#like. to be an individual is to always be kinda lonely. to be apart from other things

[funnywormz]

im gonna be honest. if star trek was real i would probably go find my nearest borg cube and get assimilated lol. obv the borg suck bc they force assimilation without consent but still......... something abt the concept of being asssimilated is so oddly compelling to me it's like a siren song......... i kinda want to be borg............. i can't even begin to wonder what implications this has abt my psychological state LMAO 😐😐😐

[simplystaticstrike]

📺 *⁠.⁠✧ VOX × READER *⁠.⁠✧ 📺

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ WARNING:

Cursing. Insults. Manipulation? Degradation. Rude behavior. Mentions of depravity and loneliness.

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ GENRE/THEME:

Hate-Love. Loving hatred. Unrequited attraction. Speculative attraction.

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ SYNOPSIS:

Vox is known for being a cocky and confident overlord, famously known for his Vox-Tech. His behavior is rather rash, and no one even thinks about standing up to him. Well, all apart from this one determined critic who is looking out to make his flaws known.

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ AUTHORS NOTE:

This is technically my first time writing an OFFICIAL fanfic, so apologies if it isn't TOO great or professional. This isn't proof read so try to look over the mistakes, if there are any!

Always striving for personal growth, Vox was a motivated individual constantly preoccupied with his numerous responsibilities. He cherished the VEES, as their workplace possessed an air of authority that lead to carefully considered decisions, having a lasting impact on thousands. Embracing a luxurious aesthetic from its granite walls to lavish mahogany floors and comfortable handcrafted desks, the high ellipsoidal ceilings grace each room with both spaciousness and importance. There was no room for anyone else or any kind of hobby with Vox's overbearing passions and works. Being alone, however, made him reflect on his decisions in life. He wondered if he had chosen the right path. As a child, he had always dreamed of a family of his own. Yet as a young, independent adult, he found himself more alone than he had ever been. Despite the joy and cheer he saw all around him, specifically emitting from Velvette and Valentino, Vox just couldn't feel it too. Truly and genuinely at least. With no one to share his thoughts or feelings with, he often sat by himself in his room, contemplating his life choices. He found himself wishing for a companion, someone to celebrate his accomplishments with and make him feel less lonely. However, another part of him told him that what he was looking for wasn't another person and he only assumed that because of the undertaking tension that festered within past relationships. He didn’t particularly like to think about that. Instead, what seemed to be his main purpose to live involved business and business only. He lost himself in the worlds created by successful businessmen, savoring every detail; their days were spent in a routine of hard work and introspection. They found solace in their businesses. Vox wanted that too, more than anything.

The VEE headquarters was its usual tranquil self, with employees busily typing away and chatting on the phone in their spacious cubicles. The labyrinthine workspace seemed to stretch on forever, each area was a unique world populated by a diverse array of individuals. There were the quiet ones, the loud ones, and those who loved to boast about their sadistic affairs. Vox, on the other hand, was as usual, on the move, determined to make progress. He strode confidently over to the excited crowd awaiting his approach,

Vox was ready to tackle his next challenge:

"Hello, my lovely patrons! I'm assuming you all are looking for some form of reassurance after that crazy battle at lil princess morningstar's hotel, yeah?" The overlord questioned the chaotic crowd, his voice loud and clear.

"Yes, sir!"

"Are you still working on those angelic securities?" The angels will definitely come back with full force next time, right?"

"why, of course! Your safety is our priority after all!" Vox declared, outstretching his hands out in a gesture of triumph.

"but, sir! Is that even necessary? I mean, the princess and her band of misfits kinda showed those angels up! So, wouldn't we just need some angelic weapons?" No cameras and shit, right?"

Vox was taken aback by the sudden question, and his voice was infused with disbelief: "Heh, I mean weapons aren't ALL you need. Have I ever stood you all wrong before?" He crossed his arms, quirking a single brow.

Silence.

Then a scoff.

Vox's jaw tightened as he trained his eyes on the customer that dismissed his statement. "excuse me?" He watched as they stepped forward, pushing past the other customers determinedly. "And you are?"

"Y/n," They stated, extending their hand out for a hand shake. "Professional critic; Been following you for a long time, Vox."

“Really now?” Vox questioned quietly, hesitantly accepting the handshake. He crossed his arms, continuing broodingly, "What do I need a critic for, eh?"

"The truth is bound to come out eventually, right?" The critic began, also crossing their arms as if they were mimicking the overlord. "So, I must say that it is because of you and your not so delightful personality, sir. I have heard countless of statements from employee's who are just tired of working for you. Now, I'm not saying you're a bad person. You're just hard to deal with and that's just me being conservative."

Vox blinked, craning his head to look back at his subordinates who quickly scattered away in worry. Looking back at Y/n, he forced a polite smile. A part of him had expected that answer, but another part had hoped for something entirely different.

“I can be demanding at times and may push the policies here and there to achieve success, but that's not enough reason to complain, now is it?” He narrowed his gaze onto the critic, as if he were challenging them. “Tell me, what did I do that was so terrible and difficult to deal with? What have you heard? Please, tell."

Y/n winced, pausing before answering, "Vox," they began, pulling a notepad out of their bag before they started reading off some statements from employees, "working with him was enjoyable at first, but over time, it became exhausting as he relied too heavily on me for things that didn't even fit into my department. It felt as if he was just using me to cover up his back."

Vox took a deep breath and clenched his fists. His screen glitched in frustration as he addressed Y/n, "They are MY employees. It's their job to cover my back and handle the workload. That's what they're getting paid for. What else am I supposed to do as their mentor? Play golf?" He took a step closer to the critic, his expression intensifying greatly.

Y/N flinched, "I understand that," they responded cautiously. "But THEY don't enjoy doing so much, and I don't feel like you appreciate them. You think of them as your servants and expect them to go above and beyond their duties."

Vox grimaced, taking a step closer, closing the distance almost entirely. “I'm doing the best I can, so please stop portraying me as the villain. I'm not asking too much from them. All I expect is for them to fulfill their responsibilities. If I were such a terrible supervisor,” he then muttered begrudgingly, “then my employees are even more terrible workers. They're only staying to be paid half of what their worth, but just enough to keep them coming back for more."

"are you kidding me?" Y/n asked cautiously, trying to hide their apprehension. "You--"

"Ya know, I am an honest man." Vox interrupted and jumped at the critics side, invasively wrapping an arm around them. "As honest as one could be! And to be COMPLETELY honest, I don't think being a critic is really the right career path for you, my dear. How about..." He paused, tightening his hold around Y/n. "A day laborer? You've got the look and a solid reputation to match, so why not consider a day laborer position? Although the work may be menial and leave you covered in dirt and grime, you'll do a great job, I’m sure. However, let's not kid ourselves – this is no cushy gig. But, given your lifestyle, you're more than capable of tackling it.”

“What the hell?!” y/n exclaimed, visibly offended. They pushed Vox away forcefully and slammed their notebook to the ground below, “That's so degrading!"

“It's yours. The job offer, I mean.”

“Wha— this is . . . why are you like this?”

Vox expression feigns solemnity, “You’re right. I haven’t appreciated my employees as much as I should have been. I know I’m a bit difficult to work with, but I’m sorry for taking them for granted. Their presence will definitely be appreciated from now on. I’m sure of it. Just as YOUR presence would be appreciated anywhere but here."

“You’re literally saying I’d be perfect doing unglamorous tasks, you fuckin' prick!” Y/n argued, defensively.

"Think twice and check yourself before you speak if glamor is what you're seeking, babes." Vox mused with a hint of sarcasm, booping the critic's nose. Then his voice got exceptionally lower, "But, I will admit, my dear, no one has ever stood up to me like this before. It's quite riveting.

I just might continue my distasteful behavior if it means you'll stick around and talk shit about me."

Surely, this was all a part of Vox's facade. He could careless if you come back or not, or at least that's what he told himself. Maybe, just maybe, if he had to choose to spend his time with anyone, it'd be y/n:

Because they surely were something.

[cosmicalily]

As Loved By The Aces - All Members

୨୧ a Cherry Song Series ୨୧ Inspired by The Aces ♠

A series of individual-member centred stories based on songs by my favourite indie band, The Aces, portraying different love stories, emotions and people.

Each member is allocated a song by The Aces that reminds me of them, and a fic is written based on that. Releases won't necessarily be in order! I recommend listening to the individual song that the fic is based on for best experience, but feel free to listen to them all. I've made a playlist for easy access to the songs in order.

Updates may be sporadic or all at once

Concept: nostalgia, lots of different romance tropes, heartbreak, teenage love, emotional struggle

Series playlist: Spotify

୨୧ the Tracklist ୨୧

★ Track 1: B.C - Always Get This Way

I don't remember when it took over, all I know now is it controls me, and I don’t wanna call you, but I can’t really sleep, and I’ve been wearing a smile, pretending to eat, oh I swear, that I can explain, no

★ Track 2: M.H - Attention

I'm tired of tearing you apart, know your heart has had enough, it's obvious, you're starved for affection, and you need more, and you need more, you need more attention

★ Track 3: C.B - Last One

I can’t, I can’t stop, I can’t start without you, you’ve been, killing me taking all my attention, I don’t, I don’t need another song about you, so this is the last one, this is the last one

★ Track 4: H.J - I’ve Loved You For So Long

You're taking me back, babe, to where it all started, wearing your hair up in your New York apartment, I swear, I've loved you for so long, I'd do it again

★ Track 5: J.S -  Miserable

Now it’s a pain, I’m so tortured and vain, just wanna feel better, I finally got what I want, finally got, what I want, but the next part’s kinda comical, I’m still fucking miserable

★ Track 6: Y.B - Stay

Don’t be lonely ‘cause you’re not alone, gotta send me pictures, save em to my room, if I fly to see you would it feel like home? If I change my number, you’re the first to know.

★ Track 7: S.M - Going Home

I love everything about you, you know, even all of the the things you say you don’t like, nothing I don’t like, I love that you never pretend with me, even from the start you taught me to be, nothing but me

★ Track 8: J.I - Younger

I was somewhere in the middle of nowhere, I learnt to put on a face just to have friends, perpetually wanting something more than myself, more than I was

[sushicha]

Let's be better about Shourtney/Shartney

Borrowing this Shourtney/Shartney rant from my IG! I originally made this when the evidence got super clear, and I was scared the ship was about to explode in popularity and people were gonna freak out 😬 that hasn't necessarily happened (yet), but I still want the advice out there:

This is kind of a semi-rant and word of caution about the shipping of Shayne and Courtney. Tumblr and IG are pretty much the only two places to talk about this.

So if you've been following the Shourtney hashtag on IG, or have seen evidence here on Tumblr, it's becoming increasingly clear that Shayne and Courtney are dating. With what's been brought to light, it's fairly certain.

I'm the first to admit that I've shipped these two for a while and that I was always curiously looking for proof. There wasn't much evidence prior to 2021, so that's likely around when they started actually dating. Even as the evidence was really pouring in and some of it was kinda stalkerish, I was still morbidly curious, and I know a lot of you did the same. Guilty as charged, I'm a lonely hoe... 😔

I'll start by saying the evidence is NOT from videos. I know a lot of you have tried to use their gazes and interactions in Smosh videos as "proof" for years, but body language is not evidence. There's a million ways to interpret a "gaze" or how they talk to and interact with each other. Courtney especially has that type of aura about her where she's very comforting and has great chemistry with others, so what people interpret as "flirting" is just her normal friendly behavior (it's very reminiscent of how men will sometimes misinterpret women just being nice to them as "flirting"). And despite the fact that they're likely in a relationship, nothing about how they interact now is tangibly different than previous years. They're professionals, they're actors, and Smosh is very self-aware that Shourtney drives up viewer engagement, so there's no doubt they've played it up at times.

But... regardless of how little evidence there is in videos, there's other stuff out there which makes it safe to say they're dating. Look for it yourself, I'll no longer be sharing that info.

To me, it appears like it's more of an "open secret" at this point, like a "if you know, you know" type thing. Courtney is more comfortable posting pictures in Shayne's clothes, Courtney's vlogging in their apartment now... I feel like they're at least at peace with the fact that SOME of us know, especially because the Shourtney fandom is still pretty underground and not a lot of people have seen the harder evidence.

Some might be asking, then, why don't they just go public and get it over with??? Damaige did, so why not them???

Why WOULD they, is the real question?

Public relationships are so complicated. All semblance of real privacy vanishes. Everyone suddenly has some opinion on your relationship. People still analyze the shit out of your body language. People still attribute the woman or fem-presenting person's success to the man. People become entitled to personal information. If you guys breakup, people make wild assumptions and take sides. It becomes a breeding ground for the worst aspects of parasocial behavior. Public relationships sound like a complete nightmare. Having to ignore all of the problematic comments while constantly looking over your shoulder sounds like a complete nightmare. People wanna live their lives privately and be known for their personal accomplishments and skills, not their relationship. Shayne and Courtney are both talented individuals BY THEMSELVES.

They have both expressed in videos and podcasts that neither want to have public relationships. They almost always go bad.

But the unfortunate reality is that their relationship being "exposed", even if it's at a relatively small scale, has been seemingly against their will. While Courtney said in a recent Q&A what she posts is intentional, that might not be the case for friends who accidentally exposed Shourtney. It must suck to have to be so careful about what you post and with who, especially at large parties and whatnot. So much is out of your control. Like, who the fuck wants to closely analyze reflections in windows and shit? Or have to tell someone you might barely know not to post a picture of you two?

Maybe they'll address it at some point. Maybe they won't. Making the comparison to Damien and Saige was always completely unfair because Damaige going public was their own personal decision. Shayne and Courtney are completely different people and may have a different line of thinking on the matter. That's not to mention, Saige has expressed a few times on her Twitch that she regrets going public with her relationship and it only made weird incels attribute her successes to Damien even more.

So what should the fans do???

Not be fucking assholes and creeps. Not be misogynistic. Call out assholish, creepy, misogynistic behavior. Not make wild speculations, or become entitled to their personal lives. Don't send Shayne or Courtney (or anyone they know) weird DM's about it. That type of thing. Keep it chill, talk among us Shourtney stans if you must, and live your fucking life, man. Find your own relationship 😅

I know most of the Shourtney stans have been pretty respectful, all things considered. A few bad apples, stalkers, etc. But whatever weird shit that happened on that (now shutdown) Shourtney Discord server should stay in digital hell.

Shayne and Courtney are gonna share what they wanna share. I make this post foreseeing that they may eventually feel the need to say something, but if I'm wrong and they say absolutely nothing, so be it. They've both said shipping is okay because it's content and mostly harmless, but clearly there's a line. And if you see someone crossing it, call them out!

That's all 🙏 I probably won't post much Shourtney content from here on out, but I'll be around. Feel free to discuss it or ask me stuff. ☺️

[jujutsubaby]

chemical reactions (part 3)

☆ pairing: zeke jaeger x pieck finger ☆ summary: when pieck traveled to faraway trost for a prestigious research position, she expected to feel lonely. what she last expected was to find a bit of home in her supervisor. ☆ warnings: chronic illness and parental death discussed ☆ tags: modern AU, academia AU, slow-burn, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers ☆ a/n: another slower setup chapter, but we get to see more of pieck and her dad's relationship (and more of that sweet sweet angst) in this one. side note, i can't believe isayama just straight up named her dad "finger"? lol. i'm gonna hc his name as "pieter" in this since i think it'd be cute for it to kinda match pieck :3 masterlist

After her meeting with Zeke, Pieck had just enough time to return to her apartment, get her suitcase, and head to the airport for her afternoon flight back to Marley. She was excited to see her father and friends — Pieck had not realized it, but these few months had been the longest she had been away from Liberio. For all its flaws, it still was her home.

Pieck could not imagine someone like Zeke, who had been so far from home for over a decade. She was usually able to tell if people were from Marley, but it had been difficult for her to tell with Zeke. She supposed that living in Paradis for so long had estranged him from Liberio. Would the same happen to her eventually?

After boarding the airplane and hauling her suitcase into the overhead bin, Pieck settled into her seat. The flight was several hours long, but she was still grateful for that — until recently, the only way to reach Paradis from Liberio had been through a weeklong sea voyage. Still tired from her late night, early morning, and general jitters, she was looking forward to using the empty hours ahead of her to catch up on sleep.

Sleep did not arrive as quickly as Pieck anticipated, and she found her mind continually wandering to her childhood acquaintance-turned-research advisor. What a bizarre turn of events.

What was curious to Pieck was that Liberio was a relatively small city, tiny when one considered just the Eldian community. Like many tiny communities, one individual's news always became everybody's news. Pieck had at least heard of most of the Eldians from her hometown, and what they were doing now. But she had heard so little of Zeke — little enough that she had even been able to forget him, as shameful as it was to admit. The silence surrounding Zeke's name in Liberio was enigmatic, bordering on suspicious.

Eventually, the low hum of the airplane lulled Pieck to sleep, and she drifted off with vague memories of a mysterious former classmate in the back of her mind.

When Pieck disembarked, feeling significantly better rested, she was surprised to find her father waiting for her at the arrivals gate of Liberio International Airport. Unable to help herself, she ran like a child into his arms, her suitcase clattering about precariously.

"You didn't have to come, Dad! I could have caught the bus back home!" She chided unconvincingly; in truth, she was overjoyed to see him, even if she knew the trek to the airport might have exhausted him.

Ever since her mother had passed longer ago than she could remember, it had always been just Pieck and her father. The past few months without him had been difficult and alien, but she was pleased to see a little more weight on his frame and color in his cheeks. The medical care he received must have been helping.

On the drive home, Pieck talked her father's ear off about the first semester of her program, and he listened eagerly. She was especially excited to tell him about her new position with TITANLab. As Pieck explained more about the project to him, she noticed that she was avoiding naming Zeke, for some reason. Why does it feel strange to bring him up? She wondered, but not for long; soon enough, the conversation rotated to its next topic, and she and her father chatted about anything and everything they could think about. This was always how it was with them; Pieck had missed this dynamic sorely.

Soon, Pieck's father pulled into an unfamiliar driveway, and she recalled that he had moved to a new place. Rather than the rundown apartment she was used to, her father now lived in a small, comfortable bungalow. As she walked in (empty-handed, in spite of her efforts to wrest her suitcase from her father, who insisted on carrying it in for her), she noted resplendent, well-tended rosebushes that lined the entryway.

"Taken up gardening?" She asked with a soft smile.

Pieck's father chuckled.

"I have to pass the time somehow."

His response was tongue-in-cheek, but Pieck still couldn't help feeling guilty for leaving him alone. Her father must have sensed this, adding,

"It's nice to live somewhere with room for plants; I've always wanted them but never got the chance. I wouldn't have been able to come here without your help, Pieck. You understand that, don't you?"

Pieck just smiled back and went into the house, afraid her voice would shake if she responded. She knew it was true; she suspected that her stubborn sense of guilt was just a different manifestation of homesickness. Sooner or later, though, she knew she had to overcome these feelings, especially at her age.

After they both had settled in a bit more, and Pieck quickly got the lay of the new bungalow, Pieck's father put on a kettle of tea and poured out two mugs for them.

Pieck cooled the tea and raised it to her lips. The flavor that hit her tongue was gorgeous, a symphony of flowers and herbs. She had never tasted anything like it before.

"This is delicious! What is it?"

"Nothing special, just some mint, lemon balm, and rosehips," her father shrugged and responded.

"Nothing special?! Where did you get all of that? This must have cost a fortune..." Pieck murmured thoughtfully.

"I actually got it from right out there," he said, gesturing vaguely towards an array of pots in the small backyard. "I started growing plants to make tea blends. I share them with the neighbors now, and one of them said she'd stock them at her market stall, in fact. I'm just glad anybody likes them!"

Pieck fondly noted the pride in his voice. "That's amazing, Dad! How did you choose to make tea blends, of all things?"

"Well, I actually always dreamt of doing that kind of thing, but never got the chance til now. You probably don't remember, but your mother and I used to be great tea enthusiasts."

"I didn't know that about you," Pieck said softly.

"You never got a chance to, sweetheart. When did we ever have time for our hobbies before?"

It was true, and Pieck was happy to see her father rediscovering his old interests, but it was still bittersweet. It was becoming increasingly clear that, with the right resources, her father could thrive independently of her. She hoped that she could find her own path and do the same.

She thought again about Zeke, who felt like her polar opposite in this area. Where she was afraid to disappear from her life in Liberio, it seemed he had done just that. But why? Pieck resolved to find out more.

Taking a sip of tea and steadying her voice, Pieck spoke up.

"Hey, Dad? You know that research project I was telling you about?"

"Yes, with Titans Corp!"

"Right, TITANLab. I forgot to mention earlier, but one interesting thing is that it's actually run by someone from Liberio."

Pieck's father hummed thoughtfully. "That is interesting. Who is it? Maybe someone I was friends with? But I don't remember anyone I knew going off and becoming a professor in Trost..."

"Well, he's actually a bit younger, I guess, more like me." Why was her heart beating so quickly suddenly? "He actually went to school with me for a bit!" Pieck said, her voice going too high for her to maintain her false casualness. Why was asking perfectly normal questions getting her so flustered?! "Maybe you remember him? Zeke Jaeger?"

"Jaeger...oh." Pieck's father put his mug down. "Oh yes, I remember him now. Vaguely, I suppose. The name does sound familiar." He sounded suddenly serious, almost disapproving. But that wouldn't make much sense. She must have been overthinking his tone.

"Well, isn't that interesting? Nobody's talked about him in so long. It's almost like we all forgot about him, isn't it?" She persisted, trying in vain to sound lighthearted. Pieck knew she would not win any accolades with her acting skills.

"Yes, I suppose so." He said with a tone of finality. Pieck recognized that tone, and she knew he only used it when she kept asking questions about a topic that brokered no further discussion.

An unexpected dead end...she would just have to continue her fact-finding mission elsewhere. Luckily for her, she was planning to get drinks with some friends the next evening. Reiner and Porco were unabashed gossips, while Annie and Bertholt could usually serve as a reliable sounding board for when they exaggerated too many details. Marcel would luckily be there as well to moderate; Pieck knew that some of her friends could get quite heated in discussions for no good reason. Between the lot of them, Pieck was sure she could get at least some answers.

Later that evening, Pieck and her father got to work preparing a stew for dinner. As she chopped carrots, he spoke up.

"Piecky, I know you just started, but have you given any thought to what you want to do after you finish your program?"

Pieck nearly took her finger off at that (given her surname, the irony was not lost on her).

"Not really...why do you ask? I guess a few people continue the part-time Paradis Labs work full-time, or otherwise go full on into the whole academia gig. I was thinking of just coming back, though. I could probably get a job that pays well enough here at that point. Wouldn't that be best?" She asked, setting down the knife before she caused any accidental injury.

Pieck felt her father seize her shoulders and turn her to face him, his expression suddenly serious. She couldn't help but note that his treatments must have been working well if he had the strength to spin her around like that.

"Listen to me, sweetie. I know you've always thought of me and my needs first. As your father, it's difficult for me to see you taking care of me the way I should be taking care of you." Pieck opened her mouth to object to his unfair appraisal of himself, but he silenced her with a look. "But I'm so proud of the young woman you've grown up to be. It's time for you to put yourself first, now. Imagine I didn't need you anymore. What would you do then?"

If he hadn't brushed a thumb across her face right then, Pieck would not have noticed that her eyes had filled with tears. She didn't like when he talked like this — it usually meant he was asking her to plan her life after his.

"I— I don't know, dad. I...what if I still need you?" Her voice was steady, but the tears started streaming down her cheeks, catching on her lips and salting her tongue.

While it was true that Pieck made her father's health her priority, it had never felt like self-sacrifice to her. Regardless of his opinion on the matter, Pieck knew that he had raised her as carefully and attentively as he had his herb garden, and she was well aware of how challenging that had been for him to do on his own. To her, putting herself first did mean putting him first too, as she knew it did to him.

Pieck tried to stifle a sob by pressing her hand to her throat, but a strangled sound still escaped.

Her father hugged her tightly.

"I'll always be there for you, no matter where you are, no matter where I go. It's just that the last thing I want is for you to limit yourself."

Feeling her beginning to sob, he hushed her as he did when she was a baby, patting her back consolingly.

Once she calmed down, they both resumed the dinner preparation, and it was as though the discussion had never happened.

That night, however, Pieck lay awake in her old bed in the unfamiliar new bedroom. What was she even planning? She had gone to college on her father's recommendation, and she had applied for this program on Professor Magath's. She had accepted the offer for the money she could send home.

If she lived in a vacuum, what would she do?

People did not live in vacuums, however; it was an impossible scenario to imagine.

After Pieck's mother had died, her father had raised her largely singlehandedly. But hadn't the Galliards delivered meals from their family restaurant when Pieck's father was paralyzed by his grief? And hadn't Reiner's mother taken Pieck aside to help prepare her for her first period when she would not have a mother to turn to? And hadn't Annie's father picked her up from school on the days her father was bedridden?

This had always been the way of the Eldians in Liberio; they banded together, partly out of necessity, and partly out of loyalty to one another. Asking Pieck to be selfish was asking her to forsake a part of herself that all her forebears had taught her by example. An Eldian leaving Liberio for good was very rare.

But she did know one notable exception now.

What had made him leave the way he did?

As sleep finally claimed her, Pieck wondered if she would ever feel brave enough to ask.

[demonadelem]

Hey Lem, its @lmanburgmcytcare again-

Okay, so I have this sister, right? And she has a c!emduo pair that she got around the same time i got my Wilbur. She likes to visit me pretty often, and her emduo like to get out of the house so they tend to come over with her. Normally, thats not really a problem, cus wil gets along with my sisters phil and techno pretty well. But she came over kinda unexpectedly just yesterday, and uh.. it didn't go well.

I thought itd be fine since Wilbur got along well with both the c!emduo and my lmanberg group, so they wouldn’t fight with each other, but the moment that we looked away emduo went after the lmanbergians! Luckily we were able to break it up quickly, so none of them are injured, but my sister was very sad that she had to leave so soon, plus im worried about the effects this will have on all of them! I mean, Wilbur feels very betrayed by this, and im worried that this will make it harder for my lmanbergians to trust outsiders :(

I looked into it a bit, and i found that emduos dont get along with lmanberg groups like mine because when they group up like this, they like to form a social structure that emduos don't really agree with. Any tips to prevent this in the future, or should i just tell my sister that she cant bring her phil and techno over anymore? Also, any idea how to help my lmanbergians cope with the situation?

From what I remember, the L'manbergians (apart from your Wilbur) are already traumatized by whatever made them form the group, my sympathy towards you in their recovery knows no bounds.

In the wild when L'manbergians feel threatened they begin tunneling and building underground bunkers to feel more safe. So provide them places to hide together, hidden pathways that they only know about. A Wilbur's priority will always towards his found family, he knows they are stronger together. Which goes to my next suggestion.

Try introducing the Philza and the Techno seperately, Philza is the safest, he doesn't act on his hostility towards the group without his Techno, Technos however I'm not sure. Towards individuals he'll get along fine, a lone Wilbur or Tommy or even a Tubbo but as a group he feels outnumbered.

Good luck to you and you sister.

[pocketsonny]

For the character ask meme: 2, 8, 14, and 16 for Ryoken and 18, 24 for Jin! :D

Ryoken! <3

2) When I think I truly started to like them (or dislike them, if you've sent me a character I don't like)

It's so hard to pin-point THE moment...like, I always liked him but I think with his face reveal I started to really like him JKASKJD I'm weak for white haired pretty boys okay! xD

But back in S1, I would've said my fave was more Yusaku and Ai than Ryoken. As the series progressed tho, and I started to pick apart Ryoken's character more...as I wrote him...I just came to love him a lot!! And I kept going back to s1, and appreciating his S1 self more, analyzing his actions...now I can ramble for days about this guy. SO MANY LAYERS TO HIS GUILT!

8) Your favorite outfit of them

He wears the same blazer and ankles pants every day, what outfit KASKJD Okay listen this guy has 10 of the same outfit, he's stupidly practical, SOMEONE TAKE HIM OUT SHOPPING!!

I do really like his avatar looks tho, I'm a fan of 👽 S1 alien look, but his s2 avatar is very pretty as well (I'd say I like the color scheme of his outfit more in s2 more!).

I do think he'd looks sooo good in turtlenecks...

14) Best storyline they had

S1 storyline for Revolver/Ryoken is very solid, you can draw a lot about Ryoken's character and actions, his way of thinking at that time. I love to go back to it to pick his character apart. PLUS HE'S SO GOOFY BACK THEN, I love that (even though it gets sad when you think he got to have that much fun because he was gonna...sacrifice himself with the Tower and everyone else so like, he didn't care! fuck it! he can be terrible cause nothing will matter in the end! GAH o|-<)

THO I also love the storyline(? if it can be called that) he had with Soulburner/Their duels. I always wish we'd got more of them...like I know i'm biased cause I love the ship and them individually, but their final duel is SO GOOD!!

16) A childhood headcanon

HMM the one I'm thinking of right now is cute/sad: he learned a bunch of like, tricks? Or stuff that would impress potential friends he made, like yo-yo tricks or card tricks , small things that'd make him look cool LOL. but he never got to show anyone.... :''')

Also he read a lot about astronomy...he always liked stars.

Jin!! :D

18) How do you think they were as a kid? (Like, were they shy, noisy, wild, etc)

I think Jin was a bit of a shy kid, but cheerful back then. He was always going somewhere with Shoichi, holding onto the back of his shirt when he was scared...they played a lot together. Shoichi had other friends from his grade, but Jin struggled to meet other kids his own age, which made Shoichi spend so much time with him so he wouldn't be lonely :') Also partly what made him so protective from early on.

Jin also always liked reading a lot--he's very curious! Liked fantasy when he was younger, mystery novels...

24) What do you think is a secret they have that they never told anyone?

HMMM 🤔

I do have a HC to kinda work with canon's "all of jin's memories of the incident where deleted when lightning used that 1 LP". Because I think that's dumb BUT...what if what that made was just repress the memories.

Like. Jin is AWARE there's a gap in his memories. And he's aware Shoichi is hiding something from him--but he hasn't told him that. Because whatever it is, seems to make him brother terribly sad, even when he hides it.

Jin often has vivid nightmares that he doesn't know the source of, either. He hasn't told Shoichi--if some mornings he's particularly exhausted, it's because he stayed up reading again. Doing homework. Playing a game. He doesn't want to cause his brother any more worry, because while his memories are foggy, he does remember Shoichi caring for him for a long time, he remembers the care facility he stayed at, but he doesn't know WHY he was there. He's just pretending all is normal now.

It does frustrate him though that Shoichi won't talk about it, or tell him--he feels people around him know something he doesn't.

This something i want to write for Future Circuit but the biggest secret may be that when he heard about the L.I on TV, something tugged at him...and he may have started to investigate on his own about it, trying to piece things together. Part of him doesn't want to know what's behind those nightmares and visions--too afraid to really KNOW but he also hates how people seem to be keeping stuff from him.

THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT ABOUT AKJSKJDS he may have other. smaller, more chill secrets like. secretly uses his parents credit card for gacha games--JK JK (but what if lol )

[azzurra-astra]

Drawing Fake Peppino is hard, even though I like working on that kind of maddening shit… weird and creepy things have always been fav, but I’ll save it for tomorrow and answer a few questions received again over the past few days with warm up sketches. I don’t do these all the time, but there’s only three of them so it was simple to make the practice about responses. Again, I am extremely humbled (thank you), but glad people are amused enough to drive Palmira apeshit (and embarrass her, you know who you are) with nutty questions. I don’t answer them individually, it’s just easier to answer questions like this. Due to the insistent suggestion from a best friend, I’ll keep these in the main tag to ensure whoever asked sees the response. I need to post some actual fanart, not just OC stuff because that gets drab.

1

“What’s her apartment like? Like, her room really, can we see it? It usually has things about someone’s personality.”

“Mmm… I mean, sure.”

“It ain’t nothing fancy, just small and weird, really…”

Though depressed and torn between being lonely and relishing time to herself, she’s young at heart and dismisses the bitter folk who insist she “grow up”. Her walls are covered in posters of her favorite media, character masks, weapon replicas, fish and cat things. She’s mature, and fun.

2

“It’s like a broken record at this point but I really like this character, she’s actually really friggin’ cute adjshgkf… Do you have anything of her wearing different clothes or can you whip something up? Can I ask why she’s depressed too?”

“Hiya there, Sugarpeas!” (Associating with Branzino’s cat— more than the people —during a party he’s throwing, she and the rest of the staff were invited)

No, I didn’t have anything else with her wearing different stuff so here’s her in a lime green and cream dotty party dress, she’s not afraid to wear bold and cute patterns on somewhat loose or flowing clothes. Thank you for liking her, too. She’s obviously a bit of a thicc & big-hipped bean (artist is a chubster too), and she’s depressed because she bore the brunt of bad, demeaning neglect by jealous garbage parents for a lot of years.

3

“I’m gonna come clean! Super nervous about sending this but fuck it I kinda wanna see her being cute and vibing with Peppino because it’s a TEENY WEENY guilty pleasure ship of mine lately! ;_; Lemme explain!! I just think because the favorite pizza man is a nervous best boy and you said she’s supporting and likes hugs it’d be super cute because I see her trying to reassure him and help make pizza , I hope I didn’t make you mad, sorrrrryyyy!!!!!”

GASP

“FUCK ME RUNNIN’— BACKWARDS— Don’t insult the man!”

Nope! I’m not mad, after being shocked for 20 seconds, I nearly pissed myself laughing. Thank you so much for that though, needed it. I’m not mad but she certainly thinks you are for insinuating such a thing! Here, blursed with a neon pink face and overwhelming embarrassment, she would think anybody nutty enough to try flirting with her can definitely do better (she considers herself outta the ¢.50 tub) and she doesn’t even know him, it would take some persistence to convince her to give it a try. She’s also an amateur when it comes to making pizza, but a wiz with pasta, bread, and seafood. She can make pizza and does so on her own but the crust is hit-or-miss sometimes, though toppings and flavor are darn near on-spot. She experiments but can’t dedicate a lot of time because of work, so she’d be eager to learn.

These were a good warm up practice for some actual PT fanart, and not just OC scribbles. When I’m not braindead I’ll work on my piece with Fake Peppino tomorrow. Ciao!

[nebulablakemurphy]

All For You (Pt. 4)

Summary: Elliot’s finally out of the hospital, but possibly not ready to get clean. Companion series to Because Of You & Before You

Warning: this is a mature series that includes mentions of drug use/overdose, mental illness, explicit language and mentions of sex.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Elliot wasn’t trying to overdose, especially not for Rue and Y/N to find passed out in a pool of his own vomit. If he’s being honest, he was just bored, maybe a little lonely.

He still sells music stems online and some people are really into that. A single musician, living on his own, Elliot has no problem finding hookups. Bonus points if they resemble Jules, Y/N or Rue. He was always a gentleman, made sure they enjoyed it and they got off, sometimes more than once. But no matter how hot they were, they never got a call back.

That’s the thing about love. Elliot hates love, objectively speaking. Until one of them show up, saying they missed him, asking how he’s been. ‘I missed you too and I’m good,’ become automated responses.

Technically he did miss them, in the fleeting moments he had his feet on planet earth. Technically he was good, because they’re there and none of the bad shit mattered anymore.

But eventually they would leave, he always knew that. Jules back to Manhattan, Y/N and Rue back to the little apartment they’re ready to move out of. They could have a bigger place, if they live together. But Elliot knew that was silly to even suggest. He’s a guest in their lives…and nothing more.

When Elliot was in high school, he decided that Y/N was the type of girl he’d like to spend the rest of his life with. To laugh at stupid jokes with and keep full of his babies. If it weren’t for Rue…

Who he’s had a crush on since he met her, on New Year’s Eve, snorting off a broken whirlpool washer. He’s worried about her just as long. Even though she’s clean and he isn’t.

Jules was always kinda unattainable. She didn’t do it to be mean. She’s just the type of person born to fly from place to place, Jules couldn’t be held down.

So it all got twisted into a loop, that repeats and repeats, with no chance of undoing itself; because no one is willing to change. Not even Elliot.

“Where do you want us to set up shop?” Rue asks.

Elliot’s still in the clothes they brought to the hospital, so he wouldn’t have to leave in a fucking gown with his ass out. “I already told you, I don’t need babysitters. I’m not suicidal.”

“Did anyone say you were?” Jules turns to him.

“It’s being heavily implied.” Elliot moves her suitcase to the corner of his living room.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jules tells him.

“Like you were so fucking worried when I texted you two weeks ago?”

Jules curls in on herself. “I had a huge project and I told you that.”

“You think I never have anything going on, Jules?” Elliot scoffs at her.

“Did we miss something?” Y/N whispers to Rue.

“I never fucking said that.” Jules throws her hands up in defeat.

“Yeah, we missed something.” Rue moves closer to her girlfriend.

“Listen, I’m trying to be nice.” Elliot puts a hand to his head. “But I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you crawling up my ass. If I want to stop using, I’ll stop on my terms. Not on your terms, because the reality is, you’re not here. None of you are ever fucking here.”

“Do you want us to be here?” Rue asks. “Last we checked, you wanted the space clear for pussypaloza.”

Elliot chuckles, “that’s an issue now?”

“It’s not an issue, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Elliot snaps. “I am calm. You just don’t like what I’ve got to say.”

“I think you’re hangry.” Y/N pulls out her phone. “Let’s order some food, talk about this.”

“I had to o.d. for you to wanna talk about this?” He truly can’t believe his ears.

“We’re not talkers, k?” Rue takes one for the team. “You’re in hot pursuit of a crier, a liar and an emotionally constipated individual.”

“Hey!” Jules and Y/N protest, almost in unison. They know exactly which title is theirs.

“Sorry,” Rue holds up her hands, “but you get the point. We’ve been like this the whole time.”

“Fine.” Elliot nods, “I knew you were fucked up.”

———————————————————————

Something Rue and Elliot didn’t know about getting clean; something they’d never fucking admit to anyone…is that they never forgot the way drugs made them feel.

Elliot feels it with Jules. The high, the tension of holding your breath, right on the precipice, then finally soaring over the edge. He feels it when he kisses, especially when he cums.

Rue’s different, her gratification isn’t sexual. Not most times anyway. Just Y/N, anything with her. A never ending fountain of love and devotion. Rue knew that no matter what she did, Y/N was hers. And in that acceptance, Rue found stability. A safe place to land.

Allowing Elliot and Jules a permanent space in their lives was like putting together an ill fitting puzzle. Jiggling pieces together, wearing at the edges, until they sat flush. When they were ‘finished’ things were perfect.

So perfect, they decided they could do this together. Which turned out to be a terrible fucking idea. The puzzle wasn’t properly held together and somebody shook the table. Now everyone is all over the place.

Sawyer and Cameron are getting ready for school when Rue checks in via video call. They seem happy.

“Hi, Mama. We miss you.”

Sawyer let Elliot do her hair, she is very particular about hair. Cameron is more laid back, he likes to observe and strategize before he acts.

Y/N is glowing, despite the fact that she just got done puking when Rue called. Elliot misses Jules and Rue, he claims, but he’s kinda glowing too.

“You look happy, Rue.” Y/N tells her.

“Do I?” Rue let’s out a surprised laugh.

“Yeah.”

They’ve been together long enough that Rue doesn’t question if it’s true.

“I’m proud of you for doing this.”

“Stop,” Rue smiles, looking away.

“Seriously.” Y/N draws her attention back to the screen. “Everything you’ve done…you’re a huge inspiration to me, and so many people. I wish I could be there.”

So does Rue, she couldn’t have done half of this shit, or even wanted to, without Y/N.

“But Jules is gonna record it for me.”

“Jules is not recording this.”

“No, I am.” Jules pops her head out of the bathroom, to argue. “I already promised.”

“You guys are in cahoots now?” Rue shares her scowl between them.

“They’re always in cahoots, Rue.” Elliot moves across the frame, dashing toward half packed lunch boxes.

“Not against me,” Rue points out.

“Welcome to the club.” He replies, without much sympathy.

Y/N’s eyes flicker up to the clock at the corner of her phone. “Alright, we’ve gotta run. Kids dishes in the sink, say bye to Mama.”

“Bye, Mama.” Sawyer waves.

“Bye, Mama.” Cameron blows her a kiss.

“Bye, babies.” Rue misses them more than anything.

“Bye, Rue.” Elliot joins in.

“Goodbye, Elliot.” Rue salutes him.

“Bye, Elly.” Jules’ voice carries out from the ensuite.

“Text me!”

“I will! Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jules.” Y/N calls back.

“I love you, bye.” Rue says to her wife, in parting.

“Bye, Rue. I love you so much.”

“Hang up!”

Rue finally does, bringing the phone up to her chest, close to her heart.

“Hey, what are you wearing?”

“I don’t know, Jules.” Rue blinks, rapidly. “Shirt, pants, sneakers?”

“I’m over dressed.”

Jules is always kinda over dressed. Not that she looks ridiculous or anything. More that no one could hold a candle to her.

Rue closes the space between them, pushing a bit of hair behind her ear. “You look amazing.” She kisses her forehead, “don’t change.”

Jules pulls back to look at Rue. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“No, I really don’t.” Rue smiles.

———————————————————————

Y/N can feel Elliot staring a hole in the side of her head, as they pull away from the kid’s school. “What?”

“Can I ask you something?” Elliot drawls, tapping a finger against his coffee cup.

“Yeah.” Y/N flips on her turn signal.

“Are you doing this out of obligation?”

“What?”

“Do you think you owe me and Jules a baby?” He asks.

“Did you give us Sawyer and Cam out of obligation?” Y/N feels sick, like enough to throw up.

“No.” Out of love and ass backwards ideas maybe; but not obligation. “I shouldn’t have asked you that, I’m just trying to understand where you’re at right now.”

“Have you ever been responsible for someone’s happiness?”

“To some degree.”

“But like…” Y/N breaks off, “have you ever held an entire life in your hands? Knowing you could make someone’s dream come true or crush it, while you have little to no control over the outcome?”

“No.”

“Then you can’t really understand where I’m at right now.”

“Is that what this feels like?” Elliot whispers. If this is the issue, the actual issue, he doesn’t want to startle her away from it.

“If anything happens to your baby-”

“Do you think, for one second, that me or Jules would blame you for that?” Elliot rests a hand on her leg. I’m right here.

“No.” That’s why she doesn’t want to talk about it. Because it is stupid and in her head she knows that.

“But you would blame yourself.”

She nods.

“Fuck, baby.” He runs his free hand over his face.

“I feel bad about it.” Y/N’s voice breaks. “Don’t you think I feel bad?”

“There’s nothing to feel bad about. It’s not your fault, Y/N.” Elliot sighs. “Everything can not be your fault. The odds are astronomical. Think about the logistics, if nothing else. You love logistics.” Rationalizing gets her off.

“I do.”

“If a construction company removes a load bearing wall from a house and it collapses, do they blame the house?” The analogy could be better, but it will work.

“No.”

“Do they blame one person?”

“The project manager.” Y/N steals a glance at Elliot, from the corner of her eye.

Now he’s got her. “Did anyone appoint you project manager of this relationship?”

“No.” She huffs, in response.

“Then you just fucking work here like the rest of us, and we are all equally responsible.”

He isn’t wrong.

“Let’s fix the house together,” Elliot suggest. “Instead of building separate rooms and trying to force them together after.”

“But I feel like that’s our thing.” The corners of Y/N’s mouth twitch upward.

“Maybe we should find a better thing.”

Part 5

[shallowseeker]

The familial murder of the mother, the blaming of absent father, and the symbolic death of a child in 14x18 Absence

On Cas-- genuinely trying to understand Dean's headspace. Castiel: Are you mad I didn't tell you-- or that I'm telling you at all? Dean: Both! An irrational position, but he's angry. Cas feels it.

14x18 Absence

(Dean is angry as a spouse is angry, because Cas is his emotional rock, the partner that soothes and stands strong and above all else, who makes pain go away. It's a confusing, instinctual emotionality that many spouses fall prey too in times of trouble. Sharing burdens gets all messed up because the burden is too heavy, and above all else, unfixable.)

///

It's so good! I’ve heard this kinda thing play out in so many agonizing situations, especially in the hospital setting and amidst a backdrop of unexpected death— it's brutal. This whole thing is dreadful— it's leading up to the realization of inter-familial murder and the symbolic loss of a child (followed by the actual loss of that child).

It's so awful!

In this episode, Absence is a three-part play on words:

it's about Mary's absence (death)

it's about Jack's absence of good (soul) and symbolic "death"

and it's about Cas's absence from the family at a critical time (paralleled by the overworking father not being there in 14x05 Nightmare Logic btw)

///

As Anael pointed out, Cas went lone wolf and tried to solve the problem alone, out of fear of facing the truth of the situation, leaving his human fam with a loose nuke--a loose nuke that Cas is, like it or not, physically the best equipped to handle (i.e. his superior strength; and his ability to "see" souls, however diminished that ability may be from his early days).

///

So, Dean is irrational.

The bit about Dean being angry on all fronts is good because it showcases Cas's astute recognition of Dean's current fight-or-flight irrationality. It also shows that Dean might've shrugged off the snake situation, even if Cas had told him about it.

Dean's in denial. He's been in denial about Jack, and neither of them has had time to process the awful truth, much less deal with it. (Not to mention, it's triggering awful memories of soulless!Sam leaving Dean to die via vampire, and of another time Cas went AWOL and left him in the dark through omission.)

At a high-pressure time like this, emotions are gonna take over. This kinda grief is irrational. Dean can feel that he's on the precipice of grieving loss of mother and of child. It's being angry with the "shell" of the child, it's blaming the absent father.

“When a child dies in a family, the members feel as if they have been ripped apart, unwound, which creates tension and conflict. Crisis begets crisis and the greatest stress is put on the marital dyad.

Many times each individual falsely expects their spouse to make the pain go away and when they cannot, they begin to feel resentment, anger, hurt, abandonment, etc., toward their spouse.”

Yes. Cas is that for Dean.

///

Dean wants to be Cas's partner:

For a long while, especially in the late seasons, Cas has been the faith and hope that Dean believes in. This is heavily implied in 13x04 The Big Empty, when Dean says at the end of the episode that he, "doesn't believe in a damn thing." That gets juxtaposed with Cas reawakening, and ofc Dean does a total 180 upon Cas's return.

Cas is Dean's faith, his hope for future.

Cas is also unofficial family protector, even though Dean has some discomfort with Cas having that role. This is showcased very well in 12x19 The Future, with Dean feeling bitter about being viewed as "someone to be babysat." -> "You're not our babysitter, Cass, okay? That is not your job. And when in our whole lives have we ever been safe?" (As always, Dean wants to be someone Cas relies on, too--his equal partner.)

///

As for Dean, Cas, and Faith...

What does it mean to have faith in someone like this? Here, it's not just getting down on your knees and professing love to a set of religious doctrines or dogma.

Here, Cas is Dean's confidence in the meaning of life. Dean's faith in Cas is love and loyalty. It's that belief in the truth, value, and trustworthiness of a person.

Regardless what you believe about the nature of their relationship, Cas is the support that lessens the pain; he is the balm that brings Dean joy and peace. He represents Dean's hope in the future, because Cas is a vital part OF his future.

But here in Absence, Dean is spinning out, because no matter what Cas says, in the face of THIS, the pain is too enormous. It's unfixable.

And as his family disintegrates via the death of Mary and the symbolic death of Jack, so disappears Dean's faith. His faith in the future is gone, and his faith in a happy future with Cas is gone. The future is "dead" to him.

///

The irrationality of grief and the horror of choosing "the wrong man"

Cas recognized Dean's emotional state. He understands. It doesn't make it easier, but Cas still knows.

Irrational behavior is a triggered fight-or-flight, and often it becomes anger because of a perceived unmet need. The unmet need in this case?

Dean needs his loved ones to be safe and he wants Cas specifically to make him FEEL safe.

He wants Cas to take away that fear and pain, but he doesn't exactly know why or how he wants that to happen. He instinctually wants Cas to protect them, but he wants Cas to be safe and open while doing it, so that Dean feels like an equal partner.

"Don't do anything stupid."

It's a strange dualism. He doesn't want Cas to name the problem (Jack's lack of soul) AND he wants Cas to solve the problem (make everything okay again). It's contradictory and confusing.

///

Dean does not fight with Sam in 14x18 and 14x19, because he's not expecting a certain kind of support from his brother, other than to be in his corner and fight the good fight as usual, maybe even to help Dean commit murder-suicide via Equalizer.

That is, he's NOT expecting Sam to take the pain away.

Despite the marital "schism," Cas is still around and working with Winchesters (and Dean) in fellow soldier dynamic. It's...tense. It's limbo. But it's not completely sundered, because Cas attends the burning of Mary, and his instinct is to hold Dean during it. (I still sometimes wonder if Sam made the wrong move stopping that from happening? Even if Dean reacted badly, it might have brought the tension to a head sooner.)

///

And angels...

Cas and Dean have been fighting this human/angel schism since season 6. "I'm not human," Cas says over and over, in a variety of ways. (In Dean's view, angels have pretty literally ruined his life, so it's easy to slide down the road of bitterness and hurt concerning angels.)

And after all this time, in Dean's mind, Cas still won't meet Dean halfway when it comes to protecting the family as a unit.

Yet, Dean wants him. He wanted Cas to stay in the family; he tried to keep Cas for so, so long. He force-fit Cas into the shape of human spouse, even when Cas pulled away or left. Dean wanted Cas as his partner, "even when all his instincts told him otherwise."

So, what if Cas is "the wrong man?"

Now, this means Dean potentially chose wrongly. Dean put Mary and Sam in danger with chosen spouse and chosen child. Dean chose Unwisely. Dean's instincts were constantly screaming, "Angel, angel, angel!"

He didn't listen.

///

Lizard brain

What is “irrational,” and why does that word spring to Cas's mind? The OverwhelmedBrain's definition works well: An overreaction.

It goes on further:

"When you are overreacting, that means you are making up stories about the situation you are in. You are fabricating your own meaning of something that is likely not at all what you think it is. Overreacting usually stems from letting emotion cloud your logic. It’s okay to be emotional about something, but when it actually clouds your logic, and you respond solely from a place of emotion, you are closing off rational thought."

Our lizard brain is the lowest level of behavior or the closest we get to responding to life’s events like an animal. Very survival driven. An overreaction can be seen as an attempt to survive.

Here, it becomes Jack-Cas hurt me. Jack-Cas are threats. Angels are dangerous.

But-- Can't do it without Cas, it's too hard.

And-- The real Jack is dead. That's not Jack. We need to solve the problem.

So-- Cas should be my fellow soldier, then, not my spouse. (Stupid, stupid Dean for thinking otherwise.)

And nihilism-- There is no future, only mission. If Jack's symbolically dead because of Dean, then Dean will kill the shell of him (and himself, too). It'll be the murder he doesn't survive.

"Get onboard with our new cause or walk away. ...Cas!"

Then, even as fellow soldier, Cas walks away.

///

When they are being irrational, then basically anything they do or say is not personal. In fact, what’s coming out are usually repressed emotions of some sort.

But, even if what they say hurts you, this is the worst time to respond to what they are saying. I realize it’s a challenge not to get triggered because the person could be saying some very mean things.

Only mission. Nothing matters.

Dean is powerless to change what he is.

Later, the situation further devolves. They are all co-weapons in a meaningless fight designed by Chuck. It gets so much worse after Chuck's true nature is revealed, because if Chuck is a writer, then Cas is a narrative trap. He's the catalyst for all of Dean's deepest emotions and pains. Dean is a fool for putting blind faith in the wrong man.

Cas is the son of Chuck. And Dean is a fool.

(The light was just a lie.)

Now, Cas recognized this emotional breakdown for what it was, right from the get-go, but it still hurt. It was an "existential wound."

So, rightfully, he walked away, got some air, and reconsidered the situation. He tried to get clarity on the core of the situation instead of responding to Dean's irrational grief.

///

And at the core, Cas's own father egged on the inter-familial murder of his son for entertainment, perhaps even killed him in the first place via Sergei's cure to "restore the harmonics of the universe?"

All Cas can see for sure is that he was deeply in need of support, but when he called his father, that father ignored him, purposely letting it get worse before he stepped it. Then he did some brutal shit-stirring, tasking the on vulnerable, grief-stricken family with murder. Gleefully, sadistically tried to hurt them all, to kill Jack and bend them to his iron will.

Then, Chuck tortured the rest of Cas's human family, as a cat plays with its food. Cas recognizes this, because Heaven did that to him. That's why Cas is oddly quiet, even calm at times during season 15. Watching. Assessing.

In season 15, Cas is certainly disillusioned by Chuck but he's not affected to intense degree that Sam or Dean is, because Cas has already been disillusioned by serving a corrupt Heaven for billions of years. Cas has had, at minimum, three existential crises just during the course of the last decade (and Naomi implied more than that).

He's already dealt with the concept of "his life as hoax."

And Cas’s heart is strong, steely. Even when the djinn stabs him, he stands tall.

Cas comes to the conclusion that, unlike in season 7 where he despaired at the breadth of the universe and its cruel rules; here, getting out of Chuck's game would not change the game. So, Cas's resilience wins out.

Chuck's not getting the rest of his human family without a fuckin' fight.

ANYWAY, it's a mess. But it's not SIMPLE by any means. Cas gets a lot more of WHAT is happening thanks to both his emotional intuition and his assessment of Chuck. Cas's been there when it comes to loss of hope / Heavenly existential crisis. (It’s why he’s forgiving. He’s been there, over and over; he’s even being tasked with child-murder of first-borns and Nephilim children.)

He's even sundered his own critical relationships when he was going through shit, when he felt they didn't support him in the way he wanted and deserved (Balthazar, hello).

In season 15, Castiel-angel-of-the-Lord-serving-a-corrupt-machine meets Dean-my-life's-work-is-a-hoax-Winchester. And he stands strong for both of them in the end.

[cinnamonest]

Albedo idol girl darling thoughts M A N I F E S T E D

----------

Well, to be entirely honest, he thinks the whole idol thing is a little dumb.

For someone like him, at least. He's a PhD student in his final semester, lots of work to be done and all that. So, you know, he's a responsible, accomplished adult. Not the kind of person who gets into "that stuff," as he calls it in his head.

Nor does he even know how he encountered it... He just takes the occasional break from work to mindlessly open whatever app first pops into his vision and scroll through the feed. He's never watched anything like it in his life, so he's not exactly sure why he gets recommended some idol girl thing, and even less sure why he taps it without really thinking. Probably one of those videos that gets recommended to everyone. Well, can't be that, it doesn't have that many views... Probably loosely connected to some video game he's searched before or something. He's familiar with idols and what they are, and the subculture surrounding them, but he's never really cared about it.

Honestly, it's kinda pathetic that a bunch of grown adult men get so obsessed over these girls, he thinks as he watches. He's seen the type. Lonely, asocial dudes, most definitely virgins whose only female attention in their entire life is their mother, well into adulthood with no real social group to speak of.

...Not that he's much better off, but he hasn't quite sunk down to their level. The only reason he doesn't talk to people much is because they're busy, and he's even busier. He managed to make a few friends in undergrad years. Well, study partners who mooched off his notes since he was one of the top students, but same idea. They were people he spoke to more than once, which is what constitutes a friend, right? And for the record, one time in high school a girl in his class said she liked his hair. He hasn't changed the way he wears it since. Whenever he's sad, he thinks about that compliment from 10+ years ago, and it makes him feel a little better. But now, he's constantly slammed with work and research.

And his acquaintances are also all busy. He sees notifications every now and then from social media he never checks. Everyone is getting married at this stage in life, both friends and even other PhD students in his department. Not that he's ever been invited to a wedding, he just overhears a lot of conversations, sees notifications of posts. And he will too, eventually. He just has to finish up his degree, and then... Meet a girl. Well, that's actually the second step, step one would be finding out how to go about meeting a girl. He's... Never done it before. Probably does not happen sitting in the research lab at 11:30 pm on YouTube. He's talked to one of the other PhD students who's a girl before. And only stutters sometimes. He was even able to look her in the face while he talked to her once. That's a good start.

Ok, so maybe he is a little bit pathetic, but not as bad as... These guys. Reading the comments of the video actually make him feel a little better about himself, because frankly, they're kinda wild. The worship and fawning over girls is one thing, but they even have timestamps referring to various members like "she's super cute here!" Or "you can kinda see her thigh at 3:12!" Etc etc. Yeesh, creepy. And they get into comment fights over who is the best member, as if it even matters. It's fascinating in a human-social-experiment sort of way, the manifestation of a subculture and how humans interact with each other. On and on it goes, hundreds of commenters. He pays more attention to the comments than the actual video, but the song is kinda catchy in that annoying sort of way, and the girls are cute, just kinda... The typical thing he'd expect from idol groups. But the building will close soon, so he taps back to home screen and swipes the app closed.

Unfortunately, the algorithm remembers.

And he's not certain why he clicks the next one either, the following day. The lunch breaks he takes are usually pretty rushed. Not that he has specific class times at his level of academia, but he likes to get his work done. He intentionally eats either a bit later or earlier than the lunch crowd to avoid crowds and interactions. Finds a nice secluded little table tucked away. So when he opens it back up, what do you know, several more videos get recommended. It's absent minded when he taps on one, the kind of numb-brained entertainment every modern person indulges in, videos you wouldn't really be interested in but just watch because they're there.

Ok, this is really creepy. These dudes have made compilation videos of close ups of each specific girl. It's the same group as the video he saw before, same little lewd costumes. Admittedly the girls are kinda cute. He can kinda understand the appeal. But he's not like those guys, he would never become like, obsessed with them.

The song is actually really catchy. The kind of mindlessly addictive, repetitive pop music that's the same four chords over and over, each song is so similar you can't really tell them apart, but it gets stuck in your head anyway. This group has... nine members. Who needs that many singers in one group? It's not like a band or anything, they all just sing and do their little choreography. Guess that's a form of talent, even though he doesn't really get it.

Some of the groups he sees in recommended videos are cute and wholesome, and while this group is cute too, there's a very... Blatantly intentional lewdness to their poses and costumes. A hypersexualized sort of cuteness. Clearly marketed at lonely losers who have nothing better to do with their time than obsess over a girl who will never even know they exist.

He taps another video.

So many compilations, yikes. He has to give the guys credit, they're insanely loyal to the individual member that they decide to fixate on. Oh, and they even make official figurines and posters for these girls, that's... Something.

And a few days later he can kinda recognize the girls. They have color themes, you know, identical costumes except each girl's is a different color. This lead one is red, this main backup is blue, etc etc. Lots of bright colors. Kinda hurts his eyes to be honest.

And he's seen compilations of every girl except... The pink one. The pink one is always kinda off to the side. Well, these groups do have their favoritism, there's apparently one or two lead singers in all of the major idol groups, and the rest are basically backups and dancers. Still, a lot of dudes get super devoted to the non-main girls. So yeah, he's never seen a compilation for the pink one... He can't always exactly remember which one is which but now he's seen enough to know the other girls' names. He's not sure what hers is though. So he googles it and gets the name.

Wonder why she doesn't have as many videos...? Oh, it's because she's the newest member. Only been around a few months. There's... A whole board dedicated to the group, which he's getting this information from. Wow, pathetic. What kind of person spends their free time browsing a forum for an idol group? Well, he's just doing it to find information, not for fun or anything. He was just curious. Now he knows and he can forget about it and never look at anything related to them again... after he types her name and group name into the YouTube search bar and checks the results out, that is.

Oh, so they do have some compilations for her, just not many. "(Name) thigh compilation." Fuck, these people have no limits to how creepy and pathetic they can get, he thinks... as he watches the video. Ok, admittedly there are some good thigh shots there. There's a comment. "At 4:26 you can see her panties." Pathetic. They're not wrong though. Just to be sure, you see, he tapped the timestamp, and you can, in fact, see them. Stripes. Cute.

But he still has to do his work. Can't get too invested in watching mindless videos all day. He's got a thesis to work on.

That makes him curious, though, he thinks as he goes about his research. Do these girls go to school? Do they like, skip college, or do they join some kind of performing arts school or...? So he googles it. He can remember the pink one's name now, so he just finds her Wikipedia page. Oh, so she joined right out of high school and has been in various groups ever since.

Wait, various groups? So she has more groups she's been in? What are those? Before he typed her name into the search along with the group name, but if he just searches her name he gets... A lot more content from earlier years. Huh. Didn't know some of them did group-hopping like that.

Still, no education. Must be all smiles and body and no brains. Guess that's all you really need. Yeah, looking at that whole act they do... All giggly and childish and lewd... She's probably not too bright. At least she's pretty and sings nice. And the thighs are rather good. Smooth looking. They have a sort of jiggle when she jumps up and down on stage. The thigh highs they make those girls wear have that nice little dip where the skin is compressed by the fabric. Like... right there at that closeup. He takes a screenshot.

It's readily available, he's already seen the video and knows the best parts, whereas searching for porn would take time. The sooner he can get the daily stress relief out of the way the sooner he can work on his thesis. So this way is faster. That's why he's jerking off to the thigh video and not taking the time to look for porn. Plus, it makes him cum faster. Which it probably shouldn't since it's just thighs, but... Probably has something to do with the tease of it all maybe. That makes sense.

Or maybe it's that cute little giggle he can hear at some parts. She smiles and jumps and spins and laughs.

...It makes him wonder what she'd look like crying. Scared. Whimpering. Covered in bruises and bite marks. The contrast between that state and the one on the screen. The process and the things he could do to get her from one to the other. Yeah, he realizes, it's that thought, rather than the happy giggling on video or tease aspect, that makes him cum.

He's aware that his... tastes... are a little on the fucked up side, but hey, there's plenty of bastards out there far worse than him.

One day he discovers she has social media platforms. He... Doesn't really have any. He doesn't have Twitter or Instagram or any of that but... He downloads the app and makes an account for each. Just to follow her. Ooh, they even have the option to get a notification every time she posts... That's good. Otherwise he might check too frequently. He sets a special sound effect for notifications for her socials. The first few times, you see, he would get super excited when his phone went off, only to be disappointed when it was just a work email. Thus, he made the separate sounds.

He wouldn't say he has a favorite, that sounds really cringey you know? He just... Likes her more than the others. ...Dammit, that's what a favorite is. Ok, maybe he has a favorite, that's not that bad. He's not obsessed. He hasn't bought any merchandise at all or anything, especially not member-specific merchandise. Which they do have, because he visited the store page for a while and spent all his willpower physically restraining himself from buying something. It's not that he's biased, he just thinks she's objectively better than the rest of the group. Which can be backed up with evidence, anyone with eyes could tell by watching the performances.

As to what specifically draws him to her... he's not certain, to be honest. Maybe it's because she's the least appreciated out of the group, new and all. The less popular one. Or maybe her personality... She seems so sweet, even though he knows it's probably just an act for the fans. Or maybe just those thighs. That's also a valid possibility.

He cracks and buys some of the merchandise. Only about $300 worth. But honestly, he gets more invested into just printing out pictures of you. Pasting them onto the wall above his desktop. It keeps him going when the nights are hard.

But he refrains from ever commenting on anything. Some of these losers are just... so embarrassing, he can't stomach the thought of being associated, even if it's just an anonymous comment online. It's still pretty... Distasteful. He still browses the boards every day. You're his lock screen now. And home screen. And also your solo is his ringtone. He only sets his phone on sound when he's alone at home, though, when he's at work he puts it on vibrate. He... doesn't want anyone hearing that. No offense. He has some appropriate amount of shame, unlike the other bastards.

And the girls probably know that most of their fans are these kind of loser men, right? She'd probably be surprised someone nearly graduating with a chemistry doctorate is sitting around watching these dumb videos. Is that more or less pathetic? He thinks less, hopefully.

In fact, the other fans kind of irritate him. They're really cringy and annoying and it gives him secondhand embarrassment. And something... Deeper. Something about seeing the comments upsets him on a visceral level. It's gross. Sure, he's grateful for the dudes who sit around and make a list of timestamps for upskirt shots and the like, but... It kinda bothers him, feeling like there's some other dude out there sitting around, watching these long videos with his gross eyes and recording the times of shots that get him off. It feels gross. But more like... A violation against you. Sure, your group is very blatantly sexualized and intentionally risque in clothing but... Still, it feels wrong for someone to go through and get to see all of that.

Well, someone else. It's ok for him, since he's not a gross degenerate like the rest of them. He does genuinely see himself as... Above them. You know how like, back in the day, how the nobles used to sit around and watch plays from the far back while the peasants gathered around the stage? It's like that. He's not a gross loser or a NEET or anything like that. He's got a life. Well... Not a social life, but he's doing better than them, at least he has a degree, and soon a higher degree, and a job. He has a lot of things they don't. Basic hygiene. Student loan debt. And uh... Well, he's probably more pleasant to interact with, at least he's not gonna be frothing at the mouth like an animal if he saw you in real life. He would certainly freeze up, but that's preferable, isn't it?

And one day there's a video circulating in the idol community - not that he's a part of it or anything, he just keeps getting the dumb videos and watching them for mindless entertainment - where some girl group had an attempted kidnapping. Not her group, but some other group. The video has gone viral. Some dude tried to rush the stage and pull one of the girls away. Apparently the cops found he had an obsession with her.

What an idiot. If you're gonna kidnap someone, put some effort in, jeez. It's not hard to figure out how to do it right.

If that were him, he wouldn't be that stupid, he'd just look for an interval where she's alone. They have those solo or breakout group songs where some of the girls are backstage, just get her then. Memorize the concert schedule, wear something over your face, chloroform her, and stuff her into something and walk right out. Easy.

....

He catches himself in the thought and realizes that might have been a bit creepy, but he was just thinking in terms of hypotheticals. If he was the kind of crazy to do that, that's what he'd do, that's all.

He's always enjoyed entertaining strategic thoughts, really. He's had a couple fantasies about how he would commit murders of this or that person before, and he's never murdered anyone, so thoughts don't lead to actions. He just... Really doesn't like those people, and the fantasies help him... Deal with it. He just likes to strategize about methods, and how he'd get away with it... Stuff like that. Actually, he's convinced it's a very normal thing, but no one wants to admit it. Everyone has detailed murder fantasies every now and then.

Which is why this is no different. He's just strategizing because it's fun. He has no intentions of doing anything for real. He just plans out the details like a game. And tells himself to just never think about it again.

Until one specific night that he's staring down at his screen. Lying in bed. He should be asleep, he needs to be up early tomorrow but... He's just checking to be sure he's reading this correctly. You're coming to his town? He wouldn't think so, since it's not too big, just your average college town. But still, you'll be right here, right in his general vicinity, not far away at all.

Not that he'd ever actually go to such an event. No way. He hates crowds with a passion. He hates loud environments even more. A concert is like his worst nightmare. Besides, knowing the general audience of your group, it'll be a bunch of sweaty NEET dudes who haven't showered in a month and haven't crawled out of their house in even longer. No thank you.

But.

That's when the thought pops back up. It's been a few months since that night he had that strategizing fantasy, and, well, he tried to forget it but... It kinda lingered in the back of his mind. And now it's back in full force.

He shrugs the idea off. It's crazy. He'd never actually do something like that. It was just a fantasy.

...But he could get away with it if he wanted to.

He's not scared or anything, no, he's confident in his strategizing. He knows he could. Totally. It's foolproof. There's no need to carry it out to know that, besides, what would he even do with you?

Well, he's pretty certain he does know what he would do with you. He's watched that thigh video maybe a hundred times now. And even if he won't admit it, he's jerked off to the exact same fantasy for like, several months.

He doesn't really... Think about it. Just kind of slips into subconscious actions. Autopilot. One click and well, there goes $400 on an amp case. His eyes gaze over the dimensions... And then there's your height on the Wikipedia page... Yeah... That should work. He gets it sent to the address a few doors down just in case, and snatches it from in front of their door, but he finds himself backpedaling. What the hell is he doing? He would never actually go through with this, what a waste of money... But he still opens it. Sets it beside his front door. Tests the wheels to make sure they work.

He knows how to make chloroform. He doesn't need YouTube tutorials (unlike a certain someone else), he knows exactly how to do it, even alternate methods besides the usual acetone and bleach combination - so long as you end up with the same chemical makeup, it's all the same. He just goes with the traditional way though... Doesn't really know why he does it. Just mutters as he stares down at the concoction wondering why he wasted his time... But he pauses before pouring it down the sink, and instead puts it in a container and keeps it on the counter. Your weight is on Wikipedia too. Taking into account your height and weight you would need about... Yeah, a very specific amount to knock you out for about three hours.

The concert day draws closer and closer and he can't sleep very well. His mind keeps running what-ifs. Just, hypothetically, what if he did go through with it? What then? What would he do long term? How would that all work out?

Well, you'd probably hate him for a while, right? But that changes. Stockholm syndrome sets in. He would know, he had to take Psych 101 back in undergrad, and the professor talked about it for a full 10 minutes, so he's basically an expert. It's been like, 7 years since then, but he still kinda remembers it. He remembers that it's supposed to set in at about 2 weeks, and solidify with time. If the captor is nice, that is, which he totally would be. ...Maybe not in bed, but most of the time. He would be nice to you, and you would start to like him. Besides, they said Stockholm syndrome set in faster if the abductor has good qualities, so, he could also reason with you, remind you that you're lucky you got abducted by someone with money - or, well, he will have money once he graduates! - and isn't some ugly gross slob. He's clean and neat. Sorta... He'll clean up all those dishes that have been sitting there a few days now, pick up all those clothes off the floor... Ok, now he's clean and neat. And, uh, what else would girls care about... He's smart. He's pretty sure he can say that with confidence, if nothing else.

Ok, so, it would work. He could... Keep you kinda... Tied up here... If you started complying within that two week period, he could get you up and walking before atrophy set in. You'd probably have to get used to the lifestyle... Right now he's kinda on a budget, but, he can get you things to keep you occupied... And so, yeah, it could work. It's simple, just keep you with him and isolated for a few weeks and uh, you'll transform into some kind of hypersexual obedient cumslut and never want to leave. That's... How Stockholm syndrome works right? Maybe he should have paid more attention in that class... Oh well. He never liked psychology.

So the day draws nearer and nearer and he starts really getting into the right... Headspace. It's a sort of manic state that he's in. Operating without really thinking, all inhibitions removed by simply refusing to think about it. He lets the subconscious take over and do all these little things to prepare, until finally that day is tomorrow. And then he kinda snaps back to full awareness and questions, again, what the hell is he doing? He can't just... Kidnap a person! Normal people don't do that... It's illegal, he'll get caught, it'll ruin his life and....

What life does he really have to ruin?

That's the thought that sort of solidifies the decision. He realizes why he's even on this path in the first place. Sure he's got a lot of academic accomplishments, but his life is... Rather empty. He doesn't really have anyone. Maybe that's why he's slowly become... Consumed by this obsession that yes, he's now willing to admit to himself is indeed an obsession. It's kinda slowly taken over his everyday life without him even noticing it was happening. He's... Kinda miserable. And very lonely. And... If nothing else... This one girl makes him feel kinda happy.

... Which is why he's going to go through with it.

And he slips back into autopilot, ends up standing outside the building. It's every bit as loud and headache-inducing as he knew it would be. Ugh. He can't wait to get out of here. If this doesn't work, well, he'll be forced to turn around. The plan is a very simple one, actually... Act like he's supposed to be there. And he does. Dresses in all black like stage technicians do, dragging his big amp case behind him, holding a bunch of cords from random things he grabbed in his house, and tries not to look nervous, keeps a neutral face and walks straight forward and... He slides right in. The security guards off to the side don't even bat an eye.

And then he has a moment of "well, I didn't expect to get this far." Pauses. So uh... what now? Well, probably should find you first. He memorized the setlist, so he knows when you'll be off... And alone. Right now there should be three of the girls backstage. It's pretty easy to find where you are, but he's paranoid that the amp case is too loud as he's dragging it around. It's necessary, though. And then, finally, he stumbles upon the room... Opens the door, half expecting to be immediately stopped, but... He can just kinda waltz right in here, some open backroom, a person here or there coming through, a lady that looks like a makeup artist doing something over there, and an actual, real tech guy over there... And over to the far back corner... Oh. That's you. He takes a moment to revel in the sight, unable to move or even breathe, and has to mentally prepare himself before moving forward. He's... Not sure exactly what to do at this point... It's kind of perfect, to be honest, there's no one around you, and you're right out of sight, where he could turn the corner and not be seen. But he's not sure how to... Approach? He thinks about it as he walks, but again, autopilot is on in his brain and he's just numbly walking forward. Does he just... Keep walking until he's right at you and just... Or...?

And a miracle happens. You hear someone coming and you turn and smile and ask are you the tech guy here to fix my mic? You point to the little microphone attached to your face. They told you someone would be coming to fix it before your next song. You presume that's him, since he's dressed in all black like all the other stage techs. He hesitates a moment, wide eyed, but then nods. Yeah, that's him, he says. His voice cracks when he says it. It's kinda cute.

You smile at him. It's wide and sweet and genuine and it almost makes him pass out on the spot. He has to swallow for a second before continuing.

But, uh, he can't do it right here he says, because fiddling with it could disrupt the uh, frequencies, cause that really shrill sound you hear sometimes. So, um, come over this way a sec, over in this dark corner of the studio conveniently out of the view of all people and security cameras. You don't know how any of that stuff works, so you trust him, it's his job after all. So you get up and straighten your little skirt out - wow those are even more revealing in person - and walk over it the dark corner where he's waiting and... it's the last thing you remember.

He does a quick look left and right to ensure no one saw you collapse in his arms, but sure enough, this area is empty. You fit into the amp case with ease. Just curl your body up and pop the lid on. Wait, can you... breathe in there? Well, it won't take long to get outside. He just rolls the case right out the door, right past the guards again, and no one stops him, no one suspects a thing. Puts the case in the backseat, opens the lid, does a quick check go make sure you're breathing alright. So he props it open by keeping a book in between the case and lid as he drives home.

Once he does get home, he just does the same thing he did before - close the lid, roll you into the elevator and up the stairs and into his place, looking back over his shoulder over and over. And once he gets you inside he just kinda... falls to his knees. Shivering. Disbelief. Because holy shit he actually did it. He actually went through with it and it worked. He sits there and stares at the case and - oh, fuck, gotta open it again for you to breathe. Actually, he might as well... take you out... when he first shoved you in, he was so high on adrenaline he didn't really process any of it, but now... he almost can't bring himself to take you out. That means he has to, like, touch you. He's gotta take a moment to mentally prepare for that. So he does. Deep breaths. And finally, with trembling hands, pulls you out, carries you on shakey legs over to the bed and sets you down.

You know, you're a lot... Smaller... Than you looked on screen. Sure, he knew your height and weight but... somehow you still seem so much smaller than he expected. That's good. Will make everything a lot easier, since you're easier to restrain. And your thighs. They're... so soft. This is so much better than the video. They're so... fleshy and warm in person. Perfect. And wow, that skirt thing is... scratchy. Actually, up close, that whole outfit thing you wear looks super uncomfortable. It probably is. ...Well, guess he now has a reason to take it off.

The rest of your skin is... also fleshy and soft. Warm. Your face... chest... stomach... everything. Your tits are really cute, too. It occurs to him that all those rabid commenters on all those boards and videos would probably kill to be him right now, pinching and squeezing at your nipples. He's seeing something they will never see. It gives him an ego boost, to be honest, makes him feel proud to get a sort of one-up on them. He gets you naked, but refrains from pulling your legs apart. He probably... wouldn't be able to control himself, and he's aiming for some self-control right now.

So he waits. Breathes deep. Restrains himself with every ounce of willpower he has. It occurs to him he has no fucking clue what he's gonna say to you. Unfortunately, that thought occurs to him as you're starting to twitch and mumble, so, he doesn't have too much time to think. Oh, fuck, you're not restrained... well, he bought some duct tape and handcuffs and blindfolds off of amazon too, so he quickly puts those in place as you're starting to wake up, and then finally, you come to full consciousness -- that telltale jerking at the restraints, the muffled little cry of confusion and fear. It's kinda hot to be honest. Well, fuck, very hot actually. You're so scared. It gives him a rush of power. Said rush goes straight to his dick.

He's got a mixed twist of guilt and arousal at the whole thing, but... he's still trying to have some self control... and if you start begging and pleading and crying, it would be too much. Oh, no, not that it would be too much in terms of guilt, no no, just that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from fucking you if he sees you cry. So he leaves the restraints on for now, so he can't see your face emote.

Then, he does something really, really mean. He knows it's cruel, honestly, it's just... so cute. What that is, is that he does nothing. Says nothing. He goes about his work, typing away, knowing you can hear, but doesn't say a word. He knows you're awake, he just wants to see how long you can sit there scared out of your mind before you finally make another noise to draw his attention. Right now, he thinks, you're probably debating, you're probably questioning whether you should keep quiet and make him think you're still out or make a noise... but eventually you will. He can see you trembling. You're probably thinking so many horrible things right now, wondering what will happen, what he'll do to you... it fills him with a sort of sadistic glee that overrides the guilt it comes along with. Sure, the guilt is there, but fuck, he could almost cum just watching you shiver, and that's more important.

And you finally make a noise. A little whimper. He stops typing, and swears he sees you tense when he does. And when he stands up, walks over to you (making sure to stomp hard and walk slow for extra effect, watching the way you curl in on yourself with each step he takes), and stops right in front of you. Finally, tells you not to scream. He's gonna give you water, ok? You nod. And, surprisingly, you don't make any move to scream or anything, you let him give it to you. You don't move a muscle besides your shaking and sucking the straw and swallowing the water. You must be really scared of him. He knows that's technically not what he should want, but... it feels nice.

He spent that time of silence coming up with what to say to you. He says that for now, you're going to stay right here. Don't ask questions. Don't make any attempt to escape. If you really need something, tap the headboard until he hears. Understand?

You're... Surprisingly receptive. You give a twitchy smile and stammer out an o-okay. He's almost pleased, but quickly realizes what you're doing.

You've been trained for this, you see. This kind of thing is attempted rather frequently in the industry. You received training for this situation - comply, don't fight, prioritize your safety, because in 99% of these cases, the missing idol is found and recovered within 48 hours. So you do what you were told to do -- smile, pretend you're ok with it, don't do anything to anger your captor.

He knows that too. He doesn't do much in that 48 hours, in fact, he even tells you he's waiting to "see what happens." He knows he can't control himself very well, so he stays in his living room for the most part and works on research, it might be pointless if he's in jail a few hours from now, but oh well. Sleeps on his couch. He offers to feed you, but you say you don't feel good. He understands.

See, in his mind, if he gets to fuck you once or twice and then be hauled off to prison and never touch you again, well, that would be actual, literal torture, so much so that never fucking you at all would be more bearable. So that's why he forces himself to wait now. He feels like he can't breathe, he's so nervous, like any moment police are going to come knocking on his door. Every little sound makes him jump. He can't sleep.

But 48 hours pass and... nothing happens.

He breathes a bit easier. Finally dares to go online, which he's been avoiding, and check on your situation... Oh, wow, social media has exploded over your disappearance. But... They have no leads. Nothing. Says she basically vanished out of thin air. Situation is, quote, "looking hopeless." Huh. He did an even better job than he thought he did. There's videos from loved ones begging the captor to let the girl go, offering to give him money even. A lot of money. But, you're more valuable than any monetary measurements could ever conceive. And he's happy. It really worked out. Everything went right, and for once, he has something that really, really makes him happy.

Likewise, the 48 hours are even more torturous for you. You start out telling yourself it'll be fine. Hopeful. But that hope in your chest slowly, gradually dies out as you realize you've hit the 48-hour mark. Even for a normal missing person, you've always heard that if they don't find them within 48 hours... the chances of ever finding them goes down significantly. But, that's because they're usually dead, right? And this guy won't kill you, so, your chances are better, right...?

He comes back after that 48 hours and finally, for the first time since you woke up, crawls onto the bed, touches you, grabs your hips with his hands. Tells you that, well, they haven't found anything yet and it looks like they aren't going to, so you're officially his now, and he's no longer worried. You should accept it. It'll make things easier for both of you if you do. You'll get adjusted in no time, you'll see.

Unsurprisingly, you're a bit less compliant than you were when you had hope. You whimper and and struggle, but it's really weak. So much so it's cute. You ask who he is. No one important, he says. Just... A fan of yours. You can hear clothes shuffling. He doesn't waste time, he's already waited two whole days suffering, so he gets his dick in you pretty quickly. Manages to make you cum. It horrifies you and kinda surprises him too to be honest. You must kinda like pain, huh. Well, that works out well.

As time goes on, what hope you had left dies completely. Weeks pass. You realize they're not coming for you. In an attempt to get you to accept it, he even shows you that you've been replaced. They're rather quick to fix the absence. They have a new girl in your spot by the end of the month. He quickly realizes maybe he shouldn't have told you, from the way your face falls and you get all hysterical. Sorry. It's the way the industry is. Don't worry. She's not even half as cute as you.

He shows you the announcement when they close the investigation, too. This also earns a rather hysterical response, but he thinks it's important you see it, so you can finally come to terms with your fate, the way things were always meant to turn out. He gets a bit frustrated. Just accept it. It's not that hard. The sooner you do, the happier you'll be. It's for your own good that you accept it.

And you do. Try as you might. You begin to make conversation. He's the only source of interaction you have. You learn about him and his life. You become invested in it. You start to cum more easily. When he's sitting on the opposite side of the bed typing away, you find yourself slowly wiggling your way over and pressing yourself against the warmth, and he certainly doesn't mind. You ask him about his research just to hear a voice talk.

And sometimes you sing. It's absent minded, soft and quiet, when you have nothing else to do. He likes that a lot. You get sweeter. Nicer. Fight less. It does take a bit longer than two weeks to set in fully. But it does in the end.

He can't be with you 24/7, as much as he would like to be, so sometimes he has to tell you to just hang on a little while. Be good and sit still for just a bit. He'll be back soon. Just give him an hour. You're just really distracting and, well, his progress report is due tomorrow morning.

And you keep getting upset over the new member, bring it up a lot... It must have really bothered you, huh. Well, don't feel bad about being replaced. To him, nothing could ever replace you... you're still his favorite.

[sailorhyunjinz]

𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝐈

© 2021 SailorHyunjinz ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Pairing; Bartender!Changbin x Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warning ; ANGST!! SMUT!! skz side characters, semi-slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, depiction of mental disorders, consumption of alcohol, under the influence, self hatred, complicated family relationships, depersonalisation/derealisation, depression, alternative universe, implications of su-cide, semi su-cide attempt, su-cidal!reader, mentions of bl-od and injury, mentions of k-dnapping and murder, alcoholism, mentions of selfh-rm, mentions of knifes, gaslighting, smoking, mentions of weapons, mentions of pregnancies, a bunch of crying, fainting, toxic masculinity. 

𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 ; piv, protected sex (use of condom), missionary, dry humping, nicknames, sex in semi-public place, fingering, corruption kink if you squint, orgasm (m/f), cum,,,, other then that it’s kinda vanilla. 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 14.3 k 

O N E ｜ T W O 

From one survivor to another; cheers you guys. 

                         ⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ Playlist ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[FEEL SOMETHING DIFFERENT - Bea Miller, Aminè]

[Multi-Love - Unknown Mortal Orchestra]

[Beach Baby - Bon Iver]

[High Enough - K.Flay]

[Dope Lovers - DPR IAN]

[Make Out in My Car ; Sufjan Stevens Version - Sufjan Stevens]

[I Feel it Coming ; The weekend, Daft Punk]

[Space Song ; Beach House] (ah the loml and the album is called depression cherry so it makes me happy) 

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 ; 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

“Let me out!! LET ME OUT!”

You cry out, banging on the heavy wooden door until your knuckles bruise, red marks leaving their traces on your soft skin. The only lightsource is the tiny cell window, sun shining brightly and illuminating thousands of dust specks, floating around you like your lost hopes. The grey cement walls got closer and closer, seconds ticking in your head like a clock. 

This is it.

This is how you die. 

Crushed to death like a bug, your ambitions never getting their chance to prove themselves. All that you ever wanted to achieve was an impossibility as you were slowly but surely pressed together in the ever shrinking room. 

Salty tears roll down your cheek, a feeling of hopelessness washing over you as you turn your back against the door, sliding down to your feet, banging the back of your head lightly against the entrance.

You feel the rough walls hitting both sides of your forearms, a last ear deafening scream leaving your parted lips.

Until you woke up. 

With a series of jerking motions you sit up, panting like you just ran a marathon, the pounding of your heart audible to you. Darkness swallowed you as the night progressed, you considering yourself lucky to find yourself in your comfortable bed, still in your room. 

Only after minutes do you notice your wet cheeks, the tears not being limited to your dream world. You blink, your coated eyelashes weighing heavy on your eyelids as you wipe tears with the back of your hand. The shock from your dream didn’t reside, you now being too afraid to fall back on your plushy pillow, fearful of what horrible dreams awaited you on the other side. 

You grab your phone from the nightstand, immediately being hit with a bright light causing you to squint and turn away momentarily. 

[Search: being crushed dream meaning]

Multiple articles from all sorts of sketchy websites popped up, you clicking on the first one. 

“Stress or emotionally overwhelmed” 

You laugh lazily, the dream making sense as you feel yourself slipping back into a peaceful slumber, phone still in hand as the muscles in your face relax, jaw opening, your dream world once again inviting you for a dance. 

The sun woke you up with it’s radiant rays shining in your face, the closed blinds barely able to withstand them. Your phone was lying on the floor face down, you must have dropped it while sleeping you thought before rubbing your eyes from any dirt and staring up at the ceiling. 

Another day

Another day that I’m here.

You wish you could pull the covers over your head, get lost in your own mind and never deal with the outside world ever again. But you had to. 

You picked up your phone from the dusty floor that hadn’t been cleaned for weeks, you simply didn’t have the motivation to do it. The bright phone screen awaked you, you blinked your eyes a couple of times to see clearer. 

[3 Missed Calls - Mom]

You couldn’t be bothered to call her back. She was only gonna nag at you for not calling back earlier, wondering what you’ve been up to now that you’ve been fired from your job as a receptionist at the local hotel. What were you gonna say? Drinking too much booze and crying yourself to sleep every night? You couldn’t, that would only hurt her. 

Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

You got up, legs wobbling as you stumbled to the bathroom, head pounding from the amount of alcohol you consumed the night prior. Not with friends but alone, in your living room, in the one room apartment you no longer could afford. 

Ice cold water splashed onto your sweaty face, that being the only hygiene you could muster today. You turned the tap off, grabbing a towel and wiping your face and looking deep into your own eyes. 

That’s not me.

That’s not me looking back. 

You poked your tongue out, hoping the figure in the mirror wouldn’t move and you could confirm your thoughts but alas the figure followed you. You felt crazy, it was as if you’ve died a long time ago but still saw everything that happened. You could stick your hand through a wall and it would disappear you thought, nothing was real. Not even you. 

You entered your mess of a living room, seeing the wreck from yesterday night. Countless green glass bottles scattered on the table in front of the tv that was your only escape from reality. Blankets and pillows were thrown across the floor along with a box of tissues, your emotions bubbling up to the surface too often resulting in you crying and shaking on the floor, a feeling of fear washing over you late at night. 

You felt alone.

But you weren’t.

Fuck, why were you so ungrateful? You had everything. A roof over your head, a family that loves you, friends, food on the table. Yet, even this couldn’t satisfy you. You blamed yourself for everything. 

For your work firing you.

For your parents divorcing.

For your own pathetic life.

You shook your head as if you were shaking the negative thoughts out of your head, instead grabbing a couple of the empty bottles that were reeking with the scent of liquor and placing them on the kitchen counter. ‘Cleaning up’ in your eyes.

With a thump your back landed against the couch that swallowed you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace you got from no other person or object. This was your safe space you thought but not even your couch could save you from your intrusive reasonings. With a light click on the remote the tv screen lit up, your eyes still not used to the brightness since you’re always cooped up in your apartment where the blinds were always closed, another barrier between you and reality. 

Nature documentaries, your favorite.

The calming male voice of the narrator being the only one you talked to during your lonely days. The animals could make you forget. They lived so freely, moving wherever they wanted without a care in the world, either swimming, hopping or flying. You wish you were born as another animal than human. 

“The 52-hertz whale travels an astonishing 70 km a day but it’s voyage doesn’t bring social interactions. This whale is the loneliest whale in the world. It’s the only whale that is capable of emitting a whale call at such frequency, no other individuals communicating with the poor creature.”

You sat up in curiosity. It was a scream for help you thought. The whale needed help, it needed someone or something.

Just like you. 

You sighed, watching the lonely whale on your tv screen, seeing it’s gracious movements despite its size. It did look lonely in that deep dark sea, wondering how it would be to fall into the abyss of water, swallowing you whole and erasing the life that once sparked your soul. 

This was where you spent your entire days. The clock on the wall is ticking but the digits it displayed are oblivious to you. What did it matter if it was 5 pm or 1 am? You were still not gonna budge from your comforting seat on the couch. Drinking your feelings away no matter what time in the day. 

This was you. 

This was who you had become.

The sun started to set on the horizon, a delicate shade of light purple descending over it, covering the end of the world like the way a canopy covers the softness of a bed. You sigh, diverting your focus back on the tv screen after momentarily observing the life outside your window. Yet again, nature documentaries accompanied by the soft male voice, narrating every movement of the colibri that fluttered it’s wings at the speed of light on your screen in vivid colors. 

You got that look in your eyes. That look of amazement which you now only had when looking at the beautiful colors of a exotic bird. You moved closer to the tv screen in the now dark living room, the sun setting at a fast pace. It reminded you of the many times your mom shouted at you to not sit so close to the screen, scaring you by saying that you’d get rectangular eyes. 

Your childhood.

The only time you felt ease. 

The only time your family was as one. 

“y/n, what does your heart look like?” the therapist asked, scribbling mindlessly on a notepad.

“it’s a muscle that pumps blo-” you started but were quickly cut off. 

“no, I mean what does your heart look like, how does it feel?”

You sighed, looking down at the grey marbled floor, your legs shaking in nervousness. You hesitated before speaking, scrambling in your mind to say something sensible before the words came pouring out of you.

“i-it looks like a house. A dark, empty house,,, but it’s comforting.”

Once again you heard the sound of a pencil writing incoherent sentences. Curious as to know what secrets were on that piece of A5-paper.  

“is there anyone in the house with you?” the therapist inquired. 

You shook your head before speaking. 

“I don’t want to let anyone in, this is my safe space” you say, almost setting up an emotional barrier, not wanting to answer further questions. 

The person sitting across from you hummed as you stared out the window behind them, the green ivy bushes already grown tall enough to cover half of the grimy window. 

“is the house empty?” they asked to which you shook your head once again, avoiding the glassy-eyed stare of the therapist. 

“no,,, there are dusty furniture covered in white cloths and-,,, and family photos in the drawers.” 

“is it your family?” 

You shook your head in disagreement.

“How did you end up here?” 

You thought for a second, puffing out your cheeks, a habit of yours. You searched for a reason but not finding any. 

“I just,,, was here one day.”

“The sun never shines here.” you added after a solid 30 seconds of silence. 

You were stuck in that house.

The house that was once filled with happy memories of another family, you simply a ghost that was now trying to fit the broken pieces together, wanting desperately to see them smiling again. 

Tears started forming in your eyes, a shiny gloss over your orbs. 

But you never cried.

Not in front of others. 

You thought often about that visit. Why your heart was an desolate house and why the words spilled out of you like a poisonous liquid.

You closed your eyes, the bright colors fluttering behind your eyelids as the comforting sounds of the woods blasted from the tv. 

You wish you could be somewhere else. 

Anywhere but here. 

A single tear rolled down your cheek as a smile creeped up on your face, your butt against the floor as your knees were underneath your chin, your entire figure curled up into a small ball. 

You sighed as your eyes fluttered open again. You were still here, in your apartment that smelled like nothing but alcohol and disappointment. 

Firmly planting both your hands on the wooden floor you heaved yourself up with the intention of getting more tissues, the blue colored tissue box on the floor being as empty as others expectations of you. 

But as you stood up the entire room started spinning, small specks of rainbow flashing by your eyes. You thought you stood up to quickly grabbing onto the wall for a second before collapsing against it, your entire body shaking. You cried louder, thinking you were about to pass out. Your hair stuck to your tear stained cheek as your puffy eyes closed once again. 

What was happening?

The rain hit your unconscious body, your knees scraped from the concrete you lied on. You were soaked from head to toe, lying with your cheek against the ground in a puddle of rain. You woke up from your head pounding, your bloody knees only gaining your attention after you’ve looked around in a confused daze.

It was empty. An alleyway in the dark night. You found yourself panicked, anxiety bubbling inside of you. That’s when you saw it. A single street light above a red phone booth. You tried to stand up but fell over again as your legs could barely hold you up, now scraping your elbow against the gritty ground. 

Crying out, you started shouting for help. 

“HELP!! SOMEBODY HELP!” 

You screamed at the top of your lungs, voice cracking as your tears started to look identical to the rain that was pouring over your cold, helpless body. Nobody came, your voice only echoing against the wall that the phone booth stood near to. 

You got on all fours, crawling towards the light as pure pain shot through your body, small pebbles jabbing into the open wounds on your knees. You needed shield from the rain. Desperate huffs and groans escaping your parted lips as you dragged yourself through small puddles, the phonebooth seemingly getting further and further away from you. Looking through the soaked curtains that was your hair you were determined, this was life or death you thought as you continued to shout out for help, it appeared to be useless since the only other sound besides your own voice was the rain hitting the ground. 

Shivering hands grabbed onto the corner of the crimson red phonebooth, the streetlight illuminating your teary eyes. You held onto that frigid and wet piece of metal as if you were holding onto a treasure. 

As if you won a race.

As if you pleased your parents.

You looked up, dragging the inner side of your leg against the concrete, your pyjama pants wet to the bone. Desperately you got yourself together, your arms shaking as the rough pads of your hands met the ground, pushing yourself up into a standing position. You hissed at the pain in your knees as you grabbed onto the metal handle that opened the phonebooth, stepping inside.

The inside was surprisingly warm, as if someone had been there moments prior. A ripped piece of paper was taped on the glass pane to the right of the payphone, something that seemed like a phone number but could impossibly be since it wasn’t a full number. 

[1800-xxx]

You looked at the payphone and then back at the washed out paper, the edges of the note curling and stained with yellow. Only when you looked back at the phone again did you notice the keypad. To your surprise there was an “x” button. Your head felt heavy, deciding to lean it against the other side of the stuffy phone booth, your hot breath creating steam on the glass.

You wanted to wake up from this nightmare. 

Your entire body ached, let alone the blood that was dripping down your leg. The rusty payphone connected to the actual phone, a black handle connected to the underside of the machinery by a coiled metal rope. You picked up the phone, putting it against your ear and groaned when you remembered that you needed coins in order for the payphone to work

[0.5 gold/minute] 

You rubbed your eyes. Gold? You sighed loudly, your knees barely being able to hold your weary body any longer. Hesitant fingers pressed the number that was jot down on the lined note, pressing each key accordingly. You pressed the last x before you pressed the “call” button, not expecting anything to happen. 

But after a few seconds a female automated voice spoke to you. 

“Thank you for calling. This place only appears to the suffering. If you are receiving this call, congratulations! Your prayers have been answered. Drink the liquid in the paper cup above this payphone. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid.”

The voice lagged, a static sound accompanying the automated voice. Your breath got shaky as you looked around, holding the phone close to your ear with both hands. This could only be some sort of kidnapping scheme or this was a sick dream. 

“It’s a dream, y/n. Calm down, nothing's gonna hurt you.”

You muttered to yourself, pinching your forearm tightly and wincing from pain. This wasn’t a dream after all. 

Your gaze landed on the brown paper cup that was balancing delicately on top of the payphone, your cracking knuckles reaching for it as you let the phone fall out of your grasp, being caught mere inches from the sticky floor of the photobooth by the coil. Bringing the cup closer to your face you saw a dark viscous liquid that smelled sweet enough to sting your nose. Your face contorted into disgust, debating on whether not to drink the contents of the paper cup. 

“Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid.”

The voice continued ringing in your ears. You had nothing to lose. If you died then you at least got what you wanted. Holding your breath, you brought the cup closer to your quivering lips, parting them slightly as you held your nose tightly, not wanting to feel whatever horrible taste could be found in that dark pit of goo. 

It burned the moment it hit the delicate taste buds on your tongue, your voice muffled as the fluid descended down your throat, your larynx bobbing up and down with each gulp. Despite covering your nose you could taste the pungent sweetness, it tasted like pure acid. Not that you knew what that tasted like but what you assumed it would. 

You coughed, accidentally spilling some of the goo on the floor, dribbling out of your mouth. The heavy rain pitter-pattered against the metal roof above your head, your eyelids threatening to shut. The cup fell out of your hand as you slammed your forehead against the payphone, not hard enough to bleed but hard enough to bruise. Your jawbone hurt from how much you’d been crying, eyes puffy as the salty tears mixed with the rain droplets on your face.

“i-i’m sorry mom, i’m so fucking sorry.”

You rolled your forehead left to right against the rusty material of the payphone, your soaked hair covering your empty eyes. Your knees bent under you causing you to fall on your butt with your knees clinking against each other, the sticky contents on the floor sticking to the soft fabric of your pants. 

“I’M SO SORRY!”

You never thought a scream this loud could protrude its way out of your throat, the vibrations bouncing off the glass that to your surprise didn’t break. Everything started to become shades darker, almost as if a black and white filter settled over your vision. 

No, this is how you’re gonna die.

Alone.

In the rain. 

“Hyung, what are you gonna do with her?”

Muffled club music struck your ear along with a high pitched ringing, your eyelids felt as heavy as they’d been in the phonebooth. With your head pounding you slowly open your eyes, first not seeing anything but darkness before eight unknown men form a circle around you, hovering above you. 

You shoot up from your lying position, fear overtaking your body. Where were you but more importantly why the fuck were you alone in a dark room with 8 young men? Not thinking straight, you decided to scream once again, thinking they would back off and let you be.

“Get away from me!!”

The males covered their ears, groaning in pain and a blonde boy throwing himself on the floor, rolling around. 

“HEY!! HEY! WE’RE NOT GONNA HURT YOU!”

A strong voice overpowered yours, every word almost sounding like a grunt. You around, seeing that you were sitting on a soft leather couch before looking up at the male that was standing right infront of you. He was muscular, his biceps sitting snugly in the tight black t-shirt that covered him, a grey apron tied around his waist and his dark hair shielding his intense gaze and furrowed eyebrows. He had a jaw so sharp you could cut silence with it but silence was the last thing this room had. The boys were shouting at each other, trying to hush the others while screaming themselves. 

“SHUT UP!!”

The room got quiet as the muscular guy roared, the seven other individuals coming to a halt. You looked at them all with a puzzled expression, all of them handsome, a fact you couldn’t deny. 

“Where the fuck am I, who are you guys and p-please don’t kill me”

Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence as your eyes twinkled, tears teasing the corners of your eyes, fingers shaking in fear. The male closest to you sat down, the weight of the couch shifting. He rubbed his hand together before he started speaking in a calmer voice.

“I’m Changbin, bartender of the Lost Souls nightclub. That’s Chan, security guard.”

With his chin, he pointed at a guy in ripped black jeans with a white t-shirt, a sweatband across his forehead, pushing his slightly curly hair back. He didn’t look like a security guard, the only thing that might have pointed to that was the walkie-talkie hanging from his belt. You nodded before Changbin continued.

“And those are some friends, frequent visitors if you will.”

A light haired boy with shiny rhinestones under his eyes stepped forward after he’d been hugging the tallest guy in the room the entire time. 

“u-uhm, the name’s Felix! This is Hyunjin, Seungmin, Jeongin, Jisung and Minho, and yeah those two, Chan and Changbin.”

He pointed at each guy respectively and the room filled with small “hi’s” and smiles. They didn’t look threatening, all of them being very timid and looking down at the ground. Your gaze diverted back to Changbin that was staring at you the entire time.

“Can somebody tell me where I am?”

Changbin cleared his throat, stomping his boot a couple of times. 

“This is gonna sound,,, interesting but you have to believe me-”

You interrupted the muscular boy, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that it had dried. 

“Why should I believe you? We’ve just met?”

Changbin sighed. 

“Just,,, hear me out”. You nodded before he continued.

“You answered a phone call right?”

Nodding once again your gaze drifted towards the other boys that were looking at Changbin with googly eyes.

“Well,,, this place only appears to those who are,,, struggling with themselves. Obviously you don’t have to tell us why you’re here but,,, this is a place to let go. The only rule here is no fighting”

“Or dancing on the tables” the tall blonde boy added with a snark causing a squirrel-like boy to giggle, playfully hitting the blonde before looking at Chan who glared back at him, the boy being flustered and turning serious again. Jisung, his name was. 

“W-what did that phonebooth do,,, does everyone go through that?” you asked with a curious tone.

“Usually it’s a pleasant experience going in that phonebooth, the sun shining and people hanging around that alleyway before taking the phonecall and drinking the elixir,,, there must have been a glitch in the system.”

He sounded unsure, scratching the back of his head as he looked at all of the boys. 

“System? What system? I’m dreaming, right?” you said in panic, wanting to get out of this oddly suffocating room. 

“W-we are real and you’re not dreaming,,, it’s just that, we can’t meet in real life you know? This is a place to,,, let oneself go and I know it’s scary since you only get here randomly, it must have been hard passing out like that,,”

A boy with fluffy light brown hair and a pretty eye smile said, Seungmin! You remembered his name because you thought it fitted him, sounding both soft and sharp at the same time. 

“y-yeah,,, it was scary b-but thank you for caring about me” you said with a half smile

“oh! and also, we treated all your wounds, luckily you were passed out so you couldn’t feel the pain but let me tell you,,, it looked awful, I don’t understand how you did that Chan” Jisung remarked with wide eyes, looking at you concerned before turning to Chan.

“Did what?” you inquired to which Jisung responded.

“Removing the pebbles in your wounds, h-how did you even get those in there?” he asked to which you tried to remember, seeing hazed memories of you crawling on the asphalt in the storming rain.

“I was crawling towards the phone booth'' you said quietly as the boys gazed at you with concern. The atmosphere got dusked and in an attempt to lift the mood you cleared your throat, lightly running your hands over the bandaids that were plastered on your scraped knees, wincing from the contact. 

Changbin made eye contact with Chan, jerking his head towards the door to signal for him and the other boys to leave the room. Chan nodded and patted Jeongin on the shoulder, trying to scoot all the boys out of the room like a shepherd leading a bunch of silent sheep.

“Let’s have some fun! Drinks on me boys~” Chan exclaimed to get the boys off their worried thoughts about you, the curly haired male closed the door quietly and both you and Changbin stayed silent until the footsteps were faint on the other side of the black wooden door. 

“Is this better?” Changbin said with a slight smile at the end. “They can be quite the bunch sometimes, either they’re very much off the deep end or they’re just a rowdy mess” he laughs, looking out in the distance before he looks at you with your knees under your chin, holding your legs close to your body.

“So,,, we’re all here for similar reasons?” you mumbled, holding your gaze stable on his dark eyes.

“yeah,,, pretty much. We’ve all dealt with something mentally draining and of course you don’t have to tell but I just want you to know that nothing will hurt you here.” Changbin replied. 

“I do want to tell,,, but it’s just that I don’t want to be alone about it. I’ve never been around people that have shared the same experiences.”

Changbin slid closer to you on the couch, putting one leg over the other. 

“It’s like that for,,, almost every single individual in the club, we all want to tell our stories and this is the place to do it. No one is gonna judge you for it. I remember thinking that when I first got here, ‘everyone is gonna judge me for not drinking’.”

Changbin’s last sentence caught your attention.

“but aren’t you the bartender? shouldn’t you know all the,,, liquors and such?”

Changbin sighed and you regretted you sentence, thinking that maybe you asked a too personal question. 

“I do know them but not in the way one should.” 

Something clicked in your head when the boy uttered those words. You nodded silently, letting your gaze fall to your wounded knees as your shaky voice spoke;

“So do I” 

Changbin’s gaze was fixated on the floor as he shared what was on his mind. 

“But no one judged me,,, eh,,, I never asked for your name!” the boy said to which you giggled, reassuring Changbin that you were in a stable state.

“It’s y/n, nice to meet you!” you said, stretching your hand forward to shake his. Changbin smiled towards your gesture.

“pretty name, angel” he said, shaking your hand and noticing how small it was in his grasp, the cold metal of his rings contrasting to your now warm hands. He didn’t let go immediately, instead holding your hand and feeling it’s warm temperature, running his thumb across your knuckles softly. You snarked at his comment.

“angel? didn’t know we had established pet names for each other in barely 10 minutes of meeting.” 

“and I didn’t know angels landed in this place” he said back. “i’ve had to deal with 7 annoying boys that never listen to me,,, well, 8 but one of them,,, disappeared.”

You nodded, not wanting to overstep any boundaries by asking about that 8th guy incase it was an emotional topic. 

“how is it? working with alcohol despite having quite a rocky relationship to it?”

The buff boy hummed, drumming his fingers on the seat next to him. 

“It’s better than one might think. I get to be around it without engaging in the activity myself, simply serving clients and the boys  already know it, we look out for each other. Like a family you know!” Changbin said with a happy tone, not wanting the conversation to get you in a bad mood after all you’ve been through that night.

“family,,, could use one of those” you joked and Changbin actually laughed which you’ve never felt with anyone before, the only response you usually got was your therapist writing down your self deprecating jokes with their orange lead pencil.

“you’re always welcome to us” he said, letting go of your hand that now felt empty. You felt safe. There was no way of describing it but you felt this caring aura around this man, drawing you closer to him. 

“how long does this last? i’m guessing you go back to ‘the real world’ again at some point” you spoke, making quotation marks with your hands.

“it depends, it’s different every time but you will pass out just like you did when you got here but you won’t go back to the phone booth, you’ll wake up where you were last in real life. Time goes on in the real world but here,,, clocks don’t really work. We’ve tried bringing clocks or phones with us but the digits don’t change.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This had to be a dream. 

“w-whats with the gold on the phone? Does money exist in this,,, universe?” you asked with confusion to which Changbin shook his head.

“no, drinks are free and so are the phone calls, i have no idea why the phone booth says that or why Chan said that drinks are on him, he must have been stressed trying to get the boys out of here” Changbin said to which you giggled.

“i-is there any time where you never return?” you asked, earning a bittersweet smile from the male.

“yeah,,, if those issues you have get resolved but,, that rarely happens. Destructive behaviours feed of each other. Get rid of one and it gets replaced with another.”

You recognised that. It was always something, you could never live in peace without feeling the need to self sabotage. 

“Poor innie knows that too well” he added with an acerbic tone. 

“innie?” you tilted your head in question, gazing around the dark room that was rather empty, only a couple of dark colored shelves on the wall and the couch you were sitting on along with the ceiling lamp that was stingy with it’s light.

“Jeongin, the youngest among us. Poor boy has been through it all, if it’s not drugs it’s self harm and Minho is a real dick sometimes, bringing pocket knives in “defense”. He’s delusional, thinking everyone is out to get him and Jeongin knows this. We’ve found our precious little boy in the bathroom too many times, holding those stupid knifes Minho keeps having on him and crying till his cheeks puff up.”

You took a mental note to keep your distance from Minho, feeling bad for Changbin that had to be amidst this mess while dealing with his own emotions. You could relate, being the emotional pillar between your parents that hated each other to the brink of physical violence. There’s always someone that has to suffer because of other people's problems. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Changbin.” you managed to stutter out, not knowing what else to add to the conversation.

“Ah,,, don’t be, y/n! Just take good care of yourself, that’s what matters the most to me” Changbin said. You smiled, moving closer and hovered your hand above his shoulder.

“Can I?” you asked quietly to which Changbin nodded and moments later felt your warm hand patting his back. He felt listened to. Understood. And even though he was yet to tell you his entire life story he knew that you were different from the others. You actually cared about him. 

The room started spinning again and you clutched onto Changbin’s black t-shirt, trying to stabilize yourself. Those rainbow colored speckles you had seen earlier appeared again, vision blurring right in front of your eyes. 

“y/n? how are you?” Changbin’s voice was worried but he knew what was happening. 

“it’s spinning again, I t-think I’m gonna pass,,, out” you muttered, 

“It’s alright y/n, I’m here yeah?” His rough voice distinguished itself from his comforting words as you held onto the dark haired boy, a faint smell of tobacco interlacing with the air you breathed in through your nose. Your two arms were now wrapped around the male with your face against his broad shoulder, eyes shutting as tightly as they could, face contorting into fear until everything disappeared. The vague beats of the music. The pain that ached from your knees. The feeling of finally finding home in someone's arms. 

Everything turned into nothing in Changbin’s embrace. You were slowly turning into his everything because he had nothing in his life. 

And then you woke up. 

You gasped for air as you woke up in panic, hunching over on the floor in a coughing fit, clawing at your neck for oxygen. Panting on the floor you put your forehead against the wooden laminated floorboards, your frizzy hair blocking out the little light that was in the apartment and being hit with the malodorous smell of distilled alcohol. 

What was that?

You were convinced that it was some kind of wicked dream. An escape from reality even. But as Changbin said, you did wake up in the exact same place and position you passed out in. A long breath seized through your lungs as you shifted in your position on the floor. 

“Son of a bitch!” 

Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as the hard floor hit your wounded knees. You quickly sat down on your butt, lifting your knees up to your chin and only then did your heart drop.

It wasn’t a dream. Your eyes lingered on the bandaids that were placed with the utmost care across your both knees, a stain of dark brown blood seeping through the sticky elastic material and dried blood staining your knees in a haphazard attempt of somebody trying to wipe it off without hurting you. You managed to grab the edge of the sofa, levering yourself up with, testing out the strength left in your wobbly legs. Your phone lit up, sitting on the place you’re usually curled up in. Throwing yourself on the soft piece of furniture you observed the phone screen, lost eyes wandering mindlessly over the brightly lit display. 

What you noticed wasn’t the worried text from your mother.

It was the fact that the digits hadn’t changed from when you passed out. 

Your head snapped towards the tv screen and the phone fell from your hand when you stared at the screen, breath trembling.

The same documentary. The same colibri. 

This couldn’t be. Surely you hadn’t just stopped time,,, right? This was not something Changbin warned you about. How long until you meet Changbin again? An hour,,, or ever? 

There was nothing else you could do besides wait. Wait until the next time you pass out. And what better way to make time pass but to be confronted by your mother? You pulled up the text on your phone and read it hastily before scoffing.

[Are you eating well? Please call if you see this]

Since when did she care about you? You knew that she did care. Somewhere deep inside her motherly heart she did care but the way she displayed that so-called ‘affection’ didn’t make it obvious. You tried to justify every word, believing all the lies she fed you. You tried so hard to believe that you were healthy, that your mental health wasn’t deteriorating before the eyes of your very own mother that was refusing to see the truth. That her child was indeed in pain. You couldn’t blame her, it was her way of dealing with the issue but it didn’t make it easier for you. Your thumbs hovered above the keyboard, you couldn't think of anything better to write and quickly typed it down before you hit send.

[yes, i’m busy]

Busy contemplating your existence. Your father wasn’t exactly any better. Throwing out each one of your family members until there was only him left. He had no trouble filling that emptiness, simply creating a new family and forgetting you as if you were a chapter of the book called ‘previous life’. You didn’t mind, not after everything he did to you and your mother. There was no need for a person like that in your life but unfortunately it influenced you more than you thought, always seeking validation in either work or relationships because how could you validate yourself after your self esteem had been crushed by this tyrant?

You threw your phone on the table, a clink noise being heard as it hit a bottle, knocking it over but not breaking it. Your parental issues or mental health was for once not the biggest concern in your life, now instead wanting to search for the answers that could explain the nightclub. How did it exist? What caused it to exist and who was behind it? You needed to get back there somehow. 

The tv had turned off by itself, you found yourself waking up on the couch, using a pillow as a blanket, hugging the warm material closer to your body as you whined. With confused and lost eyes you scanned the room for a clock, hitting the table a couple of times and finally getting your hands on your phone, bringing it closer to your eyes. 

[3:02 am] the digits lit up. You rubbed your tired eyes with your left hand, throwing the pillow on the floor and using the phone display as a torch in the pitch dark room. There was no point in falling asleep again, you had already slept so many hours, sleeping anymore would only make you drowsy the entire next day. You yawned as you staggered towards the bathroom, flicking the lightswitch on the wall and squinting fiercely as you were blinded by the harsh bathroom ceiling light. You put the phone down and quickly caught your reflection in the mirror before you sat down on the toilet to pee, folding a couple of sheets toilet paper in your hand. You yawned again as you flushed, going to wash your hands but once again being amused by your reflection.

That’s not me. 

It’s the person I’ve become but never wanted to be. 

Your dark circles almost reached your cheekbones, the wounds on your knees still stinging even after hours of peaceful slumber. You poked your tongue out to which the reflection did the same, staring back at you with frizzy hair and puffy eyes from tears. You couldn’t trust it. Mirrors lie you thought and so does every single reflective surface in the entire world. You would never know what you truly looked like and that ignited panic in you, feeling your breath rapidly increasing as you held onto the white cold edge of the bathroom sink. 

This happened. Too often. It was the feeling of not knowing yourself or your surroundings. Like you had just appeared in this world, scared and alone. To not know who you are and having to live with yourself til the day you die frightened you. But you didn’t know if death was any better. Sure, the thought was comforting but being buried under layers of soil, having flowers and insects living their best life above you as you simply rotted away wasn’t the solution to all your worries although a moment of eternal peace did sound tempting. 

You felt a lump in your throat, trying to cough as if it was some sort of anxiety flem when in reality it was your brain setting up imaginary barricades. Your hair draped in front of your face and with furious eyes you peeked up, seeing your almost demon-like expression and smiling psychotically. 

I hate you. 

I fucking hate you, y/n l/n.

Your smile was wiped off the moment the room started spinning. Your reflection becomes diffuse in the mirror as if it wasn’t enough not recognising it. A loud gulp made its way down your esophagus as you continued staring at yourself in disgust. You blinked slowly, every time you closed your eyes you saw those rainbow colored specks all around, almost as if they were distracting you from what was happening, like a kaleidoscope for a child. You felt as if the ground started shaking, an earthquake in your personal world that was separated from the real one. Maybe you were going back to the nightclub, to Changbin’s reassuring arms or maybe you we’re really going crazy this time. The specks got bigger, turning into elaborate patterns in neon colors that clouded your vision. You kept eye contact with your reflection for what seemed like forever, despising the person that was staring back, your gaze broken as your eyes rolled back in your skull, your eyes white as if you’d been hexed before you collapsed on the frigid bathroom floor. 

“y/n? y/n, wake up!” 

The sun dazed your eyes as you woke up on the slightly toasty concrete. Changbin tilted his head as a cigarette was hanging out the corner of his mouth, bright sunlight behind him. He had on a jean jacket with patches from several underground punk and rock bands, his neck was embellished with multiple silver chains and his hair was slicked back, glistening in the heat. He knocked the wind out of you even more, as if passing out in the bathroom wasn’t enough torture. 

“oh y/n! you’re awake!” 

Chan says, coming closer to you, this time he’s wearing a tanktop that showed off his flawless abs, your mouth watering at the sight. You only then remembered that you looked like a mess, still in your pyjamas that consisted of an old sports event t-shirt and small basketball shorts. 

“a-am i in the club again?” you say, rubbing your eyes with both hands before feeling your head pounding a bit, sitting up slowly and feeling the harsh ground beneath you. 

“no! you’re at the phone booth, everyone is here now oh and, this is usual how it’s supposed to look.”

After your vision stops blurring you look around, seeing the same alleyway and the same crimson phone booth but being hit with a completely different atmosphere. People were standing in all types of fancy clothes, trendy bright colors, exaggerated makeup and 7 inch platforms. The sun was beaming, it felt like a hot summer day with friends, just like the old days back when you had friends. 

“why does y/n always wear pyjamas? don’t you have any cool clothes?” Hyunjin snarks, pushing his blonde hair behind his ears, displaying his dangly silver and black earrings. 

“knock it off asshat, the poor girl is probably scared off her mind” Seungmin sneaks up behind the blonde, punching him lightly in the stomach before he smiles sweetly at you. Duality was this man's second name. 

“t-thank you seungmin” you said, giving a smile back but being met with a surprised facial expression.

“you remembered my name!” he said, giggling adorably. You gave a small nod before you looked back at Changbin that was drawing a breath from the cigarette, puffing out a white cloud close to your face before waving it away. You noticed how tired Changbin looked, his cheekbones sunken in and his complexion bleak. He stretched out his hand to help you up which you grabbed, the insides between his pointer and ring finger being slightly stained orange from tobacco. You wobbled up on your feet, knees slightly unstable but feeling better from sitting down a while. 

“are you alright y/n? i could open that resting room if you want” he said before inhaling smoke once again, spreading in his mouth and intoxicating him. You shook your head.

“i want to see the club, why not while we’re there you know?” you said, smiling brightly and making his heart jump. Changbin hid the grin he so desperately wanted to display by dropping the cigarette bud on the concrete, stepping on it with his heavy boots that had chain details attached. 

“alright, whatever you want angel” Changbin sneered which caught the attention of the 7 other boys, all staring at the jean-jacketed boy. 

“angel? seems like someone has a crush” Hyunjin remarked making Jisung burst out in laughter. 

“says master heartbreaker” Chan said under his breath making Hyunjin furrow his eyebrows, diverting his gaze from Changbin to Chan instead. 

“come on you guys! can we not go to the club already?” Felix said, him also wearing a crop top along with a leather chest harness that accentuated his figure. Jisung nodded and made his way towards the phone booth that had droplets of steam on the inside, Felix and Hyunjin following shortly after the squirrel-like boy. You observed the alleyway. People leaning against the grey wall where the phone booth was, either smoking or chatting. Some were standing, others sitting down directly on the concrete, feeling the same heat you felt as you woke up. 

With unstable steps you walked towards the phone booth behind all the boys, Changbin staying by your side and waving his hands towards the 7 boys that had somehow crammed into the humid and stuffy metal building, Chan closing the glassdoor as a couple of the boys giggled. You and Changbin stood on the other side of the door, seeing how Chan grabbed the black phone you had once held with cold dirty hands and Seungmin giggling as he took a sip out of the contents in the paper cup, passing it around to the others that did the same.

They disappeared right in front of you. Your mouth stood agape. They didn’t pass out, they just disappeared into thin air, leaving the airless crimson structure empty yet again. 

“w-wait, why didn’t they pass out?” you asked, turning to Changbin as you ran a hand through your hair.

“it happens when you’re new. the body isn’t used to the entire,,, universe switch so you will probably pass out this time also but don’t worry, i’ll catch you” 

Changbin grinned, opening the door and being hit by the lack of oxygen. He held the door open for you to which you smiled, stepping inside and seeing that the paper cup had been refilled automatically. The door closed behind Changbin, you standing in close proximity to the boy as you lifted the phone slowly, still feeling the warmth from Chan’s hand. The dark haired boy grabbed the brown paper cup, not even looking at the goopy substance before drinking it, seeing his adam's apple bob up and down. You put the phone towards your ear, wondering why you didn’t hear the female automated voice.

“it doesn’t work?” you said with confusion to which Changbin smiled, pressing in the infamous number on the rusty keypad.

[1800-xxx]

“yeah, it doesn’t if you don’t type in the number” he chuckled, holding the paper cup in both hands and leaning against the humid glass.

Suddenly you hear the voice you were dreading the hear.

“Thank you for calling. This place only appears to the suffering. If you are receiving this call, congratulations! Your prayers have been answered. Drink the liquid in the paper cup above this payphone. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid.”

It reminded you of that night. That dark rainy evening. The voice started to lag, just like it did last time. You hung up and turned around whereupon you saw Changbin handing you the paper cup. You gulped and put your lips on the edge of the cup, looking at him with unease but feeling comfortable with his presence. You tilted the cup, feeling the sweetness trickle down your throat, almost stinging your insides. Changbin smiled, he looked like the typical bad boy from every cliché teen movie but it made your heart flutter, slightly embarrassed at the state of yourself. He pushed away from the glass wall and swiped his thumb across the corner of your mouth, wiping off the sweet liquid and licking it off the tip of his thumb. You stood there, frozen at the sudden action, gazing softly at him. 

“you had something there” he chuckled as you started to feel lightheaded again, your eyelids getting heavy. 

“thanks” you said shortly, your gaze drifting down on the dirty floor beneath your feet, drifting in and out of consciousness. 

Changbin didn’t say anything, catching you mere seconds after you collapsed on the grimy surface. Admiring your heavy eyes and puffy cheeks for a second before he himself disappeared into the abyss. 

“One Moscow mule, please!” 

An unfamiliar voice shouted through the blasting club music accompanied by what sounded like the shaking off a cocktail shaker. You groaned, your eyes fluttering open and being hit by the beams of a thousand light machines in all sorts of colors.

“Oh y/n!!” Jisung shouted on the other side of the bar, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the corner of the bar, on the same side as Changbin that was working diligently, mixing some concoction into a metal shaker. You rubbed your eyes, yawning and wondering how you could sleep sitting up. You heard Changbin set the metal cup down, telling something to the woman beside him, must be his co-worker you thought. He kneeled down next to the chair you were sitting on, looking up at you with curious eyes. 

“how are you feeling?” he asked loudly, trying to overvoice the music.

“im good” you answered back just as loud, the two of you locking eyes. Changbin smiled at you with his tired face, glancing over the glasses that were located beneath the bar. 

“you want something to drink?” Changbin said to which you nodded. 

“give me anything” you said, messing with your hair and sighing. You felt tired, an urge to sleep despite the loud blaring music. Maybe it was more of an emotional fatigue. A lack of feeling. And that’s usually when you turn to the bottles. Changbin nodded, standing up and returning to his co-worker, starting to grab all kinds of pretty coloured alcohol. 

“ay! y/n! come join us!” you heard Felix say, him standing with a glass in his hand, the other boys scattered around the club along with the other troubled individuals. You smiled widely, looking around and noticing the small exit gate connected to the bar. You patted Changbin on the back, him turning around with a grin before you exited through the gate, closing it after you and pushed through the crowd of people, making your way over to the boys. 

“y/n, welcome to where you will feel alive” Jisung yelled, spreading his arms and nearly knocking someone in the hand.

It was truly living you thought. Every single way to escape reality was located here whether it would be alcohol, drugs or sex. People dancing and jumping, grinding and rubbing up against each other. In multiple booths there were people making out, touching in unknown places. Many looked outright high, moving as if their body was possessed by some dance god, not knowing how to control their limbs. You could have sworn you saw Seungmin putting a yellow pill in his mouth, smiling mischievously at someone you didn’t know. 

So this was letting go. 

“y/n! here!” you heard Changbin’s voice call behind you, turning around and seeing him putting a glass of clear liquid onto the stained wooden bar with coasters scattered all around, a couple lime wedges floating around with the ice in the glass.

“vodka tonic, giving you the strong ones” he said, grinning, to which you smiled back, understanding the hint to his personal life through his eyes. The glass was cold against your warm hand since you were in this stuffy environment filled with countless people and without any windows, only a ventilation system that led to nothing. You put the edge of the glass against your lips, taking a sip and swallowing harshly, feeling bitterness that tasted sweet because that’s what alcohol does when it’s consumed on a particularly bitter day. Or life. 

The other boys were dancing, Chan mostly hanging around the edges of the nightclub and observing the nightlife. You made your way over to him, taking another sip in order to gain the courage to strike up a conversation. 

“Sup? you feeling any better?” he asked before you had the chance to even open your mouth. 

“better. why aren’t you enjoying yourself like the others?” 

“i mean,,, i’m technically doing my job even though i’m not getting paid for it. i just like to be in charge i guess,,,” he said, getting more and more silent as he spoke. You nodded.

“i do work with stuff in real life as well” he added, to which you raised your eyebrows.

“what do you work with,,, if you don’t mind me asking!” you said, taking another sip of what tasted like Lucifer’s saliva. 

“music producer! it’s tiresome but,,, i don’t really need sleep,,, or more like i can’t sleep. lucky there’s energy drinks and naps” he said with a giggle, his dimples displaying as he chuckled, leaning against the black walls of the nightclub. 

“must be tough,,, but wait,,, i’ve never heard your music,,, and also shouldn’t you be the DJ then?” you said confused, swirling the liquid in your hand. 

“but that’s the thing y/n, all these people, every single person you see in this room lives in another universe”

You gazed at him, Chan looking straight ahead towards the crowd.

“what do you mean by different universes?” you asked to which curly haired boy cocked his eyebrow.

“we will never coexist y/n, when i tell you that we’ve tried to bring our friendships to the real world i really mean it. we will never exist in your life outside of this hub and,,, it sucks.” Chan took a pause before speaking, pondering on what to say next.

“-thats what happened with a friend we had. i’m saying had because we don’t know where they are or what adventures await them. They just,,, disappeared” Chan said mellowly, you humming in response as you took a final sip of the devil’s juice, already feeling your face heating up.

“h-how does one get out of this place,,, forever i mean” you asked, leaning back against the same wall as Chan and looking right ahead as the song changed to a slower, almost psychedelic beat. 

“when said person gets help,,, or starts to feel better or when you hit the casket, three options basically” he says with an acerbic smile. “what? Do you like Changbin?” Chan says teasingly. “you’ve been catching glances at him this entire conversation.”

He was right, you had been glancing over at Changbin occasionally, you couldn’t help it. Was it an excuse for you to look at his cute face from a distance or because you cared about him? You laughed it off but Chan turned serious.

“you know that’s it’s not possible.” he says quietly.

“what? what is not possible?”

“a relationship”

You choked on your own saliva, being blinded by the annoyingly bright strobe lights.

“a relat- ya! do you really think I have time for any of that? besides,,, i’m not really interested in Changbin.”

“who said only you should be interested?” 

Your eyes widened when Chan said that. No way could Changbin have these weird feelings to you, the feeling shouldn’t be mutual. 

“h-has Changbin said something about you?” you asked timidly, gazing over at Changbin that temporarily made eye contact across the club.

“why don’t you ask him yourself? but i’m telling you y/n,, don't get attached, you will get hurt,,, j-just like i did once” 

Sure, you understood what Chan meant. Everyone was here for the time being. One day he could disappear if he decided that the life he was living now either isn’t worth it or he takes control and makes something out of it. There comes a time where you are too tired of living the way you do and so you do something about it, no matter if it’s good or bad. 

Changbin waved his hand at you, wanting you to join him behind the bar where now Felix was standing and annoying Changbin by tickling him or whispering in his ear as he moved his body with much fluidity. You smiled, waving towards Chan shortly before you once again made your way through the crowd, feeling lightheaded but in a positive way, as if you really were forgetting reality for a moment. 

“y/n!! come!!” Changbin yelled, bouncing slightly to the typical house beat that was now playing, barely holding the bottle of gin since Felix was pestering him playfully. Changbin’s co-worker opened the wooden gate for you, smiling sweetly at you and you doing the same back, your gaze drifting down until you notice the red marks around her throat. You were often scared by people. Not by their actions but by their way to cover them up and of course, you were guilty of this too. Looking at these people you would never guess the pain that was going on inside, the surface level happiness really is surface level. You could smile genuinely towards her, you didn’t have to understand everything she was going through but you knew how it was, smiling when bridges are burning in your mind. 

Sometimes pretending hurts more. 

“Changbin!” you squealed after you had passed by his co-worker, holding the empty glass that was now nothing more but half melted ice cubes and three wedges of bright green lime. Without thinking you put the glass down on his working station and pull him into a tight hug, squeezing your body against his and feeling the warmth radiate off of him. He froze awkwardly in your arms before loosening up, wrapping his arms around you and ultimately taking in your scent that was now mostly pungent with liquor and sleep, a soft scent that Changbin couldn’t get enough off. You felt safe which was rare in a nightclub especially knowing that most people were either high or carrying weapons. But there was something about him that made you feel like home. It felt familiar, like you’d visited his soul. As if the two of you were sharing the same empty house in your heart despite you never letting anyone in, too scared to be hurt again. Maybe you could let Changbin in, maybe he was different. 

The hug lasted longer then you thought, his eyes darting all over the stuffy room before he slowly let go, taking a long inhale of the almost addictive smell. The two of you locked eyes, a shy red tinged his cheeks that was only visible due to there being a spotlight just above him. 

“can i talk to you for a second?” you asked, rather boldy which was odd. He nodded and grabbed your wrist only to pull you in behind the same black door where you once ended up in, confused and dazed. He let go of you and closed the door behind him, you standing in the middle of the room that now had tiny light standing on the floor, nothing more new then the same old shelfs and black leather couch. 

“what did you wanna talk about?,,, figured you maybe wanted to tell me somewhere more quiet”

‘Quiet’ was an overstatement, the music was making the walls shake and even though it was muffled the jumping of hundreds of people could still be heard in the small dark room where you were alone, with him. 

“ehm,,, i don’t know really,,,” you stammered, not knowing what else to say.

“is something wrong y/n? Do you need to be alone for a while? i can le-”

“no, thank you,,, i just wanna be with you.” You interrupted him, his eyebrows furrowing when you uttered the last sentence. He stepped closer to you, the soles of his shoes making a pleasant sound against the floor. You lifted your gaze at him, Changbin standing right in front of you. Beauty that could make you drool. His hair was slightly messy, temples sweaty as he had worked and fetched all kinds of bottles for hours, the grey apron marking his title in the nightclub.

“but i’m here with you! Are you playing some sort of prank on me? did chan set this up?” he chuckled with a smirk, throwing a gaze at the door before diverting it back to your glossy eyes.

“n-no,,, Changbin, I want you”

His mind went blank and so did yours.

You don’t know why you said that but it was too late. The cat was out of the bag. It was too late.

“y/n? are you drunk?” he asked, looking at you seriously and putting the back of his hand against your forehead, suspecting you might be getting sick. You shook your head in response.

“no, it was only one drink, you know? i just,,, kinda,, want you”

You grabbed his hand that was still lingering on your forehead and drew it closer to your heart, holding firmly by his wrist. The clothed valleys of your breasts made contact with the rough palm of his hand, Changbin’s eyes still glued to yours. He scoffed loudly.

“and here i was,,, thinking it was some sort of unrequited love”

It felt like his hand turned into thorns, stinging your heart. So he wanted you too. 

Changbin’s hand that rested on your boob snaked upwards, grabbing your jaw as he smiled at you briefly, tilting his head and slowly closing his eyes, attaching his rough lips on yours. Your eyes widened before they closed slowly, eyelashes fluttering in a flirty haze. This was how it felt to kiss someone you loved. It was as if a thousand fireworks ignited inside your beating heart, flying and exploding in an array of colors. A pure lightshow. 

Your hands made their way to Changbin’s angular face, cupping his cheeks and feeling his sharp cheekbones against the palms of your hands. Your noses accidentally bumped into each other as your heads tilted from left to right, a sensual pace to the kiss to which the dark haired boy chuckled, adding some laughter to the otherwise grave situation that contained the sounds of two lips smooching each other. The music was only adding to the ambiance, Changbin’s hands wandering and exploring territory on your body that was foreign to him but very well-known to you. Your wet tongues danced around to a serenade, his kiss was strong, sure to leave an unforgettable impression on you. You would want him from now on and forever. 

You moaned into the kiss as his hands rested on your ass, groping the flesh that was covered by your pyjamas-shorts. This made Changbin cock his eyebrow, pieces of his slicked back hair falling into his face as making him look like a charming 80′s prince. His fingers danced around the elastic band of your pants, fingers hooking and playfully tugging on the string, a silent plea for you to take them off. You smiled against his lips, saliva exchanging in a heavy and steamy kiss, your cheeks growing warmer by the second. 

The two figures melted into one as Changbin pulled you closer to his body, feeling his cock poke through the coarse material of his jeans against your lower abdomen. Good to know that he was enjoying this as much as you were. Your hands descended downwards, traveling along his black tight t-shirt, the jean jacket from earlier being god knows where. The contour of his abs made you smirk, you knew what he was hiding beneath these clothes that you ravenously wanted to tear up. You palmed him through his pants, earning a hiss from the male that panted heavily into the kiss. 

You broke the kiss, taking a moment to breathe as your lips were separated by a lonely string of saliva. You grabbed Changbin’s wrist, pushing him down on the leather couch as you straddled his lap, feeling his hard-on against your aching wet cunt. You wanted him so bad and here he was, in front of you for only you to devour. Changbin grabbed onto your hips, pinning them down against his cock and leaning forward to reattach his lips on yours, teeth  accidentally clicking against each other moments before your sloppy hot tongues met, feeling his tongue against the soft surface of yours. The sound of lips meeting ringed through your ears, your hips grinding against Changbin’s crotch in a steady pace, feeling your neediness grow. Your hands ran along his abdomen, sneaking them up inside his shirt and tugging on the black material of his t-shirt, pulling it above his head. What was hiding underneath his clothes was more than a pleasant surprise. Your lips moved swiftly against his jawline, peppering kisses on his delicate neck as your hands teased the supple skin of his abdomen, feeling the outline of his muscles against your touch. 

Changbin placed his hands near your stomach, pulling your oversized sleeping shirt over your head in the same fashion you did moments earlier. You gasped as the fabric danced over your now hardened nipples, freeing your tits. Of course you didn’t wear a bra when you were in the comfort of your own home but you didn’t think anyone would actually undress you, especially not Changbin. He hummed at the sight, cupping your tits in his hands that were covered in metal rings, feeling the coldness against your heated skin. You shuddered, the sensation shooting down to your dripping core. He kneaded them in his hands as you rubbed against his cock, his boner having a visible outline through his pants, you couldn’t help but to fiddle with his belt buckle, undoing it and hearing the clicking sound of the buckle hitting itself. Changbin pulled away from your swollen lips, tapping you on the thigh to step off in order for him to pull his pants down. You moved to the seat next to him on the couch, the leather sticking back as you laid down, lifting your hips up to remove your pyjama pants along with your panties that quickly hid underneath the fussy pants due to it’s rather interesting print, small teddy bears printed on the fabric. You kicked off your shoes, more like slippers that you wore indoors. 

Changbin swiftly pulled down his jeans and black boxers in one motion, throwing them close to your pile of clothes at the base of the couch. Your eyes widened, mouth watering at the pure sight of his cock, a pretty bead of precum decorating his slit, contrasting with the crimson shiny tip. A big gulp descended down your esophagus, heat tinging your cheeks. He chuckled from seeing you stare at his member with shiny doe eyes that reflected in the small lamp on the floor.

“You seem,,, intrigued” he chuckled to which you giggled, not believing that you were really in this small room together with him. 

“Y-yeah,,, maybe I am” you snarked, moving your gaze to his eyes and smiling. Only on your way upwards his well-sculpted body did you see the boy holding a small blue plastic item. You furrowed your eyebrows when Changbin opened the packet, retrieving a slightly slippery condom from inside. 

“Do we even need that?” you laughed before continuing. “I mean if nothing gets transferred to the real world neither should pregnancies or STD’s” 

Changbin tsked, rolling the condom onto his veiny cock, turning slightly away from you to avoid your intense eyes. 

“Ask Chan, he would know” Changbin said, turning back to you and making his way over to the couch.

“N-no,,, no way.” You shook your head, your mouth agape as your eyes still danced over Changbin’s buff thighs. 

“Yup, knocked up a girl” he said, suppressing a laugh. “And that’s why y/n, you never think with your dick”.

“Being completely honest,,, I expected more from Chan, he seems really,,, responsible” you remarked, Changbin hovering over you and placing a soft kiss on your lips, his hands on either side of your figure.

“He is but I think love is his weak spot or more like,,, lack of love. He often confuses love with either sex, money or fame,,, might I even say drugs.” 

You simply nodded not knowing what more to add to the conversation, Changbin’s fingers tracing small circles around your nipples, sneaking them down between your legs where your cunt was aching after him. Anything, as long as it was him. His middle- and ring finger dipped into your heat, feeling the wetness between your folds causing you to hold on to Changbin’s sturdy shoulder. Without warning his fingers entered your dripping hole, fingers curling upwards and grazing your g-spot. You flinched, feeling his cold metal rings against your clit. The dark haired boy shushed, reassuring you that you were in safe hands and that he would make you feel good. Nothing else mattered besides you. 

His fingers grazed your velvety walls, thrusting up into your cunt with just enough vigor to make you clutch to his bicep, the firm muscles making you swoon. You whined, spreading your legs even wider, your left leg hanging over the leather couch, sticking to your thigh as your body was heating up from arousal. The wet sounds of Changbin’s fingers playing with your cunt along with your soft whimpers were louder than the music outside, you pressing your head back onto the couch, rubbing your hair on the material. Changbin licked his plump lips upon seeing your face contorting into all kinds of lewd facial expressions, his cock needing to feel your warmth wrapped around it. The pad of his thumb played with your clit, laying it flat against the nub and teasing it in small circles causing tears to prickle in the corners of your shut eyes. 

“a-are you alright y/n?” he whispered softly in your ear, kissing the shell of your ear. You nodded, your hands cupping your tits, pinching your hardened nipples, adding pleasure and heat to the burning in your core. Changbin pulled out his fingers, putting the slick covered digits in his mouth and watching you with hawk eyes as he lapped up your juices, humming in delight. 

“fuck you taste so good angel” he stated, making you blush, covering your face with your hands. Changbin chuckled, tapping the tip of his dick against your swollen clit and aligning himself with your entrance. You moaned from the sensations, wrapping your legs around him to pull him in, you growing impatient the more he teased. 

“p-please fuck me Changbin” you said uttered in a faint voice, barely audible due to the music. It was as if his eyes tinged with a dark color, full of lust. His eyes were hooded, looking down at you with half closed lids, sighing loudly with sexual frustration. He wanted to destroy you, make you his but he had to hold onto his composure. Holding you firmly by your hips he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you, grunting at the warmness that comforted him. You hissed, biting the inside of your cheek, your nose scrunching up at the feeling of being stretched out by his girthy length. 

“can I go all the way? does it feel alright?” he asked. You answered with a small “yes”, more worried about the door being unlocked, anyone could burst through the door in seconds only to witness Changbin fucking you on the couch. That thought was quickly wiped from your mind as his cock stuffed into your cunt, your eyes rolling back into your skull as he slowly thrusts into you, using the hands on your hips as a way to guide him, nailing your cervix with each movement. The tips of his ears turned red, the silver chain around his neck reflecting on the dim light in the room as it rocked back and forward above you. You placed your hands around his wrists, looking boldly into his eyes with, a feeling brewing inside you that was hard to describe. It was titillation mixed with yearning. You knew you got him here. He was safe in your arms. You wanted to save him from everything bad in this world but how is that possible when you can’t even save yourself?

“c-changbin” you said in broken syllables, his thrusts only quickening. “changbin!” you repeated, shutting your eyes tightly, curling your toes in pleasure as a string of pretty moans melodically fell from your mouth along with his name. You couldn’t take it, his cock ramming into you in a both mindful and eager manner causing you to claw at his forearms, nails digging into the soft skin. Your tongues were once again caught in a kiss, the taste of your tongue being irresistible to the boy but not sure if it was your love that was drawing him in or the subtle taste of liquor from earlier. His lips felt parched against your, his tongue gliding on your bottom lip before kissing it, his saliva feeling hot in your mouth. The boy above you pulled away for a moment.

“you’re so pretty like this y/n,, fuck, i think i love you”

You gulped but your silence was soon cut off from Changbin slamming his hips against yours, his cock hitting your that specific spot that made you go crazy, the familiar feeling of your orgasm penting up inside you. You moaned with desperation, the lewd sounds bouncing off the dark colored walls. This was music for Changbin’s ears. His grunts accompanied by your whimpers and the squelching sound of your walls engulfing his dick so tightly, the sounds alone was heaven for him. With every move against your body you felt the well-acquainted smell of cigarettes that you could almost feel in your lungs, an addictive scent. 

“i love you too, Changbin” you mumbled, slurring on your words from nervousness, feeling shy even though you were naked in front of him. He smiled, peering down at you as his hair fell from it’s perfect gelled state. You smiled softly at him, his cheeks slowly turning a red that matched his lips. Your moans turned to borderline screams, his cock twitching inside of you as he slowly got closer to his sweet release. Clenching around him, Changbin grabbed bent your legs towards you, gently rolling his head backwards as the pace got quicker. 

“i’m g-gonna cum! don’t stop!” you yelped, your heart thumping at the speed of light, tiny sweat droplets forming on your forehead. Changbin reached so deep inside of you causing you to thrash around, fiercely trying to grip to the edges of the couch. The burning in your core got intense, it felt as if a thousand stars were falling at the same time, bursting with amativeness. The sudden feeling of warmth took over your body, a pleasant tingle surging. A breathy moan leaving you stunned, grabbing onto Changbin’s hands that were pushing your knees towards you. Just as your orgasm washed over you like a ton of bricks falling to the ground, your body jolted with the last couple of powerful thrusts, a loud gasp slipping from his lips. His girthy cock released it’s seed into the condom, his hot breath lingering near you. 

He let go of your quivering legs, them flopping down on either side of him. Your chest heaved up and down as you breathed through your parted lips. Changbin pulled off, carefully removing the condom and discarding it somewhere on the floor. He snuggled close to you on the narrow couch, pressing his sweaty body against yours, taking a moment to catch his breath before speaking.

“So you love me too?” he chuckled. You turned to face him, looking deep into his dark brown eyes that looked pitch black in the dim light. After a loud exhale you answered him.

“No, I think I can’t live without you” you whispered, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. His stable breath tickled against your chin, your eyes slowly closing as Changbin was observing your features that he found insanely attractive. And it was even more attractive that you were his. But this couldn’t last.

“You know this is not possible y/n” he said with sadness in his voice as he gulped, his adams apple protruding. You knew it, the thing you dreamt of wasn’t possible since the two of you didn’t exist in each other's worlds. 

“I feel fucking stupid” you said with closed eyes, sighing after your words. Changbin shook his head. 

“Don’t give up that easily y/n, we can try”. He was right but what relationship was only visible in the darkness of a nightclub? Only a promiscuous one. Yet, you didn’t want to give up. Not matter what kind of relationship it was you wanted to be with him. 

“So,,, what does that mean? That we are-”

“Dating, I guess” he added shortly, the corner of his lips lifting upwards. It sounded weird in your ears. Dating someone you had only met a couple of times but it felt right. This was where you belonged. In his arms, away from all your demons. He truly cared for you, not like the others. He was unlike those in your life that said that they cared but never wanted to know more than the surface level of your character. He wanted to know everything about you. Your hurt, your sorrows, your pain but also your happiness, your joy and your solace. He wanted to know you. 

Your hands trailed up and down his upper arms, his skin feeling soft against your touch. The two of you cuddled like this for a while, Changbin running his hands along your hair, its smell reminding him of a green meadow of millions of flowers in all shapes, colors and sizes. He didn’t want to leave but if he wasn’t back in the bar the boys would start looking for him and the last thing he wanted was 7 boys teasing him for getting it on. You were more than a hookup. More than just a fling. 

Changbin stood up, squinting his eyes in order to look for his clothes and finding them scattered all over the room. He pulled his underwear and jeans over his lower body before pulling his shirt over his top half, the black t-shirt sitting snugly around his muscles. He ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head before smirking at you. Such a tease. 

“Do you have to leave?” you asked with a whiny voice, your arms felt empty once again. He nodded.

“i’m afraid so, don’t want them thinking I've been transported back without them knowing, they get worried but that’s only natural I guess.” 

You nodded back, putting your cheek against the leather on the seat, your arm hanging straight down, the back of your hand limp against the floor. 

“Get dressed if you want to have some more fun or you can chill here for a moment but I have to warn you, that door doesn’t have a lock” Changbin said, pointing at the only door in the room. 

“i’ve already noticed that” you remarked, grabbing your panties and only after you’ve pulled them halfway up your thigh did you see Changbin smirking at you.

“You’re cuter than I thought” he said, pointing at your teddy bear panties with his chin, stepping closer to you. You looked away, biting your lip in embarrassment as you felt his hand on your hair, ruffling it sloppily. 

“You’re making fun of me!” you said back with a pout, pulling your pyjama pants over your bottom. 

“yeah, because you’re adorable” he said, placing a peck on your lips. You wanted more of him. He was simply addictive. 

But not even this universe wanted to see you two together.

Your eyelids got heavier, your eyebrows furrowing at the familiar yet distant feeling. It felt unknown until you saw the small specks clouding up your vision once again. 

“y/n? y/n, how are you?” Changbin said with worry, grabbing you by your shoulders and looking at your apathetic gaze. “N-no, y/n, don’t leave now”

You didn’t want to but you didn’t decide when you left. 

You harshly held Changbin in your arms, putting your forehead against his shoulder, rubbing against it. Changbin slowly put his hands around you, patting your back as salty tears rolled down your warm cheek, putting wet stains on his shirt. 

“shh,,, it’s ok y/n, are you feeling dizzy?” he asked carefully to which you nodded mellowly, your bottom lip quivering as the multicolored boxes of light flashed before your eyes. The room felt unstable, like your legs wouldn’t hold you much longer and they didn’t when you collapsed into Changbin’s arms, him holding you tightly to his chest as your knees buckled. Your voice was unstable, a silent cry pleading to be heard.

“I love you” you whispered in a frail voice. The ear-deafening music from outside was tuning out from your hearing, your words slurring at the end as you repeated yourself for the last time. 

“I love y-you”

Changbin was left hugging air, his arms empty as he opened his sparkling eyes. He was close to tears because he was left there. Without you. 

“HEY! WHERE IS- oh” 

Jisung burst through the black door, the six other boys standing close behind him as they looked around the room, eventually catching eye contact with Changbin.

“She went home” Changbin said softly, letting his arms fall to the sides. Jisung inched closer to him, patting him on the shoulder where your tears were still left as a souvenir of your love. 

“She’ll come back, don’t worry about it” Jisung said with a reassuring smile, leading Changbin to the door, out of the room that smelled like sex and tenderness.

“Euw,, what is this doing here? Does nobody know how to clean up?” Felix said pointing at the used condom on the floor. Changbin’s face went cold, stopping dead in his tracks. 

“is it yours or something Changbin?” Hyunjin laughed, pushing the youngest, Jeongin, in a fit of laughter. 

The room went quiet after Hyunjin’s cold laughter. It was pretty obvious.

“YOU FUCKED HER?” Jisung screamed in Changbin’s ear, making him flinch away and holding his ear in pain. The room filled with all sorts of teasing sounds, everything from “ooh~" to “AYE” in obnoxious voices. 

“Luckily he used a condom!” Minho snarled, glancing over at Chan that was ready to beat Minho into pulp. Chan sighed, regretting that he didn’t shove the condom in Minho’s smirky face. 

“No but seriously you guys, y/n is more than you think. It’s not just another person I fucked, she actually means something to me.” 

Just when Changbin thought he had something special some of the boys started laughing even harder, ruffling his hair and poking his cheeks.

“yeah right,,, what? are you guys dating or something?” Seungmin asked, rolling his eyes.

“yes, i’m serious you guys! I love her,,,” he said with a frown, already missing your touch.

“What idiot gets into a relationship 3 months before they have to go to rehab?” Minho says, retrieving a cigarette from the red packaging in the pocket of his leather jacket. 

Oh fuck. 

Rehab.

When someone recovers from their pain is when you disappear from the club. You are no longer a lost soul. You are no longer lost within yourself. And that’s when you return to the real world, your real world. 

Keeping secrets in a relationship was deceitful in Changbin’s eyes. If you belong to someone you should be as transparent as the liquor he poured into his ice cold glass every evening. He felt guilty. You poured your heart out for him, telling him everything that had hurt for so many years and here he was, pretending. He did that a lot, mainly because he was taught to be a reliable man. It wasn’t manly to feel. 

Which is why he left his home at a young age. He didn’t care if he worked a minimum wage job and lived in a destitute area, he was content as long as he didn’t live with his parents. But when you live alone it’s not rare that isolation creeps up on you and strokes your cheek with a feather light touch, inviting you over to a dance with the demons that would soon cloud up your mind. Alcohol was Changbin’s comfort. It was the only one that didn’t fail to reassure him. It was as if the bottles spoke to him, promising him that a life intoxicated was better than the life he was currently living. 

And he fell for it.

Every time.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to live a life that is actually worth living. Change comes from within but he needed help and he had only recently realized that he had a problem, that these toxic liquids were what’s keeping him from chasing the dream life. He didn’t dream of much, just the average life would be more than enough, with someone he loved. 

But what was he supposed to do?

Take the step to recover or continue his addiction for the sake of being with you?

The demons whispered softly in his ears.

Life or Love?

Taglist ; @minholuvs @liz820​ @skztrashbag @lix-freckle3​ 

[thesoulspulse]

Danny Phantom Randomness (All By Myseeeelf...)

Maybe it’s because it’s that time of year, but while we know why Danny dislikes the holidays (or used to anyway) do we ever really talk about Vlad? Since we know so little about his background apart from his former friendship with Jack and obsession with Maddie, there’s no way to tell if he had a happy childhood let alone if he even celebrates Christmas or Valentines Day. Heck, we don’t even know if he has any living relatives left...

Originally this was going to be a post about Christmas specifically, but eh, I’ll combine it with Valentines Day since this is mainly a post talking about just how lonely our favorite fruitloop is. Someday I hope to change that by creating a character worthy of him who can help him through his problems and become a good influence on him. I’ve only seen this done once really well but maybe I just haven’t been looking hard enough. Because like I said, it’s kinda hard to write someone who could even get close enough to Vlad to hope to begin forming a real bond with the intimidating man.

I typically assume that Vlad was an only child growing up and I have a personal headcanon that Vlad has always had a deep respect for his father and that’s part of why he himself aspires to become the perfect father. As for his mother, Vlad has always loved her very much too and she’s the one who taught him how to cook, bake, and to use food swears to replace real ones whenever he gets angry to keep his emotions in check. I saw an adorable piece of fanart about that once but I’m not sure how to find it now sadly.

I’ve written this idea in several of my fanfics, but I feel bad that Vlad doesn’t really have any family left to curb his loneliness. Usually it’s hard to write them in since he���s such a selfish person so I typically say he lost his parents shortly before starting college which is why he took Jack’s apparent betrayal so hard. Near as I can tell, it was hard for Vlad, Jack, and Maddie to make friends given their interest in ghosts which I assume has been a lifelong passion for the trio. And if he ever does have family around, I assume they’re not on good terms since Vlad wants nothing to do with them or wants them asking him for money since he IS the richest man in the world.

That brings me to my next point.

Since Vlad is so rich, I tend to enjoy exploring that a lot more than we see in the show because the sky’s the limit, literally, when you’re the richest and most powerful man in the world. That could be another reason apart from his obsession with Maddie that prevents him from dating anyone. He’s not stupid, he knows most of them are only after his money and connections, they don’t love or care about him, they only care about the idea of him and what he can do for them. Same goes for random people showing up claiming to be his distant relatives or an old friend asking for a favor which he must have found some way to stop from happening.

Ironic given how it’s the same with Maddie. Vlad only loves the idea of her and having the perfect wife as we saw in “Masters of All Time” when he finally got what he wanted but was more worried about appearing to be the perfect happy couple than being honest with her and with himself, even lying about Jack hating them both for the accident since he doesn’t trust she’ll stay with him. We don’t know why he grew attached to Maddie in the first place or when. Was it a childhood crush? Or did he literally only meet her in college? And for the love of god, WHY does he have feelings for Maddie anyway?

It’s never actually stated why, just like how it isn’t with Sam and that bugs me to no end. All healthy relationships are about treating each other as individuals with their own thoughts and feelings, about give and take, about trust, loyalty, the willingness to accept both the good and the bad in a person, the restraint to set healthy boundaries and not try to control them or who their friends are, to give them space when they need it and be there to pick them up if they fall. Basically, the best relationships are friendships first, good ones where you understand each other and enjoy what you share in common as well as respect the differences.

That’s Vlad’s biggest flaw. He’s so wrapped up in himself, in his life being perfect with a loving wife and a son that adores him that he forgets to BE that person, to be that caring and loving friend, father, and husband/boyfriend. He says he wants love, but as we saw in “Kindred Spirits” when he actually had that love and loyalty from Dani and the other clones it wasn’t good enough. Vlad even went as far as to hurt Dani by angrily shouting that she only exists to serve him, proving he didn’t actually see her as a daughter, but as a means to an end even though unlike the other clones she’s half-human too. Even if it felt artificial, all of the clones genuinely loved Vlad, he’s all they had ever known, which what makes what happened to most of them all the more tragic.

All but one of the clones, aka Dani, perished without ever coming into their own which is why I’m doing my best to give Vlad another chance at parenthood in my fanfic “Ghost in the Machine” before it’s too late for him to turn back and choose to change for the better once the love he’s been longing for is within reach. Because personally, I think Vlad wants to be a father more than he does a husband. Part of that is because of his reactions in “Maternal Instinct” when Maddie pretends to flirt with him to get back home since he’s the only one with a phone and transport for miles around.

He seems shocked at the sudden change in her and goes along with it, eventually pleasantly pleased with the result. I hate how he takes no responsibility for being a jerk and says it was Maddie’s ‘mistake’ to marry Jack which is beyond creepy and manipulative. Especially given how he blatantly asked a MARRIED woman with two children to leave her husband to come live with him out of the blue, which is beyond stupid and downright arrogant which is the whole point. Not to mention he doesn’t so much as mention Jazz there which as you’ll recall he left with Jack who he had sent ghosts to go kill, meaning he has no interest in her as a daughter, only Danny as his ‘perfect half-ghost son.’

That’s why when Danny pretends to actually want him as his new dad...while Vlad understandably suspects it’s only a lie at first since he knows Danny better than that, once it seems like his hopes are confirmed, he literally tears up and the pure joy on his face is unmistakable. He wants it to be true so badly he leaps at the chance to get everything he wants, further proving what a selfish jerk he is who doesn’t care about what they want. I mean, did he really expect Danny to turn around and forgive him after he sent a HORDE of ghost monsters to kill him while he was powerless? That is, unless it was only a scare tactic and he had no intention of actually killing Danny and that, right there, is clearly more manipulation on Vlad’s part as he isolates him and his mother to try and make them both his by force.

As weird as it may sound, it was actually this reaction and the affection he showed towards the first Maddie-the-cat later in the series that gave me hope there was a small chance this fruitloop could turn things around, even back when I first watched the show. He might never be able to convince Maddie to leave Jack, but maybe he could finally let go of her and try to meet someone new that could love him for who he is (once he stops the evil schemes mind you or tones them down at least) and not his money. And for Danny, he could be a father-figure or a real uncle and a mentor instead of the villain.

But alas, it was not to be.

Still, while I still feel like Vlad is capable of love, he clearly does not remember HOW to genuinely love someone else. He doesn’t know how to put anyone else first, how to be honest with his feelings, how to accept disappointment, and most of all...how to love himself without it being in a narcissistic way. That’s what makes this all the more tragic. He’s constantly sabotaging himself, losing chances to be a part of their lives in a realistic and healthy way even if it’s not possible for his perfect life with them to exist. And the love he could have found raising Dani all went to waste when he rejected her for disobeying him.

So yeah, this is just my personal take on Vlad so take from that what you will. All I wanted to really say is I would love to see Vlad find REAL love from someone to help him come back from the brink before it’s too late. Despite the awful things he’s done, in the end, he is genuinely lonely and doesn’t have any friends or family that we know of. That’s probably why we love giving him adopted kids so much, because it gives them both a much needed second chance at a happy life with a new family.

[dankmyfarrik]

Our Angel | Chapter 4: Sell Your Soul

Masterlist, Previous Chapter

Summary: You are hired to pleasure a lonely Mandalorian. It’s just a paycheck. |Post Season Two

Read it here:

(Personal preference)

Wattpad

Archive Of Our Own

Individual Chapter Warnings: Grumpy!Din, P in V (rougher than the usual), unlabeled illnesses, anxiety, etc.

Authors Notes: Kinda scared with the whole tumblr tags thing… we shall see!

Word Count: 5.9K ish

"Whoa!-h" Your breath is sharply cut. "M-Mando! You see the ship!"

You couldn't quell your childish enthusiasm even if you were about to topple over the edge of bliss. You had never seen a ship flying through space before, despite being in one.

He only grunts in response, hands anchored to your hips—probably not even looking out the window of the cockpit but watching as he repeatedly disappears inside of you.

"Is that," you squeak for a moment when you're incapable of producing a different sound, "a X-s'wing?"

He groans again, hand returning to the back of your neck so he can lean forward and see what you were referring to out the window. The change of angle with the way you were now pressed deeper into the cockpit controls made you choke off a sob. After Hoth, he has had you in the cockpit a couple of times. None of them while you were in hyperspace, thankfully, but it is probably his favorite spot. You make a mental note and sacrifice that fact that after each time, your breasts are dented with the outlines of levers and buttons.

"Transport ship," he bites out, harsh, unimpressed.

Stupid girl, you could all but hear him say, everyone knows that. But you fall over the edge before you can give it another thought.

—-

"The soup is on the stove," you hum, looking up from your latest drawing, "we gotta eat the last of the fresh stuff before it goes bad."

He doesn't respond; he just opens the lid and looks down at the pot. Examining the contents with tense shoulders.

"I uh." He grabs a bowl from the cabinet - still not speaking. "I will get more the next time we are in civilization."

He fills the bowl with the steaming broth and heads back up the ladder, not saying a word.

Okay… that was weird.

It's not that you required a thank you, in fact, you didn't care. But that was completely like night and day to how he usually is. Did you say something? The ship is so big and empty, your paths hardly cross. You normally only see him when he seeks you out for sex, and even then, you don't say much. You always try to be friendly regardless—had to be for any customer service job—and he still was tipping you fine.

You scold yourself for overanalyzing every detail. He's covered in armor; how could you know if his shoulders were tense. He hardly says anything anyways. Maybe he is dealing with a slippery bounty and was deep in thought. You were probably just being annoying by talking.

—-

"I got a perfect score on my Midi-chlorian paper! Mr. Aphra says I should enter it in the Athleticon for a scholarship. He says I actually have a good chance!"

Mazey's blue hologram beams from ear to ear. You haven't seen her this happy in months. Mando has been out for a few hours now, and you were watching the triplet sunrise out the cockpit window when she called.

"Wait, Mr. Aphra? I thought you hated him?"

"I do!" She giggles, "But he rarely gives compliments. That's why I'm so excited about it."

Her hologram flickers.

Mazey begins a heated (and somewhat angry?) rant about Midi-chlorians. She made a passionate argument supported with statistics, lab reports, and eye-witnesses… You zoned out within the first few minutes, math was never your strong suit, but you didn't stop her. You missed her inflections, the way her brows furrowed when she had an idea, or how her bottom lip caught behind her teeth. Most of all, you missed her voice. Your apartment was small for the four of you, so there was always something loud bouncing off the walls, whether it was the newest holo, Tim, or Mazey complaining about her midterms.

Mando was not much of a conversationalist. And the issue with being in space was: it's a vacuum. The sounds stopped at the occasional beeping and the steady hum of the engine.

So you enjoyed every minute here with Mazey.

"So, how much is the scholarship?"

The oranges in the sunrise slowly fade into soft pinks.

She swallowed, "Four years tuition, housing, and transport fees for the whole family."

Holy bantha dung.

It's a way out.

"Mazey," you murmur, "It's okay if you don't get it. We will make do either way."

"Let me hope," she whispers. You both know throwing everything away on a whim is dangerous—plenty of people in Canto Bight can tell you that—but hope is what keeps you fighting another day. What gets you out of bed every morning.

It is even more dangerous— and crushing.

"We will make do either way," you repeat, but the faraway look in her eyes tells you she didn't really hear.

"How is your," she pauses, "mechanic job?"

Mazey is too smart to be stuck on Cantonica.

"Good!" you choke on your spit, "lots of stuff to do!"

"Hmm," her eyes narrow, "the credits roll in at odd hours of the day. And in seemingly random intervals."

She knows. And you know she knows you know. Whatever that means.

You gather your completion, "That must be a holo glitch of some sort. I will see what I can do. But besides that, you guys are getting the credits, okay?"

The warmth in her face and the sparkle in her eye returns, "Yes. Mom got through another round of medicine without any checks bouncing. Oh and Ti—"

"HI, SIS!" You see Tim's nose flashes across the holo.

"Hey, bud!" You laugh, "What's new with you?"

"Look," he squeals, a noise you didn't realize you missed, "I got a toy from the cereal!"

"Yes," Mazey explains, "we splurged and got Tim the cereal with the mystery…"

She trails off, suddenly looking sad, regretful.

Her eyes darted up quickly to meet yours, "I'm sorry, is that—"

"No," you interrupt without thinking twice, "buy him the cereal he likes."

Then softer, "Please."

You both exchange a look, an acknowledgment for words you would never dare to speak. Words she eloquently avoids and makes you feel comforted all the same.

"If at any point you want to come home, you can. We will make do either way."

Mazey just paraphrased what you had told her moments before. But the thing is: there is no other way.

In Cantonica, there is only gambling.

And pleasure.

You've already sold your soul.

"But you are not going to do that, are you?"

"No. I'm not."

——

You spoke with Mazey and Tim until the Batuu sunrise lost its color and sent strips of light into the cockpit.

Now, with Mando's gruffed permission—he still seemed off— to leave and shop around at the nearby market stalls, you took a deep breath and enjoyed the clean, crisp air.

Batuu was quite simply beautiful but not in the rolling hills traditional sense. Yes, the planet had a fair share of those too, but the towering rocks gave Batuu a storied past.

You follow along a river; a group of kids swing off a rope tied to a tree into the creek. You chuckle as you pass. Finally, the marks in the path became denser indicating you were getting closer.

The marketplace here was more developed than the one in Takodana; each trading post was a stand-alone domed building surrounded by the iconic chiseled rocks.

You look up past the tops of the domes to see the trees resting at the very tops of the rock tower and above them, the swirling clouds and the soft triplet suns.

You return your gaze to the shop in front of you, there were fruits you recognized, thanks to your holo shows, from all across the galaxy. More fruits still you had never seen before.

But you feel obligated to enter when your eyes meet the shop owner, an older woman with a bird resting on her shoulder and a pink hat.

"Bright suns," you smile, the traditional Batuu greeting.

"Bright suns indeed," she echoed, encouraging you to explore further into the store.

"Do you barter instead of taking credits here?" You ask, removing your charcoals and paper from the bag you brought with you.

The woman gave you a curious look, and the bird tilts its head to the side.

"I'd like to make an offer."

——

Your journey back to the ship was strenuous because you carried so many bags.

The woman loved the drawing of the bird so much she had you meet all of her friends… who also just so happened to be shop owners… who also all loved your drawing of her bird.

You carried produce and snacks from a total of 15 different planets, outer rim, and core worlds alike. You just unlocked a world of recipes.

You are torn from your thoughts with a bang. A man stands down the trail aways down; he had sent his foot into the side of his hovercart. Well, it currently wasn't a hovercart. The vehicle was broken down and smoking.

The man, who still has not seen you yet, drops his head between his shoulders in frustration.

"I don't know what we are going to do, kid. Got any suggestions?"

You heard a defeated noise come from a small bundle of blankets sitting in the cart.

The man laughs, "I don't think kicking it again will do it any good."

You step on an unfortunately placed stick, and his head whips up over to you before relaxing.

"Bright suns," he greets, but there is still a layer of frustration behind his voice.

"Bright suns," you repeat, "in need of a mechanic?"

That's when you realize: he's attractive… and missing three fingers.

His hair sits in a dark brown mop atop his head but becomes black where the sweat has glued it around his temple. He has a sharp jaw, not as broad as Mando but probably a few inches taller (if that was even possible).

He was covered in dirt and grease, but you could tell that was the norm. His hands had noticeable nicks and cuts, and, oh, he was missing his ring, middle, and index fingers on his right hand.

"Ideally, yes," he muses before trailing off.

But he didn't need to say the rest because you already have a thousand times before: credits.

There is another sad noise from the bundle of blankets. It's a child with a mop of hair just like the man's.

The man looks down at the kid and grimaces. Your heart aches.

"Can I take a look? I've worked a few mechanic jobs in the past. We might get lucky."

"I-I don't have many credits to offer you."

"I can tell," you gesture to the dent in the side of the cart that was made by his foot.

He blushes and avoids your gaze.

It's endearing.

—-

After inspecting the damage and realizing you don't have the tools you need to fix it, you follow him back to his farm - your groceries hidden in the shade of a nearby tree.

You learn how he lost his fingers; it was relatively recently in a farm equipment accident. He said he was lucky to just get his pinky away from the blades quick enough.

It makes you laugh.

The farm had a charm to it. Fields were rested upon sloping hills and interrupted by the occasional rock tower. Droids carrying baskets of wheat hummed in the distance. There was the creek of the old wood of the farmhouse. It also had a domed roof and a cozy interior with an unexpected amount of paintings lining the walls.

"My husband was an artist," he gestures loosely across the room, keeping his head down as he pours you a glass and hands it to you, "here."

You noticed the past tense. And if the art is still on the wall…

He leaves the room for a moment, ducking under the lowered door frame with beads. The child looks at you with a lopsided smile.

You swirl the drink in your hands, the ice clinking against the side of the glass, which prompts the kid to clap his hands in amusement.

The man returns with a toolbox and some gloves; he smiles when he sees that the kid is happy.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

—-

"It will take me a couple of days, but I can do it," you shout from under the cart, "just don't be speeding in this thing."

"Wasn't planning on it," he gruffs.

You shimmy out from under the vehicle, the notorious stains along your cheek and hands. Unfortunately, the 'shimmy' disrupted the shirt you were wearing, and the extremely intentional placement of your hair—Mando's bite mark was still very obvious on your neck.

You felt the moment his eyes found the mark, as they fixed on your neck. You, rather too quickly, fling your sweaty hair to cover the spot with a snort.

You suppose it could have been worse. He could have seen the band on your arm too.

Knowing he was caught, his hazel eyes snapped back to yours, his blush returning.

Neither of you mentions it out loud. You just grab a quick drink and shimmy back under the cart.

___

You were right. It took you precisely two days to fix the cart. But eventually, with a cough and sputter, the rust bucket was able to continue its journey.

After the cart is 'fixed,' he invites you to tinker around the farm. Each day Mando is gone, you come back and fix whatever project needs it the most. It's nice; you get to be out of the ship and enjoy the clean, non-polluted or filtered, air.

You never learn the man's name, and he never asks for yours. Such information is rarely given out freely in the outer rim. Stories, however, are free game.

He learns about you and the jars you are going to bring back home.

"I know a spot!"

He brings you to a creek on the edge of his farm. The bank has mosses, flowers, critters, and rocks smoothed from years of being under the gentle current.

"It's perfect, thank you."

You work together to craft the terrarium. You place in stones and dirt to act as a filter, and then you begin on the hardscape. The kid wobbles up to you, dripping from playing in the creek, and hands you the perfect stone. You place it up right next to a mini tree you had crafted, the rock structure an excellent resemblance.

He gives you a string and tag, and you label the jar.

Batuu

You learn about him and his son. His husband passed a few years back. He keeps his art on the walls as a reminder of the man he once knew. But the art supplies stay stored away—untouched.

"Really, I can't," you gesture to the small coloring pencil set he hands you one day after lunch, "this must have meant a lot to him. I can't just take it."

"Nonsense! You think he would want it wasting away covered in dust?" He maneuvers the set in his hands, the pencils nearly falling out because of his hindered grip.

You wanted to tell him that there were plenty of other art forms that did not require a stable hand, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn't interested.

"Thank you."

With the set, you draw a portrait of the kid with the colors he chose. You made the drawing as realistic as possible, besides the fact he only let you use red, blue, and green.

He loves the offering so much he shrieks and busts out with giggles.

It makes you homesick.

You know the substitute teacher back in Canto Bight your students are left with in your absence… and he is very capable… it's just that you miss coming up with the art projects for the little ones to do and seeing what they end up with. More often than not, their little creations do not resemble the original—and that's your favorite part of the job.

——

On the 8th day, Mando has been gone, your stomach starts to get queasy.

It is a concoction of financial anxiety, fear of his safety, and the one that has your gut-churning the most painfully: homesickness.

You are walking to the farm to tinker some more, except there is nothing but the bubbling creek and distant birds chirping to slow your racing mind.

The credits are good. You tell yourself over and over. It sounded like there was extra this time around… well enough for Mazey to let Tim get the cereal with the toy.

The thought makes you smile: this is worth it. Stability and security are worth it. You just have to hold out for about five more months. The credits are good. You are doing good. Mazey will get her scholarship. It will be okay.

It will be okay. Except it wasn't. Those were the words mom told you when she got her diagnosis.

If she passes—you should be there.

Yet here you were, multiple hyperspace jumps away with a bounty hunter.

No, don't think like that. She is strong. Stronger than yourself, stronger than he ever was.

She will be on her feet soon. It will be okay. She will be another source of income, working her odd jobs, like she always used to enjoy. It will be okay.

Your homesickness fades to a warm simmer near your heart. You wonder what shows Tim is watching or if he has made any more friends at school.

You snort a laugh as you keep walking, thinking about all the boys Mazey has turned down because she was "too busy" or "I have to study." She didn't like any of the options in Canto Bight.

Not recently, but at least once a month, the stars would align, and she would spend her free time with you. You would drive around the beach or the upper city laughing for hours—passing plenty of boys as you went.

She would never partake—but you would.

Most experiences were sticky and regrettable… but the Mandalorian… was an anomaly. It probably was the armor or the vocabulator—he made you kriffing feral.

You continue on the upward sloping path for a little longer. So as a sharp ray of light hits your eyes, you are still thinking of Mando. You track the insulting light to its source, and your heart curdles.

Did you summon him with your thoughts?!

You have to look a fair way down, not realizing how high the trail went when you were not paying attention, but Mando is standing there staring up at you.

"Got the bounty," he greets.

"It took a while," you tease, sensing an opportunity, "I've missed you."

You rock back and forth on your heels, and hands folded sweetly at your front.

"My fingers just don't compare."

Did you just go days without seeing each other and that's the first thing you say? Yes. You suppose you are just in one of those moods. And credits have been rolling around your mind since your holo call with Mazey.

You hear the growl even though you are about triple his height above him. Apparently he is in one of those moods too.

"Let's get you back to the ship then." He cocks his helmet in that direction, urging you to come down, masking his need for yours.

You won't let that fly.

"After making me wait this long? I think you should work for it."

And then you do somthing stupid.

Fueled by an inordinate amount of lust and desire for credits that would make a Canto Bight gambler proud—you lift up your top, bra, and all for just a millisecond— and book it in the opposite direction.

You've never heard Mando raise his voice… but you think he does now.

You won't ever know, of course because your lungs are exploding in your chest as your legs carry you as fast as you can run. It's been ages since you've run like this. You can't even explain why you are running—you just do; it just feels like you should.

Mando won't get to you right away. The hill was too steep to climb; he would have to go around. Since your half-baked idea to get more credits involves running: you need as good of a headstart as you can get.

A Mandalorian is paying you for sex, and you just told him he has to work for it, flashed him, then ran away. You're dead.

Holy bantha dung, you are running from a Mandalorian whose stride dwarfs you by a laughable amount.

You nearly blow straight over into the creek, stumbling to catch yourself, then you continue following the river upstream—pulse in your ears.

Your foot snags on a stick, and you stagger, but you don't fall completely. There was this strange feeling, like he is everywhere, on your tail, watching you struggle.

Maker, you feel like prey right now.

You shriek as you round a bend and slam straight into his chest plate like those cheesy horror holos.

Well, that didn't last long.

It's his profession, what were you expecting? A fair fight?

To your surprise, he stumbles back too, not expecting the blow from you either, and you continue past him, air rushing through the modulator. He grabs the clothes along your bicep, but you already have too much momentum, and the grip is lost instantly. Triumph surges through your veins, and you run faster.

Holy bantha dung, you just escaped the clutches of an infamous bounty hunter.

You're wet.

With painfully few options and the river at your side, you scramble up the branches of the nearest tree, the bark scrapping your palms as you scoot upwards. Animal instincts for flight kicking in. Climb Climb Climb. Escape.

Another scream parts your lips as his hand grabs your boot.

Escape.

With light kicks that assist in your ascent up the tree, you sacrifice the boot for the greater good.

You are nimble and flexible. He is strong and sturdy.

Mando can't climb trees.

With a growl, he throws the footwear back at you. It ironically hits your now cold sock-covered foot.

Your panicked scramble successfully led you just out of his grasp. But he stood at the base of the tree, like a wolf; he was willing to wait till his prey became desperate enough for food or water and come down into his clutches. He was going to starve you out. You gush, then sigh, another pair of panties ruined.

"Joey," his voice is calm, the calmest you have ever heard, "come down now."

He paces at the base of the tree.

"Eight whole days Mando," you whine, biting your bottom lip for extra impact.

"The bounty—"he stops his excuses immediately as you sit down on the sturdy branch - letting your legs dangle off the sides with your feet just out of his reach if he jumps.

He had a jetpack. You both know that would be cheating.

You spread your legs obscenely wide, so he could see from below, then drop your hand to relieve your growing needs from the outside of your clothing.

To your utter delight, he growls again. Maker, with the modulator, even his voice fits the part.

Only a few spirals in, your leg hits something closer to the base of the tree. You think it is a vine, but Batuu doesn't really have that kind of vegetation.

You squeal: it's that rope those kids were swinging on earlier!

"Joey! Don't even think abou—"

Too late.

You had a death grip around the rope and jumped. The slack looped around the tree ends abruptly mid-decent and sends you swinging over the creek below.

You look down at the swirling water. It was probably cold… you wanted sex, not a bath.

The rope leads you well onto the other side of the creek, but before you have the reaction to jump off—it begins to swing back towards Mando's waiting arms.

In horror, you let go as is without looking down to double-check. One leg hits land. The other hits water. You yelp as the cold licks all the way up to your knee. But you are already scrambling to shore.

You risk a glance back, and the Mandalorian is already running from view - trying to find a way to cross that did not involve getting soaked.

About five excruciating minutes pass. After the initial run away from the creek, you slowed to hear your surroundings. There was just the distant creek babbling and birds chirping - no Mando.

With slight confidence you were not being directly followed, you stepped out into a clearing, wanting a break from the sticks and rocks constantly assaulting your (now ripped) sock. The marketplace is visible down the sloping hill, but it was aways away: about the size of your thumb held out in front of you.

You take another tentative step forward, then another. The ground was softer here; there were no trees to disrupt the soil, which was good for your foot and bad for cover. There were also fewer rocks, with only one large stone pillar placed off center in the clearing. It was also noticeably muddier.

Birds from a tree behind you let out an alarming chirp, and the group flew away. You stop, searching your surroundings once again—still nothing.

But you didn't need to see proof. The winds had changed; you felt the flutter in your stomach—you were being watched.

You stumble back in alarm. Your chaser took notice and barreled from the shadows, but there were no trees close enough this time. The chase was as good as over. But Maker, you could still try.

Your heart thundered like a drum against your ribs: feet flying faster than they may have ever before, adrenaline roaring. But it wasn't good enough. Mando caught you in seconds, gaining too much ground too quickly— your attempt was laughable. Then he is barreling into you, hooking an arm around your stomach and yanking you backward—knocking you both to the ground. He rolled under you, letting his armored back take the worst of your fall with a grunt, skidding you both to a stop.

You still lay there for a moment, useless with all the air vanished from your lungs. You try to struggle off of him, but the positioning makes it almost impossible with the strength of his arms fastened around your stomach (also not helping your air situation). So you stay pinned tight as you wrestle and writhe to lift against him in the grass.

"Trying to run away like a little bounty?" he snarls in your ear, "you want me to catch you, use you, and throw you in carbonite?"

"Just the second one," you manage to grit out, finally taking in a full ragged breath.

"Kriff," he spits.

He puts more pressure on his grip around you, trying to flip you both so that he has more leverage.

You release a strangled sound towards the clouds and push back against him. In your struggle, you feel a hardness against your ass that was most definitely not his armor. You grind back against it. He sucks in a burst of air and momentarily loosens his hold. Then, with a strangled cry, you are able to squirm from him and start crawling away, pulling at the grass to drag you forwards.

Before you could make your escape, he heaves over and wraps a hand around your ankle, pulling down the fabric of your pants. Your attempt to claw free shimmies your pants over the swell of your ass. You flounder, fine with losing your pants and your boot if he is the one paying for it. The fabric bunching at your thighs restricts your movement, and you can't claw forwards because of the grip on your ankle keeping your leg on the ground.

With pure brute strength, he pulls you back under him by your leg, sending you sliding backward in the mud. He clambers on top of you, limiting your odds of breaking free. You lean into a roll and actually manage to buckle his arm that was supporting his weight.

Mando falls perfectly right between your legs.

Finally, a different position at last!

Now is your chance to show him some skill. That you're more than something to merely drill into for the quickest high. The visor is inches from your nose, forearms planted on either side of your head. Your fight subdued for the moment. You strain to see beyond the tinted glass to no avail, and the proximity makes heat lick up the sides of your neck despite the cool dirt.

"Take me," you whisper sweetly in his ear.

Just as you start to wrap your legs around his waist, Mando sits half-up, gloves clamped to your hips and flips you around under him. Your knees barely have enough time to buckle as his hand secures itself on the back of your neck, putting light force until your face is pinned to the dirt—ass in the air.

Come on! Didn't this man want variety?!

It would be almost comical apart from the growing soreness in your neck each morning.

He yanks down your panties to join the rest of the bunched clothes at your knees. You feel a long, warm trail of slick leading to your ruined undergarment.

Maybe, you think for a moment, if you can get away from him one last time, you'll be able to change positions. Despite the pressure on your neck, you squirm your bare ass forwards, hands clawing uselessly at the grass.

Mando follows forwards with your movements easily, and you hear a zipper. With one last failed lunge forwards, you feel the head of him notch at your entrance and plunges six inches—with room to spare— deep inside of you, guided only by your built-up arousal.

"Joey," he asks surprisingly softly, "this -kirff- this still okay? I—"

You nod against his hand. You think he nods too behind you.

With the confirmation, he continues. His hips drag backward, cock following, before slamming fully back into you. The hand on your neck unintentionally becomes heavier, burying half your face in the dirt. You know your knees were not in any better shape. From what you could see, you both had absolutely desecrated the surrounding grass. Honestly, you never realized you could relate to trampled grass before. You were so exhausted from running and then wrestling that you didn't have the energy during sex. You gladly took what he was giving you, at his speed, gasping or whining softly with each hard measured thrust as he filled you again and again.

In your haze, you remembered comparing him to the predacious hunter. Which, you were now experiencing the full effect of - mating like animals in the dirt. Though you didn't think this would end up with you in carbonite, you pocketed the realization he, too, is enjoying you being his bounty.

The realization makes you, somehow, even wetter. He notices too, grumbling a quick something like, "feels s'good Joey," before picking up the rhythm and returning to your usual (almost) silence.

He locks both hands to your hips, hauling you towards him with more strength than before. You whimper and sprawl your hands forward. He was pinning you. Pummeling into you. It was heaven and hell. It didn't matter how much grass your useless arms uprooted from the dirt— you were being claimed so thoroughly.

You hit your high, back arching against him as he continues the pace through your soft noises.

He follows soon after, collapsing on top of you, gasping for breath in your ear as his helmet rested on your shoulder.

Mando double taps the band on your arm, and the light turns green.

"Thank you." But the murmur is half lost in the dirt.

He pulls you up, and your head swims slightly, eyes adjusting to the scene of the partially crushed field around you and the incoming light you had missed while being pressed into the dirt by a Mandalorian. You stretch and crack your back and neck. Maker, you are completely covered in dirt. Both of your knees are caked with mud, but you bare most of the dirt: hands and arms, shins, breasts, and half your face. Even your hair was probably completely disheveled. You look like someone who just got their brains pounded out… and it was amazing.

The Mandalorian stood to full length behind you, each time taller than you remembered. Yeah, you really did not have much of a chance trying to wrestle him. He held out a gloved hand, and you took it, standing with unsteady legs. Your panties were soaked and cold putting back on; you felt dirty, disgusting, and numb from bliss.

"Let's head back." His voice was trimmed, professional. Just like he had been before he left. Cold.

That's when you remember.

"I need to let this farmer know I won't be able to help him anymore, I shouldn't be gone for more than a few extra minutes if that's okay."

You didn't realize Mando would take those words completely differently.

"You should see his kid," you continue too out of it to be aware of his body language, "he is this tall." You lower your hand to below your waist as a measurement. "The cutest little thing. I was helping him chase a frog."

This time you do notice Mando stiffens. Undoubtedly, even if you could not read his visor. But you couldn't place what you had done.

He snaps the harshest he has spoken to you, interrupting, "If you aren't back in time, I'm leaving you behind."

You flinch.

He turns on his heel and leaves in the direction you think his ship is.

—-

Tears threaten the corners of your eyes.

You can't lose this job. You can't lose this job. You can't mess up. If Mazey doesn't get her scholarship, you will be right back where you started. The lights will go out again. You can’t lose this job. What did you do wrong? You can't afford to mess up.

It plays like an anthem in your head, ringing over and over again.

You're stiff, sore, and covered in mud by the time you stumble onto the farm. They spot you immediately. He was working on some crops while the kid was sitting, playing, or keeping watch for you next to him. The kid excitedly claps his hands when he spots you and pokes his father. He turns around, and waves but his smile falters as you approach.

"Hey," he murmurs, "are you okay?"

"Yes," you lie, "I uh. Fell."

On half your face? Was left unspoken.

He doesn't seem to fully believe you, but you continue anyway. You explained your time on Batuu was coming to an end. And that it was nice getting to know him and his son. You will miss them.

He hands you a small set of watercolors and a single frayed brush he had found as a thank you. You enjoyed helping; it was fun. Inspiration wasn't striking just yet, you still felt… worried. But you thanked him for his kindness, and maybe one day your paths will cross again.

"May the spires keep you." You exchange the Batuu farewell.

——

The ship was still there by the time you returned.

You stumble up the ramp and into the hold, sad and confused.

It closes behind you as soon as you're in. The ship takes off and leaves Batuu without a single word from Mando.

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Next Chapter

[onecupofskim]

Our experiences in the Plural community over the years

This post will contain brief mentions innapropriate relationships between adults and minors, and trauma denial. Please continue at your own risk.

Around the age of 12-14, we were very active on Kik. There we were engaged with a handful of witchcraft groups, one of which we had a partner by the name of Riley. Riley was 19.

Riley began teaching us about Tulpamancy. They said it was a way to not be so lonely in your own head. As a young child who had no friends in school, this sounded great.

They linked us to a couple of tumblr posts and a google doc and we went to work.

Oh. Right. Nothing happened. Because you can't force a headmate into existance.

Alright. Well if that didn't work, maybe theres something else!

Oh, Spirit bonding! That sounds like it'll work.

So we meditated. Oh, theres someone here! His name is Raphael. Here, lets put him in this ring and when we wear it, he'll be with us. (I'm facepalming just writing this.)

Except. He was always there. Huh. Weird.

Oh, we made a soul bond with a dragon named Mephisto! Kinda weird that I cant find any information about her existence online...

Huh.. none of this is really adding up.

When we were in our freshman year of highschool we learned about kinning.

We became invested. We kinned a demon character named Greyson. Greyson lived in our head and could change his appearance at will-- Wait what do you mean thats not what kinning is?

Later on we found a game that we really liked at the time, despite its dark themes. We "kinned" the main antagonist. When we would get stressed or anxious he would "shift" out and take over. That's normal right?

Back to the tulpamancy again. Someome had reccomended a discord server regarding tulpas. Kinda weird how everyone was saying Sal wasnt a tulpa even though he lives in our head... huh. Weird.

Okay well. Maybe.. Maybe we are a system. We began learning about systems and systemhood around the age of 16-17. We had never heard of DID or even MPD before.

The more research we did, the more we realized that these weren't kins or tulpas or anything else. They were alters.

They were pieces of our childself broken to bits due to childhood trauma.

Woah.

That would explain. A lot.

We were still apart of the kin community, after finally learning what it really was. We had met an individual who's name I cannot recall. We'll call him Shadow for now.

Shadow was an interesting individual.

We spoke with him frequently about our suspisions of being a system. However he doubted us.

He was in his freshman year of college, with goals to persue becoming a therapist. He was in the middle of a Psych 101 class.

He told us about endogenic systems.

He claimed we didn't have nearly enough trauma to warrent a system, and that instead we were a natural system. One that forms because youre lonely, or need someone.

We were confused... Was what we went through growing up not enough..? Maybe hes right. Yeah people out there have it worse. Those are all parts of any normal childhood! (Spoiler alert. They aren't.)

We began engaging with the endogenic community and were suprised by how much hate they recieved. We engaged with the community briefly, but something didn't seem right.

We spoke with a close friend we had known for years at this point. She had actually graduated with a degree in psychology. We spoke to her about our experiences and she began to tell us more about DID. And looking back on it now, what she told us was all truthful information. Thank you Ali, you're a lifesaver.

We stopped engaging with endos. We found evidence against them. We learned and grew.

We had a few more.. interesting. Experiences with an ex partner but. Thats another post for another time.

Long story short, our experiences with the plural community led us astray from actually acknowledging and accepting the fact we were traumatized. We ended up getting support for our trauma much later than we could have.

This is why we are anti endo. This is why we are anti tulpa. A constant spread of misinformation led us to falling off our path to healing when we needed it most.

[writing-in-april]

The Five Stages of Grief

Stage five: Acceptance (5/5)

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Thanks to @zhuzhubii who helped me so much with this series and made this gif for me 🥰

Summary: Spencer going through each of the stages of grief after the death of the reader. Stage five is acceptance.

A/N: Can’t believe my first series on here is done!!! I’m not gonna lie you guys this chapter is super emotional for me- I no joke cried the whole time while writing it and while rereading to edit. I basically have been going through the same thing recently with my Nana. This chapter is very close to my heart and is definitely the most personal chapter for me. The whole series is actually heavily inspired by season 3 episode 19 -one of my favorite episodes of criminal minds- and I also used elements from season 3 episode 15. This also kinda helps explain a lot of my writing choices throughout the whole series if you’re curious. I did my first real attempt at foreshadowing in this series, I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you for all the love and support on this series- with a special thanks to @spencerreidsmiles and @andiebeaword -you all have been so lovely and amazing.

Warnings (All warnings for the whole series are on series Masterlist): Sad Spencer, References to past drug use, References to past suicidal behaviors, Small panic attack, Hopeful Spencer, Unreliable narrator (much less so in this chapter)

Main Masterlist | The 5 Stages Masterlist Word Count: 3.5k (longest chapter)

It’s been a year; One full year since they had died in my arms. One full year since they had been shot so cruelly by a heartless unsub in an alley. One full year since I had been graced with their presence and the sound of their voice.

The elements of my emotions were extremely complex according to my therapist, and surprisingly I found myself starting to feel the benefits with them more every time I went to an individual session or a group session. It was hard for me to realize that I would have to learn to accept my situation.

It was hard to learn how to understand my own emotions when I had been so willing to shut them out, to try and convince myself that they didn’t exist.

I had begun to learn that I carried around the water that felt like I could drown in, the fire that burned so hot that anyone near it would get burned, the earth that I had wished would bury me with the pebbles I had chosen to cope with, and even the polluted air of my sadness around with me everyday. But, now I somewhat accepted the fact that they would always be with me, or at least I was trying to.

I had to learn to accept.

Even if it hurt I had to learn to at least try.

The next goal I had been given by the therapist was the most daunting of my tasks yet in my opinion. Trying to convince myself to open the boxes in the corner of the bedroom I had once shared with Y/N was harder than trying to get clean. The thought that had propelled me forward into getting clean was that I felt as though I would be disrespecting Y/N by not staying clean. They had been the reason all those years ago that I had spilled the clear liquid down the toilet and I needed to do it again, if only for them.

The boxes were something that were easier to ignore. I could ignore them by turning my back to the stack of boxes, choosing instead to stare at the painted walls of my apartment instead. There was no reason for me to stop ignoring the boxes, no one was trying to pressure me to open them besides my therapist. Everyone else in my life had no expectations for me to open them at any time, if ever, including Y/N’s family.

But, it had begun to feel like maybe I could try to attempt to open the boxes. I wasn’t sure what had finally prompted my brain into thinking that perhaps it would be a good thing to stop ignoring it. I stopped trying to understand why my mind works the way it does long ago, I had poured enough time into my life thinking about that.

I had felt this overwhelming urge to be able to look back at things that once belonged to them with some semblance of peace. I wanted to enjoy the memories we had together once more. I was tired of letting the memories get soiled by the unsub, I deserved to still think back on the one that I loved with a smile. I deserved to be able to preserve their memories with happiness and not let them sour with sadness. I wouldn’t let the unsub be able to kill something else while he was behind bars, my memories.

I was ready.

I was ready to open those boxes.

I was ready to at least try.

I was ready to try and look back at the memories.

I wasn’t going to let their memory die too.

My first attempt to open the boxes in the corner of my bedroom consisted of me staring for two hours at the stacks. I knew that I at least wanted to try to attempt to open a box, even if it was the smallest of the bunch.

That day I had gotten the lid of one of the boxes open. That was as much as I could handle emotionally in that moment. There was a small part of myself that wanted to push myself to look inside the box, but I couldn’t do it that night. That night I laid down on the bed, again facing the wall, unwilling to look at the boxes. I knew if I did I’d feel as if I had failed and I had to keep trying to convince myself that small progress was still progress.

I tried again despite the swirling anxiety in the hole in my chest.

I was still willing because I still wanted to have my memories unsullied by sadness.

I still knew that I deserved that despite my volatile elemental emotions threatening to push me into another toxic loop.

The next time I tried to look in the box I had previously opened just a little I immediately got choked, recognizing the contents sat at the top surrounded by other smaller insignificant items. I only managed to grab one of their old tchotchkes that used to sit on their desk in the bullpen. It was insignificant enough of an item that it didn’t make me fall into an endless loop of my emotions. I clutched it all night while I tried to sleep, though I still faced away from the boxes.

I hadn’t given up yet I still wanted to try, if only for them.

I would still try for them, even if I didn’t succeed, I still felt better for trying.

It had taken me awhile to muster up the courage to look at the box again, even though I still wanted to try I was scared that the contents would be too much for my fragile psyche. What I had gotten a glimpse of at the top of the box was something that used to be important for Y/N.

The next time I tried to look I successfully managed to pick up the item that had triggered the painful memory in my mind. It was ironically, it was another box.

The box wasn’t something that was explicitly tied to memories that we shared together. I knew it to be a music box from their childhood, given to them by someone that had meant so much to them. Out of curiosity I cranked the knob on the side and slowly opened the lid, wondering if I could handle the sounds of a song that I had often heard every time they had opened it to listen to the twinkle of the box they cherished.

As soon as the beginning notes of Swan Lake floated into the air I slammed to top shut, unwilling to open up the box of my emotions all the way just yet. I knew I couldn’t get rid of it, it was too important of an artifact in Y/N’s life. Though I knew that this wasn’t something I could keep to myself, this belonged to Y/N’s family. I clutched the box for a second in my arms when I came to the realization that the trinket should be with someone else as if it would be cruelly ripped from my arms right then and there. I felt a little fire being stoked in my belly at the thought of people taking it from me, even though there was no one there in my lonely apartment with me.

I started a breathing exercise that my therapist had told me to use when I felt like this. No matter how much it pained me to admit it, it did help immensely in snuffing out the emotions when I could feel them begin to spiral out of control.

I couldn’t let myself fall into an endless loop of volatile emotions again. I had worked hard to get clean after I had started to write my amends. It had been a hard uphill battle even after I had written down my amends, my grief hadn’t magically gone away that day. Getting clean had been much harder without my rock and the person who had helped me get clean the first time around. I wouldn’t disrespect their memory by going back to dilaudid again.

Once the initial fear began to fade and my breathing had grown steady I forced myself to loosen my grip on the music box. I then carefully set it down in a place that would be suitable enough for a stack of things I’d pass off to other people that had been important to them. I hoped I’d soon be ready to make a donation pile despite that I despised the mere thought of giving something away that belonged to them to a mere stranger.

It was already too much for today, I could only bear looking at the one item. I didn't know how I’d be able to handle it if the box was filled with more trinkets that were important to them. I did however find myself thinking when I laid down on my bed for the night after a hot shower to relax my mind. I found my mind thinking about the trinkets they’d had an affinity for collecting. It still brought tears to my eyes to think about giving away their stuff, even if it was to people who also mattered in their life. But, I found myself thinking about their old cute little trinkets without as much pain, though it was definitely still there.

Maybe tomorrow when I try, I’d do better.

The small box that I had begun to unpack over a series of days didn’t hold anything else seemingly important to Y/N’s life. Besides the music box I had found prior, the small box was only filled with unimportant trinkets that thankfully didn’t spark much meaning in my mind. It was obvious that when the team had initially helped me to put their stuff away until I was ready that things had been put away in a slight haste. They must’ve done it so quickly as a way to try and help me. The animosity that I had held towards my team for the last year because of Y/N’s death had been slowly melting away over time. I still wasn’t as friendly as I had been before, but I knew my frigid nature after the event hadn’t been justified. I knew now that they had only my best interests at heart, even if they didn’t always pinpoint what they were correctly. I had even begun to regain some of my desk duties once I had gotten clean. It had felt good to feel somewhat normal even though the sight of their desk directly across from mine and their still empty round table chair still made my heart pang with grief.

I had even begun texting them more frequently again, though I was still aversive to text, so I guess it still wasn’t that often. Some things really do never change despite the fact that my life had turned on its head in the past year. I had even begun to write letters to my mom again.

I knew I was lucky to still have people by my side, even if it wasn’t the one I knew deep down I still wanted with me.

I thought I could have at least done the box without crying anymore.

That was until I found something at the bottom of the box that made the dam holding my memories back in my mind break to flood my mind. The book would probably seem inconsequential compared to the rest of the items that I knew sat in the other boxes. Most people would assume after just looking at the surface level what items of Y/N’s meant most to me, the ones I wanted to keep. The black paper back was well worn around the edges, almost like if I read it too frequently and I wasn’t too careful that the spine would break. I ran my fingers up and down the battered book as I began to willingly reminisce. To other people the book would’ve looked beaten already beyond repair, maybe as if it had not been loved enough, battered perhaps because of neglect.

But, just like me I knew that Y/N had loved the book more than most people would be willing to.

I knew that I wanted to keep this book, no matter how painful I knew their contents would be for me. I hoped that I’d be able to read it so much that I’d be afraid for the binding of the book, just to be able to feel close to them again. Though I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to dig up this particular memory, it might still be too painful for me.

I remember they had bought this book for us after I had connected with a grieving father on a case. He had specifically quoted a poem to me that stuck with me for weeks after. Once I had told them of the excerpt quoted to me they had immediately grabbed a copy of where it had originated from, a long Wordsworth poem. The book “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” became their favorite quickly, in fact it used to take residence in the top drawer of their nightstand. They had often loved to read me their favorite excerpts at night just before bed when my eyes couldn’t stand to focus on the pages anymore.

When I opened the well worn book it flipped open to where they had set their bookmark last, I recognized the excerpt immediately. My breath got caught up in my throat when the words danced around in my vision. I wasn’t sure if I could face this specific excerpt quite yet, or even be able to read any part of the poem. The book held so many memories of them. This specific poem held so much meaning to the both of us.

However, there was something in me that wanted to try. I wanted to be able to read the poem again and remember the memories we shared fondly. I wanted to be able to enjoy my memories with them. I had come to realize over the past year that their memory deserved to be nurtured with fondness not overwhelmed with sadness.

So, I decided to try.

The memory’s attached to the excerpt immediately began flooding back even as soon as I read the beginning words. The bookmark had landed on the page that had been quoted to me by the grieving father, the words holding even more meaning in my life now than ever before.

“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my-“

The tears in my eyes blurred my vision, so much so that I had to stop reading for a moment to wipe my eyes. I didn’t know if I wanted to continue, just those first few lines were already weighing heavily on my mind. I was already focusing on the radiance that had left my life forever. A radiance that was once so bright, but was now snuffed out, forever taken from my sight. My sorrow was creeping in with small little waves in my mind, I just had to hope that it wouldn't drown me. I didn’t want to get stuck on an endless loop of emotions again, I had just gotten fully clean a little while ago.

Even though I was feeling intensely emotional over just the first few words I wanted to keep trying. I wanted to read this poem and smile. I wanted to be able to look back at our memories with love, to take back what had been polluted by the acts of a heinous man. Once I had somewhat collected myself and my thoughts I began to read again from the beginning of the excerpt-

“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower,”

My entire being could not help but ache as I read the words, still aching for the presence of the one who had been forever taken from my sight. When I reached that part that I remembered asking the grieving man about all those years ago, the words held an even deeper meaning to me now than I ever thought possible. There was nothing I could do to bring back the hour where I was still in my lover’s embrace. I wanted to be back in the moments of splendour in the grass and glory in the flower, I knew that soon I’d have to fully accept that it wasn’t possible.

Again I had to wipe tears from my eyes before continuing to read the stanza. This time a few tears dribbling down onto the pages, marking them with my sadness forever no matter if it dried into the parchment or not. I continued to read the page despite the saltwater that continued to drip down my face,

“We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind”

I felt a small watery smile creep onto my face, it had been so long since I had remembered to smile with sincerity. I was thinking about some of the times they had read this to me as I tried to drift off into a most likely restless sleep. Though I had always slept better when they read to me. At the time the words hadn’t meant as much to me as they did now, I now had a permanent connection to the feeling of grief that would never be erased. For the first time in a long time thinking about them didn’t hurt as much for a moment, I actually smiled, even though it was rather watery. No matter how small or sad the smile was, I was still smiling. And, I knew in that moment that Y/N would’ve been proud of me.

I pondered on the stanza’s meaning in a deeper way than I had done before. The things stated in the stanza about how I would gain strength from this situation made me contemplate what Y/N would’ve wanted me to do after their death. They wouldn’t want me to give up as I had done before, they had always wanted the best for me. They would want me to gain strength from the situation.

They would want me to grow from the pain that sat in my chest.

They would want me to move on, to accept.

I didn’t know if I’d ever find someone else that I’d ever love as much as I loved them. I didn’t really ever want to, I had found my true love already. Maybe one day I’d find someone to fall in love with again and if I did I knew they would be happy that I was able to move on with someone else. Even if I ever did move on with someone else there’d always be a part of my heart that belonged to Y/N. For now I was ready to move on in a different way. I was ready to live my life without them, by myself.

The trauma of losing them would always weigh heavily on my soul, I’d carry that with me until I rejoined them in the earth. But, I was now ready to keep living, if only for them. I felt less guilty now since I had grown to realize that they’d want me to try and live the rest of my life as fully as I could. They’d want me to try and find happiness. I didn’t know if I would ever truly find it again, whether it was on my own or with someone else.

They may have been forever taken from my sight, but I found comfort in the fact that the radiance they brought into my life would always reside in me. Instead of letting the deep hole in my chest gape until the hour of my death, I’d let it fill with the radiance of their memory.

I was ready to try.

I was ready to try even if I knew the water that felt like I could drown in, the fire that burned so hot that anyone near it would get burned, the earth that I had wished would bury me with the pebbles I had chosen to cope with, and even the polluted air of my sadness around with me everyday would sometimes take ahold of me again no matter how hard I tried.

I’d always carry those emotions with me, but I knew I was ready.

“Nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.”

I knew I was ready because their memory would always be with me to give me strength and to guide me. They’d always be there to help me try to live the rest of my life peacefully.

When I slept that night I faced the boxes while clutching the book to my chest.

Even though it still would always hurt on some level, I was ready to live in a reality where I could accept.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

5 stages of grief:

@joonie-centric @tatesimper @half-blood-dork @mcntsee @illuxions-x @rainsong01 @nomajdetective @loveheathens @day-n-night-dreamer @reidbuck