugly and it scarred them to the point of the idea of them being fully nude makes them freeze and do the thousand yard stare. For months every single time they had sex they kept repeating in their head, "I'm not here." Which then graduated to, "I asked for it this time." Until eventually they were comfortable enough to not have to reassure themself. Shirt and/jacket's not coming off though. That's a guaranteed panic attack.

And on anxiety. Anxiety brought on by health issues. When's that next migraine attack? When's the insomnia gonna start/stop? How much more physical pain can they tolerate before they go insane?

Feelings of alienation, like they don't belong anywhere, wishing they weren't them--daydreaming they weren't this walking eldritch mess and wishing no one else knew but the damage is already done and there is NOTHING they can do about it. Trying to hide the fact that deep down they wished they were dead.

[pleasedontholdback]

Face Your Fears

Fandom: Batman / Under the Red Hood

Warnings/Triggers: none

Rating: T

For the prompt: No, I'm not okay

Will post the AO3 link when it becomes available

“No, I'm not okay,” Jason admits through gritted teeth.  “I need Slade.” 

Because he can admit to himself that Bruce is only going to scare him more, Dick’s worry is likely to set him off on a tailspin, and he refuses to scare anyone else in his family with whatever is about to come out of his mouth. 

Fear gas is a fucking bitch. 

“Slade is not welcome at the Batcave,” Batman answers.  His mouth is too wide, his teeth too sharp.  He holds up a batatang and Jason just knows it’s for him.  He tries not to flinch.

The image is fake.  The words are real.  Jason repeats it to himself several times before he might actually believe it.  They aren’t at the batcave; they’re on the street.  Jason doesn’t make that argument; it’s probably too dangerous to keep him on the street.  “Take me to my safehouse then.” 

“That's not safe,” Batman replies unironically, taking a step closer.  The batatang he's holding already has blood on it.  Jason wonders if maybe it's his.  He hopes it's not Slade’s.  If Slade is dead Jason's going to break into a million pieces.

Jason's stomach tightens with terror and he takes a stumbling step back.  Fuck, did Bruce kill Slade?  Is that why Slade isn't here? 

The image is fake.  The words are real.

“I'm safe wherever Slade is.  So where the fuck is he?” He tries and fails to regulate his breathing.  He thinks he might be having a panic attack.  

Batman smirks, small and mean.  “You mean Deathstroke?  He's dead.” 

The image is fake.  The words are real.  The words are real and Slade's dead.  Jason takes another stumbling step back before he's drawing his gun and pointing it at Batman's head.  “Was it you?  Did you kill him?” His voice shakes.  He might be crying. 

Batman holds up both his hands.  And Jason is immediately worried about where the batatang went.  Had Bruce thrown it?  Is it going to slice through his neck soon? 

“Easy Jaylad,” Batman says softly.  “Everyone's fine. So, why don't you put the gun down, and-”

Batman's head explodes and Jason drops his gun like it just burned him.  He doesn't remember pulling the trigger, but he must have.  He just killed his fucking dad.  He squeezes his eyes shut.  “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”  

He has to think.  He's on fear gas, so maybe it isn't real.  But when he opens his eyes back up, there's his dad's headless form slumped on the sidewalk in front of him.  Some sort of something escapes his throat, something high pitched and whiney and pained.  He's somehow sitting on the ground now, even though he doesn't remember how he got there.  “I'm sorry.  Fuck, I'm so sorry,” he tells a now-dead Bruce.  “I didn't mean to.  I swear I didn't mean to.”

“Oh, Jaylad,” a voice behind him sighs.  And it's Bruce's voice, so maybe he isn't actually dead.  

Jason whips around, but it's not Bruce, it's The Joker.  He chokes back a scream as he stumbles backwards, closer to Bruce's headless body.  

“You and I are so much alike,” The Joker says in Bruce's voice.  “Always making mistakes we can't come back from.  Ironic that my greatest failure would be so much like me.”

“I'm sorry,” Jason chokes.  “I didn't mean to.”  He's not sure exactly what he's apologizing for anymore.  Being a failure?  Killing his dad?  Both?

“No, you never mean to, do you?” The Joker asks, sounding like a disappointed Bruce.  “But just because you don't mean to doesn't mean that you can dodge the consequences.”  He smiles, large and wide, and takes a step closer to Jason. 

And Jason wants to scramble back, but, when he tries, he runs into Bruce's motionless body.  And it is Bruce now, not Batman.  Bruce, in pajama pants and a T-shirt, like he used to wear during Sunday breakfasts.  Back when things were good.  Except back when things were good Bruce used to have a head.  And this one doesn’t.  Because Jason's killed him. 

“You know what those consequences are, don't you boy?” The Joker asks, sounding meaner now.  “You're well-read for a street rat, aren't you?  I'm sure the concept ‘an eye for an eye’ isn't a new one for you.”

Jason looks to The Joker, and he can see traces of Bruce there.  Those are Bruce's eyes and his chin and his nose.  It's Batman's voice.  He looks back over at the body behind him, but it's still there.  It's still real. 

The images are real.  The words are real.  And Jason's never going to be able to make up for what he did. 

“I'm so sorry,” he chokes again, and he's definitely crying now.  “It was an accident.”

Bruce in The Joker's makeup sighs.  “So were you, Jason, but I still took responsibility, didn't I?  I still tried my best to protect the world from you.”  He gestures down at his body double.  “Not that it did much good.  I was too sentimental.  I should have put you down when I had the chance.  You're like a rabid dog.”

Jason nods and squeezes his eyes shut.  It's true after all, isn't it?  “I'm sorry,” he says again.  “I didn't mean to come back.  I didn't mean to-”

Bruce laughs, except it's The Joker's laugh, and suddenly Jason doesn't know which person he's talking to anymore.  “You think that you coming back is the problem?  You were ruined before I ever even met you.  I was just too much of a fool to realize it.  Your father knew.  Your mother knew.  I should have been able to pick up the signs.”

“I'm sorry,” Jason repeats.  He bites his lip and stares at the ground.  “You're right.  I belonged on the streets.  If you hadn't taken me in I wouldn't have ruined everything.  I promise I did try.  I swear I did.  I just didn't-”

“Jason.” That's Slade’s voice, which means Slade isn't dead. 

Jason's eyes snap to the sound of Slade’s voice, and it is him.  He's in all his tactical gear except for his helmet, and his face looks wholly normal.  “Slade,” he chokes as fresh tears fall.  He looks behind him at the blood still pouring from Bruce's neck.  Then he looks ahead of him at Bruce dressed as The Joker, still snarling down at him.  “Slade,” he repeats, licking his lips.  “Slade, you need to leave.”  Because Slade can't be found around all this carnage.  Slade can't be blamed for this. 

“There's no ‘you’,” Slade snaps, sounding angry.  “Either we leave or we stay, but we aren't splitting up.  Or did you forget that you're mine?”

“Look at this!” Jason shouts, waving an arm at all the carnage he's just caused.  “I did this!  How could you-!?  You can't actually still want me after this.”  His voice cracks. 

“You forget who I am?” Slade answers, taking one step forward before freezing in place.  “You're going to have to try harder than that to scare me off.”

Jason stares up at him.  He waits for him to take it back, but he doesn't.  He immediately breathes easier.  “What are we going to do?” he asks quietly.  He's covered in blood.  Joker-Bruce hasn't said anything, but Jason knows he's going to try to stop them if they try to leave. 

“First, you're going to put down that gun,” Slade says, his voice strong as he takes another half a step forward.  “Can you do that?”

Jason blinks.  He hadn't realized he was holding a gun, but there’s one pressed into his hand, his finger on the trigger, and the muzzle pressed underneath his jaw.  Had he been about to kill himself?  He thinks maybe he had.  He looks back towards Joker-Bruce.  The man isn't going to like it if Jason doesn't atone for his sins.  Joker-Bruce's face is melting.  Which he realizes is not normal.  Because he's been dosed in fear gas and Joker-Bruce isn’t real.  “Oh.”  He drops the hand holding the gun and then lets the gun clatter onto the street.  He looks back over at Slade.  “You're real?”

“Yeah, kid,” Slade answers, voice soft.  “I'm real.  Even better, I've got an antidote for you.  But you're going to have to let me get close enough to administer it without shooting me.”

Jason nods and spreads his arms out.  He immediately feels foolish, because they're in public and in uniform and it's not the time or place to get soft. 

But Slade’s falling into his arms before he has the chance to drop them.  “You really scared the shit outta me, kid,” Slade breathes into his hair before Jason feels a sharp sting at his neck. 

He tenses, because what if this Slade was mean like Bruce was mean?  And he's just been tricked?  He doesn't think he could stand it if Slade called him a mistake like Bruce just called him a mistake. 

“Just the antidote, kid,” Shade mutters into his hair.  “Give it a couple minutes, and you'll start to feel better.”

“I wanna go home,” Jason murmurs back, burrowing his head into Slade’s shoulder.  Bruce is probably still around, and Oracle probably watched the whole thing on the street cameras.  And he's pretty sure Dick had been around too, when Jason first got hit.  And Batman's going to demand a debrief, and if Jason has to relive what he's just gone through he's going to fucking crack.  “I wanna go home right now.” 

“Okay,” Slade replies softly.  “You wanna go home?  We'll go home.  No problem, kid,” he declares in his normal voice before he's standing up and taking Jason with him.  Slade's arms wrap themselves under Jason's thighs, and Jason’s arms tighten across Slade’s shoulders.  His face still presses into Slade’s neck.  He can guess which of the family has witnessed his complete and embarrassing breakdown; he doesn’t need to confirm it. 

“He needs to come to the Batcave to get checked over,” Batman says, angry and stern.  It's because he's concerned, Jason knows.  That doesn't actually stop Jason from tensing up when he sounds so much like fear toxin Bruce. 

Slade shifts so Jason's sitting on one of his arms, while Slade’s other arm wraps around his back.  “I'll check over him at home,” Slade growls.  “Try to stop me, and I will get aggressive.”

“He needs to come by tomorrow,” Batman replies.  “We need to make sure there are no lasting effects.” 

It's as good of a compromise as they're going to get. 

“I'll come by tomorrow,” Jason says, his face still covered.  Slade doesn't move, and Jason knows it's because he wants to argue.  “Slade. Please.” It comes out as a whine, but it does get Slade moving. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Slade replies, loud enough for all the bats and birds around them to hear.  Jason's face heats, and he's glad no one can see it.  “We're going home right now.”

[coridallasmultipass]

Tw grief

Therapist told me last week to write a poem about grief and guess what therapy's tomorrow, and I hadn't written anything. I just now wrote a bunch and now I feel sick. I don't want to relive That, but I can't think of a poetic way to spin my grieving my own self, so I had no choice but to tackle The Big Thing.

I'm probably not going to post the whole thing because it hurts and I don't like being negative on here all the time when real life is full of enough horrors (it's really hard for me to be scrolling my dash right now because of a current event being circulated). But I think I wrote some parts of this well. I titled it "Forecast" and did the typical storm analogy ("The weather indoors looks like rain"). Here are some other parts, this first line pair is the beginning:

Bright orange lights, everything ends / One missed call, 3am

[Then later:]

One missed call, three months back / Never returned, now I can't.

[And also:]

Alone in the dark, alone in this state / I try to call out, why is no one awake?

[Double meaning with 'state' (state of being, and in another state across the country). 'Call out' sounds like I'm crying out loud (and I was) but it's a double meaning later when I write this, repeating the emphasis on 'alone':]

I call work again, come on answer the phone / Anyone, please, I'm so fucking alone

[I tried calling out of work like 3 times, but because I was scheduled for opening shift, no one answered before or after the scheduled start time (only number we could call was the main store number). It was stressful to know that I was causing problems for people, while I had already been sobbing for hours. I was on the schedule for 3 opening shifts and I had to miss all 3 in a row because no one answered the phones any time I called. On top of that stress, I didn't talk to anybody from like 3am to 11am. It sucked.

I finished it off with:]

I drown like an anchor untethered by wear / Still find myself sinking seven years later.

...

So yeah. This fucking sucked. I hated writing it, but the first line pair just came to me, so I had to stop dragging my feet and start the assignment. I wish I could animate what that night felt like, but it would just look like glitch art the way things were getting pulled straight down and melting. Maybe I'll draw it some time. But I am still in no state to be doing that. I still have a hard time looking at pictures from that apartment. I don't want to draw the shadows yanking the tears out of my eyes like a magician's handkerchief trick. But that's basically what it felt like was happening to me the moment I answered the phone.

God, I feel so fucking sick right now, I'm trying not to panic. It's really creeping up on me right now, holy fuck. I'm gonna go take my sleeping pills since it's too late for me to take a panic attack pill. Holy fuck.

I was already sobbing and crying earlier today because I'd been holding in my feelings about the current event and like I was sobbing over my sink like,

I can't talk about it, I'm already crying again. It hits too close to home. I don't want to think about that or my grief event.

[myheartisonthetrain]

update on how i feel about everyone

Mj: i have no idea. before the poland trip i was so attached to her my heart ached and i could see it getting worse again but the whole thing was crazy and i got closer to other people who distracted me from it. i will know how i feel when i see her again but once she comes back, school will end forever in two months and i will be at the peak of exams. just kill me already.

🐰: she is my girlfriend now. i have a girlfriend. i really want to love her she is so pretty and cute and nice and funny but there is this massive wall stopping my love from working and it's so annoying and i can't tell anyone about it. i will tell her honestly how i feel soon but last post is what happened last time i did that and i don't fancy a massive meltdown right now. i will love her if it is the last thing i do. i am not broken and i will NOT let the 🐻 situation repeat itself (i was with 🐻 from march to may 2023 and i communicated TERRIBLY with her. i lied to her and i let her coerce me into kissing her and it was messy. the whole school knew about us and we were basically abused by fucking everyone) i have not yet told 🐰 about my genderfluidity but i told her about my trauma and boundaries AND we have a safeword to that's a good start

🐻: she's being a little lovey to me recently but i'm brushing it off as neurodivergent platonic attraction, she has a partner and is happy with her and they are my best friends. i love her platonically as well. apparently she and 🐸 got into a frenzy about her loveyness when i was on the trip and it led to her having a panic attack

🐸: stop giving me unsolicited relationship advice. i know i gave you advice when you started dating 🐢 and even now but you DON'T have to do the same. i don't know if i want to be friends with you, you are a jealous freak. don't come for 🐻 just because i'm not there, that's only going to push me further away from you, but i liked calling you yesterday and hearing about your half term. i didn't realise i had missed you until i saw you happy again. i wish you would stop switching up on me and i wish i could help you like i used to but it really burns me out

A: starting to hate her. procrastinating on art.

ß: makes me feel guilty and i wish i never emailed him that massive thing back in september. i wish he never knew about my attachment. he said he didn't view me any differently but that's a lie, i just want him to go away forever now.

the two people i got close with in poland (gonna call them M and L): i told you about my former crush on ß under the influence of sketchy vitamin gummies so i automatically am very fond of you now. the fact that L was one of the people who took photos of me and 🐻 and spread them everywhere still kind of haunts me, but i understand why you did it. i think i forgive you but i'm still cautious, my life was hell for a year. i ordered food for you and got the teachers' attention for you. you're a lot like me. we gossiped about our friends and enemies together. i hope you don't think i hate any of my friends. i saw you argue with M on the plane and i saw you tense and trying to distract yourself.

i saw M sob her eyes out and ask why everyone hates her, i can't tell her why because the harsh truth is that it's for her to figure out. i pinned down why i was unlikable and i changed it while trying not to lose myself in the process - i don't think it's ethical to advise that. i think you are incredibly funny and i admire your vulnerability, even if it's not your choice to be this emotional. you NEED to stop feeling so shameful, it will absolutely destroy you and i can see it setting in :( i love your nerdiness and i love that we can bond over the x-files even though you know way more than me because i only started watching it with my mum and she's always busy now :') i hope we stay close.

[seamingleecomplex]

I hate that I'm still trying to get H's voice out of my head. We separated in Jan but officially got divorced in Oct and like i want to move on and I know i dont want to be in that relationship again I like have flashbacks. Like I start to do good but then remember the backhanded comments or things I would do to make them "comfortable in our relationship"

I had to block people who supported me when I was making money off of cosplay because H felt like people were only supporting me because they wanted to sleep with me.

When we would start learning new crafts it was "Lee's just so much better at me than this, it just makes my work look bad/makes me feel bad" and they would just stop doing the craft.

Alternatively when H was teaching me how to crochet we would get five steps in to about where you need to do a bunch of the same stitches in a row. I would be struggling trying to get the hang of it then H would jump ahead or speed up to where i couldn't follow anymore. When I would ask to slow down or go back they would repeat it back but then speed up again like i didn't say anything. When i eventually gave up because i couldn't follow the steps I was "throwing a tantrum" and they made sure to tell eveyone that I threw a tantrum and yelled at them when they were just trying to teach me somthing new.

"Why can't you let me be the pretty one?" If I would dress up for a night out. Or I would be told to "go fuck yourself" if I tried somthing on that looked good on me.

"Lee's a great liar, if you need someone to lie for you Lee does it all the time" After I help a friend get out of a situation he was uncomfortable in.

Or

H would tell me to lie about things "We can't let people know the birds died, tell them we gave them to a friend" "i don't want people to know we went to the rave, dont post about it, and lie and say we were camping" but when someone would ask I would lie like I was told she would immediately tell people i was lying to look better then tell the truth.

We would go out and I would be told "youre being awkward/agressive/quiet/too much" "you're uncomfortable" "you seem tired/overestimated we should go home" even when i wasn't. If i was quiet it was a problem, if I was loud i was too much. Everything I did was wrong in some way. Then, after a while i would ask "am i doing okay? Am i being good?" Because i just couldn't trust myself. They would get upset because they didn't want to be my babysitter and i was insecure.

I had a guided breathing app recommended by my therapist for when I had panic attacks. At one point I randomly started to have an attack at home while we were sitting together in the office. I opened up the app and started the exercise. I had the app open, they could see it, and i was breathing very quick and rhythmically. H immediately started talking about somthing their mom told them about and wanted my opinion. I can hear them but I'm in this tunnel of panic and can't stop the exercise. But i give them a thumbs up. They repeat it louder, i give a thumbs up again. They repeat it louder, and i like snap. I drop my phone and get up "I'm having a panic attack. I'm doing my exercise, I'm trying not to freak out right now. I can hear you, I'm giving you the thumbs up that I'm okay with what your mom said. I cant talk right now" and they said "Dont yell at me I cant see what youre doing and i didnt see you give me a thumbs up." We were right next to eachother, they could see my screen, i put my thumbs up right in front of them. But then again started telling people that i started screaming at them out of nowhere.

Around the time when i wanted to get my septum pierced I was also thinking of getting my nipples pierced. (I was kinda going through an identity crisis and wanted to do somthing on my own that would be for me) when I told H this and why i wanted it they said that they were going to go in with me and get the same thing done too. And i responded with "would it be okay if i just did this? You can get yours done at a different time, but i want this appointment for me. The point is that this is a for me thing" and they got upset by that because how dare i tell them what to do with their body and how im being selfish. Then this time they decided to post about it on multiple socials saying "oh btw im not getting my nipples pierced because Lee threw a fit about me also wanting them.

H could keep in contact with their EXs (even EXs that actively exclude me from the group and conversation while shamelessly flirt with H), H could go to the next town over every other weekend so they could hang out or groom their dogs (which H complained every time they went over but still went. The EX could have gone to H's salon to get their dog groomed. Its not like H gave them a discount. There wasn't some great distance)

H's car once broke down at their Exs place and I had to call using my AAA to get the car back to our apt.

The EX 100% thought they were invited to our wedding. Was ready to book their room, flight, and everything. When i put my foot down and said "absolutely not, your EX disrespects me any chance they get. You need to tell them they aren't invited. You can tell them why or not I dont want them anywhere near the wedding" what i got back was "oh i cant be mean i have to be civil with them because my other friends are still friends with them. " any time this ex was brought up in the friend group (which wasnt often) the friends didn't really like the ex. They were nice if they had to be but no one talked nicely about this ex

[whythewords]

Saddle up

In the vain of the last post, is there a point in updating this anymore? I think I do it more for my own benefit because realistically the application of this whole thing is to get these thoughts onto a (digital) page. I've oftentimes in the last little while thought that I didn't have much to say, until I started saying it. Then it flowed out like water breaking through a dam.

Things are where they were, they're where I left them. I'm still trying to make moves to...well..move. I SAY I'm trying harder to make it happen this year, but realistically I've done a lot planning for the steps I should be taking and not actually taking said steps. I feel like I said something to that effect last time too...or maybe it was the time before that. It's all starting to run together.

Work has been kicking my ass the last few weeks. Again, something I feel like I've already asked but I guess it bares repeating: is it too early to be bitter? And maybe bitter is too strong a word. I contend in other discussions about this gig that my worst day is here is still better than my best day at the old job. I haven't had full-on panic attacks. I haven't had a day so shitty that all I wanted was the warmth of my home and for it still to be at least an hour out of my grasp...and be kinda shitty there too anyway. Well...I guess things are shitty at home now as well but for different reasons. But at least I'm close by.

That's the other thing. I know my folks mean well, but it's been increasingly tough lately. I went to see an old friend in Toronto and was riddled with texts and phone calls because I hadn't come home yet and it was late. 37 years old and being checked in on, helicopter parented by my 80 and almost 80 year old folks. I lost my damn mind and got into a huge blowout with my dad over it..and fuck even that...even that is some teenager bullshit. I just don't want any of it. I've been spending far less time with them and it's not too hard for them to notice when someone is avoiding them in their own home. My mom seems more understanding of my plight...my dad is the one who makes comments. Just moments ago he brought me a plate of fruit, admittedly a very sweet and homey gesture and something I would SURELY miss if I was off living on my own...and as he set it down he said "here, since you don't want to spend time with us anymore." The implication being that they were having fruit earlier while watching Jeopardy! which I used to watch with them pretty frequently, but I opted not to tonight. I bowed out of the tradition.

And you know what? He's fucking right. I DON'T want to spend time with them anymore. At least not right now. Not after spending almost 3 years with them beginning during one of the most truly shitty times in my life, and trying to claw my way back to some sense of normalcy and claim SOME semblance of the independence that one would think ought to be allotted to an employed, fairly intelligent 37 year old man. If I move far, mom already said they're gonna go where I go so I am going to keep seeing them frequently, but on my own terms and with the ability to retreat to my own space. And if they stay out here in Mississauga, I'm gonna be back out here visiting friends and family constantly anyway...and friends in Toronto, and friends in Guelph, and friends in Burlington....

And maybe a girl in Burlington? But let's not get our hopes up. Let's not do the same thing we do every single god damn time we get a little deep into these dating apps. So yeah, that happened again (against my better judgment.) I was seeing some old friends this past Friday night (those ones in Toronto, in fact) that I hadn't seen in a while. We were talking about dating and it came to light that couples in healthy (or I suppose unhealthy) relationships oftentimes have a weird FOMO about the dating apps and like to live vicariously through their single friends. I don't know if it's necessarily just FOMO or more of an "oh wow look at the freak show" mentality, but either way I said "fuck it" and decided to download the two apps I had profiles on so we could marvel at the state of dating right now all together. This is after I had pledged to myself and others that I would stay off that shit until I figure out this next chapter of my life. Now, in my defence...the alcohol was flowing...(one full beer on a half empty stomach, because that's all it takes for my old ass these days...I didn't say it was the best defence.) So I got out the phone and casted to their TV and we swiped and we laughed and we drank. One of the friends posited that we should get together again but go out to a bar instead and she would be my "wingwoman" and all that, and it all was very fun and light-hearted. But by the end of it, I did tell them both that there was a good chance these apps would be off my phone again in a couple of weeks.

Cut to the next day. Saturday morning. No big plans. A few matches. And now I'm in it. Halfway true to my word, I very quickly deleted one of the apps as there was absolutely no traction there, but there were a few light conversations happening on the other one. A couple of new matches over the course of the week, some conversations, and one in particular that quickly resulted in a date after just a few days of chatting. What's more, she was the one to ask me out which was a surprising and welcome change from the flakiness I'd experienced from the last couple of women I had "successful" meetups with on the apps. The date was fine. Simple. We had drinks and chatted and got to know each other a little better. We already have another one scheduled for next Tuesday. These should be good things...but I'm worried.

I'm worried about the hole I dug myself into after the last couple of connections I made on these apps. I'm worried that I felt so committed to NOT being on the apps while I figured the rest of my life out, that maybe that mentality is still lingering. I still have walls up. I had to really actually try to tell myself during the date to drop my guard a little bit. I told my friend this and he expressed concern that I shouldn't jump in if I don't feel ready...but I've BEEN doing this...I've BEEN ready. I think I'm ready just not nearly as...I don't know...hopeful? And that's sad. But I am willing, SO fucking willing to have my mind changed. So we'll see. Rolling with the punches is sort of the name of the game here. Don't wanna over-invest...don't wanna be aloof and dismissive. Just need to meet in the middle.

Maybe that improv class I've been taking will help with the dating thing and allow me some more unguarded spontaneity? Maybe I just needed a smooth transition into talking about the improv class. It has been a fucking blast, actually. I have looked forward to it every Tuesday and it's been a nice consistent routine and activity to get outta the house with. And tomorrow is the last session...(technically today because it is well past midnight and fuck I should be sleeping). I can't believe 8 weeks already passed. It fucking flew by. And I definitely think I wanna take the next class in the series or do an acting class at the theatre centre closer to me or just...something. I need another fun thing I can do for a little while to just get out of my same-ass routine.

This is all sort of reminiscent of my brief time in Toronto that I previously mentioned being nostalgic for. It was a rediscovery: Getting more involved in music, going out mid-week to just "check out the scene" as it was. Hell, that was my first experience on the dating apps as well. And that first part was fun...it was always fun until it wasn't. But I'm here now, and I'm trying again because I just might as fucking well right?

So here we go.

Back in the saddle.

[agumonger]

1, 7, 14, 18, 26, 37, 55 and 76 (this one specifically about rh) for that fanfic ask post

1 Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Multi-chaptered. It's very rare for me to do one-shots, but I wanna look more into them because they're a lot simpler to make. I just really like the progression in multi-chaptered fics. 1000noches is kind of both, as its has "chapters" but it's an extremely short and simple story.

7 How do you choose which POV to write from?

It depends on the scene, which character needs to be developed more, and which character does most of the action or undergoes the biggest development.

For example, picture a scene where Alice tells Bob a secret she's been hiding. If you want to focus the scene on Alice opening up, you write from her POV. If you want to focus on Bob's reaction and how he feels about the secret, you write from his POV. I also recommend Alice's POV if the reader already knows about that secret, in which case we'll probably find Alice more relatable since we know the same information as she does. If we don't know the secret either, we're more likely to feel like Bob.

As another example, if a character has to "learn a lesson" in a scene, and we are meant to experience that lesson too, we should be on the POV of the character who goes through that lesson.

Or at least that's how I feel. I also personally avoid writing from the villain's POV for *too long* unless they're meant to be sympathetic - I often handle their scenes from their henchmen's POV. If they're "irredeemably evil", too much immersion into their POV might make them feel like they need positive development - or is this just a me thing? Oh, unless the villain is comedic and cartoony like Bowser. Then go ham.

14 how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?how do you write emotional scenes?

Oh, ho ho. Yeah? Yeah. Yeah I do. I kind of try to imagine how I would feel, then code it through the character's own personality and background. And sometimes I've noticed my eyes getting wet. But I've recently become the kind of person who cries at movies sometimes. I think at times I almost cried during the fucking Mario movie. When Mario and Luigi reunite. Them feels...

And... yeah. I get sort of inspired by my own experience but I morph everything so it doesn't become the story of my own life. I try to not to indirectly reference real people or real events I've gone through. A good example is Bruno's silent panic attack in chapter 4 due to his bad grades. It was inspired by one time I realized I had to repeat a whole year and cried my heart out at the high school bathroom. Writing that scene felt incredibly cathartic, and it weirdly helped me find some closure after some complicated years.

Something I've noticed about emotional scenes is that they usually need buildup. In order for us to care about a character, we need to through a journey with them, get to know them. Emotional resolutions become more poignant when there's some story building up to it. In book 1 it's gradually hinted at that Briana is not yet okay, and though I feel I should tweak some of the buildup, when it all breaks down in chapter 9, it breaks hard because it's been bubbling up for six or seven chapters. Maintaining a certain degree of relatability, without hammering the point home over and over again, is key, or else we won't connect with the emotion and the scene will either feel hollow or cheesy.

18 Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Honestly... before. I'm such an avid pre-planner with my stories, that I usually have a draft of the whole plot, a title, a theme and a bunch of characters before I even start actually writing.

I don't really know how I come up with them. I usually try to think "is there a theme running through the story?", "what kind of feel do I want it to have?", "can I sum it up in two or three words?"

I usually try to make my titles: memorable, concise, descriptive, distinct, searchable (!) and honest.

Oddly enough, my only regret with Someday as a title is... how common it is as a word. When I search "yume nikki someday", sometimes I get lots of "oh I'd love to play Yume Nikki someday but i don't have the time right now" and stuff. Since thing happened infamously with Digimon Adventure's 2020 adaptation, called... Digimon Adventure:. Yes, with a colon. And you don't pronounce it. You're supposed to just say "Digimon Adventure" out loud. The colon also doesn't show up in some places, such as a hashtags, so when you search the adaptation online, you find the original from 1999. Terrible choice.

By "honest" I mean, make sure the title actually has something to do with the story or theme. SO many books have the word "devil" in the title to make them more intriguing and marketable but they're just random thrillers or something. For me, two to three words is the key, even better if they can be hashtag'd. Make it relevant to the story or themes, make it pronounceable!!! A lot of people keep calling Digimon Extend "Digimon Extended" for some reason. Really, keep it simple, people don't have good memory. (?)

26 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

1000noches (La noche de las mil noches), for real. I wrote it in a month, one chapter per day (each chapter was about a page long), then I illustrated it, one drawing per day, I posted once a day, I ATE Shinanne's Digimon 02 meta at a breakneck pace and literally changed my entire perception of Daisuke while I wrote it. It was made in a frenzy and it's my most successful fanfic yet. But then again, it's short, simple, and it features popular characters.

37 How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Well, I usually try to center each chapter around a theme. My biggest two examples are Extend and Regulus Harbor. In most of their chapters, the theme is either a confrontation or a lore revelation, or an introduction, or characters coming to terms with something. I like it when you can call a chapter "the one where X happens" in just one sentence.

But I don't think I'm that great at deciding what should go in each chapter... I often just add scenes in order until I reach 15-20 pages because it's the chapter length I like, but this is very arbitrary. Sometimes I have to move scenes to the next chapter because of this... often these haphazard chapters are the ones without a main confrontation going on.

In Digimon, setting up a chapter flow is easy. You introduce some concepts, have a bad guy of the week show up, fight, advance the plot in some way, then point towards the next step.

In Regulus Harbor, I've noticed I usually do it roughly by going through one day chronologically. Which means that chapters often begin with Itsuki or Danny (more or less diurnal charas), and end with Lydia, Fermi, Gakkoros or Jokesta (nocturnal charas). I also like to have an introductory scene and an outro/cliffhanger scene that shows where the plot is headed next.

55 Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

I absolutely adored writing Goupemon and Blightmon, the villains, back in Digimon Extend. And also Sketchmon, the comic relief. In Regulus Harbor, I love writing Gakkoros and Jokesta, the main uh... antagonistic force? And also comic relief kind of. But I also love writing Danny because he means a lot to me, he's one of my oldest OCs. And of course, my boy Itsuki. I think Jokesta is my fave to write. That has been amplified by my readers' reactions to my comedy scenes... apparently I'm good at writing random comedic characters!? Says a lot, huh. I wonder how I learned that. (Please watch Nichijou.) Usually my favorite characters to write are my audience's favorite characters. Can you guys tell I'm having a great time or...?

76 Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of [Fanfic Name]?

I know this one's for RH but I'll do it for Extend too. I had this mini-arc at the beginning of season 3 where Monmon and her three uh... former family members...? would be sent to different universes along with the protagonists. I don't remember why I wanted to do it. I also cancelled a lot of stuff season 2 was supposed to have - more Armor evolutions, more time for Iván to shine in his "evil self" (?) but halfway through I realized it was getting stale so I cut all filler and went straight to the endgame before Goupemon's return. Oh and also Goupemon was going to be semi-redeemed - Pandemmon was going to be the final boss. There was also going to be a meeting with the 02 cast full of mistranslation moments.

As for Regulus Harbor, it was originally going to have 14 Reached, and Lydia didn't exist until very late in "production". Before I came up with Fermi, she was supposed to have an unrequited crush on Danny, which is why she acts so weird around him in chapter 1, and why Fermi isn't there yet. I retconned this as Lydia just being really giddy about finding a new Reached with potential and not having to rely only on the children.

Regulus Harbor actually has... tons of scrapped ideas behind, mostly leftovers from when it was a... Spyro fanfic idea? Mixed with an AU with a small Digimon cameo? The original idea was a fangame-type story based on Spyro: A Hero's Tail with 14 player characters with different elemental powers. The 14+2 element symbols are here. You may recognize these symbols as they were used for a map in my game, 311. This was [REDACTED] believe I came up with it so long ago. The scrapped elemental powers are Rock (merged into Earth), Space, Qi (merged into Life), and Crystal (will appear not as an element but something else :3).

The AU thing had a cameo from Devimon... who absorbed the power of all Dark Gems in the world (this is a Spyro concept, there were 40 in the game + 150 in my story +10 more in the AU) AND this was the original idea for Gakkoros!!! YEAH. He would eventually become something like "the incarnation of darkness itself", called Darkuro back then. Again, YEAH. It was 2007... Also, a character based on Ophanimon, called Lishiro (later Ilendora) would try to purify him, and I kept changing Darkuro's redeemability. Deciding on a final veredict took me years, and so far I'm really happy with the result.

Ishmael was going to be a human, powerless incarnation of Gakkoros, trying to get his power back. RH was going to take place in New York in real life, only with humans, all of them coming from different places in the world. The cursed mirror idea is actually very old, from ~2010 probably.

Itsuki's inclusion in the story was extremely late, not decided until 2018-2019. An old OC named Nano, the oldest character of ALL of them, created around 2005, was going to be there instead. Nano's personality was divided into Panuk and Itsuki. Interestingly, you can see a door representing him in Someday's Meta-Nexus. All of the Meta-Nexus doors represent OCs from different stories in different universes, most of which I didn't write at all. Panuk's door is actually repurposed from Víctor's, from Digimon Extend. I've actually been thinking of replacing one of the doors with a new one for Víctor or Joaquín, since it was for a Homestuck OC... and I'm so over that phase :')

There are more unused ideas but I still have them around my head just in case I do use them.

Also, if you've read a11 of this, uh, yeah! Thanks! And you're welcome. ???

[freezethebeez]

silly c!tubbo poem thing?

it's more a journal entry. like, give ctubbo a journal and a pen and he'll write this probably.

-> pre-ghostboo, post-mansion, canon-divergence, lots of fluff and maybe a suicide mention for good measure.

thingy thing below the break :)

-

it's been harder to tell the difference

between dreams and reality these days,

especially when everything's kinda of blurred

into this haze of a life that i never thought i'd live.

i mean, it's fucking bizarre how many stars had to align

to get me this mansion and this child and this husband—

and the two fucking fireworks to my face,

what a fucking miracle that was.

it snows a lot here so we tend to stay inside—

just the three of us—

and i can't even remember the last time i've felt peace,

but the quiet evenings by the fire are pretty nice.

ranboo and michael like to make snow angels,

and i like to let them bury me in the snow.

it feels safer there, and kind of warm.

it's a nice place to hide while they sword-fight with icicles.

good thing our bed is warm—

and how crazy is that?

not my bed but our bed—

as in ranboo and me sharing a bed.

but yeah, he's so warm at night.

i thought he'd be cold but he's not.

he's so warm, and his hands are soft, and

it feels nice when he runs his fingers through my hair.

i haven't washed up in a couple days,

and i've been working lots— maybe too much—

so i'm covered in shit all the time, but

he still gives me forehead kisses, so that cool i guess.

fuck, that's right,

i was gonna talk the nightmares—

about the explosions in that little box.

i still get them lots, you know.

it's so silly because it's been over a year,

but for some reason my mind really likes that record.

it likes to play it on repeat, but i don't like it,

but i don't really have control over that, so whatever.

it's really scary when it happens, because

it really feels like i'm there again.

i'm in that box again and techno's got his gun to my face again

and i see the flash and i hear the crack and it plays in slo-mo sometimes.

those dreams make my face feel all hot and sticky,

and i feel so ill when i have them.

sometimes i get properly sick.

it's not very fun.

it was really not fun in the past.

tommy's told me all about it because

he was there when i first got them.

we both had panic attacks and that was awesome.

but yeah, he helped me and i helped him,

and we got through it, so i think that's why he didn't

bully ranboo more when i first met him because

ranboo got to take his place so he wouldn't get panic attacks anymore.

then tommy got them for a different reason,

but that's besides the point.

i still feel bad about that.

it makes my hands feel cold and sweaty.

the nightmares happen less now tho.

thank gods ranboo's still got me

when i wake up screaming.

it's a bit of a routine at this point.

we always wake up at the same time on those nights.

he'll pull me into his arms and bring my head to his chest;

he'll run his hands through my hair; i'll be warm in his arms—

not hot, just warm. he's hot and i'm warm.

sometimes michael wakes up, too,

and the walls and floors and cupboards must all wake up, too,

but michael is only one who can walk in— so he does— and he'll say: "bo's yellin' again."

so ranboo will lift him up into bed

and we'll all cuddle up together,

like we do by the fire,

and everything will be fine for once in my life.

i feel a bit bad sometimes—

in the morning i'll tell ranboo that i'm sorry for waking him,

because it takes so long for him to sleep, you know,

but he'll wave it off with the soft hands and the warm voice.

i'll make him tea tho because he doesn't like my verbal apologies,

but he likes tea with milk and sugar so that'll do.

we'll sit by the fire and watch the icicles melt,

and he'll have tea and i'll have coffee.

things'll blur together—

but things'll be good—

like when the cream mixes in with the tea

and the coffee.

i hope that i don't have to bury him

and he doesn't have to bury me—

not in snow, but in dirt;

i hope that we both go down together.

those fireworks took out more than just me—

they can take us both out, surely.

maybe i should call techno again—

or i could test out that new switch.

not now tho because ranboo's making soup

and i've gotta have that first.

his soup is so good and michael likes it too;

michael is a picky eater

i used to be a picky eater, too,

but i grew out of it.

i think i might be growing again—

but maybe in the way that the icicles that melt.

yeah, like the icicles.

it's so warm outside.

it's warm inside.

the snow is warm.

maybe we can play outside today

and make a snowman.

i've got some work to do.

i'll bury myself then after lunch.

okay, plans are set.

i'll see you then.

byebye!

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, panic attack

A/N: apologies for my tgm crimes here but i gotta keep you on your toes since you have the old plan. also i'm not going to spoil anything but day 25 has one of my fav scenes in the show so far ;;-; so please enjoy this chapter and i will continue to work hard to finish the following one and get back into the posting routine!

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

You’re roused from sleep by the feathered sensation of fingertips on your jaw. Twitching slightly, you try and move away from it, burrowing deeper into the warm, gently rocking pillow your head is propped up on.

Before you can slip back under, however, the fingers give one last attack: a sudden flick to your cheek that echoes with a thwack. You flinch and furrow your brows, grumbling your displeasure since your words haven’t quite found you yet.

“Get up, sleepyhead, unless you’d rather I just piss in the bed.”

That’ll do it. You shoot up so quickly your vision swims, one side of your face feeling cold without the comfort of Yoongi’s chest. “Fuck you, go pee,” you slur, eyes still half-closed, the morning glare peeking through a gap in his curtains.

Yoongi happily but hurriedly trots off to the bathroom, giving you a moment of respite to collect yourself. It takes a few moments to recall the previous night, not just the way Yoongi’s voice had made you cum in your room, but also the way it later lulled you to sleep as he told you hushed stories of his childhood or anecdotes from his days as a sex education teacher.

You can even hear his voice now, just barely slipping under the crack of the door, humming and singing under his breath as he washes his hands.

When he finally exits, you’re propped up by pillows, duvet tucked over your knees and eyes crinkled fondly at his bedhead.

“Oh, no,” he starts with a frown, “you better get that look off of your face.”

Your smile drops. “What?”

Taming his hair with a few flat strokes, he shakes his head. “I need somebody sane in this house to talk to. You aren’t allowed to fall in love with me, it’s conflict of interest.”

Mouth dropping open, it takes you a few minutes to note the subtle curl to his lips. “You dick! I’m certainly not planning on it, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hey,” he defends in a drawl, no attempt at modesty as he shucks his pyjamas before browsing his chest of drawers, “it’s been done before. You come for the massive dick and stay for the massive heart.” He pauses, shoulder muscles flexing as he reaches in to a drawer, pulling out a pair of dark wash jeans. “Stop looking at my ass, I’m trying to lecture you.”

On the contrary, you lower your gaze and narrow in on it. “You’re starting to develop a little bubble butt, Yoongi. It’s very cute.” Not leaving him time to protest, you barrel on. “Besides, your dick isn’t that big.”

“That’s only because you’re comparing mine to hyung’s. And Namjoon’s. And… And Jungkook’s, I guess. And-” Suddenly he cuts himself off, throwing himself back on the bed with his back hunched in despair. “Fuck, do I have a small dick?”

“Mm, not really,” you dismiss easily, deciding to finally get out of bed and pick out your own clothes - selecting them from Yoongi’s drawers, of course. He makes no protest, still staring blankly at the jeans in his hands. “You just have steep competition here. There’s nothing wrong with small dicks, either. They’re cute.”

Now visible from your angle, Yoongi’s face twists in a grimace. “But my dick isn’t small, right?”

You shrug, slipping on one of his FG shirts and a pair of sweatpants loose enough that you have to knot the drawstrings. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

He spares one somber glance down between his legs before he slips on a pair of underwear, finally stepping into the jeans. There’s a brief period of comfortable silence, before he lets out a small sigh. “Can I… Can I confess something to you?”

Although a quip would be easy enough to say, you sense the joking is over. “Of course, Yoongi,” you assure instead, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed beside him. He doesn’t meet your eye, busying himself with slipping a shirt over his head. “What’s up?”

Once he’s fully dressed, he still keeps his eyes low. “When you- On Monday, when you voted out Jin-hyung. I was so glad.”

You pause for a moment. “Because you wanted him out of the competition?” you venture, but he shakes his head dully.

“Because I thought he might look at me again if he didn’t have you.”

Something sinks in your stomach, cold enough to make you shiver. The guilt in Yoongi’s voice doesn’t conceal the open vulnerability of his expression as he fiddles with his bitten fingernails. “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

“What him and I had earlier wasn’t healthy, I know that,” he defends to himself, “but… I still miss it. I miss him. But even when I spoke to him after the elimination, all he would talk about was you. And I can’t even be mad, because I get it. And I- If I’m honest,” he murmurs, feet scuffing restlessly on the carpet, “I don’t even know what I’m wanting to achieve by telling you this, but I couldn’t stand not having anybody know about it. I never wanted it to get this messy. I told myself I wouldn’t let my feelings get caught up. But I think a little heartbreak would be worth it, for him. Is that stupid?”

You feel so unanchored, like there’s nothing for you to grab onto to steady yourself. More so, you feel entirely incapable of helping your friend like you so desperately want to. “It’s not stupid,” you begin, reaching out to cup one of his hands snugly between the two of yours, head resting on his shoulder in solidarity, “and I’m so sorry. Does he- does he know you feel this way?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi admits in a low voice, leaning into your touch. “If he does, then he must not like me since he’s not acknowledging it. And if he doesn’t, then he must have never even considered me like that. I know I was a distraction at best.”

You knit your brows together, deep in thought to try and find the right words to say. “Or perhaps he knows and he’s respecting your boundaries by letting you initiate, especially since he was the one who took advantage of you last time. And perhaps he doesn’t know, and it’s only because he’s so caught up in his own feelings that he hasn’t considered that you may feel the same. You just don’t know these things, Yoongi. I didn’t know how you felt either until you told me.”

He nods slowly, jerkily. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Jungkook said almost the exact same thing, actually.”

You pull back slowly, curiosity colouring your tone. “Jungkook?”

Yoongi manages a shy smile, cheeks colouring slightly. “He approached me. We- we talk a lot, way more than hyung and I ever did. I know Kookie has a crush on me, and we said we’d take things slow, but dammit, I can’t help but like the kid.”

You let a surprised laugh bubble up your throat. “That- I was not expecting that, but I’m so glad, Yoongi. Even if you don’t have Jin, I’m glad you’re letting yourself be happy with others.”

His smile falters. “Is it greedy that liking Jungkook doesn’t make me want Jin-hyung any less?”

You go still, thinking of your own blooming feelings for... Well, for most of the people in this house, if not - at least a little bit - all of them. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I’d like to think not.”

Yoongi lifts his gaze to you, carefully studying your face. “Do you ever worry,” he begins, so softly that you have to strain to make the words out, “that our feelings have been set up. By the show, I mean.” His brows furrow deeper. “We’re living in a practical paradise - luxurious house with no real jobs, our food is paid for, we’re literally getting rewarded to have sex. It’s so artificial, you know? So who’s to say that our feelings are artificial, too? I- I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he admits with a pensive stare.

You can’t lie. You nod. “I’d like to think not,” you repeat hollowly, “but… I mean, yeah, this feels like some alternate reality, and thinking of any of you in normal, mundane, real-life scenarios seems so strange. Like, can you picture Hoseok sitting down and doing his taxes?”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head in bemusement as a line of tension eases from his shoulders. “I hope he hires an accountant. I certainly wouldn’t trust him with my money.”

You let out a deep sigh and fall backwards onto the duvet, air punched out of you on impact. “The thing is, Yoongi,” you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, “we have no way of knowing what life will be like once all this is wrapped up so why even bother worrying?”

He turns slightly, just enough to watch you warily over his shoulder. “Maybe because I could get my heart broken?”

You pout at him. “Tell me how that’s any different from developing a crush in real life?”

He opens his mouth, furrows his brows, and closes it again. “I- Ugh. Fuck you for being correct.”

Pleased with yourself, you hide your grin as you playfully knock his side with your foot, making him recoil with a groan. “Be as cautious or as impulsive as you want, but even if all this is fake, you could’ve just as easily developed those feelings outside of the show. Like come on, if you saw Jin in the grocery store don’t tell me you wouldn’t fall in love on sight!”

Yoongi shakes his head again, a wry smile playing at his lips. “I see your point… and now I’m picturing Jin getting groceries and looking hot doing it...wow.”

You cackle at the dazed look on Yoongi’s face, using his arm to pull yourself up off the bed, patting him on the shoulder. “Good talk, champ. I’m off to chow down on the leftover pork from last night. Care to join me?”

His eyes glitter, but the doctor declines. “Yoonji said she blackmailed one of the production team to bring her fried chicken from her favourite place. She’s hiding it in the bunk room, but you didn’t hear that from me. She’s selling some to me for a small fortune, the little devil.”

“Less than half a week here and she’s already set up a black market,” you muse, “I think I may be in love with her, Yoongi.”

“Don’t you dare.”

--

While the kitchen is empty when you first arrive, it only takes the sizzle of pork belly in a saucepan to draw your roommates down.

Jin is first, silently rummaging in the pantry and fridge for some side dishes to add to the mix. In return, you begin boiling some hot water, adding instant coffee mix to two mugs.

As the others join, the line of mugs and glasses on the kitchen island grows, until even the two Min twins are hovering in the kitchen, looking suspicously still hungry after their illicit breakfast.

There aren’t enough chairs at the table to seat you all, but luckily Taehyung and Jungkook are happy hunched over the bench in the kitchen, sharing a set of Airpods and snickering at a seemingly endless stream of TikToks.

At the table, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi chow down on their meals, the latter with a considerably smaller portion made up mostly of meat. Yoonji and Jimin are on either side of you, with Jin on one end, chewing slow to savour each bite.

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve all shared breakfast at the same time, and you’re struck with a deep feeling of fondness at this little family-like group you’re living with.  Jimin sneaks extra strips of meat or spoonfuls of rice into your bowl when he thinks you’re not looking; Hoseok listens enthusiastically to Namjoon’s explanation of a summer school course he’s taking, even as he has to ask for clarification just about every second sentence; Yoongi splits his time between checking up on the two maknaes with a soft look, and scowling at his sister’s teasing comments.

“Any plans for the day?” Yoonji asks suddenly, tugging you out of your musings. She’s dressed sleekly in a black velvet mock neck shirt and high waisted denim shorts, her face as stark a resemblance to her brother as ever, with two sharp lines of black on her lids being the only visible makeup. “Except, I suppose, the mandatory fucking.”

You huff with pink cheeks, never growing used to hearing it so openly. “The days kinda blur together a little when you have no real responsibilities,” you admit, “I should probably find a hobby or something.”

Yoonji’s eyes crinkle in faux empathy. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna be so out of it when you return to the real world. You all will,” she adds, before shrugging, “except maybe Namjoon. Seems like academia doesn’t stop for anyone.”

You can’t help but agree. ���He has more brain cells in his pinky finger than I do in my own body,” you swear, “he could break an arm and still type a thesis one-handed.”

Halfway through a mouthful of food, you’re rewarded to the ungraceful yet endlessly endearing sound of her snorting, a hand cupped over her mouth. After swallowing, she turns towards you to respond. “I haven’t known him for long, but that seems to check out. He’s quite the character, huh?”

You don’t miss the meaningful lilt to her voice, nor the quirk of a sharp brow. “He’s a good guy,” you reply under your breath, gaze darting down the table to where the man himself is engaged in an intensely enthusiastic discussion (okay, closer to a TedTalk) with Hoseok, now using pieces of meat to create an abstract diagram in his otherwise empty bowl. The latter looks bewildered, but is nonetheless paying deep attention to every word.

It’s impossible not to feel soft inside as you look at the pair of them, all complementary contrast. Hoseok with his slender nose and harsh facial structure and Namjoon with a round, gentle face. One of them dressed in sleek black and the other in oversized earth tones, the typically reserved one animated and the bubbly one focused in. It had taken you barely a month of shared living to become completely fond of these men, not just Namjoon and Hoseok but all of them, and as much as it was nice to have someone new in the Villa for a while, Yoonji’s presence makes you more aware of the fact that you and the seven guys had developed a certain equilibrium that seemed slightly off-balance with the change.

It makes you worry about what other disturbances this delicate system could hold, and if returning to the real world would be a shift large enough to permanently upend it.

Wishing to dispel the pessimistic narrative beginning to form, you focus in on Yoonji again. “Anyways,” you start, “how are you finding the Villa so far?”

“Certainly an interesting look behind the veil, though it’s really not ideal having to-” Yoonji’s cut off by the chirp of an incoming message on her phone. “Sorry, one sec,” she mumbles absentmindedly, but you don’t miss the way her face falls when she reads the message, immediately glancing directly across the table to where her brother sits.

To your growing concern, Yoongi is also reading a message on his phone, and he quietly excuses himself from the table, leaving his bowl half-eaten. He jerks his head towards the front door, and Yoonji manages a quick apology before they’re leaving the room.

All startled out of their separate conversations, the remaining members of the household sit in confused silence, enough that even Taehyung and Jungkook turn around from their phones.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks in a worried voice. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

Nobody replies, Jin just shaking his head with a grim frown and leaving the table himself, going after them.

“Guys,” Taehyung says more insistently, eyes not leaving the empty seats at the table.

“They both got a text,” you say with furrowed brows, “Yoongi and Yoonji. Must’ve been bad news, judging by their faces.”

“Jin-hyung’ll find out what’s going on,” Namjoon assures, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself, “let’s just clean up for them and wait for an update. Yeah?”

The two youngest nod solemnly, still with a single Airpod each bobbing in their opposite ears.

For a while, the group of you remaining sit in silence, as if caught up in some spell that would only be broken once Jin returned with some answers. The absence of Yoongi at the table is so much more pronounced, and you can’t help but feel the sickening worry swirl inside you when you look at his bowl, chopsticks strewn carelessly beside it.

Everyone is just waiting for bad news. You’ve felt this looming dread before, and it either came with a swoop of relief or a blow of despair. Your teeth find your thumbnail as you wait helplessly to see which one it’ll be.

It feels like an eternity before the door finally opens, making everyone jump, but only a few minutes have really passed. Jin is panting slightly, like he ran back from wherever Yoongi disappeared to.

“He’s-” he starts quickly, before a tremor passes over his face and he grimaces, jogging over and falling heavily into his chair at the table, face in his hands. “Their dad is in hospital. Heart attack.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes, brows knit together in sympathy. “Is he okay? Was it serious?”

Jin shrugs, looking up enough to run his hand over his face and take a shaky breath. “He’s alright for now, but apparently they need to make sure it doesn’t repeat anytime soon. If he settles, he’ll be fine, but there’s a chance that he might suffer another attack. Yoongi and Yoonji are going to the hospital now to stay with him until they’re more certain he’s stable. Just in case.”

“When is he coming back? Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide, shiny. He can’t stop fiddling with his fingers, self-soothing.

“Not for a while, I don’t think,” Jin divulges with a pained expression. “He needs to be there for his family right now. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

The front door creaks, and all of you instinctively whip your heads towards it, as if Yoongi himself might be returning already, but you’re greeted with the weary face of Producer Sejin, joining you at the table, taking Yoongi’s old spot. Taehyung frowns deeply at the choice, turning his face away.

“What’s going on?” you ask quickly. “What happens to Yoongi? And us?”

“Yoongi is… He was in a rush to get going, understandably, so we didn’t speak in great depth. But he in short stated that he’d return when his father was in better health if the place was still open for him. I’ve got in contact with the higher-ups, and we’ve agreed to put the show on a temporary hold.”

“On hold?” Jungkook asks in a nervous voice. “What does that even mean?”

Sejin clears his throat stiffly and clicks his tongue. “Well. It means we’re putting a stop to the game for now, in short. If Yoongi is able to return by the end of the week, we’ll resume as usual. Otherwise, we’ll consider him to have permanently left the competition, and we’ll be forced to continue the game without him.”

You frown, fighting the urge to cry. This all feels so wrong, like he’s been taken from you with little hope of reunion, and discussing it like administration feels so clinical. “So we’re just sitting here, not knowing if he’s going to come back home, waiting around in limbo?” As soon as you finish, it feels like the word home lingers in the air longer than the rest of them. And perhaps this house doesn’t feel like home to you, but it certainly seems like six of the seven pieces of home are around you right now, and it’s not the same without him away. By the way the others are solemn and red-eyed, you probably aren’t the only one that’s begun feeling that way.

Sejin just shakes his head slowly, as subdued as you all are. “Listen, I know this isn’t ideal. The boss wanted to film it, make a big drama out of it, and then kick him off the show for views. I’m doing the best I can here to compromise and give him some dignity.”

Eyes widening, you stare at the round eyes of the cameras in the living room. “Are you- are you even allowed to say that?”

“I cut the camera feeds,” Sejin says in a defeated tone, “the show is officially off-air for technical difficulties. You can do what you want here while you wait - hell, you can leave if you want, just please be prepared to come back on the Sunday. We’ll have a discussion about whether Yoongi can return, and what we’ll do if he doesn’t. Understood?”

“Understood,” Namjoon offers up for the group, and the producer leaves with another sigh and an attempt at a comforting smile. You can’t help but feel bad for him, working such an emotionally draining job, especially when you’ve heard nothing but bad things about his employer.

Once the room falls into quiet again, Jin stands up, chair legs scraping against the floor. “Okay, I think we should decide as a group what we’re wanting to do. Stay or go?”

You open your mouth to give your two cents, but before you can, Jungkook suddenly chokes on a sob and covers his face with his hands, Jimin immediately scooting his chair closer to wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, what is it?” Jimin asks quietly, but the room is so silent that you all catch it. “Talk to me, bun. What is it?”

Jungkook takes a few stuttering breaths to compose himself, sniffling. “I don’t want you all to leave too,” he confesses, Jimin’s thumb catching a tear dangling on the tip of his nose, “isn’t Yoongi-hyung enough?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the elder promises, pressing a kiss into his hairline before looking up at the rest of you, eyes widening intentionally. “We’ll stick together through this until he comes back, yeah? It’s not all bad. The cameras are off, remember? We can have a break now, we don’t need to worry about the show. Isn’t that nice?”

After a moment’s considering, Jungkook nods slowly. “‘t is nice,” he admits begrudgingly. “But only if everyone stays.”

You can’t help but smile fondly, getting up yourself to come behind him, stroking his hair back. “We’ll stay, of course we’ll stay. Let’s spend some time together tonight, we can put on a movie and snuggle, how about that?”

He perks up at the thought of this, glancing around the table as the others nod in affirmation. “I’ll bring down the blankets,” he bargains, cracking a small smile, and the rest of the room relaxes, immediately bursting into sound as everyone arranges the necessary supplies for a good quality movie night, almost back to normal.

Jungkook, as the member of the Villa in most urgent need of a pick-me-up, is given movie choosing privileges, so the seven of you tuck in for a rewatch of his favourite Spiderman movies, perhaps the only thing that can keep him glued to the screen.

At first, the absence feels overwhelming to you. Try as you might through the opening sequence, you can’t shake it. Your mind counts heads without thinking, keeps looking at the space on the couch where Yoongi liked to put his feet up. Even though you know it’s his father who is unwell, not him, there’s the sick swelling in your stomach that makes you feel like his departure is final, and shortly after the title card plays out, you’re quietly excusing yourself and stumbling to the back door, in desperate need of fresh air.

It’s cold outside, a brisk wind cutting through you. You barely make it around the corner out of sight before your legs buckle, and you let yourself fall into a pathetic crouch, your weight propped up against the side of the house as you try to suck the chilled air into your lungs.

The panic creeps up on you in swells, the irrational fear that Yoongi would leave the show and you’d never see him again and everything would fall apart suddenly feeling like a whole tsunami crashing against you. Your fingers claw at the exterior wall as you fall back onto your behind, unable to even keep yourself in a crouch.

More so than the intrusive thoughts, it’s the image of Yoongi’s face falling, of him rushing out of the house in frantic distress that replays in your mind and leaves you suffocating. He looked so scared, your calm, reliable Yoongi. He was like a pillar, but that news was a fell swoop he couldn’t stay strong against. Your heart burns for him, cramping and aching in your chest.

For a moment, you picture yourself staying out here, gasping for breath until the sun goes down. You feel alone, more than ever since coming here, and even as the thought spooks you, there’s no energy in your body to do anything about it.

Just as your breaths start to sound more like death rattles and you curl your face towards the ground, a warmth envelopes your back, arms circling your middle and lifting you up.

“Hey, breathe, breathe with me, Y/n. I’m here.”

You recognise the voice. You recognise the built torso holding you steady, but your mind isn’t putting the pieces together, and so you simply squeeze your eyes shut and allow yourself to be maneuvered around there are hands on your face and a deep voice instructing you to look at me. I’m here; look at me.

You crack your eyes open, body heaving with the effort it takes to get any oxygen in your lungs, but you’re met with the soulful brown eyes of Kim Namjoon, narrowed in concern.

His hands are warm despite the frigid air outside, and you let yourself melt into him, eyes sinking to watch his lips mouth instructions, demonstrating exaggerated breathing for you to follow.

You feel distinctly like you might vomit, but you force yourself to match his breaths. The shuddering in and stilted out aren’t as fluid as his, but slowly your heart doesn’t thud in your ears and your body doesn’t shake as violently.

You feel damp, sweating all over, and your whole body aches, but your hearing begins to properly tune in again, coherence creeping back. “Na-Namjoon,” you gasp, wishing you had the energy to grab his arms or hug him or something other than lying limp against the wall of the house.

“Shh, hey, don’t strain yourself. Take it easy. I’m here.” He’s crouching in front of you, eyes locked onto you as he continues to hold you steady, jaw kept aloft by his hands. “Keep breathing, and it’ll go away. It’s a panic attack, I’ve had my fair share. You’ll come right.”

Trusting him despite the persisting burn in your chest, you let him coach your breathing for several more minutes, the heightened air influx making your head go light and floaty.

Once a counted breath turns into a yawn of exhaustion, you know the worst has passed. It leaves you boneless, not a single ounce of power left in your muscles, but you can breathe again, and it’s all thanks to the man across from you.

“I’ve never had one before,” you manage, voice cracking, “not like that.”

Namjoon’s lips press together in sympathy, and he turns to prop himself against the side of the house beside you, letting you continue breathing independently. “Is it Yoongi-hyung?”

You nod weakly, and the academic hums in confirmation. “I used to get panic attacks a lot in university. I used to hate them, thought they meant I was weak. Like I couldn’t handle the pressure as much as I thought I could. But, you know, these days I just figure I’m only panicking because it means so much to me. And I don’t think that makes me weak at all. It just means I care. Don’t feel ashamed about this, Y/n. All it means is that you care about hyung a lot.”

All the breath in your lungs leaves you in one rush as you prop your head in your hands, knees tucked towards your chest. “Yeah.” You wish you had something more appreciative to say, but your mind is waterlogged, weighed down and not functioning.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind the curt response. “I care about him a lot too. He’s like the glue for us, isn’t he? I’m worried to fall apart without him here keeping us in line. But we survived before we knew him and we’ll survive now. What’s better is supporting each other and waiting to see how we can support Yoongi-hyung, too.”

“You’re right,” you admit with a heavy breath, wiggling your toes to will energy back into them. “We’ll be okay.”

Namjoon bends sideways to bump your shoulder warmly. “That’s the spirit. Now; I’m happy to stay out here as long as you need, but Jungkook was the first one to notice you had been gone for a while, and I think he’s probably getting concerned by now. If you’re up to it, I can give you a hand to get inside and join the others again. What do you reckon?”

You lean your head back against the wall, taking a moment to consider. “What movie is he putting on next?”

“He mentioned wanting to check out Paw Patrol on Netflix.”

“Let me die out here,” you plead weakly.

Namjoon laughs, the sound like comfort itself, and stands up, offering you a hand. “Come on, kitten, up we get.”

In the end, the Netflix viewings manage to distract you for the rest of the night. When your limbs are tangled together and snacks are flowing, it’s easy to tune out of reality a bit and focus on the television screen in the comfort of shared company. Jungkook clears space on the couch for you the second you return, and clings to you for hours, his chin on your shoulder. You don’t complain, feeling soothed by the physical closeness. But the hours pass, and when the majority of you can no longer hold in your yawns, Seokjin gets up to turn the lights back on and clean up.

“Let’s get some rest,” he decides, and it’s that return to the real world that immediately dampens the atmosphere again, the group of you turning solemn. You pause to pull out your phone, sending Yoongi a quick message of support, and that you all missed him already, but no reply comes.

Without words being spoken, the seven of you remaining find yourselves flocking together as you make your way up to bed. Jin flanks the maknae as Namjoon and Hoseok lean heavily into each other, the four of them disappearing into Jin’s room. You naturally fall into step with the remaining two men, Taehyung linking his arm into yours and holding you close all the way to Jimin’s room.

Somehow, the house is too quiet. Even though Yoongi wasn’t a particularly noisy housemate, his absence cloaks the air.

You have no energy to shower. Washing your face is as much as you can manage, and Taehyung is even more despairing than you are, slumped on the toilet seat as Jimin cleans his face for him.

The uncertainty is what makes your heart flutter on edge, unable to wind down, and you know from the restrained looks of fear and distress in the guys’ eyes that they feel the same. The show would be undoubtably ruined if Yoongi couldn’t return. But more important than that, Yoongi would be ruined if he lost his father so suddenly.

Knowing Yoongi is hurting makes you ache, and you cling to your lovers like they’re your anchors in a churning sea, tucking your face firmly into Taehyung’s shoulder. It soothes you a little to be pinned between them, but the three of you still lie awake as the minutes blink by agonisingly slow.

At some point, you must fall into a fitful sleep, because when a sudden noise fills the room, it rouses you aggressively, and you almost kick Jimin’s shin in the process. Grunting, the half-asleep man rubs his face and twists around, fumbling on the nightstand for the offending noise.

It’s Taehyung’s phone, vibrating against the wooden table, and once Jimin blinks twice at the glaring screen he gasps and yanks the charger out, sitting up in bed. “It’s hyung,” he declares in a voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard from him before. “Wake Tae.”

You force yourself to dispel those last few wisps of sleep from your brain, and gently shake Taehyung awake. According to the clock on the nightstand, it’s almost two in the morning, but your heart leaps as Yoongi’s face fills the phone screen, looking right at the three of you.

“I thought you would be together,” he states with a rueful smile, though you can see that it doesn’t quite reach his reddened eyes. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung,” Taehyung whines, half of his weight on you as he leans in close, “we were so worried about you. How’s your dad?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow beneath mussed hair. “Not great,” he admits. “A little more stable, at least, but he’s pretty confused right now. Nurses worry that it might have affected his brain.”

Your heart sinks, both at the thought of a relatively young man suffering such awful health complications, but also at how Yoongi was trying to hide his exhaustion and distress. “Oh my god.”

“Mm, we should know soon what the damage is,” Yoongi explains further, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his phone aloft, “and if he’s alright I can head back h- head back to the Villa. He’s just been sleeping a lot today so… We don’t really know how he’ll be until he’s conscious for enough time. Yoonji’s with him at the moment, I just wanted to duck out and give you guys an update. Where are the others?”

“Jin-hyung’s room,” Jimin answers, even as he’s throwing back the covers. “They’ll want to hear from you themselves, just hold on a minute.”

You hear Yoongi’s voice echoing from the phone and strain to make out his words as Jimin heads to the door. “No, no, don’t wake them. I actually wanted to ask if you’d like to come visit? Of course none of you know my dad, and he doesn’t know you, but- Well, Yoonji and I could do with some company.”

You jump up, rushing to Jimin’s side. As he naturally accommodates your presence and pulls you flush against him, you lift your face up to the phone. “We’ll be there,” you assure Yoongi, “just please get some rest tonight. It’s been a rough day.”

Yoongi’s pained smile breaks your heart, and Jimin leads the phone back to the bed so that Taehyung can say a final goodbye before the three of you hang up and crawl, exhausted but somewhat relieved, back into bed.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜:

𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging nor trying to romanticize yandere behavior. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warning: Mentions of toxic relationship, yandere behavior, self harm, sexual scenes, guilt tripping, gas lighting and other forms of mental manipulation are contained within this post. Read at your own discretion.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟸𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟾𝟼 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟼'𝟷 𝙵𝚝

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■□□□40%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙻𝚘𝚠

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

• 𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 .

•𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

•𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

• 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕/ 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍.

•𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏- 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Normal Yunho at first seems like your average guy. He's very sweet, caring, playful and his close, and very few, friends he has would say that he's full of energy and smiles.

He just radiates this sunshine personality that draws people to him, although they may not stay very long.

He met you through mutual friends and acted the same as he did with others.

Albeit it's true, he was very affectionate towards you from the start, which both surprised and didn't surprise his friends.

But that doesn't mean he felt love at first sight with you.

Yunho isn't one to get overly attached right away.....yet.

It happened gradually.

He became attracted to your confident, strong and bold nature, all traits which he lacked in.

But no one knows that because he's good at hiding it.

You were also a very compassionate and empathetic person, which sealed the deal for him.

He admired you from afar, not wanting to get close to you just yet.

However, he'd get pouty and insecure whenever another man would show intentions of wanting to get close to you.

He'd whine often about it and that's how you found out he had feelings for you.

You thought it was cute, that he was cute.

So you were the one who took the first step to start a relationship.

Although shocked, Yunho was extremely happy.

As a boyfriend, he is very devoted to you, putting you above everything else, including his friends, family and health.

Everything moves really fast with him. Example:you had your first kiss on your first date.

Yunho just doesn't see why you have to wait if you two love each other.

"I feel like I've known you my whole life."

Not even 3 months later and you were already sleeping together.

Yunho sees that was the moment he went to heaven......

And that was the moment when hell started.

Yunho started becoming more and more clingy.

Texting, calling you at odd hours, asking you things like where you were, what were you doing, who you were with and if he could go see you.

He usually makes you stay till very late at his place that you have to spend the night with him.

No other option. He insists.

Even keeps spare clothes for you in a drawer he set aside just for you.

Till one day: "Why don't you just move in with me? It'll be so much easier and I could see you even more."

You hesitated, since you were barely 6 months into the relationship and you already felt smothered by his constant presence.

"I don't.... I don't know Yunho.."

He panicked at your hesitation.

"Why...why not? Don't you love me? Is it because you don't want to be around me?"

You began calming him down, trying to explain that maybe things were going to fast, but that only made him get more agitated.

It was truly terrifying for you to see him hyperventilating and choking on his own breathing like that.

Hot tears were falling rapidly down his face as he began saying:

"Why don't you love me? Is it something I did? What am I doing wrong? Tell me!"

"Yunho you did nothing wrong. You're perfect the way you are and I love you just the way you are."

He sniffled and wiped his nose on one of his sweater paws.

"Do you love me? R-really?"

You nodded your head in confirmation. But Yunho was still sulky about something.

"But then.... wha-why not move in? I p-promise you'll like it."

He looked at you with such fragile and tender eyes that you could not refuse him. So you agreed to move in with him.

Biggest mistake you made.

Even though he had his eye on you for most of the day, it wasn't enough for him.

If you were even 3 minutes home later than usual, he was badgering you with questions like:

"Who were you with? What took you so long?"

And you're like "Geez. Let me breathe."

Don't say things like that to him. He starts feeling bad and responds with things like:

"I know I'm sorry, I'm such a pathetic excuse of a boyfriend."

It honestly broke your heart to hear him say such things.

But it also irritated you how jealous he got when you hung out or even talked to another man that wasn't him.

He'd latched onto you in public if he felt you were paying more attention than he liked to another guy.

Sometimes would cause a scene that made you run back home in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry! I just can't help it! Don't you get it?! They're trying to take you away from me!"

"No! You're just an overly possessive and overly jealous boyfriend and I can't stand it anymore! I'm leaving."

"Wait what?"

Yunho watched in horror as you began packing a small bag so you could spend the night somewhere else, and pick up the rest of your stuff later.

All throughout that, Yunho begged, cried and went ballistic.

He repeated for you not to go, not to leave him.

"Y/N you don't understand....you can't leave me... I'll die, I can't live without you.."

You merely rolled your eyes at that. No one dies of a broken heart.

So you just walked out the door and rented a hotel room for the night, unaware of the mess you were about to wake up to.

You woke up bombarded by texts and missed calls from Yunho's friends:

"What did you do to him?!" "You heartless bitch!" "I hope you die if anything happens to him!" "All he did was love you and you destroyed him."

Then the hospital called you: Yunho had tried to kill himself in the night.

Your heart stopped when you found out. You felt so guilty and you felt like a monster.

Without thinking twice, you ran to the hospital to see him.

He layed there, still unconscious from the medication they gave him to calm him down.

You stayed by his side, praying that he'd wake up soon so you could apologize.

He woke up and although he looked surprise to see you....he was only feigning.

Of course you'd go out of your way to see him.

You were bawling your eyes out and holding him close, scared out of your wits at the thought that you almost lost the love of your life.

Yunho apologized, but you hushed him with a kiss, saying it wasn't his fault.

From then on, you began blaming yourself for everything....

And he made sure to remind you not to test him again.

You thought that after that talk, everything would be back to normal and you two could be a regular couple.

How stupid you were.

Life with Yunho now was like walking on thin ice all the time.

You couldn't mention anything about him that made you slightly uncomfortable because he's belittling himself with such foul words, crying to the point of hysteria....

But the worst times are when he's banging his head on a wall hard enough to draw blood, or punching the concrete wall so hard that his knuckles end up bloody and bruised.

You have a heart attack whenever that happens.

You've been so traumatized by his previous suicide attempt that any harm he does to himself sends you in a panic and you're holding him to you, comforting him and reminding him that you love him and won't ever leave him.

Then happy Yunho is back, as if nothing happened.

And he always wants you to reaffirm your love after such ordeals in the bedroom.

Yunho never ever fucks you, no matter how messed up he is.

He likes to take his time with you, going down on you or teasing you with his long fingers before he's thrusting his cock deep inside you.

Always cums inside you, always. With no protection.

It's a reminder that you belong to him and him only.

And also because he knows there's a possibility he could get you pregnant.

Which is what he wants.

If you two have a child together, it would only strengthen the bond you two have and it's another reason to tie you down to him.

And that's exactly what happened.

You were terrified and tried to conceal it for the longest time, but Yunho isn't dumb.

He was elated when he found out you were carrying his child inside of you.

Which only prompted his obsessive nature to escalate.

He made you quit your job because he wanted you to stay home to take care of your baby.

Of course, that's just an excuse to keep you from leaving the house.

You two also officially got marriage, and that was it for Yunho.

He finally succeeded in bounding you two together for life.

As a father, he doesn't mind sharing you with your new baby daughter.

He loves and adores his daughter very dearly because she is a physical manifestation of the love between him and you.

But she's the only child you two are having. There's only so many people he's willing to share you with.

To others, he's a doting and loving father and husband.

In the eyes of an outsider, you guys are the perfect family.

But you.....you stopped fighting a long time ago.

You resigned yourself to accept that this is your life now and you'd better make the best of it.

You're no longer the strong, confident and decisive woman you once were.

Yunho made sure to tear that all down to the point where you simply just act in a way that'll make him happy and won't trigger him to repeat what happened years ago...

Especially not in front of your daughter. You do not want her to experience what you did.

So the question remains.....how do you escape Yandere Yunho?

Well....... you have two choices:

Either spend the rest of your life playing into his façade of a perfect relationship, that's the easier choice.

It certainly spares you the mental, emotional and physical strain of fearing when his next suicide attempt might happen if you do anything that'll result in him degrading himself or guilt tripping you into staying with him.

Or..........kill yourself. But keep in mind that if you do, he won't be too far behind from you. In the words of Yandere! Yunho himself:

"Nothing will ever break our bond, our bond is forever. Even in death, our love will go on."