#and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me

[sprintingowl]

Deadball

Deadball Second Edition is a platinum bestseller on DrivethruRPG. This means it's in the top 2% of all products on the site. Its back cover has an endorsement from Sports Illustrated Kids.

It's also not an rpg I'd heard about until I discovered all of these facts one after another.

I was raised in a profoundly anti-sports household. My father would say stuff like "sports is for people who can't think" and "there's no point in exercising, everything in your body goes away eventually." So I didn't learn really any of the rules of the more popular American sports until I was in my mid twenties, and I've been to two ballgames in my life. I appreciate the enthusiasm that people have for sports, but it's in the same way that I appreciate anyone talking about their specific fandom.

One of the things that struck me reading Deadball was its sense of reverence for the sport. Its language isn't flowery. It's plain and technical and smart. But its love for baseball radiates off of the pages. Not like a blind adoration. But like when a dog sits with you on the porch.

For folks familiar with indie rpgs, there's a tone throughout the book that feels OSR. Deadball doesn't claim to be a precise simulation or a baseball wargame or anything like that---instead it lays out a bunch of rules and then encourages you to treat them like a recipe, adjusting to your taste. And it does this *while* being a detailed simulation that skirts the line of wargaming, which is an extremely OSR thing to do.

For folks not familiar with baseball, Deadball starts off assuming you know nothing and it explains the core rules of the sport before trying to pin dice and mechanics onto anything. It also explains baseball notation (which I was not able to decipher) and it uses this notation to track a play-by-play report of each game. Following this is an example of play and---in a move I think more rpgs should steal from---it has you play out a few rounds of this example of play. Again, this is all before it's really had a section explaining its rules.

In terms of characters and stats, Deadball is a detailed game. You can play modern or early 1900s baseball, and players can be of any gender on the same team, so there's a sort of alt history flavor to the whole experience, but there's also an intricate dice roll for every at bat and a full list of complex baseball feats that any character can have alongside their normal baseball stats. Plus there's a full table for oddities (things not normally covered by the rules of baseball, such as a raccoon straying onto the field and attacking a pitcher,) and a whole fatigue system for pitchers that contributes a strong sense of momentum to the game.

Deadball is also as much about franchises as it is about individual games, and you can also scout players, trade players, track injuries, track aging, appoint managers of different temperaments, rest pitchers in between games, etc.

For fans of specific athletes, Deadball includes rules for creating players, for playing in different eras, for adapting historical greats into one massively achronological superteam, and for playing through two different campaigns---one in a 2020s that wasn't and one in the 1910s.

There's also thankfully a simplified single roll you can use to abstract an entire game, allowing you to speed through seasons and potentially take a franchise far into the future. Finances and concession sales and things like that aren't tracked, but Deadball has already had a few expansions and a second edition, so this might be its next frontier.

Overall, my takeaway from Deadball is that it's a heck of a game. It's a remarkably detailed single or multiplayer simulation that I think might work really well for play-by-post (you could get a few friends to form a league and have a whole discord about it,) and it could certainly be used to generate some Blaseball if you start tweaking the rules as you play and never stop.

It's also an interesting read from a purely rpg design perspective. Deadball recognizes that its rules have the potential to be a little overbearing and so it puts in lots of little checks against that. It also keeps its more complex systems from sprawling out of control by trying to pack as much information as possible into a single dice roll.

For someone like me who has zero background in baseball, I don't think I'd properly play Deadball unless I had a bunch of friends who were into it and I could ride along with that enthusiasm. However as a designer I like the book a lot, and I'm putting it on my shelf of rpgs that have been formative for me, alongside Into The Odd, Monsterhearts, Mausritter, and Transit.

[viaxslz]

₊‧ʚ・ㅤ☕️ ⠀ٝ ⠀SKZ HAVING A CRUSH

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 gn!reader, cw: most of these are from me and my friends experiences having a crush TT,highkey rushed im sick please bear with me (💔),not proofread :P

BANG CHAN

He’s probably the most secretive about it. In facts his friends didn’t know until they caught him stealing secrets glances from you and the small smile on the corner of his Lips whenever he’s talking with you.

LEE KNOW

An obvious one. Lee know doesn’t mind following you everywhere you go like a lost puppy. As long as he is in touch with you, he’s satisfied. He doesn’t care about the stares he gets from the female gender. “Isn’t he ashamed he’d following her like that?” A girl whispered to her friend.

CHANGBIN

Zones out whenever he stares at you. Admires your smile and laugh. He seriously ask himself the question “why can’t everyone be like l/n y/n… I mean, she’s smart, good looking, cute, friendly and sweet, pulls both boys and girls.. she’s basically everything a guy would want” he soliloquies to himself. He finds himself becoming best friends with the gym just so he can impress you.

HYUNJIN

Lowkey obsessed with you. If you miss a day of school trust me he’d be the most grumpiest man on earth. He’ll be hella dramatic. He refuses to eat, talk or look at Anyone else except the wall.

HAN

Also The obvious one. He had accidentally jokingly confessed, a total amount of 27 times but you’re to oblivious to think he’s being Fr. He’s always trying to touch you. He finds excuses to hold onto your hands or stroke your hair and cheeks because it just looks so soft ><

FELIX

Felix always tries to be a sunshine around you. Finding multiple ways to get your attention or to make you notice him. He absolutely hates it whenever he sees you around other people more specifically guys. His hand always itch to strangle them (grrr). You probably won’t care right?

SEUNGMIN

He’s always admiring from afar. Bro is too afraid that if he gets close to you he might say or do something embarrassing. He would always have a smile tugging the corner of your lips whenever your name is mentioned, he sees you around or sits in the same room as you.

JEONGIN

The type to force his friends into passing the direction you’re heading to. He doesn’t care about their protest. Nothing is stopping him from stalking you. What the flip is hard to get? He doesn’t know a damn thing About that.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor

[tojisun]

smoking as a form of flirting i guess? dark simon

simon finds the poor cashier he fancies mouthing at a cig, still unlit, outside, all bloodied and wet from the rain as you watch the police roll out after a messy mugging. he is struck, then, and this was not the way simon imagined himself realizing that he seriously wants to finally talk to you, but he stalks close, boots crunching against the asphalt.

you stare up at him, flinching in your surprise because where the hell did this tank of a man come from— but simon commends the way in which you suppressed the recoiling tendrils of your panic, your fists tightening as you grip the sleeves of your jacket. he stops in front of you, watching, and you glare back at him.

he brings his hand up from the inside of his pocket, letting the street lights glint from the metal casing of his lighter, before flickering it on. the flame bathes you in warm light, the fire rippling underneath the cold spray of the midnight rain, and simon’s breath gets stuck in his lungs.

you are beautiful, have been beautiful, but seeing you close, having you close, is a different type of blessing. he feels his greed bloat from within him, liquifying his spine, and simon bites the need to possess you before it could raze him because he does not want to spook you or chase you away.

(do you know how difficult it was to follow your trail? from manchester to bristol—he wonders if you would appreciate the lengths he went through to find you once more.

he wonders if you would appreciate his gift—bilyk, all beaten up for what he’s put you through.)

he holds the lighter up, waiting for you to accept his offering. you do so with caution.

simon watches raptly as you stick the butt of the cig to the flame, letting its blaze take. it takes a moment before the end lights up, and then you are pulling it out and catching it between your lips. you take a deep drag, your eyes fluttering close as you do so, and your shoulders relaxing from their tension like a taut rubber easing up from its stretch.

his knees buckles as you let the smoke trickle from your mouth with a soft sigh. you sound so happy, humming in your quiet delight, and simon almost rumbles in pleasure when you finally blink your eyes open to look at him.

you pinch your stick between your fingers, pull it out, and murmur, “thank you.”

simon grunts, not truly trusting his own words, and stuffs his lighter away again. you shuffle as simon remains close and he deliberately moves slow to show you what he’s doing—digging out his own pack from his pockets to slip one stick out for himself.

he would have lit up with his lighter, but then you were moving close, shifting from where you have been watching anxiously.

simon pauses, curious, but all you say is a sweet, “allow me.”

you tip your head up, offering the end of your cigarette for him to use. simon clenches-unclenches his free hand before mirroring your actions. he places his stick in his mouth and leans forward to light it up from your own.

you are so close to him now—closer than he’s ever allowed himself to be—and simon devours every detail of your face, like the scar on the corner of your mouth or the blooming bruise on your cheek or the way your eyes are so wide as you stare up at him.

he sees himself in the pools of your irises and simon feels.

his stick lights up and he reluctantly pulls away.

“thanks,” he says, still hovering close.

you hum, not moving back too.

the burn of the smoke does nothing to calm him down.

he finds that it’s alright—you shyly asked him if he would like to come back with you to your place, after all. and he knows that if he had been a dangerous man, if it was anyone else, you would’ve been in severe trouble and this would’ve ended differently, but simon?

you can trust him, he promises.

after all, all that he’s done, and all that he will do, they are all for you.

(…all for him to have you.)

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You get caught by your brother in a make-out session with Mattheo.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Mattheo Riddle x reader

Harry pulled the invisibility cloak tighter around himself and Ron as they crept down the dimly lit corridor. They were supposed to be pranking Draco, but Harry had gotten distracted when he saw two figures pressed close together near a shadowy alcove.

He squinted. Was that…? His heart dropped as the pieces clicked into place. You. And Mattheo Riddle. Kissing.

His stomach churned, and before he could stop himself, Harry threw off the cloak.

“What the—?!” he sputtered, his voice cracking.

You and Mattheo jolted apart, your face going beet red. Mattheo, on the other hand, just smirked, running a hand through his hair like this was all part of the plan.

“H-Harry! I—it's not—” you stammered, your words failing as your brother stared at you, wide-eyed and betrayed.

“WHAT ARE YOU—HOW DID THIS—” Harry’s voice was an octave too high. He pointed between you and Mattheo, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“Mate, you didn’t know?” Ron asked, blinking in confusion. “I thought you knew.”

Harry whipped around, staring at Ron in disbelief. “You KNEW about this?!”

Ron scratched the back of his neck. “Er… yeah? Thought it was obvious.”

“OBVIOUS?!” Harry’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head. He turned back to you, his voice taking on a melodramatic tone. “Mum and Dad are not going to like this. Not one bit.”

You bit your lip, glancing at Mattheo, who was still smirking like he had just won the Quidditch World Cup. “Er, Harry… they know.”

Harry froze, his expression collapsing into sheer horror. “They WHAT?! This is a betrayal of the highest order!”

You bite your lip, fighting off the embarrassment flooding your chest. “Harry, are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” His voice went impossibly higher, and his hands waved wildly in the air. “I knew it! I knew when you were put in Hufflepuff you’d be too naive! Too trusting!”

You crossed your arms, the sting of his words making you bristle. “Excuse me? Naïve? That’s a bit offensive, don’t you think? And can you please calm down? We’re not doing anything wrong!”

Harry threw his hands up dramatically. “Doing nothing wrong? With him?”

Mattheo’s grin only widened as he looked at Harry, clearly enjoying the situation far more than he should. “Careful, Potter. You’ll burst a vein.”

Harry glared daggers at Mattheo, his fists clenched at his sides. "If anyone’s bursting a vein, it'll be you when I'm done with you, Riddle!"

You stepped forward, cutting off Harry before he can go any further, your own frustration bubbling up. "Harry, stop it!" you snapped, standing between the two of them. "I’m not some damsel you need to rescue! I can make my own choices!"

Harry faltered, looking at you like you’ve just slapped him. "But he’s—he’s Riddle! He’s trouble!"

Mattheo, still leaning casually against the wall, tilted his head slightly, the smirk never fully leaving his lips. "Potter, she’s a big girl. She can handle herself."

"Matt, don’t," you warned, shooting him a quick glare, before turning back to your brother. "Harry, we’ll figure this out. But you have to stop being so overdramatic about it."

Harry huffed, crossing his arms, muttering under his breath, "Overdramatic? I’m not being overdramatic..."

Ron piped up, "Mate, you just threw off an Invisibility Cloak and nearly exploded in the middle of a make-out session. Pretty sure that qualifies as overdramatic."

Harry glared at him, but Ron just shrugged.

[cerise-on-top]

hi sunshine 🤍 could you possibly do T141 with a hyper-independent S/O?! I’m hyper-independent and sometimes it can get very overwhelming and it would be nice to have someone try to break down my walls to help me understand that i can ask others for help!! sending all the love💕 Thank you!!

Hey there, sure I can!

TF141 with a Hyper Independent S/O

Price: I don’t think Price was too traumatized as a child, so he probably can’t relate to you very well. Maybe to the slightest degree since he, as a captain, is often seen as an authority figure, who needs to be relied on and make all the decisions. It’s not often that he gets to shut off his brain a little and be left alone. But all of that comes from his work environment, not because he was neglected as a child. I think he’d notice fairly quickly how you don’t seem to ask him for anything, ever. Not to get you a small snack, not to ask him what tomorrow’s weather might be, not to help you build that IKEA furniture. Truth be told, he’ll feel as though he’s failed as a boyfriend since his love language is acts of service. He wants to do things for you, but you don’t let him. It would annoy him at first, but he wants this to work, so he’ll talk to you about it. You’d have to be honest with him, or else I can’t see things working out for you both. If you are, then he’ll try his best to be more observant, try to find out what you like and don’t like. He’ll give you as much attention as you want whenever he can and always ask you if there’s some task that hasn’t been finished yet. You need to calm down a little bit, he does want you to rely at least a little on him. Even if it’s just something along the lines of letting him wash your clothes for once. He wants you to relax, to take some time off for yourself so you can recharge. I know it’s hard for you, but he’ll continue to communicate with you. However, you need to do the same for him too. He doesn’t want your relationship to fall apart because of something like this.

Gaz: His parents did not love him after some time, so he had to learn to rely on himself because absolutely no one would do anything at all for him. And yet, he still became successful. So yeah, I think he could relate to you. Though, I think he was able to stop himself from becoming hyper independent somewhere along the way when he was just about to break yet again. I think he would ask you for things here and there. Nothing big, he’s just self-sufficient that way, but he will ask you to cook him a certain meal when he gets home late or maybe draw him a bath. Naturally, he would do the same things and so much more for you, if you ever asked. And yet, you take it upon yourself to do everything on your own. He could probably see himself in you a little bit, which is why he’d approach you and talk to you about it. He can tell you’re not doing too well. That’s probably one of the first times he’ll open up to you about his past as well, to show you you’re not alone. He’ll ask you how he can help, how he can take this burden off your shoulders and help you become a happier person. He will go to great lengths to show you that you can rely on him. It’s okay if you can’t ask him for help right away, he’ll make sure to always tell you that he’s there for you and will try to help you with whatever it is you’re doing, whether it be finishing a report or trying to help you cope with the inherent isolation that comes with being hyper independent. I think, in a way, helping you would help heal his inner child as well. He wasn’t cared for for a long time, so it’s nice to care for you instead. He had no one for a long time either and it wasn’t good for him, so he would do whatever he could to help you through it all. He’s a very patient man too, so there’s that.

Ghost: Ah yes, the king of trauma himself. As you can probably tell, he’ll also be able to relate to you since he was actively abused as a child and doesn’t trust anyone around him, that isn’t the 141, Nikolai, Laswell or you. He does everything on his own, and I don’t think he’ll ever ask you for anything either. Maybe a simple “Do you have a quid? I wanna buy that tea.” but nothing more than that. So it’s probably gonna be difficult for the both of you to admit that something is wrong with you. Chances are you’ll break before him, though, and will be caught having a mental breakdown. If you’re honest with him, then that’s the first time he’ll realize that being like this is, indeed, not normal. He doesn’t want to see you breaking down and crying because you’ve been isolating yourself this much and can’t trust anyone. I don’t think he’ll be able to help you. Sure, he’ll suggest leaving some things to him here and there since he is a very competent man, who refuses to let you down, but he doesn’t really know what to say. At all. So I think he’ll probably make the suggestion of the both of you going to therapy together. I think the therapist will make him realize that he is not, by any means, “normal” and will tell him what might be wrong with him, but that’s for another time. I think he’d try to work it out with you somehow, trying to be more open to set an example for you, as uncomfortable as it might seem for him. He will reward you for “good behavior”, though, such as asking him to clean the bathroom since you were too burnt out that day. He’ll get you some ice cream. Your favorite flavor too, naturally, since he wants this to become a common occurrence. And he, in turn, will try to ask you for help here and there too. Mostly comfort. But he’ll try, just for you.

Soap: Another lil fella, who had a loving family. Sure, his parents sometimes ignored him when he became too loud and rowdy. But other than that? His childhood was pretty alright. He got into a lot of fights, though. Little Johnny never knew when enough was enough. However, he grew up to be a fine and observant man. He knows what you like and how you like it. Do you like your tea with sugar, honey or milk? He doesn’t even need to ask since he already knows. He will do what he can to help you however he can. He knows he’s a damn fine boyfriend, who will make your life as easy as possible. …except, for some reason, his plans aren’t working out? You avoid him more and more the more he does for you, and for no apparent reason as well? Oh, he’s pissed, but will talk to you about it. “Bonnie, you know I love you, right? So why do you avoid me like the plague?” Once he realizes why you’re the way you are, you can count on him being pissed beyond compare. You need to hold him back if you don’t want him to call your caretakers and insult them in a way only an angry Scot can. At that point, he’ll vow to himself to become an even better boyfriend. He’ll remind you that he’ll do absolutely anything for you. And he keeps his word as well. He’ll bring you coffee, he’ll buy groceries, he’ll deck someone for you. Just give him the word, please. However, he’ll be super proud of you if you ever do ask him for help and will give you a big hug and a few kisses. Baby steps, as he always says. He loves you more than anyone else, so naturally he’ll be patient with you and help you however he can. Even if it’s just a small reminder that he could do it instead.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗨𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗠𝗮𝗸𝗻𝗮𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗣𝘁𝟭

Warnings: None

Maknaeline x Reader. Angst.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

ᒍIᔕᑌᑎG

Jisung was always the one to make people laugh, to brighten the room with his energy and humor. His smile was contagious, his jokes quick, and his laughter a sound you cherished immensely. But what people didn’t see, what Jisung hid behind his laughter, was his fear - the constant nagging doubt that told him he wasn’t good enough. Sure people could tell he was an anxious mess. He talked about with Stays, opened up to many people about his anxiety. But few people truly understood what exactly was harbored within that.

You knew that information, of course. You’d been by his side long enough to see the cracks in his playful exterior; and even his anxious exterior. But even you hadn’t realized how deep those insecurities ran - you thought you did. But it wasn't until you accidentally hit a nerve you didn’t know was there that you understood the depth of it; maybe even deeper than anyone else did.

It was late at night, and you and Jisung were lying on the floor of his living room, watching music videos. It was something you often did when he needed to unwind after long studio sessions. He was particularly quiet tonight, though, his usual playfulness replaced by something more subdued.

“Are you okay?” you asked, nudging him gently with your foot.

Jisung shrugged, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Yeah, just tired.”

You weren’t convinced. “You sure? You’ve been kind of quiet all night. I miss hearing your voice, yeobo.”

He hesitated before finally sighing. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just feeling...off.”

You sat up, concerned. “Off how?” You paused the video you were watching and turned all of your attention to him.

He shifted uncomfortably, sitting up too, and running a hand through his hair. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you feel is stupid,” you said softly, encouraging him to open up.

Jisung gave you a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve just been feeling like...maybe I’m not doing enough? Like, no matter how hard I work, it’s never enough to be at the level I should be. I see the other guys, and sometimes it feels like they’re ahead of me in everything. Better rappers, better singers...even better at being funny.”

You frowned, surprised at the confession. “Jisung, that’s not true. You’re amazing at all those things.” You knew first hand. You got to see all of that up close while being held in his arms, while kissing him goodbye, or cuddling. You got to see him for him...yet he couldn't even see himself?

He gave a bitter laugh, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like it.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. You hated seeing him like this, so wrapped up in his doubts that he couldn’t see how talented he truly was. But you didn't know if anything you would say would make it better. So, in a misguided attempt to lighten the mood, you joked, “Well, at least you’ve got that cute quokka thing going for you, right? No one can beat you at that.”

It was meant to make him laugh, to break the tension. But instead, Jisung’s face fell, his expression crumbling in a way that made your heart stop.

"Bab-"

He stood up abruptly, the sudden movement startling you. “So, that’s it? I’m just the cute, funny guy? That’s all people see?” His boba eyes met yours in a frantic worry.

Your eyes widened in shock. “Jisung, no, that’s not what I meant-”

“But that’s what you said!” he snapped, his voice rising, something sharp and hurt laced in every word. “I’m just the guy people laugh at. The one who makes everyone else look better because I’m the ‘funny one.’ The one who is always anxious and pitied! I’m not taken seriously. Not by you, not by anyone.” He cried.

“That’s not true!” you protested, standing up and reaching out for him, but he pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” His voice cracked, and you could see the vulnerability behind the anger. “You’re just like everyone else. You think I’m a joke?Something to pity?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “Jisung, that’s not it at all. I didn’t mean-”

“I can’t do this right now,” he interrupted, his tone flat, as if he was trying to push down the emotions threatening to spill over. “I need to be alone.”

And just like that, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, speechless and devastated. The door to his bedroom closed with a soft click, and you were left with the echo of your words - the ones you hadn’t meant to say, the ones that had hurt him so deeply.

You sank down in front his door, wanting to be near him even in the slightest sense. The tears you held finally slipping down your cheeks. You had only wanted to make him smile, but instead, you had struck right at the heart of his insecurities. And now, you weren’t sure how to fix it.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

ᖴEᒪI᙭

Felix was like the sun. His warmth radiated from every word, every smile, every laugh. Being around him was like basking in the glow of a never-ending summer day. But what people didn’t realize, what Felix kept hidden so well, was the fear that lingered just beneath the surface - the fear that, no matter how bright he tried to shine, the shadows would always be there.

You and Felix had been inseparable for months. It wasn’t just his warmth that drew you to him; it was the way he made everything feel lighter, easier. He was the light in your life, and you were sure you were the same for him. You needed him like you needed oxygen.

But that night, something shifted.

It had been a long day for both of you, and Felix had been uncharacteristically solemn. He’d barely said anything since you arrived at his apartment, his usual playfulness replaced with a strange tension that had settled in the air like a storm waiting to break.

You were sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, huddled up in a blanket due to the freezing living room; product of your broken heater, but his focus was elsewhere. He kept fidgeting, his fingers playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Lix, are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He flinched slightly at your touch, pulling his arm away before giving you a tight smile, and then in regret letting his arm rest into yours slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

You frowned. That wasn’t the Felix you knew. He'd never flinch at your touch or pull away; rather the opposite. Normally, he’d be snuggling up against you, cracking jokes, or commenting on the movie, but tonight he was distant, like he was somewhere far away.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, concern lacing your voice. “You’ve seemed off all day, love.”

Felix shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “I’m fine, really.” His lips were turned downwards, his eyes not looking as bright as they usually did.

You weren’t convinced, but you didn’t want to push too hard. So, you tried to lighten the mood instead, hoping to bring back the Felix you knew. “Maybe you’re just tired of hearing me talk. I mean, you’ve been so quiet tonight, maybe I’ve been boring you to death.” You took a breath and straightened your posture. "I'll stop yapping if you want some quiet. I wouldn't want to rain on the sunshine boy's day." You said patting his head, but he pulled away harshly this time.

It was meant as a joke, something playful to ease the tension. But the second the words left your mouth, Felix’s face changed. His expression hardened, and he stood up abruptly, startling you.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice low, but there was an edge to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You blinked, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “What? No, I was just joking, Lix-”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s not funny,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “Maybe I’m not in the mood to laugh right now.”

Your heart sank at the sight of him standing there, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. You hadn’t meant to upset him - you had just been trying to make things better, but it was clear now that you’d only made them worse.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly, standing up and reaching for him, but Felix stepped back, shaking his head.

“It’s not about that,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s about everything.”

“Everything?” you repeated, your voice small. “Felix, what are you talking about? Did I do something wrong? Are we breaking up?”

He let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded so wrong coming from him. “It’s about how no matter what I do, I’m always the one who’s ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’ or ‘sunshine,’ never anything else. Just that. Never enough.”

“Felix, you’re more than enough,” you said, your voice shaking as you stepped closer to him. “You’re amazing in every way-” You didn't know what he was talking about. What did he mean by "never enough"? What did he mean by "just that"?

“Am I?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Because sometimes it feels like I’m just here to make everyone else feel better. Like I’m only worth something because I’m the one always smiling, always making everyone laugh. But what happens when I’m not? What happens when I can’t be that ‘sunshine’ everyone expects me to be? Then what?”

His words hit you hard, and for the first time, you could see how much weight Felix had been carrying. He had always been the bright one, the happy one, the one who brought light into any room. But beneath that light was a darkness he’d kept hidden, a fear of never being seen for who he truly was.

“Felix, that’s not true,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you took another step toward him. “You’re not just some...some image of sunshine to me. You’re so much more than that.” Your eyes were watery and you tried to stay strong and blink the tears away. You rubbed your face and sniffed, trying to wipe the beginning flow of a stream of snot. "I...love you for much more than that..."

But Felix didn’t seem to hear you. He was lost in his own thoughts, spiraling further into his insecurities, and you could see the hurt etched on his face.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, his eyes dark with frustration. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you could become useless any second; to go from enough to not enough in an instant - to feel like the only thing you’re good at is pretending everything’s fine. And that that is the only reason people like you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you say to make him believe you? To make him see that he was more than enough, that his value didn’t depend on always being the happy one?

“I’m tired,” Felix finally whispered, his voice so soft it was barely audible. “I’m tired of pretending. I'm tired of everything, to be honest.”

The vulnerability in his words broke your heart, and you reached out for him again, this time gently taking his hand in yours. But Felix didn’t look at you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, as if he couldn’t bear to face you.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid. You didn't want to break up. Ever. “Please, Lixxie talk to me?" Your voice was hanging by a thread.

One that was instantly snapped as Felix didn’t respond, just pulling his hand away from yours, his body tense with a pain you couldn’t reach. And without even a final glance, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the cold room and a silence that rivaled it.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

ᔕEᑌᑎGᗰIᑎ

Seungmin had always been known for his calm demeanor and quiet strength. He didn’t outwardly seek attention like others, but his presence was undeniable - a steadying force in any storm. He someone people could rely on, the one who would always be there, quietly doing his best.

But there were things Seungmin never said out loud, things he buried beneath his composed exterior.

Lately, you had noticed a shift in him. The small, easy moments you used to share had been replaced by a distance you couldn’t quite explain. His responses were shorter, his smiles less frequent, and though he never said it, something was clearly weighing on him.

You were worried about it. Your two-year anniversary around the corner, and it made you wonder if he was considering ending things. Maybe he was tired of you?

It had been another long day at the dorm, and you were hanging out with Seungmin in the living room, just trying to enjoy some downtime. But there was an unspoken tension between you, and every attempt at conversation seemed to hit a wall.

“Seungmin, is everything okay?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. He had been so quiet lately, and you were worried that something was wrong. "Did I do something to upset you?"

Seungmin looked up from his phone, his expression carefully neutral. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, but there was a slight edge to his voice, one you hadn’t heard from him before. "And no, you didn't."

You frowned, not convinced. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed really distant lately...like something’s bothering you. And- And I just wanted to make sure I didn't accidentally hurt your feelings or something...”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if he didn’t want to have this conversation. “I’m just tired. It’s nothing.”

But you knew it wasn’t nothing. There was something beneath the surface, something he wasn’t saying, and you hated feeling like you were being shut out. Seungmin wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he had never been this distant before.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” you said gently, trying to reach him. “But I’m here if you need to talk. You don’t have to handle everything on your own, you know?”

Seungmin’s eyes flickered for a moment, but then his walls came back up. He shrugged, giving you a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m handling it.”

That was when the frustration bubbled up inside you. You weren’t angry at him, but the distance he was creating hurt, and you didn’t know how to bridge the gap.

In simplest terms: he was scaring you.

“Seungmin, you can’t keep everything bottled up forever,” you said, your voice a little sharper than you intended. “You don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine all the time.”

Seungmin’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in his eyes - something like hurt, or maybe frustration. But it disappeared just as quickly.

“I’m not pretending,” he said quietly, but there was a coldness in his voice now.

You didn’t want to push him, but you couldn’t just sit there and pretend like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. You couldn't let whatever was bothering him fester even more; because if that would result in the end of your relationship than you wouldn't be able to live with yourself for not trying to save it. “It feels like you’re shutting me out, Seungmin. And I don’t know why.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and just when you thought he wasn’t going to respond, he stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe because I am shutting you out.”

The words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear them, but when they finally sank in, your heart dropped.

“What?” you whispered, standing up to face him. “Seungmin, why...why won't you just explain to me what I did?”

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not who everyone thinks I am."

"Min what do you mean by that?"

"Nothing-"

"Why won't you tell me?"

Seungmin’s eyes were dark with frustration now, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usually calm demeanor. “Because maybe I don't want to tell you!" He shouts.

The weight of his words hit you like a semi.

“Seungmin, whatever is wrong please- tell me,” you said quickly, taking a step closer to him. "We're supposed to rely on each other in times like these. You can rely on me just like I can rely on you-"

But before you could finish, Seungmin cut you off, his voice laced with bitterness. “Isn't that the problem?” He let out a sarcastic laugh. "I'm the reliable one? So much so that I'm known as the quiet one who is always there when people need him? Like need him need him?"

Your throat tightened, and you felt a lump forming in your chest. You had no idea he felt this way, no idea he had been struggling with this sense of invisibility.

Was that what he was struggling with?

Because for some reason you felt as if it was much more than what you were assuming. But maybe your assumption was correct?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching for him, but Seungmin took a step back, shaking his head. "If you feel invisible-"

“Don’t,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I need...I just need some space right now. I don't think you could even understand if I tried to explain.”

And before you could say anything else, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you standing there in the suffocating silence, your heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

ᒍEOᑎGIᑎ

You’d always admired Jeongin for his youthful spirit and the way he managed to balance the pressures of his career with a bright, playful attitude. But beneath that light-hearted exterior, you knew there were layers to him - things he didn’t always reveal. His role as the youngest in Stray Kids often came with expectations that weighed heavily on him, but Jeongin rarely spoke about it unless he was feeling vulnerable.

Today had been one of those days where he seemed a bit quieter than usual. You had both decided to hang out at the dorm, hoping to unwind after his busy schedule. Everything was normal, at first. You were teasing him about his latest performance, laughing about something silly he did on stage. He had been smiling, but there was a hint of something in his eyes that made you pause.

"You're so lucky, Innie," you said without thinking, the words slipping out as you laughed. "Everyone always loves the maknae. You get all the attention without even trying." It was true.

He didn't even try catching your attention, but the minute you saw him you had an unmistakable attraction; an irrepressible pull to him.

Jeongin's smile faltered, his dimple disappearing, and his eyes dropped to the floor. He didn’t respond right away, which was unusual for him. You realized too late that what you’d said had hit a nerve. You had only meant it as a lighthearted comment, but there was an underlying truth to it that stung.

"Innie?" you asked cautiously, your laughter fading as you noticed the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Jeongin stood up slowly, turning away from you as he ran a hand through his hair. His movements were tense, his back rigid as he faced the wall.

"Jeongin...what's wrong?" you asked softly, feeling a knot form in your stomach. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You think it’s lucky? Being the youngest, being the one everyone looks at like I’m some kind of...kid."

Your heart dropped. "No, I didn’t mean it like that baby I mean-"

"But that’s what you think, right?" Jeongin interrupted, his voice quiet, but hardening. He turned to face you, and you were taken aback by the hurt in his eyes. "You think because I’m the maknae, I don’t have to try? That everything’s just handed to me? Because thats what you make it seem like..."

The guilt washed over you in waves. You had never imagined that your words would trigger something so deep, but now you could see just how much he had been holding in. Jeongin had always laughed off his role as the youngest, but now you realized it had weighed on him far more than you knew.

"Jeongin, that’s not what I think at all," you said, your voice trembling with regret, and your bottom lip turning downwards. "I didn’t mean to make it sound like that."

He clenched his fists, his expression a mix of frustration and sadness. "Do you know how hard it is to be seen as a kid all the time? No matter what I do, people look at me like I’m just the cute, young one. Like I can’t be serious, like I don’t work as hard as everyone else."

You could feel the pain behind his words, and it broke your heart. "I’m sorry," you whispered, stepping closer to him. "I didn’t know you felt this way."

Jeongin shook his head, stepping back as if he didn’t want you to get too close. "Of course you didn’t," he muttered bitterly. "Because I don’t talk about it. I don’t complain. I just...deal with it. And if it comes up I just laugh it off because I'm a kid. That's all my hyungs see and all the fans see and all you see."

He looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. The silence between you felt heavy, and you didn’t know how to fix what you had unintentionally broken. You had hurt him, and you weren’t sure if he would let you in to make it right.

"Maybe I should go," Jeongin said suddenly, his voice cold and distant.

Panic rose in your chest- did you mess everything up? Did something you see as a small issue snowball into a major catalyst of your happiness? "No, wait-"

But before you could stop him, Jeongin grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. His retreating figure left you standing there, feeling helpless, your heart aching with guilt. You had never seen him like this - so vulnerable, so fragile. And it was your words that had caused those cracks to appear.

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılııl

[wooziorgans]

moon song || ljh

warnings: post breakup au. ex idol!reader. reader has an implied suicide attempt(s) in the past. reader is implied to do something akin to relapsing at the end of the fic. ed talk. lots of pressure that comes w being an idol. clubs. drinking. seungcheol hates y/n for leaving. leaving the idol industry behind. seeing your ex after four years. hurt w very little comfort. right person, wrong time.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: vent piece mostly. abt my frustration of still being sick, abt my frustration of not seeming to get better, abt how it never seems to stop. abt all of my wasted potential as a person. all of it, none of it, everything and nothing at all. i am so tired.

please read with caution. this is just a lot of emotions all in one place.

The loud bass that hits your head as soon as you enter the club makes your head pound immediately. It’s been four long years since you’ve even been in this part of Seoul, let alone been in a club with this group of ex-colleagues.

Ex-colleagues is certainly one way to put it. They were all so much more, and you know that this is just an excuse for all of them to get drunk. You wonder briefly if Jihoon’s here. He never used to drink, but then again, he didn’t do a lot of things until you were in the picture. You wonder how much has changed now that you’re not.

The memory of him burns like a hot iron branding your back, and you head to the nearest table of refreshments to grab a drink. If he’s here, you’ll need all the alcohol you can get your hands on. Maybe that makes you no better than anyone else; no better than the scene you so desperately needed to leave four years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re no longer apart of it. What you do now won’t cost you your career. If the night ends with you passed out in an alley way simply because you saw your ex at an album release party for an album he produced, so be it. He never comes to these things anyways.

At least, he didn’t when you knew him. You haven’t known Jihoon for a long time. It’s been four years after all; a lot can change in a week, let alone four years.

Like your decision to leave the K-pop industry. You had mulled over it for weeks, before you brought it up to anyone, and you didn’t go to Jihoon first. He was the last person you told. At least, officially, that you were leaving.

All those years of work as a trainee, just for it to be nothing. All of the tears, the angry screams into your pillow, the poverty your company forced you into in the first few years of your career because it was boarding on bankruptcy. All of this wasted potential. Maybe you could’ve been someone great.

You were, for a few years. Your group took off, and the first few years of success made all of the hard work feel like it was worth something. But as the saying goes, too much of a good thing won’t be good for long.

The pressure started to build, and it built until it boiled over and you were found on the verge of doing something terrible in your bathroom by your boyfriend and your manager after a week of unusual silence. Jihoon never was a crier, but god did he sob as he held you in the back of the ambulance. He had never begged for anything the way he begged for you to talk to him.

Please, god, please talk to me Y/N. Please, baby. I can’t— I can’t lose you.

It’s funny, really, how things work out. You dug yourself so deep into this hole of despair from the pressure of being an idol, that the only way out of it was to completely separate yourself from that life and start over.

After terminating your contract, you broke up with Jihoon. Or, you didn’t break up with him, only told him that you needed to take a break while you sorted yourself out. After being on a break for four years, is it still just a break? Or are you broken up at that point?

Both you and Jihoon know the answer to that.

Three years of no social media, no articles about you, none of your old friends reaching out to check in on you because they held a contractual obligation to be nice to you in the hallways. Three and a half years out of the spotlight. Three and a half years of peace, of healing, of sorting your life out and learning how to breathe again.

It’s been four years without Jihoon, and you didn’t really think much about the consequences that potentially sharing a space with him would have. But now they’re suffocating. All you can think about is the potential possibility of him being here, which, he wouldn’t be, right? He hates these kinds of gatherings. He used to skip his own release parties to watch shitty romance movies with you on the couch in his studio.

Does he have someone new to watch romance movies with? Or has he given up romance altogether? You know from the first few months, updates provided by Soonyoung, that he didn’t take the distance very well. You know that he missed you, and he worried about you constantly. You know you’re spiralling, and you know all those years of therapy will be for nothing if you don’t pull yourself out of it.

You don’t have to do that, because Seungkwan does it for you. “Y/N? You came!” He seems elated that you’re here, off his rocker, probably drunk.

“Of course I came! It’s your first album as BSS, Seungkwan.” You smile, and it’s not forced at all. You have completely forgotten how easy it is to fall into banter with Seungkwan. It’s almost like you never left in the first place.

Except something in his eyes seems off. That’s your first red flag to turn around and get the fuck out of this club, but you don’t. “My god. It’s been so long. How are you doing?” With anyone else, the small talk would’ve taken you out back and killed you. It’s different with Seungkwan.

Different how? He was one of the only people who consistently checked in on you when you first left. As you settled into your new life, the texts became less frequent; now, four years later they’re hardly anything to notice, but he’ll still send you a text on every holiday, and he’s wished you happy birthday every year since you met him.

“I’m doing a lot better. I’m… I’m good.” You laugh softly. Seungkwan smiles at you.

“That’s good. I’ve missed having you around— of course I don’t expect you to come back into this scene, but it would be nice to see you sometime.” Seungkwan squeezes your shoulder softly and smiles wider.

“Yeah, of course. I know I’ve been gone, but I’ll make it less hard to get a hold of me. I’ve missed all of you, truth be told.” You smile back. “I’ve just… been doing a lot of healing and I think it’s about time I finally start reconnecting with people. Is everyone here?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah. We’re all here! I kind of spilled that I invited you so everyone decided to come just in case you showed up.” The depth of all doesn’t really seem to cross Seungkwan’s mind; he’s certainly not thinking about Jihoon right now, or Seungcheol for that matter. You’re pretty sure Seungcheol would punch you if he caught sight of you. Maybe Jihoon would too. You have no idea how Jihoon even feels about you.

“Even, uh, Jihoon?” The smile falls from Seungkwan’s face.

“Oh. Yeah. He’s here too.” Seungkwan swallows when he sees your face shift. “You… he-he wants to talk to you. It’s not my place to really say, but he’s not mad. I think he just wants closure.”

So maybe Jihoon wouldn’t punch you. That’s a bit of a relief.

“Oh my god! Y/N! You came!” It’s Seokmin, very clearly drunk. You didn’t keep in contact with him, though he did send you a few paragraphs over text as he wished you all the best, telling you to reach out if you ever needed anything. You didn’t take him up on the offer.

“I did!” You smile, tilting your head as you look up at Seokmin.

“Can I have a hug?” He’s already opening his arms and you slide right into them. His hug is firm and warm. You’ve missed Seokmin a lot more than you cared to admit. Seungkwan grumbles about how he should’ve asked for a hug and you laugh, pulling him into one.

You catch up with Seokmin briefly before he’s being pulled away by someone you don’t know. You stick with Seungkwan, talking about your life, the album, avoiding the subject of Jihoon.

And then you turn your head at the bright sound of laughter, and you see him. You see him, and he’s not the same mess he was when you left him with no promise of when you’d see each other next. He’s not the scared man in his early twenties who had no idea if you were going to die on him. He’s not the man who stayed with you in the hospital for days on end.

He’s not the producer you knew who’d slide his headphones over your ears as he pulled you into his lap. He’s not the warm hand that held yours because you forgot your gloves again. He’s not the hushed giggles at four in the morning, or the hurried kisses, or the soft whimpers and praises as you tangled yourselves in his bedsheets.

Jihoon isn’t yours anymore.

You had hoped he wouldn’t be such a sore subject for you anymore, but seeing him in all of his glory four years later… god does it fucking hurt. You’ve done a lot of healing in the last four years, but in that time you never really had the time to process the loss of Jihoon.

Soonyoung spots you, and that’s when you know you’re doomed, because if Soonyoung is distracted, Jihoon always notices the thing that catches him off guard. You try to pull your eyes away from Jihoon, but you can’t. You swear he’s gotten more beautiful in the last four years.

He’s gotten bigger, physically— far more muscular. You can see the curve of his pecks through his shirt, one that isn’t even tight against his body. Jihoon’s always been a big fitness buff, but it appears he’s put more effort into himself. His biceps strain against the fitted sleeves of his long sleeve black shirt.

Jihoon’s face looks different too. He still has the same round cheeks you used to always pinch and prod at. His jawline is still soft, but it’s more defined. His eyes are bright, and the bags under them are still there. You wonder briefly if he’s ever gotten rid of them; if the skin under his eyes has ever matched the rest of his milky complexion.

His hair is longer than you’ve ever seen it. Dark and flowy, it’s reflective and healthy, half tied up with what would be his undercut hanging freely. A few pieces frame his face. It looks soft and healthy. Jihoon looks soft and healthy.

He’s smiling as he scans the crowd to find what Soonyoung is distracted by, and then he spots you. The smile is wiped off of Jihoon’s face faster than your brain can even register it. Seungkwan stiffens beside you, hand finding your shoulder to steady you as you stumble briefly, but the pull between you and Jihoon is too much.

Both of you start moving towards each other, pushing your way through the crowd. “Y/N.” His voice comes out in a breath, chest heaving and then he’s there, right in front of you, after four years.

You don’t know what to say, can’t process the fact that he’s in front of you, as beautiful as ever. “Jihoon,” you echo, “hi.” You can’t help the small smile that threatens to pull at your lips. The tension on Jihoon’s face eases, but he doesn’t smile back.

“Hi. How are you doing?” Jihoon asks, and if it was anyone else, it would’ve been a sad attempt at small talk. It’s Jihoon, so you know he’s asking how you’re doing now, if you’re better. A part of him is asking if you still feel like killing yourself. The answer to the last part is no.

“I’m… better. A lot better.” You laugh awkwardly. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t doing okay.” Now, Jihoon actually does smile at you, and though it’s small, it’s still there.

“You look a lot better. Healthier. I’m glad.” Jihoon takes a sip of his drink as he looks down at you. He’s right; you’re much healthier now. There’s solid meat on your bones, your thighs touch and your ribs don’t show anymore. Your face has filled out, cheeks full and round. Your eyes don’t look as though they’re sunken into your skull, they’re brighter now; they seem to shine with life in a way they never have before.

Jihoon takes you in properly, and god, you’ve gotten so much more beautiful since the last time he saw you. It hurts. It hurts a lot to see how good you look now, without him. He knows it’s a lot more complicated than that, but it still hurts nonetheless.

You look healthy, like an actual person and not a skeleton, and you were never that way when you were an idol. You were never like that when you were with Jihoon.

“Oh, um, thank you. Should we… should we sit? We have a lot to talk about.” You laugh again to hide your nerves. Jihoon can still read you, and he knows you’re brimming with nerves. He knows you’re a little scared, probably more than a little, and he is too.

You’ve never breached the subject, hardly even talked about your breakup. Jihoon doesn’t like to think about it. He just doesn’t. He doesn’t like to think about how much worse you were doing, even if it destroyed him. The breakup was harder on you, tenfold, and you went through it alone.

“I- uh. Yeah, yeah, we can go sit. It’s probably about time we talk.” Jihoon laughs nervously, closing his eyes for a second. He wordlessly starts walking towards the vacant booths of the club. You follow close behind.

Jihoon sits down, and you take a seat across from him. It’s silent for a few moments. Both of you are staring at your cups, not drinking, just swirling your liquids of choice.

Jihoon speaks first, but he can’t look at you. “Why’d you have to leave me?” He asks, and his voice breaks softly as he says it. You certainly weren’t expecting that as the first question he asked, but you don’t really know what else he would’ve asked.

“I… I had to leave everything that had to do with being an idol behind. You… you included.” It’s a shitty answer, but you can’t think in Jihoon’s presence.

“I understand that, but I would’ve been there for you. I would’ve helped you get help. You didn’t have to do it by yourself, Y/N. I loved you; I would’ve done anything to make sure you were safe.” Jihoon’s bites at his lip, eyes sparkling in the low lights of the club. He looks like he’s about to cry, and god does it break your heart.

He loved you, past tense. It’s jarring. It stings, but what else did you expect? For him to still want you? That’s unrealistic and completely unfair to expect from him.

It hits you then that you might still be in love with him. That makes this next part so much harder.

“I know. I know, but it made sense to me at the time. I can’t- I can’t rationalize anything that I did at that time in my life. None of it makes sense, but I made a lot of choices that I regret and I can’t go back on them now. It’s too late for that and I’m- I’m so sorry for everything I put you through, Jihoon. All of it; everything, god, I’m so sorry.” You spill, and the soft burn in the back of your throat makes it hard to speak as you try not to cry. “You didn’t deserve to deal with any of it.” You whisper softly.

“Y/N,” Jihoon whispers back, “I forgave you a long time ago. I just want closure.” Closure. Jihoon wants closure, meaning he wants to move on. The tears in his eyes shine brightly, though they don’t fall, but he’s crying nonetheless, and that makes you feel worse.

“I don’t deserve that though. I don’t deserve to be forgiven for just leaving you. Seungcheol still hasn’t forgiven me; why the hell would you?” You swallow hard, and that seems to break the dam as the first few tears slip down your cheeks.

“Seungcheol has his own issues. We never told him the full story, and maybe that’s why he’s still… iffy about the whole thing. But I forgive you. I just, I want to stop hiding from you. I don’t want to be worried about running into you somewhere and not knowing what to say. I still care about you, so much, and, god does it fucking kill me to still worry about you when you’ve never made an effort to reach out to me.” Jihoon’s always been blunt, so you should’ve expected this, but it makes you feel worse; guilty. “I would’ve answered your calls, in a heartbeat. You know I would’ve.” Jihoon blinks, and the first few tears fall down his face.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to call you after so long. I spent six months in and out of the hospital, and after that I had to get back on my feet. By the time I even had time to think about calling you, it’d been a year, and to me that was too late.” You close your eyes and exhale deeply, fingers twitching.

Jihoon used to hold your hands when you were upset to stop them from twitching so much. He used to pull your head close to his chest and wipe your tears with the pads of his thumbs. He makes no effort to do so now. Jihoon can’t even look at you properly.

He’s focused on picking at the calluses on his palms. Some things never change.

“You- six months? Y/N, fuck, I had no idea. I knew it was bad but, shit, really?” Jihoon’s voice breaks fully, and all you can do is nod. “How many more times? How many times did you—?” He can’t finish his sentence. His throat closes up.

“Four.” Jihoon has nothing to say in reply. He can’t, not with the deep hurt that settles in his chest, so you elaborate. “I really just wanted to die. The media was on my ass for the first year and it was just bad. I spent the next year after that in a rehabilitation program to fix my relationship with food and it helped a lot. I found a good therapist and I’m still seeing her. It’s helped a lot. I’m- I’m clean.” You pick up your cup, hand shaking, and take a large drink to calm your nerves.

“I’m really glad that you’re healthy now. Really, god, that’s such a relief.” Jihoon’s tears are steady now. He wipes at them with his sleeve. You mutter a soft thank you.

Outside of the booth, the noise has been blocked out by your conversation, but you hear something peculiar. It’s Seungcheol, his voice is loud and booming. He’s angry.

“What the fuck are they doing here?! Seriously, why did you even invite them?” Both you and Jihoon look up at the same time to see Joshua and Mingyu trying to deescalate the situation. Seungkwan is yelling back, face red as he tries to block Seungcheol’s view of the booth you and Jihoon are sat in.

“No, I’ve fucking had it with all of you. Defending them for just fucking leaving Jihoon without a word. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you bring them here?” Seungcheol is drunk and looking for a confrontation with you, and that’s enough of a threat to have you and Jihoon standing as he tries to usher you out of the club without Seungcheol seeing.

“Fuck, you should probably go.” Jihoon pulls you close to him, shielding you from Seungcheol’s view. You nod, walking fast beside him as you push your way through the crowd.

“Yah! You, get the fuck back here!” Neither of you listen as you push your way out of the door. You make the mistake of looking behind you to see Joshua and Mingyu physically holding Seungcheol back. Wonwoo is there now too, standing in front of him to prevent him from walking.

The outside air is cold and bitter. You shiver as you pull out your phone to order a ride. You and Jihoon are completely silent. He’s standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat radiating off onto you.

“I’ll wait with you. How long?” He asks, voice shaky.

“Two minutes.” You only have two minutes left with Jihoon. It’s so finite, the time you’re spending with him. If only you had more time.

You’re not afforded that luxury as you shiver beside him. “Can I- is it okay if I—?” You nod, unsure of what he’s asking. It’s a yes either way. Jihoon pulls you into his arms in a tight, warm hug. His hands don’t find their way into your hair, or rub your back. He just holds you. It’s all he can do.

Both of you ignore the mutual swell of warmth in your chests. You’re still in love with him, you know that, and that’s why the car seems to show up in no time. Your phone chimes as the car pulls up in front of the club as you reluctantly start to separate yourselves.

There’s so much you didn’t get to talk about. You tell him so. “We, fuck, I had so much more to say. I had so much more to explain. You, god, you were the right person, Jihoon. Everything else was just so wrong.” You thought the weight would’ve been lifted off your chest, but it only hurts more. You close your eyes as you turn away.

“Y/N, fuck, don’t do this to me right now.” Jihoon whispers, eyes filling with tears once again.

“I’m sorry Jihoon. I love you. I’ll see you around.” You open the door to the car.

“I, yeah. Take care of yourself.” Jihoon can’t look at you, no way in hell can he look at you as you close the door and drive off. He stands still in the cold, watching as the car disappears from his sight. He leans against the wall, head falling back as the tears start pouring freely.

As he pushes the door to the club open, it hits him hard, fills his whole body as a bone deep love for you settles. And it hurts, god does it hurt. Seungcheol’s calmed down, but the snide remark that slips past his lip doesn’t even register in Jihoon’s brain. All Jihoon recognizes is his tone, and that’s enough.

“I’ll punch you right in your fucking mouth, Seungcheol, I swear to god. Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon hardly ever makes threats, but when he does it has everyone going quiet. Seungcheol, Joshua and Mingyu stop in their tracks. There’s been enough drama for one night.

Jihoon grabs a new drink and chugs it, before he goes to grab his coat. He needs to get out of here before the sob building in his throat bursts.

You manage to keep your tears at bay until you enter your apartment. You find yourself in the bathroom, against the cold tile and the porcelain of the bathtub. You don’t do anything, just sit there and breathe as the tears flow freely.

It wasn’t supposed to end like that. You were supposed to have more time to reconcile with Jihoon. You and bathrooms have seen a lot of hurt. Most of your bad decisions are made in bathrooms. You don’t do anything, you just sit there for a few minutes as you cry.

Nothing happens the next night. Or the night after. A week after the release party, Jihoon still plagues your mind and that’s when you crack. Your old manager turned friend answers the phone.

“Hi. You okay?” Yena asks softly, voice ridden with sleep.

“Drive me to the hospital? I think I need stitches.” You laugh nervously. The adrenaline has worn off and all you feel is regret.

“Y/N.” She sighs, but it’s not disappointment. She’s seen a lot of things with you, and supported you through all of them. You’re the reason she quit being a manager and went back to university. You made her realize the idol life isn’t as glamorous as it seems, and you’ve formed a very solid friendship over the past five years. “You know they’re gonna keep you for a few days, right?”

“Yeah. I know. It was impulsive. Like, I’m fine now. I just couldn’t stop thinking.” You sigh.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be on the way. Cold water and pressure until I get there, yeah?” You laugh softly.

“Already on it.” The call disconnects soon after, and you look up at the mirror. Briefly, you imagine Jihoon standing behind you in a much different situation than the one you’re in now.

His thick arms are wrapped around your waist, head leaning against yours. He’s smiling in your vision. You smile softly in your reflection, though it’s strained. The blood on your hands pulls you out of it.

a/n: i wrote this when i was going through it. i’m fine now but i seriously can’t do angst like i used to so i might write a part two or something where they end up back together.

[loggiepj]

lizzie

Summary: just an angsty one shot story 😂✌🏳️‍🌈

"TOM SAID she had been using Rooney to gain more credits to her work, always insisting to come along Rooney when she's in film productions, pretending she was only supporting her then girlfriend just so she could give her scripts to producers. And she did this while cheating on her behind her back."

You bit your lip to stop yourself from bursting into tears, hand on your chest, slipping to your collarbone then up to your neck as you willed yourself to breathe.

"That's awful," you heard Lizzie's beautiful voice slurring through the confines of the comfort room, through the door of the cubicle you were trapped in. "I can't believe she could do such a thing. She was so sweet and all, I thought . . . I thought—"

"Oh, we thought so too, Liz," another person chimed in, "but don't be easily fooled. I heard Rooney's lawyer will be filing a case against her sometime soon."

Your other hand went to embrace yourself, clutching against the side of your sweater as you might lose it.

"It was a risk on the producer's part to still include her in this film," said another, "knowing her reputation."

In the following silence, you could hear Elizabeth's sigh. "God, I wouldn't have known."

It was complete torture, having to listen through it all, having to witness how someone you had grown close to in the past few weeks could crush you down in an instant. Five minutes and thirty seven seconds, to be exact.

As if the gods above had acknowledged you had suffered enough, they eventually left the comfort room and began discussing about the next scenes as they walked through the door.

When you heard the door shut close, you broke down. The kind of cry where you seemed to be running out of air to breathe, as if you had been clawing your insides until there's nothing left. You didn't think it was possible to cry for someone like this. You felt like a kid, but you couldn't wail louder since anyone could just walk into the toilet.

The gossips you had endured during highschool, about you being gay, had nothing in comparison to what just happened. Especially the one who was involved was someone special to you. And it felt worse coming from her. To think that Lizzie would actually believe them, believe the rumors circulating about you. To think that she could be different from others. But you'd thought wrong.

It all started with Rooney. She was an actress you fell in love with when you got to work with her and Tom in Carol movie. You had been together with Rooney for almost six years. And yet for one simple action, a drunk crewmate kissing you on the lips inside the producer's room, mistaking you as his girlfriend, Rooney threw everything.

It was all one big misunderstanding. One night, you were just making love. The next, you weren't allowed to enter the penthouse you were both staying, considering Rooney owned that unit and you gave up yours when you moved in with her.

Her sister, Kate, the ever merciful one, contacted you afterwards the sudden eviction, saying that she would try to persuade Rooney to be at least forgiving to let you stay for the meantime while you were looking for another place to live.

But that didn't happen. After that incident, rumors of you cheating started to spread around in the industry, some were exaggerated to give that appeal. And no one trusted you anymore, that you would only use people to your own benefit.

If you weren't only friends with the director of the current film you were working with, you wouldn't have any project.

And then you met Elizabeth Olsen.

You can call me Lizzie, by the way, was what she said when the two of you first talked.

Lizzie had a very distinctive and elegant appearance. She had fair skin, light brown hair, and expressive eyes that were usually a striking green. She was almost an inch taller than you, but if she wore heels, you'd always look up to her whenever the two of you were talking.

You knew her from her massive role as Wanda Maximoff in Marvel Universe films, and you even used to idolize her as someone who's good in everything, no matter what genre the film she was in.

And you both just instantly clicked, like you were made for each other. You could talk to her for hours and hours through the production days, either before the filming would start, during breaks or at the end of the day. She would also share everything to you, with enthusiasm to your mutual interests, as if you were long-time friends. She looked at you without judgment, making you wonder if she knew about the rumors, the one thing that could destroy this newfound promising relationship. Knowing Lizzie wasn't into social media and stuff was what kept you asleep most nights.

You had even asked her to a date that weekend and you both enjoyed it to the fact that she almost invited you inside her nearby apartment when you gave her a ride home. There was this kind of feeling you feel whenever she was around, sometimes butterflies, sometimes longing.

But everything crumbled down when a newcomer saw the two of you flirting with each other.

YOU SPLASHED some cold water into your face as you prepared yourself to face the outside world, hoping it wasn't that obvious that you were just crying seconds ago.

When you went back to the studio to get some work done, you saw Lizzie on one corner practicing some lines with her co-star.

Maybe you were only overthinking it. Maybe she would see you through, talk to you about it, listen to your side of the story. But when you approached them, they only went silent.

"Hey," you greeted, trying to diminish any awkwardness.

"Hi Y/n," Lizzie replied with a smile, "we're just quickly rehearsing for the next scene."

"Oh, okay, sorry to bother you both," you said, "I'll just talk to you later then."

She only smiled back as she went back to her script. You would have just let it go if it weren't for the fact that she would always choose to talk to you.

LATER was no different as you went to knock against the door of her trailer upon hearing Lizzie's laughter inside. Abruptly, the laughters died, and you swore you could hear shushing. When her friend opened the door the second time you knocked, said friend only told you Lizzie wasn't in there even when you knew she was.

THROUGH the days that followed, it was slowly sinking in that maybe they got her too. That Lizzie believed them too.

You tried to give Lizzie the benefit of the doubt. That maybe she was only busy, knowing the most critical scenes were being shot. But you had probably sent her a lot of messages to which Lizzie had only replied words fewer and bland as compared to the older ones she had sent you.

WHEN you tried to approach Lizzie during one of the breaks, surprising her with your favorite cheesecake she said she liked, she thanked you rather hurriedly.

"Thanks, Y/n," she said. "You shouldn't have."

"It's fine," you said back, brushing her off as she tried to return the box to you. "I was in the area earlier when I passed by the store, and I remembered you wanting to eat another slice of it."

What was redness that you used to see adorned on Lizzie's cheeks, was inexistent as she hesitantly accepted the gift. You could tell she was sporting a smile you had seen her do whenever she was uncomfortable during interviews.

It gave you the kick to stop whatever this was you were doing. You then decided not to torture her anymore with how forward you were. It was clear she didn't want anything to do with you. That you were just mere friends in passing. That that date was only that. Nothing more.

"Lizzie!" someone called her from afar, apparently saving her from this awkward interaction. Saving you both.

"Shoot, sorry, Y/n," she said with an apologetic smile. "I have to leave, but thank you again for this. You're too sweet for this world."

You forced a huge smile her way. "Yeah, no worries. See you later."

BUT YOU had avoided her later. You had avoided them. And through the days that followed, you began distancing yourself from the cast and crew, knowing now what they had been talking behind your back. You just went to the studio to help work with the script then went back straight home. No more small talks in the hallway as you passed by them, occasionally wearing a hoodie over your face, wishing it was Harry Potter's cloak of invisibility.

At nights, you stared at the photos of the two of you together during production and even that one dinner date you had at a private restaurant, wondering how two individuals went from these to complete strangers.

You couldn't help but wonder if Lizzie has missed you at all. But when you glanced at her from a distance whenever you couldn't avoid not coming to the studio, laughing and making vlog with her co-stars and makeup artists, you could feel she was glad she dodged a bullet that was you. That she almost went out with someone like you, someone who couldn't be trusted.

You had even stopped eating your favorite cheesecake, knowing it would only remind you of her. Lesson learned. Never suggest your favorites to anyone.

THAT was when you started hanging out with Emma Watson, whom you had gotten closer as you were part of her writing crew in another film you were working for.

She had well defined cheekbones and chocolate brown eyes. But what stood out the most was her English accent. Sometimes, you just wanted to listen to her talk all day.

Emma already knew the rumors about you, and called them bullshit. Maybe it was the British in her, but she told you she didn't care about anyone's past other than first impressions. Besides, if she weren't a fan of your works, she wouldn't have given a chance to know you.

When she revealed to you she liked girls too, you grew more comfortable around her.

You also started to make friends with the other film's crew, and maybe that was what you needed, what you were missing. You no longer felt sad or lonely whenever you were around them. And having to fit two jobs in a day, it felt different having something to look forward to whenever you finished working for Lizzie's film. Good kind of different.

"WAIT, you're already leaving? Are you not going with us?" your director friend asked the moment he saw you packing things up, preparing to leave.

"What do you mean?"

"Liz invited the whole cast and crew for a housewarming party at her new house," he replied.

You had no idea but who were you to receive first invitation from her in the first place. You were a nobody.

"Oh I . . . I actually am needed to get this edit reviewed," you said, easily making up an excuse. Although technically, it wasn't a lie.

"That's a bummer. I was pretty sure Liz said to invite you too." He sighed. "Well, don't work yourself too hard, Y/n."

You only smiled back as you left, staying out of sight from others, keeping distance away from the lobby where you could see the whole cast chatting as they waited for the car service to get to Lizzie's house. And for a brief moment, you caught sight of the woman who once captured your heart, broke it and left to rot. Elizabeth looked so beautiful and fresh even after a day's production, and she was wearing that jacket she stole from you that very first day.

"HAVE you ever loved someone?"

You had been staring at your notifications, watching for what seemed like hours at Lizzie's messages asking where you were and why you weren't at her housewarming party.

You didn't even noticed Emma had asked you a question until she nudged your shoulder.

"Sorry, what?" you asked, slipping your phone into your pocket.

"I asked if you've ever loved someone? Any lovers? Girlfriends? Boyfriend? Flings?" she asked teasingly, "It's just I haven't seen you around with anyone."

"I mean, you've heard the rumors—"

"Fuck all the rumors, I'm not blind, Y/n," Emma interrupted. "You're actually gorgeous. It could cause a scandal."

Avoiding the girl's gaze, you laughed at her. "What are you suggesting?"

There was complete silence, making you look back at Emma deep in thoughts.

"What do you say about you becoming my girlfriend?"

"What?"

"It's just for PR stuff and all," she reasoned. "And for promoting this movie."

"Promoting? They'd hate you. They'd hate me more."

"At least, it would be a distraction from the public. I haven't actually come out as gay but I've provided signs, yet people just turn a blind eye. And this will help confirm my sexuality. If they hated me for dating the rumored you, they'd hate me less for being gay."

You fell silent as you thought about it.

"My PR manager will pay you, of course. You're saving up for a house, right? I want to help you."

Then she looked at her hands on her lap, nervous. "Besides, you're the only one I felt comfortable doing this with." She then glanced back at you. "So . . . Are you with me?"

WHEN you started going out with Emma publicly, the photos of you together holding hands in public immediately spread through the news and gossip channels. You started to become famous, more on the bad side though, of how you were only using Emma again for your selfish reasons and how stupid Emma was for dating you.

At least, there were only a few articles about how disappointed they were Emma turned out to be gay. People were more disappointed she was dating a parasite.

IT WAS almost a month after when you received a missed call from your ex girlfriend Rooney. And she had called you multiple times until you blocked her number. And when she figured out you blocked her, she sent you numerous emails.

Emma was with you as you anxiously worked through the next scene's script.

"You okay?" Emma asked, her hand on your shoulder made you jump on your seat. "Sorry."

"It's okay," you managed to reply.

"What are you worrying about?"

You hesitated, frown growing deeper. "It's just . . . I think my ex girlfriend will finally end my career."

"How?"

"She's going to file a case against me," you said, almost in tears.

"Is that what you think she's going to do?" She chuckled softly.

"What are you giggling about? It's not funny."

"Sorry," she went on still laughing, "but you have to see this."

Apparently, Rooney had posted a public apology addressed to you, clearing you out, redeeming your image, and admitting it was her jealousy that ended your relationship, that she was willing to destroy her career in exchange for yours. And that she wanted so badly to talk to you if you'd only let her.

It felt like a relief as you saw the ones who reposted the post, as you read the comments from people defending you and supporting you, that Emma was a better choice than Rooney. It felt like the weight of the world was taken off your shoulder.

Emma then wrapped her arms around you as you sobbed into her chest. And she only let you.

Some weeks later, Emma asked you out on a date. A real date, saying she was willing to try. Maybe it was Rooney's post that made her trust you. Maybe she was just scared. But you also wanted to try it with her.

Rooney eventually stopped contacting you. The damage has already been done. One day, you may be able to forgive her. But never to forget.

MAYBE the public apology was what made Lizzie finally approached you during the last few days in the production. She brought you a gift, the cheesecake that used to be your favorite. Now, you didn't like how too sweet it was, wanting nothing more than to savor Cornish pasty introduced by your girlfriend Emma.

"Hey, Y/n," she greeted. "I . . . I brought you this."

"Thank you, Lizzie," you said, accepting with haste.

There was awkward silence as she placed her hands inside the pockets of her jeans. "Last day, huh? You want to go for sushi later? My treat."

And maybe it really was the public post Rooney made that made her finally talk to you, as if she was still the same person she was the first time you met. And as if you were still interested in her as you were months ago.

"Sorry, I have to meet Em for dinner tonight," you said, smiling apologetically.

"It's fine, it's fine," she said, brushing you off with a forced chuckle. "So, it's true you two are dating, huh?"

You nodded, avoiding the brunette's gaze. "Yeah, it is."

"She doesn't know how lucky she is."

You paused, wondering why you were no longer feeling any butterflies in your stomach whenever she was around. "I'm the lucky one, actually. Goodnight, Elizabeth."

"G-Goodnight, Y/n."

Like you said, the damage was already done.

[nonushu]

jealousy's a disease - choe hansol

genre: fluff, bestfriends to ???...🥺😊 | wc: 840 | non-idol!vernon x reader a/n: ok fineeeeee i'll stop writing for vernon now haha...

you hate him for this. you hate the way he sits there so beautifully, so blissfully, making you gawk at him—does he even know? does he know how his skin glows in the sun, or how gracefully his lashes flutter? does he even know how-

"what?"

vernon's voice cuts you out of your trance, his body facing you on the other side of the couch. his headphones rest around his neck as he stares at you in concern.

you raise your eyebrows, confused. "what?"

"i dunno, you were just... looking at me weird," he says, narrowing his eyes.

"was i?" you say softly, putting your book down, "well, sorry, didn't mean to weird you out."

he blinks, those eyelashes fluttering, again. "nah, it's cool,"

you nod, feeling something subtle building as you pretend to read, flipping to a random page. but vernon catches the shift in your expression.

"you okay, though?"

you perk up at him, meeting his suspicious gaze. "why would i not be okay?"

"'cause you're being kinda weird," he tuts, removing headphones to place them on the table. "did i do something?"

you sigh, mirroring his movements, placing your book down next to his headphones. "i don't know, vernon. did you?"

"well, no..." he mumbles, clearly muddled, "did you do something?"

"what? no," you scoff, feeling a little flustered. "no one did anything."

a pause falls over the room as the two of you stare at each other, the tension almost palpable. vernon shifts awkwardly before speaking again. “do you… not want me to stay anymore? i can leave if-”

“no!” you blurt out, your body instinctively inching closer to him on the couch. “why would you think that?”

“i don’t know!” he says, raising his hands defensively. “i just thought you were staring at me because you were getting sick of me or something.”

your heart skips a beat at his words, the sudden rush of panic rising. because the last thing you want is for him to leave.

"i wasn't," you quickly say.

he tilts his head. "okay... then what's wrong? you're acting..."

you open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out. how do you even explain it? how do you tell him how he makes you spiral from just being... him?

you cautiously reach your hand to face, finger lingering over his eye. you can see how his brown orbs widen at your sudden closeness as you softly touch his lashes. "has anyone ever told you that you have lashes to die for?"

vernon's breath hitches, his eyes fluttering. his lips part at the comfort of your touch. "uh," he mumbles, blinking rapidly when you pull your hand away. a faint blush creeps his neck, and he lets out a nervous chuckle. "n-no? that was kinda random."

you smile even though your heart races. "well, consider yourself blessed by the gods. i'm a little jealous..."

"of my eyelashes?" he asks, deadpanned.

"yeah..." you say quietly, "i don't know what you did in your past life to be so treasured."

he scoffs, “yeah, okay," he says, shaking his head with a playful smile. "i’m not sure i’ve ever been called ‘treasured’ before.”

you lean back against the couch, trying to steady your breath, and vernon watches you with a growing curiosity.

“is that what’s been bothering you?” he teases, his smile widening. “my lashes are just too nice?”

you glance at him, a bit annoyed by how easily he brushes it off. “maybe,” you murmur, though you both know it’s more than that.

"or," vernon’s smile falters, and his eyes narrow slightly like he’s starting to piece things together. "you're just jealous of my charms.”

you blink, caught off guard by his bluntness. “what? no, I didn’t say-”

“y'know, y/n, jealousy’s a disease,” he interrupts, grinning again, though there’s something softer in his gaze now, like he’s not entirely joking anymore. “do you need me to take you to the hospital? or should I call someone?”

you roll your eyes, feeling flustered. “don’t be stupid. i’m not actually jealous.”

but vernon doesn’t let it go, leaning closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “oh, but you kinda are, though. and I don’t think it’s just about my lashes.”

you can feel your face heating up under his stare, and your pulse quickens. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

he’s closer now, his tone gentler. “i think you do.”

your heart pounds in your chest, the playful banter suddenly taking a turn you didn’t expect. you meet his gaze, and the teasing light in his eyes fades, replaced by something else.

and in that moment, you realize: you’re not just jealous of his lashes, his effortless charm, or how everyone seems to adore him. scratch that, you're not even jealous! (maybe just a smidge).

maybe its the fact that he might not feel the same way you do.

but as vernon’s hand brushes against yours, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he does.

[mirroredmasquerader]

This is one of the first few things I drew in color for this nonsense I think

[midnight-bay-if]

Alright, everyone else gets angst posting, I’ll give it a shot.

How would the RO’s react to some sort of spell being cast on the MC, making them think their father is there? Some sort of ploy to get the MC closer to them, probably for harm.

Loving the story so far!!! :)

(Ouch, this hurts... My fellow pain enjoyers, rejoice! Also, apologies that this took so long to get to.)

S: They see it. The clarity in your eyes fog over, the once bright light filling with murky water. It's a sight S has witnessed often. You have been hit with a powerful curse to dominate your mind and fill your head with painful visions.

"Dad..."

You whisper the familial title like a solemn prayer, reaching out into the empty space before you, and S's chest lurches. They do not hesitate to act. In moments, they stand in front of you, grasping your face with both hands as they stare into your eyes, filling your vision with them rather than what they can only imagine coaxes you behind them.

"It isn't real. Look at me," they order, pressing their forehead against yours. "I'm so sorry, my love, but it isn't real. Whoever has cast this curse on you means to harm you, and I will not let that happen. Keep your eyes closed, darling. Keep them closed until I can take it away."

Rain: Rain doesn't understand what is happening. One moment, both of you were enjoying a bit of banter, a playful back-and-forth with teasing insults, before it stopped. Everything stopped.

"MC?"

Nothing. Then, something. You look straight past them as you call out to the darkness. "Dad..."

"Oh, no."

In a flash of realisation, Rain steps between you and the apparition. Anybody or anything willing to conjure up an image of your greatest wound does not have good intentions, but Rain cannot fight what they do not see.

"I'm sorry for this, MC," they whisper, clasping a hand firmly over your eyes. "Your dad isn't there, MC, I promise you that. I'm so sorry that I can't make it different."

Taj: Taj senses it before they see it. Something in the air, like a crack of electricity whipping across their skin. It causes the scars to ache. Then, Taj turns to you, ready to ask if you are sensing something similar. But what they are greeted with terrifies them.

Your usual colourful eyes have dampened as if a dark smog is purposefully shutting out the light. It scares them.

"Dad..."

Taj watches as you reach for an empty space, an lifeless smile on your face.

"Oi, Koel, snap out of it." Taj snaps in front of your face, their heart beating rapidly in their chest. When you keep reaching out to nothingness, Taj grabs your hand and holds it to their chest. "There's nothing there, so stop it. Please."

When even that doesn't seem to work, Taj snaps. "Oh, fuck it." With their forehead pressed firmly against yours, they hold you in place.

"Listen to me right now. Your dad is dead. You spent your entire life fucking shit up because of it, and I fuckin' love you for that. No matter how shit things got, you never gave up. So don't you dare fall to this now. Ya hear me?"

N: N knows dark magic when they see it. They are sure to some their magic could be considered dark. In their opinion, a little mind-reading wasn't really hurtful... Well, that was what they believed until meeting you. Now, they see you reaching out into nothing and feel their burning skin turn cold.

"Dad..."

"Oh, no you don't," they mutter, standing between you and the nothing you reach for. "Sorry, my dear, but I get terribly jealous. I can't let just anyone inside your head."

N is inside you in an instant. For once, they don't wish to see. Instead, they concentrate hard on creating some kind of barrier to stop access. "Feel free to punish me later. I'll wait with anticipation."

Umbra: Umbra has spent far too long gazing into your eyes. They have every tiny variation of colour seered into their mind. The instant the colour of your eyes becomes muted, their already pallid skin grows paler.

"Dad..."

They turn towards where you reach for, and they realise you are grasping at nothing.

This isn't like them. This moment isn't like theirs. They had no body to lose; it was given. But it breaks their heart to think you might believe this is possible thanks to what they are.

With a tentative touch, Umbra reaches up to cup your cheek, hoping the cold of their touch might serve as a light raft to pull you to safety from wherever your mind lays adrift. "Feel the cold, MC. Feel what is real, and know what is not. I'm sorry, I know it is selfish, but I need you back with me."

[innerfare]

Going Down On You - Part 4

Summary: how they go down on you

Characters: Katakuri, Marco, Kaidou, Killer, Heat

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, Kaidou is drunk (as usual)

——— 

Katakuri: 

There are two versions of this man: the brutal, serious, and fearsome general who never shows his face, and your husband. Though it took a long while for his walls to come down, they didn’t come down slowly. Rather, they crashed and burned, and the first time you saw his face, you also learned he had a voracious appetite, his desire to taste your cunt stronger even than his craving for his favorite donuts. 

“The tastiest treat in all of Totto Land, and it’s all mine.”  

You quickly become his merienda. He’ll create a mochi shrine to hide the two of you away and pull your bare cunt onto his face, lapping happily at your folds, humming as he does. He fully expects you to be available to him, particularly in trying times, as he needs the taste of you to fully recharge. He becomes extremely annoyed if anyone interrupts the two of you during his afternoon, resorting to brute force if anyone disturbs him. 

He prefers to lay on his back, thus the need for such privacy, as he would rather die than allow anyone to know how vulnerable he is at this time. Worse still, he’s sweet, kissing your cunt between licks, only tongue fucking you for a few seconds at a time before he’s licking up your juices and kissing your clit, every pet name and sweet nothing in the book spilling from his lips as he indulges in you. 

“Better than donuts, my sweet little wife’s pussy.” 

Marco: 

He’s normally so relaxed and calm, always in control without having to assert dominance as it rolls off him so naturally. He doesn’t want to be a Warlord, doesn’t want to be an Emperor, just wants to go with the flow and have some adventures with his family. But when he gets your panties off, he goes a little feral. Sure, he’s methodical in the way he starts with your lips, spends time on your nipples, and kisses his way down your body until he’s lapping at your cunt, but he’s also an animal about it. 

His nails dig into your thighs as he pries them apart. He grips you so hard you’ll have bruises in a few hours. And he’s merciless in tonguing you, working as many orgasms out of you until you’re begging him to stop, and when he does stop, it’s only to fuck you because tasting you makes him rock hard, the sort of hard that won’t simply go away unless you’re there to do something about it. 

He’s been known to tie you up so he can work in peace without having to hold your legs and arms down, freeing up his fingers to twist your nipples or massage your precious g-spot, but the thing is, he almost never ties you up in bed. If he ties you up, it’s going to be in his office or another location that’s private but where you run the risk of being discovered. The guys all know what that bundle of rope in his office is for, but none of them are brave enough to say anything. 

Kaidou: 

Kaidou often gets drunk and demands your presence, ordering you to strip down for him while he watches in begrudging approval. When you’re naked, he’ll tell you to do things like turn around and bend over so he can enjoy the view, sometimes making you stay that way for several minutes. When he’s especially drunk, though, he doesn’t bother going through all of that, just ripping the kimono straight from your body. 

“Do you wear clothes just to inconvenience me?” 

And when he’s decided he can’t hold back his appetite any longer, he’ll grab you in both of his massive hands and hold you where he wants you, burying his face in your cunt while he grunts like the beast he is. He enjoys the size difference, gets off to the sight of his massive tongue running through your folds. 

“This is worth living for, my favorite girl’s pussy.” 

Sometimes, he gets so drunk he forgets to dismiss his men and attendants. Sure, they all scurry off once you either remove or he rips your kimono off, scampering out of the room for fear of retribution should their emperor realize they’ve seen his favorite girl naked, but everyone knows what he does to you on those drunken nights. If they haven’t seen him strip you without warning, they’ve at least heard your whimpers and whines echoing from his chambers while he growls at you to stay still. 

Killer: 

It’s not often that the mask comes off, but when it does, it’s always in the dark of night, usually in his cabin when it’s just the two of you, and he always goes down on you. He doesn’t ever give you any warning, saying aloud that he’s going to take the mask off putting pressure on his shoulders to perform a certain way, so it always comes as a surprise when you feel his bare cheek pressed against your abdomen as he kisses his way down your body. 

“Our secret,” he mutters, turned on by just how much the two of you know about each other that nobody else does. 

He goes slow, savoring every last second of the intimate moment. He spends so much time sucking on your nipples you almost cum from that alone, whimpering as he refuses to finger you while he works. He moves slowly down your abdomen and nuzzles your thighs for a long few moments, so taken by the feel of your soft skin against his cheek he considers leaving his mask off permanently. 

“That’s my girl, so fucking soft.” 

When he finally starts prodding your hole with his tongue, working it inside you, he’s moaning as loud as you are. He always starts by tongue fucking you, eager to taste you while stretching you, and when he thinks you’re ready for his big fingers, he moves his tongue to your clit, going back to your hole every thirty seconds or so to lick up your juices. He’ll work several orgasms out of you that way. 

Heat: 

Actually so gentle when you finally reach a point where you trust him enough to let him between your legs. He takes this privilege very seriously and is worried he might do something to mess it up. After all, everyone has always told him what a monster he is, and sometimes, he really is a monster, so gaining access to your most sensitive area truly does make him a little fearful he’ll upset and even hurt you. 

“You won’t regret it,” he says in your ear, voice almost a whisper. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.” 

He lays you down and gingerly pushes your legs apart, slowly but surely, and it takes him a minute to lean in because he’s so overwhelmed that you trusted him enough to let him do this to you. And that’s all while your panties are still on. He can see the wet spot, can see the outline of your cunt- he just knows your pussy is so perfect- and his mouth waters as he realizes he’s the one who gets to taste it. 

Something about pulling your panties off feels a little overwhelming, so he gently pushes them to the side, breathless at the sight of your glistening pussy. His tongue slithers from between his lips and pokes nervously at your folds. You end up reaching down and holding your panties to the side and your outer lips apart for him as he gently tongues your cunt. He slowly increases the pressure until he’s devouring you, the most lewd sounds surely drifting under the door and into the hallway. After you’re finished, he’ll nuzzle your inner thigh a bit. You two wind up staying in that position for a while as he basks in your presence. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[neocrias]

Taking a bus

warnings: descriptions; headcanons; reader self insert

pairings: svt x fem!reader

gender/aus: fluff and slightly suggestive

Scoups

Cheol won’t leave you with your back to the aisle. Never. As soon as you enter the bus, train, subway… Scoups will find an empty seat so you can lean your back and he will stand in front of you, one hand holding the top bars and the other leaning on the metal wall behind you - obviously, you stared at the muscles in his arms standing out in his black shirt and obviously, he noticed. The arrogant smile is an almost automatic movement, as is the arch of his eyebrow (yeah I’m a HUGE fan of this). He will lean over you, flexing his arms even more to corner you, and will laugh when you squirm in embarrassment, then being the provocateur that he is, Cheol will get closer until your lips are almost together only to pull away when you try to bring them together. But don’t worry, he will kiss you after laughing at your need.

Jeonghan

Surprisingly the train wasn't crowded today, although there wasn't an empty seat for you to sit on, you managed to get comfortable enough to play a few games. He had his back against the door and you were facing him, both of you very busy playing rock paper scissors and by some carelessness, you lost your balance when the carriage shook abruptly and to avoid falling forward you held on to Jeonghan who laughed evilly and obviously wasn't going to let this go unnoticed. "This game is different.." he would say or maybe "if you wanted to hug me you just had to ask", and when you rolled your eyes to move away - feeling extremely embarrassed - he would pull you back, hugging you tighter and leaving a kiss on the top of your forehead.

Joshua

He's a tease and hasn't left you alone since the minute you left the house. After you've been embarrassed by his jokes, you decide that you are going to stop paying attention to him and get on the bus with a scowl. Joshua kept bumping his knee against yours, poking your waist, or pulling your hair. You would tell him to stop and with the utmost cynicism he would respond "stop what? I'm not doing anything" using that angelic face of his that fools anyone. You huffed in anger and crossed your arms, turning your face to the window. Joshua would smile sweetly and hold your chin between his fingers, pulling you towards him and leaving a chaste and slow kiss that would surely make you soft for him.

Jun

Despite his reputation for being quiet, Jun can never hold back when he's with you. So the collection of embarrassing stories you have together is not small and this was just one more in the huge list of both of you. You were gossiping about a person you hate and the conversation was kept quiet due to the common noise of public transport. What you didn't count on was that everyone fell silent together right when Jun said something embarrassing about the person. His cheeks automatically turned red and he hid his face in the crook of your neck, hugging your waist. You, being the good girlfriend, laughed at him - finding him extremely cute - with a loud laugh that only made him shrink even more in embarrassment.

Wonwoo

You and Wonwoo had recently argued over a silly reason but neither of you wanted to give in, so you started ignoring him in the college hallways and he did the same. Your cold war lasted the entire morning, but Wonwoo couldn't stand another second of it, so when he saw you get on the same bus as he was on, Wonwoo stood up to let you sit by the window next to him. You tried to ignore him and walk past him, but the boy didn't accept it and wrapped his arm around your waist, stopping you from going any further and pointing to the empty seat. "Please," he said in a firm and convinced voice, it wasn't a request, "you won't get away with this."

Hoshi

You were coming back from another tiring day at college, wanting nothing more than to get home and rest when you saw an empty seat at the back of the bus next to Hoshi who waved happily at you and a discreet smile appeared on his lips. You walked confidently, but when the driver didn't slow down to go over a speed bump, you stumbled straight into Hoshi's lap, managing to stay standing by being able to react quickly and hold the window behind him. "Is this your way of asking to remember our kiss?", Hoshi teased with a mischievous smile that made you roll your eyes. You respond with a "shut up", but you can't help but laugh when he puts his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer.

Woozi

Who would have thought that two guys would start fighting right next to you? Sure, one of them seemed extremely drunk and that's a perfect invitation for everything to go wrong, but it was late afternoon on a random Tuesday and all you and your boyfriend wanted to do was get home after the perfect date at the beach. The fight escalated very quickly and soon one of the guys got up from the chair he was in angrily, going after the drunk man next to you. Being the protective boyfriend that Woozi is, he wasted no time in putting his arm around you so that you were further away from the mess and he could put himself as a shield between the arguing men and you.

Dokyeom

For some reason, this was being a bad day for you and your self-esteem was very fragile - not that you knew why, you just felt that way today. Dokie, on the other hand, was worried about your affected semblant and not even his broken mood was making you smile for real today. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he would ask, showering you with compliments the whole trip and when you still didn’t believe him he would turn to the girls sitting behind you - ignoring your pleas for him to stop. “Hey girls, don’t you think my girlfriend is beautiful? No, no, seriously! Wouldn’t you date her if you were me?” he would ask. Despite being embarrassed, you couldn’t deny that you were happier than you had been at the beginning of the day.

Mingyu

The subway was crowded and your effort to stay in place didn't stop you from staggering back and forth as you were pushed by the crowd of people. Mingyu, who at first thought it was cute and funny to see you struggle, sympathized with your little problem and, stood very steady (after all, it's not easy to push a man that size and yes, I am a HUGE fan of the 1.87cm Mingyu) will offer to be your support. First, he will flex his muscles to show off, assuming that you would hold his arm, but it is he who will be embarrassed when you hug his waist tightly, resting your cheek against his chest. "Wow, you started working out." you would joke, eliciting an amused laugh from him who would leave a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

Minghao

You got on the bus hoping that there would be at least one seat available for you to sit down - there wasn't and you would spend the entire trip standing. As fate would have it, a very handsome boy noticed your smile falling and offered his seat to you. After much insistence, you accepted, blushing because of him and of course, you texted your friends as you sat down. You were so focused on typing that you didn't notice him reading the message over his shoulder, "So you think I'm handsome?" his whispered voice cut through the silence. You blinked in a daze watching him smile mischievously and didn't even react when he took your cell phone, he returned it after a few seconds with a wink and got off the bus. When you looked at your cell phone, his number was already saved. Minghao.

Seungkwan

You’ve been dating for a long time, but Seungkwan has never stopped being a perfect gentleman with you. So when he saw an empty seat on the bus, he made you sit down and stood next to you, the two of you holding hands while you talked about everything and anything. For a second, you were distracted from what he was saying and brought his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles tenderly. This made Seungkwan stop talking and smile, looking at you with heart-shaped eyes. Seungkwan will lift your chin with his index finger and leave a long kiss on your lips before he resumes speaking. Your hands will remain intertwined even when a seat becomes free next to you or when you arrive at your destination.

Vernon

You don't know each other, even though you go to the same school, take the same bus, and live on the same street. You've bumped into each other a few times, but apart from that you've never really talked. Until one day you were wearing headphones that were playing music too loudly and it was one of Vernon's favorite bands, which made him lean towards you, trying to hear the music better. You noticed and took off your headphones, "Can you hear it?" you asked and he replied with a "yes... that band is awesome". Needless to say, you offered to share your headphones with him the whole way and that - maybe - the next day Vernon will even get up the courage to ask you out on a date.

Dino

You and Dino have been studying together for many years, but it was only a few months ago that he plucked up the courage to ask you out and, since the feeling was mutual, you took advantage of every moment you could spend together. Since you took the same bus to go home, you would come together, your hand always lightly caressing your thigh, or holding hands and giving lots and lots of kisses. One day, however, an old lady who was sitting next to you laughed and playfully murmured to the person next to him “those young people… they know how to enjoy young love”, which left both of you embarrassed and with red cheeks - this did not diminish the PDA between you, however.

[mythalism]

what if solas was a spirit of faith?

ok hear me out. i dont 100% prescribe to this theory. most of the evidence we have is in favor of solas being a wisdom spirit, however when i was writing this post i came across something that made me go hm.

now, not everything david gaider says is automatically canon. in fact, david gaider regularly and loudly says a lot of racist, misogynistic, and generally awful things about his own games and characters, so i actually do not respect his opinion at all.

however he was indeed the lead writer for dragon age: inquisition and had input into solas's writing, so i think for him to say this means it was at least something the developers talked about and agreed upon at that time.

the wiki's citation leads to a forum post by gaider from july 2013:

"the corruption of faith is pride".

hm.

also notable is that david gaider is the writer of cassandra, and i bring this up because solas's banters with cassandra are basically the foundation of this, and why i started thinking about it in the first place.

solas is a lot of things. definitely a pride demon. an judgemental jerk, a lot of the time. a "mirror", as his writer puts it. a staunch atheist as well. extremely critical of anyone who claims godhood. and......... strangely respectful of *checks notes* THE MAKER???????

for someone who spends so much time decrying the corruption of false gods, many people have found solas's banter with cassandra to be out of character. and it is pretty jarring when placed in context with the rest of his statements.

remember that spirits embody a particular single virtue, and will do whatever they can to bring it forth in others:

“Spirits are not complex in the sense that they seize upon a single facet of human experience, and this one idea becomes their identity.[3] They are formed as a reflection of the real world and its passions.[10] A spirit embodies and latches onto a specific purpose and will do all in its power to fulfill that purpose. For instance, a hunger demon will attempt to feed on anything it crosses,[4] and a spirit of justice will stop at nothing to uphold its name”

solas, strangely, speaks of cassandra's faith with great respect and even reverence. he mentions her faith several times in their banter, and rather than criticize it as foolish as you might assume from someone who embodies pride, led a rebellion against false gods, and does not hesitate to hold back his judgement when he disapproves of something, solas actively encourages cassandra's continued faith in both the maker and herself.

he tells her that her position, of a seeker of truth (an arm of the templars which he despises?) and right hand of the divine, is "an honorable one and well-earned" and that her presence is a comfort, because there is no lie in what she is:

he outright mentions spirit of faith as gentle spirits that cannot afford to be lost to corruption:

he tells cassandra he is impressed by her faith, after the revelations about the truth of the seekers:

he praises her templar abilities and the maker?????

and, most notably....

when cassandra learns the truth about the seeker vigil and her abilities being borne of a ritual involving a spirit of faith, he tells her...

she should be proud

part of the reason these banters are so confusing and seemingly out of character of solas is due to his comments on the nature of gods, organized religion, and belief at other points throughout the game.

but i believe there is a common thread to them, and that it is not faith that he criticizes, but those who take advantage of it.

some of the best examples of his disgust for one who uses someones faith in them to accrue power are with a low-approval inquisitor. what he hates are those who manipulate faith in others.

solas hates to see faith corrupted by falsity.

but why would he hate such a thing so much? why does he actively encourage cassandra's faith in the maker, while criticizing an inquisitor who used the people's faith in andraste to amass power? well, because it reminds him of the evanuris, of course. but i think there could be more to it than just that.

whatever kind of spirit solas was, we (pretty much) know that he came into being at the behest of mythal according to cole:

we also know that solas was deeply devoted to mythal in the time of elvhenan, and even thousands of years later, he staunchly defends her as someone worthy of his faith, admiration and respect.

he approves of completing her rituals in the temple of mythal:

and greatly disapproves if you do not:

he cannot stand to let morrigan misrepresent her in dialogue (lol):

he even actually refers to her as a goddess at one point, despite often asserting that the ancient elvhen gods were not gods:

and, of course, the way he speaks of her in trespasser is quite literally reverent, as he reveals her murder was the catalyst for his entire rebellion:

could solas have been borne of mythal's faith? of the people's faith in her? of her faith in her people? of her faith in herself? of the People's faith in each other? how does he still have such faith in her after all of these years?

keeping in mind the way a spirit becomes corrupted,

combined with solas's answer to cassandra's question about what he truly believes, to which he answers that he believes in people:

and of course this new mural:

could solas have originally been a spirit of faith, corrupted into pride by the evanuris's abuse of the virtue he embodied? a spirit of faith, borne of mythal's faith in her people, and turned into pride when her people, her own family, betrayed her? when their gods proved false and the only thing left to have faith in was themselves?

as much as i love this and think it fits, it cant be ignored that there is equal, if not more, that suggests he was a spirit of wisdom first. however this is so clearly intentional and satisfying that i dont think it's a coincidence - they're definitely doing something with this. whether or not solas was always Pride and thus he is just drawn towards the two other sides of his coin, wisdom and faith, or if he was one and corrupted into pride, i dont know, but i think faith and the manipulation of it to evil ends will continue to be integral to his story.

[lafiola]

The blood ran down your tongue like a stream of fire, with moisture soaking your throat as the nectar, bitter and uncomfortable, clung to your palate like mucous. When you stopped sucking and pushed your tongue upward, closing your eyes even tighter, with more regret stinging behind your eyelids, you stopped the rush of hot blood hitting the inside of your mouth; with nausea bursting from your stomach like a swirl, upward, occupying your nose like a metallic puff and gasping breath.

You pushed the arm away from your lips, pulling your tongue away from the cold flesh; missing the particular scent of an intoxicating musk. When you opened your eyes you found the face of Armand, with a lost look and the ghost of a smile. You did not reciprocate the gesture, affected to the core with the impact of his blood dripping from your mouth.

"How does that feel, ma chérie?"

His low voice sounded like a forbidden question, in the solitude of his office, between you and no one else. The theater slept soundly in the gloom; you were engaged in a forced process in the loneliness of a cold corner, cut off from the world.

"Why?" you whispered back, wrapped in misery. "Why did you do this to me?"

"You were asking for it all this time."

"I could never..." The question crouched at the back of your throat; the stark, raw realization hit you like another wave of nausea. "I have to go home. I have to finish my paintings and..."

"This is your home," Armand interrupted, wrapping one of his hands around your neck, "here you can do your paintings. This is your coven."

His eyes hung from one corner of the room, just for an instant. When they were on yours again you found a particular glint hanging from his gaze. His fingers pressed against the skin of your nape; his hand forced the thrust against the flesh. Your body hit the back of the chair.

"Armand," you muttered in warning.

"I am your companion," he continued. "We are companions."

"I've never accepted something like that. I don't know what it means."

"That you're mine," he smiled. "There's nothing more to understand here."

"I don't want this eternity as my destiny," you insisted in desperation. "Armand, I want to go home."

Your body began to tremble in an abrupt burst of pain; confusion clouded your senses, and you did not know when it was that your maker had let go of your neck.

"I'll get you something to eat," he said rising from his seat. "It would be helpful if you start to assume your position in this place before I get back."

"What's happening to me?"

You hugged your own body, straining your eyes in all directions until you met the piercing gaze of the one holding onto the office door; firm hands caressing the rough surface, tracing blood on the wood. Armand looked unrecognizable from the sweet man you had met on the avenue on your way to the theater.

"What's happening to me?" you sobbed, surrendered to pain and hunger. "What have you done to me; what have you transformed me into."

"You're going to get through it. Everything else I'll take care of," Armand replied. "There's not going to be anything you lack, much less anyone you need."

You thought you cried his name, choking in supplication, confused by the pain. You felt yourself falling into a constant spiral of nausea, hunger and hatred; a whisper at the back of your head driving your madness around. The voice was unmistakable.

'Only me,' as he commanded in a mantra. 'It's only me.'

[xandermatthews2290]

The Carousel Hanging Still Bothers Me

Like what did using the carousel to hang Arei from the rafters accomplish? She has a broken neck now which means I guess she died faster, but I don’t see how that makes the killers life particularly easier especially factoring in the time it would have taken to do half this stuff.

I need to know the why of this killer, I couldn’t give less of a crap about their motive right now but what the hell is this setup?!

There’s no real benefit outside of creating a semi-ambiguous time of death, why even choose this method?

I don’t want this to be some stupid seesaw effect 2.0, that plan didn’t even make any goddamn sense, Kork can just stop singing and fully slam his body into a loosed floorboard without any of the other 3 people in the room noticing a change in volume.

What would have actually changed in this murder if they’d just knocked Arei out and strangled her with the rope they used to hang her?

if the answer is nothing then this murder is gonna have that weird flourish on it

This clearly wasn’t a framed suicide job either, the rules are explicit in the fact that suicides don’t get trials or graduates, so any plan to make this not look like a murder is objectively pointless

If you wanna fuck with the cause of death, then just strangle her and stab her in the throat afterwards, smother her with a starchy ball of clothing, stomp her head in, why the fuck would anyone go for the old “build a pulley to the rafters 40 feet up so I can break her neck”