#the therapy session and that reflection shot

[piganatur]

THE EIGHTH SENSE EP 3

Honestly, I was a little afraid because the first two episodes blew me away so much that it felt almost ridiculous. I so wanted this to continue, and when I anticipate something to this extent the dread of it maybe falling flat, of it refuting me and my anticipation is sky high. My pulse legit rose before clicking on ep3 that’s how jittery and insane this show makes me. But I worried for nothing, the creators of this show clearly know what they want and what they are doing. Ep 3&4... all I can say is: 👏👏👏 solid follow-up

Episode 3 (and a part of ep4) is all about parallels and the contrast between these parallels: 1, like the entirety of whatever happened between Jaewon & Jihyun in ep2 vs. walking the same steps, doing those same motions but now doing it alone? Brilliant! Taking care of others vs. not taking care of them (so they have to take care of themselves) and the reason for doing all of that...it’s all about perspective.

2, another parallel is the dynamic of Jaewon/Yoonwon vs. Jihyun/Aeri Jaewon and Yoonwon are what Jihyun and Aeri could be in the future (down to the detail of one of them thinking the other liked them bc they acted so friendly, or that they didn’t like the other but found a true ally) I'm a friendship maniac I love it more than anything. Now I want to make a separate post all about the importance of friendship for Jaewon and Jihyun and their character arcs

3, Joonpyo aka the heavenly hand of fate Joonpyo being obedient for once and not saying a thing just like Jihyun asked him to when meeting Aeri vs. Joonpyo introducing himself and chatting up Jaewon in the middle of the cafeteria without anyone asking him to... both of those times, at that moment, what Joonpyo did was the opposite of what Jihyun wanted (and what he felt he’d be saved by) yet as we can see in ep4 both of those times his roommate (enter Jihyun’s voice *and menace of a childhood friend*) actually helped Jihyun

4, the evolution of Jihyun and Jaewon’s interpersonal relationships Jihyun collects people after careful deliberation or is it the other way and others are the ones collecting him? broadening his circle (a place of support and care) is, in fact, in parallel with Jaewon slowly slipping out of others’ circles whilst tightening his own. They are both treading towards the same ideal but while Jaewon has to cut ppl out Jihyun has to let ppl in to get to that place where they are seen and valued for who they are

5, the cherry on top was the closing sequence. I’m in love with the visual, the music score, all the details building up, the parallel lines and symmetry in every single shot, seemingly playing on different sides and directions but colliding in the most breathtaking and intense harmony to complete all the unsaid things in a nonverbal way. But it is a quietness that screams

[ametrictonofaudacity]

yo you do platonic yanderes???? aroace yandere creator real??? love this love this sm can you do yandere platonic joker??? for like an artist reader??? maybe reader is rly nihilistic or rly funny or maybe they encountered once and he got fixated and wants to be buddies???

Absolutely!! Also thank you so much for the ask.

Trigger warning for: murder, violence, references to torture, manipulation, all around general bad times. This is, after all, the Joker, so this post will be more intense than the majority of mine will tend to be, I think. Also the use of the pet name Baby, but it’s strictly platonic.

It starts, as all terrible things do, at your college campus.

You were being held hostage. Which, while you were familiar enough with hostage taking in general, no one in Gotham wasn’t, you yourself had never been taken hostage before. You were also running on limited sleep, two redbulls, and the last dregs of your will to live.

So when the Joker points his gun at you and threatens to kill you in his strange, maniacal way, you throw your head back and groan, exhausted and frustrated and pissed. You tell him you wish he would, if it got you out of your finals. Something in his eyes light up, the acid green reflecting the light in an eerie way, and suddenly the gun is not aimed at your face but your leg, and he squeezes the trigger.

The last thing you remember seeing as you clutch your leg is the same hungry expression Joker always watched Batman with.

When you get out of the hospital, you have to attend therapy. You don’t have either the money or the patience, and leave after three sessions. The therapist was nice enough, but too focused on your lack of self-preservation and less focused on you being shot by the Joker. You do keep some habits, though.

You draw. You draw and draw as much as you can while you heal, and somehow, the Joker leaks into all of your works. A pair of scuffed up dress shoes on a menacing figure, a set of gleaming green eyes. Joker was haunting you, haunting your work, and you were fucking sick of it.

You don’t publish any of those pieces. You throw them in the trash, frustrated and angry, and crash on your couch, curling up to get some sleep. You ignore the rustling in your trash, positive it’s some raccoon or rat or some other vermin of Gotham’s street.

The Joker shows up again. He holds everyone in your job hostage, holds you hostage, and you are treat to the actively terrifying experience of having the Joker’s attention on you, solely on you. He’s not talking about Batman, or his plans, but is instead asking you questions with gleaming eyes and a gun nudging at your head. You answer all his questions as calmly as you can, even cracking a few dry jokes, and it does nothing to make the gleam leave his eyes but it keeps him from looking at the other hostages and you have to settle for that.

Batman saves you. And when Joker is carted away in cuffs, laughing, he calls your name, not the Bats.

He breaks out again. You know this because a dark shadow appears on your window, nearly every night, keeping watch. Sometime the shadows are smaller, sometimes they’re huge, and sometimes they watch with pitying eyes and a scarred face. You never speak to them, they never speak to you. You don’t mind your silent watchers.

Eventually, they leave, and you wake up in the middle of the night to rustling in your kitchen.

“What in the hell…?” You trail off, staring at the Clown Prince of Crime, who’s leaning against the counter with his jacket sling over his shoulder and a remarkably casual stance.

“You have absolutely nothing in your fridge, come onnnn.” He complains, before kicking your fridge shut. You wince. Your furniture could not withstand that sort of battering.

“Hey, don’t kick my fridge, I’ll lose my security deposit. You want me to make you something, after you broke into my apartment?” Your question is sarcastic, but it makes Joker grin, broad and victorious.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind…” He teases, and you feel a shudder roll through your body. You don’t know if he sees it.

“Yeah sure, hold on. Hope you don’t mind ramen, I’ve got some instant packs I wanted to try.” Ramen was one of the few things you actually spent money on, getting the nice frozen packs with frozen broth and noodles.

“Baby, if you’ve ever eaten from the cafeteria in Arkham, you can eat anything.” Joker laughs, and the high pitched sound grates against your ears. You want to cover them. You don’t. You don’t know if he was arm, but judging by the way his shirt is pulled over his waist band, he was.

“Try eating from Gotham Community College’s cafeteria. It’s terrible.” You remark, putting both bowls in the microwave. Technically you weren’t supposed to, but there was so much wrong with this situation you figured you microwave could do you a favor and not explode this one time. Although with how the universe had been treating you, there was no guarantee.

“Eugh. College. Waste of time, if you ask me. Wasting time to learn to waste time, learning nothing at all! Experience is the best teacher in my opinion! Like those paintings!”

“Paintings?” You question, hissing when you almost burn your hand on the bowl. Joker snickers.

“Your paintings, baby! The ones you tossed, although I don’t know why ya did, I was so flattered being your muse.” He is suddenly RIGHT behind you, and you jerk, spilling hot broth on your hands and yelping. The scar on your leg aches with him so close.

You set down both bowls, hear him snicker.

“Are you telling me you’ve been going through my trash in case I tossed out a painting?” You blurt, turning towards him. He’s watching you, with those eerie eyes, and you know they’re going to fill your drawing pad and sketchbook tonight, insane and wide and terrifying.

“Well not me, not always! I was in Arkham for a bit, ya know, after the last time we got to see each other.” He drawls, finally leaning back, examining his nails. “I saw what you were doing there, ya know.”

“What?”

“Oh come onn. Batsy does the same thing. He doesn’t like my attention on anyone else, so he keeps me occupied. He’s obsessed with me.”

Your brain nearly stalls, because holy shit. You had known Joker was crazy with a capitol C, but you had not expected him to accuse Batman, of all people, of being obsessed with him. That was a level of so far gone it made your stomach turn.

“So do you have anymore paintings? I like the ones I got, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes the trash ruins them.” Joker asks, hopping up on your counter and grabbing his bowl. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the heat.

“Uh, yeah, let me go get it.” You mutter, stunned. You still hadn’t recovered from the comment about Batman, the comment about you.

You manage to find it. You pass it over to Joker, hoping nothing in it gets you killed. He begins flipping through it eagerly, oohing and ahhing like a small child.

The rustle of pages stops, and you look up. Joker is looking at the pages with an absolutely hungry expression, eyes wide with a splitting grin on his face.

Your stomach turns. You slide your drawer open, silently, and grasp the handle of a knife, tucking it against the back of your thigh.

“Whatcha looking at?” You ask, trying not to sound too careful, instead passingly curious. You aren’t sure you succeed.

His eyes snap to you, and with a grin, he flips the sketchbook over, showing you.

It’s a sketch of you, and so many, many sketches of Joker’s eyes, all acid green and wide and maniacal. You don’t remember making it. But it makes your stomach churn and your heart race.

“Huh. Forgot I drew that.” You remark, brushing your hair back, keeping the knife hidden.

“Baby, come onn! We don’t have to dance around this anymore, ya know?” He complains, shoving the sketchbook into your hands. “No more of this pining from afar, we can finally hang out and do something fun.”

His vioce drops at fun, into something menacing, and you don’t stop, or think. You just act.

The knife goes slicing toward his face, ready to carve a new scar into it. He dips back, shrieking laughter escaping, and there’s a knife in his hand now, a gleaming silver blade that could bleed you dry, unlike the vegetable knife in your hand. He lunged forward, cackling.

“Oh come on! I know you’re not ready yet, but we’ll have so much fun! Come on, we’ll be buddies, it’ll be great!”

You’re dodging back from streaks of silver, which slash through the air, and then he dips low.

Buried his knife in the same place he shot you, in the thick scar tissue of your thigh.

You scream, the sound shrill and pained, and he shoves you to the ground, gloved hands covering your mouth.

“Shh!!! You can’t get Batsy running yet!!” He laughs, and you thrash against him, hot blood running down your thigh, fingers scrambling against his deceptively thin figure. “At least not until you’re like me.”

He presses a clothe against your mouth, and the world begins to flicker.

The last thing you see before passing out is acid green eyes.

[dino-fart]

The Bargain | Chapter 1: Routine

Pairing: Namor x Female Reader

Genre: Action, Adventure, Romance

Summary: To say you had a complicated relationship history was an understatement. Your ex was well...Not of this world? Yet he seemed to always find his way to you. One day he shows up with his new girlfriend asking for your help. You promise to assist if he never shows his face again. What is it he needs you for? And what are you all going to find when deep diving into the Atlantic Ocean?

Summary | Preview | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 (End) | Sequel

I love you but my kingdom needs me...

I’m sorry...I choose...

No! Stop! I’ve made my decision!

Leave her to die!

You shot up from the bed and panted heavily. You wiped the sweat off of your head and reached over for your phone. 

3:00 am...

You sighed and set your phone down. You got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom. Your eyes looked up at the reflection of you. Your hair was a mess, the bags under your eyes, and sweat dripped from your head. You looked sick. You turned on the cold water and washed your face. 

The person that looked back at you in the mirror wasn’t the person you knew a few months ago. Everything started when you met him...You rubbed your eyes and went back to bed, maybe you could fall back asleep? Or maybe you were just kidding yourself and you would lie awake with night terrors as you have been. 

After an hour of lying there, you got up and slipped on a jacket over your tank top and changed from shorts to sweatpants. You walked into your home library and sat at the desk, opening your laptop and continuing your research. The sun’s rays shined through the curtains and you grumbled. You picked your head up from the laptop keyboard and grabbed your phone.

8:00 am...

Time to get up and go. Well, at least you were able to go back to sleep, even if it was for a little bit. You went to your bedroom and put on a collared long-sleeved blue blouse, black slacks, and black ballet flats. You tied your hair in a bun and grabbed your purse. Being the owner of a museum your schedule was flexible. 

This means you would find yourself in your therapy appointments every morning at 9:00 am sharp. You sat on the armchair across from your therapist there with your legs crossed and impatiently tapping your foot on the ground. 

“Did you want to talk today?” Your therapist asked. 

“What’s there to talk about?” 

“Your night terrors...Are they getting better? Are you able to sleep without falling asleep at the laptop?” 

“Nope.” 

“I want...Delve into what happened to you...What started all this? You told me when we first met that your ex tried to drown you?” 

“His side piece did.” 

“Right, but he was there, and...Didn’t help you?” 

“Yeah...” 

“That must’ve been horrible. I can understand your fear of water.” 

“I’m not afraid of water,” You quickly snapped at them, “I’m afraid of riptides...” 

Your therapist was quiet and observed your body language. “You know it’s okay to talk about it here. That’s why I’m here right? It’s what you pay me for. Why see a therapist if you don’t want to talk?” They asked gently. 

“I didn’t want to see one. My friend forced me to.” You corrected. 

“Your friend?” 

“...My aunt.” 

Your therapist nodded and closed their book. They gave you a sympathetic smile, a type of smile you hated. It was a smile you constantly got whenever your story was shared. 

“Don’t pity me...I made a stupid mistake that nearly got me killed.” You scoffed. 

“Everyone makes mistakes. When you’re in love, you make all kinds of mistakes. Sometimes you don’t realize it until you’ve left the person.” 

“Yeah well, guess I was stupidly in love.” 

“...Have you picked up a hobby? Besides spelunking in caves?” Your therapist said changing subjects.

“I started sketching...It’s just been landscapes to help me memorize when I go research.” You shrugged. 

“Good, that’s good! Maybe next session you can show me?” 

“Maybe.” You said cautiously. 

“Well that’s our time, see you tomorrow?” Your therapist stood up and offered their hand to you. 

You stood up and shook it, “Guess so.” You were escorted out of the office and headed back to your museum. 

The bustling city of Madison, Wisconsin was constantly backed up with traffic. You finally made it and walked into the museum. You made a beeline to your office upstairs and shut the door. 

A knock on the door made you jump and you turned to open it. “Hey boss, you forgot to say hello!” The older security guard smiled. 

You gave him a small smile and nodded, “I did, sorry about that.” 

“It’s okay boss, I know you’re getting back into the swing of things after your travels. Take it easy okay?” He smiled and gave you a goodbye wave. 

You waved goodbye and watched your door shut, “Unfortunately I don’t know what that means.” You sighed and walked over to your desk and began your work. 

Night came and you were now downstairs at the Mayan exhibit. The museum was closed and everyone left. You sat on a stool over the coin display case, polishing the coins and checking for any scratches. You adjusted your eyeglasses when you examined them. You weren’t worried about authenticity, you were the ones that uncovered them after all. 

You heard a knock on the door but ignored it, some teenagers were probably playing a trick, or someone scoping the place out to steal. You heard the knocking again and put your wireless earbuds in and turned on some music to block out the knocking. You continued to polish the coins and fixed the description on the name plates. You got to the final coin and polished it as you did with the others. The coin shined like new and you titled it away from you slightly. You froze when you saw the reflection of the coin of a man. You dropped the coin and looked up immediately. 

“Hello, my friend!” The man said cheerfully.

Author’s Note: So I only tagged the reblogs and replies because there are SOOO many of you who liked the summary and preview uwu, so continuing on you can either reblog or reply to be added or just keep an eye out for the fic under the ‘Namor x Reader’ tag! Thank you all for the support and love!

Dividers By: @firefly-graphics

Tagging: @clea-strange-is-the-way, @bontensbabygirl​, @deputy-videogamer, @anthonyedwinstark, @fangirlingbookworm1, @theyluvremi, @bbylime, @redcrayonsforwanda, @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame, @missbeverlyhills, @bluskyy30, @sonadowloverf-blog, @spctorstrnge, @justanotherfanhere, @britty443, @lilithskywalker, @tzurue, @lego0city123, @livingdeadgirl7, @bl6o6dy, @didneyworld13, @bookfrog247, @thicc101q​​

[sionnaach]

Trigger warnings for drug and alcohol use, temporary character death, slight mental health spiralling

chapter one

ao3

I warned you about stairs bro

--

“What the fuck?”

Nico is back in the bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror.

He was just hit by a car. Right? That definitely just happened. He should be dead, not standing in front of his bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection.

Not a mark on him, either. Not a drop of blood, or a bruise, or even a scuff of dirt. Exactly the same.

“What the fuck.” He repeats, quieter. Did he hallucinate the last, what, three hours?

There's a knock on the door.

Ignoring the glare from the girl outside - who he still doesn't know - as she slams the door shut behind her, he makes a beeline for the kitchen. Again Nico passes by people all wishing him happy birthday. He shrugs off their touches and ignores the shot thrust out before him.

Piper is still in the kitchen, behind the counter. She grins when she sees him, holding the lit joint up and singing; “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday-”

He cuts her off again. “Piper, what was in that joint?”

She blinks at him, looking from the joint in her hand and back to Nico, more than a little confused. “This one? It's just weed, dude. And you've not had any yet.”

“Are you absolutely sure there's nothing else in it?”

“Yes? I mean, it's from my regular dealer. You know, the one that Percy Jackson Himself recommended.” she frowns, clearly concerned. “What's wrong?”

“I got hit by a car and died.”

“That's not funny, what the fuck Nico.”

“No, I'm serious. I’ve already been through this party. I went to the shop and got hit by a car while crossing the road.”

Piper looks ready to book him into the next available therapy session with the first of her colleagues who is free and also happens to specialise in ‘losing touch with reality’, which is understandable. Nico tries a different approach. “Leo and Jason are going to show up in the next like, minute.”

There's a loud cheer just as he finishes speaking, and Leo’s voice booms over the music.

“Chef Leo is back in business!”

Nico raises his eyebrows at Piper and spreads his hands. She's still frowning at him.

“Okay that's… a little weird, but they did say they were on their way. Have you had anything else to drink? Taken anything?”

“Before? Yeah, your joint and like half a bottle of moonshine. About an hour after this conversation.”

Before Piper can respond, Leo and Jason appear beside them, taco trays at the ready.

“Yikes, whatever conversation is happening here is way too serious.” Leo says, moving to place down his platter once Piper clears the counter for them. “You're welcome, by the way.”

Nico hardly waits for the tray to hit the countertop before he's grabbing a taco and wolfing it down, deciding that he needs to sober up immediately and figure out what the fuck is going on.

Leo retracts his hands like Nico is a feral dog. “Jesucristo. Piper, do you feed the boy?”

“Nico is a twenty-five-year-old Adult, with an Adult Job and Adult Bills. He feeds himself.”

Jason, meanwhile, is watching him with a concerned expression, moving to his opposite side. “You good?” he asks softly as Nico starts in on his second taco.

Nico covers his mouth to reply around the mouthful of food, because of course they’re talking to him while he’s eating. “Bad trip.”

“He says he's already been at the party.” Piper fills them in, giving Nico a chance to finish his taco in peace. “Like, lived the whole thing already.”

“Like deja-vu?” Jason asks, and Nico shrugs.

“I guess.”

“Deja-vu?” Leo repeats, inserting himself into the conversation. “The fuck have you been smoking?”

“Piper’s joint, or nothing, I don’t fucking know.”

Leo takes the joint from Piper and studies it carefully, like he can tell the chemical components through sight and touch alone. She rolls her eyes. “At least smoke it, asshole.”

He inhales deeply. Breathes back out slowly. A moment's pause, and he hands the joint back to Piper with a shrug. “Yeah. that’s definitely just weed, dude.”

“Whatever it is, it has majorly fucked me up.”

“Again, you haven’t had any.”

She holds it out to him, but Nico waves her off.

“I need to figure out what’s going on.” He starts, and blinks when he realises that Piper’s expression has shifted, nor is her attention on his face. “What?”

She’s glaring at something over his shoulder, and Nico turns to find Octavian standing in the doorway. He gives Nico an imporing look.

“Nico, can we-”

“Absolutely not.” His roommate speaks before Nico can, and Octavian scowls at her.

“This doesn’t concern you, Piper.”

She raises her chin, giving Octavian a look that is ice cold. “This is my house, and you weren’t invited. Get out.”

Octavian looks back at Nico, as if he’d somehow be on his side. He shrugs innocently. “It’s true, I just pay rent. Better do as she says.”

Jason and Leo are on either side of Octavian now (which, admittedly, is a little funny. Jason is both taller and broader than his ex, but Leo is about five-foot-three on a good day.) “Private party, dude.” Leo says, his smile threatening.

Jason doesn’t have to say anything. Octavian takes one look at him and seems to reconsider whatever retort was going through his head.

Octavian meets his eyes through the wall of his friend’s shoulders. “Just… Call me? Please?” He pleads as Jason and Leo guide him out. Nico flips him off.

Piper is still scowling past him when he turns back to her. “Dickbag.” She says finally, earning a snort of laughter from Nico.

“Want a shot?” She asks, a little too enthusiastically, and Nico grins.

-

“Happy birthday Nico! I’m so sorry we’re late.” Hazel pulls him into a tight hug and kisses both his cheeks in greeting. Frank is a little more reserved than his sister, but still gives Nico a hug that is only slightly bone crushing.

“You’ve not missed much.” He tells Hazel when Frank releases him, a little breathless.

Leo appears with a couple paper plates loaded with tacos, which he hands to Hazel and Frank. Nico tries to steal one from Hazel, but she smacks his hand away with a sisterly glare. He sticks his tongue out at her and she laughs.

Leo gives his sister and brother-in-law a wide grin. “We had to kick out Octavian.”

Hazel grimaces, not finding this news nearly as amusing as Leo. “Why was he here? Surely you didn’t invite him.” She pauses, then turns to Nico with a disapproving frown. “You didn’t get back with him, did you?”

“What- Hazel, no.” He’s almost offended that she would come to such a conclusion. Mainly because it’s not exactly outside of his wheelhouse, in terms of bad romantic decisions, and they all know it.

“Good. You deserve better.”

He rolls his eyes, but gives her a small smile. “Keep saying that and I’ll start believing it.”

–

They manage to procure the couches to sit as a group, Perks of being host-slash-birthday-boy, Nico figures.

His social battery is quickly wearing out. He loves his friends and he loves his sister and her fiance but he hates parties and he hates crowds and really, Leo, why did you think this was the best way to celebrate my birthday?

It’s Nico, Piper, and Jason on one and Hazel and Frank on the other. Leo sits on the floor between Jason’s legs. He's playing with a Rubik’s Cube, because of course he is. Nico isn’t even sure where he found it, or if he brought it with him for some inexplicable Leo reason.

They’re talking amongst themselves with voices raised above the general clamor and thumping music, trying to catch up with each other, while Nico stares ahead at nothing.

They, being the six of them, could have rigged up Nico’s Switch to the projector and played Mario Kart until 4am while getting high, and honestly, that sounds like a much better night than being surrounded by people he doesn’t know, during one of the weirdest nights of his life.

“I’m going outside.” He says suddenly, knocking Piper’s legs off his lap as he jumps to his feet. She stretches them out in his absence, leaning back into Jason, and looks up at him.

“If you go to the shop can you grab me a box of Marlboros? Please and thank you.”

Nico nods, though he has no intention of heading that far again, lest he get hit by another car.

–

He takes the stairwell two steps at a time. Hopefully the fresh air will clear his head a little. His vision is starting to get hazy, but he doesn’t feel that drunk.

He misses a step.

He can’t catch himself.

Nico tumbles down the rest of the stairs and lands on his neck with a crunch.

–

Someone is knocking on the bathroom door.

Nico is staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“For fuck’s sake.”

He broke his neck. He fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck and fucking died. Again. He pulls back his hair with shaking hands and checks himself in the mirror, turning his head left and right, for any sign of a broken neck.

Nothing.

He lets his hair fall back into his face with a frustrated sigh.

He backs up and holds his shirt up. He was hit by a car and then fell down a concrete stairwell, he should be covered in bruises.

Again. Not a scratch.

Someone’s knocking on the door.

“Give me a fucking minute.” He hisses, pulling his shirt back down. He leans over the sink. Splashes water onto his face and rubs briskly. Get it together, Niccoló.

He doesn’t even glance at the girl waiting to get in, striding past her and directly towards Piper, who is still in the fucking kitchen.

“Piper, I think I’m losing my mind.” He announces, somewhat desperately, before she can start singing Happy Birthday.

“That’s your frontal lobe finishing it’s development.” She answers with a grin. It drops, when she sees how shaken he is. “Oh no, what’s wrong?”

He leans his elbows on the counter and hides his face in his hands, breathing slowly and deeply to try and settle his heart rate. “I keep. I don’t know. I think I’m dead and I’m stuck in limbo which is my twenty-fifth birthday party, for some fucking reason.” He looks back up to gauge her reaction, raking his hair back with one hand.

It doesn’t look good, not that he was expecting anything else.

“Okay. In good conscience, I can’t let you drink or smoke anymore.” She starts, stubbing the joint out in an ashtray and tucking it behind her ear. “I’ll kick everyone else out, it can just be the six of us and we can figure out what’s going on.”

Honestly, it’s tempting, but he knows that, for Piper,‘figuring out what’s going on’ is code for ‘are you in danger and need medical assistance’ not ‘the universe is out to kill me and succeeding.'

He deliberates for a little longer, before shaking his head. “No. No, it’s fine. I think I’m just having a bad trip. I might just… Go to bed. Sorry for being a killjoy.”

Piper rounds the counter to give him a quick hug. “You’re not, you’re being smart. I’ll let folk stay for now, but text me if things get too loud and they’re gone. It’s still your birthday.”

“Right. Enjoy your night.”

She gives him another hug, one arm around his shoulders, pressing her cheek to his hair affectionately before letting him go. Nico can see her pulling her phone out as he leaves the kitchen.

A few people wish him happy birthday when he passes them in the hallway, and he gives them half-hearted ‘thank you’s’ before retreating into the dark of his bedroom. He kicks off his boots and falls face-first onto his bed, not bothering to change out of the rest of his clothes.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday.” He mutters to himself, sending a quick prayer to whatever God happens to be listening so that he doesn’t suffocate in his sleep and wake up in the fucking bathroom.

[soundsaboutrighttumblr]

Stray thoughts about The eighth sense, in no particula order, now that I’ve finished watching:

- The parallel of the therapist and the diner boss? Like this last ep’s scene where Jaewon sat with her and she got answers out of him so casually, it made me think back to their very first appearances on screen, it struck me then how their faces, first the therapist and then the diner lady were cut so close after one another, that I had to rewind a moment to check if they were the same actress at first glance. The function of an experienced older lady friend who is willing to listen to your stories, interested in the youth and their problems, and all the ways therapy/emotional work for growth can look like with a support system? Especially for young men maybe?

- the shots of the therapy sessions mirrored in those glass orbs, that give the association of small bubbles? like small bubbles outside of reality, a mirror to it, focusing some aspects for Jaewon, but being a small enclosed world nonetheless? We see the therapist reflected in those, reachng out, handing over prescriptions? It does feel like a limited reach and inflence, when she is in there, in contrast to when she moves freely in the room like in that last scene of hers with Jaewon, behind him and provoking him from the side, much more an interaction.

- the ocean metaphor with all its facets, if the ocean is life, or emotionality, we have all the variants for Jaewon: the fish tank in therapy as a tamed confined ocean safe to look at, the wild and dangerous waved of the real ocean, that Jaewon surfes and that make him happy, that he seeks out. The Han river and how he dips his toes in in that last ep, reconnecting with waters, emotions, a body of water that is closer within reach...

- in that context also the song Yoon Won sings at the campfire at the beach? about life tossing you inside the waves but that’s okay you will get through it’s just what life is, you can fall, it’s a part of it, also foreshadowing

- Jaewon’s secret photography account as a sign to us that no, his hope and dreams are not dead, just well hidden, but there’s actually a person still under that depression-paralyzed rigidity and frozen exterior

- how Yoon Won’s display of emotionality, there in the club room, her close up tears and struggle is what shakes Jaewon out of his rigor? How the therapist said ‘you are so caught up in your own trauma that you forget others’, and then we see the pain on Yoon Won’s face as she voices her struggles that must be a close mirror to Jaewon’s own emotional inner struggles and monologues, and suddenly, from out of the frame Jaewon reaches in, emphatically responsive in a way he could not fully be with Jihyun a moment before, where he still sat robot like, just holding out to preserve his armor because, not being able to allow that connection just yet,  Jihyun is too close still to his own trauma and warped need to protect, but underneath his depression Jaewon is empathic af, and the sincere responsiveness in his reaction then, that maybe is as important for accessing his own healing as it is important for Yoon won?

I’ll surely think of others, but. Man.

[bengiyo]

The Eighth Sense Eps 3 & 4 Stray Thoughts

Last time, we all lost our minds at the inherent queerness of this show, and how distinct it feels in the world of BL. We met Ji Hyun, a new resident of Seoul from the countryside who recently started school, and Jae Won, a senior returning from military service and son of a wealthy family. Ji Hyun is struggling with city life, and Jae Won is struggling with everyone's expectations of him. These two met and felt instantly drawn to each other, and are now engaged in intricate rituals in the surfing club. We left them on the beach before what felt like a kiss.

Episode 3

Okay so it was a kiss! That was not tentative at all.

Oh, I'm not a fan of pressuring new members to binge drink. Relieved others are pushing back, but still it's gross.

Why is Ji Hyun being brave about the drink? Is it to distract himself from the kiss and abrupt separation? Is it to end the tension of the moment and save the girls? Is he getting drunk enough to be taken care of by Jae Won?

This dude is so annoying every time he gets drunk. Tae Hyung definitely wants to fuck Jae Won, and it's embarrassing.

Ah, of course Jae Won has built up a history of getting drunk and kissing people. He needed to build that mask.

Hey, that was a beautiful shot of the beach.

Not a fan of Ji Hyun potentially going out into the water alone, but it is intriguing that he tried to suit up on his own in maybe the wrong size. He's not comfortable anymore.

Oh, Jae Won. You can't just ignore the boy like this. This is also unfortunately familiar.

I have questions about the person running a bar in Korea that can't understand enough Korean to take orders.

I get Jae Won feeling more comfortable with Yoon Won after all this time because she feels grounded.

Jae Won, you can't smile fondly at his art after ignoring him!

Damn, the freshmen just casually clocking Yoon Won as a lesbian.

There's a lot of drinking in this show.

I don't think the roommate's assessment is totally off. If Jae Won is signalling that he doesn't want to interact with Ji Hyun anymore, it's probably best to just let it go. Does beg whether Ji Hyun knows he's queer.

If Ji Hyun doesn't want this girl to attach to him too much, it would be ideal to introduce her to the definitely straight friend.

I like Joon Pyo.

Oh, I like experiencing the therapy session through the distorted reflection

I love the bar owner. Ji Hyun definitely needs encouragement.

Here Jae Won goes with the meaningful looks again. Not sure how I want to read them having an interaction right after a therapy session.

I liked this episode. I like Ji Hyun taking his angst and confusion in stride. I also like how many people encourage him.

Episode 4

Gosh, seeing these two recognize that there's something special about just being near each other in silence is just...wow.

Wonder what changed for Hae? Is it because it's night time. Don't send me back to my beauty in the dark phase.

I like Jae Won learning how to draw. It's really sweet to see them learning the other's passion. We also get to see Ji Hyun smile and laugh.

"Do you want to eat ramen with me?" *I understood that reference.*

Again the tension between these two when Jae Won adjusts Ji Hyun's bag. These two are delivering.

I love Ji Hyun's briefcase. I hope there isn't a plot point involving it going missing.

I'm obsessed with Ae Ri. She looked at Jae Won and Ji Hyun and was like, "Ah, gays," and immediately covered for Ji Hyun. Then, she goes on to show Ji Hyun how obvious things appear, and to keep his wits about him, before making clear she does not desire him. I hope she gets everything she wants.

Here these dudes go again meddling in Jae Won's affairs with Eun Ji.

If Eun Ji does something cruel to these boys because she saw them bonding in the stacks....

I'm not a therapist, nor have I been in much therapy, but it feels like Jae Won can be honest with his.

Here Eun Ji goes being mean to Ji Hyun.

Oh my goodness. That was a low-key read. "I didn't say you broke it intentionally. But if you broke it, is it that hard to apologize to the person fixing it?" She doesn't know why this girl is bullying Ji Hyun, but she is not going to let it slide.

A pinky brush into hand holding? We stay winning.

"A beer in your dorm room. Aren't we moving too fast?" Sir, you kissed and then avoided him!

I no longer like Joon Pyo. We had everything. A hand on a leg, a secret romantic desire expressed, and a lean in for a kiss. Then he runs in to spoil the moment!

I'm really glad they give us two episodes a week. I'd have been really frustrated to only get episode 3 with Jae Won avoiding him only to end on the subway would have been annoying. Instead we're seeing this support network grow around Ji Hyun and the obvious relationship blossoming between these two. I'm curious to learn about this secret desire Jae Won is afraid to voice.

[angelofthenight]

The Monster You Created Pt.7

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Manipulation, “I could fix her” syndrome, Daddy issues, Mental breakdown, Hurt-comfort(?), Male rage, YN kind of has ptsd, Physical aggression kinda

Word Count: 4.7k

Table of Contents

( So sorry this took so long but I did warn y’all that Game of Thrones has me locked and bound and gagged in it’s basement )

~

You and Sam sat while eating lunch as the T.V. played a Halloween movie. Yeah, it was already nearing Halloween. You’ve been in Sam’s basement for a little over four weeks now, although you swore it felt more like four months.

You knew you have slowly been gaining Sam’s trust more and more each day as you remained on your best behavior. Maybe suspiciously a little too good of behavior but Sam was probably too delusional and blinded by his own happiness to notice; a fool too enchanted by the possibilities your potential love provided to even see that you were manipulating him by his own unhealthy infatuation with you every time you spoke.

You sometimes feared you would get too caught up in pretending and you wouldn’t even notice the stockholm syndrome if it hit you in the face. But your stubborn willpower was still far too strong to let that happen. Especially since Sam’s occasional prying about your childhood and relationship with your dad, along with your self-destructive phase after he left, aggravated you far too much.

In fact, he was a little too curious about that part of your life. He talked about it so carefully as if he was walking on eggshells with you, as if the two of you were in a therapy session about your dad.

You glanced over to Sam who was finishing up his lunch, a suspicious glare set in your eyes. “There’s another reason why you brought me here, isn’t there?” You spoke out and by the way his eyes widened and shot to the floor you knew you were onto something. “What is it? And be honest.” You sternly said, your eyes analyzing his every move of body language.

Sam poked and mixed his food with his plastic fork as he bit his bottom lip with a tight jaw. “This…” he started then sighed, “this wasn’t just about you helping me… I want to help you too.”

Your brows pinched together. “Help me? Help me with what?” Sam sighed loudly again, like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask him that. He tossed his plate to the table before throwing his head back, taking another heavy, loud breath. All in another breath, he snapped his head back up to look straight at you. “Your boyfriend’s a shit-eating asshole. And who else was a shit-eating asshole in your life? Your dad.”

Your eyes twitched wider.

“You’re only with your boyfriend because he reminds you of your dad and-and you wanna heal your pain of not having a dad in your life for so long.” Sam said in a jittery tone as his eyes casted down to his lap, struggling to find the right words. “I… I thought if I separated you from him it would give you time to like… reflect on yourself.” A long string of silence rolled by before he nervously looked over to you to see why you weren’t responding.

He was met with your stone glare, eyebrows so furrowed they enveloped your eyelids, and parted lips. “So what?” You said loudly. “You thought you could “fix” me? You thought the only thing keeping me from falling for you was because of some bullshit “daddy issues”?” You barked out.

“I’m fine now! All that “pain” you’re talking about, it’s all in the past now. I am healed. I have done my self-reflection. You and I are not the same. My dad did not fuck me up.” You hadn’t realized the tears piling up in your eyes until you found it harder to speak through your tightening throat from just simply talking about it. You sharply inhaled and darted your pupils up to prevent those drops of salt water from pouring over your bottom lash lines. Your exhale came out shaky.

“You can cry. It’s alright.” Sam’s voice reached your ears softly. You harshly sniffled, desperately holding in your tears and the sob that you were trapping in your own throat. You didn’t want to expose yourself in such a vulnerable way in front of him. He was the last person you’d want to let your guard down around, you feared it would give him too big of an ego boost and motive to touch you.

You took a hard gulp as an attempt to swallow the heavy lump in your throat, your lips tightly shut. “I know you need to let it out.” Sam said again, his eyes on you sad and pained. “You can let it out here. You’re safe and would never be judged here.” Sam practically begged, hating to see you trying so hard to remain strong.

You abruptly stood up. “I need a nap.” You said extremely hoarsely and breathy. Your stiff body turned around and only made it two steps before your knees locked and you fell to the floor, knees first and landing on your elbows and forearms. Your sob finally spilled out of your throat and came out in an anguished rip, your red cracked eyes squeezing shut as tears gushed out like an open, fatal wound. Your face twisted in heartbreaking agony with your forehead pressed to the floor as your chest was in painful torture. You choked and wheezed on your own sobs and wails while burning fresh tear trails constantly replaced the ones before it down your red cheeks.

Sam was up on his feet the millisecond you hit the floor. He was frozen for a moment, not really knowing what to do even though he fantasized himself comforting you through crying breakdowns hundreds of times. He hesitantly took steps over to your hunched form to take a knee and steadily placed a hand on your convulsing back. You didn’t seem to physically mind or realize his touch so he began rubbing circles on your back as you finally let out years worth of pent up pain through ugly sobs.

He didn’t dare hush you in a comforting manner, instead just whispering encouragement. “Let it out. Let it all out.” He quietly said before you gasped in a breath to scream out another long wail.

Your tearful meltdown lasted two whole hours with you slowing down and your breathing returning to normal before your thoughts would rewind and flash you back to your child and teenhood memories so your bawling howls would start all over again. When you were fairly certain you had burned yourself out, you silently lifted your numb and dizzy body up to the bed to lay down.

Sam assisted you as much as you let him and once you were laid down he carefully said, “I’ll go get you some water and ibuprofen.” He turned around before he heard you weakly say, “Can you wake me up when it’s dinner.” He turned back around, lips parted and brows curving up. “Um… y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll wake you when it’s dinnertime.” He redirected himself to instead head for his room but before he pushed his door open he heard your delicate voice once again.

“Thank you, Sam.”

Sam felt himself smile and his chest warmly fluttered, softly inhaling as if in a dream. “Yeah… it’s-it’s no problem. I’d do anything for you.” He said as he stared at his door, euphoric ecstasy fogging up his mind and he knew by just your gentle voice of gratitude that he would forever be doomed as your slave. But what bliss that was.

Once you heard Sam go into his room, your numb face somehow let out a hushed scoff. Who knew that actually letting go of your dignity momentarily would get him wrapped around your finger so simply. You honestly didn’t plan on your dramatic sobbing mess, you truly did try to fight it. But after your painful cries died down you realized how much of a perfect opportunity it was to reel in Sam’s ignorant trust.

What. A. Fool.

But what man wasn’t?

~

It was Halloween night, four nights after your breakdown with tears of trauma and you used those four nights to pretend to slowly warm up to Sam and give him just breadcrumbs of what he wanted from you; gratitude, obedience, vulnerability, attention, and domestication. And with dangling all of that in front of him it only left him as a mess of desperation and longing; a blind fool too lovesick to even see the manipulation right in front of his eyes. Sometimes, you felt as if you were the free one and he was the one on a leash you were holding.

So with all of this on your side, you finally felt it was safe enough to get that shower privilege.

“Hey Sam?” You asked casually, trying to make yourself seem like you were getting too used to your predicament. Sam hummed as he looked up from his dinner to look up at you through starry eyes. You purposely bit your lip. “I know you’re gonna say no, and I won’t blame you if you do, but I was wondering if I could maybe get that shower I’ve been wanting for awhile now?”

Sam halted his eating, looking to the ground as he went into thought. Your heart anxiously pounded as you begged in your mind for him to approve, you’ve sacrificed too much of your self respect to be denied.

He swallowed his food and glanced over to stare at you. “I think you’ve been behaving enough to earn it.” The sight of the burst of a wide smile on your tired face brought a small one to Sam’s. It felt good to reward you.

“You could hold the chain if it makes you feel better.” You offered, trying to make it sound like you were putting him first. Sam paused to think before shaking his head and returning to his food. “No, I don’t think you need that.”

He was even stupider than you were hoping. You were honestly surprised of how perfect that went since of how hugely controlling he was.

“You can take it after dinner.” Sam added but meant it more as a question. You nodded with a lively smile. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.” Sam pressed his lips together as he felt an energized smile attack his face once again.

Dusk had crept over the sky much too delayed for your taste as you had been counting the minutes till dinnertime, eyes glued to the sliding door as you waited for Sam to return home. You scarfed down the takeout food in between buttering Sam up in the most casual ways possible. Just the little things that you knew would stand out to him like letting your gaze linger on him long enough until he looked up to catch you quickly looking away or slipping small smiles over little things he did. All just breadcrumbs of affectionate attention to leave Sam desperate for more.

You waited until Sam was finished with his scraps before you reminded him of your agreement. Sam’s cheerful demeanor seemed to slip a bit, perhaps his doubts and worries started to cling back onto him now that it started to hit him what exactly he was agreeing to. But all those feelings of distrust vanished with a ‘poof’ once he locked eyes with your hopeful and patient ones. You’ve been behaving so well lately and he knew that if he wanted that to continue he would have to reward you.

He stood up and looked down at your big eyes that you casted up at him, so full of patience and compliance; waiting for his instructions. Sam’s breath in his throat grew chopped and heavy, a warmth spreading down his insides. When you looked up at him like that he couldn’t restrain his thoughts from reimagining this scenario with a much different outcome. And a part of him couldn’t help but wonder how far your good behavior and obedience would go…

“You alright?” You asked with an eyebrow raise, an uncomfortable sting setting on your back as he looked down at you with fogged eyes and bated breath. Sam almost choked on his pant as he shook his head to rid of the realization that he was fantasizing lewd acts with you right in front of you. “Y-yeah. I-um… let’s get you that shower.” He stuttered around before quickly taking a knee in front of you to hastily unlock your chain while hiding his reddening face.

Once freed from the chain locked around your ankle, you gathered the small pile of clothes you had chosen earlier on your bed into your arms. You rose to your feet and let Sam, all but quick yet cautious, lead you to his bedroom door. He positioned himself next to you so that you couldn’t run for the door and once he opened the door to his bedroom he switched sides to almost block your view of his room, hurrying you through it to the bathroom and shutting the door with an accidental slam.

You transitioned rooms so quickly you barely had time to register it even happened. But the sight of a new surrounding brought satisfying relief to your mentality. You looked up every wall and took in every crook and cranny, no window though, basking in the joy of something new after being stuck in the same area for weeks straight. You slowly spun around to view the whole room and ended with facing Sam just silently staring at you, not a thought behind those empty eyes.

“Can you… you know.” You awkwardly said, spinning your finger to send the non-verbal message that you wanted some privacy to strip out of your clothes. Sam flinched but flusteredly stuttered nonetheless. “Y-y-yeah! No problem.” He shuffled around so that his back was now facing you.

You eyed his back as you slowly lifted your top over your head. Once it was off you tore your eyes off him and finished off your shedding of clothes to quickly slip into the shower, spreading the curtain hurriedly to hide your bare naked form just in case he wanted to try to sneak a glance.

You exhaled in pure bliss when the first couple of water splashes fell upon your body. You nearly cried tears of joy as the water soon drenched you like a warm embrace. You couldn’t stop your thrilled smile as you spread the water with your hands all over your body, rubbing and massaging the warm water into your tense muscles and dry skin. It was heaven. Even when your fingertips pruned and you began to feel light dizziness from the steam, you still happily bathed.

You honestly didn’t want to leave, you haven’t felt this happy and safe for so long. You wanted to soak it up for as long as you possibly could. But unfortunately all good things must come to an end. You knew that since now you had Sam’s delicate trust you could rejoin with the shower at any time you wished, you had to remind yourself of that.

So with a deep, defeated, sad sigh you twisted the knob until the shower rain slowed down to a stop. You peeked out the curtain to find Sam in the same place you had left him. You stepped out of the small shower to instantly begin drying your dripping body and squeezing the droplets out of your drenched hair. As you kept glancing to check on Sam, you began to tug your clothes back on and convinced yourself to not be sad that your shower ended but instead be happy it even happened in the first place.

But in that moment, you recognized a chance; an opportunity.

It was Halloween night. People were out of their houses, teenagers and college kids were replacing children on the streets, this was a lively night. A once in a lifetime opportunity.

You couldn’t stop your own scheming even when you kept telling yourself that one of the reasons you worked so hard for this was so that you could build a sturdier trust with Sam that would eventually lead to more privileges. But now that you were up and free, you didn’t want to go back to that chain. Not when freedom was so close that you could taste it!

You kept telling yourself not to, the longer you waited the better of a chance would come for your escape. But you also couldn’t bear to pass up this opportunity.

You stared at the top of the toilet tank. It had to have been heavy enough to make a good weapon. You could use it to knock out Sam who still had his loyal eyes stuck to the door and make a run for it. It was that easy. This was the perfect chance.

You carefully held your breath as you reached for the top of the toilet tank, quietly taking it in your hands and testing its weight. It was perfect. You didn’t underestimate your strength, at work you mashed fruit every single day and surprisingly gained quite a bit of muscle from it. You turned to Sam and steadied your breath, lifting the tank lid and readying your swing as you stalked towards your kidnapper.

You pulled back and swung high, aiming for the back of his head.

But your strength had failed you.

You hadn’t realized that not consistently working your arms affected your strength especially after weeks of constant tiredness and not moving around as much. Your muscles gave out as soon as you swung the lid high and your aim and lunge had weakened to only do as much as getting him to the floor with a pained groan and hands holding the back of his head.

Your steady breathing fell apart into wheezes of high adrenaline. You had done it. And if you wanted to live to be proud of it you had to leave now. While he was still hunched on the ground.

A part of you wanted to stay and use this to your advantage. To grab the tank lid and fucking smash his brains in. But you chose your freedom over revenge in that second of debating contemplation, mixed with knowing deep down you didn’t have it in you.

You dropped the lid to the ground and swung the door open, sprinting out of the bathroom, through his room you paid no attention to, and all the way to the sliding door. You threw yourself against the glass door through an unhealthily high adrenaline rush from the stressed hurry and desperation for that breath of fresh air. You tugged the handle to the side to exhale a panicked breath of failure. But as quickly as your hope had been shattered, the fragments seemed to reassemble themselves to create the broken aftermath of what was once whole. All it took was a second, more harsher, tug to slide it open.

That cold October air rushed into the room, hitting you in the face and if you weren’t in a hurry you would’ve stood there for a minute longer to embrace and enjoy that nighttime breeze to wash away that imprisoned stench of mental rot; a funk of a decaying carcass of the woman you were the first night you had been trapped. You wanted that woman back. And she was so close to being yours again. And so as soon as the door slid open you wasted no time in dashing out into the yard, your feet nearly slipping on the scattered fallen autumn leaves that coated the dead grass.

You’ve analyzed the yard weeks ago, already noting the tall fence that surrounded the open area like you were a caged zoo animal. You remember pressing your face against the glass to see further around the area to note the lock on the fence door. But that was no problem to you, you’ve done quite a bit of fence hopping in your life, especially in your rebellious youth.

As your fingers curled and gripped against the chain fence, lifting one of your feet to shove into one of the openings, a weight shoved itself against you, forcing your body to slam against the fence, painfully.

Your blood ran cold just like the night wind; turning to ice at the realization of your reality. You were too slow.

You hissed in a quick breath to blow it out as a, “HEEEEEEL-” Sam’s calloused hands wrapped over and around your body with one firmly gripping over your mouth to cut your scream short whilst the other wrapped around your waist to squeeze your hips against him. His hot breath paired with grunts fanned over your ear and you became much too focused on the painfully audible fluctuation of your heart.

And with that he pitilessly ripped you off the fence and dragged you backwards in pursuit of the open sliding door like the two of you were recreating a scene from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Ever-so hopeful, you continued to thrash; fighting against his bludgeoning grip as you sobbed an onset of pleas through his hand for the possibility of persuasion. But the endeavor of humanistic covetousness could not be reasoned with. Especially after the betrayal of trust and heartbroken awareness of the trickery you had snuck past his attentive eyes.

‘No, no, no, no.’ You repeated in your head as the tendrils of terror squeezed and suffocated your mind, terrified of what was to come due to your failure. You were so close.

You clawed at the air and his firm hands, drumming your heels into the ground only for them to slide into the direction Sam was dragging you. Warm tears flowed down your face and neck and as the foreboding anxiety pricked at your delicate heart, you cried in anguish. Once you were halfway through the door you made one last pathetic attempt of escape or at least a delay to your demise by grabbing the frame like a child refusing to go to the doctor. But Sam had mercilessly thrashed you from your hold, his hand parting from the lower half of your face to slide it shut with a lock.

“Please.” Your voice was hoarse from the endless amounts of crying and screaming for release from his captivity but your pitiful mewls only fell deaf upon disillusioned ears. He was still huffing breaths of fury and groans of pain from your previous hit and run on him. He hauled you against the carpet as you continued to kick and resist and whimper and sob. “Sam, please!” You didn’t exactly know what you were begging for; mercy, forgiveness, another chance? Maybe all three.

Sam threw you down onto the bed, face first, and before you could push yourself up Sam forced your face back into the mattress as he placed a knee on your lower back as you still thrashed around. He roughly grabbed onto your squirming leg and relocked your chain, but not without struggle and a sharp scowl on his face. You continued to pour out sobs from your throat as shiny wet trails populated your cheeks, feeling the pain in your back from his pressured knee. “Sa-am!”

Sam roughly pushed himself off of you to stomp into his room to search for something before coming back out, transitioning into a straddle on your back. He snatched both your arms and crossed them behind your back. It wasn’t until you heard the sound of duct tape unrolling where you panicked and squirmed underneath him, howling out more pleas. “Sam, no! Please!”

“Stop complaining! You did this to yourself!” Sam savagely snapped back at you. It held such a carnivorous bite that you almost didn’t even recognize him by his voice. As he duct taped your forearms together behind your back, you still choked on your own sobs until he suddenly wrapped a dull bandana over your mouth and tied its ends into a tight knot behind your head. Your screaming sobs came out as only muffled hums now, your eyes overflowing and drowning with burning tears which made your iris’ appear as puddles.

Sam got off you once again only to unkindly jerk you around so that you were facing him and sitting up. You came face to face with Sam’s animalistic expression, his breathing drowning in malevolent growls as anger burned him from the inside. It frightened you to your paralyzed bones.

“So what?! This whole time you were just putting on a little “good girl” act?! Faking everything?! Fucking tricking me into actually trusting you only for you to try to run away?!” He lunged forward to ruthlessly grab your shoulders, shaking your trembling form as his ferocious mannerisms only made your tears worse. “Why are you trying to run away?! Run away from me, run away from my love?! All I want to do is love you and care for you and you try to fucking run away from that?! Why the fuck do you wanna leave so bad?!”

He leaned his face closer to continue to yell, his tone holding a feral, barbarous cut; a predatorial rage clawing an implode out of his composure. “I know you need time to adjust and get used to everything but jesus fucking christ how much time do you need?! I’ve been so patient with you and you would be so much happier if you just stopped FUCKING resisting me and fighting me!”

Your brows held the shape of an upside down ‘V’ as you remained bawling your wide bloodshot eyes out, feeling as if the whole world was shaking and that you would pass out from how your inhales for breath got more desperate from the hyperventilation and broke down into wheezes.

“I thought this was going so well! But was that all you could think of the whole time?! Was escaping the only thing on your mind all the time?! Why?! You’re so much safer here with me!” Sam’s own eyes filled up with hot tears as his expression shifted into one of heartbroken desperation. It gave you whiplash how quickly the switch could flip on his emotions. “You can’t leave me, (Y/n)! I don’t know what I’d do without you! If you left me now I’ll die!” His lips quivered, his hand reaching up to grip onto his chest as if he could feel his heart failing.

“I can’t survive without you. You’re the only reason worth living for, you’re my whole world! I need you more than I need air to breathe! I-I’ll do anything you ask me to!! But please don’t ever try to leave me!”

He was sick. There was something wrong with him. He needed help, professional help. You uselessly took note of all this as you grew to loathe your predicament even more, watching the image of the man you once knew crumble away like he was never there to begin with. What was wrong with him?

Your throat felt so heavy that you couldn’t even gulp yet your eyes never stopped leaking that salty substance, your lips shuddering in front of trapped sobs from the tight cloth around your face. Sam finally took notice of how many fresh tears continuously streamed down your cheeks and reached back towards your trembling shoulders. “Sh… don’t cry. I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” He softly said, giving you another mental whiplash from another significant attitude change.

When you didn’t nod to his question it instantly awoken another brutish bark. “RIGHT?!” You squeezed your eyes closed and flinched away from him, not moving far as his iron grip kept you close to him so that you could feel his huffing, foaming breaths on your wet face. “I love you so fucking much that I could never hurt you! Why don’t you understand that?!”

Sam forced himself off you and off the bed to only stand for a few seconds before leaning back down to lowly say to your face with a gripped jaw, “I don’t care how many times it takes to get through to you, I’ll make you realize how much I love you.”

Then he stomped away from your frozen-in-fear composure and into his room, loudly slamming the door and a scream ripped through the walls, “FUUUCK!!” Which was followed by a few crashing sounds and roars of violent frustration.

You huddled into the corner of your bed, pressing your knees to your chest as you instantaneously weeped away with sobs scratching your throat raw.

If you weren’t chained and duct taped and mouth bound, you’d say you’ve been in this exact situation before… with two other men in your life.

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart

[black-cat-babe]

Friendly sparring between Ezra Bridger and Bo Katan Kryze quickly turns into an unplanned therapy session. Meanwhile Sabine Wren's attempts to find out what Din Djarin looks like beneath his helmet are almost thwarted by Grogu.

Preview under the cut - written for day 2 of sabezra dinbo week!

Ezra laughed and casually leaned on his staff. He held his hand out to examine his nails. “I’m a Jedi,” he reminded her. “You don’t need to go easy on me–” he yelped as Bo’s staff struck his with a splintering crack . It snapped into two splintering pieces and he shot a hand out to the floor to catch himself. He caught both pieces in his other hand and turned back to Bo with an expression of betrayal. “You didn’t tell me we were starting!” he complained.  Bo smiled and paused to examine the fine cracks growing in the wood of her staff. “Do your enemies warn you before they attack?” -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sabine could only laugh and shake her head. She pushed herself to her feet and offered a hand to Din. Her brown eyes studied the emotionless visor of his helmet as he pulled himself up. “Why do you hide your face?” she asked. Din glanced back down at Grogu. “I was taught at a young age not to show my face,” he admitted, “by those who raised me. I still don’t feel comfortable showing it to others.” “I thought it was because you were ugly,” Sabine responded. Din’s head shot up and he stared at the younger Mandalorian. “What?” “What?” Sabine repeated.

[chaosandwolves]

hollowness on my tongue <3

Hello lovely,

Ok so this fic is basically inspired by this post

It's about how Buck won't even talk about what's truly going on with him in therapy but also not with anybody really.... Apart from Eddie. Cause Eddie is the only one who's always accepted Buck for who he is

But how to talk to Eddie how much the shooting fucked Buck himself up when Eddie is the one who got shot?

Or how to talk about his anxiety when Eddie does a risky rescue, he's only the worst case scenario plan for Chris!

How to cope with anything when he can't burden the only person who really gets him and who Buck trusts unconditionally?

Easy, he'll fix everything and help Eddie on his recovery journey. But what happens when Eddie is healing and Buck can't focus on that anymore?

This WIP is a bit all over the place but here have a few snippets

Buck doesn't talk about his feelings. Well, he does but only enough so people think he does, so his therapist is happy with him and that it's enough material to work with, that he can still learn and grow from the sessions.

But there are things. The shooting, the utter terror of possibly losing Eddie, the anxiety he had to swallow down to care for Chris, the way he failed in doing so.

He never really shared anything personal with anyone until Eddie. Sure, Bobby has scratched the surface a few times and he's aware that Bobby understands Buck more than his own parents ever have. But until Eddie, Buck didn't even understand himself most of the time. With Eddie, however… He's the first person who allowed Buck to be his entire self. He allowed him to figure himself out, while always being a source of calm and reflection to him and, most importantly, acceptance.

Eddie knows Buck in a way that's so profound that Buck often wonders whether Eddie knows him better than Buck knows himself.

So yeah the only person he trusts with these thoughts he has right now, the only person he could possibly tell how he actually feels, how, lately, the nightmares are too real and too loud, how water sometimes tastes like blood to him; that person is not his therapist, is not Bobby or Maddie or Hen or Chim. It's Eddie. And there is no way he can tell these things to him because Eddie needs to heal.

So, no, he can't tell Eddie that, sometimes he still tastes his blood on his tongue. He can't tell him that he can't stand drying mud or syrup on his hands cause it brings him right back to the hospital bathroom where he frantically tried to wash away the horror.

And as long as Eddie is going to be fine, Buck will be too

He doesn't need to elaborate on how he froze and watched Eddie slipping away and how long that moment seemed to him until he finally got himself together again and started to do his job as he rolled underneath the truck to drag Eddie back to him.

Eddie is fine. So Buck is fine, too. It's simple, really.

And then it just slips out of him. "I know what your blood tastes like."

[superaznchick]

life update #12

hi void i am back for another free therapy session

today i wanted to talk about some things i've spent a lot of time reflecting about over the last two-ish weeks so today's content is gonna be a mish mash of different things

1)

a deep, swelling void inside of me that's been there for as long as i remember - i think i just hate people. but i love them at the same time. let me explain.

growing up i was actually very much extraverted. i was so chatty, i loved talking to people, i loved making jokes and making other people laugh. i used to yell and scream and be loud. and then, i moved to america. i was around 5-6 around the time. i didnt know the language, but i could read expressions and hear the tones - people didn't like me. i was odd, and i looked different. suddenly, i felt as if my mouth had been sewn shut. i couldn't open my mouth and make any noise without feeling like a fool. i couldn't finish assignments because i didn't know, i didn't understand anything. and this, this was the first time that i developed such an affliction for other human beings.

because do you know what kids do to people that are different and odd? kids don't have empathy. there was a wall there where true connections should have been formed. but what about the adults? who, my immigrant mom and her parents that she felt was a good idea to bring along with her? the ones that also didn't speak the language and were emotionally constipated, abusive, and trapped in their own world? another wall. my immigrant dad that couldn't get a job, couldn't secure an america visa, tried again in canada and started an affair even when he had a wife and child waiting for him? another wall.

everywhere i looked: wall. wall, wall, wall wall wall. and me - listen, to be honest at this point i don't actually truly believe anything was ever wrong with me. i mean look at me - i busted out here with 10 fingers and 10 toes, tall and sturdy. i even have some nice traits, like nice boobs! and a tenacity for life, an absolute rejection of failure kicking and screaming. i fought for my life back then. i really did.

so what happened? everywhere i looked i was rejected, shot down. i felt like a little god sometimes, looking around my house. i thought: "did anyone SEE that? look! it happened again! why is no one else seeing what i'm seeing?" i saw everything and understood everything, but it seemed like the adults couldn't see anything. i saw myself crying so hard that i would sleep and wake up with my eyes swollen. i saw myself shutting the fuck up in a room full of kids. i saw my parents screaming at each other. it seemed like no one else could see what i saw back then.

so why do i hate people now? i hate them because they cause me pain. every glance, touch, exchange of words is no longer a shower of candy on christmas morning. people are a void. would you toss your car keys into a void? how about all the money in your pocket? would you throw your jacket, your shoes, your jewelry, your hand into the void? would you throw your time and love and patience and empathy and kindness into a void? a void is a void, like a tree is a tree and a rock is a rock. and people are all, all voids.

so why do i love people? i don't know, why do you love air? like i said - i don't believe anything was ever wrong with me to begin with. i think i believed something was wrong because there was something wrong, but just not with me. i still want to be your neighbor. i still want to bake you banana bread and share it with you on your porch. i want to go to target with you and hold you when you need to be held. i was born like this, and this has never changed.

but the thing that is so hard to get other people to understand is that they are all hurting me - to an unimaginable degree. it feels like i'm losing air every minute i spend with anyone, friend coworker acquaintence whatever. i suffer so much, but i fight tooth and nail for you because i love you. i can't get to everyone. sometimes you'll leave thinking that i'm standoffish and can't hold a conversation. but for one or two of you, i can be a little more than that. i wish it could be fair, but i have to pick the ones that are more kind, empathetic, and understanding to min/max my efforts. i wish i had more room for all of you, i really do, but i don't have the capacity.

does anyone understand? i just don't want to keep living with all this guilt and shame. i'm out here begging to hang out but i'm completely shut down after like two hours. and yeah i can go to your meeting and i can do this task and i can look into this problem for you, but like ... you're on thin fucking ice buddy. no you didn't do anything wrong but i hate working with you because you clearly don't know what i'm going through right now but i still have to put on this face like everything is good and right. no hate -- but hate. you know what i mean?

2)

i can't fight that i'm growing up anymore. every time i'm confronted with my growth i cry inside because it feels like a death. it's like the child inside me is dying but i never even got a chance to be a child. it feels unfair, like why do i have to grow up now? are you telling me that that's IT? like, finally i have some money and mobility and autonomy and now you're telling me "time to hand in your keys the lease is up" like?? come ON dude.

i think that's what i've been feeling lately - a mourning. i'm mourning the death of the me that once was. and i'm genuinely really sad that she didn't live a good life. i've carried her for so long that she felt like a friend, chiming in and commenting on every major life milestone. but she doesn't belong here anymore. she's dying. and i have to let her go.

before she goes i feel like she deserves one more little celebration. i feel like i've been pretty down and negative lately, thinking about all the bad things that happened to me. maybe i would feel better if i took the time to celebrate all the brilliant things about me that survived instead of resenting the parts that were burned away. she was incredible, to be quite honest. no one knows about what she's done, the times she picked herself up and moved forward into darkness and voids. she threw everything into the void, even herself. that is a kind of courage that i don't think i could even muster up today. she did well. really well. and she deserves to rest in peace.

3)

i feel like i was born into this world thinking that true empathy grew on trees, and everyone was getting it except for me. i don't believe this is true anymore. i think some people are just less sensitive than others, and for them their cup already runneth over. but other people like me are just bottomless pits.

4)

doing things - this, living, breathing, working, hoping, wondering, wishing - makes me feel like a baby crying into the void, hoping, wishing someone would come pick me up. sometimes, no one comes. so i continue crying and hoping and wishing.

[piganatur]

THE EIGHTH SENSE EP 4

The repetitive and varying emotions prior to a relationship are always sour or sweet (不问三九)

oh boy, soooo ep 4 huh? We start to deep dive into the nitty-gritty of the leads’ minds and I’m all for it.

Jaewon tackling his feelings at his therapy session? Openly and candidly saying all his concerns while his therapist tells him you don’t have to be loved by everyone? The sheer force of this shot with the triangle of the fish tank behind him, the reflections of the metal balls before him and the sculpture of a head with its eyes and ears covered at his side? majestic Jaewon is teetering on the border of his fears and the truth all the while the outside world won’t notice or listen (no one knows this Jaewon, the one sitting on the couch in the office) but thanks to the reflection of the balls on the table he can see all three sides (also, out of the three balls one is glass, so it’s transparent, something that won't remind him, that lets him off the hook, something that he could fill with whatever he wants)

I’m ecstatic that most interactions that propel our leads to go forward, that affirm and reinforce the truths they have to hear and accept, are coming from women. Women have a crucial part in the eighth sense. They aren’t in the show just to be annoying or to be the punchline to some stereotype (I also love that none of them is related to the leads, yet they’re handled with care). All these female characters are fleshed-out individuals, integrated into the plot so deeply and seamlessly. I could sing odes about Yoonwon, or sajangnim or Aeri but let’s take Eunji for example, she’s not bitchy because she’s a woman but because she’s the ex (and also a brat). Jaewon was right, she really needs to learn some basic manners, I was waiting for the moment the two girls accompanying her to the bar would just stand up and leave that mess lmao. I also feel like Jaewon not only does what’s expected of him but what seems the most convenient bc at this point I honestly can’t get my head around why else he’d ever date Eunji. (Jaewon said they dated for about 2 years while the mandatory enlistment service is between 18-22 months. If they broke up around the middle of Jaewon’s service so at least 9 months(?) after he enlisted, and they had a period of some (썸 fling) before officially dating, then how long were they actually in a relationship?)

Now that I’m already rambling about Eunji, let’s take a look at the restaurant scene. I’ve seen people say that Jihyun should’ve stood up for himself there, but realistically speaking, there was nothing he could have done in that situation. Eunji’s not only a customer of the bar, but she’s also his sunbae in the surfing club. Did she act extremely rudely? Yes. Could’ve Jihyun done anything else but bear it? No. Even being as straightforward (or rude) as Yoonwon wouldn’t cut it, he’d have to be as rude as Shim Woojoo (shoutout to Call it love). His boss (sajangnim ily ♡) could defend Jihyun exactly because she’s the owner and she’s older, what she said can’t be considered rude. And look at that, Eunji didn’t back down even knowing these things (more proof that she’s a brat). Jihyun acting any other way than he did would’ve been out of line big time, only stoking the fire (I’m pretty sure Eunji, being as petty as she is, somewhat anticipated just that). His strength thus lies in his kindness and patience and the fact he didn’t let Eunnji’s bullshit about Jaewon affect their relationship (Jihyun-ah my beloved)

The blossoming relationship between Jihyun and Jaewon is a category of its own. I’ve already mentioned (in this post) the concept of being seen in the eighth sense and that goes hand in hand with showing. Jihyun doesn’t show a lot but it’s always sincere while Jaewon seemingly shows a ton but it’s a facade, something attractive but empty. This contrast, the way it gets a reaction out of them, the seeing and showing, the influence they have on e/o can be found in all of their interactions. One does or says a thing and it impacts the other to react to it, to correct their attitude or behaviour. Their run-in after Jihyun’s terrible shift is a great example. Jaewon first lies about the business he has near the dorms but nonetheless feels the need to be there for Jihyun so comforts him with his touch (his actions speak the truth) and Jihyun spills about his feelings (his words speak the truth). Jihyun’s sincerity once again demands for Jaewon to be, in turn, sincere (and he is, with his words this time). Every contact, the constant back and forth (verbal or nonverbal), the shared intimacy to be in their own world is masterful and so authentic. The two of them cloaked under the night, not as something others see during the day but as something they get to decide, the casual touches that are anything but casual bc they are a force in their own right, a wordless pull. It’s beautiful.

I won’t even try to tackle that moment in the library where for Jaewon, Jihyun is the sole source of light bc I’m unknowing and unworthy to put it into words but fortunately there are ppl out there who are knowing and worthy so read @mare-sanguis post and feel blessed (but I’m sure you already have)

One more thing and I’ll stop this long ass rambling pretending to be a review(?) analysis(?) who knows? It’s about the portrayal of romance because in so many stories of the romance genre one party does all the initiating, the chasing, and the other party is kind of passive idk? They feel good about the developments of course, but they don’t reciprocate that much, more like only accepting the advances? In the eighth sense, both parties put in the work to make this happen. However tentative, however unsure at times their participation is, they’re actively trying to romance each other. The way Jaewon is forward with his actions, Jihyun is forward with his words. It’s a give and take, testing of how well will this go? How far they can go? There’s an exchange in their shared scenes both emotionally and physically, and it makes both of their hearts flutter. Jaewon is bold yet Jihyun can make his breath stop and his head spin with one (1) art lesson by the Han River? Jaewon teases and flirts yet Jihyun asks the real questions, steering the topic to dating and defining relationships? It’s a dance where they take turns to lead depending on the situation because they both want this, because they feed into each other’s happiness.

[rickchung]

Clerks III (dir. Kevin Smith).

We return back to the View Askewniverse and the Quick Stop convenience store for a wildly masturbatory (and reflectively fitting) finale looking back at the Clerks trilogy. Essentially a hundred-minute therapy session based on Smith’s own real-life heart attack, Dante and Randall are sort of artificially put back in stasis after the genuinely heartfelt ending of Clerks II. We then witness the nearly fifty-year-old characters revisit their lives by recreating various scenes shot-for-shot from the 1994 original film with many of the same extras. Still, it’s hard not to genuinely tear up at the thirty-year journey of two caustic best friends aging terribly somewhere in New Jersey.

Screened at the Rio Theatre on The Convenience Tour.

[thameenahallaldeen-mga2024mi4017]

Warm up exercise.

Focus on :

1. World building.

2. Sound design.

3. Cinematography - particular use of camera in film

Since Yunus is absent me and Sayaka will be doing this activity. Sayaka will take world building, I'll take cinematography and we'll share sound design.

Introduction of Marla

World building ->

She interrupts his..... hugging session. (Bro was already gay)

Therapy sessions. Heterotopia. He goes to therapy sessions to seek validation.

She did not have testicular cancer. She's smoking. He calls her out for being fake. "Her lie reflected my lie."

Sound design ->

Subtle music, quiet, the guide's words are prominent and clear then there's a reverb in the cave scene as it is amplified.

But when Marla is introduced the sounds in his head is replaced by her lighting up the lighter - bomb ticking (repetitive).

Cinematography->

Close up centered shot of narrator. Close up centered shot of his spirit animal. Focus is on himself at this point in comparison to when he's with Tyler.

Character is either always in the center of the frame or on the points of the rule of thirds grid.

Feedback for the presentation:

Stream of consciousness.

5 minute video.

Author vs director.

Why the adaptation happened.

What is fight club. When it was adapted. Inspiration. Main themes. This is the film, era, psychological things presented.

What does the film do that the book can't? What does the book do that the film can't? Nudist beach. Murder of Marla's mother. I wonder why these weren't included. Were they too extreme. Film has to worry about being too graphic/triggering?

[fieldspaintedgold]

journal entry 8000000000

I don't know if it's my hormones, bc I did my shot this morning and am for some reason bleeding, or if its because this is the first day off I've had entirely alone, or if its mental illness or what.

I just needed to fucking write and writing in the physical journal makes my hand hurt and takes so long that i end up overthinking things. I'm not even overthinking right now, im just so sad?

I've been doing chores all day. Went to the office to figure some shit out. I've been fine all day, i've been fine for a while now except for small cry sessions here and there obviously.

I realized about ten minutes ago for the first time in my life without someone having to tell me that I'm going through terrible depression. Literally nothing sounds interesting to me, idk if its just now or if its been like that for a long time. Maybe that's why I'm so codependent, bc literally nothing is interesting to me unless it is to someone else. Thats fucking terrible. I dont know who the fuck i am because of codependent depression.

I try to keep myself busy but thats all it is is keeping busy, distracting myself from the weight of not knowing what the fuck to do with myself while im alone. tv isnt interesting at all and it doesnt help that i have the actual attention span of a pine nut recently. I made legos the other night and it was fun-ish and i like the outcome but i havent finished them bc im just not interested. I have no drive to create anything.

I've been trying to look for things to make my apartment reflect who i feel like i am way deep inside. I look around my apartment and i wonder who lives there, because I dont feel like I should be the one that does. I feel like its all wrong. I listen to the music ive always listened to and it feels wrong. everything just feels wrong and i dont know how much better i could describe it.

I feel so lost.

I'm trying so fucking hard. I'm trying to get back to myself and remember who I am but i dont think ive genuinely ever in my life known who i am and trying to figure that out is terrifying. not scary in a sense that i dont want to, but scary in a sense that like how the fuck have i never known?

everyone keeps telling me to find a hobby. thats great. but i cant find joy in literally anything no matter how hard i try. i dont enjoy being in my apartment like i thought i would after a month. i know. give it time. but how much time is it going to take? as long as it takes. that sucks.

i just want to feel at least the same sense of whatever normal was before. not in a "my life is the exact same" kind of way, but like i had control of my life. like i knew what was going on and was at peace with things. good, at least.

I feel like im just pretending. Maybe i am just pretending. but i want to not have to do that. i want to actually mean it when i say "im good, how're you?". I want to not feel like the only thing that works inside of me is my heart, because its all i can feel. constantly. it has highs, when i feel love, and it has lows, when i feel the absence. but thats all im feeling. otherwise i'm completely hollow, like im an outline of a person and thats all there is to me. like people can see and pass right through me without a thought. like im just existing in this apartment with no real purpose or meaning. and i think im experiencing depression for real for the first time, which is silly because i've been depressed since i was 12. this is the first time ive really felt it and not had someone to tell me to force myself out of it.

im trying to force myself out of it though. because i dont know what else to do, all i do is sit here and distract and feel and maybe go to a friends house or my sisters to distract some more bc i have to pretend like i'm okay in front of other people, even those i love.

i really need my health insurance to start so i can go to therapy. i need someone to help because today has felt helpless, today has felt like i cant fucking do this, today has felt like i dont even know if i want to. i'm not gonna do anything stupid bc i'm terrified of death but this feeling is so overwhelming and i'm so tired.

and i feel like i cant tell anyone that im feeling like this because the person that makes me feel safe that i want to talk to about it wants me to learn to fix things for myself and i dont want other people to worry and i dont want to go back to springwoods. i cant go back there.

I've always said "its getting bad again" to signify that I'm starting to feel like 2016 again. but i think its bad again already. i dont feel good.

[puppylifejournal]

Two weeks before I move out from my parents for the first time.

It's currently 6:35AM for me. I haven't slept yet, and I have physical therapy in less than 6 hours now.

I likely would recover a lot quicker if I actually did my exercises outside of physical therapy sessions. I don't. I can't get myself to. I spend 30 dollars every session and have made slower progress than I could have. That thought hurts.

I won't be going to physical therapy once I move, and it'll save me around 135 dollars a month on average. If I cut it down to 2 sodas a day, I'll save around 150. If I eat out less, I'll save somewhere around 100 to 200. These will all be painfully difficult changes.

I'll need to cut myself off from something I like during a stressful time, I'll need to force myself to cook, I'll need to do exercises myself.

Even further, I'll need to do weightlifting, and even using the rowing machine I got and have used all of once. I feel useless and stupid, and I hope I can get myself to do all of that.

It's so impossible to predict any and all changes that could possibly and will happen to me after the move. I'll be alone for a month in a town I've been to all of once for less than two hours. I'd ask why I do this to myself but that would be a disingenuous question. I want to escape, and I want to do it now. I force things once the idea gets in my head, and this time I had the support and resources to force it through and actually have a decent shot at it going well.

I feel numb.

My stupid weird migraine issues keep happening, but maybe less so. It's a process of small good decisions often, which I suck at most of the time but have gotten better at recently due to Rosie.

I really love her and she has helped me in ways I won't understand fully for years if ever.

I've slept terribly for several days and now I'm eating the consequences. I must have played Minecraft for 8 hours today. I fucking hate myself sometimes. I might make a video out of it to justify this clearly avoidant behavior and it'll probably perform well, and that will probably reinforce that I can turn my stupid fucking immaturity into art forever and never need to grow so long as I can pretend I'm self reflecting.

I make slop disguised as proper art and when I make something good it does notably worse. My most popular video is the one that appeals to fucking nostalgia, and I bank on that constantly in my other videos too. I didn't change at all, I just make better dribble for the common denomenator to play on their second monitor to feel like they're being stimulated. Folding Ideas talked about everything I did 6 years before I did it. I can never catch up to the curve, I can just copy people I like and hide it as something original. And yet, despite my anxiety, I'll almost certainly be able to do this for years. I'll be stunted as a person and monetize it, even if I do grow I'll turn my old self into a static personality to use for profit since multiple parts of my true self don't appeal widely.

I want to make that Minecraft video as a punishment for anyone who watches me. I want them to be exposed to something so raw that they feel gross for engaging in it. I want them to feel like they're participating in my suffering. I don't even know why.

I've wasted another 17 minutes writing this. I'll get even less sleep. I need to call so many fucking people and places tomorrow. I might have to fill out stupid forms. It'll be slow and boring and I will sit there unable to do anything else. How stupid. How pointless.

If the test strips show as clear when I go to the apartment, I won't believe it. I know I won't. I didn't trust the pipes at the rental home. I didn't even remember that until recently because I push every little thing down. I disgust myself.

For this video I'm gonna write and talk like Folding Ideas because I watched hours of his stuff recently. That's what I do. The video will probably do well. What a fucking joke.

[thelensofyashunews]

NEMZZZ DOESN’T STOP DROPPING NEW SINGLE ‘WYA’ AHEAD OF WIRELESS PERFORMANCE THIS JULY

Manchester’s Nemzzz doesn’t stop, marking his return on Thursday 20th June with fiery new single ‘WYA’. Nemzzz’s ascent is truly unmatched, appearing earlier this month at Nicki Minaj’s sold-out record-breaking show at Manchester’s Co-op Live, following his debut mixtape drop in March that landed to critical acclaim and a spot at #17 in the UK album charts.

Continuing a release schedule that will give you whiplash, ‘WYA’ matches sharp, tongue-in-cheek wordplay and self-assured bars with producer Zel’s rolling, relaxed beat laced with bouncy vocal chops. The single arrives today with a video shot by Nemzzz’s go-to production powerhouse DonProd chronicling summer in Manchester; splicing footage of Nemzzz playing ‘ball with relaxed home studio sessions, FIFA with mates and late-night Chinese takeaway runs.

‘WYA’ follows the cinematic mixtape-chaser ‘ATM’, a cut brimming with icy industrial production and playful adlibs. The single landed in May to acclaim from The Face, NME, Complex UK, TRENCH + more. Nemzzz wrapped his sell-out second headline tour last month, hitting stages in Dublin, Glasgow, London (with a surprise drop in from K-Trap) and a homecoming show featuring Central Cee at Manchester Academy - Nemzzz’s biggest show to date in the city. Nemzzz will be returning to Wireless Festival this summer and has a sold-out EU tour set for this October and will embark on his first tour of AUS+NZ later this year - dates below.

Nemzzz’s debut mixtape DO NOT DISTURB landed in March to critical acclaim from the NME, The Observer, Fader, CRACK and HYPEBEAST alongside a slew of support from the likes of Spotify, Soundcloud, Apple Music, Amazon Music and YouTube Music. Over the course of the campaign the mixtape was spun across BBC Radio 1 with multiple singles topping the A List at 1Xtra, since launch the tape has racked up over 160M+ streams and has maintained a spot in the top 200 official albums chart. The 11-track tape is Nemzzz’s most expansive drop to date, an exploration of how the young artist is shaped by his upbringing and his fame. Marrying bars laced with Nemzzz’s wicked sense of humour, earworm hooks and a raw soulful-drill production - DO NOT DISTURB cemented Nemzzz’s status as the new titan of UK Rap. Nemzzz surprised fans the week after release, unveiling the Deluxe version featuring collaborations with rap heavyweights Lil Yachty, Headie One and K-Trap. 

Nemzzz is one of the most exciting breakout rap talents of recent years. Since bursting onto the scene at the tender age of 14, Nemzzz has relentlessly chipped away at his craft – building steady buzz amongst the industry, media and fans alike. An old head on young shoulders, Nemzzz helps his young fans navigate their way through growing pains. The rapper is shaped by his tough upbringing in Gorton, using his music to reflect on his experiences including heartbreak, fake friends, financial literacy, finding your own path, and managing mental health amid social media addiction.

2023 was a massive year for the young star with a consistent slate of releases including his debut EP Nemzzz Type Beat (which was pulled together in just 17 days in a flex of his innate talents) alongside a string of singles including ‘Therapy’ and ‘8AM IN MANNY’ which landed to props from some of the biggest rappers in the world - Drake and Lil Yachty. Last year saw Nemzzz deliver his first sold-out headline tour alongside performances at festivals including Glastonbury, Ibiza Rocks and more. With over 180M combined streams in 2023, 9 Million TikTok views, tips including BBC Radio 1xtra's Hot For 2023, Amazon Music x Hunger Magazine Ones To Watch, No Signal Class of ’23, Best Newcomer Nominee MOBO Awards 2022, plaudits from Pitchfork, The Face, DAZED, The Guardian, HYPEBEAST, CLASH, Complex UK and NME - Nemzzz is making serious moves.