#and simply some of the worst writing and acting in existence

[subliminalbo]

I'll admit that I have a weakness for movies that are half good and Shyamalan has made a lot of half-good movies, but Trap is mostly all good!

I really liked Trap.

[deepdarkdelights]

Predator (Jungkook x Reader) Part II - Prey

Pairing: Vampire Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Series: Predator Universe

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Vampire Jungkook, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationships, Blood (So much of it), Fear (Copious amounts), Panic/Anxiety Attacks, Mind Games, Tormenting the MCs, Discussions about dead bodies, Jungkook and his unblinking stare, Self Injury (Non Mental Health Related), Forced Feeding, Isolation

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: The worst part was that you never tried to run. Jungkook never tied you down to anything or bound your wrists or feet. He simply knew that you would never try. It would be idiotic for you to try and run, you knew he was a talented tracker - he would be able to find you within minutes of your escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from him, he would always be able to find you.

A/N: I am alive! This was entirely inspired by an ask that was sent to me so the entire reason this exists is because of the wonderful anons who have asked be about what has happened since the end of Predator and who have asked to see what a more lucid Jungkook would look like. I haven't had this much fun writing in such a long time. I'm sorry it's so short, I hope you can forgive me 💜

READ PART I - PREDATOR

_______

It was dark and quiet, the only sound being the steady, slow, drip of water hitting the dusty floorboards and the harsh chatter of your teeth as they clashed together. 

You were freezing, your body trembling despite your best attempts to collect yourself. It was no use, no matter what you did you were never able to warm up anymore. You knew it wasn’t all that cold outside, but that didn’t really matter. Despite the chills that wracked your body there was a fine sheen of sweat that coated your skin.

You were unsure as to how much time had really passed since you had found yourself here. All of the days had begun to blend together like some horrible fever dream you simply couldn’t wake up from. The only constant in your life has become him. 

If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was trying to kill you. 

What was truly likely, was that this was a side effect of his treatment of you. It was very likely that he just didn’t know how to take care of a human. And despite your incessant pleading, he had told you that he would not kill you. So really, it was his own ineptitude that had you knocking on death��s door.

Your skin felt grimey, not entirely from lack of hygiene, but from the film of blood that coated your skin. It was all over you but it mostly dominated your cheeks, lips, throat, chest, and fingers. He was not violent when he claimed his feeds, but he was not necessarily gentle either. You hadn’t looked in a mirror for quite some time, but you were certain no amount of vampire blood would be able to seal your wounds with how often they were readily reopened.

This wasn’t a life, it was a slow and painful trek to the afterlife.

Your trembling increased as the front porch creaked, he was already back. Your head lolled backwards and hit the wall behind you in defeat. You couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t give him another part of yourself - this time you were certain that it would kill you. 

Every time he fed from you, there was a horrible, delightful, exhilarating rush that followed. Whatever it was that he was doing to you, it was forcing you to enjoy the very thing that was killing you. It was perverse. It was disgusting. It was addicting.

It was hard to hate him in the throes of ecstasy, there was this horrible thrill that came the second before his fangs pierced his limb of choice as you knew you would be rewarded with bliss in the moments that followed. It was easier to hate him when he wasn’t there, his lack of presence giving your mind the briefest of reprieves to remind yourself of the horrible situation you were truly in. 

The distance, however, didn’t seem to allow him the same clarity. If anything, it made him grow more needy, more irritated, and more clingy.

The door creaked open, and your time to yourself disappeared. Your body shook tenfold as his presence filled the room. He still looked the same as he did the first time you had come face to face with him. His clothes were worse for wear, even more blood stained and shredded than they had been before. There was a permanent coppery scent that surrounded him, the dried blood being the prime suspect. 

You were certain that you didn’t smell that much better. Although, to a vampire, you probably would smell all that more enticing.

His gaze was immediately drawn to you, your eyes locking with one another, bridging the fifteen foot gap between you. His eyes often fluctuated in vibrancy depending on how hungry he was. The days where they were near black were the most difficult for you, but today they were a bright crimson red. He had fed on someone, someone who luckily wasn’t you.

“Hello little mouse,” He greeted, his voice low and surprisingly soft, devoid of the almost manic tone you had been familiar with for the longest time. 

He began to close the distance between the two of you, his gait smooth as he approached you. The way he moved was unnaturally perfect, the silent power of a predator imbued in every muscle of his body.

He wordlessly dropped a bag in your lap as he sank down to the ground beside you, his wide, red, unblinking eyes staring at you, waiting for you to make a move. No matter how much time you have spent with him, his stare was still unnerving.

It took you longer than it should have to open it, your fingers trembling beyond your control. But Jungkook was patient, he has all of the time in the world to wait.

The scent of food hit your nose, your mouth watering and your stomach growling eagerly in response. From the color of his eyes and what he had brought you, you assumed he had decided to have his fill of a hiker instead of you. 

Jungkook didn’t know how to take care of a human, that much was obvious. He had, however, been keenly aware of how much blood he was draining from your body on a daily basis. You had become so weak, anything but sitting felt like a herculean task nowadays. And the lack of consistent meals was weighing heavy on your body.

You didn’t care that he was watching you eat, your mannerisms ravenous and most likely off putting. But you no longer complained when he took his fill of you, and for some reason he remained silent and returned that courtesy. 

You had noticed a shift in his behavior when that other vampire had found the two of you not that long ago. He knew Jungkook, from the way they spoke it appeared he knew him very well. This other vampire, despite how he appeared more human than Jungkook, frightened you just as much. You could tell from the curl of his smile to his confident gait that he was just as bad, if not worse, as Jungkook.

You had nearly fainted on the spot when he suggested the two of them share you, you were already tapped out as it was, Jungkook had fed on you that morning. The two of them, together, would kill you for sure.

To your surprise, Jungkook had not responded enthusiastically. He responded like an animal defending its territory - baring his fangs and growling in just barely contained rage. And that reaction had set off the other vampire and before you knew it they were a blur of limbs.

They moved so fast your human eyes could barely keep up with them. You were only able to focus when one of them threw the other giving you just enough time to watch them separate before they came back together again. The sound their bodies made when they clashed together was like thunder from what you could only assume was the pure force and strength they possessed. And, much like animals, they ripped and tore into one another with their teeth and nails.

By the time the two of them had finally separated for good, it was because of how much they had injured one another. The both of them were covered in wounds oozing black blood, some of which was their own, and some belonging to the other.

The other vampire, whom you had briefly heard Jungkook address as Hoseok, was tired but still enraged.

“Are you fucking serious? All of this for what, a pathetic little human?!” He yelled, his nostrils flaring in anger. “It’s food, Jungkook! I’m your brother!”

Your body flinched out of habit at the snarl that left Jungkook.

“With the rate that you’re going you’ll kill her anyways! Why does it even matter?!”

“She’s my human,” Jungkook replied, his voice low with warning.

“This isn’t even supposed to be about her! She’s nothing! Namjoon sent me to come and find you but you know what, I think I’ll let you deal with the consequences of your actions. It’s only a matter of time before he comes for you and when that happens, you're on your own!”

He disappeared quickly after that, it was like he was there one moment and then vanished the next. Once he was gone, Jungkook’s once sturdy stance softened, his shoulders bending forward from the strain of his own weight. He was hurt, badly.

He slowly turned to look at you, the red of his eyes and his dark mop of hair just visible over the curve of his shoulder. You knew that look, it usually didn’t end well for you. 

“No, no, no, Jungkook, please!” You whimpered, scrambling backwards.

But it was no use, he never listened to you anyways. He always took what he wanted, even when you had nothing left to give. 

He stumbled when he moved but he quickly regained his footing, his black blood stained hands grabbing you by the shins and pulling your retreating form towards him. You fought as hard as you could but you were already weak to begin with.

“Stop it, please!” You begged, but he didn’t listen. He wrapped his arms around you, his grip too tight and utterly uncomfortable. 

“Jungkook-”

“Shut up,” He grunted before yanking your head roughly to the side and sinking his teeth back into the scarred skin of your neck. The shriek that left you was borderline inhuman, the building scar tissue made the intrusion all the more painful and Jungkook was not gentle.

And he had already taken so much blood the day before. It wasn’t long before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you went limp in his iron hold.

That was the first time that Jungkook had given you vampire blood. You had almost died that day, you had gotten so close to finally being free of him and still he wouldn’t let you go. Even death wasn’t a great enough adversary for him. 

When you had woken up after that attack, shocked that you managed to survive, you were met with those big, red, frightening eyes. The look on his face was the most serious you had ever seen it before, an odd clarity in his eyes that you were seeing for the first time.

He had been dreadfully quiet since then, speaking even less and shorter sentences than he normally did. You wouldn’t say he felt bad for what he did, but he had become increasingly aware of the inherent fragility that came with being human. He never apologized, but he had fed from you a lot less after that.

You froze mid bite as you felt his icy fingers graze your flesh, the coolness biting your skin and seeping into your veins. His touch was feather light, just barely there, but you went still beneath it anyways. You were incredibly aware of the strength that was concealed in that touch. He appeared unbothered by your response, his thumb smoothing over the curve of your jaw as he leaned in unbearably close.

You flinched at the feeling of cold metal being draped around your throat, his fingers clasping the material at the nape of your neck. It was a necklace. Your chest felt tighter, the food in your stomach quickly souring. 

He was doing it again. 

You were well aware of Jungkook’s strange and disturbing habit of taking mementos from his victims. His ears, wrists, neck, and practically every inch of his body were adorned with items he had stolen. You noticed he had an affinity for jewelry, but his jacket and boots had been taken from someone’s corpse as well. And, recently, he started bringing them back for you as well. 

Your bloody fingers were littered with several rings, a bracelet on your right wrist, and your ears decorated in earrings - some of which he had pierced himself. And now, the necklace.

It left your stomach in knots when he did this, you couldn’t help but think about the bodies abandoned in the woods that he had slaughtered every time the metal glinted back at you. Each piece felt like another shackle keeping you at his side. 

The worst part was that you never tried to run. Jungkook never tied you down to anything or bound your wrists or feet. He simply knew that you would never try. It would be idiotic for you to try and run, you knew he was a talented tracker - he would be able to find you within minutes of your escape. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide from him, he would always be able to find you.

And so, you had become his plaything. His dinner and now his doll, a weak body that he could play with and decorate to his greatest desires whether that be with a corpse's jewelry, or a litany of scars.

“Pretty,” He said, his voice deceptively soft as he grazed the skin of your neck, his fingers moving from the clasp of the necklace to trace over the scarred imprints of his fangs and teeth.

You were thankful that he wasn’t hungry.

The odd, calm atmosphere between the two of you was quickly dissipating. Jungkook shifted away, agitation clear on his face as an annoyed growl parted his lips. You flinched back against the wall, scooting away to stay out of his path. 

This wasn’t unusual - he had been having rapid mood swings lately.

The few moments of peace the two of you would share were often interrupted by the sudden pained twist of his features - his eyebrows drawing together and his nose scrunching in a snarl. It almost looked like he was in physical pain despite there being no signs of any injury.

And then, the pacing would start. It was like watching a caged lion sweep the perimeter of their enclosure. Back and forth, slow and menacing steps. It was like he was looking for something, or trying to guard the two of you from someone else. You hadn’t dared to ask what he was doing, to be entirely honest you tried your best to avoid initiating any interaction or conversation with him at all. The few times you did speak to him, it was usually to beg for him to leave you alone, pleas that often fell on deaf ears. 

You didn’t know what to do with this. When you first “met” him, he had been sadistic, like a zealous child with more power than they knew what to do with. He had wanted to play his sick and twisted games with you and the plan had always been to gorge himself on your blood and leave your mangled corpse deep in the forest to wither and return to the earth. That was what was familiar to you, that was what you were expecting. 

You were never supposed to live, that had been an unfortunate circumstance, a split decision he made to prolong your torture and pain. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do with this suddenly quiet, confused, and barely human creature in front of you. One that would rip open your flesh to feed just as soon as he would leave bruising kisses on your lips and throat, painting the flesh a rich red that was left to rust.

You were waiting for him to snap, waiting for it to all finally be over. But that would be luck, luck that you didn’t have. He had promised you, so long ago, that you would never be alone again, that he would keep you. And you have suffered the consequences ever since.

When he said your name you felt your blood freeze over. He had never said your name before, you didn’t even know that he knew it. He had always called you that horrific pet name, his little mouse.

You wrapped your arms around your legs, pulling them into your chest in an attempt to feel some sense of security as he continued to speak. 

“We’re leaving soon.” He said, the words simple but the expression on his face ever so complex. Reluctance, frustration, pain, anxiety.  

You swallowed, but did not move. The silence was deafening. But, by the look on his face, you knew that he was waiting for your response. You would have to break the stalemate. 

“Are you…taking me home?” You dared to ask, your heart thundering in your chest as that predatory gleam returned to those red eyes. 

“No,” He growled, his jaw clenched as his fangs ground against his lower set of teeth, “You’re not going back there, ever.”

Your heart shattered. 

“I’m being called back to my home.”

His home? This was the first that you were hearing of it, you never stopped to ask yourself if he had a home. You couldn’t picture it even if you tried, it was a puzzle piece that simply didn’t fit. You had always assumed he was simply a nomadic creature that moved as he hunted. And, due to his supernatural nature, it seemed that he never needed the typical human necessities and comforts such as four walls and a roof. 

You knew he had some sort of family at the very least. You had, after all, had the displeasure of meeting Hoseok who had referred to himself as his brother. And he had mentioned the name Namjoon, the phrasing suggesting a hierarchical structure. But even the notion that he had a family felt just as mismatched. And how ironic it was that he was returning home to a family he didn’t even want, and he wouldn’t let you go home to the family that you missed so much. 

“And that’s bad?” You hesitantly asked, flinching as he growled in frustration. 

“It’s worse than bad!” He yelled, his hands sliding through his hair in stress, “It was difficult enough fending Hoseok off, but all six of them? You’re as good as dead.”

Hope.

“Then…don’t go?” You said, although it sounded more like a question. By the way he was acting, it was like returning was not a choice. 

“If only it were that easy,” He laughed, the sound bordering on being unhinged. “I can’t ignore it, if I’m called I have to answer. If I don’t it becomes more and more persistent. It feels like a cord that grows tighter and tighter until it pulls and my body moves on its own and takes me back.”

That explained the pacing, the restlessness his body had been experiencing. He had been trying to redirect it by walking the perimeter of the decrepit cottage but it had been a temporary fix to the problem. You could only assume that he was getting to the point now where his body was ready to return against his will. 

How horrible it was, to be someone’s unwilling puppet. You knew that feeling all too well. 

You didn’t know what you were supposed to tell him. There were no choices to be made by the two of you. He would have to return, and he wouldn’t leave you here on your own as he knew you would be given the greatest opportunity you have ever had to leave him. So, he would have to take you with him right into the lion’s den where you would undoubtedly be consumed.

He was mumbling to himself now, his pacing becoming more frantic and much faster, your human eyes struggling to keep track of him. You were sure that he was moving so fast he would wear down the old floorboards beneath him and the soles of his beat up boots.

You could only assume that meant the call was becoming even stronger. Before - it was asking, now it was commanding.

You had never seen him so frantic before, those wide blood red eyes unblinking and shifting back and forth faster and faster as his thoughts raced. It was borderline demonic, like something you would see during a paranormal movie or an exorcism. It was terrifying. 

You began to scoot back as far away as you could until your spine was flush with the wall behind you. You felt better with some part of you concealed from the open, but that did little to calm your racing heart and the creature that raged in front of you.

What was he so afraid of, so panicked by? You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him, not with how terrifying he was on his own. What could be so bad, so scary, that it frightened a monster? You weren't sure you wanted to find out, even if it meant you could finally feel the sweet embrace of death and escape him once and for all. 

Jungkook finally came to a stop, his body still but his eyes continued to move erratically. And then they too settled, and a look of deadly calm settled over them. He had decided something, and you were certain that whatever his decision was it wouldn’t be good for you. 

“They wouldn’t,” You heard him mutter to himself, “Not if I put a fail safe if place.”

A fail safe?

Before you could even blink he had moved across the room, faster than your eyes could track. Your body had been ripped away from the wall and set in between his legs, your spine pressed against his chest, the both of you seated on the ground.

An uncontrollable wail shook your body, the sound emanating a feeling of pure hopelessness. You had been surprised it came out of you, but you knew why. You were terrified he was going to feed from you again. 

His one arm was wrapped around your ribs, his legs tensed and forcing your own to squeeze together. He had immobilized you, there was nowhere else you could go and no way to escape him. 

Your entire body shook and heaved with hysterical breaths as you writhed in his grip. “Please, please don’t do it again I can’t take anymore of this!”

He hushed you, his free hand brushing over your hair in a surprisingly gentle manner. It was more like someone who was trying to calm a startled stray animal than anything else. His touch moved to your chin, lightly taking hold of the point where your neck and jaw bone met.

He didn’t say anything, instead he forced you to look at him, turning your face so that he could look directly into your eyes. And then, to your shock and horror, he plunged his fangs into his own wrist and ripped the flesh wide open. A torrent of thick, viscous, black blood rolled down the pale flesh of his forearm. And before you could do or say anything he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head back before pressing his open wound to your mouth. 

You gagged at the smell and taste, tears blurring your vision as you tried to move your head away but he did not budge. His arm around your ribs finally moved but only to help him pry your jaw open and force the blood flow down your throat. He continued to hush you as he forced you to drink, gently rocking your body in stark contrast to the harsh and violent hold he had you in. 

“Just relax,” He whispered against the shell of your ear, “The more you struggle, the longer I’ll keep you here. We need to get as much of my blood as possible into your system.”

You were crying even harder now, the salt of your tears slipping between his wrist and your lips and mingling with his blood in your mouth. What had you ever done to deserve this? What horrible thing had you done in some past life to deserve this kind of punishment?

You just wanted to go home. You wanted your mom and dad, your grandparents, and the gentle comfort of your bed in your childhood room. You wanted that life back, and you were never going to have it again. 

His harsh grip on your jaw loosened as you went limp in his arms, resigning yourself to your inescapable fate. His hand returned to those soothing strokes against your hair, a low hum in his chest vibrating against your back as he watched you feed from him with a curious gaze. You were such a weak little thing, you needed him more than you would ever understand. 

You hiccupped pathetically when he finally removed his wrist from your mouth after what felt like hours. Your lips and chin were stained black from the blood he spilled when you had struggled. He stared at you again, curiosity evident in his gaze, as he leaned forward and licked the flesh of your lips, tasting his own blood.

You shivered as he made a soft hum, cocking his head to the side before doing it once more, stroking over the bitten and chapped skin with his tongue as he transitioned into kissing your battered lips in a grotesque act of intimacy. He laughed against your mouth as you weakly pushed against his chest, he was amused by your pathetic attempts to push him away. It only encouraged him to kiss you harder and deeper, sampling the taste of his own blood straight from your mouth. 

Once he was satisfied he finally allowed you to breathe, a devious gleam in his eyes that you had not seen in a long time. 

“They won’t be able to kill you for a while now, not unless they want another vampire to worry about.” He said. He was gloating, reveling in the win his family had no idea he had already achieved.

Your blood ran cold, your body freezing at his revelation. The very thing you craved, your own death and by association freedom from him, would be the very thing that would trap you with him for the rest of eternity. If you were killed with his blood in your system, you would become one of them. He truly had taken everything from you, even the dignity of your own death. Your life was his and his alone.

He really was a monster.

His features suddenly twisted in pain, his head jerking to the side as he released a low and threatening growl. The call was becoming even stronger, the most intense it had ever been. There was no more delaying it. They had to go, and they had to right now. 

He quickly lifted you into his arms as his body began to move on its own, forcing him to begin to move in the direction of his home. There was nothing more that you could do, all you could do was remain limp in his arms. It was over, there was point in fighting anymore.

He had finally broken you. 

When he stepped outside you were shocked by the fresh air and the cold weather. Then again, you always feel cold now. The clouds were thick today, the sun hidden behind their cover. It had been so long since you were outside, and even longer since you had been in the sun - that wouldn’t change in the near future. But what truly shocked you, was that the world went on without you. The seasons continued to change, the flora continued to flourish and then decay. The cycles continued while you were stored away. How cruel the world was to keep going on as you withered away. 

You leaned your head against his shoulder, shielding your face from the harsh wind as he began to move faster, running at his impossibly fast pace that no human could ever wish to match. How had so much changed? When did you go from human being to a play thing for a monster like him. You had a life, but now it had become inconsequential, toyed with and thrown away like it never even mattered.

What were you supposed to do now? At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. He had won, he had played his sadistic stupid games with you, and he had won. He had broken you. You tucked your chin into your chest and like the pathetic creature that you were you whimpered.

You cared about what was going to happen next. If Jungkook had been wrong, then the two of you walking into the proverbial lion's den would end with you turning into one of them, a fate worse than any other that you could imagine. To be tied to him for all of eternity would be your personal hell on earth. 

What would they do to you when you got there? Would your death before your next life be slow and torturous, or quick and merciful? Would it be planned and intentional, or accidental? 

Jungkook began to slow, his fast pace relaxing into a natural walk. The tension that previously rested in his body had begun to dissipate. You could only speculate this was the relief of obeying the command to return home. His control over his own body was slowly but surely coming back to him the closer the two of you came to his home.

He stopped for a moment, placing you down on your own two feet before he took hold of your wrist and forced you to follow after him. Your knees wobbled beneath your weight, unaccustomed to you standing after being curled up in a ball in that abandoned shack for the longest time. You looked more like a baby fawn learning to walk than you did that meek little mouse Jungkook always thought you were. He, however, paid little attention to you at that moment. He was tense, his body in a state of alert as subtly surveyed the area as you continued on. 

He could sense something that your dull human senses weren’t entirely picking up on. However, the hair on the back of your neck prickled and your gut twisted as you felt phantom eyes digging into your body. 

Someone, somewhere, was watching you. 

A building began to break through the cluster of trees. A modern, contemporary house in the middle of the forest was coming into view. This was the last place you thought of when Jungkook had mentioned his home. In all honesty, you would have been less surprised by a crypt and a row of coffins.

In front of the house, stood a man. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his eyes that familiar shade of deep burgundy, the same shade the monster’s eyes were when he was hungry. This sent chills throughout your body, your entire being sensing the danger in the vampire that stood across from you. 

Those burgundy eyes swept towards you, a look of shock and confusion discoloring their once calm gaze that you speculated was rarely rattled. His features twisted as he took in the state of you, the dried human and vampire blood that coated your body in thick layers, the dirt that was caked into your clothing, your hair that needed to be washed, and the smattering of scars that decorated your body and glistened in the cloudy daylight. 

You were barely human anymore, you were a walking corpse.

“You called me home, Namjoon.” Jungkook simply said, his body moving to shield you from the other vampire's gaze.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon said, utter disbelief tinging his words, “What are you doing to her?” 

In every possible scenario you had conjured in your mind, this had not been one of them.

Sympathy.

_______

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can you write a Dream BBQ Ena x Emotionless Reader?

More spefically Ena and Reader have been partners for a long time Ena being the more emotional one while Reader barely smiles in a year but then one time after a particularly brutal day of typical rejection and dislike bb people Ena feels more down then usual and finds a letter in her room that simply and basically says "I'll always be right beside you ~reader"

Thanks!

When Ena first started dating you, she knew that you'd come as a "surprise package deal". Never knowing how you'll act and being ready for anything.

However, she notices that package was severely lacking in "emotional factor"--more specifcally, you didn't show much emotion.

You carried only 0.5% of the emotional capacity in this relationship, while she conquered the other 99.5%...and it's been that way for the longest time.

No matter what shenanigans you both got up to while carrying out assignments, she has yet to see you crack a smile.

Of course, you'd express annoyance, discontent, and the like with your job. But she cannot recall a single time she's seen you smile.

There was one occasion where she saw a brief twitch of your lips after a rude customer spontaneously combusted...but that was a year ago, and she's certain her memory of that specific moment is thoroughly infaccurate.

Despite her best efforts, she can't get you to smile for her.

Even when Salesperson flirts with you and gives you hugs, or when Meanie demands you to "stop looking so damn heartless"....your expression barely wavers.

The truth is that it's not "trauma" or anything significant in your life that's made you become emotionless.

You've always been like this. It's that simple.

But apparently Ena thinks there's a deeper meaning, and she's desperate to unlock that mystery someday.

Froggy doesn't think it's a big deal, as smiling's not part of your job description nor any criteria, but she insists he'd never understand the "unique partnership" you two have.

One day, she goes off on a solo assignment...and has some deep regrets on not inviting you along when everybody she spoke to was extra rude, getting her name wrong, and/or threatening her with violence simply for existing.

Normally, she wouldn't have a care in the world....until one client in particular mocked that she'd never find love and that in the unlikely event she did have a partner...they'd be "absolutely disgusted".

Nothing even warranted that outburst.

She only did them a kind favor and that's their repayment.

But....could it be true?

That your emotionless demeanor was directed to her and her alone? Were you telling her she was disgusting and abhorrent to be around without saying a word? Did you only stay with her for the benefits?

The thoughts wouldn't leave her head as she dragged herself home, throwing her hat off and flopping onto the bed, the weight of that stranger's words pressing down on her like a bag of anvils.

"Maybe this was a pointless endeavor. They deserve better. I'm just a lower class citizen...chasing a pipe dream.." She mumbles into a pillow, ready to accept and sink into her depression--

But then her clawed hand makes contact with a piece of paper. Something she hasn't noticed before.

Turning her head, she realizes that it's a letter addressed to her. From you.

She expects the worst. Your resignation from this partnership. An eviction notice. An itemized list of grievances.

But it's none of the above.

Instead, what you wrote to her felt like you've given her the winning lottery numbers.

"I may not express it as often as I should, but I love you, Ena. And I'll always be right beside you--[Y/N]"

"P.S. Here's that smile you've always wanted :)"

In an micro-instant, she went from wanting to sob into her pillow to hugging it as she giggles like a schoolgirl, reading the note over and over again.

Suddenly, her world's not imploding anymore.

Suddenly, life's worth living again.

Because you showed her that you cared in other ways.

[unintentionalseductress]

Why does everyone portray Caleb to be 'dark romance, zade meadows' coded? :/

Yeah he's got yandere traits to wanna keep her forever and for himself but he never implies that he'll hurt mc- instead expressing a fierce desire to protect her, so why do ppl write ffs Abt him being manipulative? Making him have 'rough jealous s*x' in which he's spewing a bunch of hurtful things just to manipulate mc to his liking?

I guess it's because of the initial show of possessiveness in his trailer, but literally every love and deepspace guy is possessive so why portray him so darkly?

I like that you portray him more realistically to his character and not so ooc because that's what it feels like most of the time

Hello there anon! I'm glad you think my portrayal of Caleb feels more realistic than some other interpretations. I really don't know where this concept of comparing Caleb to Zade comes from since Zade literally r**es the MC in that book and I simply can't picture Caleb doing that?

This might be a much longer response than you'd expected and I'm sorry, but I've been taking little notes as I went through Caleb's memories, anecdotes, and myth. I feel like most of the people that are portraying him in this sadistic way simply didn't read all the material and just clicked through to get the diamonds.

So let me start by saying, all the other 4 LI's met MC quite recently, meaning they had no say in her life and weren't there when the Chronorift Catastrophe occurred. They met her as an adult, when she'd had time to put herself together and act like a rational grown woman.

Caleb met her at the worst time in their lives as a child until Josephine adopted them. They trauma bonded and after all they've been through together, they're extremely possessive of each other. Not just Caleb, but even the MC as well. She's just as paranoid and possessive about Caleb as well, and this is evidenced in their memories which I will delve into shortly.

But imagine being so close and growing up with this person that you think you know like the back of your own hand. She and Caleb appeared to be quite close up until the explosion. Now MC had to deal with the loss of her second family, and possibly the love of her life. Yes, I said it. The love of her life, because after going through the memories, there's nothing that can be said to change my mind that these two weren't in some kind of relationship before Caleb's death.

Now Caleb is back. MC is wary of him, she's scared to be possessive of him like she was because she knows what it's like to lose him. Caleb has no idea where he stands in her life, and inside it's because he knows he fucked up. He realizes he wants her back, the same woman who was just as obsessed and possessive of him like how he was with her and he has no idea how to fix it.

Caleb imo slides into the tip of the yandere iceberg because of that scene in the main story where he says he'll rebuild their house in Linkon and they can move in together etc. To me, that's the effect of the chip (more to be discussed about that below), and also him literally breaking down because MC said his worst fear to his face; she doesn't need him anymore. How do you recover from having the one person you've loved for most of your life look at you with so much hate and say they don't need you? (reminded me of Sylus a little bit when he's told MC is disgusted by him) For him to be truly yandere, he would have locked her up then and there but he doesn't. He backs off, allows her to get back to her life unharmed, and he keeps himself busy with work. That doesn't look like true yandere behavior to me.

NOW. MYTH EVIDENCE. The part with the chips. The chips seem to exacerbate certain feelings that already exist and take them to the extreme, hence why people who are chipped are very emotionless and almost have a robotic character to them, perhaps to avoid the pain of being emotional. In his myth, we find Caleb actively fights the chip, and it puts so much strain on his body that he falls unconscious or goes into fits. I think that 'yandere' scene is because the chip and his body are at odds with each other. Even MC when she chips herself, finds herself being manipulative of Caleb, trying to make him think of memories that were only half-truths. They're both obsessed with each other, and without the chip, it was fine, but with chip, things get crazy.

Also, I think it's safe to say, Caleb hasn't shown yandere tendencies towards MC in the past pre explosion, beyond telling her to be careful during missions or to let her know when she got hurt. He wasn't upset because she wasn't staying at home, he's upset because she's hiding things from him (like when she lied about getting scratched by a cat pre explosion).

NOW ONTO THE MEMORIES. Because omg, there's so much evidence in the memories that Caleb realizes his limitations in his ability to care for her. In their bond memory Rain's Embrace, when MC is asleep on his shoulder, Caleb literally says something along the lines of "I promise not to be so overprotective of you." He says something similar in Endless Summer and Exclusive Aftertaste, stating he knows his tendency to protect her isn't good for either of them.

And to show how possessive MC was of him. In the memory Longtime Yesterday, we find out Caleb was super popular in college and many girls tried to befriend him by giving him bento boxes. His friends teased him saying "Miss Apple" helped him avoid having to accept the bento boxes. MC literally sulks all the way back to the airport and when Caleb asks her what's wrong she goes, "You have a Miss Apple," like that was a perfectly plausible explanation. Miss Apple turns out to be a hairtie that Caleb took from MC that has apple shaped beads on it and he wears it (presumably on his wrist) all the time, which drove away unwanted attention from other girls. MC was so upset prior to hearing this, and Caleb reassures her that he doesn't want anyone else's attention but her's.

In Borrowed Promise, which occurs when MC is still in high school, Caleb is visiting from college and MC has a fight with a friend who is a girl (important). Caleb notices she's unhappy and takes her to a fair of sorts to cheer her up and she tells him she's worried someone may not like her anymore. Caleb tries to act nonchalant but you can tell he's thinking MC has a boyfriend or a crush and he goes "their loss but oh well you're not for everyone." It's at this point she tells Caleb it's a girl and he's dumbfounded but his relief is evident.

And my favorite, Stage Observer. MC is helping Caleb empty his dorm since he's about to graduate from college and she finds an envelope tucked away in one of his books with cutesy apples on the surface. She mistakenly thinks this is a love letter and then gives a very confused Caleb the cold shoulder for the rest of her visit. Then on his graduation day, she softens and helps fix his tie as he's about to give his valedictorian speech. During this time, she admits she's scared about him finding someone else and he says he worries about her meeting someone else too, but he's happy having just her and grandma in his life. In his speech, Caleb talks about how people go through their whole looking for meaningful connections with people but he's fortunate to have found the one person he knows he can count on. Afterwards, MC runs to him and gives him what I think is their first kiss. And why does she do this? She says, "I kissed you so you can't have a girlfriend now!" Caleb is confused and then she finally admits seeing the envelope. Well guess what? It turns out the envelope actually holds a good luck charm she had sent Caleb but the cover got ruined so Caleb replaced it with the apple envelope. He teases her but the ending implies they now know how they feel for each other and that was the start of a more romantic relationship between them.

So there. MC is just as possessive and obsessed with Caleb as he is with her. He knows that and it's because he's so in tune with these feelings that to him, his actions don't seem out of line, because that's how he expects her to be with him as well. I think like the other boys, his love is limitless, he literally says, "I love you more than you realize" in his myth. He's struggling with mental health and trauma and I think people just want to downplay him for various reasons without delving into the complexity of his character, or the incredible history he has with MC, not from a past life, but in this very real, present one. He was there with her during a time when she didn't know a Xavier, a Rafayel, or a Sylus (maybe Zayne since Caleb mentions him).

There. It feels good to get this out. I will end this by saying, sure, Caleb qualifies as a dark romance, maybe a mild yandere, but definitely, nothing along the lines of Zade because I genuinely don't think he'd want to hurt MC by doing something that could hurt her or violate her consent.

I'm open to more discussion on this. And a reminder about my usual policy; if you have nothing nice to say, scroll on by.

[tokoyamisstuff]

In your opinion who is the worst yandere to be stuck with and why Alucard, Captain, Enrico, Alexander and Walter, jan.

A/N: Keep asking, my child is sick and I'm nap-trapped for hours a day. 😂 Written on my phone so pls bear with me. Also, I don't feel comfortable writing about Jan. Sorry. 🫶

Sorted from best to worst.

⚠️ Dead Dove - Do Not Eat. ⚠️

5. Alexander Anderson

"Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you." (Genesis 3:16)

As long as you play along, you have nothing to fear.

Just like with the orphans, Anderson is very gentle to those he is fond of. So he'll provide you with a domestic life, even though prisoned and heavily supervised.

Either himself or his trusted members of Iscariot always have an eye on you, making it basically impossible to even think of getting away.

The priest has some very strict demands about how you as his partner should act. Would never touch you against his will, though. He'd be fine with keeping his celibate as long as you're with him.

While controlling his bloodlust exceptionally well, he'll definetly let it out on others shall you misbehave. Preferably people close to you, claiming they're bad influence.

Better never mention you miss anyone from your old life, since he gets jealous very easily and with his kind of power he can make them disappear at a whim.

Other than that, Anderson really just wants you to be at his side and, in his wicked perception, protect you from this dangerous world.

4. Enrico Maxwell

"Don't be so fucking ungrateful. You were a nobody, and yet I treated you like a goddess!"

With Maxwell you'll feel like a bird in a golden cage.

He has a constant need to prove his worth, and overcompensates his lack at understanding true human connection with what he mistakes for care. So he'll shower you in gifts and other pleasantries, and takes it very personally when you don't properly appreciate his efforts in his eyes.

Also gets easily offended when you don't reciprocate his advances, especially when you deny him physically. But even smaller, more insignificant gestures he will over-analyze in his fear of rejection.

On the other hand I can see him being very subsceptible for flattery and the likes, so you can use his insecurities against him. Inflate his ego with sweettalk or whatever's necessary to keep him pleased.

The worst part is that he literally thinks you owe him affection.

3. Alucard

"Shh...it's over now. You endured so well, my love. As always."

Alucard is very confident to keep you at his side due to the sheer amount of might he possesses. So with him you get a lot of freedom, at least metaphorically. You can roam around a lot, talk to other people, almost act like you have a normal life.

He would never force himself on you due to his own experience with SA, but he won't be able to keep himself from taking your blood on the regulary. It's simply addicting to the vampire, and sometimes he goes overboard and leaves you anemic. A few times he almost killed you while indulging in the taste of your essence.

Being the abomination he is, he craves being accepted nonetheless, no matter what side of himself he presents you. He'll entertain himself by unleashing undescribable horrors just to cradle you in his arms shortly after, never actually physically but rather emotionally scarring you. After a while, sleep seems like an impossible task.

He is very well aware of the absurdity of his actions, but cannot seem to stop himself.

2. The Captain

This man is clouded in mystery, so I can see this go two very different ways: Either you're his sole sweet sanctuary from this cruel existence, or a moral support for the last remnant of his humanity.

While he is calm on the outside, still waters run deep. His love is a two-edged sword that will eventually end in your demise. The curse of immortality made him insane and nihilistic, and most of the time it's a walk on eggshells with him really.

In general the Captain is rather soft, but he doesn't see you as a person. You're like a doll, a toy to do however he pleases with, until he gets bored and throws you away...or you break. Whatever happens first.

Also, the man is part of Millenium. Most probably wouldn't dare messing with you, but the possibility of getting abused by the organization isn't completely off limits, for example if it's an order from the higher-ups.

Especially full moons are terrifying, making him even more violent and unpredictable.

1. Walter C Dornez

"If I can't have you, I'll make sure no one ever will."

The weakest yet most violent and unhinged of them all.

Stops at nothing to make you obedient, can rob you of your free will with little to no effort. It will start harmless with ruining your reputation, but ends up at extreme kinds of torture, like withdrawal of food or mutiliation to make you less appealing to others.

His paranoia is dangerous for you even when you did nothing wrong, there is no way you won't be punished one way or another. Being with him is merely a mixture of dread and immeasurable pain.

Nothing you ever do is good enough for him, because it's not genuine. That contradiction is driving him crazy, and will hopefully end your misery at some point.

[sevinagreatergood]

I'll be up front with people. Since many may assume I'm a reasonable person. I'm not. I'm not at all. If it's one thing I have learnt in life, it's when people go low, I go lower without shame or a thought.

When I entered the fandom, I tried to be reasonable. I truly did. I even spent a whole month on making an essay explaining Snape's life and breaking down as much as I could at how not horrible he is. People have called me insane and that I needed therapy.

Guess what kind of people? Snaters. Being reasonable made me a Nazi, fascist, racist, and mysoginist. I don't know nor can I talk about other Snape fans, but I am easily fed up.

Now, snaters are not really humans in my eyes. They have family? I don't care? They're a woman? I don't care. They're a man? I don't care. I don't care about you, your troubles, nor your social network.

You cease to exist as a human in my eyes. Why? I hate hypocrites the most. I simply hate them. And snaters are full of them. They hate him as a teacher? Minerva, Remus, hagrid almost killed kids but they find excuses for them.

They hate Snape for pulling Slytherin up front? Albus, the boss of school adores Gryffindors. Minerva adores quidditch Gryffindor. Hagrid hates Slytherins. But they find excuses for them.

They hate Snape for being a DE. Same fuckers either read or write romanticizes version of joining DE that they label as Nazi.

Not to mention that those fuckfaces ride Bellatrix, Evan Rosier, Lestrange, Voldemort, Avery jr, Wilkes, Mulciber, Regulus Black, Narcissa, Lucius and Draco in cowboy style or something. They find excuses for them. I'm not even talking about fanon style. Some fucking bitch on TikTok is telling me Regulus is grey because he helped Albus. That's the fucktard in anti-snape fandom.

They hate bullies, yet the same fucking idiots love Sirius, Remus and James. With their infamous excuses:

- they were boys

- Snape gave it as good as he got

I'm glad your characters died. I'm glad James died feeling that insufferable failure of being so useless and powerless for once, they should've tied him up and made him watch how lily got crucio'd.

Maybe people thought I could be reasoned with. But I am fucking done with snaters. IRONICALLY they hate Peter, why? His face. It all boils down to the pretty face card. Snaters would suck Ted Bundy's dick or something. Snaters would side with the pretty criminals even if their acts were heinous as long as they have a face.

I hate that whole mindset. So fuck them, fuck them all, go fuck yourself, and take your bullshit sarcasm:

- I think you need help

- you know what's funny

Up your ass. I truly, truly, truly despise snaters. I'm done reasoning with them because they give me the most brain rot shit that I begin to start tweaking or something. If you think why? Well thank your anti-snapers that go around calling simple Snape fans Nazi, fascist, mysoginist and racist.

As soon as one of them begin like that, I call them racist too, classists supporter, grapist supporter, pedophile supporter, because apparently, to snaters, it's "who can spew the most bullshit" game.

I seem to have mistaken it for the "who can be reasoned with" debate. My fucking bad. But I'll join the game anyway.

Also, if you love or hate all characters INCLUDING Snape, this post isn't meant for you. This is purely a post for people to read that, snaters love actual racist Death Eaters with a kill count, bullying Classist boys, spineless authoritative responsible boy/girl, horrible friend, teachers with an actual murder attempt but hate Snape.

The least worst of them all. Snape was the least worst death eaters without a kill count. He was so not racist, Bellatrix found him suspicious. He was a strict and snarky teacher at most. The others almost killed kids. Snape was unwillingly surrounded by Slytherins, lily made willingly friends with people that spoke shit about Snape even though they were best friends. People downplay Snape's bullying a whole lot. He remembered James as his worst memory over war. That's how traumatizing that what James did, was.

[hpdabbles]

HP Fanfic Idea: The Woods are Just Trees

Regulus always knew his brother inherited their mother's mean streak. They spat insults the same way; their eyes gleamed with the same amount of vicious glee, their mouths twisted with the same amount of satisfaction whenever they made the other person cry.

To Mother and Sirius, they won whenever they saw the tears of their opponents. It could be something serious, like Regulus accidentally spilling a secret they didn't tell him was a secret, or something as simple as him bothering them with his presence.

Sometimes, Mother would snap at him because she was upset, and he was close enough nearby. Sometimes, Sirius would all but growl at him because he wanted to relieve some stress. Then the two would act like it never happened, as if he wasn't standing by the wall, wary of their mood swings.

As if he wouldn't lie awake at night going over the day, wondering what he had done or said to set them off. Why do they act like they loved him more than anything in the world one day, and then suddenly they remembered how much he annoyed them whenever he opened his mouth? It only seemed like they disliked him because neither reacted this way with their friends or the rest of the family.

He would have to remind himself that they were good people and he just needed to work on himself more.

Regulus always forgave them. He just learned to watch his words. Recognize the signs to vanish from sight whenever one of them was having a bad day. Limit the hours spent around them to avoid accidentally ruining their day.

Before long, Regulus stopped leaving his room. He locked himself in his four walls, losing hours to searching through book pages and trying to find ways to fill the time. He would pick up hobbies like picking strawberries in a field: reading, writing, scrapbooking, knitting, crocheting, jewelry making, bookbinding, painting, drawing, and anything else his family could afford for him to try.

It was better this way.

Regulus knew they loved him, but they had a problem with their anger. It was the kind of anger that consumed and made them want to lash out. It was explosive, but much like fireworks, it was bigger and brilliant than simply gone.

Usually, by the end of the day, they would be back to smiles and thoughtful actions because they weren't in the wrong - Sirius and Mother were never in the wrong - but it would be silly to linger on an argument. In their worst arguments, they would pretend Regulus didn't exist for a couple of days.

They wouldn't talk to him or even look at him until whatever anger was boiling under their skin vanished. Gone like the winds of winter, seemingly gone but back again in a few short months. A constant cold.

Regulus wants to say he was better than that. But he knows that's a lie. He inherited his father's anger. The kind that shut him down, where he would go months without speaking to someone over a simple argument.

He was prideful, to the point that he would be willing to burn himself alive if it meant not allowing the other person to feel they could move on. His mother and brother couldn't hold on to a grudge for so long.

His father didn't visit his grandfather on his deathbed because the old man had called Orion a loser five months before. He hadn't gone to the funeral either, scoffing when Regulus' aunt begged him to.

Instead, Regulus had watched his father reference fights long since buried - apparently ones since before Orion even attended Hogwarts - and had to live with himself for putting his foot down. Had to bite his lip so hard it bled as his aunt sobbed like Orion was the one dying, but it was their own father that was being lowered into the ground.

Regulus hated how he could see it gutted his father to not go. But he would rather live with the poison than admit defeat. It was like looking at a twisted mirror.

Regulus had his father's anger, his grudges, his stupid, ridiculous pride that sank into his veins and poisoned him until he could no longer feel anything.

Maybe that's why he went along with Sirius' and Mother's act like nothing was wrong after a fight. Why didn't he mention the burning storm hiding behind his eyes as they slipped back into place within his life? They thought themselves forgiven.

He knew they weren't worth the effort.

But he let it happen. Again and again until one day, Regulus realized they thought he was like them. That only Orion Black couldn't let things go.

That day, he proved them wrong was the day Sirius went too far. When his brother got angry, it was as if all rational thoughts vanished from his mind, as if nothing else mattered, which meant he could win.

Their relationship was on the rocks ever since Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, but Regulus was too soft to really do anything about it, at least according to Sirius.

It was apparent his brother grew more and more jealous every day of the approval Regulus had from their parents. How his determination to uphold tradition made Sirius' skin crawl. How he turned his nose up at the sight of Muggle-borns just like he had been taught, while Sirius tried his best to befriend the magic stealers.

But what really tore them apart was the way Sirius interacted with James Potter. Despite the years they have survived their tempers and their disagreements, Regulus realized Sirius didn't actually like him.

He loved him, but that was likely due to all the years they had spent together. Froced to love him with enough exposure. Sirius adored James and loved him like he had never realized what family love was supposed to feel like. He would never behave that way with Regulus.

The second he realized it, Regulus' world changed. Maybe he would have stayed. Perhaps he would have gone to become the son his parents so desperately wanted. Maybe he would have been the youngest Death Eater, serving a man he deeply admired. Perhaps he would have been everything Sirius claims James Potter isn't.

Maybe the pain of ever being even liked by his brother would lead to him sobbing uncontrollably in his room. But that's not what Regulus feels.

Instead, he feels a freezing, devastating coldness. He's angry.

Angry like his father, in an unreasonable way that's more self-destructive than sensible.

He rushes to his room, packing all his belongings he could realistically carry in a crazed haze of ice-cold anger (Best not to cast any magic. Less traceable that way). Regulus leaves his wand on his stripped bed, knowing that the Trace would be tracked back to him if he took it, and it's like he's cutting his own heart open, leaving it behind, letting his wound bleed as he closes the door to his dorm, and his wand hoster sits empty.

He slips from the Common room, walking by students in the hallways without a single word. He doesn't stop, even when some of his friends call his name, even when the caregiver demands to know why he has so much on his person.

Regulus doesn't break his stride once, even when he makes it outside and passes Sirius and his group, cursing Snape to dangle by his ankles near the lakeside. It's actually a lucky break.

With everyone focusing on Snape's undergarments and that Evans girl stepping in, no one notices Regulus reach the edge of the wards. No one sees him throw his bag over the wall, or the way he carefully climbs the walls using the muscle memory of climbing to his rooftop as a child to get away from the family tension.

No one sees him walking straight into the Forbidden Forest. The woods stretch on for miles and miles. He keeps walking until the sun has set, and the forest comes to life with growls and soft hoots of owls. He doesn't stop when his feet start to ache from all the walking.

Regulus ignores the centaurs that watch him from the edge of the trees, poised over the string of their bows. He lets his eyes flicker to the fleeing herd of unicorns, but he keeps going. His eyes burn, his steps start to wobble, and it takes significantly more effort than it should to move his legs, but still, Regulus pushes on.

He swears he stepped over a sleeping mountain troll and saw more than three Acromantula following him, but even then, Regulus does not stop.

He's too angry. Too upset.

Too sure that come morning, Sirius will realize that Regulus is long gone and he won't have someone to disrespect anymore. Now his stupid anger will be taken out on his group of friends since his favorite punching bag is gone.

Sirius will then see how fast they turn away from him. How unlike Regulus, no one will be willing to put up with his mood swings.

Eventually, the sun rises, a few of its rays slipping through the branches, but not enough to make a noticeable difference. Regulus has walked so far into the forest that its dimmest light setting is when the sun is directly overhead. He stops walking at the base of a giant tree that has been carved out.

It likely used to be the home of a traveling giant because it towers over his head as tall as the Gryffindor Tower, and it has stairs carved inside, leading to the top of the tree where ledges are place as if they were hanging rooms.

Regulus ends up tumbling to the ground inside the tree because his body can no longer push further.

He is sweaty, dirty, hungry, his feet are likely bleeding, and he is exhausted. But a flash of Sirius's smug grin goes through his mind, and he finds the will to get up and set up camp.

He doubts he will be here long.

Sirius would come racing in here with a group of searchers, attempting to bring him home, and when he tried to act like nothing happened, Regulus wouldn't let him. He would force him to look bad in front of everyone, and Sirius would be so desperate to look good in front of everyone.

Regulus will likely get detention for this stunt. A lecture to end all lectures from his mother and a grounding that may affect his chances of joining the Death Eaters from his father.

But it would be worth it.

He just had to wait for Sirius to come and get him. Regulus wouldn't go back unless it was at his brother's groveling. His anger, his damn stupid pride, would never allow it.

He just has to wait.

Regulus knew Sirius would come for him even if he didn't like him. He had to. He wouldn't let his fourteen-year-old brother be at the mercy of the Forbidden Forest.

Yes, Regulus nods to himself. He wouldn't. Nobody would. I just have to be patient, and I won't be the one running back to them this time. That Regulus Black is no more.

What fourteen-year-old Regulus didn't know was that he would be learning about family tracking magic in later years for his Charms classes. In another life, he would know sometime in the fifth or sixth year that his family tapestry would only track the beliefs of family members.

It was created in a time when spells weren't researched as deeply, relying on the fact that people didn't usually think of themselves as dead, so the images reflected this.

But the second thought, that Regulus Black is no more, the tapestry acted accordingly. The old Regulus was dead to him, and now where his face once stood in the tapestry was a gleaming skull with the numbers 1975 resting under it.

His mother lets out a scream when she sees it. His father breaks open a bottle and doesn't stop drinking until it leads him to an early grave four years later.

And Sirius? He merely stops talking about the brother he once had. Sometimes, when he is drinking, he'll mention how soft Regulus was, too much of a coward to be anything but what his parents wanted. But those are sporadic moments.

Regulus stays in the forest, setting up shelter in the hollow of a tree, finds a source of drinking water, learns to hunt for food, and waits for someone to come see him.

Sixteen years later, while he's slowly tracking some Acromantulas that he plans on feasting on with his trusted bow- he had struck a deal with the centaurs, brewing them the few potions he knew in exchange for some hunting lessons- he encounters two children being led by a shaking black dog.

It takes him a moment to recognize the uniforms they are wearing- a Slytherin and a Gryffindor- and even longer for him to find words. It's been so long since he last saw another human that he has almost forgotten what it was like to look down instead of up at the centaurs.

"Hello," He croaks as the two children stare wide-eyed at him. They looked scared stiff, the blond one on the verge of tears, and the one with green eyes looking just as green in the face.

It's not like he hasn't talked since he's been in here waiting, but he is a bit out of practice, so he'll forgive them for that reaction. He lowers his bow, stepping closer. "What are you two doing in the Forbidden Forest?"

[ilikekidsshows]

I hoped that after some time I could be more forgiving for how Marinette acted in the Werepapas battle, but no, that episode still killed the love square for me.

Why on FUCK's earth should I ever want Adrien to be forever stick in a relationship with a person who literally decided that preventing from having to have a difficult/ uncomfortable conversation is more important to prevent than straight up KILLING him?? I don't think I've ever seen a piece of media make it literally it's job to use the "power of true love" to so viciously send every bad message possible to children that domestic abuse is fine as long as it's the girl doing it.

Can you imagine the absolute outrage if Maribug was treated by Adrichat the way she does him in both identities? The way the show literally NEVER asks anything of this girl when it comes to accountability in the love square? It actually feel VILE by now how much pride the show takes in writing Marinette to see no true value in Adrichat's human dignity and personhood the second hurting and using him is of more benefit to her. She's still doing all the same fucked up shit as always, she has no growth and has to literally be coddled and worshipped into having any kind of chill, but only after she is always validated and absolved of any real blame because her only true "flaw" is 'not having been coddled enough any second of her life' so it's fine that all she ever does is being a toxic / abusive deceiver and hypocrite, crying and screaming and raging until she gets what she wants because 'she's the one deciding this!!!', and very kindly teaching you that her hurting you is actually a sign of how pure hearted and loving she is ♡ isn't that literally what Ladynoir is? And now Adrinette too? Her being fine with killing Adrien to avoid an uncomfortable conversation, or just watching him in Ivans episode be excluded and blame himself for how things went with his father and doing nothing to release him from that twisted victim blaming because Adrien still thanked her for something and that's all she cares about in the end.

Marinette's writing in the love square since season 4 is simply VILE imo. How is this in a kids show? Much less a kids show that nonstop prides itself with being "feminist" and "progressive". Everything awful a main character can do to their love interest Marinette does without holding back and she not only is held to zero moral standards by the show beyond "making sure Adrichat and the viewer understands that actually I'm a pure hearted saint and have done nothing wrong ever beyond being misunderstood in how pure and right I am", she actually gets nonstop validated and rewarded for doing so.

Seriously, WHEN was Maribug ever held truly accountable for her behaviour and actions in the love square? Everything gets always swept under the rug, she hardly ever improves even a tiny bit and still does it, and it's always ADRICHAT who has to do all the effort in any of their dynamics because Maribug can't go unvalidated for 3 minutes.

Why should I possibly want Adrien to be stuck with her for the rest of his life? Every episode since s4 is going out of its way to explain to me why Adrien should stay away from her as far as humanly possible. Chat Noir still doesn't get to exist as a real person, still has nothing and no one while having to be the eternal scapegoat and tool to use however she pleases, and Marinette is the entire entire time putting her feelings first when it comes to Adrien's abuse and was literally cool with KILLING him as long as it meant not needing to face an uncomfortable situation where people could be upset with her.

What an absolute NIGHTMARE of a main character to be stuck with as love interest. Just kill him, it would be mercy when it think about what the show will have her do to him in the next 9 seasons...

---

The worst part of it all is how casually such an earth-shattering thing is treated. I’ve previously said that Marinette choosing killing Adrien as her Plan A makes it obvious she actually has no moral code, but it's more than just the only sign of her hesitation being her closing her eyes for a moment, unable to once again face the consequences of her actions head on. It's the fact that a hero having to make this kind of choice is normally presented as a hard choice and a huge deal. A hero having to choose between their personal moral code and saving the day is the stuff made for season finales. In fact, ‘Volpina’, what is basically the S1 finale, has this same exact scenario, except faked by the villain.

And yet, when it's for real, Marinette willingly chooses to pull the trigger herself, in a run of the mill episode. I feel like that's a huge part of how casually careless the treatment of Adrien's very life comes across, that the choice wasn't hard, the situation wasn't dire, and it was fucking episode 5 instead of an event episode of some form. No, introducing Adrien's grandparents doesn't count as an event, ‘Befana’ and ‘Bakerix’ weren't events either. Marinette committing the premeditated murder (I can't emphasize enough how low the stakes were and how much time she had to deliberate this decision) of her boyfriend is treated as small stakes, as just another Tuesday, that's what really enforces the feeling that Adrien is not safe with Marinette.

Even before this blatant disregard of Adrien's life, Adrien’s entire existence is such an existential nightmare at this point, there are points where I’ve felt like he’d be better off dead. He’s a remote control robot, part of a species of magical beings that can only exist with their freedom and free will being conditional. Like, there have been moments where I’ve thought he should just get to Cataclysm himself, he’s repeatedly shown he wants to do it, it's the only way he'll truly escape his nightmarish existence, and I just want him to rob Marinette of control over him, since she has been shown to control whether he lives or dies now. I just want him away from her, no matter what extreme methods he needs to use to accomplish that. I hate that this show makes me that miserable over having Adrien as my favorite character.

Preferably, though, I think he should kill Marinette instead. He should find out the truth and then assassinate the heck out of her. He should get to go full Anthy on his prince-coded love interest. Utena perpetuated a system of violence towards her princess and she got stabbed over it, and Marinette has done so much more, she has already killed him once with her own hands.

Utena got stabbed for less. Adrien should get to stab Marinette. As a treat.

[l0singsdogs]

promo time.

don't worry im alive ( jason todd & bruce wayne). completed. words: 3,482  chapters: 1/1 

Bruce Wayne always knew letting Jason go was the right thing to do — especially when his boy seemed to carry pain on his shoulders and the past in his smile. But like any father, he asked for one small thing: a single text message every year, just to let him know he was alive. Letting Jason go had been one of the hardest things Bruce had ever done. But he was a father — and even the worst of them make sacrifices.

opinion: Basically, where Bruce lets his son — aka Jason Todd — go and live his life. I’ve always believed Jason deserves something better in some way, and this is what came out of it. Something painful but with a beautiful ending. I’m seriously thinking about writing a part two, but I’m still debating it — maybe.

"do you want to play with me, b?" (jason todd & bruce wayne). completed. words: 1,897  chapters: 1/1

Bruce Wayne hallucinates Jason sometimes. It happens in his worst moments — when fear toxin rushes through his veins, when battle overwhelms his senses, when the weight of the world feels too heavy on his shoulders. But he never expected to hallucinate Jason in his office, not when he thought his mind had stopped playing those cruel tricks. Yet, there Jason was, or at least the version Bruce's broken mind conjured. And Bruce couldn’t help but feel that familiar ache in his chest — a pain etched deep into his very soul. "Do you want to play with me, B?" his son asked. Bruce simply nodded, watching his little boy stand beside him, if only for a minute.

opinion: All I can say is that I got inspired by a Turkish drama (Yargi), where a character references his daughter in a horrible moment, and I thought to myself: Why not do that with Bruce? And this came out of it. I just like writing Bruce suffering — he deserves it.

when the masks fell. ( dickkory, timkon, jason todd x hapiness, batcat, stephcass). ongoing. words: 23,164 chapters: 5/? 

A world where there were no aliens, no metahumans, and no second chances at life. Where the Justice League didn’t exist, and heroes were nothing more than characters in movies. Where the Joker was just a playing card, and Batman was nothing more than a clever turn of phrase. Gotham was just another city. The police did their best to keep the streets safe. A world without heroes. Without vigilantes. It's a normal world. Or maybe the Batfamily had fallen into another universe—one where vigilantes, powers, and mutants were never real, where there were no secret identities, only family, goals, and dreams. Or perhaps, for just a fleeting moment, Bruce Wayne could dream of a normal life.

opinion: It came from things I saw and because I wanted something new. It’s the first thing I’m starting to write. But I love it because I’m having so much fun thinking about certain things. Obviously, we all want to see Dick Grayson as a world gymnastics champion.

good older brother. (dickkory) completed. words: 3,719 chapters: 1/1

Dick Grayson always liked the idea of being an older brother, but the downsides of it were something no one ever told him about. Or simply, a moment where Dick Grayson tries to have a date with Kory Anders without his younger brothers bothering him — and, of course, he clearly loses that battle. Or just a scene of Dick acting like the older brother while also trying to have a date with Kory at the same time.

opinion: A universe where I'll soon be posting more because I really like the idea of Bruce adopting everyone when they were younger. I love DickKory.

knightfall eternal ( dickkory background ) ongoing. words: 13,553  chapters: 4/? (very dark careful with the tags).

When Red Hood and Nightwing are sent on a mission to take down a new metahuman in Gotham City, they never expected to fall into another universe—one much darker, where the night has always ruled. It's a Gotham where the Dark Knight is more vengeful. A city where the light never seems to reign. Or simply a world where Jason Todd and Dick Grayson find themselves in a universe where Batman truly works alone. Where the Batfamily never existed. And maybe, just maybe, where Batman is far more terrifying than they ever thought possible. There was no life left in him. No humanity. Or a universe where Batman truly works alone. Where the Batfamily never existed. There was never a Robin. Batman lets himself be consumed by his inner beasts.

opnion: There’s not much to say — I just wanted something dark to write about, and this came out. Read at your own risk because this Batman has no humanity, like the vampires in TVD.

[gazstations]

We'll Meet Again

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SUMMARY

You tackle your emotions regarding grief after you lose someone you love dearly.

FANDOM: Call of Duty 

PAIRINGS: John MacTavish x reader

WORD COUNT: 2,166 words

WARNINGS: Mentions of main character death, spoilers for MW3, grief central, no defined happy ending??? No use of y/n

◇ Notes: I have been writing fanfic for over 11 years, and I am terrified to post this y'all. I have never written for the COD fandom, and I am going to combust. Y'all absolutely slay me with your writing. If this post is seen, hello guys. I am going to retreat into a hole now.

This is just a dabble and release of some intense emotions I've had using our favorite Scot.

○●○ NAVIGATION MASTERLIST

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

THE AFTERMATH OF LOSS WAS THE STAGE PEOPLE NEVER WANT TO ADDRESS. Perhaps for a valid reason. Every simplicity of life becomes a breeding ground for perpetual sadness. And with it comes the realization that a part of your life is now lived through foggy memory as you try to grasp every detail before it’s inevitably whisked away. It’s the pleading to remember, even just a small fraction. That’s the most heart-wrenching feeling. 

Grief is usually defined solely by the main events–the actual loss and then the funeral. Closure is important; the act of moving on and accepting what has happened. Though, the lull of stagnancy is the stage after that threatens all the acceptance you think you’ve managed. A morning cup of coffee becomes a quiet sobbing fest at the kitchen table. Your favorite song is now the bane of your existence. Certain scents linger about and grip at your heartstrings until your muscle is nothing more than shredded material. The dullness is worse than the initial grief because that’s when you know there’s a void that once was whole.

That cup of coffee becomes the bitter reminder of all the times you sat at the same table, but you weren’t alone. The seat across the way was taken over by a mass of flesh and bone–a lively beautiful thing. Now, that seat remains forever pushed against the table, weeping with the lack of use. 

You can no longer hear the chords of a sweet melody sing from the radio because the lyrics hit too close to home. Because when you claimed that song, you thought of someone else. It captured their essence and everything whole–almost like it was perfectly crafted for the both of you to whisper well into your years of life. 

The scents are the worst part because those can show up completely unexpectedly. It can be anything–the cologne, the laundry detergent, or the shampoo and conditioner–that attacks you. But you can’t bring yourself to throw any of it away because it feels like you’re erasing something that should never know what it’s like to be forgotten. So the clothes lying in a heap on the bedroom floor remain untouched to not disturb their authenticity. The cologne sits on the corner of the dresser, the liquid inside never going down. The shampoo and conditioner sit on the shelf in the shower as if the plastic tubing will be squeezed by its rightful owner. 

And the thing about life is it does not wait for you to bounce back. You must set aside your grief to contribute to the wider universe even when all you want to do is set yourself ablaze until you feel absolutely nothing. If you could burn out the parts of you that cave under the pressure of insurmountable agony, you would. You don’t want to be burdened by a wave of sympathy for a world that didn’t stop for you; a world that took selfishly from your puny hands simply because it could.

And yet, like a lost child, you come out into the world again because now you must find a space to fill the void that now resides in you. You never learn your lesson because even if you try to sever all ties with this existence, you crawl back naively. Thinking that this time when you give your soul out, you won’t be hurt. It’s an endless cycle, and you’re the only one crushed in the end. 

It had been a week since your love died in the winter freeze. And since then, you felt stuck in limbo. Wake up, remember, drown, sleep. Wake up, remember, drown, sleep. Over and over. The buds of life can’t be planted again, not when the seed was made to be harvested by calloused hands that remain no longer.

John MacTavish filled your world with the golden light that caressed your skin. He was everywhere. Because that’s who he crafted himself to be. He burrowed his essence into your life because to him, he deserved to be there. And he did. His body was crafted by the same petal that made you. Your flowers bloomed on your own branches, but together, you created an existence that could be marveled at. 

He lived his life with an infectious purpose. Johnny did not do things in halves. When he stitched himself to your side, he did so wanting and knowing that one he was there he would now have to stay forever. When you so lovingly joked that you could break up with him, he proved why that would never be an option. 

He knew you would be devastated to live without him. 

So it was almost cruel irony that all that intent to stay soon led to the departure. But perhaps Johnny did that with a purpose as well. For a man who was so adamant about existing in your world, he sure was eager to leave. Or maybe that was the bitter part of your heart that wanted to pull on the rubber band until it snapped. Once it snapped, maybe you wouldn’t feel the yearning that burned through every nook and cranny of your body. If you could be bitter, you couldn’t be agonized. Right?

No, bitter people were always agonized. The two went hand in hand. Pain flirted with anger. 

It had been too early to see past your bubble of sorrow, but long enough to know in some way you were numb. Life became a monotonous gray world without your Johnny. This was the outcome he was always so afraid of leaving you in. Some part of him always prepared for that chance. 

You refused it. You spat at the idea. It won’t happen. But you knew it would. Pretty things always got snuffed out once the freeze came. The petals died, the flowers weeped. Until they were ready to bloom once more.

Your spring wouldn’t come. 

Johnny’s team burrowed their way around your ribs. To the world, they were killers, weapons of destruction. To you, they were just men. It was hard to think of them as anything else when you analyzed them through the dull filter of your eyes. 

His captain, John, always had fingers itching towards temporary vices, amber liquid more accustomed to his liver than regular water. He was strong. Had to be when his other boys were busting at the seams. But even he could not stop the natural flow of grief that plagued his body. Years of training to be detached were naught, especially when someone said his name. A flinch, a sorrow, before he schooled his expression. The team adapted to only call him “Cap.”

The other sergeant, Kyle, was the peacemaker. He was a quiet presence, but not for lack of talking. No, he was the reason the house stayed standing. Dishes were done before the thought to do them crossed your mind. He helped you muster the strength to cook, adding small touches that made the flavors pop. He was sassy. He made you laugh even when your heart felt like it was caving in. 

Then there was Simon. The watchdog. He sat by your front window for long hours. Observing. Analyzing. For what? You never knew. But he always was on guard, protective for the occupants in your cottage. You never said anything, just like nobody said anything when you dragged him to the bed you shared with Johnny. You slept better with the heavyweight nearby, and Simon got to protect Johnny’s muse. 

It was difficult not knowing the full detail of Johnny's demise. You were a civilian and would always be on the outside looking in. You could tell the truth danced on the tongues on your new housemates, but they remained tight-lipped. John almost told you once before he shook his head and bid you goodnight. 

Bullet through the head. That's all you knew. Bullet severed all his synapses so quickly, he was gone in the blink of an eye. It should've comforted you. Should’ve offered you some reprieve in your tormented heart. But it didn't.

For some reason, your grief festered then. He didn't even get a chance to fight his way back to you. What would've been the alternative? A man who functioned only half of what he used to be? Would that have been mercy in your eyes? No, it might not have been better just to say he was one of the rare victims that survived a killing shot.

It was after his death that your birthday eventually rolled around. You weren't even sure your housemates knew, so you didn't say anything. The day was like any other. The one time it landed on a weekend, and you wished you were at the monotonous ebb and flow of your job. 

Kyle was gone doing god knows what. He had been gone when you woke up and hadn't returned by noon. Simon was around. He had his tea, disappeared into the home gym Johnny had crafted for himself, took a shower, and then helped John with some paperwork. John, he had been shut inside a room he claimed as his psuedo office all morning. You heard him on the phone at one point, but other than that, it had been quiet. 

You found random things to occupy your time with. As if your melancholia wasn't leaking out into your home. You cleaned, you ate, and you sat outside. But nothing quelled the ache that nested into your chest cavity. Your birthday was a clear-cut tragedy. 

However, you should've figured Johnny would find a way to make sure you were noticed. At one, Kyle returned bearing gifts. He seemed chirper despite it all. His chest was puffed out in pride like he had a new purpose. Undeniably, part of his uplifted attitude seeped into your pores. Kyle was good at that. 

Like clockwork, John and Simon emerged from the depths of their isolation. John made a comment or two about Kyle being late, to which Kyle responded that the bakery messed up your dessert and he had them start over. Fondness filled your heart at that. They knew it was your day and were trying to make it something. 

Kyle presented you the cheesy gift of a teddy bear and flowers, saying Johnny demanded it was tradition. It made you wonder how often Johnny spoke of you and when he even mentioned what he did for you every birthday. Even if you rolled your eyes at the collection of stuffed creatures throughout the years. 

Johnny really had taken care of you.

This year, however, your gifts were accompanied by a mixtape. Johnny's small chicken scratch writing greeted you. You turned the CD case over in your hands, hesitant despite it only being music that would probably greet you. 

The men surrounding you understood your reservations. John put a hand between your shoulder blades, a silent offering of assurance. It was almost a fatherly touch. In the time you have come to know him, you understood why his men looked up to him. He was an energy you naturally wanted to gravitate towards. 

An almost inaudible expression of grief left your lips. You wondered when it would get easier to not have Johnny in your life. You wanted him back so deeply that your heart was shattering into little glass shards. 

Would John care if you clung to him like a wounded child? Your eyes flickered up to the captain's, asking for something. Help? Something. You were never sure these days what you wanted.

“Go on then, love,” John spoke for you, urging you to pick yourself up from your brooding heap and figure out what was on the CD Johnny burned just for you.

You did. Your muscles still operated as you stood to your feet and carried yourself over to your CD player. Those things were collectables now, you cherished yours heavily.

The men took their spots respectively across the room. They were nearby in case you stumbled and never found the drive to get back up, but they also knew you deserved the time to yourself. They watched as you popped the CD into the player and pressed start, sinking into a cross-legged position on the carpeted floor. 

The first song came through clearly. Johnny Cash and his guitar serenaded you. It sucker punched you right in the heart, made your heart let strangled, pumping breaths, but stole them at the same time. It was so Johnny. To know how to burn your world and then repair it. 

We'll meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when. But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.

You looked up at the ceiling, falling back until your legs needed to stretch out in front of you. Tears collected in your ducts, making your vision turn wobbly. Your nose filled with congestion as you listened to the song. 

Are you with me, Johnny?

You had a deep-rooted feeling he was.

[drdemonprince]

I was writing this when I saw your most recent substack post on sexuality, so please forgive if I'm not super coherent.

As someone who has been living in a country without much, if any, real legal protections for most of my time as an out trans person, that while I understand the fear right now is high it was not until a few years ago that we did not exist at all in the public consciousness. That terrible prison show was the first time a trans woman appeared in a not "haha look at the gross tranny" way, and that was maybe 10 years ago. Non-binary people existence is even more recent. While I get having a bunch of religious fanatics hate you sucks, from what I gathered despite some claiming otherwise, the rest of the people don't really care that much. It's an issue that gets blown up by the media because it's nice and controversial which gets ratings (or these days, clicks/views), and, as a made-up problem, allows politicians to appear strong and decisive. (Also, there being lots of local differences and court stuff I can't even begin to understand influencing this because your country is very confusing.) It's hard for me to properly measure what people claim and what is actually true.

Come what comes, but there's a difference between preparing for the worst and assuming it already happens. This is going to sound callous, but people need to remember that as much as it sucks to stuck in survival mode and not being able to get government documents corrected, they probably have the grit deep-down to get through this. Maybe it's easy for me to talk, I used to work in building when I was on hormones, didn't tell anyone in that setting, and just shrugged it off and cherished the time I spent with friends & supportive people who knew me as *me*, and lied through my teeth whenever it was necessary and off from being assaulted a few times (not work related, school days) without major injuries because I was good at getting the fuck out. Then again, I've had a therapist tell me I'm scary good at compartmentalizing, so take that as you will.

Now we finally get to why that post about sexuality prompted all this. The bit about the trans woman finally being able to relax when dommed... That struck a nerve, which is strange because I don't really have much sex-drive, but that kind of softness is not something I've had in my life much. Always in the role of taking care and looking after others, never being on the receiving end, not just emotionally, but sexually also because oh dear is it an ordeal when people project the trans dommy mommy shit on you. Especially as now, 8 years after the first go around I find myself being the calm and collected one supporting others again and it's not even a conscious act on my or their behalf, despite setting boundaries (and having them respected mainly) I somehow got the invisible label of "mom who got her shit together" (as if) when I too would sometimes like to unwind and get fucked properly into the next timezone.

thank you for your message. I hope that a lot of younger or less seasoned American trans people who are freaking the fuck out right now are able to put some of their own understandable stress activation aside to read it and really take it in. also, it's a real bummer when people lean on you to always be the strong and capable one. and it is miserable how this role gets voiced upon us simply by virtue of having endured a great deal, or having grown a little bit older than some other people. obviously in your case this dynamic is far more deeply entrenched because of misogyny and transmisogyny and how that shapes people's expectations of the labor that women provide to them, especially trans women, but I do understand a little bit of how miserable it feels to be shunted into that kind of role. and I hope that somebody really just pounds you into the mattress or gives you whatever kind of sexual attention and care-taking helps you feel weak and needy and okay and like somebody else has it all together for a while sometime soon.

[shuaboo]

i usually don’t write on this account but heres some of my little takes on bf!gyuvin 🥹

lowercase intended // cw: fluff, sfw, i think these r called hcs idk, non-idol au so the members are just referred to as his friends, kind of all over the place and unorganized, sorry if this is bad im new to this, shitty writing because i’m seriously not a writer at all. 😭

bf!gyuvin who treats you like a princess and is literally the winner of the kindest cutest boyfriend award every single year 🥹✋🏻

no, seriously. i feel like his language is acts of service and he would absolutely do anything for you if it is in his capabilities.

gyuvin carries a bigger sized bag so you can carry your little purse that barely fits your phone and lip gloss. he also keeps a hair tie on his wrist or has a hair claw on the strap just incase you need one while you’re on a food date together.

when you get tired from walking and your feet start to hurt from your shoes, gyuvin will guide you (maybe even carry you) by the waist so you don’t struggle as much. probably also keeps comfortable shoes for you in his car since he doesn’t expect that this is the last time it will happen.

speaking of shoes, gyuvin is constantly checking your shoelaces. when he sees that they have gone undone he’ll stop you from walking and tie them up for you.

gyuvin who always holds your hand or has a hand on your waist when you’re in a crowded place, because the last thing he’d want is to lose you.

if you and gyuvin do lose each other in a crowded space, he would definitely panic and look around for you. he’d give you a call asking where you are in the most panicked tone. you’d have to calm him down and tell him that you see him, since he’s so tall that he practically towers over everyone else in the area. god bless this man ☹️

whenever you and gyuvin get food, he always asks if you want to try some of what he ordered. he’s such a sweetheart, kindly asking you and then feeding you his food if you agree to try some. i also firmly believe that if the food is still hot, gyuvin will blow on the food so you don’t burn yourself when you take a bite.

gyuvin who always brags about you to his friends. he really can’t help it, he’s so happy to have you that he always yaps about you and your dates to his friends. they tease him simply for being a man in love and beg him to let them meet you :).

when you do meet gyuvin’s friends, it legitimately might be the funniest day of your life, and maybe the worst day for gyuvin. they tell you about some of his embarrassing moments, and you all have a good laugh about it.

…except for gyuvin. he’s beside you 100% pouting and sulking at the reminder of his embarrassing mistakes in the past. oh, plz keep your attention on him as well ! ! ! he might start feeling a bit left out if you have too much fun with his friends. make sure that he’s comfortable and that he’s still smiling. you don’t want to end up with a sulky, jealous, sad boyfriend :’c. give him a peck on the cheek and squeeze his hand so that he smiles again :].

gyuvin who whines about how embarrassing it was that his friends exposed him to you while walking you home hand in hand, and you just laugh at his whining. hes secretly smiling to himself because he made you laugh, even if it kinda cost him his dignity. but hey, at least you’re laughing and you’re happy.

gyuvin who kisses you on the forehead, cheek, and lips and gives you a tight hug when you reach your home before leaving you.

gyuvin who facetimes you as soon as hes a few meters away from your house because he already misses you.

bf!gyuvin who is your constant reminder that pure and true love does exist.

sorry it became kind of a scenario at the end lol, this is also like way too long HAHAHHAHA😅😭

pls lmk if this is ok😭😭 i had a lot of fun writing this and i would love to write more

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

What Writing Taught Me About Dealing With Grief

Grief isn’t poetic. It doesn’t arrive in neat metaphors or with a sorrowful violin humming in the background. It crashes in like an avalanche, sudden and all-consuming, stripping everything bare, leaving behind a silence so loud it drowns out the rest of the world.

For a long time, I avoided confronting my grief. I buried it beneath distractions, hoping that by creating a distance between myself and the weight of my emotions, I could suffocate it beneath the noise. However, grief doesn’t remain buried; it waits, lingering in the pause between breaths and the hollow feeling of a familiar place missing a familiar presence. It transforms absence into something alive, something with teeth. Writing didn’t exactly "rescue me;" it didn't dissolve that ache or provide closure in some revelatory conclusion...

It simply offered me a means to confront my grief on my own terms, allowing me to express all the words I had suppressed and lay them out openly. Writing enabled me to say, “Not today,” and on some days, that was enough.

Grief Demands to Be Heard

Now if you don't know, grief isn’t a patient process. It doesn’t fade away like some old wound; it shatters your world, breaks you down, and intrudes abruptly into the midst of our 'carefully constructed' lives. It never cares about the timing or whether you have things to attend, responsibilities to fulfill, or if you believe you’ve already found peace with it.

I spent years trying to drown out the pain by filling my days with the usual suspects; trying to numb the edges with distractions, hoping that if I kept moving fast enough, it wouldn’t catch up. However, writing forced me to come to a halt. People often talk about “processing” grief as if it’s a tidy, linear process, like filing paperwork in a system designed to manage emotions effectively. But writing grief is not like that. It’s not some elegant unraveling of pain that leads to understanding. Instead, it’s more like sitting across from it at a table, staring into something vast and untamed, and asking, “What do you want from me?”

Writing doesn’t diminish grief or soften its sharpness. However, it provides it with a tangible form—something I can grasp, scrutinize, and illuminate. And occasionally, making it visible becomes sufficient to prevent it from consuming me entirely.

You Can’t Control Grief—Or the Words

Grief is a spectrum of unpredictable, unstructured emotions that forgo common simplifications. This isn't about refining chaos; it’s about giving it a space to exist beyond your own mind. If you don’t allow it to do so, it will continue to grow and consume you. And the worst part? Grief does these things in a way that mirror your own; it's when I put those words on the page, I regain some of my power. I can see grief for what it really is—distorted reflections of my pain, not my reality.

Which is why through my characters, I hope to challenge this idea. I wanna write individuals who have been shattered yet rise above their struggles. I want to portray people who grieve, rage, and fall apart, yet they endure and don’t succumb to the overwhelming weight of their sorrow. By writing about their survival, I hope to find solace in remembering my own resilience.

Writing about your grief is an act of defiance. It's standing in the aftermath of something intended to shatter you and asserting, “I am still here.” Serving as a testament that grief does not have the final say in the narrative’s conclusion.

Grief lies, but writing tells my truth.

There’s No Moving On—Only Moving Forward

No one ever tells you that closure is a myth. It’s a comforting notion people utter to make grief appear manageable, a concept with a clear beginning and end. However, grief doesn’t simply fade away. It doesn’t transform into a faint echo in the distance. Instead, it undergoes transformations, adopting new forms, yet it never truly vanishes. This realization has taught me that the objective isn’t to “move on.” Instead, it’s to keep moving forward.

Grief isn’t a temporary phase; it’s a lasting chapter that shapes the rest of your life. You don’t simply leave it behind; you learn to carry it with you. And that’s not a sign of failure; it’s a testament to survival. Writing gives the weight of my grief a purpose. It transforms what would otherwise feel heavy, directionless, and overwhelming into something tangible. It doesn’t erase the loss, but it transforms it into something that doesn’t merely hold me back; it propels me forward.

A Letter to Grief

If you’ve never done it, try writing a letter to your grief. Not the polite kind, but the raw and unfiltered one. Express your anger, your exhaustion, and your sorrow. Even acknowledge the reluctant gratitude, even though you don’t want to. Because here’s the truth: grief doesn’t get to dictate the outcome. You do.

Writing Is Defiance

Grief is relentless. It seeps into the spaces left behind, into the places where something once was, and it dares you to believe there is nothing left worth salvaging. But every time you write, you push back. You reclaim a part of yourself from the silence. Writing about grief isn’t about solving it.

It’s about revealing what’s real—that grief will be quite unbearable, yet within that, it's still survivable. That it's something you carry, not something that defines you. Writing itself didn’t heal me, no, but it gave me clarity. It reminded me that even in thosr moments when your grief is the loudest thing in the room; there is impact amongst our encounters as human and we're left to express what our predecessors couldn't say.

So write your grief. Let it be raw, untamed, unfiltered. Spill it onto the page without worrying about making it neat. And when you’re done, step back and remember this: You are still here. You are still standing. Grief doesn’t get to take over you.

[luizd3ad]

Heyyyyyy :D :D

May I pleaseeeee request ploy!bartylus (that's probably spelt wrong) x reader? (Gn if that's okay!!!!) Like maybe reader it's supper into true crime or something similar but is a little over confident and a little stupid and keeps like kinda-ish-maybe accidently or not accidently seeking out active murders and not telling the boys before they go and like almost die now and then. or something. like anything is fine, I love ur writing so much ur so cool and amazing and thank you for existing please go drink water and have a lil snack that makes u happy and like don't eat a butterfly and idk ur very cool I hope you've had a great week and a good hair day and okay bye bye now um

I Was Just Curious... | Bartylus X Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr x Regulus Black x GN! Reader WC: 1,623 CW: Talks of injury, being stabbed, blood loss, serial killers, murders, crime, police, swearing, polyamorous relationships. Author's Note: Omg, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out I've just been so busy lately thank you so much for the request and I hope you like it <3

ALSO HAPPY FUCKING SPOOKY SEASON EVERYONE!!!!

Summary: You cant help that you're curious...

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You were always so surprised that it took muggle police so long to figure out the identities and the patterns of the killers they were investigating. 

Honestly it didn't even feel like they were actually trying half the time.

It normally only took you about two days to figure out the identities of the people who were committing these crimes.

Admittedly you did have your magic and what not so that probably did give you what some might consider an ‘unfair’ advantage to the muggle police but that's besides the point.

The point was you liked finding out who these people were, you liked reading what crimes they had committed, obviously not to idolize them but because you were just simply curious. 

You were curious as to the why’s and what’s.

Why did they do it? Why those specific people? What drove them to this point? Ect. Ect.

So when you figured out that you could use your magic to find these people, that you could find out who they were. You perhaps got a little too excited. 

But who could blame you?

You finally had the chance to have answers to the questions that would flood your mind when you read about the heinous and disgusting acts that they would commit. 

So you would find them, confront them. Ask them the questions that would practically drive you mad and then turn them in. 

Was it the smartest thing in the world to confront murders and serial killers?

Absolutely not. Not in the slightest.

And your friends and boyfriends would tell how absolutely idiotic it was as often as they could. How they absolutely hated the fact that you were now putting yourself in danger in the name of curiosity.

The thing that bothered your boyfriends the most was that you would never tell anyone when you were going on your little ‘suicide missions’ as Barty called them. You would just leave, disappear without a word.

Now most of the time you would come home completely fine once in a while you came home with cuts and bruises, that would absolutely stress Regulus and Barty out to no end, but you never came hurt genuinely injured.

That was until today.

You had confronted a particularly nasty man. He was the worst of the worst at this point. 

He didn't appreciate being found out and he had no problem expressing that when he made the choice to come at you with a knife.

Now here you were stumbling into your dark and empty flat that you share with Barty and Regulus clutching to your side as the crimson sticky liquid seeped through your shirt coating your hand.

You had lost a decent amount of blood so you started to feel quite weak and dizzy already, apparating home probably was not the best choice in keeping your strength, but I digress.

You stumbled through the door clutching at your side bumping into the wall knocking over a picture frame glass shattering on the floor. You felt dizzy, weak and Merlin did it hurt like hell.

You were leaning against the wall for support, looking paler by the second slowly losing consciousness as you slowly sunk to the floor as the world around you started to fade into black. 

Eventually you had woken up to the sun spilling through the windows your eyes opening to see a white ceiling, the sun only making the white seem brighter. You couldn't help but close your eyes once again or the small wince that fell from your lips at the sudden brightens.

“Oh thank Salazar you're awake.”

You didn't have to look to know it was Regulus as he whispered; he sounded so relieved, so worried and so so exhausted.

You turned your head and opened your eyes meeting the sight of your normally stoic and well put together lover. 

Next to him was a sleeping Barty, he was curled up on a chair, his position looking beyond uncomfortable.

They both looked like hell.

They looked exhausted.

“Reg… Where…?”

You tried to speak but your throat hurt feeling so dry.

“Here, drink first.” Regulus helped you sit up slowly. 

You had felt a slight dull pain in your side where you had been stabbed. You watched as Regulus poured you a glass of water now realizing just how thirsty you were.

You gladly accepted the glass taking a long drink trying to help soothe your aching throat.

“We’re in St Mungo's, you've been passed out for over a day. Barty and I came home to find you bleeding on the floor… Y/N what in Merlin's name happened?” You had never heard Regulus sound so worried and concerned.

“I- I went to look for the man who's been killing people in London… he got upset that I knew it was him. He came after me…”

Your voice trailed off. You knew Regulus would be upset. He and Barty had told you countless times that you needed to stop but of course you never listened.

The sigh that left Regulus’ lips could only be described as disappointed and frustrated. 

“Why? Why do you constantly do this?! We could have lost you Y/N!”

It was rare that Regulus yelled or shouted but he had never yelled at you up until this point.

His yelling had woken Barty up to the sight of a very pissed Regulus and you looking down like a scolded child.

“Oh thank Merlin you're awake, angel.” 

Barty took no time to be at your side, completely ignoring Regulus and his scolding look. 

Barty tilled your chin up with his fingers kissing the tip of your nose and then your lips softly, he then looked into your eyes with so much love and relief that you almost forgot how mad Regulus was.

“Are you okay? How are you feeling? How's your pain? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine Barty, just a little pain. I’m fine I promise.”

Yours and Bartys attention was pulled away from each other when you heard a small scoff come from Regulus.

“Alright, Black. What's crawled up your ass? Our angel is awake and fine. You should be grateful that they're okay.” 

Barty turned and looked at Regulus with a glare. He was clearly getting upset with what he considered Regulus’s ‘unnecessary and bitchy’ attitude. 

“Why don't you ask them how they got hurt in the first place?” Regulus’ jaw was clenched a little, not bothering to hide his irritation. 

Barty looked back at you a little hesitant and confused (something that was very unBarty-like) he then looked at you with raised eyebrows waiting for you to say something.

You were visibly hesitant and nervous.

“Go on. Tell him Y/N.” Regulus countied not trying to hide that he was still very pissed.

“I went to confront the man who has been murdering people in London. He attacked me.”

“Oh for fucks sake…” Barty mumbled running a hand through his hair. “We told you to stop doing that, Y/N.”

“I know, I know and I'm sorry I- I couldn't help it. I'm just so curious…”

“We understand that but your curiosity isn't worth your life… we can't lose you.” 

When you looked up at Regulus as he spoke the last thing you expected to see was the tears brimming in his eyes. 

That only made you feel worse. 

To see one of the loves of your life with tears in his eyes killed a part of you.

“You can't do this anymore, angel. I had never been so bloody scared in my life. Walking in our home and seeing your lifeless body… I can't ever go through that again. We can't ever go through that again.”

Barty’s words pulled your attention away from Regulus for a moment, your actions finally dawning on you.

You had been stupid. So fucking stupid. You felt terrible.

“I’m sorry. Truly. I won't do it anymore. I'll find another way to cure my curiosity. I- I didn't mean for it all to go this far… to worry you both so much. I feel terrible.”

“I'm not going to say that it's fine because it's not, but we understand. We just can't stand the idea of something happening to you. You mean everything to us. It would ruin us if something happened to you. It's supposed to be the three of us. Forever.”

Barty sat on the hospital bed next to you, his hand resting on yours as he looked at you with love and concern swimming in his eyes. “Regs right, angel. You have to stop these little suicide missions. If me and Reg were only a few more minutes late, who knows what would have happened.”

“You're both right. I'm done. Honest.”

“That's all we ask, amour. We love you too much to see something happen to you.” Regulus sat on the other side of you putting your hand in his and kissing your hand softly, his anger and frustration from before forgotten.

“I love you both so much…”

You whispered as the exhaustion from your body healing and the high amount of emotions caught up to you, slowly you started to fall asleep. 

The last thing you felt and heard before sleep consumed you was Barty crawling up next to you wrapping you in his arms and then the soft sound of Regulus chuckling.

You always knew you were lucky. That you were lucky beyond belief.

You had amazing friends and two amazing partners that meant the world to you.

In that moment you had realized that your questions would just have to remain unanswered. That being here with them was so much more important than any answer to any question you could ever have.

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[nerfherder-02]

Idk it's crazy to me the amount of people I see that are like "oh Andor is the reason I got into Star Wars." Like, that's very much well and good, welcome aboard, but the issue I take is when some of those people then proceed to act like the entirety of the rest of canon is childish and tedious and Andor is "real adult media."

First of all, Andor wouldn't exist without the rest of Star Wars being done in the first place. Second of all, Star Wars has always been about the conflict between fascism and freedom, good and evil, at its core. Let's not pretend that George Lucas didn't write A New Hope with anti-Vietnam-war sentiments and then the prequels based on anti-90s-2000s-warmongering attitudes. Let's not forget that the very main character of the first six movies is a commentary on how easy it is to fall into harmful rhetoric that drives you to commit atrocities. Sure, say what you will about the man himself and how well he executed filmmaking, but why are we so eager to divorce Andor from the rest of Star Wars?

Additionally, echoing the sentiments I've read on this site numerous times since the conclusion of season 2, I also don't believe season 2 fulfilled its mandate of being a piece of Star Wars derivative media as it failed to mesh cohesively with Rogue One, and fell on tired tropes propped up by some political monologuing. I do see how there was potential if the series had truly gone for a full five+ seasons as they had the material to do so, but as it stands, season 2 is not some pinnacle of modern filmmaking. Its attempts at characterization are inconsistent at best and contradictory to the rest of canon at worst, while its themes and messaging are betrayed by its weak portrayal of female characters.

All this to say I don't think Andor is bad, even season 2 is not bad in comparison with some of the bland, utterly frustrating attempts at writing we've gotten over the past few years. But I guess I'm a little put off by the popular notion that Andor somehow rises above the media it was derived from. If you needed Andor to like Star Wars, then it's possible that you never really understood Star Wars? At the risk of promoting Star Wars too much when it is arguably weak in a number of ways, I truly believe that Andor simply supports the thesis the Star Wars has always advanced; it did not somehow revolutionize the franchise.

Thank you for reading my soapbox! Again, there's a lot more nuance to be had here, but these are some of my basic thoughts to chime into the conversation that's already been had. Just wanted my opinion out there as a long-time Star Wars fanatic.

[pseudowho]

Random question, during any of your pregnancy’s were you ever insecure about you body, how you were acting, or any of your cravings?

Me and my fiancé were talking about plans for future kids and i’m to scared to ask anyone else. could you give me a small run through of things to expect?

Thank you so much!!

Hey! I'll answer this both as a woman who has done pregnancy and birth three times, and as an experienced midwife. I don't like the 'horror story' sharing that many women do around pregnancy; it muddies the waters, and is supremely anxiety-inducing for anyone who is pregnant while hearing it.

You need to know I could write, and have written, essays on this.

As a midwife: Pregnancy is this period of unique physiological change in your body and mind, that even when it is normal (i.e. normal symptoms, not a sign of an unwell pregnancy) can be profound and lifelong.

These normal symptoms, including but not limited to nausea and vomiting (commonly referred to as morning sickness, though present at any time of day), weight gain, swelling, congestion, mood changes, appetite changes, stretch marks, heartburn and hip/joint pain, can range from barely present/absent, to severe.

Even severe pregnancy symptoms aren't always considered abnormal unless they're making you unwell (i.e. unable to keep any food or water down).

These symptoms can be altered by many of your pre-existing conditions; your weight and general health, your lifestyle and eating habits, your exercise habits, simple dumb luck/genetics, family history, mental health and body image/dysmorphia, etc.

So in that respect, in a normal pregnancy, I have seen some women who are extremely insecure and struggling to cope with the changes to their body and mind, and some women who absolutely breeze through it like pregnancy hasn't even affected them. Nowhere on this spectrum does it ever surprise me.

So now I'll talk about the average first pregnancy. As I said...the experience varies wildly.

Early on in your pregnancy (up to about 12 weeks) often feels like you're in an utter no-man's land. You feel like healthcare professionals aren't wildly interested in you; they'll take your history and 'book' your pregnancy in from (now this is based on the UK) about 8 weeks pregnancy (please note, your 'weeks of pregnancy' aren't calculated from the moment you fall pregnant, it is calculated from the first day of your last period, so in a woman with a regular 28-30 day cycle, there usually feels like there's a 'disparity' of about 2 weeks in your dates-- there isn't, this is how we calculate it). You may have an early scan or two. Essentially, we wait to see if the pregnancy is continuing; lots of miscarriages happen in the first 8 weeks. About 1/3 of pregnancies will miscarry here, in fact.

Tiredness is real at this stage. You may feel like you want to sleep constantly. It's shit that at this stage you often feel the worst, but feel like you're also just being expected to 'get on with it'. Please ask for help. If your partner isn't an equal partner pre-pregnancy, best of luck to you. You may feel utterly useless sometimes days from exhaustion, and this is normal I'm afraid.

Mid pregnancy drags, but you're usually starting to feel a bit better. The top of your uterus doesn't even begin to rise out of your pelvic brim until about 16 weeks, and the lower part of the uterus only begins to expand and form (creating that 'pregnant' belly look) from about 28 weeks, so don't try to force a bump that simply isn't there. Lots of women are very keen to look pregnant. Just chill. It's okay if you dont. Take it easy.

You do not need to eat for two; your pregnancy uses your intake more effectively when you're pregnant. Do take pregnancy specific multivitamins though. They don't need to be expensive or fancy ones; normal store bought are generally just the same, without all the fancy packaging.

Later pregnancy (the third trimester, 28 weeks onwards), you will likely notice that tiredness creeping in again. This is where your baby is largely formed structurally, and is maturing and gaining size and weight. Please ignore any and all comments from people who look at you and announce that you will have a big/small baby. They're idiots and likely wrong. Laugh it off. Here is where you may start to notice things like heartburn, hip pain, mood changes coming back again. You're heavy, and it's harder to move, and your organs are moving out of the way to facilitate a baby. Cut yourself some slack if at all possible.

So...now to me and what I had.

As Haitch: (tw/cw: suicidal ideations) So it's now a running joke, that my body was so 'good' at pregnancy, so utterly flooded with hormones, that while I became this perfect machine for growing and birthing babies, pregnancy broke me.

I spent every waking minute of the first 16 weeks nauseous and exhausted, bone deep exhausted. I had all the usual symptoms hit hard and early. I suffered severe pelvic separation, agonising pain, and @mrhaitch had to help me up from an early stage.

Thankfully, he was exquisite pregnancy support. Full is based on him, after all.

I ended up on some pretty strong medication for my heartburn, as it was severe enough that my stomach acid was damaging my vocal chords.

Worst of all was my mental health. From 26-28 weeks, your progesterone levels boom. This is normal. But this is where we discovered that progesterone is a very bad hormone for me. I developed severe antenatal depression and anxiety, and antenatal psychosis. I was paranoid, delusional, fragile and had active suicidal ideations. I had plans on how I would end my life. This is all utterly unlike me.

With my first pregnancy, our son was born at 42 weeks after a fast, normal labour, but I don't know how I didn't end my own life towards the end of my pregnancy. With my second two, we were more on it, and my lovely colleagues induced my labours from 38 weeks, purely because my mental health was so bad.

I was watched like a hawk in pregnancy 3. We knew I would lose my mind...and sadly, I did. I was medicated but It did little to help. It was at that point (October/November 2024) that I began writing on Tumblr...and here I am.

So as I have said...lots of things you could expect.

To this day in my 13 year Midwifery career, I have seen fewer than 10 women whose mental health was affected as badly my pregnancy as mine was. So I wouldn't worry too much about that.

Phew. If you have any more specific questions, I would be happy to answer.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx