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

[xanthera]

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

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

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

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

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

[hellyeahsickaf]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[billyharringson]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the florist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ponuchuu]

Where is my daily serving of puppetgear lore Nick, I'm HUNGRY

WHAT IS THERE TO GIVE U THEY'VE BEEN SOFT IN MY MIND SHAKES THEM DO SOEMTHINGGGG--

OK BUT i can rant to you about this idea i have about niko being sick

I've mentioned in this post that Scarborough Fair is one of the song that Niko treasured most, if not THE most because it was one of the fondest things he have out of the hellhole that was THOTH so it's a melody he often repeat in any situation (that is not insomnia btw) that are emotionally heavy for him, such as anxiety, panic attacks, socially overwhelming situations so I often think about him humming the tune quietly to himself at night whenever he's particularly anxious and Wanderer just so happens to hear it while going out at night. It's sort of like a core memory for Wanderer, he never brought it up, he never even questioned it but the melody stayed in his mind because Niko is associated with it.

Now imagine if there's a day Niko get sick, Niko being sick is extremely rare, his immune system is very strong and he recovers exceptionally fast so when there are days where he gets a very bad fever, it made him anxious and jumpy cause he needs to do something or he'll end up laying there, stuck with his thoughts and lamenting over how worthless he is if he doesn’t do anything-- This is a problem that had happened before in the Fortress, Sigewinne has to constantly keep watch of him in case he sits up and do anything reckless, heck even Wrio has to tell him to lay back down and take turns to watch over him if Sigewinne is busy with other patients.

Of course since Niko is in Sumeru now, he doesn't have a lot of people that can look out for him except Mekal and Aarush (Aarush tried to ask for a day off but Niko assured him he's fine) so often than not he WILL find a way to do something and even sneaked out when Mekal was out in the market, but the Sumeru heat is harsh so it's not really a surprise he fainted in mid climbing, making all of his Meka shut down as he feels the fall below him, not able to open his eyes and waiting for his inevitable death....

... Only to wake up to a VERY angry Mekal, getting scolded left and right on how he could seriously have gotten hurt if it weren't for "that big-hatted, flying gentleman over there" while serving the exact tea said 'big-hatted, flying gentleman over there' liked (the only reason Mekal knows is because Niko bitched and complained a lot abt how bitter the tea was) on the table as he clicked his tongue and sit down on the left over space on the couch away from Niko's current resting head.

The moment Mekal turned away and back to the kitchen is when Niko tried to sit up again but was immediately get layed back down by Wanderer, who's at this point wasn't even trying to hide his anger at him cause-

"Fucking hell, if I didn't get there in time what do you think could have happened ?! Wretched being, your body is weak and it's going to break, you could've-" but he cut himself off at the last point, opting to tell Niko to take a rest now or he'll make sure both Aarush and Wrio knows about his little stunt today. As angry as it made him, Niko really doesn't have energy to fight back as he just grumble and lie back down with his face facing the back of the couch, no wanting to look at Wanderer at that moment.

The first few minutes weren't bad but as Niko lay on the couch with nothing to do and his mind free to wander through, he started to get anxious again, work usually takes his mind off of his rather degrading thoughts but now that he has no choice to work he had to lay there with his thoughts running, sleeping to him isn't easy either and even the loud noises in the kitchen isn't enough to drown out the thoughts. It isn't obvious then to him but he was hyperventilating, his breathing was starting to become ragged but by now his mind was already somewhere.

The change didn't go unnoticed by Wanderer, it's something he figured would happen because he had never seen Niko without doing his work or without something to distract himself from- then it suddenly hit him, that song he had heard Niko humming to himself before-- could it be...?

Without even a second thought, Wanderer turn Niko's head to the side before place his palm gently on his forehead-- cringing a bit at how much cold sweat there are but the barely noticeable tear line falling down from Niko's cheek that managed to escape out of the arm that was covering his eyes right now-- made him forget all about it as he begins to quietly sing the melody that Niko is so fond of.

The sudden music made Niko breathing stop for a second, taking in the melody as his breathing started to calm down, solely letting his focus back on the sound that was coming from above him. The sing voice was unfamiliar so Niko knows it wasn't from him and Mekal's voice is a little more robotic than the smooth sound that was singing right now. The realized was immidiate and by the time he realized, his breathing was stable again as all he can focus on was the lyrics of his childhood song.

A few second of silent passed after the singing stop before a small chuckle broke out, Niko can't help himself from laughing-- not because it was funny, but because he didn't expect to hear Wanderer at all. When he stopped laughing, Niko removed his arm and look up at Wanderer, his eyes tinted with something indescribable before going through on how the melody was off and that he got some of the lyrics was incorrect before proceed to sing it himself to demonstrate where he was wrong, Wanderer didn't even snap back or retort as he can see Niko was singing the song to himself as his voice was getting quieter before drifting off to sleep, a smile on his face as he finally get his sleep after 2 days...

I ENDED UP WRITING SO MUCH BUT EBFJEJFJDJDJFJEJF they got me acting silly oops tee hee twirl hair

[neodiji]

Life Update

SO. Hi.

I am alive. I am in a better spot than the last time I posted, around two years ago. It was really dark for awhile there but I think I needed to take time and work on myself. I have a fabulous therapist now that has actually been helping me grow and tackle life, and I feel in some ways like a different person after navigating these past couple years. I am still prone to the major depressive spells, panic attacks, and crippling anxiety, but I am learning that even though mental health problems will probably always be a part of my life, they don't define me. I can do hard things, and I can accomplish goals even with those challenges. Sometimes, especially in those really bottom-of-the-pit days like a couple years ago, I just didn't see a path forward so I didn't know what steps to even try to take. Now I'm taking steps. They might not be the right steps, but trying is doing.

I truly appreciate all the support and outreach of love. I am also sorry for worrying people, considering the way I left things. I didn't handle my feelings and needs in a mature way. I definitely needed that break, but I should have just communicated that I needed a break. At the time, I really didn't think I could make it, but that's no one else's problem. It was and is for me to own.

I have not been active in fandom for the past couple years, but lately I have been indulging in some SuzaLulu daydreams. I'm also rediscovering my love of writing.

Highlights:

-I survived an entire year teaching at a horrific private school. When they hired me, they verbally told me that they were starting a new program and needed a teacher. They would provide the resources and guidance. It turned out that they gave me a classroom with a few blocks, and two days before the kids come, they told me that it was up to me to fund the entire new program out-of-pocket. I should have quit then and there, but I didn't know how to assert myself or set boundaries. I was also paid pennies. So because I had given them my word and signed the contract for the job, I funded everything out of pocket. I let them take advantage of me. I literally paid to work instead of the other way around. Every day was a nightmare, trying to spend all day with my class of kids and then come home and figure out what to even DO with them the following day, buy or create the resources to actually implement those learning activities (thank goodness for Teachers Pay Teachers), rinse and repeat. Admin always promised to reimburse me, and kept canceling my requested meetings to address these issues. Spoiler alert: they never did pay me back for all the things I bought to get that classroom and program up and running. So, you know...I can look back on this experience and say I was screwed, but alternatively:

I got to practice getting stronger in asserting myself and communicating. I learned how to get things in writing for future jobs so this never happened again. I gained experience working in a different kind of school setting. I met a lot of nice people, such as the other teachers and the families of the kids in my class. I also learned that I could not only survive, but do really good things in bad circumstances. I helped my kids learn and grow, and all but one of them were reading above grade level by the time they left me. So I took a classroom with nothing and I fucking rocked it.

Better yet, BECAUSE I had that major accomplishment under my belt, I was able to find a much, much, MUCH better teaching job in the public schools this past year (in a good school district). I have never before worked at a school I loved. I have never before worked for admin who actually care about teachers and students. I have never before met other teachers who genuinely love kids and want to do right by them. I found my place. I found my people. It makes all the difference.

This past year was hard because I was yet again learning a new grade level. Starting over in a new grade can feel like switching to an entirely new field. The standards of learning are different, the resources are different, the kids' social-emotional needs and maturity are different... So there's always a steep learning curve. But this past year? It was hard and draining and time-consuming but I loved. every. second. I couldn't wait to get back to my class and pick up where we'd left off the day before.

I also learned that I need to be helping kids learn and grow to feel fulfilled inside. When that's missing, when I don't have that built into my life, I feel like something vital is missing. I especially thrive with teaching reading. Again, all but one of my students was reading on or above grade level by the end of the year. More important, they LOVED reading. The one who was reading below grade level made significant personal progress, and he was very close to meeting benchmark. I'm on the right track now to one day be a reading specialist, which was my original dream job. My life is opening up again. It only took several years!

I also learned it is very very likely that I have high-functioning Autism, which would explain why communication, relationships, and social cues are such a personal struggle. (Along with hyperfixations, sensory processing disorders, etc.) Paying for yet additional testing for an official diagnosis is not in my current budget, but it does make sense when I reflect on the trends of my life. So I am learning more about myself and how I fit into the world, instead of just knowing deep inside that I feel different and thus feeling despair to the point of giving up because life feels like an insurmountable struggle sometimes.

So yeah. Maybe I need help with things because my way of interacting with the world is atypical, but even so...I still have a lot of things to be proud of about myself. I may struggle with peer communication, but I am an awesome teacher. I might need basic socialization explained to me, but I tend to be kind, helpful, and encouraging when I do have two-way interaction with people. There are worse things to be.

I also have grown a lot as a writer over the years. I have not had time to indulge in hobbies the past couple of years, due to every "free" moment being spent trying to prepare for the next school day, but when I think about what would make me happy? For me? It keeps coming back to writing. But now it has to change. To keep it fun, I can't put the pressure of perfectionism on myself. I'm not getting paid to write fanfic. It doesn't need to be perfect. I think readers are going to be okay if I end up making mistakes. If readers do take issue, then you know what? That's their problem. They can stay out of my work. That's their choice. But honestly, the majority of people I've interacted with online have tended to be lovely and encouraging anyway, so... I probably don't need to worry about the what-if anxieties that continuously pop up in that regard.

TLDR;

-I am an amazing teacher and it helped me find myself.

-I probably have Autism, which would explain a lot.

-I can cope and I can do hard things, even with challenges.

-I miss writing.

Goals:

-Learn and practice setting appropriate boundaries.

-Increase financial literacy. Teachers get paid shit. I need to stretch my money more effectively. (And stop spending my own money on flexible seating...)

-Spend more time on self-care, including writing, friendships, and playing with my cat Nimbus.

-Sleep.

-Read those 4 professional development books.

-Reply to fandom people who have commented or otherwise communicated over the past couple years when I've been MIA.

[slowtides]

heyo discussion of panic attack and suicidal ideation

So last night, I had this really long and suspended panic attack that has honestly been bubbling for a while now. It's partly related to considering coming out to my dad and partly related to something else that I can't talk about. But it basically involved this fear that I have that trying to have a future is pointless and fruitless because of mistakes I've made in the past that won't go away.

And it's just been a while since I've had a panic attack I guess. Just the acid in my throat, the cramps in my stomach, the pain in my head, the breaths that wouldn't come. Like everything was swimming around me and I couldn't see past the feelings assaulting my body. It lasted off and on for hours. My hands would tremble and I would coach myself through a breathing exercise and calm down for a minute, and then I would think about it again and it was like a weight that had been lifted was pressing down on me again suddenly. I had been having some nuisance hallucinations and they were getting more and more present, like shadows always on the edge of my eyes. It was so scary and hard and just. paralyzing I guess.

So I started making plans like I always do when I have a panic attack. I won't repeat them, but it was really fucking scary and hard. I don't know. It's hard to write about it without going back into that space, so I won't do it.

And then I remembered that post about suicide that blogger mattfraction made a long time ago. He talked about a suicidal episode he had where he was actually like about to go through with it but remembered that there was a comic series he was reading that hadn't finished publishing, and he really wanted to find out all that happened in that story. And that was what took him out of that moment. He ended up shaving half his pubic hair vertically so every time he looked at his bits he would laugh, and I guess he's still around. I don't know anything about him other than this post that my best friend sent me ten years ago when I was just starting college.

And it's so silly, but it's not silly to me. There's this super long fanfiction that I'm reading. It's over 1.5 million words right now, and there are still at least 500k words of story left that the author hasn't published (they publish every week). And I realized that I really want to find out what happens in this fanfiction, probably more than I have wanted anything else in a really long time. It feels silly to have it written out, but this is a story that I've been reading for years, that brings me so much comfort, that makes me feel like there are things I can be curious about. It is more effective than any career goal or personal mile stone because those are tied up in all the ways I'm afraid to fail or struggle. Because it's just this selfless person giving the gift of their creativity and writing to the world where I can share it. And that's so fucking awesome that I just have to stick with it.

I reread mattfraction's post, and he talks about a friend of his who tried to commit suicide but realized as it happened that he didn't want to go, all because a Van Morrison song came on the radio. And I thought of all the music that I really want to listen to. He also made this long list of things that are small reasons, dust motes, to shake out of suicidal ideation, and none of it is family or friends. But one of them is "who the fuck will love your dog like you do when you're gone?" and I thought of my cat. Who the fuck will love my cat like I do when I'm gone?

Also one of my greatest fears is that I will die at home and be eaten by my cat, and that was the final straw. I started to compartmentalize my feelings and think about short and long term coping mechanisms and solutions, and I made it through the night without relapsing or anything. I slept until 5 pm but that's okay.

I guess what I'm saying is that life can become difficult without warning. And I have possibly become better at managing these feelings than I was when I was younger. And Maybe I should call a doctor or at least a friend.

[freezethebeez]

silly c!tubbo poem thing?

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

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

thingy thing below the break :)

-

it's been harder to tell the difference

between dreams and reality these days,

especially when everything's kinda of blurred

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

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

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

and the two fucking fireworks to my face,

what a fucking miracle that was.

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

just the three of us—

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

but the quiet evenings by the fire are pretty nice.

ranboo and michael like to make snow angels,

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

it feels safer there, and kind of warm.

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

good thing our bed is warm—

and how crazy is that?

not my bed but our bed—

as in ranboo and me sharing a bed.

but yeah, he's so warm at night.

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

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

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

i haven't washed up in a couple days,

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

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

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

fuck, that's right,

i was gonna talk the nightmares—

about the explosions in that little box.

i still get them lots, you know.

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

but for some reason my mind really likes that record.

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

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

it's really scary when it happens, because

it really feels like i'm there again.

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

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

those dreams make my face feel all hot and sticky,

and i feel so ill when i have them.

sometimes i get properly sick.

it's not very fun.

it was really not fun in the past.

tommy's told me all about it because

he was there when i first got them.

we both had panic attacks and that was awesome.

but yeah, he helped me and i helped him,

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

bully ranboo more when i first met him because

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

then tommy got them for a different reason,

but that's besides the point.

i still feel bad about that.

it makes my hands feel cold and sweaty.

the nightmares happen less now tho.

thank gods ranboo's still got me

when i wake up screaming.

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

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

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

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

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

sometimes michael wakes up, too,

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

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

so ranboo will lift him up into bed

and we'll all cuddle up together,

like we do by the fire,

and everything will be fine for once in my life.

i feel a bit bad sometimes—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

things'll blur together—

but things'll be good—

like when the cream mixes in with the tea

and the coffee.

i hope that i don't have to bury him

and he doesn't have to bury me—

not in snow, but in dirt;

i hope that we both go down together.

those fireworks took out more than just me—

they can take us both out, surely.

maybe i should call techno again—

or i could test out that new switch.

not now tho because ranboo's making soup

and i've gotta have that first.

his soup is so good and michael likes it too;

michael is a picky eater

i used to be a picky eater, too,

but i grew out of it.

i think i might be growing again—

but maybe in the way that the icicles that melt.

yeah, like the icicles.

it's so warm outside.

it's warm inside.

the snow is warm.

maybe we can play outside today

and make a snowman.

i've got some work to do.

i'll bury myself then after lunch.

okay, plans are set.

i'll see you then.

byebye!

[seamingleecomplex]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[whythewords]

Saddle up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So here we go.

Back in the saddle.

[agumonger]

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

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

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

7 How do you choose which POV to write from?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

37 How do you choose where to end a chapter?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[honeymoonjin]

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

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, panic attack

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

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile drops. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you dare.”

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ds-defunct-council]

Hey so I'm not going to answer the ask I got itself, but I do kind of want to make it clear: posts with Dr//eam//mare are going to have a "tw incest" in it REGARDLESS of what "kind" it is.

Reasoning under cut if for some reason you want it.

Dream and Nightmare, in Dreamtale - what Dreamswap and what Fatal Flaws and (very loosely) JMV and (alongside other things) IBVS is based on - are brothers, and no amount of trying to erase that will truly cover it up.

I'm tired of people mansplaining to me that "but in Dreamswap, Kai said they aren't brothers!!!" But you know, if you had made a warrior cats au with Firestar and Princess as lovers but made them not related it still kind of constitutes as incest since they are brother/sister in canon respectively. you can make Ron/Ginny as much as you want in whatever contexts you want but you can't entirely erase that it's incest in canon and some people WILL be uncomfortable with it Irregardless.

This is not a debate, I repeat, this is NOT a debate about proship vs antiship - I stand firmly in the middle. This is not a debate about the "morality" of shipping or enjoying problematic media or not. This IS a debate about personal boundaries and to stop fucking being an abusive fucking prick when someone doesn't like what you're doing.

Trying to tell people who are uncomfortable with things since as rape, incest, abuse, pedophilia - or whatever the fuck - that they "need to get over it", that they are "too sensitive", that "it's not REALLY x" is trying to sweep under the rug that it makes someone uncomfortable. That is ABUSIVE, GROOMING behavior. That is a tactic ABUSERS utilize to make you and keep you down. They break down your boundaries and walk all over you, and then act like the victim when you reaffirm those boundaries and get rightfully angry that they hurt you intentionally and reveled in harming you.

Multiple people have tried to "fix me" when it came to my trigger to incestuous ships - and on that note, Dr//eam//mare - all those people in and/or once in the fandom. Despite the fact I have been RAPED by my sister and my father, been violated by my father's employees and even had my mom edge psychological/sexual abuse when she threatened to keep me with my father that knew was and WOULD rape me over YEARS. YEARS.

The fact I have to tell people what my sexual trauma is, something I often don't want to do, for people to take me seriously on my OWN triggers, and even then, have my boundaries stomped all over is fucking INSANE.

And the fact that in this niche fandom this has happened MULTIPLE times to me? It says a lot. Who's to say it won't happen to you, as well? Forced to shake, scream and cry because some dumb shits decided that you need to be punished for not wanting to see D//ream//mare or whatever is bopping in shippin' sibs these days, and have those same people actively enjoying you suffering from it? That seeing a trans masc person be raped in an AU that screams "DEAD DOVE" like a Pantera album making you queasy and unwell is apparently more "problematic" than the actual thing itself?

Today has been one of those few-and-far-between good days in where I can actually write this without getting a panic attack wondering where sharp things are. Think that's too personal? Too bad. It's my life and the fact I'm trying to work out things to the best of my ability while not hampering everyone else's enjoyment of it is honestly far more generous than I ought to be. It's far too generous of me to continue using this blog considering almost all of the mods are assholes (chaos..?/chair..? in particular, but not dropping their @ since that's just icky. Seems others don't have that low of a standard though!)

But I'm getting on a tangent. Basically, all D//ream//mare will be tagged as "tw incest" from now on and if you think that's somehow wrong, then go fuck yourself.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜:

𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘

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

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟸𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟾𝟼 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟼'𝟷 𝙵𝚝

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𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙻𝚘𝚠

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

• 𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 .

•𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

•𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

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

•𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏- 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

It happened gradually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought it was cute, that he was cute.

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

Although shocked, Yunho was extremely happy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was the moment when hell started.

Yunho started becoming more and more clingy.

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

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

No other option. He insists.

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

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

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

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

He panicked at your hesitation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you love me? R-really?"

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

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

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

Biggest mistake you made.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How stupid you were.

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

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

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

You have a heart attack whenever that happens.

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

Then happy Yunho is back, as if nothing happened.

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

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

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

Always cums inside you, always. With no protection.

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

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

Which is what he wants.

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

And that's exactly what happened.

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

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

Which only prompted his obsessive nature to escalate.

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

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

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

He finally succeeded in bounding you two together for life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lauwrite1225]

Somebody to die for.

Finan x OC; The Old Guard inspired Alternative Universe

Summary : Victoria’s life is rather simple until she has a car accident from which she ends up miraculously unscathed. A series of weird events animates her daily life, everything seemingly bringing her to a strange man. Until this very man knocks at her door.

Spotify Playlist • Masterlist

A/N : Happy Finan Friday my friends! Alright it's still thursday to most of yall, but it isn't in France anymore and I was to excited to post to wait the morning lmaoo. I had so many good feedbacks on chapter one, you all can’t imagine how happy it made me! So as you noticed, I like to change the moodboard for each chapter, I hve fun making this ahah, I hope you all don’t mind!

Warnings : blood and death

Chapter 2 : There’s a truth and it’s on our side

Victoria blinks several times at the man standing right in front of her. Her eyes go down and up his body, analysing every inch of him and when she realizes he is wearing the same sweatshirt as the man in the bookshop, she’s panic-stricken. He doesn’t even have the time to say a word as she closes the door in his face and presses her back against it. Did this psychopath follow her to her home? She doesn’t see any other explanation, or maybe it’s just the one making the most sense. Because even if it's the guy from the bookshop, it doesn’t explain why he is the one she’s been dreaming of for a month now. Christ, things couldn’t get weirder. 

She gathers all the courage she has and shouts through the door. “Who the hell are you?”

She hears the man scoff, the sound attenuated by the door. “Ya wouldn’t trust me if I tell ya like this.” 

Her fingers nervously drum on her thigh. “Are you… Are you the “time traveller”?” This question would probably make her sound crazy, but a stranger knocking at your door after following you from your work place is undoubtedly crazier. The thought makes her realize that keeping talking to him maybe isn’t in fact the best idea, and as the man hesitates to answer, she looks around for her phone. 

“Hum… Yes kinda.” He replies and Vicky freezes. He doesn’t even deny, which confirms her assumption that he really is mad. “But I’m not really a time traveler.” 

Victoria frowns. “What do you mean?”

“That’s hard to explain to a door.” He jokes but Vicky doesn’t laugh, so he answers in a more neutral tone. “I think you and I are the same.”

“The same?” She repeats, her eyes finally falling on her phone. She walks aways from the door to take it from the table and leans against the door again. 

She starts to type the number of the police when he speaks. “It’s goin’ to sound really weird. But… I’ve seen ya in my dreams.” Victoria immediately pauses, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Her breath strangely accelerates as she considers his words.

“How can I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“Ya’ve been in a car accident. That’s the first dream I’ve got of ya.”

Victoria is breathless. She has spoken to no one about it, only giving lies, affirming her car has been stolen. She doesn’t know if his answer should reassure her or not, but she switches off her phone and slides it in her pocket before unlocking the door and opening it just slightly. “How do you know that?” She asks him, her voice between fear and curiosity. 

The man’s gaze is soft as he rubs the back of his neck. “Told ya, I dreamt of it. Maybe we could talk inside? It's better if there’s no one to hear us.”

Vicky hesitates, staring alternatively between him and the inside of her flat, until she finally moves away. Every part of her mind is screaming at her how bad an idea it is to let this strange, very strange man in, but her intuitions and curiosity are thinking otherwise. She has spent the weirdest month of her life, and something is telling her he would have the answers. 

“What’s your name?” She asks, closing the door behind him.

“Finan.” He smiles. “And ya’re Victoria?”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I am.” She studies him from a decent distance, actually more like a safe one. He is every bit of the man she’s been dreaming of, tall, thick dark hair, a few scars on his face, strong shoulders and something she has grown to find endearing about him, his childish smile. She wonders if he knows she’s been dreaming about him as well, he would have probably already mentioned it if he did. “So, why do you think we are the same?” She asks, her arms crossed over her chest. 

Finan looks around, as if to be sure that there is no one else listening. “I think you died during your accident.” 

“What?” She exclaims, her eyes widening. “I wouldn’t be standing here if I was dead.” She answers, tilting her head at what seems to be obvious to her. 

“That’s why I said you died.” He replies, insisting on the last word. 

“So I came back to life?” 

“Yes.”

“That’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard.” She says in an awkwardly neutral tone.

Finan rolls his eyes. “Then you should have a wound, anything that would prove you’ve had a crash. T’was quite violent of what I remember.” He raises an eyebrow and Vicky finds nothing to answer. He is right, she is miraculously alive, but the blood she found in the car and on her clothes doesn’t match that reality.

“How do you know all of that?” She asks again.

He moves forward but she immediately steps back. “I told ya, I think we’re the same. I died several times before.”

Vicky’s face twists in disbelief. “I can’t believe that.” She says. 

The man sighs, his shoulders falling heavily and looking up to the ceiling. “I guess I don’t have another choice than to make ya believe me.” He puts his hand in his pocket and removes a folding knife from it. 

“What are you doing?” She panics, stepping back even more.

He raises his hands in sign of peace. “Calm down, I won’t hurt ya.” He promises.

However, he unfolds the knife and to Victoria’s surprise he doesn’t try to attack her, but brings it to his neck. Finan takes a deep breath and murmurs something before sinking the blade in his throat, grimacing at the pain that occurs. A scream of horror escapes her as he falls to the floor, blood coming out of the wound and his mouth. She rushes to his side, removing the knife and pressing her hand on his throat to stop the bleedings.

“No, no, no, no… Stay with me, please.” She freaks out while Finan is bleeding to death on the floor of her flat, gasping for air. He holds her gaze, and in contrast to the time she dreamt of his death, he seems calm. With her other hand, she tries to find his pulse, but there’s nothing. “No…” She whispers, breathless. “No, no, no! You can’t be dead!” She starts to shake his shoulders and as he remains inert, she grabs her phone in her pocket and starts to tap the emergency number, trying not to tremble too much.

But before she can press on the green button, Finan takes a deep breath as if he is coming out of the water. Surprised, she drops her phone and falls back. He coughs several times, spitting blood as he sits up. Victoria can’t keep her wide opened eyes from him, especially when she notices how the wound in his neck heals by itself in a minute until there’s nothing, not even a scar. He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at the red puddle around him. 

“Hum… Sorry for the mess.” He apologizes as his eyes meet hers.

But Vicky can’t care less. “You were dead, and you’re fucking alive.” She whispers, not believing what she just witnessed.

“D'ya trust me now?” He asks her.

Vicky opens her mouth, but no sound comes out of it. She rubs her face with both her hands, not caring about the blood still on them. None of this makes sense, but it is undeniably real. “How did you do that?” She questions him, removing her hands.

Finan's gaze darkens for a brief moment. “I wish I knew.” He stands up, stretching his arms and her mind still can't grasp the fact that a few minutes ago he was dead. He walks towards her but he keeps the same distance she has settled before. “But I'm sure the same happened to ya.” 

Victoria looks up to him and there's some sort of joy sparking in his eyes to know she is like him and she wonders if until now, he has been the only one like this. She frowns, she knows nothing of him, but in a short time, he has revealed her every secret of what she could only call a superpower, and she feels like he deserves to know everything as well. 

“I dreamt of you too.” she says softly and it's Finan's turn to stare at her with wide eyes. 

He crouches in front of her. “Really?”

She shakes her head up and down vigorously. “I saw your death too. But you were wearing a leather armour, fighting in a clearing during the night.” Finan's face becomes as pale as a ghost as she explains her own dreams. “And then you're stabbed from behind, and I can feel all the pain, how the life is leaving your body.” She is quite surprised she succeeds to actually put words on it, thinking of it still giving her thrills. “I dreamt of other things, during other periods of time, but you’re always there.” She concludes, looking up from her bloody hands to him. “What does it mean?” 

“I’ve no idea.”

They both say nothing for a moment, simply trying to understand all the information. Everything seems so surrealistic to Vicky but she can’t deny all of this somehow makes sense. She sighs, like it could clear her confused thoughts and looks at the amount of blood on her floor. 

“Hm… I think I should clean that.” She says, pointing vaguely at the area. 

Finan looks behind him, grimacing. “Aye, let me help ya with that.”

“Sounds fair after you killed yourself in my entrance.” She adds as she rises to her feet, Finan doing so as well, chuckling lightly. 

She walks to a closet and comes back with a mop and a bucket. While she fills it with hot water and a little bit of cleaning soap, she discreetly observes Finan. It’s really strange to see him in a modern outfit after dreaming of him so many times in Middle Age clothes. She frowns, this thought bringing a new question.

“I have a question.” She declares, stepping towards him with the bucket while he grabs the mop she has leaned against a chair.

“Ask it.” He sinks the mop into the water and wrings it out while waiting for her question. 

“When did you die?”

The corner of his mouth rises. “I told ya, I died many times.” 

Vicky rolls her eyes. “I mean the first time.” 

Finan pauses, stopping to clean her floor, his eyes darkening as earlier. “Sometime during the ninth century.” He answers finally.

She makes a strangled sort of noise. “The ninth century? You’re what? A thousand years old? You look barely thirty!”

“I guess I should take that as a compliment.” He chuckles but Victoria isn’t in the mood to share a laugh. 

“Oh fuck me, you must be kidding me.” She sighs, sitting on the nearest chair. “Are you the only one like this?” She hesitates on a word that describes what she means but can't to a better one than : “Immortal?”

Finan shrugs. “As far as I know, there was just me until now.”

“So we are two.” She points her finger at her chest and then his. “Just you and I.” He nods, pinching his lips in a thin line while she shakes her head. “That's fucking insane.” 

“You're tellin' me!” He exclaims exaggeratingly.

But again Victoria ignores his attempt of jokes to ask another question. “How did you find me?”

His cheeky smile fades and he leans on the handle of the mop. “Well, in my dreams I could see moments of your life and I just tried to put all the pieces together.”

“That's creepy.”

This time he is the one rolling his eyes. “Trust me lass, when you'll have kept living for a millennial, being creepy will be the least of your problems.”

“So it was you in the bookshop?” He nods. “And you followed me?”

“I did.” He admits, finished with cleaning the floor. “Alright, maybe it really is creepy.” Victoria raises her eyebrows, as if she's surprised by his affirmation. “But it never happened to me before, and I just… I just had an intuition.”

“Well, it's maybe the least weird thing you told me since you knocked at my door.” She sighs taking the bucket and the mop from his hands to empty it in the toilets. When she comes back after putting everything back into the closet she pays more attention to the blood staining Finan's sweatshirt and her own clothes. “I should change clothes.” She says, pulling the edge of one of her sleeves, already annoyed by the time it will take to clean it correctly. “I must have something for you.”

Finan raises, probably doubting any of her clothes could fit him as she is a head smaller than him. 

“From my ex.” She answers, clearly having read his mind. 

“Ah, yeah. Thank ya.”

She walks away to her bedroom, taking the first clothes she finds and changing, making a pile of the dirty ones. Then she pulls out of a drawer a sweater from her ex that she hasn't thrown away yet. Before coming back to the living room she stops in the bathroom to wash her hands and face from the dried blood. The water is enjoyable, the only thing constant during this day where all her truths are being riled. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, meeting her own green eyes. 

“Maybe it's just a dream.” She says softly and brings her finger to her mouth. She bites in it, hard enough to break the skin. She hisses when she tastes a drop of blood on her tongue. It wasn't a dream. 

Suddenly, knocks at her door startle her and she bursts out of the bathroom. Finan is still in the middle of the living room, looking between her and the door. He looks as panicked as her and Vicky points at the room she just walked out of. 

“Hide in the bathroom.”

Finan doesn't object, grabbing the sweatshirt she hands him on his way. Once she has heard the door of the bathroom closing behind him she rushes to the front door and slowly opens. 

“Becca? What are you doing here?” Victoria asks after recognizing her best friend. 

Rebecca raises a surprised eyebrow. “You seem pleased to see me. I texted you I was coming.” She says, waving the hand with which she's holding her phone. 

“Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't really check my phone.” Victoria rubs the back of her neck. “Anyway, what do you want?”

Rebecca narrows her eyes, warning her that she's sounding weird, so she straightens a little and plasters her best smile on her face. 

“I forgot my gym bag here, yesterday. I just wanted to get it back.”

“Yeah, sure.” Victoria moves away from the door and Becca steps in, patiently waiting for her best friend to come back with the bag. 

She searches in the living room but she becomes pale when she hears a noise from the bathroom. “Is there someone else here?” She hears Rebecca ask. 

At the time she answers, she has found the bag and is walking back to her, quite nervous. “No.” She replies dryly and oh, how bad she is at lying, especially to Rebecca.

Her friend's face breaks into a mischievous smirk. “Are you hiding a boy?” 

Vicky stares at her with wide eyes before scoffing. “Absolutely not!” She hands her the bag quite abruptly. “Here's your bag. Do you need anything else?”

The tan skinned woman studies her for a second, no doubt knowing she's lying and Vicky is sure will probably hear of it in the following days. “No, that's all.” 

As soon as she's gone, Victoria heaves a sigh and turns around when the bathroom door opens. 

Finan's head appears from the small opening. “Am I the boy she's talking about?” 

“Obviously not, you're a thousand years old, old man.” She snaps, joining him.“The hell were you doing?” She pronounces her last words slower as she notices that he is standing bare chested in front of her, his skin covered with scars. She tries to keep her gaze on to his face, the blood now washed away from his beard and neck. “Doesn't matter. Get dressed.”

Vicky waits patiently in the living room for Finan to come back. When he comes back he’s wearing an uncomfortable smile, one of his thumbs jammed in his trousers pocket while he has his dirty sweatshirt in his other hand. There’s an awkward silence but Vicky couldn’t care less, sitting on a chair, her elbows resting on her thighs and her hands sliding into her hair. Finan comes closer to her and gently puts his hands on her shoulder, she doesn’t push him away, even if she wouldn’t usually allow such proximity with a stranger.

“Maybe I should let ya alone, so ya can process everythin’.” He says softly and when she lifts her head his gaze is as soft as his voice. She nods and he squeezes her shoulder before stepping to the fridge and writting something on a post-it glued on it. “That’s the hotel where I sleep, if ya need anythin’.” 

“Thank you.” 

He leaves right after, and somehow, Vicky hoped that as soon as he’d leave things would appear to be just a big joke. But she looks at the finger she bit earlier and there is no mark of her teeth, no wound. Her skin is as soft and healthy as usual.

A/N : This chapter’s dialogues are clearly the base of this fic, espacially the “a thousand yo??!!” sksks, or Finan killing himself, as @maggiescarborough​ told me : a real drama queen. Anyway, see you next week for the next chapter ;)

Tag : @obipoelover​ @for-bebbanburg​ @naps4bats​ @osferth​ @maggiescarborough​ @finansarms​ @dumbledoreisnotmyhubby​

[pjoseries]

hi! congrats on reaching 600 followers!! i'm a brand new follower and i'd love to request ✨ a drabble for percabeth and soulmate (born with a tattoo of soulmate's last words) thank you and congrats again!

✨ soulmates are born with a tattoo of their soulmate's last words (ao3 link)

(***post-canon, major character death, some violence)

══════════════════

The ocean is quiet today. The waves skirt passed her ankles like it’s afraid to overwhelm her. It won’t. Nothing about the water can—too many memories steeped in sunlight, gold dripping through her hands until all that’s left are remnants of the shine she once experienced. She should try to thank Poseidon for taming the sea for the day, but she thinks he needs it too. He’s always been fond of Percy and despite knowing him for years, the death of his son will still weigh heavily on him. 

Annabeth curls her knees up to her chest and she settles her head down, one hand drifting mindlessly through the sand. It takes her a minute to realize she was doodling Percy’s features, nothing really distinct. Just the sharp line of a jaw, the swoop of his hair, the curve of his smile. It hasn’t been long since the funeral, since she gripped Percy’s shroud in her hands and watched as everyone bowed their head and spoke a prayer when it caught flame, but she’s so scared of forgetting his face. She wipes away the sand on her bare calves, letting it stick to her even if the coarseness of it makes her itch under her skin. 

She can’t help but remember the last time his funeral happened, years ago when they were both just teens, and Percy barged in on his shroud burning. Gods, the anger left as quickly as it appeared, too busy drowning in relief at the sight of him. She remembers those weeks after she left Percy to die on that mountain, remembers how she thought with a bitter tinge of regret that he wasn’t her soulmate, but he was her best friend and she lost him and it took everything in her not to break down because it was her fault. 

Then he came back. But he’s not coming back this time. Not even if she begs the gods, travels down to Hades to bargain for his soul herself. She’s not Orpheus and he’s not Eurydice and they’re not a tragedy or some messed up story that can be solved with a few tricks and pretty words. 

Percy’s dead.  

He said the last words etched into the fabric of her skin. That’s more permanent than death. 

His words ache on the side of her ribs, burning a little. It’s nothing she hasn’t dealt with before, so she just shifts quietly to ease the pain. 

There’s a crash of a wave that’s louder in her ears and somebody sits next to her. She doesn’t turn her head from her view of the sea. Bits of sun peaks through the gray skies and it hits the water, bouncing the light back up to her own gaze. The ocean today is a few shades off from Percy’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Poseidon says, something caught in his throat. Annabeth ignores it and nods in acknowledgement. 

She coughs. “I’m sorry for yours too.”

They stay silent and the waves recede even more, not like when Percy does it. He restrains it so much when he’s emotional, it roars back at him, a perfect representation of his own thoughts. Today though, it’s not suppressed and bubbling and ready to strike out again. It’s just sad.  

“He’s probably waiting in Elysium.” The for you is implied, but she hears it all the same. 

“You knew?” she asks, spreading her legs out in front of her. She risks a glance at Poseidon and, fuck, it hurts so much to see Percy in him. She adds, almost casually if it’s not for her eyes stinging from the tears she’s holding back, “That we’re soulmates. Were soulmates.”

“It’s not a known fact, but we can sense soulmates. Not to the extent that Aphrodite does, but the stronger the bond, the more apparent it is.”

“How long have you known?”

“Oh, early on,” he says, giving her a gentle smile. “Perhaps when you were dancing back in Olympus. The first time, mind you.”

The laugh that leaves her chest is a little wobbly. She wipes her tears away swiftly. “I miss him. So much.”

“I do too.”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without him,” she says, her hands trembling. “He had so many years left, so many left—” with me. “A-and now I have to live without him? Stupid Seaweed Brain. He could’ve at least waited a few more damn years! Demigods don’t live long anyway, I’d probably get killed by some rogue monster.” 

In a fit of childish anger, she throws some sand at the sea. It doesn’t help. She huffs out an exasperated breath and lays down, throwing an arm over her eyes. The sand tickles at her scalp and she can feel a lump of slimy seaweed near her arm. 

Stupid seaweed. 

Her chest shakes with silent sobs and Poseidon taps at her shoulder, giving her time to grieve. And she has time. All the time, without Percy. 

Annabeth sends a prayer to Percy and thinks, I’ll see you later.

It must’ve been the wind, but she can almost hear a voice call back: Take your time. I’m not going anywhere. 

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Annabeth finds Percy in the crowd and jumps into his awaiting arms, ignoring any odd stares that’s sent her way. He lifts her up off her feet and twirls her around before kissing the tip of her nose. He grins widely, his dimple widening and she presses her lips to it. 

“Missed you,” she says into his cheek. 

“Missed you too, baby,” he says, then whispers, “How’s Olympus holding up?”

She rolls her eyes and threads her arm through Percy’s, gripping at his elbow as they start walking down to their apartment. “You’d think after fifteen years, they’d finally stop arguing about statute placements. Anyway, forget that. Who are we meeting today for dinner? Is it Demeter’s kids or Apollo’s?” 

“Neither, it’s Nike’s kids today.”

Percy makes it a tradition to bring some of the kids out one day of the week to Sally’s for a wellness check-up and ask if they need a place to crash while some transition out of camp back into the world. Annabeth thinks it’s sweet that Percy’s such a caring camp counselor. She knows if someone ever did that for her back when she was a year-round camper, she’d cry. As much as she loves it (and she does, enough to share some of Percy’s camp duties when she has some free time during summer), it’s rather isolating. 

While they’re walking, they hear the sound of metal and hissing and they take one look at each other before they run towards the alleyway. 

It’s one of the kids, bruised up and bleeding, but her sword’s still up despite her whole arm shaking. The kid’s eyes catch Percy’s and her body relaxes slightly, but enough for the empousa on the far right to begin striking. 

Percy quickly uncaps riptide and intercepts it. His movements are sure and steady, moving his body in front of the kid’s. Annabeth flicks her wrist and her knife comes down easily in her hand. She circles the next two empousi on the left and manages to kill one by surprise. Annabeth’s lucky she’s wearing a simple tee and jeans instead of her usual outfit whenever she goes up to Olympus. There’s way too many for one kid and her mind whirs with hundreds of possible answers as to why there’s a hoard near Sally’s apartment tonight. Despite her thoughts, she manages to gut another one while Percy’s fighting off two more and the kid another. 

In what seems like a split second, the kid screams and Percy turns around and blocks the attack that would’ve gone through the kid’s heart. But as he does so, his back turns against the other two and Annabeth rushes to fight them off because, dammit, she should’ve had his back. In a panic, she throws her knife and it lodges into one of their heads, leaving her knife clattering on the ground surrounded by dust. But she’s too late. Gods, she’s too late. 

Annabeth picks her knife back up, but the empousa tears a whole through Percy’s side, just as he kills the one targeting the kid. Annabeth yells, feral and wild, and slits the empousa’s throat, the last of their gurgling laugh dying as they turn to dust. 

Percy slumps to the floor and Annabeth rushes to him. She pats at her pockets for her emergency stash of ambrosia, but they’re flat. She turns towards the kid, frantic, and orders, “Run back to Sally’s and grab the ambrosia.”

The kid’s eyes were flickering towards Percy’s stomach. Frightened. Annabeth doesn’t have the guts to admit that she’s frightened too. “Go.”

The kid runs and Annabeth’s attention is back to Percy who’s shivering. They have no water, no ambrosia, and they’re in the middle of a damn alleyway and he’s bleeding out so fast. Shit. 

“Percy,” she says, trembling. “Can you move? We have to move, baby.”

“Can’t,” he grits out. He lets out a forced laugh. “Think my insides are gonna pop out.”

Annabeth’s vision is blurry and she can’t fucking see anything. She shudders in a breath and tries to gently hold Percy together. “Percy, please. Please, this can’t be how it ends. You’re supposed to be with me forever.”

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, baby. My—fuck, my forever isn’t that long. Glad I spent it with you.”

“We have to get out of here,” she mutters, leaning down and pressing her forehead to his. Her tears fall on his cheeks. She repeats, “We have to get out of here.”

There’s something unbearably sad in Percy’s gaze. The hand that’s not pressed to his stomach reaches up and tucks her hair back. It falls back down, too weak to hold itself up any longer. “Everything will be alright. It’s okay, Annabeth. Everything will be alright.”

She shakes her head and sobs.

Those are the words tattooed on her ribs. When she reaches up again to say more, Percy’s eyes were glazed and distant, staring up at the gloomy sky. 

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

When they find her, she’s still crying, holding her dead soulmate to her chest.

[justniaaa]

Unravel Me (3)

Rating: 18+ NSFW

Work Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Christopher “Rio” Martinez x black!oc

Warning: Panic attack, anxiety, self doubt, swearing, use of the “n” word

A/N: Hey loves! So excited to finally share the third chapter with you all! Forgive me for the late posting, I wanted to be a post once a week type of writer but that seems to be not the case, especially with my semester starting soon and a new job being in the works. But please bare with me, I will try and make sure you guys get content even if it’s not consistent.  Thank you for reading my story and please like, comment and reblog. Alright enough of my ramblings,  Enjoy and happy reading! <3

Summary: Toni forms an unsuspecting friendship with Christopher that turns into something more. As her feelings towards him continue to grow she starts to  unravel the secrets that surround him and in return, he unravels her completely.

Chapter 3: Welcome back

“Finally,” Toni said with relief as she pulled up in her Honda Accord at Lux. She made sure to get to the bar early and was happy when she got there with five minutes left to spare. Taking a moment to herself before going in, she tried to occupy her mind with checking her hair and makeup in the rearview mirror. Try as she must, doubt began to settle in the forefront of her mind, in if she was making the right decision. 

Toni felt her heart begin to beat faster and faster. Out of breath, and body hot she turned her AC on at full blast, Dr. Simone’s instructions ringing in her head.

--------------------------------Flashback------------------------------------------

Now Antonia if you ever feel like you’re going to have an anxiety attack, I want you to try this breathing exercise called “Calming Breath”.”

Toni listened to her therapist Dr. Simone with rapt attention, “Honestly doc, I’ll take anything to just stop this shit, excuse my french.”

Dr. Simone chuckled, amused by her slip up. “No need to apologize, Antonia. How many times do I have to tell you this is a place where you can express yourself freely without judgment?”

“I know, I know.”

“Now like I was saying before, I want you to try an exercise called “Calming Breath.” What that entails is you taking a long, slow breath through your nose, and holding your breath to the count of three then exhaling slowly through your lips. It should help you relax your muscles in your face, shoulders, and stomach. We can practice a couple of times if you would like.”

Toni shook her head in understanding, “Thanks doc, but I think I got it.” After a few seconds of silence, Dr. Simone gave her a knowing look. “But just in case I don’t have it, can you repeat the steps again?

----------------------End of flashback-------------------------------------------

Hearing Dr. Simone’s directions, Toni began her breathing exercises, breathe in, hold, breathe out. She did the steps a couple more times until she slowly felt her heartbeat go back to normal. Softly smiling Toni was proud of herself for getting her anxiety in check until she looked at the clock on her dashboard.

She had two minutes until her shift started.

“Fuck, I can’t be late when I’m literally sitting right in front of the place”

Toni made sure she had all her belongings and shut off the ignition, quickly hopping out and closing her car door. Walking to the entrance, she took in the building, like every bar it looked mediocre in the daytime, with its red brick and black awning. But at night that’s when it’s beauty really shined especially when they turned on the fairy lights outside that gave the establishment a welcoming shine. She reached the entrance and was debating if she should walk-in or call Avery, but before she could decide the door swung open, almost hitting her in the face.

“Woah!” Toni said, quickly jumping back and almost breaking her neck in the process from her heeled boots.

“Oh, shit my fault ma!”

Toni heard a low voice apologize as she was looking down at her scuffed boots. Anger and embarrassment flooded through her, she was angry because her boots had white marks all over them and embarrassed because of course, this would happen to her of all people.

“Shit, you not crying right? Your shoes are fire but they not worth your tears.”

Is this nigga for real?

Toni finally looked up to show the man she wasn’t having a breakdown, “First of all, I’m not crying, I'm pissed and second of all the door is literally glass how did yo-?!”

“Oh shit Antonia?!”

Startled by the interruption, she stared confused at how he knew her name. A few seconds passed until the realization set in after she took in his dark skin and short box braids. He’s had the same hairstyle since college.

“Sean?!”

“Yoo! I can’t believe it’s you!” Sean came in for a hug as Toni stood there in shock, her hands came up awkwardly to hug him back. “It’s good to see you girl! How you been?!”

I’m emotionally damaged, I haven’t had sex in months and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

“I’m good, and I go by Toni now mostly. How are you?”

Sean shook his head, “My fault, my fault.”

Her question wasn’t answered as Sean took a step back, eyes roving over her body. He had a smirk on his lips as he took in her black sheer top, fitted black jeans, and her slightly damaged snake print block heeled boots. “Damn Ant- I mean Toni, you look even better than you did in college.”

Toni was grateful that he caught himself and at the same time she sucked her teeth. “You are so full of shit, reminds me of back in the day when you would flirt with all the girls in our Humanities class, and Honey would get pissed at you for it.”

His smirk noticeably dropped, showcasing that her sister was a sore topic. Trying to lighten the mood Toni bumped him with her hip, “Anyways, I can’t believe you still work here, looking cute with your all black ensemble on.” He was wearing black, from the t-shirt to the jeans and even his Vans.

It reminds me of a certain someone.

“You know how I do.” He told her, popping his faux collar, “My I.T hours are slim to none sometimes, so a couple of months ago I asked Avery for work to keep me above water.”

Toni let out a harsh breath, “That’s why I’m here too, I just hope I can remember my orders, hell even how to make drinks properly...”

Sean nodded and wrapped his arm around Toni’s shoulders, noticing her growing unease. “Hey, no need to be nervous. You know this bar like the back of your hand and from what I remember I know you would’ve brushed up on your skills before you even thought about calling Avery for a job. I got your back, with whatever, so stop worrying about stupid shit.”

Toni looked up at him and saw the sincerity on his face. When they met freshman year he always treated her like a sibling, making sure to help her out if she ever needed him.

“You getting soft on me nigga?” Toni asked, breaking the sappiness between them. She lightly punched his stomach, making Sean playfully wince in pain. She laughed and wrapped her arm around his side, “Damn, you really are soft Sean.”

“Shut up killa, before I tell Avery on you for being rude to his favorite employee.”

“Now that I’m back, I think that title comes back to me,” Toni gestured to herself.

“Fuck out of here.”

They both chuckled as they walked to the entrance, the joking continuing between the old friends.

********************************************************************************************

Toni had been at the bar for hours, and like Sean said she quickly got back into the swing of things. When she walked in three minutes late because of her small catch up with him, she was worried Avery was going to wring her neck especially since it was technically her first day. But all he did was yell out, “Toni, baby welcome back!” His New York accent prominent.

The Italian man looked mostly the same if not a little gray on the edges of his once all black hair. The last time she saw him he didn’t have crinkles near his eyes when he smiled but Toni thought they fit him perfectly. Avery had a small belly now and wore a red dress shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves, showcasing his tattoo of his favorite pinup girl Bettie Page on his forearm. After all these years he still hadn’t strayed from the black slacks always saying, “The color never shows the stains of a bad night.” After introducing Toni to the rest of  her coworkers he went to the backroom to meet with some associates, letting her know he would be back to help out later.

It was ten o’clock and Rihanna’s Work was playing in the bar, making the mass of people sway to the music and talk with drinks in their hands. The crowd seemed to not be getting any smaller and Toni was taking people’s drink orders as she was making other customers drinks. She didn’t remember it being this busy on just a regular Wednesday night, but she could guess as areas started to get more gentrified the crowds began to change. 

The hanging lights gave Lux an intimate glow but provided enough light for people to see each other. Stools were lined up in front of the bar, and they were all filled with customers, laughing and drinking, some of them eating onion rings and french fries or whatever other bar snacks that were served. The wooden booths that were along the wall, gave patrons the option to be more personal and away from the crazy that was the bar counter.

“Hey Toni, I need a pitcher of Budweiser,” Rosa, her coworker, stood next to her, her voice was slightly raised because she was trying to be heard over the volume of the chatter.

“Gotcha babe,” Toni got out the plastic container and put it under the spigot, pulling the lever. As the brownish-gold liquid poured, she looked out into the mob, watching individuals coming in and out of Lux. Sean was vaguely seen from where she was standing, checking ID at the door. Toni stopped the stream of beer and turned to Rosa, handing her the pitcher, “Thank you!” The blue-haired woman said with a smile, leaving to go tend to her customer.

Toni was about to put her hand out to stop Rosa before she got too far. Wanting to let her know she was going to take her fifteen-minute break, when she heard, “Can I get a Jack on the rocks?”

Toni frowned, in confusion at hearing the deep voice that had been on her mind for the past several days. Was she thinking about him too much, that she conjured him up somehow? She slowly turned to the individual that never failed to give her goosebumps whenever she laid eyes on him. In his usual calm demeanor, Chris was sitting at the bar, looking at her with a raised brow and smirk playing on his lips.

And he looked good, really fucking good.

He had on a black button-up and a chain around his neck that made the eagle tattoo on his neck stand out on his tan skin. She didn’t know if it was possible but he looked even better than when she saw him last.

Fuck me.

Toni bit her lip from her sinful thoughts and got a glass from behind the bar, beginning to make his drink. She glanced up and saw him watching her with his dark eyes, making her downcast her gaze. Not wanting him to notice her slightly shaking hands as she got ice out of the chest, Toni finally spoke, “Well, look who's back.” she said while she poured the liquor into the chilly glass.

Chris looked amused as she put the drink down in front of him and in the process of releasing it his hand came up, holding onto the glass as well, making his fingers come in contact with hers.

“Missed me?” He asked both of their hands still on the drink and unmoving as they checked each other out.

Toni shrugged, “Hardly.”

“I think my feelings would be hurt if I actually believed you ma.”

Toni grinned at his words, “How was work? I didn’t think you would be back so soon.”

“Cut ties with some of my partners for fucking up the numbers, but shit is all good now.”

Toni went to reply when suddenly Avery came up next to Chris, he put a broad hand on his shoulder, “Toni I didn’t know you knew Rio.”

She moved her hand away from Chris’s touch and picked up the rag that was on the counter, cleaning up the sticky bar top. Toni felt like Avery caught her hand in the cookie jar and from his knowing look, it seemed like Avery might have the same sentiment as well.

Toni cleared her throat, “We just met, actually.” She didn’t really understand where the hell “Rio” came from when she had been calling him “Chris” for the past several weeks.

“Well let me introduce you two then, Rio this is Toni my returning employee and one of the best damn bartenders, I’ve ever had and Toni this is Rio, the co-owner of Lux and your boss,” Avery said making introductory motions between the two.

Toni’s eyes widened and she stopped fake wiping the counter. My boss?! How many businesses did this man have?

“That shits all semantics Avery, you're the real boss of this place. I’m just here to be a helping hand,” Chris said, giving Toni a pointed look, showing her that it wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

“I suppose.” Avery patted Chris’s shoulder again with a grin, then turned to Toni once more, “I think it’s time for your fifteen Toni the crew and I can handle it if another wave comes in.”

Toni nodded, “Thanks Avery, and nice to meet you, Rio,” she said sickly sweet. Toni left the rag on the counter and squeezed behind Rosa, leaving from behind the bar. She took a look behind her and saw Chris and Avery talking and her usually chill boss didn’t seem all that happy. Toni walked outside, seeing Sean sitting on a chair, his fingers moving quickly on his iPhone. He looked over when he saw her walk out, and gave her a smile displaying his pearly whites. “I was right, wasn’t I? Shit was like you never left.”

“Yes negro, you were right.” Toni said leaning against the window, her feet becoming achy.

“You can take my seat sis. I need to be standing anyway or Avery will have my ass if he catches me sitting again.”

Toni laughed, “Thanks.”

Sean got up and let her sit down, standing in silence. He kept glancing over to her while opening his mouth and closing it like he wanted to ask Toni something. After the third time of this, Toni sighed, “What Sean?”

“Nothin, Nothin…”

She gave him a sour look until he finally broke, “What’s with the name change?” Sean put his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t get me wrong Honey and some of your friends called you Toni but you’ve never told anyone that they had to do the same.”

Toni went for nonchalance not wanting to alarm him, “I just thought Toni was better, it definitely helps with the awkwardness of people calling me Antonio all the time until I corrected them.” She thought that would be enough for Sean, because what she said made total sense but Toni was very, very wrong.

“Bullshit,” Sean said, making her mouth fall open.

“What do you mean, bullshit!?”

“You loved watching people get red in the face when you corrected them, so whatchu sayin’ is bullshit. We haven’t seen each other in a minute but I still know you, so give me the real reason before I call Latoya.”

They both knew her mom couldn’t hold water sometimes and even if she didn’t know the real reason, Toni didn’t want Sean talking to her and possibly unearthing secrets that she tried to keep buried for as long as possible. She took in a breath and crossed her arms. At first she didn’t know what to say to appease her old friend, as he waited for an explanation but she decided to stick to the truth as close as possible.

“I just wanted a change, I went through a hard time and to completely be rid of it, I made the decision to have people just call me Toni rather than Antonia. It really cemented for me that I was a different person than I was before.” Toni fiddled with a loose string on her jeans, “I mean my parents still call me Antonia and there are certain family members as well that do it too, but in my everyday life, I stick with Toni and the solace it gives me.”

Sean appeared satisfied with her answer, but Toni noticed there was a little squint to his eye like he knew that wasn’t the full truth but he let her statement stand.

“So, I’m probably hella corny for this and I know you won’t let me live this down but..”Sean outstretched his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Toni.”

His expression was sincere and comical at the same time and it made Toni grin, “Nice to meet you too, Sean Puff Daddy Combs.”

Sean sucked his teeth, “Here we go with that Puff Daddy shit.”

A party of people came walking up as they were laughing, making Sean check their ID’s ending their conversation.

For a few minutes, Toni was scrolling through Instagram readying herself to go back inside soon when she saw Chris walk out of the bar. He was standing at the threshold and he seemed to be scanning the parking lot. When it appeared he didn’t find what he was looking for he went to turn back around, but he suddenly stopped when he saw Toni sitting in the corner.

Toni waved her hand, “Sup, Rio.”

Chris snickered and walked towards her, getting close enough that Toni could smell his cologne. He looked down at her as she looked up at him. “I can start calling you Rio if you prefer. I mean I have my own hang-up with my name, so it’s really fine,” she said.

“Nah,” He said, a matter of fact.

He didn’t supply any other explanation so Toni gave a soft “Okay,” and leaned back into the chair. Sean gave Chris a head nod as he kept doing his job and telling an apparent drunk couple, that they couldn’t come into the bar, much to their dismay.

“I didn’t know you had a problem with your name, I’ve been calling you Antonia since we met,” Toni turned her attention back on him, taking notice that he had a blunt in his hand and was lighting it up with a skull covered lighter. His gold rings glimmered from the lights coming from the windows of the bar.

“It’s my own personal shit, but shockingly I don’t mind hearing it from you.”

“Is that right?” Chris said. He took a hit and held in the smoke until he released it into the cool air, through his nose and mouth. Toni was mesmerized by the tendrils of smoke, she didn’t understand how he made even smoking attractive but everything Chris did turned her on. He offered her the blunt, probably thinkings that’s why she was staring but Toni declined, not really into smoking much like she used to because of a bad trip she had years ago.

“You probably think I’m weird as hell, that I pick and choose what people can address me as.”

“Nah I get it, some believe knowing a person’s real name makes you have power over them.”

Toni knitted her brow, “Do you believe that?” she asked him. Chris took another hit and rubbed his beard like he was mulling over the question.

“I tell my associate’s my name is Rio ‘cause I don’t want them to get to close, too familiar. When they start to get too comfortable and start to think we friends or some shit than that interferes with my business and I can’t have that.” Chris began playing with his rings like it was a tick of his that he probably never noticed he had, “So yeah I think having knowledge of someone's name can have some sort of power.”

She sighed and crossed her leg, “I think I agree with you, but if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you care about me knowing your real name? It's not like we’re exactly friends.”

“Oh shit, we not?” Chris said feigning shock, “ Damn mama that’s fucked up.”

Toni rolled her eyes, “Oh please.”

Chris grinned at her and licked his lips, throwing the finished blunt on the floor and ashing it under his black and white Converse. “You’re different and if you gonna be my girl, I think it’s best if you know who I really am right?”

“Your girl? You haven’t even taken me out on a date, so how in the hell am I going to be your girl?”

“Right, Right,” Chris said. His phone began to ring and he took it out of his dark blue jeans and muted it, his eyes never straying from Toni. “So let me take you out this Friday.”

Toni snorted thinking he was joking but stopped short when she realized that he didn’t even crack a smile, “Wait you’re serious?”

“Dead ass”

Chris’s phone rang again and this time he did look at it, with an evident scowl. Abruptly he said, “I gotta go Antonia, but I’ll text you the details,” Chris kissed Toni’s cheek and turned to leave, in the process he took his keys out of his pocket.

Toni’s eyes were wide as hell at what just happened. She blinked a couple of times to get out of the fog that took over her mind and noticed that he was almost to his Range Rover.

As he walked further away Toni yelled out, “Wait I don’t even have your number!”

He took a look over his shoulder, “It’s straight, I got yours!”

She went to nod then paused, “Wait, what?!”

Toni heard Chris laugh as he got into his car, turning it on. He sped out of the parking lot, leaving her to watch his taillights disappear into the LA traffic. Sean came over to where she was sitting and heavily sighed fatigue, and annoyance relevant in his form. “Got damn, did you see how fucked up they were? Imma have to tell Avery I need help ‘cause I can’t take ID’s and pat them down while babysitting grown-ass adults. Fuck that shit.”

Toni didn’t say anything, her thoughts still on what transpired seconds before. Sean took notice of the silence and softly elbowed his friend, used to her having a sarcastic quip. “You good? What did I miss?”

I’m going on date,” Toni said, feeling a glimmer of happiness.

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