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evidence-based-activism · 2 months

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Individual men aren't equally predisposed to committing rape. men are approximately 49% of the population and commit 80% of violent crime. The correlation to testosterone to physical aggression is indisputable -- this correlation between masculinization and aggression exists even in women.

These antisocial behaviors are the subverted, shadow aspect to the more predominant masculine (even in masculine women) urge to provide and protect, which entails necessary and selective objectification and aggression.

“There is no female Mozart because there is no female Jack the Ripper.” is what Camille Paglia said. Genius, she argues, takes obsession, which produces good and bad talents and skills. Women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum and men on the ends.

Social forces are certainly at play, but I want to stay focused. trauma or other external factors may serve to explain, but not excuse behavior. Feminine crime is more likely to be focused on family -- children, partners, elders, and others in the immediate family.

https://time.com/2921491/hope-solo-women-violence/

Women are at least equally as likely as men to initiate DV. 40% of victims in a DV study in America were men. Women are at least as likely as men to abuse their children and are the perpetrators in at least half of child maltreatment cases. Lesbian couples also have the highest rate of DV -- 44%, compared to 35% of straight women and 26% of gay men.

Anecdotally speaking, I was abused physically and psychologically by my mother, who was abused physically and psychologically by both her parents. I was also SA'd by a man. Both sexes have their share of degenerates who harm others. Whether their personalities or social experiences are masculine, feminine, or somewhere in between likely has an effect on how they express their violence. Everyone who commits a crime against another should be held accountable, I just disagree with the dichotomy that men are assumed to be perps and women are assumed to be victims.

I'm going to respond to this in parts.

"Individual men aren't equally predisposed to committing rape."

No, no one is ever equally predisposed to anything since that would require the confluence of innumerable, mostly unknown, factors. I have never made this claim; I don't of anyone who has ever made this claim.

"Men are approximately 49% of the population and commit 80% of violent crime."

This technically true in the USA [1]. However, it also leaves out the fact that men account for closer to 90% of homicide offenders in the USA and closer to 95% of homicides worldwide [2]. And those statistics don't even consider the fact that many female homicide offenders were acting in self defense. Men also account for closer to 90-95% of all sex offenders [3].

That is to say, a greater proportion of women's offenses are "simple assault" than men's [4]. (Simple assault is generally defined as either a threat of physical harm without any actual harm or minor acts of assault without resulting injury like slapping someone, grabbing their arm, or spitting on them.)

All in all, men commit the vast majority of violent crime and an even larger proportion of serious violent crime.

"The correlation to testosterone to physical aggression is indisputable -- this correlation between masculinization and aggression exists even in women."

No, no it is not, and no it does not.

This meta-analysis [5] found a correlation of 0.08 between testosterone and aggression. To be clear, a correlation score can range from -1 to +1, with -1 indicating a perfect negative correlation, +1 indicating a perfect positive correlation, and 0 indicating no correlation. A correlation of 0.08 is an extremely weak correlation.

Another, more recent, meta-analysis [6] found a 0.05 correlation between aggression and testosterone and no statistically significant causal effect of testosterone on aggression. Changes in testosterone were weakly correlated with aggression (0.16) and this was only in men. Importantly, this result may have been influenced by publication bias (see the study for details). Again, to be clear, they found no evidence of a causal connection between testosterone and aggression.

The lack causal connection is important, as some research as presented in this review [7] and meta-analysis [8], suggests that behavior/external events (like winning a competition) can increase testosterone. This raises an important question: can acting/being aggressive independently raise testosterone? If so, (and it does appear likely) then men who choose to act aggressive may be raising their testosterone levels; when recorded in a correlational format this results in the positive (albeit weak) correlation discussed above.

Here's some other, single study results:

In women, performing (acting out) a performance of power, whether in a traditionally masculine or feminine way, increased their level of testosterone [9]

In men, testosterone increases both pro-social and anti-social "status enhancing" behaviors [10]

Testosterone is associated with both "socially dominant [note: not necessarily aggressive] behavior among high-status persons, but strategic submission to seniority among lower-status persons" in men [11]

Testosterone is associated with greater pro-social behavior in women [12]

In an animal (male gerbil) model, testosterone caused prosocial behavior depending on "current social context" [13]

All in all, the correlation between testosterone and aggression is (1) not indisputable, (2) extremely weak, and (3) doesn't appear to apply to women.

"These antisocial behaviors are the subverted, shadow aspect to the more predominant masculine (even in masculine women) urge to provide and protect, which entails necessary and selective objectification and aggression."

Anon ... no. First of all, you appear to be treating "masculine" behavior as if it is biologically innate - for which there is no evidence - rather than socially determined.

You act as if women have not been "providing" since women existed. As if women haven't been involved in growing and domesticating plants and animals, haven't been taking care of children, haven't been growing and giving birth to all the children in history. Even the traditional "feminine" role emphasizes "providing" and "nurturing" the family.

I have the exact same comments for "protect", but more importantly: protect from what anon? From the weather? Bears? Disease? No. It's men. Men protect women from other men and then expect us to be grateful, as if it isn't men who have created the need for protection.

Beyond all that: even if the "masculine urge to provide and protect" were a real thing (and not something women have always been involved in), it still would not necessitate the "selective objectification and aggression". This argument isn't even logical ... why would "providing" need objectification? If there were no aggression what would be left to protect?

"There is no female Mozart ... "

Absolutely hilarious example to choose, anon. Meet, the female Mozart: Maria Anna “Nannerl” Mozart (his sister) [14].

And here's some other female contemporaries of Mozart [15]. I suggest Google as a resource to find more.

"...because there is no female Jack the Ripper."

While it is true that the number of male serial killers does outnumber female serial killers (and the disparity is even wider for those who kill specifically for sadism), there have, in fact, been some.

"Genius, she argues, takes obsession, which produces good and bad talents and skills. Women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum and men on the ends."

I find the argument that obsession -> genius to be very concerning, and don't expect there are any sources on that. In particular, serial killer IQs tend to follow the same range as non-serial killers (source in last linked post).

And no, the idea that women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum is not supported by high quality evidence.

This extensive multi-country review [16] on math performance found that the "variance ratio" (the measure for what you're describing) varies widely between countries and is related to social inequality. This suggests the differences in variance are a result of environmental not innate differences.

This longitudinal study [17] claims to find differences in girl's and boy's IQ scores, but the differences found are within the margin of error of the test. This means that a sex difference is unlikely to exist, and is, at the very least, not reliably measurable. It also suggests that any difference in the variance of IQ scores, is very small. (And see above for possible alternative explanations of this difference.)

"Social forces are certainly at play"

Yes, as indicated above.

"but I want to stay focused."

Focused on what??

"trauma or other external factors may serve to explain, but not excuse behavior."

Agreed (mostly). They may serve as a partial explanation yes, but people can experience trauma or other hardships without engaging in violence.

"Feminine crime is more likely to be focused on family -- children, partners, elders, and others in the immediate family." + [The link]

Correct, most crime by women is aimed at people they know. See above posts (when I spoke about homicide) for further discussion on this.

The link is an anecdotal source on this topic, again, refer to my earlier discussions.

"Women are at least equally as likely as men to initiate DV. 40% of victims in a DV study in America were men. Women are at least as likely as men to abuse their children and are the perpetrators in at least half of child maltreatment cases."

This is completely false. The idea that women perpetrate domestic violence or child abuse at similar rates as men, is a misogynistic myth.

See this post for an explanation. Also, this source [18] discusses the topic of women and domestic violence perpetration; I plan to eventually make a post on this topic, but in the meantime that source is an excellent place to start.

"Lesbian couples also have the highest rate of DV -- 44%, compared to 35% of straight women and 26% of gay men."

This is also a myth. A misogynistic and homophobic myth.

I'm not sure where you got those specific numbers, but I believe the origin of the myth started in the one of the CDC's reports on "Victimization by Sexual Identity" [19]. See this post for an explanation on why you shouldn't use this data to try and estimate perpetration. (Short version: it isn't weighted to be representative of the perpetrator population.) For the intimate partner violence portion in particular, it shares the same issues I describe in my post debunking the last two myths (i.e., reliance on the CTS and issues there within.)

More importantly, they don't report on the sex of the perpetrator for domestic violence, so we also have no idea if the lifetime prevalence rate of domestic violence is a result of prior relationships with a man. Data on other forms of victimization support the possibility, with 73% of lesbian victims reporting only male perpetrators of any contact sexual violence and 90% of lesbian victims reporting only male perpetrators of rape. In addition, 52% of lesbian victims report only male perpetrators of stalking.

This BJS report "Violent Victimization by Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, 2017–2020" [20] shows a similar rate of intimate partner violence for homosexual and heterosexual individuals. Importantly, however, this combines male and female homosexual individuals into one category, so we don't know the specific rate for female homosexuals.

"Anecdotally speaking, I was abused physically and psychologically by my mother, who was abused physically and psychologically by both her parents. I was also SA'd by a man."

This is terrible, and I hope you are safe and able to heal.

"Both sexes have their share of degenerates who harm others."

Sure, I mentioned the female serial killers. Notably, however, if you take a random sample of "degenerates who harm others" the vast majority are men.

"Whether their personalities or social experiences are masculine, feminine, or somewhere in between likely has an effect on how they express their violence."

I do not know what you mean by this. Socialization definitely plays a significant role in why men are so much more violent than women, but "feminine" men can and have been as violent as "masculine" men and "masculine" women have been as non-violent as "feminine" women.

"Everyone who commits a crime against another should be held accountable"

Yes.

"I just disagree with the dichotomy that men are assumed to be perps and women are assumed to be victims."

Anon, you started this ask by acknowledging that men commit 80% of violent crime (and I clarified that men commit 90+% of serious violent crime). This disparity is significant enough that it is perfectly reasonable to treat violent crime as a gendered phenomenon.

There are always exceptions and outliers. The existence of these cases does not invalidate the trend, nor should they deter the generalizations needed for meaningful class analysis.

Now, if you want to advocate against violence in general, draw attention to "male-on-male" violence and work to reduce it, that's also reasonable, and I wish you luck with your endeavor. (In all likelihood, feminist activism will - and already has - reduced male-on-male violence, even when it wasn't a specific target.)

But you still need to acknowledge that violence is primarily the domain of men. You also need to recognize that feminism is a movement by and for women. Our focus will always be male violence against women.

References below the cut:

Alexandra Thompson & Susannah N. Tapp. (2023). Criminal victimization, 2022 (307089; Criminal Victimization). Bureau of Justice Statistics. https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/criminal-victimization-2022

Homicide and Gender. (2015). UNODC United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime.

McCartan, K. (Ed.). (2014). Responding to Sexual Offending. Palgrave Macmillan UK. https://doi.org/10.1057/9781137358134

Lawrence A. Greenfeld & Tracy L. Snell. (2000). Women Offenders. Bureau of Justice Statistics. https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/women-offenders

Archer, John, et al. “Testosterone and Aggression: A Reanalysis of Book, Starzyk, and Quinsey’s (2001) Study.” Aggression and Violent Behavior, vol. 10, no. 2, Jan. 2005, pp. 241–61. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.avb.2004.01.001.

Geniole, S. N., et al. “Is Testosterone Linked to Human Aggression? A Meta-Analytic Examination of the Relationship between Baseline, Dynamic, and Manipulated Testosterone on Human Aggression.” Hormones and Behavior, vol. 123, July 2020, p. 104644. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yhbeh.2019.104644.

van Anders, Sari M., and Neil V. Watson. “Social Neuroendocrinology.” Human Nature, vol. 17, no. 2, June 2006, pp. 212–37. Springer Link, https://doi.org/10.1007/s12110-006-1018-7.

Geniole, Shawn N., et al. “Effects of Competition Outcome on Testosterone Concentrations in Humans: An Updated Meta-Analysis.” Hormones and Behavior, vol. 92, June 2017, pp. 37–50. ScienceDirect, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yhbeh.2016.10.002.

Van Anders, Sari M., et al. “Effects of Gendered Behavior on Testosterone in Women and Men.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol. 112, no. 45, Nov. 2015, pp. 13805–10. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1509591112.

Dreher, Jean-Claude, et al. “Testosterone Causes Both Prosocial and Antisocial Status-Enhancing Behaviors in Human Males.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, vol. 113, no. 41, Oct. 2016, pp. 11633–38. PubMed Central, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1608085113.

Inoue, Yukako, et al. “Testosterone Promotes Either Dominance or Submissiveness in the Ultimatum Game Depending on Players’ Social Rank.” Scientific Reports, vol. 7, no. 1, July 2017, p. 5335. www.nature.com, https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-017-05603-7.

Casto, Kathleen V., and David A. Edwards. “Testosterone and Reconciliation Among Women: After-Competition Testosterone Predicts Prosocial Attitudes Towards Opponents.” Adaptive Human Behavior and Physiology, vol. 2, no. 3, Sept. 2016, pp. 220–33. Springer Link, https://doi.org/10.1007/s40750-015-0037-1.

Kelly, Aubrey M., et al. “Beyond Sex and Aggression: Testosterone Rapidly Matches Behavioural Responses to Social Context and Tries to Predict the Future.” Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, vol. 289, no. 1976, June 2022, p. 20220453. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1098/rspb.2022.0453.

Walker ·, Karla. “Who Was the Female Mozart?” Colorado Public Radio, 18 May 2022, https://www.cpr.org/2022/05/18/who-was-the-female-mozart/.

Hidden Herstory: Mozart and His Female Contemporaries - Women’s Philharmonic Advocacy. 22 July 2022, https://wophil.org/hidden-herstory-mozart-and/.

Kane, Jonathan M., and Janet E. Mertz. “Debunking Myths about Gender and Mathematics Performance.” Notices of the American Mathematical Society, vol. 59, no. 01, Jan. 2012, p. 10. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1090/noti790.

Lynn, Richard, and Satoshi Kanazawa. “A Longitudinal Study of Sex Differences in Intelligence at Ages 7, 11 and 16 Years.” Personality and Individual Differences, vol. 51, no. 3, Aug. 2011, pp. 321–24. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.paid.2011.02.028.

Michael S. Kimmel. (2001). Male Victims of Domestic Violence: A Substantive and Methodological Research Review. The Equality Committee of the Department of Education and Science. https://vawnet.org/material/male-victims-domestic-violence-substantive-and-methodological-research-review

Chen, J., Khatiwada, S., Chen, M. S., Smith, S. G., Leemis, R. W., Friar, N., Basile, K. C., and Kresnow, M. (2023). TheNational Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS) 2016/2017: Report on Victimization by Sexual Identity.Atlanta, GA: National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Truman, Jennifer L., and Rachel E. Morgan. Violent Victimization by Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, 2017–2020. Bureau of Justice Statistics, June 2022, https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/violent-victimization-sexual-orientation-and-gender-identity-2017-2020.

#feminism #male violence

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nightbunnysong · 1 month

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How neuroscience-backed practices can boost your long-term health and cognitive function

In the pursuit of optimizing both mental and physical well-being, neuroscientific research offers valuable insights into specific practices that have long-term benefits. Below are four highly effective habits supported by science that you can incorporate into your daily routine to improve brain health and overall wellness.

1. Practice 20 minutes of diaphragmatic breathing every day

Diaphragmatic breathing, also known as deep breathing, activates the vagus nerve, a crucial component of the parasympathetic nervous system. This type of breathing helps reduce cortisol production and lowers heart rate, creating a state of calm. Over time, regular practice of diaphragmatic breathing can significantly reduce chronic stress, improve emotional regulation, and enhance cardiovascular health.

Scientific support: studies have shown that consistent diaphragmatic breathing can alter the body's stress response, leading to long-term benefits such as lower blood pressure and improved heart rate variability—an indicator of cardiovascular resilience.

2. Engage in moderate physical activity for at least 150 minutes a week

Regular physical activity, especially of moderate intensity, has profound effects on brain structure and function. Exercise increases the volume of the hippocampus, the region of the brain associated with learning and memory. It also boosts the production of endorphins and dopamine, which enhance mood and reduce symptoms of depression.

Scientific support: longitudinal studies have found that individuals who maintain regular moderate to intense physical activity have larger brain volumes, a reduced risk of dementia, and better cognitive function compared to those who lead a sedentary lifestyle.

3. Listen to classical or instrumental music while studying

Listening to classical music, such as the works of Mozart, can increase alpha wave activity in the brain, which is associated with a state of relaxed alertness. This type of music stimulates the release of dopamine, a neurotransmitter that enhances motivation and focus.

Scientific support: research has shown that listening to classical music can improve concentration, memory, and learning ability. Over time, regular exposure to this type of music can enhance neuroplasticity, making it easier to learn and consolidate new information.

4. Regularly consume foods rich in choline, such as eggs and broccoli

Choline is an essential nutrient that plays a key role in the production of acetylcholine, a neurotransmitter crucial for memory and learning. Regular intake of choline through diet supports brain health and can improve synaptic plasticity.

Scientific support: studies have indicated that adequate choline intake is associated with better cognitive function and a reduced risk of neurodegenerative diseases such as Alzheimer’s. Over time, a choline-rich diet can support memory and protect the brain from age-related decline.

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pennyellee · 3 months

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chapter IX - lacuna

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader

genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, mentions of antidepressants, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of night terrors, mentions of self harm, manipulative behaviour, mentions of labotomy, medical cases, intimate life, diseases, “failed” pregnancy, alcohol, medication, etc.

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 8,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

A/N: so yes, it took me a while to actually finish this chapter and as I mentioned - it’s shorter than what I usually want to write for lacrimosa. Truth to be told, this is what I can do for now till I get something better to write on. I don’t know when the next chapter will be written and up, so for now thank you for your patience, i actually didnt think i would write a chapter whilst im in US coz the only device on my person is my phone, but im very happy I managed to write something. This chapter is more of a prequel go what’s going to happen next. Many of you actually guessed/predicted some things right and for some you have to wait till the very end, we’re near it.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it despite both our situations being crazy rn, ily queen 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

m.list

lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part

The night was relentless, a symphony of thunderclaps and the steady drum of rain against the cobblestones. The celebrations of the famous Kkangpae toned down, and after some months, several trips to the barren debris land of where Yakuza reigned, they returned safely to the sanctuary.

Back where she cannot hide from him in the stables, kitchen or sunroom, switching from one room to another just to not be in his presence for longer than she wanted. Yet, he managed to steal her away when his frustration boiled up enough. Y/N could’ve hinted how much she doesn’t want him to sleep next to her all she wants, he kept sneaking in and out every time. Yoongi was patient, determined even. Determined to make things right this time by giving her space. But the wrenching feeling of not having her close enough consumed him, night, day and moon.

Yoongi kept his promise, giving Y/N the space she needed while gradually attempting to rebuild the trust that had been shattered. He was careful with his words, patient in his actions, and ever attentive to her unspoken needs. The pair worked on their friendship these past weeks, he wanted himself to be her person. The person that she would love and lean on.

But the young Buin might seem calm now, from outside, but her wit remained under the surface. She buried herself deep within her psyche and doctor Kim could do very little to “repair” her. Not even renown specialists who came to give the young girl a helping hand did not succeed.

Yoongi watched her from a distance yet at the same time he was so close, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was partly to blame for her withdrawal. He had been too harsh, too controlling. Now, he was paying the price. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear. But every time he approached, he could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. It was a barrier he didn't know how to break.

Wang Xiaoqing’s wisdom was passed onto her, they whispered. But truth to be told, the elder woman, may she rest in peace, underestimated the new blood. The following legacy. Now, her kin suffers.

Yoongi wishes he never used the letter as leverage against her nor let her read it. At night he wonders whether that would change things. Whether by now she would be in love with him just as much he’s in love with her.

He sat down with the rest of his family at the dinner table after she broke down with yet another panic attack. The dining room was oppressively silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t even the end of January, and the snow was still prevailing outside. Yoongi sat at the head of the table, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though his heart was anything but calm.

Y/N was conspicuously absent, her chair at the table glaringly empty. Yoongi's mind replayed the scene from earlier, the look of sheer panic in her eyes as she had crumbled under the weight of her emotions. He had wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he knew his presence would only worsen her distress.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence, his voice strained but firm.

“I know you care about me. About this family—”

“I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have pushed her to the edge.”

“No, Yoongi—” the right hand man straightened himself in his seat interrupting his leader.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as he turned to face his right-hand man, Namjoon. The room held its breath, tension crackling in the air.

“Namjoon, please,” Yoongi said, his voice weary. “My wife slit her throat, stop justifying my actions.”

Namjoon hesitated but nodded, leaning back in his chair, his expression still troubled. Yoongi took a deep breath, steeling himself to continue.

"I pushed her too far, and now she's breaking—”

“Now, I don’t know what your intentions are with my wife, but I forbid you from whatever you are putting into her head.”

Namjoon's eyes widened in shock at Yoongi's words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right response. The weight of Yoongi's accusation hung heavy in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter, the tension palpable.

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had always trusted Namjoon implicitly, had relied on him as his closest confidant and advisor. But now, in the wake of Y/N's pain and suffering, he couldn't help but wonder if that trust had been misplaced.

“All of you.”

“Yoongi, I swear—” Namjoon began, his voice tinged with desperation. But Yoongi held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don't want to hear it, Namjoon,” he said, his tone final.

“Whatever it is, I’m giving her the space to tell me herself.” Namjoon's gaze faltered under Yoongi's intense stare.

“I would never intentionally do anything to harm Y/N or come between you two. She's like family to me, too.” Yoongi's jaw clenched tighter, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging Namjoon's words.

“Seokjin.” He addressed the oldest man in the room.

“Yes, Yoongi?” Seokjin replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“She’s still taking those pills you gave her,” Seokjin's brow furrowed in concern at Yoongi's words. They were only a temporary solution before Seokjin decided that day to put her on barbiturates. She needs his help and if he cannot help her the way he knows it will be most effective, he’ll at least prescribe whatever will tone down her night terrors so she can sleep at nights.

"I'll talk to her," he said firmly. “But you know what would certainly help her—” Yoongi’s hand flew high to hit the table, making everybody twitch at the loud noise.

“No, Seokjin. No.” The family members exchanged solemn nods. Yoongi took a moment to compose himself, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration.

"She needs more support than we can provide on our own. We have to consider what's best for her.” Yoongi struggled to find the words to express his feelings. "I know, Seokjin," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that is going way too far.”

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression earnest. The youngest at the end of the table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his input. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the tension in the room, before speaking up.

“Maybe you just need to stop shielding her in. Let her live a life—” Jungkook's suggestion hung in the air, a fresh perspective on the situation that caused the family members to exchange thoughtful glances.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he considered Jungkook's words, the idea of allowing Y/N more freedom conflicting with his instinct to protect her.

“But what if she runs for the hills, Kook.” Park Jimin’s voice echoed from across the room, his hands busy pouring the strong liquor to seven crystal glasses. Yoongi's gaze flickered towards Jimin, setting the first glass in front of him.

"I can't bear the thought of her running away from me again," Yoongi admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. Hoseok nodded in agreement, his expression sombre.

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, understanding Yoongi's apprehension. "I get where you're coming from, hyung,—” Jimin set down the last glass of liquor, his expression sympathetic.

“I’d say, nonetheless, she needs something to occupy her mind other than those thoughts.” Said Jimin sitting down on his chair while nursing his own glass of the booze.

"Maybe if we can find something that brings her joy, something to distract her—” Seokjin nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“She studied, tasted her own freedom and now all she’s left with is being your wife.” Yoongi's heart clenched at Jimin's words, a pang of guilt washing over him. But still a large part of him was thinking why it is not enough.

“She can work with me once she’s better.” The doctor interjected. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards Seokjin, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the suggestion.

"You think she'd be up for it?" Yoongi asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

“Ah hyung you’re so in the dark—” Jungkook remarked. Jungkook sighed, his gaze meeting Yoongi's with empathy.

“She needs to feel like she has a say in her own life, like she's not just living for someone else.” Where this newfound wisdom arose, Yoongi did not know. But he was glad for the support of his family men.

Hoseok placed a reassuring hand on Yoongi's shoulder, his expression filled with empathy.

“She knows so much about herbs, remedies, I think she’ll be happy to help Seokjin.” Yoongi's heart swelled with gratitude for Hoseok's insight. He hadn't fully realised the extent of Y/N's knowledge and interests outside of their marriage and that needed to change.

“Don’t tell her just yet.” The right hand man remarked.

“Yes, I want to give her more time to recover before we come back to the sanctuary.” The other family members murmured their agreement, a sense of solidarity and understanding settling over them. After all, at the end of the day it is a happy wife, happy life.

—

But months later, Y/N understood that if there’s even a slight possibility that the scarred leader will grow for better, it would be a painfully long process. She realised so once he returned with his knuckles all bruised and bloodied one night. She tended to them, and he was basking under her touch. Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the humanity in his pain.

Her eyes rolled and a loud sigh followed when she understood what was the cause of his lapse of senses. He had let his frustration and anger take over him, but rather than put it out on everyone else like he was known for, he silently left his office to vent his anger elsewhere. She guided him to sit down after she asked the maid to bring her everything she needed to clean his wounds.

Yoongi watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and excitement under her delicate touch. The feel of her hands, so careful and tender, was both a comfort and a torment. The imagery masking all the darkness that loomed over them, they would fool even the Lord himself that this couple is one of love.

They sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes to him. She avoided him less and less. So why did he have to let his steam off so suddenly?

“You know—” she began, focusing on his other hand now.

“You’re not really setting a good example of “communication is the key ”, now do you?”

Yoongi's eyes flickered open at her words, a hint of guilt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. He couldn't deny the truth in her statement, nor could he easily articulate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within him.

His mind drifted back to the hushed whispers, the concerned looks from Seokjin. Y/N was still fairly weak in terms of her health. Yet, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’ll come to tell him he’s going to be a father. Foolish of him, he knows. Selfish of him, he knows that too.

“I’m sorry, Dove.” He only muttered, forcing a kiss to her sphenoid bone, it was the only affection she rarely allowed him to show. Y/N knew that if she wanted to persuade him that she isn’t a flying risk, she’ll have to allow him to do more. She progressed slowly, with patience and space to breathe everything out.

The reason the young leader needed to vent his anger was obvious to Y/N. She heard the maid that so blatantly spied on everything she did, what she asked for, and whom she talks to on the telephone. Y/N was cautious, yet today, she had to ask for some feminine goods. She understood where his hope for a baby came from, he got himself to believe that once the monthly bleeding did not come the first, second nor the third month.

The young gal, however, knew that this has nothing to do with the possibility of her being pregnant. She still drank the remedy, just to be sure, and for her peace of mind as it bore too many demons already. The fourth month her body decided it’s time to function again and of course the devoted maid reported that right back to her husband whose hope for a child vanished.

“I was hoping we could go see Ma and little Bo Cheng before the wedding, I promised to teach him how to ride a ho—” she began her request carefully. Y/N had managed to negotiate Daiyu’s extended vacation in America with her young son and Kai, yet she couldn’t shake the strong feeling that Yoongi had only allowed such a thing to happen because he felt indebted to her at the moment. Her state was far more delicate than he thought and he desperately wanted to make her happy. The one thing she wanted the most, he couldn’t grant. Freedom.

“Would that make you happy?” Yoongi interrupted. He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window where dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, hesitant smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. It was a fragile thing, easily shattered, but it was real. And in that moment, Yoongi vowed to himself that he would protect that smile, nurture it, and help it grow.

“Yes, it would. Maybe we could also pay a visit to Daiyu—” Y/N sucked her lips in and shyly smiled again. Yoongi nodded slowly. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrests. The weight of their precarious situation pressed down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences hanging over them like a dark cloud.

“I’m not sure about that, sweetling,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Her heart clenched, did he understand her intentions?

“You said you’ll give me the world, Yoongi. Why not this?” Y/N’s smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.

Yoongi’s gaze softened further, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I will consider this trip, but we have to be cautious now. War is looming on the horizon.” He explained, his tone serious.

“What do you mean war? You’ve just won one,” she challenged, her voice laced with disbelief.

“The world is a volatile place, Dove. Our battle was nothing in comparison to what is to come. The world will fight—” Yoongi’s expression darkened, the weight of their past victories suddenly overshadowed by the looming threat of conflict. Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of war, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Until we’re certain there’s no threat, I want us to remain in Korea, my love.” he declared, his final words.

Y/N’s heart sank at his words, but she forced herself to nod, understanding the gravity of their situation. The war threatened to consume them all, and they had to tread carefully if they were to survive. Y/N nodded slowly to his words.

“She wrote to you this morning, didn’t she?” Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’s running out of time. If they were caught up in the chaos, she feared she may never leave this place. And with Yoongi’s resolve to remain in Korea, their window of opportunity grew smaller with each passing moment. It was worth the shot, he wouldn’t let her slip that easily if there’s an actual threat that the world’s will battle.

“She met someone,” Y/N added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty of how Yoongi will react. He, however, already knew. There was nothing that would go past him or so he thought.

"She met someone?" he repeated, his voice tinged with false scepticism. Y/N's heart ached at the doubt in Yoongi's voice, but she held firm in her conviction.

“She’s a widow with a child, who—”

“Happy widow with a child—” she inserted herself into his remark. "She deserves it, Yoongi. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance at love and happiness.”

“Daiyu is no longer tied to the syndicate. You promised not to meddle with her affairs unless she needs help.” She reminded him less gently, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

“I intend to keep that promise.” Lie. He already knew the man who so openly started to court her. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she watched Yoongi's resistance soften, even if it was pretended.

“The rain won’t stop pouring—” Y/N’s voice trailed off, a sombre note creeping into her tone as she glanced out the window at the stormy sky.

“How do you feel today?” Yoongi observed Y/N for a moment, his expression softening as he took in her weary demeanour.

“Better than yesterday.” She replied, her voice carrying a hint of resilience. Yoongi nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at her response. Despite the challenges they faced, he was grateful for every moment of peace they could find amidst the storm.

He noticed the subtle signs of improvement in her appearance. Her cheeks, once sunken and lifeless, now held a hint of colour, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed less pronounced. Her eyes sparkled differently, not with tears as of late. Whatever Seokjin is doing to help her, it is working.

“Have you slept well?” he inquired gently, his voice filled with genuine concern. From Monday to Friday, storms reigned over the hidden valley. Yoongi reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. Her dark hair grew enough to reach past her shoulders since the unfortunate event back in October.

“It wasn't the best, but it was better than before.” Yoongi nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew that even the smallest victories, like a few hours of sleep, were worth celebrating in their tumultuous world. After all the night terrors she endured for months.

“How’s working with Seokjin?” He knew how demanding their roles could be, especially in the midst of ongoing turmoil. Yoongi expected her to sigh just as softly as she always does, her expression to reflect the weight of responsibility, but none of that happened. Y/N smiled at him brightly instead.

Y/N's smile was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, momentarily dispelling the shadows that lingered around them.

“Work has been great. I've been able to help so many people—” she replied, her voice infused with a sense of optimism that Yoongi hadn't heard in a while. As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the weariness that had plagued her in recent months.

“Did you know that punk, Jungkook, pretends to be sick every other day just to swing by?” Y/N’s voice was filled with amusement as she recounted the antics of the youngest of the seven. Though older than her, she did not feel any age difference between them two.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of Jungkook's antics.

"That sounds like him," he remarked, a fond smile playing at his lips. She continued, her words flowing freely as she recounted her experiences while working with Seokjin at the clinic.

“Seokjin has been a wonderful mentor,” she continued, her eyes shining with gratitude. “He’s taught me so much more than we actually studied at school—” Yoongi nodded in agreement, a sense of pride swelling within him as he listened to Y/N's tales of their work at the clinic.

“I remember this one young man who had sustained severe burns on his arms. The sight of his injuries was heart-breaking, but I could see the determination in his eyes to overcome the pain.” Y/N’s voice softened with emotion as she recalled the moment.

"We worked tirelessly to stabilise him, and when he finally regained consciousness, the look of gratitude in his eyes made all the long hours and hard work worth it. It was a reminder of why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place—to make a difference in people’s lives, no matter how small.”

Yoongi listened intently, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not allowing her to pursue her passion for nursing earlier.

He may not be able to undo the past, but he could certainly make sure that she had all the support she needed to thrive in the future. The youngest was right. She needed this, she needed to regain her purpose in her life. To be someone for herself.

He realised how much he had underestimated her need for work, how vital it was for her to have a sense of purpose and fulfilment. There was still hope and goodness.

Yoongi listened to all the stories she had to say as for the first time since forever, there were no tears, no screams, no tension in the air. Just the calm, steady rhythm of their shared breaths.

“You know,” Yoongi began, his voice soft, "I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've accomplished and the progress you’re making. I should have let you do this sooner.”

“Can’t change the past now can we?” He nodded to her remark solemnly, squeezing her hand.

“Tell me more,—” he urged, eager to hear more about her work, her passion. He wanted to be part of her world just like she is part of his, to support her in every way possible.

Y/N smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Well, there’s this little girl named Jang-mi. She’s been coming in for treatment regularly, and despite everything, she's always so cheerful—”

—

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the icy water seep through the fabric. Her breath came in shallow gasps, mixing with the cold air to form small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. She huddled beneath the overhang of a small alley, her body shivering uncontrollably. The once comforting weight of her coat now felt like a burden, soaked and heavy.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. The past few days had been a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She had trusted the wrong people, made alliances that crumbled under the weight of deceit. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into a labyrinth of danger and uncertainty. She couldn’t afford another mistake; the stakes were too high. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, a constant reminder of the life-or-death game she was playing.

A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, casting stark shadows and illuminating the alley in a harsh, white light. For a brief moment, everything was clear and sharp, every detail etched into her memory. That’s when she saw him.

At the mouth of the alley is where he stood , his figure backlit by the brilliant light. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he seemed unfazed by the torrential rain. His presence was as menacing as ever, a dark silhouette against the night. His eyes, however, were what held her captive. They were dark, deep pools of unreadable emotion, reflecting the storm’s fury.

Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was a look she had seen before, one that sent chills down her spine. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey. She knew then, with a sickening certainty, that no matter how far she ran, he would always be one step ahead.

Panic surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pressed herself against the wall, the rough brick scraping her skin through the thin material of her coat. She needed to think, to find a way out, but her mind was a blur of fear and fatigue. The rain continued to pour, the cold seeping into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Yoongi took a step forward, the movement slow and deliberate. His boots splashed in the puddles, the sound muffled by the storm. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. She felt like a trapped animal, cornered with no way out. The alley was a dead end, and Yoongi was blocking her only escape route.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the storm. “You can’t keep running.”

His words were a cold, hard truth that she didn’t want to accept. But she had no choice. Every attempt to escape had led her right back to him, like a cruel game of cat and mouse. She swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the rain. She had to keep fighting, had to find a way to break free from his grip.

“I won’t let you control me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll find a way out.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or admiration for her defiance. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he said, taking another step closer. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

He was close now, close enough that she could see the droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes, the way his clothes clung to his body. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force that seemed to consume all the light around him. She knew she had to act, had to do something before it was too late.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N pushed off the wall and lunged towards him, hoping to catch him off guard. But Yoongi was ready. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip like iron. She struggled, twisting and pulling, but he was too strong.

“Let me fucking go!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Yoongi pulled her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she realised the futility of her struggle. Yoongi’s words were a chilling promise, one that she knew he would keep. She was trapped, caught in a web of his making, with no way out.

The storm raged on around them, but in that moment, all Y/N could feel was the cold, unyielding grip of the man she used to fear, and the inescapable reality of her situation.

Y/N woke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t discern reality from the dream, the vivid images of the rain-soaked alley and Yoongi’s menacing presence still haunting her.

It was a memory that was hidden in the back of her mind to resurface when she’s the most vulnerable. It had happened a few times already, her mind showing her each time she attempted to escape the scarred leader.

She took a deep breath and listened to the mix of crackling fireplace and raindrops outside. His eyes were on her petite physique, his hands holding a book he was reading while she took a well deserved afternoon nap. He put down his reading glasses and ran a hand through his hair, closing the book and turning her attention to her.

“Which one was it this time?”

She turned to see him sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry. The contrast between the Yoongi in her nightmare and the one before her now was stark. Gone was the cold, calculating predator; in his place was a man who genuinely cared for her well-being. He did change a little. Or maybe he was like that before but his selfishness didn’t allow him to show her his bright side.

Her legs moved to his lap when she was asleep, and he gently rubbed circles into her ankles, his touch soothing for once.

“Will you keep me safe?”

Yoongi's expression softened further, his gaze unwavering as he looked into her eyes. He knows that there were moments that haunt her till now. Moments he let happen with his cockiness.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

“I just... I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Just rest, Dove,” Yoongi murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “I’ll be right here.”

After a few silent minutes, Y/N broke the calm silence.

“Can we play the piano?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved to the old piano in the corner of the room. As they sat side by side, their fingers tentatively began to touch the keys. Each note was a delicate thread, weaving together a tapestry of their unspoken emotions. The music became their secret language, a way to say everything they couldn’t put into words.

Every time she did not feel like speaking herself, they played. Until she felt better. Yoongi played with a gentle intensity, his fingers dancing over the keys with practised ease.

He was a better player, so she thought. Afterall, he had had more life to practice.

The medication made her more open to him. Sooner or later she’ll have to get off of it before it will become her only source of happiness. There were days it made her sleep well, drink, eat, breathe and live like the person she used to be. And there were days she sat in front of her vanity mirror knowing this effect is only temporary.

She cannot afford to get off of them while she’s remaining by his side. Her being would not take it and the prospect of freedom would be scarce. It blunted negative emotions which worked in the scarred boy’s favour.

It was working, but it was a question of time when she’ll develop tolerance and they won’t work anymore. That’s why Seokjin is desperately trying to convince Yoongi that he’ll have a way to help her. Permanently.

Yoongi knows that it would be just another mistake he would have to write under his name.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispered again, his words a promise and a plea. And in the quiet aftermath of their duet, she almost believed him.

In that fleeting moment, she wasn’t running, and Yoongi wasn’t chasing. They were simply two souls, lost in the music, trying to find their way back to each other. One more than the other.

His hand moved to cover hers on the keys, their eyes meeting in the stillness that followed. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and the fire a distant backdrop to the intensity of their shared gaze.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Yoongi leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with a different kind of anticipation.

Their faces were inches apart, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. His eyes flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, seeking permission, seeking assurance. Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“Unnie?!” Xiaoli's voice rang out, bright and oblivious. “We need to talk about—”

“Can you keep me safe from my own sister?” She scoffed playfully. His chuckle bounced on her lips as his lips still hovered just a breath away from hers, the paper door swung open with a sudden, sharp creak.

Taehyung stepped in behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Oh. We’re... interrupting, aren’t we?”

Yoongi pulled back slightly, his expression darkening as he turned to face them. Y/N felt the moment slipping away, the fragile connection disrupted.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, his voice strained with barely concealed irritation.

“You invited us to have dinner, Hyung.” Taehyung reminded him, his tone a mix of apology and amusement.

Xiaoli’s eyes darted between Yoongi and Y/N, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh... we’re really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, Kkangpae Min.”

She apologised, still not her but always to him and him only. Y/N forced herself to smile. The woman that her sister became is not the same one she grew up with.

“There was nothing to interrupt, don’t worry,” she waved it off and Yoongi sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

—

The fleeting moment of intimacy with Y/N hung heavily in his mind. Before, during and after the dinner. He was extravagantly close to feel her lips on his again, just for the moment to be swept away.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and forced conversation. Xiaoli and Taehyung tried to lighten the mood, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

Yoongi, for his part, seemed distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every so often, his gaze would meet hers across the table.

“Will you come next week?” Xiaoli asked, sipping her wine.

Y/N, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, looked up.

“Next week?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi, who was already looking at her. She hesitated, unsure of committing to anything he did not allow earlier.

“Yes, Y/N promised Bo Cheng to teach him how to ride a horse, and I have some business to attend to.” Yoongi cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I could teach him,” Said Xiaoli, a bit jealous that their brother wanted Y/N to teach him when she was right there in the hotel.

Once Xiaoli and Taehyung will be with each other for eternity, the family of three then, will take their leave back to China.

The Triad leader attended his own business trips while his wife and children stayed with the “allying” clan.

He doesn’t know. None of them knows what Y/N did to herself, apart from Xiaoli, who herself doesn’t know every detail. They spreaded white lies to cover this “lapse of senses”. A misstep. Y/N hides the fading scar carefully to avoid any explanation. She wished to not tell them, and the kkangpae did not object to her wishes anymore. Whatever she wants, she gets. Usually, most of the time if she’s reasonable and clever about it.

The past months painstakingly helped them to get better. Or so Yoongi thought. Her priority was never to be his good wife, her priority is him thinking she will be his good obedient loving wife and when he won’t expect her to seek freedom anymore — she’ll disappear.

“I don't know about that, honey. You remember that nasty fall you took last year?” Her husband-to-be said nonchalantly. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Fall?—“ she asked, doubting his words.

“What are you talking about?” Xiaoli herself was surprised at his words. She did not recall any falls. Y/N knew Xiaoli isn’t the best rider, but she was decent enough to hold any situation that would make her fall from the horse under control.

“I don’t remember that,—” she said, taking another long sip from her glass.

“You’d certainly remember falling from a horse. Why don’t I know about this, Yoongi?” Said Y/N turning herself to the quiet man.

“I was having a hard time keeping you here as you loved to go for a run back then. It must have slipped my mind—“

“My sister falling from a horse slipped your mind?”

“He did not know Y/N, until a lot later. Right, Hyung?” Taehyung smiled sweetly at her, defending his Kkangpae. As always. Y/N clicked her tongue and gifted Yoongi with a penetrating stare creating another layer of tension in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wants is to mess up their relationship again.

“You’re right, love. I should have told you once I got to know that,” Yoongi admitting guilt is a new trait he acquired these past months.

“How did she fall?” Y/N aimed her question at Taehyung as her sister clearly doesn't remember it.

“It wasn’t probably that bad if I don’t remember it, Unnie. Don’t worry about it anymore—“ the younger female answered before her fiance had the chance to do so.

Y/N sighed loudly but the hand under the table that was gripping her younger sister’s thigh was not seen by her eyes.

—

It was hard to keep focus, especially with Seokjin constantly needing her assistance at work. His stern demeanour and meticulous nature kept her on her toes, but she appreciated the distraction. She knew why she was at his beck and call. Yoongi demanded so. Under any circumstances she ought to be next to Seokjin.

The ambulance in the sanctuary was significantly smaller than the big sanitorium in the town, but there was still some work to do here too.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying her intently.

“The usual,” she murmured, filling today’s report. Seokjin watched her for a moment, then brought the courage to ask.

“Have you been intimate?” Y/N dropped the pen at once and with wide eyes. She stared at him. The question came out of nowhere nor was it called for.

“Wh-what do you mean intimate?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Have you been intimate with Yoongi again?”

“I don’t see how this is your business, Seokjin.” She felt her face flush with heat, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not trying to pry. I’m your friend, but I’m also your doctor, sweetling—,” he said softly.

“Your health and well-being are my concern,” Seokjin explained. “And you know that if something’s affecting you emotionally or physically, it could impact your health.”

Bullcrap, he is in fact prying.

She was silent for a minute, trying to comprehend how he is taking care of her being this late. If she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself, these concerns wouldn’t be as great. But Y/N cannot afford to break havoc. She can’t go on rampage as she wants every single person here to think that she is moving towards being a good obedient wife of the Kkangpae. Even though she wants to scream to each and one of their faces about how much they failed her. How much they hurt her. Yet, patience is the key. Breathe, sleep, eat, endure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then decided to change the topic.

“What about your wife?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a neutral expression. Y/N barely knew the woman. Matter of fact she has seen her maybe three times since the wedding.

“Very much pregnant,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and weariness.

“Oh,” Y/N replied, taken aback. “I didn’t know. Congratulations, I guess.” Here comes another thing that Yoongi managed to keep from her.

“Thank you, my dear,” Seokjin said, a small smile touching his lips. “It’s been… an interesting journey, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,—” Y/N said, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

“Can you imagine yourself on that journey?” Seokjin interrupted, his gaze searching her face.

She pretended that the question took her by surprise, looking down at her hands to not give herself away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. He is testing her. “It’s hard to think about that kind of future with everything that’s going on.”

Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable. But it’s something to consider. Maybe a baby would help you to shush your demons away.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the suggestion, and she forced herself to maintain her composure. “I… I don’t think a baby is the answer, Seokjin. There’s so much I need to sort out first.”

“Sometimes, having something to focus on, something to live for, can make all the difference,” Seokjin said gently.

She nodded, still feeling uneasy about the direction of the conversation. Opting not to give more than she would want to by not answering his remark and going back to finish the report.

“Just know that you have options. And that you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Of course she won’t.

—

Y/N entered the dimly lit room where Yoongi was sitting, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, his expression softened once he looked up from the papers. The office in the sanctuary remained the same apart from the fact that now the young Kkangpae occupies it far more often than before.

He took his glasses off and pushed himself away from the desk creating a space for her to come and stand in front of him, leaning against the massive wooden desk. Her hands felt the warmth of the wood that had been heated by the lamp, reflecting the same heat that radiated between them.

“Did you ask Seokjin to put thoughts into my head?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask him to, but I knew he would at some point try to give you some wisdom. What did he say?”

“That a baby would be the right treatment for me,” she replied, her voice tight with frustration.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, then he closed them and exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dove—“

“Do you think that too?” she asked, searching his face. “That a baby would magically fix everything?”

Yoongi shook his head, stepping up from his chair and closer to her. “No, I don’t. A baby isn’t a solution to our problems—“ she didn’t believe one word that was coming out of this mouth. He wouldn’t break his knuckles this hard if he didn’t want the baby that Y/N took care of not happening anytime soon. Her system was full of herbal remedies. And now that she knows, the herbs flowing in her system are working, she can use that to her advantage.

“But that would make you happy right?” She countered, seeing through him. Softening her mimics to appeal to him.

“Well, yeah, I want a family with you someday—“

“Someday? The bandages on your knuckles says that you’re pretty eager to have it now—” she scoffed and murmured under her nose.

Yoongi’s eyes for once reflected something she couldn’t quite recognise. There was a mix of desperation and longing that flickered there. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her cheek gently.

“Dove, I want us to be happy, truly happy. But I know bringing a child into this world won’t erase your pain or solve our problems. We need to fix ourselves first—” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, my love,” she felt a tear escape her eye, rolling down to where his thumb could catch it. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch because that’s what always softens his edges.

After months, she has learnt what strings to pull to make him move just the way she wants to. Yet, Y/N knows that he isn’t that stupid to believe she suddenly wants to live with him happily ever after.

“I can pour us some wine. We can play the piano after dinner, hm?” He could feel her vulnerability, her heart laid bare before him. Or so he thought as she wanted him to think that. His hand continued to caress her cheek softly, his touch gentle yet laden with unspoken longing she sensed each time he attempted to get closer to her.

She nodded, a small pretentious smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. The tension between them lingered.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We will be good. We just need time with each other.”

He sat first, patting the space beside him, inviting her to join. Her fingers brushed the keys, eliciting a soft, mournful note. A melody that echoed in her mind far too often. An anthem for hurting. Weeping symphony, tears of sorrow.

He became far too respectful towards her boundaries which essentially was ruining all of her plans. Her fingers pressed the keys with delicate touch even when she wanted to smash them rock hard.

“Why this song?” She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her fingers poised above the keys as if weighing his words.

“Do you know what they interpret it as?” She finally said, her voice soft, barely audible above the lingering notes. Her eyes, once masked with a facade of calm, now revealed a flicker of the anguish she carried.

“Tell me,” he flipped the page of the notes book for her to continue the song.

“It’s a tale of unspoken grief, of wounds too deep to heal and shadows that never leave.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as she said that. Part of him understood what message she was trying to leave and part of him wished he’s wrong.

“I view it as love lost and dreams shattered. They say it’s a lament for those who wander through life carrying burdens no one else can see.”

He carefully listened to all her words, all the notes she played, all her feelings she shared. Her fingers moved over the keys, each note a whisper of sorrow.

“The scars I carry inside,—“ His hand reached out to touch hers, a gesture of comfort. Stopping her from playing more.

“Let me help you carry that weight—“

“You created it in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of guilt and realisation flooding his expression. She pulled her hand away.

“The scars I carry, the emptiness I feel, they all trace back to you.”

His mind raced to comprehend the depth of her pain, trying to understand her intentions. It’s not like he ever expected her to say it out loud.

“You created emptiness in me Yoongi—“

He felt his heart clench with guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. It was nothing new. She heard his apologies but she was yet to accept them

She turned back to the piano, her fingers resting on the keys but not playing. “Intentions don’t change the past,” she said softly. “The pain remains—“

“But the future can learn from mistakes.”

“I will. I’ll learn—“ He began before she interrupted him.

“You need to fill the space now.” His eyes lit up listening to her words. In his mind, this was it. The holy grail. In her mind, she was wrapping him around her finger before she would bounce away like a pebble on the pond.

“Heal me if you must.”

These were her last words before the distance between them shrank, the intensity of their emotions drawing them closer. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest that she could almost hear it but Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a delicate brush that spoke of apology, of yearning, and of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her heart cried and the song remained echoing in her mind.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Yoongi felt a warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold shadows of regret. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His thoughts were swirling with one thing only — this was the real beginning of them. And it was the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I N T E R L O G U E

The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf overflowing with dusty tomes and old papers. A large, ornate desk stood in the centre, its surface cluttered with stacks of documents.

Seokjin rarely sends her to this room as they also rarely stay in the hanok the sanctuary has for medical assistance to those who live here.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the worn leather of a chair before settling on a stack of yellowed files that he asked to bring. It was then when her eyes caught the opened crimson red files that laid flat open on the desk. The ones that the doctor forgot to take with him the other time he had to run and tend to the lady of the house in the middle of the night. They stayed there, laid open, for several weeks. Touched by a thin layer of dust on top of it.

Kim Seokjin is renowned in his field of practice. Yet, this was going to be his great mistake. Inside, there were detailed medical records, notes written in a precise, almost mechanical hand. The words on the pages made her stomach churn—phrases like “prefrontal lobotomy,” “behavioural correction,” and “psychosurgical intervention” leapt out at her. She read on, horrified by the cold, clinical descriptions of procedures that seemed more like torture than treatment.

Her hand flew to her mouth to not let the wailing cry away.

Trembling, she pushed the file aside and reached for the next one. Not bearing what they’ve done to her sister. Y/N’s hands shook as she read through the files, each word a dagger to her heart. The clinical detachment with which the procedures were described made her feel sick. These were not just medical records—they were accounts of inhuman experiments carried out in the name of science, or more so — control.

The name on this file was all too familiar, it was Jin’s wife. He must have done it before the wedding as she seemed far too calm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened it, fearing what she might find. The contents were similar—detailed accounts of medical procedures, records of a lobotomy performed in a desperate attempt to “cure” her of what the notes described as “hysteria” and “unmanageable behaviour.”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She stumbled back from the desk, her mind reeling from the revelations. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening as the weight of what she had discovered settled on her shoulders.

The name on the empty file under those made her anxious, hysteric even more as the tag had Min Y/N written on it.

She wiped her tears but they couldn't stop falling.

“Y/N?”

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opiopal · 3 months

Text

Imagine having to explain modern human stuff to solomon, like music and stuff, because I know this old man is still stuck at Mozart and crap, and Mc just cannot believe he is that far behind, like there’s just one day where solomon approaches Mc like

Solomon: mc, who is… Beyoncé?

Mc immediately drops whatever they were holding, effectively breaking it as they gasp and turn around dramatically: BITCH TAKE A SEAT

Solomon, sitting: oh my

Or even better

Solomon: Mc who is this Chappel Roan asmo keeps talking to me about?

Mc: YYYOU DONT KNOW CHAPPEL ROAN??

Solomon: no?-

Mc: YOU OLD BITCH SIT DOWN

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me solomon #obey me scenarios

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klutzyroses · 3 months

Text

IkeVamp HCs: PDA

How do they handle PDA?

Suitors: All

Napoleon

Probably the most normal about PDA.

Handholding? Yes. Hair ruffling? Of course.

The more intimate affection, such as kissing and caressing is reserved for alone time.

Maybe a few cheek kisses wouldn't hurt, an occasional loving whisper in ear at times.

He isn't too over the top with it unless he is trying to tease her.

Because really, seeing her cute blush is worth a little public sappiness. And it would come out of nowhere.

Particularly when he wants a reaction from her, he may initiate it to catch her by surprise, just to fluster her. Not too much though, because he will get embarrassed too.

But in truth, he isn't ashamed of others knowing that he loves her. He will often be found looking at her fondly when she isn't paying attention.

He'll deny he is doing it, but he can't help it. Sometimes he just needs to stop and just...caught up in how much he loves her.

Not that he would tell her that unprompted. That is his little secret for the time being.

Mozart

Um...Public affection? No.

Not likely

If he is out in public with her, even getting him to hold hands would be met with some questioning.

He'd be conscious of appropriate behaviour when out and about, so amorous interactions in front of other people would be out of the question.

His outright avoidance, especially if Y/N initiates, would probably hurt her feelings a little, but it wouldn't be because he doesn't like her touch.

But that's the sort of behaviour he would prefer engaging in away from the prying eyes of the public.

When they're alone, small hand kisses and endearing names are usually his chosen methods.

He would never want her to feel as though he were rejecting her, which is why he would probably address it before it becomes an issue.

Once boundaries are established, its far less of a heartache when he refuses to engage in affectionate behaviour in public.

Leonardo

He is more lowkey about his affection in public, but definitely smooth about it.

One would think they were secret lovers, the way his touches involved brushing her hand surreptitiously, lingering on her skin and leaving it warm.

He is one of the least overt about his affection in public, hence when it happens, it's always so suave and never fails to get his Cara mia's heart racing.

Subtle warm looks, secret touches on her skin, gentle caresses moving her hair from her face.

Those little signs of fondness, brief and subtle as they may be, leave a lasting effect on his amore, even for an instant.

Where he really thrives however, is in his ability to catch her off guard with his words.

Because he is so understated with his physical affection in public, his words pack more of a punch...mostly because they are sudden.

He will drop a casual 'I love you', so easily that at first, it goes over her head, until she does a double take, almost falling over.

He would follow that up by catching her and teasing her about falling for him, causing her to get even more flustered.

A very smooth signor indeed.

Arthur

He is one of the most shameless, second only to Charles.

PDA, for him, is mostly exaggerated to make a point when he is with her.

That point being, he is unavailable and so is she.

He thinks its adorable when she gets flustered over it, so that is, of course, an added bonus.

He is perfectly content announcing their relationship, declaring her to be his love and his darling aloud, to the chagrin of his admirers.

He tends to lean more towards kisses on her hands, winking at her as he does so, feeling his chest swell with pride when he sees that sweet smile on her face, her cheeks tinted a charming pink, earning themselves a quick kiss of their own.

The flirting....the flirting is nonstop, always sweet and maybe just a touch inappropriate with thinly veiled innuendo.

He may tend to overdo it at times, but really, he is just being silly intentionally for her amusement. And maybe to get that blush from her every now and again.

...Although, that is only part of the reason.

He actually loves to touch her and let her know how much he loves her, no matter who is around.

He is aware that he has...a past and sometimes, remnants of that pop up to sour her mood and make her insecure and he hates himself for that. So obviously, he is not shy to show her how much she means to him in front of others.

Theo

Theo's brand of PDA is...definitely different.

He wouldn't be hesitant to claim her in public verbally, calling her his hondje.

Make no mistake, he wouldn't be very touchy feely in front of others, but there will be no doubt that she is his.

Which is why his more physically affection is usually triggered by jealousy or protectiveness.

Sometimes, he can't resist wrapping an arm around her when he senses she is in need of comfort of some kind, be it because someone or something is making her uneasy, just to, in his own Theo kind of way, assure her that he is there.

She is safe with him and he will be damned if she felt any differently when she is out and about with him.

Sometimes, however, when nobody else is really looking, his look will soften when he meets her gaze, or puts a subtle hand on the base of her spine, usually brushing it off as 'directing' her.

Really its just an excuse to touch her, but he would have to be cornered to admit it aloud.

Vincent

The sweetheart was a joy to be around, always.

He is perfectly content holding her hand when he walks with her.

He could be a little socially oblivious at times, flustering his love with rather open declarations of love...wearing a perfectly innocent look on his face.

Sometimes he will take both her hands in his and kiss them, or maybe run his fingers through her hair.

He doesn't really have a reason to give if asked, he just feels like it.

His affection is so sweet, so tender, it may usually result in adoring moments between them where the world seems to disappear and they can only stare at each other, most likely with Y/N being completely taken by his gentle charm, sparkles and flowers surrounding them before someone has to remind them that they are not alone, snapping them out of their enamored stupor.

Put that is the effect Vincent tends to have on his lover, whether other people are around or not.

He may or may not kiss her. It depends on how bold he is feeling that day. Not a deep one, just a quick kiss on her lips, short and sweet.

The more intimate stuff is for behind closed doors. He isn't one to be too inappropriate in public.

He does have the capacity to be embarrassed after all. He may be a bit sheepish if he is called out, pink cheeks and all.

He can't help it. He loves her, that's just a fact.

Isaac

He's...hesitant about it. He's not necessarily averse to it, but...

Well he wouldn't see the reason for being so...overt about their relationship.

Handholding? Well alright, if she really wants to, he will hold her hand while they walk.

But beyond that, he would be a bit more resistant.

Kisses, hugs, the more intimate touches, he does not want others to see that.

So much so that he may even dodge any kisses she may try to give him. Y/N shouldn't take it too personally, even if it does seem as though he were rejecting her, he isn't, honest.

He would scramble to explain that he wasn't ashamed of her in anyway, because it would seem that way after a while.

His affection, however, would be more...subconscious actually.

Playing with the ends of her hair or tracing her palms, little things he wouldn't even be aware he was doing unless pointed out to him.

He's more affectionate when they're alone and it comes as more as a surprise to her, as he would be more confident about just kissing her, or taking the initiative in general, much more so when they're out and about.

Jean

Knowing how Jean is, people would assume that he would be completely against public displays of affection.

The honest truth? They would be correct in some aspects, but...

Not as much as they would think.

Its less because of his aversion to it and more because he has very little idea of how to conduct himself in public as a couple.

Being as socially clueless as he can be at times, he isn't entirely sure what is deemed appropriate and what isn't.

Its somewhat endearing to see him startle his lover by holding her hand seemingly out of nowhere.

He would probably admit that he received advice from the other residents that it was common for lovers to hold hands.

Which is the sweetest thing, but it would seem a bit...disingenuous to Y/N, as though he were doing it because he feels obligated.

But with a bit discussion over boundaries and what was deemed appropriate, a comfortable norm would definitely help him be more at ease and natural with his affection.

He would also be a bit more spontaneous, though always asking for her consent whenever he tries something different.

Dazai

Spontaneous.

He moves to the beat of his own drum, so the opinion of others is...so irrelevant to this man.

When in public with his love, he tends to do whatever comes to mind, no matter how random it may be.

Take her hand count her fingers and compliment them? But of course.

Steal a sweet peck from her and tell her how pretty they looked so he just felt like it? Naturally.

At times it may feel odd, but he has his own way of being affectionate and he doesn't have much impulse control to speak of.

Not since he's had her in his life. He may not be the best at expressing himself...at all, but for better or for worse, she will know she is loved.

Even with his oddball methods of showing it.

He particularly enjoys seeing her blush, so he does go out of his way to surprise her, whether it be by staring at her for prolonged eye contact, just to tell her she is beautiful. Unprompted.

The surprise on her pretty face as her cheeks erupt into red roses brings warmth into his chest as he chuckles, unable to stop himself from caressing one of them.

Anyone watching might think he is random...and he is, but he doesn't pay any mind to that.

Comte

His brand of affection is certainly more restrained. He is a gentleman after all.

He doesn't want to do anything inappropriate in front of others, he wouldn't want to embarrass her.

But he most certainly wasn't shy about wrapping a loving arm around her waist, holding her close to him, his comforting presence washing through her.

He is proud of her and is more than happy to show her off, though only as much as she would allow.

Elegant hand kisses, gracious intertwining of fingers, little acts that are not overboard, but leave little to the imagination.

Where he does go a little overboard is when it comes time to spoil her.

She wants for nothing. Comte's cherie wants for absolutely nothing.

He will gently kiss her forehead when she expresses any concerns, because to make her shine the way she deserves makes him happy.

He worries not over what others think too much, but he is respectful and classy when in the public eye.

Emphasis on when they are in the public eye. Its a different story when they are alone.

Sebastian

Subtle, almost imperceptible, one would miss it if they weren't paying attention.

He is a good deal more reserved about being affectionate when in public.

Perhaps he would take to simply being closer to her, proximity wise.

He may occasionally gently place his hand on her back, usually under the guise of directing her one direction or the other.

Truth be told, one would have to have known Sebastian prior to him being in a romantic relationship to see the difference.

Only then would his more almost secretive touches, that could easily be brushed off as platonic or friendly, be seen in slightly different light.

His demeanor generally isn't all that changed, specially not in public. He really isn't overly affectionate in front of others, but those who know him would definitely be aware that he is more...touchy with her.

Again, nothing too incriminating to the untrained eye, but so long as she understands the sentiment, that's all that really matters anyway.

Vlad

The romantic gestures he would gravitate towards would be more...innocent. Sweet, almost a bit childish in an endearing way.

Playing with her fingers, intertwining his between them, tucking her hair away from her lovely face.

His affection, in public, was more reminiscent of an admirer simply in awe of her.

He is devoted to her and her alone, and sometimes he may just act in the moment, bringing their linked fingers to his lips to his and pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. And of course, slip a flower or two into her hair.

He especially likes to profess his affection with words as much as actions.

Softly whispered words of adoration will often make their way to her, wrapping her in their warmth, even if he isn't actually touching her.

He isn't entirely conscious of how others perceive this, nor does he care all that much. Sometimes he just wants to bask in his love for her, take a moment to be grateful for her and show her that gratitude in full.

Faust

His brand of public affection often sent the message that Y/N was his very close assistant than his lover.

Its not often that it happens to be honest.

In contrast to his oddball sire Vlad and the overly affectionate Charles, he is much muted and covert about being affectionate.

He is quite blunt about it as well, if he is asked, probably by the children he tends to care for, if Y/N is his girlfriend.

He will just say yes, with a completely straight face and leave it at that.

Though the children themselves will be confused, as their fairly naive ideas of grand displays of love will be very much absent when they observe Faust and Y/N.

He would only indulge them by going to kiss her forehead if they didn't stop pestering him about it.

He just doesn't see the appeal of behaving in public how he behaved in private.

Only she needs to see his more vulnerable, genuine side. She's the only one who deserves to.

Charles

Umm...

If left unchecked, he could and would get carried away.

He would not care who is there, he can't keep his hands to himself.

Normally, he sticks to hand holding and cuddling.

But sometimes he'll sneak his hand on her thigh, maybe starts kissing her with reckless abandon.

He has no qualms about sneaking his hand up her dress while does and if she doesn't stop it, they may just start getting a bit wild.

Clothes might start dropping if Charles is left to do as he pleases. Its not so much out of lack of care of what others think, he isn't even thinking about, its more because he just wants to bury her in his love and drown in hers, no matter where and when.

And the mouth on him sometimes...

He is shameless about flirting with her too, oscillating between sugary heartfelt confessions of adoration and more...daring, lascivious declarations.

None of which are discreet.

In the slightest.

Galileo

He doesn't.

The man doesn't do like that.

Frankly, if someone was told explicitly that Galileo and Y/N were a couple, they wouldn't know it by looking at them.

Maybe the most affection seen from him would be standing close to her. Maybe if his guard is down, his face may soften when looking at her. But that's it. Nobody is seeing more than that.

Many people from the outside would question the perceived coldness of the relationship.

The couple would often seem more like acquaintances than lovers.

She would probably be touching him more than he is touching her to be honest.

But in private...that is not the case.

He prefers to keep his more tender side for her and her alone.

When it's just the two of them, he would indulge her with gentle caresses and tender words.

He is very different with her when it's just them, versus when they are out in public.

Drake

Drake doesn't care a great deal about what others think. He does what he wants when he wants to.

He doesn't behave that differently with her in public than he does in private.

Sure, he wouldn't jump her for risky trysts in the open, not unless she was up for it, but he wouldn't balk over kissing her in front of others. He doesn't do it often but he wouldn't be against it.

His boldness goes as far her timidity allows, really.

He's not so much into hand holding as much as he likes giving her head pats, caressing her face and giving her hugs and forehead kisses.

Especially headpats and forehead kisses.

He wouldn't go overboard but needless to say, he is rather affectionate in public. Unabashedly so.

He also flirts and teases rather openly, if only to see her flustered. Whispering in her ear, cornering her against surfaces, he does not care who sees. If called out, he will simply laugh it off.

He cares more about doting on his fawn than anybody else and their opinions anyway.

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somerandomdudelmao · 1 year

Note

Hi!! i would like to ask about the are the difference between roughanimator and toonboom, like which one you prefer or their pros and cons?

Oooooh, I can tell you about that>:D

Right. So.

RoughAnimator is like this:

It's simple, not heavy, and you understand at a glance how to use it. Nice and easy.

But! There aren't any really advanced features. Only the most basic stuff.

____________

And ToonBoom kind of like this:

You can do anything with ToonBoom. I mean ANYTHING.

Whatever you think of, there's a feature here. Infinite canvas, thousands of options, 2D and 3D and customizable camera. You can make a vector or a raster, you can build a rocket there, you can find a cure for all diseases, you can resurrect yourself like Jesus, because the interface of this program will definitely kill you as soon as you get into it.

This is the main drawback, by the way. Without at least a few hours of tutorials, all you can effectively do with ToonBoom is cry. There are hundreds of buttons. And thousands of hotkeys that you can play Mozart or play on your nerve cells. Because one awkward move can get you into a "oh shit, I did something and now the pentagon is looking for me" situation.

_____________

I'm not going to lie, I like RoughAnimator better. It's a nice program that's good enough for animatic. But if I want to do something epic, I use ToonBoom

#Person asked for some professional opinion #I did a standup #👍

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hai7ani · 10 months

Text

橘 (TACHIBANA/JÚ) haitani rindou

nsfw (no smut), complicated relationships, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, wounds & abuse please proceed with caution

thank you for 300 followers! i thought i might as well upload this today ^^

masterlist | playlist

part iii / your lips, my lips; apocalypse

2004

Rindou had experienced true homesickness when he was 16.

Middle of December when the snow had just started falling in Tokyo, and he is home alone, disassociating to some Mozart playing at max volume along some other things (or thoughts) while laying flat on his bed. If Ran was home to hear the kind of music he is currently playing, he'd be a dead man by then.

But he doesn't care about Ran, no. He cares about you. You're the one who's been plaguing his mind -- so sticky and frustrating -- after he'd left your pouty figure back home in Kanagawa with kiss-swollen lips 5 months ago. You and your stupid, pretty lips that has taken his first kiss, your laugh that feels a lot more effective than those pills his Mother tells him to swallow for his migraine, your soft, shaky hands when they reached up to cup his cheeks as you open your mouth wider to allow his tongue in . . .

Requiem in D Minor reaches its peak, and he finally finds it in him to turn the volume down with a click of his tongue -- he's to become a madman if he continues this any further.

It's been 2 years since the boy's moved up to Tokyo alone with his brother. Rindou doesn't think he's struggled much in adapting to the lifestyle -- in fact, it suits him a lot more than he's expected it to. He likes to think he's adapted to it sooner than Ran, although the older seems to be much more put together than he is -- judging from the listening habits and different lifestyles both brothers have chosen to adopt in this big city as two young teenagers -- because Ran is actually doing something useful right now: staying back at school for extra Physics lessons and then attending his Track and Field club meeting after class, and Rindou is here: still dressed in his uniform, still not yet finished his McDonald's that he'd abandoned at the dining table before retreating back into his room to sulk because he's been missing a certain somebody a little too much.

He admits that things are more fun in the city -- the nightlife that he finds himself getting excited to when walking past the centre of Roppongi to get back home after night class, easily accessible skate parks that he frequents with a few friends after school in his half-buttoned uniform, the drifting culture he's taken up after spending most of his savings on a second-hand MX-5 to drift illegally on weekends where he doesn't have to get up early . . . It is all so different and fresh, and Rindou thinks he hasn't felt this good while having fun before.

But you wrote him a letter 2 months ago for his birthday and he still hasn't replied to it yet.

I still think about our kiss in summer. I also miss you a whole lot. See you next summer, and again, happy 16th, 竜胆.

You'd wrote it in the ending paragraph of your lengthy four-paged letter -- all the things you wished he was there back home to experience together with you, your stupid little thoughts flashing by your head while laying flat in bed at 3 in the morning, your already-planned new year resolutions that he knows you're never going to finish despite your sudden burst of motivation, recent hobbies that you've started picking up due to extreme boredom now that December is here and everything outside is cold and slippery -- and Rindou finds himself thinking about you and you and you over and over again.

Summer of 2004 -- when he finished his can of beer and crushed it in his hands as he silently admired you through the curtains of his eyelashes. When you caught his eyes and bit your lip before shifting closer to him on the floor while fixing the loose strap of your tank top. When he inched closer to your face and smirked, before puffing out a small, warm air that smells like beer with a hint of peppermint over your cupid's bow.

When you blushed and decided to be bold by placing both hands on his sturdy chest as you knocked your forehead against his very warm and red cheek. When he looked you in the eye one last time before pressing his dry, boyish lips tight against yours that tasted a lot like your favourite honeydew flavoured lip balm and he'd smiled into it.

Sweet, peachy, and the kiss wasn't perfect; it was merely just a quick peck, but it was so lovely that he finds himself growing warm at the memory of your eyelids fluttering open when he pulled away, only to lean back in and peck at your lips once or twice more before shoving in a tongue and getting you all worked up in the process, because he just couldn't help it -- you were so addictive. You were so pretty.

You are so pretty.

The boy sits back up in one swift motion and looks out the window to his right. He stares down at the bustling, happening city below from the comfort of his high rise.

A train passes by through the underground tunnels of Roppongi. Pristine, white snowflakes falls heavily from the sky and lands on the ground before slowly piling up on the sidewalk as a young child happily tugs on her mother's hand while pointing at it. The yolk of the sun is hidden behind thick clouds, but it is still bright outside.

The wires connect. Stars align. Clouds fade away.

He blushes.

Rindou wants to kiss you again.

He glances at your crumpled letters still splayed across his desk for the past 2 months, and the boy comes to a realisation.

Things are fun in Tokyo.

Life isn't.

And the next thing he knows, he is shoving a bunch of winter clothes and a few bags of expensive taiyaki into his black Jansport, before leaving a quick note on a yellow Post-it to Ran on the coffee table while finishing up his leftover McDonald's.

Going back home for Xmas *a badly drawn Christmas tree*

Will be back before the new years... or not

Depends on my mood. C u

🖕 - ur 弟

He throws the pen down, not before doodling yet another huge, ugly and messily drawn middle finger on the remaining space in the Post-It, and he slaps it on the table.

Rindou leaves for Kanagawa in the earliest train at 5 in the evening with your letters folded, safely tucked into the left pocket of his puffer jacket with a bag of warm chocolate chip muffins placed into the confines of his jacket to keep warm on the ride home. An elderly lady sitting beside him points it out with a teasing laugh and a silly pat to his forearm.

"Who are these for?"

He says it with a lopsided smile.

"My girlfriend."

Three more days to Christmas and Rindou is standing outside of your school gate.

He'd came straight after he arrived, not bothering to phone his parents or inform his brother of his safe arrival back home. Seeing you seemed to weigh far heavier to him, judging from how he's waiting patiently in the cold for you to get out of night class. Rindou knows of your schedule well -- he's memorised it ever since you showed it to him the last time he visited home.

"Fuck," he cusses, nose growing redder and patience growing thinner with each passing moment that you don't appear at the entrance. "Did I get the wrong time?" He murmurs to himself and pulls out his phone to check. Did he perhaps be smart that day and snapped a photo of your timetable? But he's sure you finish at 8 on Tuesdays, with Math being the last period -- he remembers you complaining about it because you have always been one to hate Math, while him on the other hand, is an absolute beast at it.

White snow slowly covers his two-toned hair as he shuffles his weight from one foot to another, and a deep crease forms between his brows after realising that his stupid ass did not, in fact, be smart that day and snap a photo of your timetable.

Rindou clicks his tongue. He's contemplating on leaving -- to turn around and just go over to your house right now. Maybe you are actually home this whole time as he's stuck here pondering his thoughts and you're getting bored out of your mind.

He thinks he cannot waste another moment to see you.

And after a few more analysing and breaking down on what would be the best option to do, a voice calls out for his name. A girl's voice -- smooth and filled with so much excitement, it seems -- and he turns around to look at her.

Himeko approaches him from the entrance -- dressed in her cozy uniform and a heavy book bag is slung over her shoulder. "Rindou, you're home." She jogs up to him, leg warmers falling off her calves as she runs and stops just right in front of him. There's a wide grin stretched across her face as she stares up at the much taller boy and doe eyes squints a little from the lamppost shining down into them. Light snowflakes cover her eyelashes and she simply dusts them away with a little smile.

"Oh, hey." Rindou blinks. He then turns on his heel to head towards your house and Himeko follows along with a finger hooked onto a strap of his Jansport. "Why are you back home? It's not Summer." She states, and she soon realises that the last sentence had sounded a little stupid -- so she attempts to make it less awkward for her by asking more questions and attempting to converse with Rindou, to which the boy doesn't oppose on answering.

"It's the last week before winter break." She states while picking up her pace behind him to catch up with the boy's wider steps.

"I know. How's school?" He asks, his vacant hand shoving down into the pocket of his jacket to keep warm but Himeko nudges his elbow. He looks down and sees that she is handing him her book bag.

Rindou fishes the hand out to get a hold of the strap and he slings it over his shoulder -- just as habit allows. Himeko seems delighted at this, as she crosses her hands behind her body and starts skipping beside him on the sidewalk. But a brown bag hanging off his left hand catches her attention and curious hands starts inching towards it without him knowing.

"Just fine. It's been a little boring though, even the teachers are getting ready for the holidays." She replies. Rindou simply hums at it. He's never been great at conversations -- always the listener with you as his speaker.

And he feels a sudden jolt at the bag in his hand. He snatches it back quick, eyes sharp and movements turning defensive as he stares at the girl who is clearly shocked at his behaviour over a bag of chocolate chip muffins.

". . . What?" He clears his throat and stops in his tracks. He's getting irritated. Himeko tilts her head to the side. She points at the bag of muffins with a pointer, "Are those for me? I like muffins."

"'S for Mom. She wanted me to buy 'em before coming back." And with that, Rindou hands Himeko back her own bag to take. He doesn't say anything further, and he shoves its strap back into her hands, the weight pushing her arms down and she furrows her brows at his suddenness.

It's so awkward. But she is Himeko -- always the peacemaker of the group -- and she decides to clear the atmosphere with a change of topic.

"Ran didn’t come home with you?"

Rindou remains quiet for a while -- obviously feeling a little pissed, but ultimately, he decides to reply to her anyway.

"Nah, he's still in Tokyo. I came back without him."

"Why’d you come home then?"

"I just missed Mom's cooking, 's all." He shrugs. A lie, but Himeko doesn't need to know that. Though she beams at his response, "I went to your house for dinner yesterday. Your Mom's cooking is way too good." My house, dinner?

"Did Y/N go, too?" He asks a little too quickly, the steady beat of his chest growing quicker at the thought of you most probably sitting on his chair at his dining table while enjoying his mother's cooking before finding ways to sneak up to his room and mess with his DJ set that he'd purposely left home for you to play with. He smiles a little at the possible scene playing in his head.

The smile on Himeko's face falters a little at his sudden burst of emotion with the mention of you, but she fixes herself fast and shoots back a response just as fast.

"No, her father came home on Sunday. I haven't seen her since."

Rindou turns his head to look at the shorter girl beside with a worried expression -- a total contrast to all that he's felt just now. He stops in his tracks, and Himeko stops too -- just two steps ahead of him -- with the smile on her face completely gone now.

"What's wrong?" She asks, face full of genuine concern.

"What do you mean?" Rindou frowns.

Himeko tilts her head to the left, trying to grasp what exactly that he's asking, so she repeats her words from earlier by talking slower.

"Y/N's dad came home on Sunday . . . ? She hasn't attended classes today or yesterday. I haven't seen her since she left to pick her father up from the airport. That was Sunday. But we know how it is. Her dad's probably just looking for some family bonding time with her."

Rindou scowls at it.

No, you don't.

Though she doesn't notice it, she shifts a little awkwardly at Rindou's visible shift in mood.

"Bye." He bids curtly and he leaves Himeko behind. The boy quickens his steps and turns into the road that leads straight to your house. He can see the building from a distance and Rindou can faintly make out that the lights are on.

You must be home.

"Rindou? Where are you-" Himeko calls out, but she pauses after realising the road that he's taking. He hears faint footsteps behind him but he doesn't reply -- his beating heart way too frantic for him to say anything at this point, let alone actually think for a response.

Her words play in his head over and over again, and it gets so overwhelming to the point that he has to take a breather and fix his unruly hair that's starting to block his vision.

Your dad is home.

A step closer to your house. Snow crunches beneath his sneakers.

Your dad is home.

The gate is open. He sees the quick wagging of a fluffy tail just beside the metal.

Your dad is home.

Inu-sama sits by the gate and upon sensing his owner's childhood friend's arrival, it barks at him. And it doesn't stop barking despite Rindou being someone who it has grown so familiar with over the years of your childhood and Inu-sama's place in your family.

"Hey, bud." He reaches down to pat your old Shiba, combing down its fur and giving it a few belly rubs before reaching into the pocket of his Jansport to fish out a little treat for your dog. He's not forgotten its treats despite leaving the house in a rush. "Where's 姉さん?" He asks -- as if Inu-sama could speak -- and it can, actually. It barks again to the door after his question and Rindou takes it as a hint that you are probably inside.

But the gate is open. Weird.

So he kicks off his shoes by the entrance and brings a nervous knuckle up to knock on the door. His hearts thumps fast in his chest, breath stuttering in his throat -- not because the thought of you possibly opening the door for him makes him giddy, but because the thought of your father possibly opening the door for him makes him weak. Scared.

Rindou is scared.

Everyone is afraid of your father. Even Ran who is known to have no fear towards anyone in his life -- not even his elders -- is scared of your father. But everyone except Himeko, though. Somehow through her rose-tinted eyes she still holds on to the idea that your father is just like any other: a man who leads and a man who brings structure. But you can't blame her, for she hasn't seen your father in ages. She hasn't seen the man he has become.

And Rindou knocks again, but still, no response, so he tries his luck by twisting the knob. It's unlocked and he pushes it open. Perhaps it'll earn him a black eye for attempting to enter your house without your father's approval, but he'll risk it just this once.

"Y/N?"

He's half-expected the house to be empty -- from the state of your unlocked door and gate to the awfully quiet and icy cold atmosphere of your house. Rindou doesn't think there's anyone in the house.

That is until he looks down at the sound of a sob.

The monster has done it again.

You're crouching on the floor, surrounded by what seems to be broken shards of glass and a few blood stains tainting the marble white of your floor.

He bolts towards you in an instant, not before throwing off his bag by the foot of the door and stepping over the sharp glass to reach over to you on his sock-clad feet. They cut into his flesh and he hisses a little at the sting, but he ignores the pain, and he diverts his attention back all on you.

You're not moving from your position, but he can tell that you're crying. You're hurt -- the cuts and dark bruises that's starting to swell on your arms and legs cracks his heart at the sight, and you're cold -- God, you're so, so cold when he scoops your frail body up and into his arms, away from the wrecked floor.

Weak, shaky hands immediately move to grip on his shoulder, nails sinking into the flesh as you suck in a deep breath upon realising that there's someone holding you -- someone is touching you. You panic a little, a whine escaping your throat and you try pushing him away with all the strength that you can muster. You hadn't realised that it is Rindou. You hadn't realised that he has entered the house. It doesn't hit you that Rindou is back home in the middle of December. You continue fighting against in his arms with more tears springing up to your bloodshot eyes.

"Stop, Dad. Please. It hurts."

That alone sends the boy into a shaking mess.

But he gathers himself, and he attempts to ground you by sitting you both on the couch and pressing your cold body into his warm chest. He buries his nose in your neck and kisses the skin gently, feeling the quick pulse of your heartbeat against his lips while rubbing warm circles on your upper back -- a means to soothe you, a means to tell you that he's here. "'S me, babe. It's me." He says it so softly -- right next to your ear, only meant for you to hear, meant for you to listen.

You shudder a little at the sudden warmth invading your skin and into your bones, and it then strikes you that the person holding you is Rindou. Rindou is home. The peppermint of his smell that you've long grown to love makes its way in grounding your senses and you eventually relax in his secure hold.

You're safe now.

Rindou is home. You are not alone anymore.

And then you start crying again.

"Where's the bastard? Your mom too." He asks, tone rough but he's gentle when cleaning away the blood on your lips from being busted by no doubt a harsh strike and he wipes it off on his jacket. You hold the other hand of his on your cheek to kiss the palm. "The airport. He says he's going back to the States. Just after a day." Your voice is shaky as you try your hardest to explain to him clearly amidst your choked sobs, "Mom is still in Osaka." And he doesn't make you speak any further after that -- he simply nods at your reply and opting to hug you close to his chest and calm your cries instead.

Rindou sighs angrily at your answer, a deep breath escaping his nose. You only bury yourself closer to him at it.

So your father did actually leave you in here all alone like this and went back to continuing his career. He wonders just how long you have been staying like this, in this state.

He looks around the house to make sure the man is actually gone and his purple eyes don’t miss the heavy stacks of medical textbooks and printed samples of medical reports scattered all over the coffee table. Your test paper -- Math, Tachibana Y/N, Fail -- sits atop of the books, the papers crumpled and a little torn at the sides. The large frames that hangs on the walls of your living room -- none of them are yours, all are his -- are all displaying professional photos of him attached with the many titles and prizes awarded to him.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji, PhD in Oncology.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji, board member of Harvard Medical School.

Doctor Tachibana Hiroji.

Tachibana Hiroji.

What a man of noble character and high intellect, but is such a monster behind closed doors to his only daughter, his family.

Rindou turns his head back, and he’s gentle with you - soft hands wiping away the free-flowing tears and light bloodstains off your face.

And he decides that he doesn’t want to see you like this anymore.

Rindou presses his forehead to yours.

"I'll kill him, you know?"

"No, don't. You'll-"

"I'll kill him. I promise.”

Himeko stands behind the two of you -- scared behind the couch -- with eyes so wide and a heart pumping blood so fast underneath the bones of her chest that she thinks she might die.

But a broken sob from you on the couch breaks her out of her bubble.

She looks around the house.

She looks at your state.

She takes it all in.

"But we know how it is. Her dad's probably just looking for some family bonding time with her."

Oh.

tags: @nana-osakii

this took so long omg but i had time today to finish it so here it is ^^

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading :3

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