#we finally dig into real consequences

[chuluoyi]

i love your comedy and fluff! but my masochistic heart is itching for more angst to fluff for gojo🥲 and i have this brainrot ever since i read "baby", "protect" and "wife": childbirth gone wrong, that's why he is sooo concerned about your wellbeing during your maternity leave~

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 09:45 P.M 」

tw: childbirth. there are two very same ask for this now and so that's the cue for me to practice my crack/angst more :3 okay this is basically an extended version of protect's epilogue and oh, it's a happy ending! mini sequel -> 11.10 p.m

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re always doing whatever you want! ow!”

“deep breaths, sweets. deep brea—”

“easy for you to say! you don't contribute anything other than shoving that damn stick into me! and now i’m left with the consequences!”

“i kindly remind you that you very much enjoyed my stick that night—”

“i hate you!”

satoru looked at your tear-streaked face and patted you in the head—his notable love language, erupting into laughter. “of course you do.”

lying on the hospital bed, tears welled up in your eyes as you roasted your husband and your contractions kept getting closer together. three hours after you woke up to your labor pains, all you could feel was that you were ready to burst.

gripping his hand tight, you purposefully dig your nails in just to spite him. “i’m serious. i hate you. you’re not putting me up for this again!”

“you say that now, but the moment we are home, those words are going to be null and void,” satoru snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood, ignoring the slight pain you inflicted on him, because what was this compared to what you were going through?

but his facade dropped as soon as breath was knocked out of you and you whimpered. he instantly gathered you in his arms.

“hey, hey... take deep breaths...” when you did, he planted a tender kiss on your damp forehead. “that's it, there you go... the baby's going to be here real soon, okay?”

you panted, limp in his hold as dull pain overwhelmed you. “yeah... your baby.”

“our baby, love. not just mine,” he corrected, smiling. he had one hand on your swollen belly, palming the subtle firmness, and gently rubbing it. “our munchkin.”

“i’m just the container though.”

“heh, no,” he chuckled softly. “you're everything.” his eyes crinkled affectionately, a hint of laughter still in his voice, and your heart actually melted when he whispered: “my everything.”

truthfully, despite your bravado, you were scared shitless. yet, as you nestled your head against your husband's strong chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his reassuring heartbeat, and when you gazed into his eyes, you were sure, because he exuded confidence as if he had no doubts that this was going to go perfectly fine.

and so holding onto him you did. he held your hand through it all, talked you through your pain, and you were so, so grateful to have him by your side.

the next hour was a blur, as excruciating pain blinded your senses. you were wailing when everyone told you to push, and you gave it your all. you kept it up even as you felt like being torn apart.

and before you knew it, cries unlike any other, ones you had only imagined until that moment, echoed through the room.

“he's here!” satoru's hitched voice reached your ears, and you went slack, falling back to the sheets.

you were completely spent and all you could register was that the cherished baby both you and satoru had been waiting for was here. you shivered, your mind tuning in and out—lightheaded, wondering why you felt so drenched down there.

“holy shit! i can't believe it! i can’t—” if you were awake enough, you would realize that it was one of the rarest times when satoru was choked with emotions. he turned to you. “i—”

and suddenly you felt strange. an eerie chill seemed to engulf your entire being. your hand slipped from satoru's grasp as your vision dimmed, the world growing darker.

“are you okay? hey—” his voice sounded distant, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. satoru finally realized that something was wrong, as his six eyes discerned the rapid dwindling of your cursed energy, and the room reeked of the tangy scent of blood.

you barely made out the nurse's shouting next. “blood pressure is dropping!”

"come on!" now he was utterly panicked and tried to get a hold of you, shaking you slightly. “hey, stay awake—look at me, i’m right here, please—”

but to his horror, your head lolled back as you lost your consciousness. soon, he was thrown out of the delivery room. just like that, in one sick twist, his world was crumbling down hard and fast.

a sense of helplessness washed over him as he stood outside the room, barred from being by your side. inside, you were bleeding out, and he was unable to do anything but wait.

didn't he say he would protect you with everything he had? once again, gojo satoru was humbled—not everything was in his grasp. he couldn't save those chosen by fate not to be saved.

suddenly, it felt like suguru all over again, except the stakes were higher. he shuddered—his fist clenched so hard that it drew blood, while his other hand clutched his chest, desperately willing the searing pain away.

would he really lose you this way? the sheer thought made his ears ring. no fucking way. even hell knows he'd go berserk. would fate really let him decimate anything in his path? surely, no... right?

he was unaware that he had been murmuring these silent prayers when the doors slid open, revealing the doctor who had been assisting with your delivery earlier with the news. it was a case of a postpartum hemorrhage, she said, an unfortunate incident.

all things considered, you were going to be okay. that knowledge alone was enough to make him breathe freely once more.

when he was allowed to see you, the moment your eyes blinked open, the first thing he did was burying his head in the crook of your neck.

and there you have it—the first time you had ever seen him really shaken to the point of shedding tears.

“you scared me,” he rasped, voice thick with emotion. “i—i can't stop thinking— if you really left me—”

“i’m fine now...” you were somewhat wonderstruck by the knowledge that you had this potent hold over him. oblivious to how your soft voice calmed the depths of his soul, you stroked his hair, and he breathed in your scent, grateful to every force imaginable for returning you back to him.

“sleep,” he gently pulled away, his eyes rimmed with red, his fingers caressing your cheek. “you need it. i’ll be here when you wake up, i promise.”

“the baby—”

“they just cleaned him up. he's resting too,” satoru reassured with an impossibly tender smile, and his next words made your heart lurch.

“my strong girl, you did it. you're a mother now… thank you. thank you... for making me the father to our child.”

you felt like you might burst into tears. you felt so loved, so secure, even after you went through the most challenging ordeal in your life. and as you drifted to your rest, you could hear the love of your life whisper in your ear ever so lovingly—

“i know i have said it before, but i’ll say it again. with everything it is that i have, i swear to you, nothing will befall you and our baby, for i will spare nothing and give everything for both of you... even my own life.”

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

[cringefailvox]

overlord husk aus are very interesting to me in part because they present such a radically different vision of the huskerdust dynamic that is very compelling to me. present-day husk and angel are exhausted. these are people genuinely at rock bottom, who have been so worn down and chipped away at by the long, dragging stalemate of their circumstances that they have nothing left to give but their bare minimum selves. which is okay, and it's enough for them; a lot of what makes their dynamic so interesting is that it's about two people at their lowest rediscovering what it feels like to not be alone down there, to even begin thinking about the possibility of climbing out of the deep dark hole they've made their peace with now that they won't be doing it by themselves.

in contrast, overlord husk aus imagine a version of husk and angel before they were losers together. they imagine versions of them that haven't been beaten down all the way just yet: husk at the height of his greed and power and reckless addictions, angel riding the high of his stardom while adamantly refusing to peel back the surface and acknowledge the rot. both of them still digging the hole and saying to themselves, "i've got a ladder, i'm not going to get stuck. i can always climb back out."

and having these two meet at this stage in their lives, i think they would really, really not make each other better. husk's consideration for the souls on his chain had to have been close to zero for him to use them as gambling chips the way he did, especially the recklessly self-destructive way he did that ended with his own soul in alastor's pocket. and i imagine that for a long time, angel lived in total willful denial about val's escalating abuse and the toll his increasingly demanding job was taking on him, because acknowledging it would be tantamount to making it real, making it something that could actually hurt him and not just be rationalized away, and so of course he'd put off doing that for as long as he could.

if husk had actually won angel's soul, it wouldn't have been any different from all the other people he traded back and forth across his table just for the illicit thrill of the game. angel probably would've had a whole sunk-cost freakout about it (what was the point of all that pain and suffering and lack of autonomy if all the consequences are coming from a stranger now and not val? when it isn't personal? and now he can't even claim a little bit of power back by saying he chose it, because he didn't.) angel knows full well what it looks like when someone is going to kill themselves with their addictions, but what obligation does he have to the guy who would just as quick give him up to somebody else if it gave him an adrenaline rush? nothing, that's what, and he has enough of his own problems anyway.

crucially, they're both INCREDIBLY self-absorbed. not even in a conceited or vain way, but just in that they're so wrapped up in their own mess that they can't see beyond it, they don't have any space for empathy, and furthermore, they have no reason to even try.

it's why the version of their dynamic we get in canon works so well—they're in the same place now, at just the right time to finally start opening up their worlds to how they affect other people (angel watching charlie interact with val at the studio; husk being forced by alastor to engage with the hotel's residents as the bartender). there's space for empathy in their lives now, because they've finally been brought so low that they can't hide anymore, can't look away, can't deny how completely and totally fucked they are. it's a kind of brutal honesty that can only really come from confronting your absolute worst-case scenario. but for them to even begin connecting with each other in any authentic sense, they needed to have the ladder taken away so they could finally bring themselves to stop digging, look up, and realize there's been someone down here with them all along.

[toruro]

hi :3 i've been extremely feral abt joshua lately so:

i think he'd be the type of bf who'll tease his needy s/o. like when you're obviously trying to work him up, he just smiles at you and says some shit like "you can wait until we get home. right, baby?"

and then when he finally gives you what you want, he doesn't hold anything back until you're crying and begging him like shua, please hold on a sec— but he's having none of it bc "aw, but you asked for this, didn't you?"

anyway (kisses u) love u and ur writing always <3 i've been ghostreading so many on the side that i felt really bad and had to let you know how much i enjoy ur stuff through an ask >:'(

take (all of it)

pairing. h. joshua x reader tags. smut, dom shua, teasing a/n. kai wtf...... WTF!!! im barking also >_< THANK YOIMDJ I LOVE U U N UR WRITING THAT MEANS A LOT TO ME c:

all joshua told you in the car was to get yourself ready because once you two got home, he wouldn't waste a second. you half believed him, half didn't, and now you realize that that was a dangerous mistake.

you worked yourself up to two fingers in the passenger seat, joshua only watching you from the corner of his vision with a sickly sweet smile. you thought he would help you out once you got home—joshua knew your poor fingers weren't nearly as thick as his, couldn't reach nearly as deep as his when they curled into all the right spots.

but you were testing your luck the entire night, and you should've known that joshua wouldn't let you slide without facing the consequences.

which is how you end up with your ass propped on a pillow, back against your mattress, one hand gripping at joshua's bicep while the other tangles in the sheets. he's prodding his fat tip at your hole and your bottom lip puffs out into a pout.

"josh—joshie," you murmur our his nickname in hopes that it'll soothe the mean glint in his eyes. you should know better. joshua's been waiting for this, and he hasn't even stuck it in yet—you'd be stupid think the he'll cave already.

"you asked for this baby," he warns, slamming his cock deep inside you in one go. the stretch wracks a sob through your body, legs flailing and nails digging into his skin at both the overwhelming pain and pleasure.

he's just so huge and he's hitting all the right spots but then again, your poor little pussy can only take so much. "shua, h-hold on," you cry out, as he pulls his hips back.

"huh?" he coos, snapping his cock back into you, causing you to shut your eyes tight and moan loudly as your body jerks against the bed. "you don't want my cock?"

"no!" you protest. "want your cock so bad joshie," you confess, "just want you to slow down a li'l..."

joshua's eyes crinkle up, and his hand grips your hip so tight you know he'll have bruises. "aw, but baby," he murmurs with a faux pout on his lips. you're looking up at him with these puppy eyes and flushed cheeks and fuck, he doesn't know how he can ever hold himself back when he fucks you, "you asked for this, didn't you? all night, right?"

"b-but—"

"don't be a brat," joshua warns when you even attempt to argue, and you shut your mouth real tight, a muffled cry escaping your lips as he continues to ruthlessly fuck into you. he looks down at your cunt and the growing wetness that's creaming his cock, and he has to such in a breath so his eyes don't roll to the back of his head. "needy girl ... you're just gonna take whatever i give you, huh?"

[eunseoksimp]

PLS PLS PLS we NEEEED a part 3 where she finally realises how manipulative he is and finally lets go 😩🙏🙏

your wish is my command anon. a couple of people requested for a part three, so i hope this doesn't disappoint. this is the final part of the series (something i never intended to make in the first place :)

synopsis: a poignant exploration of secrecy and infidelity, where you finds yourself trapped in a tumultuous relationship with a man you deeply love, yet who views you merely as the object of his desires. delving into the intricate emotions and heartache that arise from such a dynamic, painting a tragic picture of a woman who elevates a mortal man to the status of a god, only to face the devastating consequences of your misplaced reverence.

Pairing:Toxic! Park Wonbin x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warning: wonbin is being the worst person alive yet again, extreme levels of manipulation and gaslighting, strong language, brief description of sex, small mention of depression and suicide towards the end, reader still being delusional, 20k word count!

part 1 — part 2

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the night air outside was crisp, a sharp contrast to the heavy, suffocating atmosphere in wonbin's apartment. you lay curled under his sheets, the fabric cool against your skin, but offering no real comfort. the weight of the decision you had made last night pressed down on you like a stone, rendering you almost immobile. you stare at the ceiling, the room bathed in shadows that seemed to stretch and twist like the thoughts in your mind.

your phone lay abandoned on the nightstand, its screen dark. you couldn't bear to turn it on, to face the barrage of messages from your friends, especially from donghyuck. the disappointment  you saw in their eyes at the party haunted you, their silent pleas and furrowed brows etched into your memory. you imagined their texts, each one a dagger of concern and bewilderment, a reminder of how you had let them down.

wonbin's voice drifted through the fog of your thoughts, a low and persistent murmur. he was saying something, his tone smooth and convincing, but the words barely registered. they washed over you like a cold, relentless tide, each wave pulling you deeper into a sea of numbness. you felt detached, as if you were floating above yourself, watching this sad, broken version of you trying to make sense of the choices you had made.

‘you know you belong here,’ wonbin said, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. his touch was gentle, almost tender, but it felt like ice against your skin. ‘they don't understand you like i do. they never will.’

you wanted to protest, to argue, to say anything intelligible to him, but your throat felt tight, voice lost somewhere in the haze of regret and guilt. instead, you closed your eyes, trying to block out his words, but they seeped in anyway, like smoke curling through the cracks of your resolve.

‘you’re better off without them,’ he continued, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. ‘they hold you back. with me, you can be your true self.’

each word was a hook, digging into your already fragile heart. you knew he was manipulating you, twisting the truth to keep you close, but you were too exhausted to fight it. the numbness was easier, a blanket of indifference that protected you from the sharper edges of reality.

pulling the sheets tighter around yourself,  you seek solace in his embrace even as it stifled you. the room felt like a cage, the walls closing in with every passing moment. you wished you could turn back time, undo the choices that had led you here, but the past was a chain that bound you to this present, inescapable and unyielding.

in the silence that followed, broken only by the distant hum of the city outside, you felt the sting of tears. they welled up, blurring your vision, but you refused to let them fall. crying would mean acknowledging the depth of your despair, and you weren't ready for that. not yet.

instead, you lay there, a prisoner of your own making, caught between the regret of last night and the fear of what tomorrow would bring. wonbin's words continued to weave their insidious spell, deep down, beneath the layers of guilt and numbness.

for now, you let the numbness take over, let the darkness of the room and the weight of the sheets shield you from the pain.

‘i know it's hard,’ wonbin murmured, his voice a velvet trap, soothing yet suffocating. ‘but you have to trust me. we're meant to be together. they can't give you what i can.’

your mind flashed to donghyuck, his kind eyes full of worry, his voice a beacon of sanity in the chaotic storm of your life. but that light felt so distant now, obscured by the fog of wonbin's influence.

‘stop thinking about them, focus on me instead. not everyone understands us.’

‘you don't understand,’ you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. ‘they care about me. they want what's best for me."

‘and so do i,’ wonbin insisted, his tone sharpening slightly. ‘but they can't see the real you. they don't know your struggles, your pain. i do. i see you.’

‘i bet you still haven’t told anyone else about that night.’

his words were a double-edged sword, cutting through your defenses yet binding you closer to him. you felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his belief in his own twisted version of love. it was intoxicating, this dark allure that promised understanding and acceptance, even as it isolated you from the people who truly cared.

‘please,’ you whispered, a plea more to yourself than to him. ‘i just need time.’

‘time won't change anything,’ he said softly, his fingers continuing their hypnotic dance on your arm. ‘but I'm here for you, always.’

wonbin's voice broke through the silence once more, softer now, almost a whisper. ‘stay with me. here, you don't have to pretend. here, you're free.’

free. the word echoed in your mind, a bitter irony. his definition of freedom was a gilded cage, a place where you could be yourself only if that self conformed to his desires and expectations. yet, in your current state, the illusion of freedom seemed more bearable than the harsh reality awaiting you outside these walls.

‘i.. i don't know,’ you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible. the words felt foreign, as if they belonged to someone else. someone stronger.

‘we'll figure it out together,’ he promised, his hand now resting on your shoulder, a weight that felt both grounding and suffocating. ‘trust me.’

trust. another word tainted by the complexities of your relationship. you wanted to trust him, to believe that he had your best interests at heart. but the undercurrent of control and manipulation was too strong to ignore.

you sighed, a sound filled with a mixture of acceptance and despair. ‘okay,’ you whispered, more to yourself than to him. ‘we'll figure it out.’

and with that, you closed your eyes, allowing the darkness to envelop you once more, seeking a momentary escape from the labyrinth of your emotions.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the late afternoon sun cast a muted light over the city as wonbin's car finally pulled up outside your apartment. the building loomed like a sanctuary and a prison all at once, its familiar facade a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within you. you felt hollow, a shell of the person you had been just a few days ago. as you stepped out of the car, the weight of wonbin's influence clung to you like a shroud.

he leaned out of the window, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. ‘remember what i said baby,’ he murmured, his voice smooth and insidious. ‘no one understands you like i do,’ his words echoed in your mind, a dark mantra you couldn’t seem to shake, while you’re left watching him drive away.

your feet felt leaden as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, the hallway stretching before you like an endless tunnel. each step felt like a struggle, the decision you had made two nights ago weighing heavily on her heart. when you finally pushed open the door, the sight that greeted you sent a jolt through your numbed senses.

yunjin was there, pacing the living room with a stormy expression, and mark sat on the couch, his face a mix of worry and determination. the air crackled with tension, a stark contrast to the dull numbness you had been wrapped in.

‘finally,’ yunjin said, her voice sharp as a knife, slicing through the silence. ‘do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? you just disappeared, and now you show up like nothing happened?’

you flinched at yunjin’s words, the guilt hitting you hard and you hung your head in shame. your friend's frustration washing over you like icy water, but it barely penetrated the fog of your mind. you knew yunjin was right, but the web wonbin had spun around you was so tight, so suffocating, that you could barely think straight.

‘i… i didn’t plan to,’ you murmured, voice barely audible as you wrapped your arms around yourself, seeking some semblance of comfort. ‘he… he just… i don’t know what to say yunjin.’

yunjin’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desperation. ‘this isn’t you, ‘ she said, her voice rising. ‘you’re not the person who lets him control you like this anymore. we’ve been through this before, and you got out! why are you letting him drag you back?’

mark stood up, his calm presence a counterpoint to yunjin’s fervor, aiming to ease the tension. he stepped closer, his gaze gentle but firm. ‘we’re here for you,’ he said softly. ‘wonbin’s a terrible person, he’ll destroy you.’’

you looked at him, feeling the weight of their concern pressing down on you. the words that had been hammered into your mind over the past two days surfaced like an automatic response, a defense mechanism you couldn’t quite shake. ‘he’s the only one who can love me,’ you whispered, the phrase dripping with the poison wonbin had fed you.

yunjin’s face fell, her eyes widening with a mix of shock and sorrow. ‘no,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘that’s not true, you know that’s not true. we love you. donghyuck loves you. you don’t need him. you don’t need park wonbin.’

but the numbness was too thick, the web too tangled. you felt like a marionette, strings pulled by a master manipulator who knew exactly which buttons to press. yunjin looked at mark, her frustration giving way to worry, her hands shaking as she tried to hold back tears.

mark reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. ‘it’s going to be okay,’ he said, though the uncertainty in his eyes belied his words. ‘we’ll get through this together.’

yunjin nodded, wiping at her eyes. ‘you’re not alone,’ she repeated, her voice firmer now. ‘we’ll help you untangle from him, even if it takes time. but you have to believe us, that you really don’t need him. you have to believe in yourself.’

you wanted to believe them, to feel the warmth of their support seep into the cold void within you. but the echoes of wonbin’s manipulation were still too loud, drowning out the voices of reason and love. you sank onto the couch, curling into a ball as if to shield yourself from the overwhelming reality.

yunjin's frustration simmered just below the surface, her voice rising again as she stepped closer, her presence a mixture of fierce protectiveness and desperation. 

‘look at me,’ she demanded, her voice trembling. ‘look at what he's doing to you. this isn't love, it's control. he's manipulating you, making you think you're nothing without him. but that's not true. you're so much more than he says you are.’

the words struck a chord deep within you, a faint spark of resistance flickering in the depths of your soul. but the numbness was overpowering, a dense fog that obscured your thoughts and dulled your senses. you closed your eyes, trying to block out the world, but yunjin's voice cut through the haze.

mark sat beside you, yunjin on the other side, his hand gently resting on your back, a steady anchor in the storm. ‘we're not giving up on you,’ he said quietly. ‘no matter how long it takes, we'll be here. you don't have to fight this alone.’

your eyes open, tears blurring your vision as you looked at the two people who cared for you more than anything. the love in their eyes was a stark contrast to the cold manipulation you had endured from wonbin. it was overwhelming, the intensity of their concern, their unwavering support.

but the poison of wonbin's words still lingered, a dark cloud that loomed over your heart. ‘he's the only one who can love me, the only one who still wants me,’ you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, the phrase feeling like a shield against the reality you weren't ready to face.

yunjin's shoulders slumped, the realization dawning on her that this battle wouldn't be easy. she exchanged a worried glance with mark, the weight of the situation settling heavily on them both. they had seen you like this before, trapped in the web of wonbin's deceit, and they knew how hard it would be to pull you free.

but they also knew your strength, even if you had forgotten it. they had seen you fight your way out once, and they believed you could do it again.

yunjin knelt in front of you, taking your hands in her own, her touch warm and grounding. ‘we'll get through this,’ she said softly, her voice filled with determination. ‘one step at a time. we'll remind you of who you are, of how much you're loved. and we'll help you see the truth, even if it takes time.’

all you could do was hold on to the faint glimmer of hope that their love and support could one day help you break free from wonbin's grasp. as you lay there, wrapped in the cocoon of their concern and their arms,  you felt trapped between two worlds—the dark, insidious pull of wonbin’s influence and the bright, hopeful promise of your friends’ unwavering support. it was a battle you wasn’t sure you had the strength to fight, but nevertheless clung to the faintest glimmer of hope allowing yourself to feel a flicker of gratitude, a small light in the overwhelming darkness.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

wonbin's presence lingered like a ghost, haunting every corner of your life. from the moment you woke up, the shadows of his influence clung to you, whispering reminders of the control he held over you. 

he was the one who picked you up for college, his car a cage of false comfort, its leather seats cold and unwelcoming. he was the one who dropped you home, his eyes constantly watching for any sign of disobedience. he demanded hours-long conversations on the phone, his voice a chain that bound you tighter with every word.

it had been two weeks since the party, a week since you had felt anything resembling happiness. every morning was a chore, and you felt like you were wading through a thick fog, your reflection in the mirror a distant, unfamiliar face. the vibrant person who had began to surface not too long ago was now buried under layers of guilt and manipulation. you couldn't shake the feeling that everyone you knew hated you, thoughts of donghyuck weighing down on you heavily. the gestures wonbin normally did—buying you gifts, taking you to restaurants—no longer brought the giddy excitement they once did. now, they felt hollow, empty rituals that failed to stir you.

‘what’s up with you?’ wonbin asked, his voice cutting through your reverie as he pulled up to the front of the college building. his tone was sharp, eyes narrowing as he studied you. he wasn’t pleased with how ungrateful you had been acting, how distant you had become. you no longer fawned over everything he did, no longer showered him with the adoration he demanded.

you shrugged in response, unable to summon the energy for words. leaning over the console, you gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. ‘i’ll see you this afternoon,’ you said, voice flat and devoid of emotion. wonbin’s eyes, sharp and unreadable, followed you as you adjusted the strap of your tote bag on your shoulder, turning away from the car.

the morning sun, bright yet indifferent, cast long shadows that seemed to elongate your already heavy stride. the walk from the parking lot to the main campus building felt interminable, the path lined with meticulously trimmed hedges and vibrant flowerbeds seemingly mocking in its serenity. how could everything look so perfect whilst inside of you was a maelstrom of confusion and guilt?

students milled about, the campus alive with the usual morning energy of chattering, with laughter ringing out and conversations filling the air. yet to you, the scene was muffled, distorted by the haze of your own disquiet. it was as if a veil of grey had descended over the vibrant colours of the world, dulling every sound and every sight. you moved around like the world like a ghost, barely touching it, keenly aware of stares and casual greetings that seemed to float past like distant echoes.

you kept your head down, eyes fixed on the cobblestone path beneath your feet. the burden of your relationship with wonbin, the secrecy, the lies, the manipulation, felt like an iron shackle around your heart. you were a marionette as he held the strings, each pull tightening the noose of deceit. ‘no one will ever love you like i do.’

sighing as you approached the entrance of your lecture hall, the oak doors looming before you like the gates of some ancient fortress, you pushed through them, ignoring the murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of footsteps on the tiled floor as you opted for a seat near the back, hoping to remain inconspicuous.

settling into your chair, the cool hard surface grazing your skin, you listen to the clatter of notebooks and pens being arranged, and how the sounds all dissipated as soon as the lecturer walked in. his voice droned on, a monotone narration that barely registered in your consciousness.

you tried to focus, to anchor yourself to the present moment, but your thoughts were a storm-tossed sea, each wave crashing against the fragile vessel of your sanity, a chaotic whirlpool that was spinning with thoughts of park wonbin. his face flashed in your mind, his smile charming yet sinister, his voice sweet but poisonous. his presence loomed large in your mind, an omnipresent shadow that stretched across every corner of your being. you could feel the weight of his gaze, how the closer you got to him, the more entangled you felt and the more distant you seemed.

why couldn’t you break free from his grasp? what was it about wonbin that rendered you a soulless vessel, awaiting his input into making you come alive again? your mind was a labyrinth of questions, each corridor leading to another dead end. the pen in your hand felt foreign, the notes on your page mere scribbles, devoid of meaning.

when the class ended you were one of the first to get up, gathering your things with mechanical precision before moving through the throng of students.

the day wore on, each class a monotonous blur as the minutes dragged on, each one a tiny eternity as you tried to piece together your scattered thoughts. you had successfully managed to avoid yunjin and mark, the former seemingly not in school today. even though you had seen mark at lunch time, he could only watch with a sad smile as wonbin whisked you away, urging you to eat with him and leaving you with no other option. even donghyuck, who you were used to seeing around almost every corner of the college had only appeared once in the courtyard, his back turned to you as he spoke to one of his roomates, giving you the opportunity to swiftly speed walk in the other direction.

the guilt was a storm of its own within you, its winds whipping you fiercely, leaving you feeling battered and bruised. you missed your friends and you loved them dearly, but it was hard to face them. you had chosen this path, allowing yourself to be drawn into wonbin’s orbit, yet instead of being liberating, the sensation was suffocating. it felt like you had traded your peace for a cage of your own making. 

each interaction with him had once been a thrill, but now every word, every touch was tainted with unease. the realisation was like a cold, hard truth sinking into your chest, its impact echoing through every faucet of your existence.

snapping out of your thoughts, your last class of the day just concluding, you attempted to shake this feeling, instead focusing on how wonbin had invited you to watch his basketball practice, something that he had never let you do before. a small part of you clung to the possibility that this was a sign of change, a step towards something deeper in your tangled relationship. your mind raced as you thought about what it could mean, that perhaps he had finally decided to let you into his world, a flicker of hope that was like a fragile flame in the cavern of your doubt.

you arrived earlier than planned, the doors closed as the sounds of dribbling basketballs and the rhythmic squeak of sneakers on polished wood grew louder. stepping into the dimly lit auditorium with a sense of foreboding. the bright lights of the gymnasium flooded your vision, momentarily blinding you, but as your eyes adjusted, the scene in front of you made your heart plummet into a chasm of disbelief.

there, on the court, wonbin was with ning ning, standing close to her, his posture relaxed and his expression one of playful concentration as he guided her hands on the basketball, helping her aim for the hoop. they were absorbed in their own world, a bubble of intimacy that excluded everyone else. ning ning's laughter rang out, a melodious sound that echoed painfully in your ears.

wonbin's hand lingered on hers a moment longer than necessary, his smile warm and genuine as he leaned in to give her a quick, affectionate kiss, a gesture so casual yet intimate that it made your heart sting and your throat tighten, your legs weakening beneath you. 

your breath caught in your chest, the pain of betrayal wrapping around your heart like a vice, the scene playing on like deja vu. you couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding before you, each moment a new twist of the knife. the sounds of the bouncing ball and their muted voices were a cruel soundtrack to your torment.

you stood frozen, the scene unfolding before you like a cruel movie. the numbness that had settled over you was a heavy blanket, smothering your emotions. you wanted to cry, to scream, but the tears wouldn’t come. you were a spectator in your own life, watching as everything you had feared came true. ning ning’s presence lingered like an unwelcome shadow, her influence casting a persistent, uneasy haze over your relationship.

‘hey, it's been a while since I've seen you,’ shotaro's voice broke through your paralysis, his tone friendly and warm, his cheerful greeting like a jolt, snapping you back to the present. he approached with a bright smile, his enthusiasm genuine, his eyes not yet falling on what you could see. 

wonbin's head turned at the sound of shotaro's voice, his eyes locking onto yours. for a fleeting moment, surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a mask of innocence. he jumped away from ning ning, his movements abrupt and almost comical in their obviousness. his attempt to appear nonchalant was belied by the smirk that began to curl at the corners of his mouth when he realized you weren’t walking away or lashing out.

instead, you forced a smile, directing it at shotaro. ‘yeah, it has,’ you said, your voice surprisingly steady. his smirk deepened, a silent acknowledgement of the power he held over you. he watched as you made your way down to the court, your steps measured and deliberate even though your hands trembled and your stomach churned. he was confident in the knowledge that you wouldn’t confront him. you were back to being the obedient girl he had molded, the one who wouldn't dare challenge him.

you let him pull you close to him as he planted a kiss on your cheek before turning his attention to shotaro as you took your seat on the bench, your body moving on autopilot while your mind was consumed by the image of wonbin and ning ning. the latter drew nearer to you, blissfully unaware of the pain she caused you.

‘hey, it’s good to see you here,’ she greeted you, lowering herself so she could fling her arms around your neck, your stiff body doing nothing to deter her.

‘i’m glad i finally have someone else to sit with.’

the implications of her words, the true meaning hidden behind them that entailed this wasn’t the first time she had come to watch them was enough to accelerate the movement of bile to your throat, barely managing to give her a tight lipped smile.

the rest of the practice was a blur, a nightmarish sequence of events that played out in slow motion. every time wonbin scored, he would glance in your direction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. he winked at you, expecting a reaction, and you forced a smile, your lips stretching painfully as you clapped your hands together. each gesture felt like a betrayal of your own dignity, but you couldn’t muster the strength to do otherwise.

the other players moved around the court, their movements fluid and coordinated, but to you, they were mere shadows, their actions meaningless against the backdrop of your inner turmoil. the sounds of the game, the cheers, and the shouts of encouragement all faded into a dull roar, a cacophony that underscored your isolation.

wonbin's presence was a constant, oppressive weight. his every move seemed calculated to draw your attention, to remind you of his dominance. he was the star of the show, and you were the captive audience, forced to watch as he reveled in his power. each successful shot, each display of skill was a taunt, a reminder of the hold he had over you.

the practice dragged on, each minute an eternity. you were  acutely aware of the eyes on you—shotaro's concerned glances, ning ning's occasional, curious looks, and, most of all, wonbin's constant, predatory gaze. you felt exposed, vulnerable, like a specimen under a microscope, every emotion laid bare for Wonbin's amusement.

finally, the practice ended, and the players gave one last bow to the coach before they began to disperse, their laughter and chatter filling the gymnasium once more.  you stood, your legs shaky, your mind a swirling maelstrom of hurt and betrayal. ning ning approached them with grace, practically floating over as she gave them some words of encouragement.

‘you guys are so good,’ she gushed, giving them a thumbs up as they all secretly marvelled at her effortless beauty. you were transported back to a couple of months ago, you being in the background, a third party in your own relationship as you watched ning ning charm everyone that came upon her path, including wonbin.

they spoke for a while longer whilst you made your way to the exit, your steps unsteady, each one a struggle against the urge to collapse. you had no clue how you would make it back home, given that wonbin was the one now driving you to and from school, but you knew if you didn’t leave now you might collapse. wonbin however intercepted you near the door, his expressions a calculated blend of concern and smugness.

‘hey,’ he said, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. ‘i’'m glad you came. i wanted you to see me in my element.’ you forced a nod, your throat too tight to form words. his eyes searched yours, looking for a crack in your facade, a sign of the devastation he had wrought.

‘give me a second to clean up then we’ll leave.’

like a fool you gave him a final strained smile, rooted in your spot as he left you standing alone to head towards the changing rooms. it wasn’t till he was gone that you let out the breathe you had subconsciously held onto, the feeling of air re-entering your lungs some sort of anchor.

the drive home was silent, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on your chest like a stone. the car hummed along the empty streets, its headlights carving through the darkness in narrow beams. next to you, you could feel his gaze, a searing brand that burned into the side of your face, but you kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead.

the silence between you was thick and oppressive, a tangible fog that dulled your senses and smothered your thoughts. the events of the evening replayed in your mind, each image a fresh stab of pain that reverberated through your entire being. wonbin had invited you to his practice, a gesture that had sparked a fragile hope within you, only to crush it under the weight of his betrayal.

‘are you going to say anything?’ his voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold. his tone was a challenge, a demand for a reaction that you refused to give.

you kept your eyes outside of your window, lips pressed into a thin line. the streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his face, highlighting the hardness in his eyes, the set of his jaw. he was waiting for you to break, to lash out or crumble under the weight of your emotions. but the numbness had settled too deeply, a protective barrier that shielded you from the full brunt of his manipulation.

‘come on, don’t be like this,’ he continued, his voice a mixture of irritation and condescension. ‘it’s not what you think.’

you clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to scream. the lie was so blatant, so casually delivered, that it took your breath away. how many times had he spun his web of deceit, ensnaring you with his charm and false promises? the realization was a bitter pill, its taste acrid and lingering.

‘say something,’ he demanded, his voice rising. ‘i invited you to my practice. I wanted you to see me play, like you’ve always begged me to do. what’s your problem now?’

‘to see what?’ your voice trembled with suppressed emotion. ‘to see you with her? to see how easily you can replace me?’

wonbin’s eyes flashed with anger, the car seemed to close in around you, the space too small to contain the intensity of your confrontation. the tension was palpable, a living thing that thrived on your mutual resentment.

‘you don’t understand,’ he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. ‘ning ning means nothing to me. it was just a bit of fun. you’re the one I care about.’

the words were hollow, empty echoes that rang false in your ears. you turned your attention back to the window, the streetlights blurring into a continuous stream of light and shadow. his attempts at placation only deepened the chasm between you, the fissure that had been growing for so long now a yawning abyss.

‘i didn’t do anything!’ he exclaimed in frustration. ‘you’re overreacting.’

overreacting. the word hung in the air, a toxic reminder of every time he had dismissed your feelings, minimised your pain. how many times he had used that word on you, to make you feel like a fool, as if you were crazy for the things you saw.

the rest of the drive passed in a tense, heavy silence. the city lights gave way to the darkness of the suburbs, the roads winding through quiet neighborhoods. each passing house, with its warm glow of family life, felt like a mockery of your own situation. you yearned for the sanctuary of your room, for the moment you could be alone and let the facade crumble.

when he finally pulled into the driveway of your apartment complex, he killed the engine and sat there, the silence between you thicker than ever. wonbin's hand lingered on yoru leg, his touch a burning brand that you wanted to shake off but couldn't.

‘hey,’ he said softly, his voice a silk trap, ‘you know how much you mean to me. how much i’m trying to make it up to you.’

you turned to face him, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. his eyes were dark, inscrutable pools that promised nothing but more manipulation and pain. ‘yeah,’ you said, your voice barely above a whisper, ‘i know.’

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your cheek, ‘good,’  he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. 

‘let me make it up to you. let’s go out this saturday, just you and me. you would like that, wouldn’t you pretty?’

you nodded mechanically, the numbness spreading like a poison through your veins, ‘yes, i would.’

‘good girl. goodnight my love.’

‘goodnight, wonbin.’

as you got out of the car and watched him drive away you let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you made your way inside. the apartment complex was quiet, the shadows deep and comforting.

the moment you closed the door to your apartment, the tears came, hot and unbidden. you sank to the floor, your body shaking with silent sobs. the image of wonbin and ning ning played over and over in your mind, a cruel, unending loop. the pain was a physical ache, a hollowing out of your chest that left you gasping for breath.

you stayed there for what felt like hours, the darkness of the apartment a welcome cocoon. the facade you had maintained all evening crumbled away, leaving you raw and exposed. the numbness was gone, replaced by a deep, searing pain that burned through your veins. the tears flowed freely, a torrent of pain and frustration that you had held back for too long. your throat burned, your eyes stung, but you couldn’t stop. the emotions poured out, raw and unchecked, each sob a desperate plea for release.

you cried until there were no more tears left, your body exhausted and spent until you eventually pulled yourself up, moving through your apartment like a ghost, each step a monumental effort. making your way to the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the evening. the reflection in the mirror was a stranger, eyes red and swollen, face pale and drawn.

climbing into bed, the sheets were cool and comforting against your skin. the apartment was silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. you stared at the ceiling, the events of the evening playing out in your mind like a twisted movie. his smirk, his touch, the way he had looked at ning ning—each memory was a fresh wound, a reminder of the power he held over you.

sleep was elusive, your mind refusing to quiet. the pain was a constant companion, a throbbing ache that refused to be ignored. you tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around you like a suffocating embrace. 

finally, as the early hours of the morning crept in, exhaustion claimed you, pulling you into its merciful embrace. it was not a restful sleep but a restless, fitful slumber, a tangled web of nightmares and half-formed dreams.

wonbin still plagued your mind, his presence a dark shadow that loomed over you even in sleep. his voice echoed in your ears, his touch lingered on your skin, the haunting remnants of his betrayal echoing through the depths of your restless mind,  a stark reminder that even as sleep claimed you, his shadows would never fully relinquish their hold. 

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the morning sun seeped through the curtains, casting a cold, sterile light across the room. your eyes, swollen and raw from crying, barely registered the brightness. you felt like a hollow shell, your emotions drained, your heart heavy with the weight of regret and sorrow. 

your phone buzzed incessantly beside you, the sound a relentless reminder of the world outside your bubble of despair. yunjin’s name flashed on the screen, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to sink back into the void where you could hide from everything.

but guilt gnawed at you, a persistent ache that wouldn't be ignored. you hadn't faced yunjin since that night, since the look of disappointment and hurt in your friend's eyes had carved a deep wound in your soul. with a trembling hand, you picked up the phone and answered.

‘i’m outside with breakfast. let me in,’ yunjin’s voice was gentle but insistent, leaving no room for refusal.

you glanced at yourself in the mirror, wincing at the sight. your eyes were puffy and red, dark circles marring your complexion. you tried to make yourself look less dead inside, splashing cold water on your face and brushing your hair, but it was futile. the pain was etched too deeply, the sorrow too visible.

with a heavy sigh, you unlocked the door and swung it open. before you could utter a word, yunjin flung herself onto you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. the warmth and care in your friend's embrace was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside. it was too much to bear, and the dam broke once more. you crumbled, sobbing into yunjin’s shoulder, your body shaking with the force of your grief.

mark appeared beside her, his expression a mix of concern and determination. he pulled you both into a hug, his broad frame providing a sturdy support as you cried together. the sound of your sobs filled the small hallway, a symphony of shared pain and sorrow.

inside the house, the silence was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle. you sat on the couch, yunjin and mark flanking you, their presence a lifeline in the sea of despair. you took a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush as you recounted the events of the previous day.

‘i think wonbin is still with ning ning," you tell them, voice barely above a whisper. ‘i saw them together at the gym. he was teaching her how to shoot a basketball, and then he kissed her when she made a basket. i don’t know what i’m doing wrong.’

mark's jaw tightened, a rare flash of anger crossing his normally calm features.  ‘that bastard,’ he muttered, his fists clenching, visibly upset at how dejected you looked. ‘he can't keep doing this to you.’

yunjin's eyes were blazing with determination. ‘we need to get you away from him,’ she said firmly. ‘i've said it before, and i mean it. you need help breaking free from this cycle and i think that therapy might be the best option.’ 

you hesitated, the thought of therapy filling you with uncertainty. a part of you wasn't ready to let go of wonbin, to sever the ties that had bound you to him for so long, as stupid as it sounded. ‘i'll think about it,’ your voice wavered as you spoke. ‘i'm not sure I'm ready.’

yunjin reached out, taking your hand in a gentle but firm grip. ‘i understand. but you need to start somewhere. you've been so strong, and i know it might seem like i’m being hard on you but i’m just worried. i need you to be okay.’

mark nodded in agreement, his expression softening. ‘we just want what's best for you. you deserve to be happy, to be free from his control.’

the morning stretched on, the weight of their concern pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. despite yunjin and mark's unwavering support, you couldn't shake the relentless grip wonbin had on your heart. as they talked about therapy and escape plans, your mind wandered back to him—his voice, his touch, the way he once made you feel special.

you listened to their suggestions with a detached numbness, nodding mechanically as they outlined their hopes for your recovery. yet deep down, you knew you weren’t ready to let go of wonbin, not yet. the thought of severing ties with him, of facing a future without his presence, filled you with a profound emptiness that mirrored the hollow ache in your chest.

he was the lone soul who cherished every flaw you bore, the one who could kiss away your anxieties, wrapping you in a cocoon where the rest of the world ceased to exist, if only for fleeting moments. the imperfection of the relationship was a shadow that never escaped your notice, whispers of its toxicity brushing your ears. it likely was a venomous bond, but it tethered you to the man who had pulled you back from the precipice of despair. for that, you learned to bury the unsettling disquiet deep within, to choke down the acrid taste of bitterness, and to mask the cracks in your heart with a facade of acceptance.

you had withdrawn into yourself, lost in thoughts of wonbin as you replayed your moments together in your mind, the highs and lows of your tumultuous relationship. the room blurred around you, your friends’ voices fading into the background, their words a distant echo in your ears. they were determined to rescue you from wonbin's clutches, but you couldn't summon the strength to break free. 

even when they had gone and you were left to sink onto the couch, alone with your thoughts, the deafening silence did nothing to help  the all consuming nature  of wonbin. all you could do was think about was wonbin—the way he made you feel alive, the promises he whispered in the darkness, the intoxicating allure of his presence. 

in the solitude of your apartment, you faced the harsh reality that you weren’t ready to let go. you retreated into yourself, the echoes of yunjin and mark's concern fading into the background. in the depths of your soul, a whispered voice echoed—a voice that sounded eerily like wonbin's, promising you everything you had ever wanted.

in that moment of quiet desperation, you made a choice—to hold onto him, despite the pain, despite the uncertainty. for now, he was all you had left, the anchor in the storm of your emotions.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the next morning came, the promise of a new day lay ahead, yet a sense of foreboding lingered in the air. you tried to shake off the unease as you prepared yourself, but the memories of last night’s restless sleep clung to you like a shadow.

a knock on the door startled you out of your reverie. you glanced at the clock—10:30am. right on time. with a deep breath, you opened the door to find wonbin standing there, his usual charming smile plastered on his face. he looked effortlessly handsome, his hair tousled just enough to seem natural, but his eyes held a glint that made your stomach twist.

"good morning love,’ he greeted, he greeted, his voice a silky veneer masking the chill beneath.

‘morning,’ you replied, forcing a smile as you grabbed your bag and stepped outside, closing the door behind you.

the drive started in uncomfortable silence. wonbin’s car was sleek and modern, the leather seats cold against your skin. you noticed his good mood immediately, the way he hummed along to the radio, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. it was infectious and at first you were happy to see him in this way, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in your chest.

he pulled up to a traffic light, his fingers moving rapidly to an incoming text. your eyes caught the name flashing on his phone display as he switched it off—the  name that had become all too familiar. 

‘who was that?’ you asked, striving for nonchalance, but the strain in your voice betrayed you.

‘just ning ning,’ he replied quickly, trying to seem indifferent but he was not meeting your gaze.

the name hung in the air like a dark cloud, a constant reminder of your insecurities. ning ning seemed to be everywhere, her presence looming over you like a spectre, taunting you with the impossibility of living up to her. she was the embodiment of everything you weren’t, and it gnawed at your self-worth like a relentless parasite.

you sighed, sinking deeper into the cold leather seat, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you. the strength to confront him, to demand answers, eluded you. the fear of what those answers might reveal paralyzed you, rendering you silent.

wonbin noticed your demeanour, his eyes flickering with a mix of annoyance and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. ‘hey’, he said sharply, his tone lacking the usual tenderness. 

‘why are you being like this?’

‘it’s nothing. i’m fine,’ you lied, looking out the window to avoid his gaze.

he sighed, a sound of irritation. ‘i know you don't believe me, but there's nothing going on with ning ning. she's just... she's clingy. i’ve been telling her to leave me alone."

‘clingy,’ you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue.

‘yeah,’  he said, his tone dismissive. ‘i’m trying to let her go, but she just doesn't get it.’

you wondered if he had said that about you before, painting you as the desperate one in someone else’s story. the thought twisted in your gut, a nauseating realisation that perhaps you were just another name on his list, another heart he played with.

as he stopped at a red light, he turned to you, his fingers gripping your chin, pulling you towards him. his lips met yours in a kiss, aggressive and demanding, an attempt to erase your doubts and fears. but this time, it felt different. the usual warmth, the comfort of his touch, felt tainted by the lingering presence of ning ning.

you pulled away, staring into his eyes, searching for a truth you feared didn’t exist. hisis gaze was intense, filled with a coldness that made you shiver.

‘please,’ he whispered, his voice a velvet trap. ‘trust me. i’m done with her.’

you wanted to believe him, to let his words wrap around you like a comforting blanket. but the cracks in his story were becoming too glaring to ignore. the light turned green, and he resumed driving, his hand still resting on your thigh, a gesture meant to reassure.

but it only served to remind you of the precariousness of your situation. you were teetering on the edge, clinging to the minuscule amount of hope that he really loved you and that all these things were done out of that love.

the rest of the drive was a masterclass in pretence. wonbin maintained his cheerful demeanour, chatting about inconsequential things, his words flowing like a river that never reached the ocean. but beneath the surface, you could sense the current of unease, the hidden rocks that threatened to capsize your fragile peace.

you arrived at your destination, a picturesque park bathed in the soft light of morning. he parked the car, and you both stepped out, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside you. the park was serene, a haven of tranquility that felt worlds away from the chaos of your emotions.

wonbin took your hand, leading you down a winding path lined with blooming flowers and towering trees. his touch was warm, his presence comforting, but the questions in your mind refused to be silenced.

as you walked, he talked about his plans, his dreams, his vision for the future. his words were like a beautiful melody, captivating and hypnotic, but beneath the surface, an undercurrent of doubt flowed.

you stopped by a small pond, the water reflecting the azure sky above. wonbin turned to you, his eyes a myriad of emotions, like he was surprising his true emotions.

‘i know i’ve made mistakes,’  he said, mustering up as much fake dejection as he could. ‘but i want to make things right. i want to be with you.’

his words tugged at your heartstrings, everything you wanted to hear floating melodically into your ears. you wanted to believe him, to let go of the fears and insecurities that plagued you. but the scars of past betrayals were not easily erased, and the presence of ning ning lingered like a dark shadow.

‘why is it so hard for you to let her go?’ you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, scared to hear his response.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. ‘it’s complicated,’ he admitted falsely. ‘we’ve  known each other for a long time, and she has a hard time accepting that it's over.’

‘but it’s over between you two, right? you don’t want her anymore?’ you pressed, needing to hear the words, to have a tangible confirmation that you weren't just another name in his web of deceit.

‘she doesn't mean anything to me,’ he finally said, his voice a strained whisper that barely rose above the silence. his gaze flitted away, unable to meet yours, focusing instead on a spot on the floor as if the truth might lie hidden in the weedy grass.

you took a step closer, ‘do you really mean that?’ you asked, your voice barely more than a tremor in the stillness. ‘do you truly not love ning ning anymore?’

wonbin’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, a fleeting emotion that could have been guilt, regret, or merely the reflection of the dying light. ‘how many times do i have to tell you, i don't,’ he replied, a bit more firmly this time. ‘i don't love her. it’s you. it’s always been you.’

wonbin's lips curved into a smile, a masterful facade of warmth and reassurance. he reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek with a touch as soft as silk, sending shivers down your spine. ‘she's nothing to me now,’ he said, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a velvet cloak. ‘it's only you that i need.’

his words were a balm to your wounded heart, and you drank them in greedily, desperate to believe. the world seemed to brighten, colours more vivid, sounds sharper, as if his declaration had breathed new life into everything around you. the tight knot of jealousy and insecurity that had been gnawing at your insides began to unravel, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest like the first rays of dawn.

you wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, and in that moment, you did. wonbin’s voice was the honeyed trap, his lies the silken threads that ensnared your heart. he was the master puppeteer, and you, his willing marionette, dancing to the tune of his deceitful serenade.

he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, carrying the faint scent of mint and something darker, something that hinted at the shadows lurking beneath his charm. ‘you're the only one i care about,’ he whispered, and his words were a melody, a siren’s song that drowned out the rational voice in your head.

you closed your eyes, letting his lies wash over you, feeling the weight of your longing lifting. the desperation that had clawed at you for so long was soothed by the simple, sweet assurance that you were his one and only. your heart, so eager to be loved, so willing to be deceived, clung to his words as if they were the very breath of life.

in that twilight moment, with the stars beginning to weave their tapestry across the sky, you allowed yourself to be enveloped in the illusion of his love. you were none the wiser, blissfully ignorant of the web of lies that held you captive. all that mattered was that wonbin loved you, and that was enough to sustain you through the darkness of the night.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the study café was nestled in a quiet corner of the bustling city, a haven for those seeking solace and focus amidst their hectic lives. the soft hum of the espresso machine and the gentle clink of ceramic cups created a comforting symphony, blending seamlessly with the muted conversations that filled the room. the late afternoon sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm, golden glow that enveloped the space in a serene, almost ethereal ambiance.

you sat at a corner table with yunjin and mark, the three of you cocooned in a bubble of shared silence. the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of vanilla and cinnamon from the bakery counter, creating an inviting atmosphere that made it easy to relax. the table was a comfortable chaos of notebooks, highlighters, and laptops, the quintessential tools of students immersed in their studies.

your spirits were noticeably lighter today, a stark contrast to the past few weeks. the recent turmoil with wonbin and ming ning had cast a long shadow over your days, but now, with ning ning out of the picture, a sense of calm had returned. yujin's eyes, soft and observant, flickered with concern as she watched you sip your latte, the steam curling up around your face like a comforting embrace.

‘how are you feeling?’ yujin asked, her voice gentle yet probing as she took a moment to ease her eyes from the strain of the light coming from her laptop. ‘have you thought any more about seeing that therapist i recommended?’

you hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup as you gathered your thoughts. the mention of therapy stirred something uneasy within you, a reminder of the tangled web of emotions and betrayals that had ensnared you.

‘i haven't,’ you admitted, glancing up to meet her gaze. ‘but honestly, i think things are getting better now. wonbin told me he doesn’t love her, that it’s ning ning who’s holding on to their past. he’s trying to break free from her.’

a brief silence fell over the table, the air thick with unspoken words. mark and yujin exchanged a glance, a fleeting moment of disbelief that passed between them like a silent conversation. yujin's lips parted as if to say something, but mark gently placed a hand on her arm, a silent plea for caution.

‘just... don't completely discard the idea, okay?’ mark said, his voice steady and reassuring. ‘it might still help, even if things seem sorted now.’

the words hung in the air, a delicate balance of concern and caution. you looked from one friend to the other, sensing the depth of their worry and care. the soft light caught the edges of their expressions, highlighting the sincerity in their eyes.

‘i know you mean well,’ you said, offering a small, appreciative smile. ‘but i really think it’s different this time. wonbin wants to move forward, and so do i.’

yujin nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving your face. the bustling café around you seemed to fade into the background, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of voices dimming as the weight of the conversation settled over your small group.

‘i get that,’ she said softly. ‘but just remember, sometimes, it helps to talk to someone who can give you a different perspective.’

the café door opened with a gentle chime, letting in a brief gust of cool air that carried the faint scent of rain. outside, the streets were bathed in the soft afterglow of a recent shower, the pavement glistening with a sheen of moisture. you watched as a couple huddled under a shared umbrella, their laughter ringing out as they splashed through puddles, imagining it was you and wonbin in their stead.

‘what makes you so sure?’ yunjin finally speaks up, unable to contain her words any longer. she doesn’t mean to be accusatory, but she wondered if her friends naivety was prompted by any of wonbin’s actions.

you shrugged, trying to keep your voice light and dismissive. ‘i just know. he wouldn't lie to me about something like this. he promised me.’

yunjin’s eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite place—pity, perhaps, or frustration. ‘but remember the times you told us about? like when he was texting her constantly, or that day at the basketball court? you broke down in my arms about that sight.’

‘he explained all that. ning ning is finding it harder to let go of wonbin, and if we’re being honest i don’t blame her. but it’s all in the past now and he only cares about me, not her. i know what you’re thinking but i need you to trust me.’

yunjin put down her highlighter, her expression serious but not unkind. ‘we’re just worried about you,’ she said softly. ‘you deserve someone who makes you feel secure, not someone who keeps you guessing.’

‘i appreciate your concern, i really do. and i know this is coming from a place of concern as my best friend. but i trust him. he loves me again.’

mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘we just want you to be careful. sometimes, when you're close to someone, it's hard to see things clearly. he has a habit of saying things he doesn’t mean.’

you felt a surge of irritation, understanding that it was because they cared about you, but you were tired of them bringing up the past, especially because things had changed now. ‘i get it, you’re sceptical. but this time is different, i know it is.’

the café around you seemed to close in, the familiar sounds and smells fading as the tension at the table grew. you could feel the weight of their concern pressing down on you, but you resisted, clinging to the belief that Wonbin was sincere this time. the light streaming in through the windows seemed harsher now, casting long shadows across the table, and the previously comforting hum of activity felt more like an intrusive buzz.

yunjin sighed, exchanging another glance with mark before returning her gaze to you. ‘alright,’ she said quietly, her voice tinged with resignation as she realised there was nothing she could do or say to change your mind presently. ‘just...promise us you'll be careful, okay?’

you nodded, grateful for the change in subject but also feeling a pang of guilt. ‘i will. thanks guys, i know you’re only doing this because you’re my friends.’

the café’s ambiance wrapped around you again, a gentle reminder of the present moment. the sun had shifted, casting a soft glow on yunjin’s dark hair, highlighting the intensity of her focus as she returned to her textbook. mark was back to his typing, his brow furrowed in concentration. you watched them for a moment, feeling a surge of gratitude for their friendship.

the hours passed, the light outside shifting from the bright gold of afternoon to the softer, muted tones of early evening. the café grew quieter, the rush of the day giving way to a more subdued, intimate atmosphere. you finished your latte, the last sip now cold, and packed up your things, glancing at yunjin and mark as they did the same.

as you stepped out into the cool evening air, the doubts resurfaced, stronger now without the distractions of the café. you hugged your coat tighter around you, feeling the chill seep into your bones. mark and yunjin walked beside you, their presence a comforting anchor, but the uncertainty gnawed at you, a silent, persistent question mark.

the streetlights flickered on, casting a soft, warm glow on the sidewalk. the city seemed quieter now, the rush of the day replaced by a more reflective stillness. you walked in companionable silence, your friends’ presence a silent support as you navigated your thoughts.

when you reached your apartment building, you turned to them, offering a small, grateful smile. ‘thanks for today. i really appreciate it."

‘anytime. we're here for you, always.’

mark nodded, his expression serious but warm. ‘take care, okay? and remember what we talked about.’

you nodded, the weight of their concern settling on your shoulders like a heavy cloak. ‘i will. goodnight, guys.’

the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city became a lullaby as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. despite the doubts planted by yunjin and mark, a deeper part of you clung stubbornly to wonbin's words. you replayed the moments when he had reassured you, his voice gentle and sincere, his eyes filled with a promise that seemed too genuine to be a lie.

you remembered the warmth of his embrace, the way he held you close as if you were the most precious thing in his world. you thought about the small, tender moments—the way he smiled when he saw you, the soft kisses on your forehead, the late-night conversations that made you feel seen and understood. these memories were like a balm, soothing the unease that had settled in your heart.

wonbin had his flaws, you knew that. but you had seen sides of him that others hadn't, sides that made you believe in the love he professed. you remembered the way he looked at you, with a mixture of affection and vulnerability that seemed too raw to be faked. it was this belief that you clung to now, letting it wash over you like a comforting wave, drowning out the voices of doubt.

as you turned onto your side, curling into the blankets, you whispered into the quiet room, as if speaking the words aloud would solidify them. ‘he loves me. he really does.’

the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow that illuminated the room. you imagined wonbin's face in that light, his expression open and honest, his love for you evident in every glance. the doubts that had been gnawing at you began to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of conviction.

you were determined to believe in him, to trust in the bond you shared. love, after all, was about faith and trust. and you had chosen to believe in wonbin, to stand by him despite the uncertainties. the love you felt for him was a powerful force, strong enough to drown out the voices of doubt and fill you with a sense of purpose.

as sleep finally began to claim you, the last conscious thought you had was of wonbin's smile, the warmth of his touch, and the promise of his love. it was enough, you told yourself. it had to be enough. with that thought, you drifted into a dreamless sleep, the doubts momentarily silenced by the strength of your love and the conviction of your belief in him.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the restaurant exuded an air of quiet sophistication, its dimly lit ambiance casting a soft glow over the neatly arranged tables. each surface was adorned with a pristine white tablecloth, and flickering candles provided a warm, intimate light that should have felt comforting.

the rich scent of roasted garlic and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the delicate aroma of the fresh bouquet of wildflowers that sat in a slender vase at the centre of your table. it was the perfect setting for a romantic evening, yet, despite the setting's promise, a profound disconnection settled over your corner like a heavy fog.

wonbin was seated across from you, his presence felt more like a shadow than a companion. his eyes, once brimming with warmth and attentiveness, were now cast downward, glued to the screen of his phone. his fingers moved with a mechanical precision, scrolling through something invisible to you, the rhythm of his taps almost hypnotic. it was as if the digital world had consumed him entirely, leaving no room for the tangible reality of the restaurant or the person sitting right in front of him.

your gaze wandered to the plate of gnocchi before you, a culinary masterpiece of delicate, pillowy dumplings nestled in a bed of rich, creamy sauce. the steam that had once risen from it had long dissipated, leaving the dish cold and uninviting. you poked at the food absentmindedly, pushing it around the plate, trying to summon the appetite that had abandoned you. each bite you had hoped would bring comfort now felt like a chore, as though the simple act of eating was a reminder of the growing chasm between the two of you.

the silence stretched, its weight palpable, and you could feel your stomach tightening into a knot of anxiety. you had hoped that tonight would be a chance to reconnect, to solidify the progress you had made since ning ning was no longer a presence in your lives. the thought of her brought a fresh wave of discomfort, but you were determined not to let it cloud this evening. after all, wasn’t this supposed to be a new beginning for you?

‘wonbin,’ you ventured, voice barely rising above the soft murmur of the restaurant. you could hear the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation from nearby tables, their sounds juxtaposed sharply against the isolation you felt. ‘how was your day?’

‘fine,’ he replied, his eyes still locked on the screen. his response was curt, devoid of any warmth or elaboration. it was as if he was offering the bare minimum to satisfy an obligation rather than engaging in a meaningful conversation.

the sting of his disinterest was like a cold, sharp needle piercing your chest. you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making each word you spoke feel like an uphill battle. your mind raced, desperately searching for a topic that might spark even a flicker of interest in him. 

‘did you see the new exhibit at the art gallery?’ you pressed on, hoping to steer the conversation toward something you could both enjoy. ‘i read that they’re showcasing some incredible modern pieces. maybe we could go this weekend.’

he glanced up briefly, his expression unchanging. ‘maybe,’ he said flatly, a single word that carried no hint of enthusiasm. his gaze quickly returned to his phone, the screen lighting up his face in a cold, blue glow.

your heart sank further, the ache in your chest intensifying. you could feel the desperate effort to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but it was like trying to hold onto sand slipping through your fingers. 

the idea of bringing ning ning into the conversation crossed your mind, but you pushed it aside, unwilling to revisit that painful subject. you had worked so hard to move past it; you didn’t want to derail this evening with old grievances.

the minutes ticked by slowly, each one stretching into what felt like an eternity. you fumbled with your fork, the metallic clatter against the plate sounding unnaturally loud in the oppressive quiet. your attempts to engage him were becoming increasingly painful, like trying to breathe in a room with no air. every question you posed was met with terse responses, as if you were intruding on a private, unspoken space that he was unwilling to share.

‘have you been working on anything interesting lately?’ you asked, forcing a light tone that didn’t quite mask the strain in your voice. the question felt as though it was thrown into a void, with no expectation of being answered. you could see the flicker of a notification on his phone, but it was too fleeting to catch the details.

 the sharp pang of anxiety that followed was almost overwhelming. for a moment, you thought you saw ning ning’s contact name, but you dismissed the thought immediately, chalking it up to paranoia.

your stomach churned with an unsettling mix of anxiety and disappointment. each silent pause was a reminder of the growing distance between you, and you found yourself grappling with the fear that he might be losing interest. the thought of another argument—of digging up old wounds—was a torment you wanted to avoid at all costs. you kept trying, even though the effort was slowly draining me of hope and patience.

the candlelight danced across the table, casting shifting shadows that seemed to echo the dissonance between you. the warm glow should have felt comforting, but it only highlighted the cold reality of the situation. your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—fear, frustration, and a desperate longing for connection. you could almost feel the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on you, a physical manifestation of the emotional chasm that had opened up between you.

‘i saw that you were reading something interesting on your phone,’ you said, attempting a more casual approach. ‘anything you’d like to share?’

‘just some emails,’ he said, his tone indifferent. ‘nothing important.’

the response was as empty as the spaces between your words. your shoulders sagged in defeat, and you looked around the restaurant, searching for something—anything—that might distract you from the growing realisation that the night was slipping away from you. the couples around you seemed to be effortlessly engaged, their conversations filled with laughter and intimacy, a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped your table.

your efforts felt increasingly futile, like trying to light a fire with wet matches. each time you reached out for a connection, it was met with a cold barrier that pushed you further away. the more you tried to bridge the gap, the more pronounced the separation became. it was as though you were speaking into a void,  words swallowed by an emptiness that seemed to grow with each passing minute.

‘i’ve been thinking,’ you said, trying to grasp at straws. ‘maybe we could plan a short trip somewhere? a change of scenery might be nice.’

his response was a mere nod, his eyes remaining fixed on his phone. the effort to maintain the conversation was becoming increasingly painful, like a relentless grind that left you feeling hollow and exhausted. you forced a smile, though it felt as if it were painted on, a mask to hide the turmoil churning beneath the surface.

the longer the silence stretched, the more you felt like a spectator in your own life, watching as the connection you once cherished disintegrated before your eyes. the gnocchi on your plate remained untouched, a silent testament to the disheartening reality of the evening. the warmth of the restaurant felt like a cruel irony, amplifying the coldness between you.

as you reached for your glass of water, you unintentionally caught another glimpse of his phone, and for a brief moment, as the corners of his lips curled, you thought you saw ning ning’s face again in the photo of the person he was messaging.

your breath hitched, and your heart raced, the old insecurities flaring up with a vengeance. you tried to push the thought aside, convincing yourself it was just a figment of your imagination. but the doubt lingered, a nagging voice that refused to be silenced.

eventually, you fell silent, words exhausted and energy depleted. the effort to keep the evening going, to salvage something from the night, felt like an impossible task. you watched as wonbin continued to tap away on his phone, his detachment a stark reminder of the growing distance. the gentle hum of the restaurant, once soothing, now seemed like a distant echo, a reminder of the world that continued to move forward while you were trapped in this painful limbo.

as the final course of dessert arrived, you picked at it absently, the sweetness doing little to alleviate the bitterness you felt. you glanced at wonbin one last time, hoping for a sign of the person you once knew, but the look in his eyes was unchanged—distant, detached. the finality of the moment settled over you like a shroud, a painful acceptance of the reality that the connection you had hoped to rekindle might be slipping away.

the drive home was equally quiet, each passing streetlight a silent witness to the unspoken words and unresolved feelings that lingered. your thoughts were a tangled mess of emotions, a swirling vortex of doubt and longing. you knew that the night would end, but the echo of its silence would linger far longer, a painful reminder of the struggle to keep a relationship alive when the other person seemed determined to remain just out of reach.

the finality of the evening hit you as you reached your doorstep.

the cool night air clung to your skin as you closed the door behind you, the muted sounds of the city a distant hum against the heavy silence that enveloped you both. your heart thudded in your chest, the last flickers of hope still flickering like a candle in a storm. you turned to wonbin, his silhouette standing in the hallway like a forlorn statue, his eyes lost in the shadows.

‘do you want to stay over?’ you asked, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt at nonchalance. ‘i mean, it’s late, and it might be nice to relax at home for a bit longer.’

wonbin looked at you, his expression unreadable. for a moment, you wondered if he might decline, but then he nodded slowly, the movement so slight it might have been a gesture of resignation. ‘sure,’ he said softly.

the quiet of the house seemed to amplify the tension that had followed you from the restaurant. you led him to the living room, your footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor, each creak a reminder of the effort you were making to keep connected. the room was bathed in a gentle, ambient light, the soft glow of a few strategically placed lamps casting a warm, inviting aura. but even the inviting atmosphere felt like a mere backdrop to the palpable disconnection between you.

you busied yourself with making tea, the rhythmic clinking of cups and the hiss of the kettle providing a feeble attempt at breaking the silence. your hands moved with practised precision, but your mind was a tangled mess of anxiety and determination. every action was a calculated effort to reignite something that felt all too distant. the scent of chamomile filled the room, mingling with the faint aroma of the candles you had lit earlier, each fragrance a fragile attempt to soothe the evening’s growing tension.

‘i thought we could watch something together,’ you said as you returned to the living room, placing the steaming mugs on the coffee table. you picked up the remote, your fingers brushing over the buttons as if willing them to summon some form of connection. ‘there’s a new movie on that i thought we might like.’

wonbin took a seat on the couch, his posture rigid, and he nodded absentmindedly. the space between you felt like an invisible barrier, one that you were desperate to bridge. you settled next to him, close but not touching, your heart aching with each passing second of his indifference.

the movie played on the screen, but the images seemed to blur into the background as you tried to focus on wonbin. you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours, a tantalising reminder of the closeness you once shared. you reached out, your hand brushing against his, a tentative gesture that felt both intimate and desperate.

‘wonbin,’ you said his name gently, your breath warm against his skin. ‘can we talk? i really want to hear about what’s been going on with you.’

he glanced at you briefly, his eyes dark and distant. ‘it’s nothing much,’ he replied, his tone flat. ‘just basketball and school stuff.’

you tried to read the emotion behind his words, but the emptiness in his gaze made it difficult. you took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage to push forward, even as the sting of his detachment cut through you. ‘i  miss talking to you,’ you admitted, your voice catching in your throat. ‘i miss us. i just want to feel close to you again.’

‘how can you miss me when i’m right here?’

‘that’s the point. you’re here physically, but it seems like your mind has ventured elsewhere.’

his silence was more painful than any words he could have spoken. the movie continued to play, but the sound was a mere backdrop to the strained effort of trying to keep him engaged. you reached out, wrapping your fingers gently around his hand, your touch a plea for a connection that seemed to be slipping further away with each passing moment.

it’s what made you pause the movie and lead him to your room, the soft light of the overhead bulbs casting a warm glow over the space. you needed him, physically, and you felt it would be a good thing to bring the both of you closer.

the room was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the bedside lamp casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. the air was thick with an unspoken heaviness, an almost palpable silence that seemed to seep into every corner of the space. you lay beside wonbin, the intimacy that once brought you together now feeling like a distant echo, muffled by the cold, mechanical reality that had replaced it.

you reached out tentatively, your hand brushing against his, feeling the familiar texture of his skin but missing the warmth that once accompanied it. his response was automatic, a slight shift of his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, but the contact felt flat and lifeless, devoid of the passion and connection you used to share.

the moments of touch and proximity, once sources of deep emotional connection, now felt like empty rituals. his movements were mechanical, his responses perfunctory, as if he were following a script rather than engaging in an act of intimacy. you pressed closer, trying to find solace in the physical closeness, but each movement felt like an exercise in futility. his body was unyielding, and the warmth you sought seemed to elude you like a mirage.

“wonbin,” you whispered, your voice a delicate thread in the thick silence. “i need you. please… just be present with me.”

he turned to you, his eyes reflecting an emptiness that made your heart ache. he adjusted his position slightly, and you could feel his body moving in a practised, almost automatic way. his hands, once a source of comfort and affection, now traced your skin with a detached precision. every touch, every caress, felt rehearsed and hollow, the physical act devoid of the emotional resonance that once accompanied it.

you reached for him, your hands exploring his body with a desperation that felt almost painful. you sought the familiar spark, the connection that used to ignite with every touch, but instead found only a cold, distant surface. his responses were muted, his body unresponsive, and the intimacy you sought felt like a distant dream slipping further from your grasp.

as you moved together, the act felt like a mere exchange of physical needs rather than an expression of shared desire. each motion, each touch, was devoid of the passion and engagement that had once marked your moments together. the rhythm of your bodies seemed out of sync, the movements mechanical and without the spark of genuine connection.

you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sensations, but even they felt distant and muted, like an echo of something that had once been vivid and real. the pleasure you sought was elusive, a shadow of its former self, and each moment felt like a bitter reminder of how far you had drifted apart.

the silence of the room pressed in on you, a heavy shroud that seemed to amplify the emptiness of the moment. the act itself, once a source of deep connection, now felt like an empty transaction, a physical exercise that failed to bridge the emotional chasm between you. his breathing was steady but lacked the depth of shared emotion, the sound of it a stark contrast to the passion you had once known.

you held onto him, your arms wrapped around his body in an attempt to find solace, but the embrace felt hollow, a formality rather than a genuine connection. the warmth you craved was absent, and the act that should have brought you closer only served to highlight the distance that had grown between you.

as the moments passed, the physical connection that had once been a source of joy now left you feeling more alone than ever. the room remained silent, the only sound the steady rhythm of your combined breathing, a reminder of how disconnected you had become. the intimacy you sought was like a fading memory, and as the night wore on, the weight of the soulless encounter lingered, a poignant reminder of the emotional void that now defined your relationship.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the morning sun slanted through the blinds, slicing the room with narrow, trembling stripes of light that fell across the cold, vacant kitchen floor. you sat at the table, the coffee in front of you a bitter, dark pool slowly growing cold, a symbol of the morning's unspoken disappointment. 

your phone lay still, an inert black slab, void of messages or calls from wonbin. his silence was an alien chill; he always greeted you with the warmth of his voice, a daily sunbeam that now seemed to have vanished. a knot of worry tightened in your chest, twisting tighter with each tick of the clock, each second of unbroken silence gnawing at your heart like a hungry predator. an unsettling sense of foreboding urged you to his place.

the walk was a disorienting blur, the familiar path stretching and warping, each step a slog through a mire of dread. the streets seemed to close in around you, their familiar outlines now menacing. your heart pounded a frantic rhythm, anticipation mingling with a chilling, gut-deep dread. 

by the time you reached his building, the sky had draped itself in a shroud of grey clouds, as if mourning with you. you inhaled deeply, a breath that felt like a last vestige of hope, and knocked on his door. the sound was hollow, reverberating through the silence of the quiet hallway like a ghostly whisper.

silence.

you knocked again, louder this time, each rap of your knuckles like a drumbeat of despair, but the void remained unbroken, and your heart sank with the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. you knew his passcode, a small but significant thread that had always made you feel intimately connected to him. with shaking fingers, you entered the numbers, and the door clicked open, a sound that felt like the cracking of a fragile barrier.

as you stepped inside, the apartment greeted you with an unsettling stillness, the usual warmth and cosiness replaced by a cold, oppressive silence. your voice trembled as you called his name, the sound of it lost and swallowed by the emptiness. the only responses were the mechanical hum of the refrigerator and the distant, metronomic ticking of a clock, each beat a cruel reminder of the moment slipping away.

then, a faint, unmistakable sound drifted from the bedroom—a shuffling noise, followed by a low, intimate murmur. your heart lurched into your throat, and your hands trembled uncontrollably. a tempest of emotions swirled within you, torn between the primal urge to flee and the insatiable need to know. curiosity propelled you forward on unsteady legs, each step feeling like wading through a mire of fear and hope.

as you approached the bedroom door, your mind raced with a kaleidoscope of anxious possibilities. you hesitated only a moment before reaching for the handle, your fingers brushing against it as if touching the edge of a chasm. you pushed the door open, and the sight that greeted you was a gut-wrenching punch to the soul. 

there, entangled in the sheets, was wonbin on top of ning ning, their bodies intertwined in a way that shattered your world. her laughter, a cruel and melodic sound, hung in the air like a mocking serenade. wonbin’s hand rested possessively on her knee, his touch a jagged knife to your heart.

for a moment, the world seemed to contract, the room closing in around you with a suffocating pressure. time itself seemed to freeze, your breath caught in your throat like a trapped bird. ning ning’s eyes widened in shock and embarrassment as she scrambled to cover herself, her vulnerability a stark contrast to the scene you had walked into.

‘what—what are you doing here?’ she stammered, her voice a fragile tremor of confusion and discomfort.

wonbin turned, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker, a storm brewing behind his eyes. he was not panicked or remorseful but exuded a sullen annoyance, his jaw clenched as though your presence was an irritating blemish on his day.

a frigid, relentless fury surged through you, intertwining with an unrelenting, raw pain. “ning ning,” you spat, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions, your anger lashing out like a tempest.

‘how could you? why are you doing this to us?’ your words were jagged shards of glass, each one cutting deeper into the fragile veneer of your relationship.

ning ning’s confusion was palpable, her brows knitting together as she looked between you and wonbin, her voice filled with genuine perplexity. ‘what are you talking about?’ she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and concern.

before you could respond, wonbin stood up, his face contorted with a simmering rage. he had reached the breaking point with you, his patience evaporated by the constant need for reassurance.

‘stop this,’ he snapped, his voice a whip-crack of finality, but it was no use. tears streamed down your face, your eyes still locked on ning ning, a bitter, impotent rage consuming you. why did she always seem to be the one who ruined everything? why couldn’t she just disappear from your lives?

‘every time i think i’m rid of you, you just keep coming back, like a damn shadow. i’m sick of it. i’m sick of you tearing us apart.’ ning ning, the unfair target of your wrath, shivered under the weight of your unrestrained emotions, her discomfort palpable as she stood up, trying to escape the searing intensity of the moment.

‘ning ning, don’t go,’ wonbin said, his voice steely and authoritative, placing a hand on her arm to stop her. his gesture was the final, shattering confirmation of your deepest fears.

‘please,’ you begged, your voice cracking as you turned your desperation toward him. ‘don’t do this. don’t leave me for her,’ you pleaded, your words a broken, desperate prayer.

‘we- we were doing so well and we had finally- finally moved on, and i thought that she was finally gone. but now she’s here, and i’m sure there’s an explanation for this, a reason why you’re laying in bed with another girl who’s not your girlfriend,’ you’re rambling at this point, the words tumbling out as your nature of finding a defence for every wrongdoing of wonbin’s takes control.

wonbin turned to you, his expression hardening into a cold, unrecognisable mask. ‘you’re crazy,’ he said, his words laced with venom. ‘i  showed you a sliver of kindness, and you turned it into this... obsession. you took it too far.’

the room spun around you, your heart collapsing under the weight of his betrayal. ‘no,’ you whispered, shaking your head as if to deny the searing reality before you. ‘i love you. i believe in you. this was just a mistake right?’

wonbin’s eyes were icy, a void where warmth once lived. ‘you need help,’ he said, his tone a final dismissal. ‘this was never what you thought it was.’

your knees buckled, and you sank to the floor, the sobs wracking your body with an almost physical force, leaving you breathless and broken. the world blurred into a smear of colours, your vision obscured by a cascade of tears as you watched him turn away, his hand still possessively resting on ning ning’s arm.

you stared at him, disbelief washing over you like a relentless tide. ‘i thought you loved me,’ you whispered, your voice barely a breath against the storm of emotions. ‘i thought…’

but he cut you off, his words the final, crushing blow. ‘i never loved you, how could you let your delusions run so far?’ he said coldly. ‘get out of my house, and stop bothering me and my girlfriend. don’t make me get a restraining order.’

the world seemed to crumble around you. each word he spoke was a dagger to your heart, the pain radiating through your entire being. the air felt thick and suffocating, the room spinning as you tried to make sense of the betrayal. you had loved him so deeply, had believed in the bond you shared. but now, it was clear that it had all been an illusion, that you were a fool, like everyone had told you.

you rushed to the door, flinging it open as if to escape the walls that seemed to close in on you. the hallway was a blur, the world outside a muted haze. you needed air, space, something to break the suffocating grip of your despair. each step felt like an eternity, your legs heavy and unsteady as you made your way down the stairs, barely aware of your surroundings.

outside, the sky had finally broken open, the rain falling in heavy sheets, mingling with the tears that streamed down your face. the cold droplets felt like needles against your skin, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the agony in your heart. you pulled out your phone, fingers trembling so violently that it took three tries to unlock it. 

‘yunjin,’ you whispered, your voice breaking as you selected her contact. the phone rang once, twice, before her familiar voice filled the line, a lifeline in the storm. 

‘hello? are you there? i can’t hear you,’ her voice was tinged with concern, the warmth of her friendship a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt.

‘i—i need you," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible, each breath a struggle against the crushing weight of betrayal,

‘please, yunjin, he—he's with ning ning. he said I'm crazy. he never loved me."

there was a brief pause, the silence on the other end heavy with shock and anger. ‘i’m coming. stay right there. i’m on my way,’ she said, her voice firm and reassuring. ‘mark's with me. we'll be there in a few minutes.’

you hung up, the phone slipping from your grasp to fall on the wet pavement but you didn’t bother to pick it up. the rain continued to pour, soaking through your clothes and plastering your hair to your face, but you barely felt it. the world around you seemed distant and surreal, the pain in your chest the only thing grounding you to reality.

minutes felt like hours as you collapsed onto the pavement, the cold, wet concrete seeping through your clothes, adding a physical chill to the emotional numbness spreading through you. the rain mingled with your tears, washing away the remnants of your composure. the city around you felt like a distant, indifferent entity, its usual vibrancy muted by your all-consuming despair.

finally, headlights pierced through the downpour, and yunjin’s car screeched to a halt beside you. she flung the door open and rushed towards you, her face a mask of worry and anger.

‘oh my god,’ she breathed, wrapping her arms around you, not caring about the rain soaking through her clothes. ‘i'm here. we're here.’ mark followed closely behind, his face pale with concern as he hovered nearby, unsure of how to help.

you collapsed into yunjin’s embrace, your sobs coming in heaving gasps that shook your entire body. she held you tightly, her grip an anchor in the storm of your emotions. ‘i can’t— i can’t breathe,’ you whispered, clutching her shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you from drowning in your sorrow.

‘it's okay, take a deep breathe in, just like that. and then let it out all, yes’ yunjin’s voice was soothing even as her own tears mingled with the rain. ‘you're safe now. we're going to get through this.’

mark stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. ‘let’s get you inside. you’re going to catch a cold out here.’

they guided you to the car, the warmth inside a stark contrast to the icy rain. you huddled in the back seat, yunjin beside you, her arms never leaving your shoulders. mark drove quickly but carefully, the windshield wipers working furiously to keep the view clear.

the drive passed in a blur, your mind replaying the scene with wonbin over and over, each memory a fresh stab of pain. yunjin murmured comforting words, but they barely penetrated the fog of your grief. by the time you reached her apartment, your sobs had quieted to silent tears, your body exhausted from the emotional upheaval.

inside, yunjin guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a warm blanket as mark made tea. the familiar surroundings of your living room offered a small measure of comfort, but the ache in your chest remained a gaping wound.

yunjin sat beside you, her arm around your shoulders, her presence a steady reassurance. ‘do you want to talk about it?’ she asked gently, her eyes full of concern.

you shook your head, unable to find the words to describe the depth of your pain. instead, you leaned into her, drawing comfort from her warmth and the steady rhythm of her breathing. mark returned with a steaming cup of tea, pressing it into your hands with a soft smile.

‘drink this. it will help warm you up.’

you sipped the tea, the hot liquid burning a path down your throat and settling like a small flame in your stomach. the warmth spread through your body, easing the cold but doing little to touch the chill in your heart.

‘i don’t understand,’ you whispered, staring into the cup as if it held the answers. ‘how could he do this to me? how could he say he never loved me?’

yunjin’s grip tightened around you, her own tears shining in her eyes. ‘some people are just…cruel,’  she said, her voice trembling with anger. ‘he didn’t deserve you. he never did.’

‘but I loved him. i love him,’ you said, the words a broken confession. ‘i gave him everything. why am i not good enough?’

mark assumed a different position, kneeling in front of you, his expression serious and full of compassion. ‘i know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ll get through this," he said. ‘you’re an amazing girl, and i promise you that when the time is right, you’ll end up with someone who can love you truly.’

donghyuck. his name flashes briefly in your mind, and you feel the clench of your heart as you think back to all of the times you had declined his calls, or left his messages unread, or refused to see him in person, all because wonbin said it made him feel uncomfortable. all of that was for nothing now.

the hours passed in a haze of tears and quiet reassurances. yunjin and mark stayed by your side, their presence a balm to your wounded soul. As the rain continued to pour outside, the storm within you slowly began to subside, the sharp edges of your pain dulling to a persistent ache.

the enormity of your heartbreak loomed over you, a shadow that threatened to engulf you whole. you didn’t know how to move forward, how to rebuild the pieces of your shattered heart.

that night, sleep was elusive, your mind replaying the scene over and over, each iteration a fresh wound. you saw wonbin’s cold eyes, heard his cruel words, felt the weight of his betrayal pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. when sleep finally came, it was restless and filled with fragmented dreams of happier times, only to wake up to the harsh reality of your loss.

when you woke, the apartment was quiet, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the windows. yunjin sat beside you, her hand resting gently on your arm.

‘how are you feeling?’ she asked softly, her eyes full of concern.

you took a deep breath, the pain in your chest still there but no longer suffocating. ‘i don’t know,’  you admitted, your voice hoarse from crying. ‘it still hurts.’

‘it’s going to hurt for a while,’ yunjin said, her voice gentle. ‘but it will get better. you’re stronger than you think.’

you nodded, knowing she was right but unable to see a future beyond the pain. ‘i just don’t know how to move on,’ you said, your voice breaking. ‘i  don’t know how to let go.’

‘one step at a time,’ yunjin replied. ‘lean on us. let yourself feel the pain, but don’t let it define you. you’re more than what he did to you.’

her words were a balm, a small but significant comfort. you nodded, a spark of determination igniting within you. it was faint, fragile, but it was there and you clung to it, knowing it was the first step towards healing.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the days that followed were a blur of tears, anger, and quiet moments of reflection. yunjin and mark were constant presences, their support a steady anchor as you navigated the turbulent waters of your emotions. you spent hours talking, crying, and slowly beginning to piece together the fragments of your broken heart.

there were moments when the pain seemed unbearable, when the weight of your grief threatened to pull you under. each day was a struggle, the pain of wonbin’s betrayal a constant, gnawing presence. you avoided mirrors, unable to face the reflection of your own brokenness. your thoughts were a chaotic storm, memories of your time with wonbin interspersed with the harsh reality of his deceit.

two weeks since his words cut through you like shards of glass, leaving behind wounds that seem to refuse to heal. the memories lingered in the quiet moments, like smoke that clings to your clothes long after the fire has burned out. you can still hear his voice, dripping with the venom of half-truths and twisted affection, echoing in your mind as you stare at the ceiling, unable to escape the weight of it all.

your body felt heavy, like it was made of lead, each movement a struggle against the invisible chains that bind you to the bed. the sheets are tangled around you, a reflection of the chaos inside your mind. sleep has been a rare visitor, fleeting and unsatisfying, leaving you more exhausted than before. the clock on your nightstand ticks away, each second a reminder that time is moving forward, dragging you along with it, whether you’re ready or not.

you force yourself to get up, the cold floor sending a shiver up your spine as your feet make contact. the air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and something else, something you can’t quite place—maybe it’s the lingering traces of him, his presence still woven into the fabric of your life despite your best efforts to untangle yourself. you wonder if you’ll ever truly be free of him, if the ghost of what you thought you had will haunt you forever.

yunjin’s words from last night replay in your head, her voice soft but firm, like a lifeline in the darkness. ‘you need to talk to someone,’ she had said, her eyes filled with concern. ‘you can’t keep carrying this by yourself. it’s eating you alive.’

‘you deserve to be happy, to be whole again. please, just consider it.’

at the time, you’d nodded, more to placate her than out of any real belief that talking to a stranger could help. but now, as you stand in the shower, the water scalding against your skin, you realise she’s right. you can’t keep going like this, stumbling through the days in a haze of pain and confusion.

you find yourself dialling the number she gave you, your hands trembling slightly as you press the phone to your ear. 

‘hello, dr. kim's office," a calm, professional voice answered. ‘how can I help you?’

the voice on the other end is warm, inviting, and it pushes you to say something. ‘hi, um, I'd like to make an appointment,’  you stammered, your voice wavering. ‘i  need to talk to someone.’

‘of course. we have an opening later this day luckily. would that work for you?’

‘yes, that would be fine,’  you replied, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety, the words leaving your mouth before you can second guess yourself.

when you hang up, there’s a strange feeling in your chest, a mixture of dread and relief. it’s the first step, you tell yourself, though the thought of opening up to someone about the tangled mess of your emotions fills you with anxiety. it was a small but significant move towards reclaiming your life from the shadow of wonbin’s manipulation.

the therapist’s office is small and cozy, the kind of space that feels like a sanctuary, removed from the outside world. you sit in a plush chair, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, as you try to ignore the way your heart races in your chest. you sit across from her, your hands twisting the hem of your sweater as you try to find the strength to speak. the room smells faintly of lavender, a scent meant to be calming, but it does little to soothe the turmoil inside you. your chest feels tight, like there's a vice around your heart, squeezing tighter with every breath.

‘i've been used my entire life,’ you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. it's the first time you've said it out loud, the first time you've dared to give voice to the darkness that has been festering inside you for as long as you can remember. 

‘by men. they... they never saw me as anything more than something to take from. i was never valued, never cared for. just... used. for their pleasure.’

the therapist nods, her expression one of quiet understanding, but she doesn’t interrupt. she knows you need to get this out, to let the words flow even if they cut you open in the process.

‘i was alone for so long,’ you continue, your eyes fixed on the carpet, unable to meet her gaze. ‘except for yunjin, i had no one. my family... they weren't there for me. i was abandoned, neglected. i learned to expect nothing from anyone because that's all i ever got—nothing. no one ever loved me. i was told, over and over, that i would never be loved.’

your voice cracks on the last word, and you pause, swallowing hard as the memories rise up like a tide, threatening to drown you. you think of all the times you were left behind, all the times you were told you were worthless, all the times you were made to feel like you were nothing more than a burden.

‘and then... i met him.’ his face flashes in your mind, and you have to close your eyes against the rush of emotions that follow. ‘it was late, on a bridge. i was ready to jump, to end it all. i couldn’t take the emptiness anymore, the loneliness. i just wanted it to stop.’

you hear yourself saying the words, but it’s almost like they belong to someone else, some broken version of you that you don’t fully recognize anymore.

‘he found me there,’ you say, your voice trembling as you recall the night that changed everything. ‘he talked me out of it. he said... he said, 'let me love you.' and i believed him. i was so desperate, so empty. he convinced me to live, convinced me that maybe, just maybe, i could be happy.’

you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the armrests of the chair so tightly your knuckles turn white. ‘and for a while, i was. i was happy. he treated me like a princess, spoiled me, made me feel like i was the centre of his world. he made me believe that i was worth something, that i was deserving of love.’

the therapist leans forward slightly, her gaze never leaving you. ‘it must have felt like a dream come true,’ she says softly.

you nod, the tears that have been building finally spilling over. ‘it did. for the first time in my life, i felt like i mattered. but... it was all a lie, wasn't it? he didn't love me. he didn't care about me. he just wanted to own me, to control me.’

‘he saved me, but not because he cared about my life—he did it because he wanted to have power over me. he wanted someone who would be eternally devoted to him, someone who owed him everything. i was just a... a possession to him, something he could use to feed his own god complex.’

the words feel like acid on your tongue, burning as they leave your mouth. it's the first time you've admitted the truth to yourself, the first time you've allowed yourself to see him for what he really was. he didn’t save you out of love—he saved you because it gave him a sick sense of satisfaction, because it made him feel like a god, like he had the power to give and take life.

‘he made me believe that i needed him,’ you say, your voice growing steadier as you continue. ‘that without him, i was nothing. and i believed it. god, i believed it so completely. i let him control me, let him make all the decisions, because i was so afraid of losing that feeling, of losing the love that i thought i finally had.’

the therapist watches you carefully, her eyes full of empathy. ‘but it wasn’t love,’ she says gently. ‘it was manipulation, control. he preyed on your vulnerability, on your desperation for love, and he twisted it into something toxic.’

you nod again, tears blurring your vision as you wipe them away with the back of your hand. ‘i see that now,’ you say, your voice thick with emotion. ‘but at the time, it felt real. it felt like the only real thing in my life. and when he started to show his true colours, when he started to use me, to hurt me... i couldn't leave. i couldn't walk away, because i thought that was all i deserved. i thought that was love.’

the therapist leans back in her chair, giving you space to breathe, to process everything you've just said, her presence calm and steady, like an anchor in the storm of your thoughts. after you’ve poured out your story, your emotions raw and exposed, she lets the silence linger for a moment, giving you space to breathe, to collect yourself. then, gently, she begins to speak.

‘you mentioned that you were used to being abandoned, neglected,’ she says, her voice soft but direct. ‘that no one ever really saw you, valued you. can you tell me more about how that made you feel? what fears did that create in you?’

you hesitate, the words caught in your throat. it’s hard to articulate the deep, gnawing fear that has been with you for as long as you can remember, the fear of being unwanted, unworthy. but you know she’s right—you need to confront it, to bring it into the light if you’re ever going to move forward.

‘i guess… i’ve always been afraid of being alone,’ you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘of being invisible. it’s like… if no one loves me, then what’s the point? i’ve spent my whole life feeling like i’m not enough, like i have to do something, be something more to deserve love. but no matter what i did, it was never enough. i was always left behind.’

the therapist nods, her expression one of deep empathy. ‘and that fear, that sense of inadequacy… it’s something that wonbin played on, isn’t it? he made you believe that he was the only one who could love you, the only one who saw your worth. but in reality, he was using those insecurities to keep you close, to keep you dependent on him. he made you feel like you needed him to be whole.”

the truth of her words hits you like a punch to the gut, and you can feel the tears welling up again. ‘he did,’ you say, your voice shaking. ‘he made me feel like… like i was nothing without him. he’d say things like, ‘no one else would ever want you,’ or ‘you’re lucky i’m here to take care of you.’ and i believed him. i believed that he was all i had, that he was the only one who could make me feel loved.’

the therapist leans forward slightly, her gaze intent. ‘but let me ask you this: why did you believe him? what part of you thought that he was right, that you didn’t deserve anything more?’

the question lingers in the air, heavy with the weight of its implications. you know the answer, but it’s one you’ve been avoiding for a long time, burying deep beneath layers of denial and self-preservation.

‘because… because that’s what i’ve always been told,’ you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘by everyone. growing up, all i ever heard was that i wasn’t good enough, that i wasn’t worthy of love. my parents, they… they never really cared about me. they were too wrapped up in their own lives, their own problems. and the few relationships i’ve had before wonbin… they were the same. men who just wanted to use me, who didn’t see me as a person, just… just a thing. so when wonbin came along, and he said he loved me, that he saw me… i wanted so badly to believe him.’

the therapist lets out a small sigh, her eyes filled with compassion. ‘it’s understandable, given everything you’ve been through. but what wonbin did was cruel. he took advantage of your deepest fears and insecurities, and he used them to manipulate you, to keep you trapped in a cycle of need and despair. he made you feel like you had no choice but to stay with him, because if you left, you’d be alone again, invisible, unwanted. but that’s not true. you are so much more than what he made you believe.’

you feel a lump forming in your throat, the tears threatening to spill over once more. ‘but how do i unlearn all of that?’ you ask, your voice trembling. ‘how do i stop believing that i’m worthless, that i don’t deserve love?’

the therapist’s expression softens, and she reaches out, placing a comforting hand on yours. ‘it’s going to take time, and it’s going to take work. but the first step is recognizing that these beliefs—these lies—were never true to begin with. they were planted in you by people who were incapable of giving you the love and care you deserved. but just because they couldn’t see your worth doesn’t mean it isn’t there. it’s about challenging those negative thoughts when they arise, about reminding yourself that you are deserving of love, simply because you exist, because you are you.’

she pauses, letting her words sink in before continuing. ‘and it’s about learning to set boundaries, to recognize when someone is trying to manipulate you, when they’re trying to take advantage of your fears. it’s about reclaiming your power, your sense of self, and not letting anyone else dictate your worth. wonbin didn’t own you. he didn’t save you. he just made you think that he did, because it gave him power over you. but you have the power to break free from that, to create a life that isn’t defined by what others think of you, but by what you think of yourself.’

"you were taught to believe that love meant sacrifice, that it meant enduring pain and suffering," she says after a moment. "but real love doesn’t hurt. it doesn’t demand that you give up your identity, your autonomy, your sense of self-worth. real love builds you up, supports you, makes you feel safe and valued."

her words hit you like a tidal wave, and you feel something shift inside you, something that has been locked away for far too long. for so long, you’ve been searching for love in all the wrong places, clinging to the hope that someone, anyone, would see you, would love you for who you are. but all you've found is pain, betrayal, and heartache.

the tears finally spill over, and you find yourself crying, not just for the pain of the past, but for the realisation that there is a way forward, a way out of the darkness that has consumed you for so long. ‘i want to believe that,’ you say through your tears. ‘i want to believe that i can be… more.’

‘i just don’t know how to love myself,’ you admit, your voice small, almost childlike. ‘i’ve spent my whole life thinking that love is something you have to earn, something you have to fight for. but i don’t even know where to start.’

the therapist offers you a small, encouraging smile. ‘it’s okay to not know,’ she says softly. ‘healing is a journey, and it’s going to take time. but you’re already taking the first steps by being here, by acknowledging the pain and starting to unpack it. learning to love yourself is a process, but you don’t have to do it alone. you have yunjin, you have me, and most importantly, you have yourself. that’s where it starts—with you, with recognizing that you are deserving of love, not because of what you can give, but simply because you exist.’

her words settle over you like a warm blanket, offering a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time. you nod, more to yourself than to her, as you let the truth sink in. it’s going to be hard, and there will be days when you want to give up, to fall back into old patterns, but you know now that you don’t have to face this alone. you have support, you have people who care about you, and most importantly, you have the strength within yourself to heal, to break free from the chains that have held you down for so long.

as you leave the therapist's office, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter, the air a little easier to breathe. you’re still hurting, still struggling, but you’re not the same person who walked in an hour ago. you’re starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s a life worth living on the other side of all this pain.

it’s painful, this process of unlearning, of peeling back the layers of lies and distortions that wonbin had wrapped around you like a suffocating blanket. but it’s also liberating, like you’re finally taking a breath after being underwater for too long. you realise that healing isn’t about forgetting him or erasing the memories, but about reclaiming yourself, your identity, your worth. it’s about recognizing that you deserve more than what he gave you, that you are more than the broken pieces he left behind.

as you step out of the therapist’s office, the evening air feels cooler against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the room where you’ve just laid your soul bare. the session left you raw, emotions still tingling on the surface, but there's a clarity that you haven't felt in a long time. each breath feels a little easier, each step a little lighter. you’re beginning to understand the long road of healing ahead of you, and for the first time, it doesn’t seem so daunting.

walking down the quiet street, your thoughts swirl with everything you’ve uncovered today. you’ve confronted the lies you were told, the fears that were planted deep within you, and the ways in which wonbin preyed upon them, turning your vulnerabilities into chains. but most of all, you’ve begun to recognize your own worth—the truth that you are deserving of love that doesn’t come with conditions, that doesn’t require you to sacrifice pieces of yourself.

it’s a liberating realisation, but it also leaves you with a sense of unfinished business. the therapist’s words echo in your mind, a gentle but persistent reminder of the steps you still need to take, the fears you have yet to face. you’ve started to reclaim your life, but there’s one part of your journey that remains unresolved—one final piece that feels both terrifying and necessary.

donghyuck.

his name lingers in your thoughts like a whisper, a soft, persistent presence that you can’t ignore. you’ve avoided thinking about him for so long, scared of what it might mean to reach out, to let someone in again after everything you’ve been through. but now, after all the work you’ve done, after all the truths you’ve uncovered, you realise that this might be the final step in your recovery process.

it’s not just about donghyuck; it’s about you—about proving to yourself that you can take control of your life, that you can choose who you allow into your heart, and that you can set the terms of your own happiness. reaching out to him isn’t just about seeking connection; it’s about facing the fear that’s held you captive for so long, the fear that you aren’t worthy of real, healthy love.

as you stand on the quiet street, the cool evening breeze brushes against your skin, carrying with it the scents of the city—distant car exhaust, the faint sweetness of blooming flowers, and something deeper, like the smell of rain about to fall. your heart is still racing, each beat a reminder of the decision you’ve made. calling him doesn’t feel right, not for this. you need to see donghyuck face to face, to confront everything you’ve been avoiding, to finally put an end to the uncertainty that has haunted you for so long.

the thought is terrifying, but there’s also a strange sense of calm that settles over you. the kind of calm that comes when you’ve made up your mind, when you know that there’s no turning back. you start walking, your feet moving almost of their own accord, each step heavy with the weight of what you’re about to do.

the streets blur around you, the familiar path to his place etched in your memory, your senses heightened as your mind races with a mix of anticipation and fear. you notice everything—the way the shadows lengthen as the sun dips lower, the sound of distant laughter from an open window, the way your breath catches in your throat with each step closer to him. the world feels both vivid and surreal, as if you’re moving through a dream, and yet you’ve never felt more awake.

you reach his building, the sight of it sending a fresh wave of anxiety through your veins. for a moment, you just stand there, staring up at the windows, the ones you know so well. your pulse pounds in your ears, and you feel a momentary urge to turn around, to flee back to the safety of your own space. but then you remember everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve learned. you’re stronger now, stronger than you were before, and you owe it to yourself to take this step.

with a deep breath, you push open the front door, the familiar creak echoing in the small lobby. the sound of your own footsteps on the tiled floor seems unnaturally loud as you walk to the elevator, each second stretching out, the anticipation building. you press the button, the elevator doors sliding open with a soft ding, and step inside. the ride up feels interminable, your heart pounding in your chest as the numbers tick by, each one bringing you closer to him.

when the doors open again, you step out into the dimly lit hallway, the soft hum of fluorescent lights above you the only sound. you can feel your hands trembling, your throat tightening as you approach his door. there’s no going back now, no more hiding, no more avoiding what you know you need to face.

you raise your hand to knock, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before your knuckles rap against the wood, the sound sharp and jarring in the silence. you wait, your breath held, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. 

footsteps sound from the other side, muffled but distinct, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest. the door swings open slowly, and there he is—donghyuck, standing in the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you. 

you don’t know what you were expecting, but the sight of him after all this time sends a jolt through you, a rush of emotions you can barely contain. the air between you crackles with tension, thick with all the words that have gone unsaid, all the feelings that have been left unresolved. 

his gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to hold its breath, the sounds of the city fading into the background, leaving just the two of you in this charged, electric silence. his eyes search yours, as if trying to understand why you’re here, what you’re feeling, what this moment means. 

and just as the words are about to spill from your lips, the apology you’ve been clutching so tightly, donghyuck steps closer. his eyes, heavy with a thousand unsaid things, lock onto yours, and the silence around you seems to breathe with his unspoken ache. 

the warmth of his breath mingles with the cool air, a bittersweet reminder of the distance that once separated you. his gaze, intense and filled with a raw, longing glow, makes the world around you blur, leaving only the undeniable tension that crackles between you. you stand there, heart racing.

 then, in a voice that quivers like a leaf in the wind, he utters the words that pierce through the stillness.

‘i’ve missed you.’

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Not a bad night

George Luz x reader

Summary: very short and cute little thing I wrote right after the first fic I posted on here bc I felt bad for how I treated poor George there lol <33

Word count: 599

“Hey, are you still with me?” I was so tired that George’s voice sounded like it was coming from a mile away.

He chuckled, continuing to walk carrying me in his arms towards my own house. We had been out all night drinking with some of the boys and he had never seen me quite so sleepy.

Maybe it was due to having a few more drinks than usual, or maybe I was just tired to begin with, but either way he wasn’t about to complain.

Noticing I was barely able to walk, he had offered to drive me home and as soon as I sat in the passenger seat, my eyes had fallen shut and I’d been in an out of consciousness for the whole ride. Mostly out.

But I could hear his voice now as he kept talking and cracking jokes at me to keep me awake and I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. It was cozy and nice.

“Where are the keys, doll?”

“Don’t call me that” I frowned and he laughed.

“Of course you’re awake for that”

“They’re…” I tried to point a direction but it was hard to do in the dark. “Jacket. Left pocket”

He found them pretty quickly. “I’m gonna have to put you down for a minute, but you just lean on me, okay?”

I nodded and when my feet touched the ground I encircled any part of his body that I could reach, looking for that warmth again.

The key turned in the lock, he picked me up once again, this time bridal style, and we finally went it. “Looks like we’re just married” he said with a grin.

“In your dreams, soldier”

“How can you be so cruel” He feigned outrage and distress as he started heading for the bedroom. “I thought we really had something special here…”

I opened one eye and saw the amusement written all over his face, so I gave him a light cuff: “Idiot”

“At your service, ma’am” He slowly and gently lowered me on the bed. He tucked me under the covers, but then suddenly, as he was about to walk away, I pulled him back by his jacket with one hand.

“George” I called in a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“You’re cute” I ran my hand all over his face as if to emphasize the point. “Thank you for doing this”

His heart started racing. He could tell I wasn’t joking, but I also wasn’t exactly in my right mind at the moment.

The natural consequence was panicking. “No problem, I better…” He stood up straight, taking a step back “I-I better go now”

He knew how to deal with sarcasm and digs, that was his first language, but moments of real, human connection had him completely lost.

“Please stay?” My eyes were fully open now, even exhausted as I was. I saw the confusion and hesitation in his eyes slowly leave room for hope.

“Sure thing” He took off his own jacket and very carefully laid down on the other side of the bed, facing me with an expression that looked an awful lot like awe.

I smiled at him one last time and about three seconds later I was fast asleep. He stayed up for another hour or so, not daring to move a muscle, just listening to me breathe and admiring the relaxed look on my face as I drifted off into the dream world.

Not a bad night at all, he thought.

[babyspiderling]

We Can't be Friends Part 1

Pairing: S1!Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: Angst, Fem Reader, BAU Reader

I was never good at giving space when someone was upset. I had this almost detrimental need to fix whatever was creating the problem. To poke and prod until a solution was reached or the tension reached its breaking point, forcing a cool down by the sheer concrete logic of Newton's third law of motion. Triggering such a reaction usually caused much worse consequences in terms of bonds and relationships, but almost selfishly, it brought an end to the guessing and desperation to fix what was “wrong”. Even if the cause and the effective solution were far from my own control. 

On the mirrored side, the anxiety that came from the tension and the restlessness that followed made me meek and almost overly cautious, tip toeing on the eggshells. To bite my tongue, to make myself invisible in an attempt to escape the feeling. The urge to cower and hide from the heavy emotional pressure was almost as strong as the compulsion to push and dig in my heels until everything reached climaxing peak, to allow the hurt if it meant the claustrophobic feeling to subside. 

I can’t tear my eyes from her. From her long, perfectly conditioned and styled blond hair. From her perfect figure. She disappears around the corner, so blase, almost flippant in her denial. She wasn’t the first reluctant victim and I consciously knew she wouldn’t be the last. I heave a large sigh and turn back to the cork board, room temperature coffee bitter on my tongue no matter how much sugar and creamer I added to the styrofoam. I open my mouth to ask Spencer his own thoughts only to find his gaze glued after Lila. I frown, pursing my lips as I cross my arms over myself, as if to hold myself against the stirring feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. “Ahem, Ground Control to Spencer. Are you listening?” 

My frown deepens as his almost criminally prominent jaw line tilts in an attempt to give the illusion his attention had turned to me. His refusal to let her leave his eyeline until he is physically unable to see her through the walls of the precinct sends a pang through my chest. My lips part to grumble a snide comment, to inflict the same prickling feeling he forced upon me but I bite my tongue. It’s almost comical, the conspicuous real time buffer as his mental capacities finally catch up to their normal levels. As if Lila’s mere proximity caused his boasted IQ to slash itself in two, only recovering when she was no longer in visual range. My teeth pierce painfully into the flesh of my cheek, echoes of Elle’s teasing ringing in my ears, how Spencer would only lose his extensive articulation around pretty girls, and the glaringly painful reminder that he never tripped over anything due to my presence. 

“Never pegged you to be the type to be stunned by Hollywood.” I purse my lips after the rebellious jab that had escaped from the tip of my tongue and through my clenched teeth. I sigh to myself seeing his puppy eyes and his little pout, the one that always made an appearance when the team cut his little rants off. Guilt smothers the sparks of jealousy swirling in my stomach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just… stressed about this case. Something just doesn’t sit right.” 

A pair of dark glasses cover my tired eyes. I hadn’t slept much the night before, restless and yet unable to do much more than stare up at the dull hotel ceiling. We had finally given the profile the night prior. I lean against the set wall, watching every interaction. I watch as Lila’s manager spoke to her. I glance up out of the corner of my eye, coming face to face with Morgans bicep as he joins me against the wall. He looked much more in place than I did. He looked like the rest of the muscled security milling about the set. 

“Tell me I’m not crazy.” I find myself mumbling. “Tell me I’m not the only one who finds something wrong with the profile. It makes sense, I guess. But it’s like walking into the room with everything moved an inch. It’s close but not quite. I just can’t… I can’t pick it out.” I sigh, forced to watch as she struts to Spencer, perfect expanses of skin on full display, only scraps of sequined fabric keeping me from having to arrest her for public indecency. I bite my cheek, crossing my arms over my ribs. I watch as he fawns over her. I watch as he stumbles over his words, losing any semblance of articulation. The back of my mind chimes cruelly that he had never so much as broke stride with me. 

I physically feel my jaw drop from its clenched position as he allows her to share his drink. On the occasions I was the subject of his sharing, things were put in separate glasses, foods cut in half and separately plated. He couldn’t stand the possibility of me contaminating his food, the person who’s been his assigned partner for the better part of a year, but the beauty he had known for mere hours had earned the almost casual intimacy that I had spent sleepless nights scheming for the mere chance of. It wasn’t fair. 

Morgan leaves me, pushing off the set wall to sneak behind the genius. My heart squeezes in my chest as even he acknowledges the break in Spencers rigid habits when it comes to sharing. Spencer grimaces as Morgan ruffles his hair. My breath catches in my throat as his eyes reach mine. I do my best to blink away any evidence of anything other than pure focus and analytics. I purse my lips despite my efforts, turning to walk away from it all, letting cowardice win.

[divinehedons]

a madness all-consuming.

Pairing: dark!raider!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: There's a few rules that aid one's survival in a post-apocalyptic hellscape. Stealing from Joel Miller is, of course, the fool's road to hell. But you just couldn't resist it. Now you have to face the consequences.

Warnings: This is a dark fic, minors DO NOT interact! This fic contains explicit non-con, allusions to canon-typical violence, elements of torture (mostly psychological, slightly physical), explicit unprotected sex (wrap it up!), gun kink, hard dom!joel, angry sex, this version of Joel is a real meanie poopie head, biiiig legal age gap.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated; requests welcome!

You figured it would be easy. He wasn't in the prime of life, after all. He couldn't even hear properly out of one ear. If you were going to steal from anyone at the end of the world, you'll take all the advantage you can get. So when you heard the clear sound of a gun's safety clicking off in the dead of night, you swore there was never a time you turned around faster.

That's how he found you, clutching a looted bottle of whisky, eyes wide and trembling. Joel Miller was many things. You heard whispers of that quiet man who spoke with his eyes. You knew people who fled from him, even in their sleep. Never look him in the eye, kiddo.

Was he some modern Titan, you wondered once, with his Medusean gaze and Midas touch? Whatever it was, you had tried so hard not to run in with him. And yet, here you lay, right in the belly of the goddamned beast.

You never should've taken the gig for some crumbs to live off of.

"Put it down, little lady," he mutters gruffly, motioning with the barrel of his gun as your breath hitches, the words escaping your throat as you slowly allowed yourself to place the bottle back on the floor. "Atta girl. Now, we can be civilised, can't we? You'll tell me what you're doin' here, and I won't shoot your pretty little head off."

You had begun to stammer out some semblance of an explanation. I was starving. I hadn't eaten for days. I'm trying to be good-

The cool metal barrel stares you down as the gruff man presses it against your forehead, finally shushing your panicked cries as the free hand cups your cheek, rough hands belonging to the much taller man, somewhat attempting to soothe and relax.

"Use that pretty li'l mouth of yours, sugar, c'mon."

"Th-they told me they'd give me more rations if I g-got something for you," you said between shaky tremors. "I don't have anywhere else to go, sir, please-"

"Are you gonna start being more specific or do i have to get it out of you myself?"

Perhaps it was the sobs that escaped you. Perhaps it was the sheer panic in your eyes. Either way, Joel Miller immediately knew you weren't going to be as easy to talk to as he thought. He sighs, returning the pistol to his holster as his large hand takes you by the scruff of your shirt- a grimy little thing, really, stolen from one body or another- dragging you to the rickety dining table, slamming your rigid frame, face up and floundering just as he tethers each limb to each wooden leg, leaving you spread eagle, the perfect little victim.

You try to peer at him from the darkness, squinting through the warm yellow light overhead. You barely make out his figure, the soft sound of tools clinking as you try, once more, to beg.

Argumentum ad miseracordiam. An appeal of misery. You try to tell him, in broken fragments. "The other raiders said they'd give me food- oh, God, please! I haven't eaten in days and I was desperate!" A cry escapes you as he returns with a knife in hand, looking to you with a gaze that you only understood for what it was: of a man without morals, stumbling upon a mode of release.

He moves closer, and you can feel his breath on your cheek as that cool blade presses against your exposed throat. You cry, you scream, you thrash, even when the rope on your limbs dig deeper into your aching skin.

"Give me a name, sugar. Wouldn't want to hurt your pretty little neck," he threatens, just as you feel that blade cut against your skin when your breath hitches.

"I-" you try and think, try and remember, try to shake off that looming cloud over her brain. The blade again, slicing as warm rivulets of blood stain his fingers. The answer never came faster. "I don't know!"

He stabs the stained knife right beside your left ear, so close you swore you could've heard your own hair tethered to the same table as you cry out from sheer panic. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry- Please, I won't come near you ever again, just... please don't kill me-"

"So fuckin' mouthy," Joel finally says, glaring up at you with those same relentless eyes, retrieving his gun from his holster, pressing it against your lips as you sob harder. "Open your fucking mouth before I shoot your brains out, sugar." You obey, the idea of death so foreign and terrifying that it shocks you to consciousness. Making you all the more aware of the hell that comes next.

Slowly, Joel fucks the barrel of his loaded pistol, in and out for a few times as he watches you struggle against the sheer size of it. Finally, he presses it deep, despite your gagging and whining. "That's it, baby. Keep that pistol warm for me." All at once, you feel the heat in your cheeks, the tears wetting your skin, spread wide open and weak. "The only time you should be talking to me is if you're gonna tell me who sent you, peach. Got it?"

You try your best to nod, horrified of how much further he could go. You whine when he tears your shirt, uses his knife to cut open your pants. Within minutes, he has you how he wants you: bare, trembling, and completely at his mercy. It is then that he takes the gun away, chuckling darkly at the string of spit that clings against the muzzle.

"Ready to give me a name, darlin'?"

You sob, and try again. Like a fool, you think. "I didn't know, I swear!"

You feel his fingers take one pert nipple, pinching so hard you squealed and swore you almost saw stars. You look down, seeing the reddish-purple marks of his fingers. "Such a waste, baby. We could be having fun by now, but you're so fuckin' stubborn."

There's something else. You feel the slightly warm sensation of metal drifting against your stomach, lower and lower until he reaches that sweet cunt of yours. He watches, mesmerized by that strip of flesh that had never looked more delectable. And his beloved pistol is there, finding your needy little clit with ease.

"Tell me, sugar. Or else, you're fuckin' my gun."

You looked to see his expression to see if he was joking. If this was his sick form of pleasure, watching the fear enter your gaze. Only when you look, his gaze only carries burning clarity.

You feel white-hot shame cover you, and you hear yourself saying the words. "There was a blond!"

He pauses, just enough to see if what you were saying had any relevance. "He said he... he said it would be funny if I succeeded-"

"Interesting," interjected your captor, pausing momentary as he positions his gun right at your entrance. "Interesting, but not good enough."

With that, you feel something fucking up into you as you screamed, thrashing against your bindings as he chuckles, first sinking his pistol's entire barrel, only to recede and fuck back into you at a much more brutal pace.

The agony was indescribable. The pistol helped with nothing but your spit, your body, at first resisting, only to keen when the metal brushes against somewhere so deep within you. Wetness secretes from your very essence and makes it easier. You fought again, knowing just how much sickening pleasure it would bring him to know his gun had gotten you wet.

But he knew. Of course he knew.

He knew from the way your body tenses, builds up, locks itself. He knew from the miniscule way your hips chased his motions, the way your lip trembles, your eyes closing, only for your orbs to roll back. Fight as you must, your body told him you wanted this too. And that was enough to make him smirk.

You hear it, despite your whimpers. The distinct click of the safety turning off as he focuses on your needy little cunt. "That's it, baby. That's fucking it-" He smirks up at you as you shake your head, begging him to stop as he continues.

"Fuck no, baby." He leans closer, free hand holding your face and making you look at him. "I want you to look me in the eye as you cum."

That was all you needed. Just as he says it, your hips tense, your cunt clenches, your scream echoing throughout the house as your orgasm takes over you so wholly and completely, your spend making it so much easier to fuck you through your peak.

It was utter humiliation, seeing Joel pull away the pistol for it to be soaking, the evidence of your arousal dripping directly from the end of the muzzle. You whine, shivering where you lay as your eyes water.

"I-it was a raider too," you try again, wracking your brain throughout the darkness in an attempt to remember.

That seemed to peak his interest, looking up to you again, hands reaching down to unbuckle his belt. He smirks again, as if pushing you to say more in the chance that he'd stop. You start panting, squirming, struggling once more as you tried to remember anything else.

"Please, I've given you everything!"

That made him chuckle. Smug, collected, cool. "I don't know 'bout that, darlin'," he says in that significant southern drawl, leaning down to spit directly on your fucked out cunt, climbing up on that same dining room table, taking his cockhead to spread his own spend. His last kindness. Carefully, smilingly, biding his time. Like the monster that plays with his meal, as if the fear would make you taste as sweet.

You will always remember those brief moments. Where everything falls silent and all you can hear is the soft pleads, your wit's end hanging on to the desperation in your voice. You remember those dark eyes glinting in the darkness, as if he's still waiting, eternally watching, just how far you'll be able to beg for your dignity.

Perhaps that was why he bit down on your shoulder when you screamed as his massive girth spread you wide open in one solid thrust. From then on, he doesn't wait anymore. He fucks you through your tears, your screams, your fingernails digging into the hard wood of the table as he takes his pleasure, methodic, repeatedly, without satisfaction in sight. When he fucks you, he does so in a way that seemed to claim, carving a home for himself within your walls. A home for his spend when, some time after, he kisses your mouth needingly as his hips stutter and fuck his orgasm right against the very entrance of your womb.

He stays there, collecting himself as you wince, sniffle, turn your face away out of embarrassment, humiliation, feeling that finally, despite surviving another night in your post-apocalyptic reality, that you lost something anyway. That you weren't human anymore, anyway. Just a ghost inhabiting the body that was once your own.

"Blond, you said?" he asked, brows furrowed as he pulls himself out of you, tucking himself back into his pants. When you nod, you hear him depart into that darkness.

The peace felt jarring, silent, without a threat to the warm evening. But as soon as it started, so soon too, did it break.

All you hear is the clatter a few rooms away from you. Incomprehensible yelling from Joel and someone else, and, soon too, the rhythmic sound of pounding, grunting, the second voice falling silent.

Joel takes you again when he returns, turning you over and gripping you with sticky fingers. You shut your eyes and cry. You do not want to ask. You do not want to know.

But when he forces two fingers past your lips, the heavy taste of blood settle on your tongue. It tells you enough.

Was it madness if you felt relieved?

[alex51324]

Already seeing some rancid takes on Con's new interview about OFMD S2, so here are some points to ponder:

As was pointed out when the strike first ended, we are not owed, and should not expect, complete candor from the actors. Doing press is part of the job, to promote the project, and focusing on positive aspects is expected & customary.

That doesn't mean that Con is necessarily lying through his teeth when he says, " I have nothing but love, respect, and faith in David Jenkins. Trust him. He knows what he’s doing." It could be anywhere along the range from that, to he absolutely 1000% means it with his whole chest.

(And we really shouldn't try to read the tea leaves about which is it, because even a convincing rumor of "Oh, yeah, Con totally tipped us off that he thought it was dogshit" could have professional consequences for Mr. O'Neill in real life.)

But--

At the same time, we do not owe Con (and I'm sure he does not expect) the last word on how we feel about S2 in general and Izzy's ending in particular. Con (presumably) knows things about David Jenkins's vision for the season (and/or plans for season 3), that we do not know. That's fair, but it's also fair for us to evaluate what we actually saw.

If there's something we don't know, which (if we knew it) would make Izzy's death (and the season as a whole) work better, then--why don't we know it?

A choice was made to not show that information, and (given the way TV production works) it was probably a group decision, but the buck ultimately stops with the showrunner. He presumably didn't intend for the season finale to alienate a large (and vocal) swathe of the audience, but it abso-fucking-lutely did, so it's fair to ask what he was trying to do, and speculate about he could have done differently to have the effect on the audience that he wanted to have.

In terms of my personal reaction, I've kind of been swinging around wildly, but the basic throughline is that I suppose it might be possible for David Jenkins to dig himself and his show out of the hole he's put them in, but I'm having a lot of trouble seeing how. Especially if we add the caveat that it's a "this is what was intended and planned for all along" thing, and not an "oops, our bad" retcon.

But I'm willing to be proved wrong about that! As I've said before, maybe the little wooden boy really can pull it off. Middle installments of trilogies are notoriously hard, and sometimes they improve once part 3 is in place.

I don't think this new interview is anything game changing, but it could be a point on the optimistic side of the ledger. Maybe David Jenkins really does have a plan! Maybe he'll even be able to carry it out (even though, from all appearances, the plan for S2 seems to have had an "It's September 1st, boss"-sized hole in it)!

But ultimately, I'll believe it when I see it.

[letstalktea]

Sweet As Pomegranate

Prompt: An alpha during a rut isn’t allowed to fuck anything, being made to find their pleasure through their holes

Summary: Pure Sydney taking toys up the ass during his rut, sniffing between his omega’s legs and messing up his chastity belt.

Content: AMAB!Bottom!Alpha!Pure!Sydney (he/him) x Top!Omega!PC (they/them), pegging, role reversal

Word Count: 862

There’s a way we can do it without breaking our vows.

That’s what they told him and there was no way he didn’t trust them after how close they’d grown to one another. Even if Jordan didn't think their feelings for one another weren’t pure enough to pass the rite, he had faith that they felt the same way about him as he did for them. He really, truly believed that.

He also believed that he wouldn't make it through his rut if they couldn’t touch one another. He was already going mad just being able to smell their sweet and tart omega scent – like fresh pomegranate juice dripping down his fingers – clinging to his uniform at the end of each day. They were temptation and his will was wavering. He wanted to be promised to one another already!

“Relax, Syd,” they whispered against his lips as they kissed him with fervor and dug their wet fingers into his virgin ass. “I'll hurt if you tense up so much.”

It should have felt defiling to be touched so deeply, but it didn't. In fact, it felt liberating because he trusted them. If anyone would be gentle with him, if anyone wouldn't abuse him or take advantage of him, if there was anyone that wouldn't leave him after they got what they wanted, he trusted it would be them. He believed in them and he believed they loved him as much as he loved them.

“You're doing so well,” they praised and his stomach fluttered.

He was an alpha at the onset of a rut and they were the omega that drove his instincts wild. The only thing that saved him from giving into his desire to pin them down and mount them was his own willpower and faith, but he also had faith in them; faith that they were correct when they proposed a way to touch each other without breaking either of their vows; faith that their idea was correct.

“I can't wait much longer to be joined with you.” They curled their fingers inside of him and he could feel his cock struggle to twitch behind the confines of his chastity belt.

Just as easily as they teased him open, they withdrew their fingers and left him empty and aching for them.

They sat up between his legs, proudly displaying the fake behemoth strapped to their hips. 

They wrapped their fist around its girth and stroked it slowly from base to tip, spreading the same lube over it that they'd used to stretch him open, until it was glistening. “Can I, Syd?”

To have an alpha embrace an omega was always risky. No matter how much self-control Sydney claimed to have, there was always the chance that he would slip. It was, according to them, much safer to switch the roles so neither of them lost their minds or rationality to their instincts.

The other part of their scheme was understanding that it didn't break their vows if he took a cock that wasn't even real in his ass. He couldn't put his penis in them, but they could fuck him with a toy without consequence. It was the best way to embrace one another while keeping their vows intact. Sure, it felt like cheating to think that way, but he was fine with bending the rules so long as he was finally allowed to hold them. One way or another, he wanted them.

“Yes,” he finally responded.

Their smile as they grabbed his hips to steady him against their fake cock was like a warm summer to him. Their touch was hot. They radiated. He wanted to bask in them.

Sydney reached out to cling onto their biceps, digging his blunt nails into their skin as he felt the sting of his ass being pried open on their cock. Even with all they had done to prepare him, it still hurt beyond words.

His mouth fell open in a silent scream.

Before he could tell them to slow down or voice how much it hurt, they pressed themselves tightly against him so his face was buried against their shoulder.

“Shh,” they whispered as they continued to push their hips forward to force their way inside of him. “I know it's uncomfortable, but you're doing so well. That feeling is proof that we're finally together.”

Sydney tried to listen to their words, but the sweet, sticky scent of freshly gathered pomegranates overwhelmed all of his other senses.

“Don't worry.” Their hips slammed forward into his. “It’ll feel good soon. Then I'll fuck that rut out of you.”

He could only grip onto them harder, both for stability and so he could keep pressing his nose against them to inhale their entrancing scent. Even if it hurt to lie under them, he would ensure it just so they could be joined together. He loved them. He needed them. He knew that they were the only omega that he would ever want.

That's why he could do this without complaining or stopping; because he had faith that they would finally pass the rite next month when they were allowed to try again.

[banapsha]

The Art of Plot Twists: A God-Tier Guide

Hey there, sunshine(s) and moonlight(s)! Do you want to rock your readers' worlds with mind-boggling plot twists? Well, lucky for you, I recently met a mind reader in my basement and they told me you want to know this. Buckle up, because we're about to begin a journey into the abyss. Kidding! We are going to the Kingdom of Twistano-Turnano; narratives that'll leave jaws on the floor and minds on some walls. Strap in, grab your favorite snacks and let's get this party started. (I believe that one was too much, right? Coz’ who’s got time for any parties? Or am I the only one missing out?) 

What Makes a Good Plot Twist?

Let's kick things off with the basics. A plot twist isn't just about throwing in a random curveball– oh no, it's about shaking up the very fabric of your story. A meaningful plot twist should be a seismic shift in the audience's perception, whether it's through an unexpected event, a shocking revelation, or a philosophical awakening. We're talking external, internal, and philosophical shifts that make the audiences question everything they thought they knew. It's about changing your audience's reality.

The Three Types of Shifts: External, Internal, and Philosophical

The external shift– think unexpected deaths, hidden treasures, and jaw-dropping identity reveals. These twists are all about rearranging plot elements in ways that leave readers gasping for air.

The internal shift– this one's all about messing with your audience's emotions. One minute they're feeling all warm and fuzzy, and the next, BAM! You hit 'em with an event that leaves them shaken to the core. Just make sure to keep things clear, or you'll have a bunch of confused readers scratching their heads.

The philosophical shift– the granddaddy of all plot twists. This one's all about making your audience question their beliefs and perceptions. You take 'em from thinking they've got it all figured out to realize that maybe, just maybe, they've been wrong all along.

To really knock your readers' socks off, you gotta apply all three shifts. That's right, no half-measures here. Using just one or missing one entirely is just going to confuse the shit out of your audiences. Trust me, you don't wanna do that.

What makes a plot twist good?

Shock Value: First things first, a good plot twist needs to pack a punch. We're talking about leaving your readers reeling, jaws on the floor, and minds blown. If it doesn't make 'em gasp, it ain't worth it. The key is to not settle for the first twist that comes to mind. Dig deep, get creative, and find a way to really knock your readers' socks off.

Believability: Sure, we love a good surprise, but it's gotta make sense, ya know? You can't just say that the human we have been following around is a dog disguised as a pizza! Nope, we ain't gone believe that boy. Keep it real. Actually, the real(er) the better. Foreshadowing is your best friend. Drop hints, plant seeds, and lay the groundwork for your twist early on. That way, when it finally hits, it'll feel like a natural progression of the story. (Maybe show me a barking human to make me go along with the pizza dog twist.)

Impact on Characters AND Plot: A truly great plot twist doesn't just shake things up for the sake of it. It needs to have real consequences, affecting not only the characters but the entire storyline. Don't just focus on the shock factor – think about how your twist will affect your characters and your plot. Will it send them spiraling into chaos? Will it force them to confront their deepest fears? Make it count.

Variety in Tropes: Cliched tropes are good but if you can manage to twist it up, that's even better. Try to give us something we've never seen before. Surprise us, delight us, and keep us guessing 'til the very end. But don't be afraid to break the mold. Sure, some tropes are tried and true, but the best twists are the ones that defy expectations. Surprise your readers, challenge their assumptions, and leave 'em begging for more.

Timing: Timing is literally everything. You need to build up to the right moment for that twist like a mastermind supervillain. Keep your readers on their toes. Drop breadcrumbs along the way, build up the tension, ratchet up the suspense, and then hit 'em with that (do-do do-do) twist right when they least expect it. You gotta know exactly when to drop that grenade. Trust me, it'll be worth the wait.

Plot Twist Techniques:

Breadcrumbs: The classic "how did I not see this coming" twist. Make 'em scratch their heads and wonder, "How did I miss that?" Lay the groundwork for your twist by dropping subtle hints and clues throughout your story. It's all about planting those breadcrumbs and watching your readers play Sherlock Holmes.

Misdirection: The good ol' red herring. Lead your readers down one path, only to yank the rug out from under them at the last minute. Get 'em emotionally invested in a particular outcome, then flip the script and watch 'em squirm. Mix this with the breadcrumbs and you have a beautiful pie.

The False Win: Picture this – your characters are riding high, victory is in sight, and then BAM! You hit 'em with the ultimate plot twist: it's not over yet. Give 'em a false sense of comfort, then snatch it away like a cruel twist of fate. 

The Unprovoked: Ever seen a plot twist  that leaves you scratching your head and wondering, "Where did that come from?" That's the unprovoked twist. It happens out of nowhere, catching everyone off guard and leaving 'em reeling. It's unexpected, it's unpredictable, and it's oh-so deliciously twisty.

Types of Twists: The classics

Identity Reveal: Remember the "I am your father" moment? Yes. There's nothing quite like the shock of discovering that a character's true identity isn't what it seems. Whether it's a long-lost twin or a secret agent in disguise, identity reveals never fail to leave readers gasping for air. Mix it up to make it newer and you have an even tastier sandwich.

Motive Reveal: Ever wondered why that one seemingly innocent character was acting so shady? Well, it's time for a motive reveal – the moment when all becomes clear and the true intentions behind a character's actions are laid bare. It's like peeling back layers of an onion, only way more dramatic. (Plot twist: This entire post has been written so you will buy my book, The Sinner and The Scarred from Amazon! It is available in both Paperback and Ebook formats but if you have Kindle Unlimited you can read it for FREE!)

Background Reveal: Behind every great character is a great backstory. Well, these backstories can also be great plot twists. (What? The hero's love interest is the villain's child. WHAT? The hero's love interest is the villain! WHAT? THE HERO IS DATING BOTH THE VILLAIN AND THEIR CHILD!!) From dark secrets to hidden traumas, background reveals add depth and complexity to your story.

Character Deaths: Sometimes, the only way to shake things up is by "killing your darlings." Actually, whether it's a beloved hero sacrificing themselves for the greater good or a villain meeting their untimely demise, character deaths are guaranteed to leave readers in shock and awe. Especially when done right. (Set the mood for a fun wedding. Then kill someone at the wedding. Kill the bride. Or the groom. Kill 'em both. Have them kill each other!)

Destruction of Setting or Important Elements: Say goodbye to the status quo, because we're about to shake things up with a little destruction. Whether it's a beloved setting crumbling to the ground or a crucial element of the story being obliterated, destruction twists add a sense of urgency and chaos to your narrative. (Burn your hero's house down. Extra points if their family was still inside. Minus points if their dog was in there, though.)

Timeline Shift: A timeline shift can turn your story on its head, sending characters hurtling through time and space or revealing shocking truths about the past, present, and future. (It will be a weird way to find out you’re adopted, you know?)

Surprising Events in General: Sometimes, you just gotta throw caution to the wind and hit your readers with something completely unexpected. From random acts of kindness to bizarre coincidences, surprising events add an element of unpredictability to your story that'll keep readers guessing until the very end. 

Special Ability Reveal: The moment when a character discovers they've got powers beyond their wildest dreams, things start getting out of hand. Whether it's flying, telekinesis, or the ability to talk to animals, special ability reveals add a touch of magic and wonder to your story.

Do remember when it comes to plot twists, the sky's the limit. But placement is key. Whether it's smack dab in the middle of your story or right at the climax, the timing of your twist can make or break its impact. 

Now, let's touch on what NOT to do. Forced twists? No, thank you. Unbelievable plot developments? Hard pass. And let's not even get started on the dreaded plot armor– nothing kills the vibe faster than a last-minute rescue by bad writing. (Leave a comment if you’d like to learn more about what NOT to do!)

In conclusion, mastering the art of plot twists is no easy feat. It takes careful planning (AKA outlining of the story), strategic execution, and a whole lot of creativity. So go forth, soldiers, and twist those plots until they're unrecognizable. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility – don't abuse those twists, and always respect your readers' intelligence.

Now, go forth and twist to your heart's content. Happy writing! 🌀✨

[cattailbouquet]

TWF 4 Thoughts + Theories

TW: Suicide mention

This is quite long. I had a lot of thoughts.

I loved it! A huge part of what drew me to TWF in the first place was the bigger focus on the human characters, something that stuff like FNAF didn't have as much of at the time. And episode four DELIVERS. Imo, the best horror stories make you care about the victims and/or delight in the villain's terrible antics, and TWF does both super well.

Spoilers Below:

We finally met Charles! Him and Susan are fun to listen to. 

Banny continues to be a ladyfailure and smashes into a table. 

So apparently the facial recognition has always had an issue w/ Sophie? Huh.

The employee’s seeming disinterest in what's going on is a bit concerning? "I don't want anything to do with it." Charles I've got bad news.

Susan's death/undeath had been depicted several times already, which doesn't take away from what we see here. The Snap? The Breathing?? Those vile squelching noises??? The rabbit may be starving but I’m put off the next several meals.

"bon" was just as spooky as I'd hoped. I, among others, was under the impression that he was a representation of Bon's facial recognition system or A.I., but that doesn't seem to be the case, since we see him approach the robot? You horrible ghost man what is your deal. The happy little hand clasp Bon did after brutally murdering a woman was morbid enough to be hilarious. The scene of him talking to Susan in Wonderland was so eerie and sad.

Felix becomes a bigger slimeball by the second. He's so terrible in such a real way. The fact that he dug a grave for himself and then proceeded to back away from the cliff sums him up perfectly. He's too scared to take that kind of action on his own, but he'll dig a hole and wait to drop dead. Even in this, he will always choose inaction. Everything he does is to try to avoid consequences. He barely spares a second thought for the two little kids who loved him enough to call him "Uncle."

Edd and Molly are super cool. I was kind of expecting them to just hang around being scary and/or sad, but it looks like these two are going to be major players here. Bunnyfarm makes it seem like they're on board w/ the idea of Sophie joining them, but that might've been a misdirection. E+M might be opposed to the idea of becoming "beautiful"? Hydrogen bon vs. coughing babies.

Speculation/Ideas:

Does "bon" purposefully mangle the bodies in an attempt to push them into accepting becoming “beautiful”? Or is it a flaw in the Bon animatronic that “bon” is exploiting? Or both? Their faces don’t fit what the system says, so “bon” spurs the robot into trying to make them fit.

Edd seems weirdly ok with Susan wandering around the purgatory and needs to be nudged into action by Molly. I could see that causing problems later.

I had a feeling that Bon wasn’t Just Possessed By Jack. If it were that simple, Bunnyfarm would’ve been the perfect time to reveal it. If Jack is dead and connected to Bon, then he’s not the one at the wheel. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t dead at all. I have no clue why he would up and leave his family, though.

I could see E+M trying to stall “bon” by playing keep-away with the other victim’s souls, at least initially? They probably wouldn’t be successful with this until later down the line with Brian? Maybe? He’s the only victim who isn’t confirmed to be in an animatronic, nor does he talk about being “beautiful” like the others. We haven’t heard from him since episode one so this could easily change.

What oh what is that under the tarp? The little bedsheet ghost looking thing. A new friend, I hope.

All in all, a beautiful episode. Worth the wait! Can’t wait for 5+6!

[myrskytuuli]

Welp, I finally watched Longlegs...it was a dissapointment.

I was pretty hyped for Longlegs ever since the really intriguing trailer and very good marketing campaign started, and even went out of my way to avoid spoilers before seeing the movie. With expectations so high for another artistic, slow-paced, psychological horror ala Hereditary or the VVitch, I have to say I was left wanting. The more I rotated the movie in my head, the more dissapointed I get.

Warning here be spoilers!

Longlegs is a story about an FBI agent who displays slight psychic abilities on her first case and is then assigned to help with a perplexing serial killer case, the Longlegs case. In longlegs case all forensic evidence suggests a murder-suicide of a family, and cryptogram letters left on the crime scenes and signed by "Longlegs" are the only hint that someone or something else has been involved with the murders. The main character, Lee Harker, eventually finds out that the murders are commited via devil-worshiping man called Longlegs, who makes a life-sized, Satan-infested, doll resembling the family's daughter, gifting it to the family, which then possess the dad to kill the family and himself. In the end, Lee figures out that she was supposed to be one of the victims as s child and that her mom made a deal with the devil to help with the doll-murder-scheme in exchange for Lee's safety.

Let's start with the biggest, most obvious one. The titular character Longlegs is a transmisogynistic caricature who could just as well be a distasteful Daily Wire sketch spliced between the scenes of a serious horror movie. Longlegs, both the movie and the character, relies way too hard on the expectation that you will accept a close up of a middle-aged man in a badly applied lipstick to be a jumpscare in itself. But we will return to Longlegs the character little later. First, I want to talk about Longlegs the movie.

Longlegs is both too much and not enough. It markets itself as an occult detective mystery, but unfortunately instead of getting best of both worlds, it strips both the detective story and the occult story off of its most enjoyable elements. For a detective mystery there isn't much detecting, and for occult movie there isn't much occult.

A lot of occult horrors have gone out of their way to base their stories around real occult histories and as a consequence are full of easter eggs for those who recognise the historical nods. Hereditary references the Lesser Key of Solomon, The VVitch based its horror on real 1600 century archival texts, and even As Above So Below followed real alchemical traditions. This allowed those movies to avoid infodumbing lore, while still having internally consistant mythology that you can dig deeper into, if you want to. Longlegs does not do this. It handwaves towards the idea of satanic occult without ever creating its own internal mythology nor relying on one consistant real-life source. Which for me, personally, felt like a very frustrating experience, because you can't connect the dots of why whatever occult means are used.

Why was Lee getting visions of snakes? Because snakes are spooky and associated with the devil. Why were there bible quotes left at the crime scenes? Because they come from the Revelation and the revelation is the spooky chapter of the bible. Why were these murders being commited? Because Lucifer was bored. Why did the haunted dolls need vibrating metal spheres inserted inside their heads in order to be haunted? So that the doctor can put a stetoschope on one and hear evil vibrations. Why dolls? Because the director read a book about voodoo and found the idea of symphatetic magic spooky. (Not what symphatetic magic means btw. It has nothing to do with christian magic tradition or possession)

lacklustre magical theory could be excused, and I have excused in many other movies, with otherwise solid or entertaining plots, but this movie about catching a serial killer does not actually offer the viewer any clues to put together or follow the detective along the trail of mystery. rememeber that slightly psychic part? A huge mistake in my opinion, which cripples the movie for no reason. (Also, I really felt like the scene of the FBI having a psychic testing program was a leftover from an entirely different movie. Why was it there, what did it contribute??)

Lee is a passive vessel being led around by her psychic visions to every clue and revelation. She doesn't figure things out for herself, instead she receives answers from her visions or by her sixth sense, or by other people telling her the answers. She solves the Longlegs cryptogram because the Cipher is literally handed to her by Longlegs. She finds the picture of Longlegs by being guided to it by her sixth sense, and finally sees the final plotwist of the movie in a dream narrated to her by her mom. There is an actual literal flashback scene that explains the twist, without any lead up of the puzzle pieces slotting into place. As a mystery, it's bad.

okay but why is Longlegs even here? No, but for real. This is one of those movie tries to do too much moments. The movie's focus is supposed to be on Lee, solving a murder mystery, and her strained relationship with her mom, who is secretely killing people. But instead of letting that plot develop and breathe, too much time is spent following Longlegs, who is what? Middle-manager of this scheme? The scheme which goes like this:

Lucifer wants to kill people -> Lucifer contracts a socially maladjusted crossdresser named Longlegs to build dolls which Lucifer can then possess -> Longlegs contracts Ruth Harker to knock on people's doors dressed as a nun and smuggle the dolls inside people's houses -> Lucifer, once inside the house, influences the dad to murder his family and himself -> ???????profit

It's halfway through the movie, why, instead of getting any development for the main character, am I watching Lucifer's doll guy fail at making small talk at the convenience store???!!!!!

Okay, joking aside, lets talk about the transmisogyny and ableism.

Longlegs is an older man(?) who dresses in women's clothes and wears grotesque amounts of makeup, while exhibiting behaviours best described as autistic stims, and lives in Lee's mom's basement.

His mannerisms osciliate between childish deference to aggressive cussing in a way that brings to mind stereotypes of low-fucntioning autistic behaviour. It's very uncomfortable to watch and not in the way the movie wants. I think there is something almost darkly ironic in the way that thorought the whole movie, we never actually see Longlegs, the titular movie monster, do anything evil, and the entire loadbearing part of holding the movie's uncanny athmosphere rests on us finding Longlegs' behaviour creepy without seeing him commit any attrocities. Sure, the uncanniness is supposed to come from the fact that we know that he is the killer, but the movie doesn't want to show us that part. Imagine watching Friday the 13th but you only see Jason doing grocery shopping with his hockey mask on and hear about other characters talking about the murders that happened off-screen. no seriously, why is Longlegs here?

We never find out anything about Longlegs, why he worships Lucifer, why he started the murder doll-scheme with Lucifer in the first place, or what his history is. In the movie Longlegs, Longlegs doesn't matter. Lee finds a picture of him in her home and In the next scene he has been arrested. Longlegs kills himself during the police interview, and Lee goes off to find the actual important part of the mystery, her mom. So....why did we spend all that time with Lucifer's doll guy? Wouldn't all that time have been better spent slowly finding clues that reveal Lee's mom's as the perpetrator???

The metaphor of Longlegs is confused at best, if it even is supposed to have one, which I personally doubt. Sure, the director says is is about the darkness in us all and about families, but...is it?

Longlegs makes gestures towards wanting to be a movie about family violence, but it never arrives at it. The outside influence satanic panic is played comletely straight. There could be something about Ruth, the church lady, being allowed inside family homes because she looks trusthworthy, and bringing with her forces which lead to family violence, but the fact that the force causing the violence is literally the devil in league with a vaguelly inhuman (does he have magic powers? Maybe?) crossdresser kind of kneecaps that interpretation. Allowing strangers inside your suburban home is the root of all evil in this movie. Even Ruth joined in leagues with Longlegs under duress, after home invasion.

The deepest the movie gets is that sometimes parents lie to their children and that makes those children distant from their parents. But that's the literal thing that happens in the movie, this movie isn't really a metaphor for anything in the way that Hereditary or Nope or any other horror movie that seamlessly functions as both good in-universe storie and out-universe fable.

Okay, so there is one very redeeming part this movie has and it's Bill Clinton's giant portrait looming over way more scenes than you would expect, with the energy that I would best describe as Laura Palmer's photograph in the end credits of Twin Peaks. Somehow, Bill Clinton is haunting this narrative.

[bnhaobservation]

Ramblings about the Todoroki family - Part 1

So it’s finally time for me to try to dig into the Todoroki family, their dynamics and their history.

PREMISE

Someone might have been wondering why I waited so long before making a post for my very own favorite family, the Todoroki family.

Well, truth is I’ve plenty of drafts for a Todoroki family post, taken from various different angles which never ended up being posted because the Todoroki family has some HUGE narrative problems that have nothing to do with the family problems.

The first problem isn’t really a problem but a fact: as BNHA is a Japanese manga, most of the Todorokis’ issues are tied and being seen through the Japanese culture, and Japanese culture is different by the various western ones, so one needs to dig into it to understand what’s going on with them… which is long and time consuming and can end up distracting from the main topic, the Todorokis… never mentioning I’m not really an expert in Japanese culture.

The second, which is, if possibly, even huger, is that the Todoroki family suffered plenty of retcon through the serialization of the manga. This is not a complain, this is generally how manga work. Many manga don’t necessarily follow a detailed and pre planned storyline but, at best, a general outline so the author makes up the story as they go… and might be asked/forced to change it as they go, or decide to do it on their own because they came up with something better or realized something wasn’t working. If you decide to read a long manga, this can very well end up being part of your reading experience, one you’ve to accept and that however brings, as a consequences, that things can end up being tossed in without foreshadowing or that a present development can clash with a past one… which cause troubles when we place the facts that form the past of the Todorokis family in a chronological order and try to study their impact on the characters and their psychological behavior and stumble upon contradictions or behaviors that make no sense or give the ‘wrong impression’ (as ‘not the impression Horikoshi wanted us to have of the characters) because… such past facts were inserted retroactively and so couldn’t influence certain scenes when they should have.

So, how I’m going to go with this meta?

So as to give a more cohesive talk about how the Todoroki’s history was I’ll still analyze the family’s history chronologically (where with chronologically I don’t refer to the printing order but to the order in which facts were supposed to happen according to the BNHA timeline) but I’ll go at it in this way.

I’ll divide their history in parts so yeah this will be a multipart meta. Each part will be analyzed in 4 sections.

The first section will be labeled ‘Canon information’ and will be a mere retelling of the canon info with transcriptions of the dialogues in it and images/panels/pages from the manga so as to refresh everyone what the canon says about a certain part and also because I’LL STICK TO CANON AS MUCH AS IT’S HUMANLY POSSIBLE, WHEN IT’S CONRADICTING I’LL POINT IT OUT AND, IF SOMETHING IS NOT CANON BUT A LOGICAL SPECULATION OF MINE, I’LL LET YOU KNOW.

The second section will be labeled ‘Cultural info’ and will be a quick listing of topics tied to Japanese culture with a minimal explanation. It doesn’t exist to give you a deep and comprehensive explanation, just a quick reference so, if you’re interested, you can document yourself about it on your own and better understand the story. Mind you, I’m not Japanese so I might miss something or not explain something clearly enough, which is why I recommend YOU’ll be the one to document yourself using the info I share merely as a crutch to make your research easier.

The third section will be labeled ‘Doylist commentary’. Doylist commentary takes the name from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the Real Life author of the Holmes stories. They consider the Todoroki history as a created object, and prefer exegetic explanations with particular attention to the author’s intentions. Doylist commentaries can include “The author changed his mind” or “The author forgot this” or “There was no time for inserting this” or “Here the author is just using/referencing a certain trope” or “The author is just applying the Anthropic Principle (for any given story, there exist basic elements that, no matter how improbable or impossible their occurrence, are required for the story itself to happen, or there would be no story) or the MST3K Mantra (some details in the story don’t need to make sense because they ultimately don’t matter), asking us to suspend our disbelief on how it wouldn’t work logically in the story” or “With this scene the author is trying to carry on this theme/message”. Please DO NOT view the Doylist commentary as a “let’s complain about the story” corner. As said before, things like the author changing his mind or deciding that something impossible can indeed happen or forgot he previously said a certain thing and now he’s saying the opposite are part of the creative process of a manga, but understanding why the author had something happen can be useful to have a better grasp of the story and not give certain scenes a meaning they weren’t intended to have. Of course I’m not Horikoshi nor I worked with him to make the manga so, in this section, I’ll often talk of what I’ll assume was Horikoshi’s purpose to add a certain scene or why a certain problem happened which means I might be wrong.

The forth section will be labeled ‘Watsonian commentary’. Watsonian commentary takes the name from Dr. John Watson, Holmes’ friend and supposed chronicler of his adventures in-universe. They explain the Todoroki history within the logic of the narrative. Watsonian explanations are things like “Character X was lying”, “This happened in a scene we didn’t see”, and “Character X did this because he was thinking that”. So, basically, when I’ll make a Watsonian comment instead I’ll focus on the characters, their lives, their psychology and the effect everything has on them.

With this said let’s start with the Todoroki family.

TODOROKI ENJI’S ORIGIN AND TEENAGER YEARS (Chap. 356 + Chap. 3-86-192-319, Team Up Mission 33, School Briefs I Epilogue and School Briefs III Dramatic Makeover!)

Canon information:

Chronologically speaking, the earliest bit of Todoroki history is in Chap. 356 and shows a middle school Enji standing under the rain looking at a disaster area while his father’s body is being carried away after the man died fighting a man in an attempt to save a girl, causing her too to die as well.

This scene is labeled by the narrator (a high school Enji) as ‘Enji’s origin’ and the proof he’ll never be a superhero.

We also then see Enji at U.A. choosing his Hero name, ‘Endeavor’ the narrator calling this choice the proof of Enji’s menial nature. Students in U.A. choose their Hero name on their first year of high school short after the sport festival so, while we can see that the Enji who chooses his Hero name is older than the one who watched his father die, although comparatively they should be close in age (from 3 to 1 year of difference).

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Sara ni yowaku natta.’ 轟炎司「更に弱くなった。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “You became beyond weak.”

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Tachiba to tsugunai to ayamachi to sekinin ga. Omae no seirai no yowasa o abaki dashi miru ni taenai guzu e to hikizuri oroshita. Chōjin ni wa narenainda yo Enji (read: omae) wa. 轟炎司「立場と償いと過ちと責任が。おまえの生来の弱さを曝き出し見るに堪えない愚図へと引きずり下ろした。超人にはなれないんだよ炎司（おまえ）は。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “Position, atonement, mistakes and responsibility. Your innate weakness was exposed and I can’t bear to see how you were dragged down into an indecisive person. Enji (read: you) can’t become a superhuman.”

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Genten o omoi dase. Teki ga nandatta no ka o?’ 轟炎司「原点を思い出せ。敵が何だったのかを。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “Remember your origin. Who was the enemy?”

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Akkan kara shōjo o sukuou to shi kekka shōjo moro tomo nikukai to ka shita chichi o’ 轟炎司「悪漢から少女を救おうとし結果少女もろとも肉塊と化した父を。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “Your father tried to save a girl from a scoundrel and, as a result, he and the girl were turned into a lump of meat.”

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Shin no chōjin e no senbō to higami o.’ 轟炎司「真の超人への羨望と僻みを。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “Your envy and inferiority complex toward a true superhuman.”

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘“Doryoku (read: ‘ENDEAVOR’)” to nanoru hikutsu na shōne o.’ 轟炎司「〝努力〟（エンデヴァー）と名乗る卑屈な性根を。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “You called yourself ‘effort’ (read: ‘Endeavor’) due to your menial nature.”

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Kojishite inakereba tamotenu teido no minikui kokoro o.’ 轟炎司「誇示していなければ保てぬ程度の醜い心を。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “Unless you’re putting on airs you can’t sustain your ugly heart.”

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Sō. Omae wa ALL MIGHT ni mo DEKU ni mo narenai Enji (read: ore) wa itsumo jibun no yowasa to shika tatakatte nakatta kara, dakara umare kawarou nante kangaeruna.’ 轟炎司「そうおまえはオールマイトにもデクにもなれない炎司（おれ）はいつも自分の弱さとしか戦ってなかったから、だから 生まれ変わろうなんて考えるな。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “Yes. You can’t become All Might or Deku because Enji (read: I) was always fighting only against his (my) own weaknesses, so don’t think about being reborn.”

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘“Onore no yowasa (read: teki)” o noroi tsudzukero, yuiitsu sore dake ga omae o ikashite kita no dakara.’ 轟炎司「〝己の弱さ（てき）〟を呪い続けろ、唯一それだけがおまえを生かしてきたのだから。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “Keep cursing ‘your own weakness (read: the enemy)’, because that is the only thing that has kept you alive.” [Chap. 356]

Prior to this bit, the manga and other source mentioned how Enji had been an U.A. student from pretty early on, as Enji as always been planned to be tied to U.A. and in Horikoshi’s early plan later scrapped he was also meant to be a teacher at U.A. High. We’ve in fact a mention of him having been a U.A. student as early as in Chap. 3. It’s not said who does the narration, in the anime this bit is said by Midoriya so I’ve assumed this applies here too, though another recurring narrator is Present Mic. As he wasn’t introduced yet though, I think choosing Midoriya as a narrator made sense.

Midoriya Izuku ‘U.A. kōkō HERO-ka‼ Soko wa PRO ni hissu no shikaku shutoku o mokuteki to suru yōsei-kō! Zenkoku dōkachū, mottomo ninki de mottomo muzukashiku, sono bairitsu wa reinen 300 o koeru‼ Kokumin eiyoshō ni dashin sa reru mo kore o koji‼ “ALL MIGHT”‼ Jiken kaiketsu-sū shijō saita! Nenshō-kei HERO “ENDEAVOR”‼ BEST JEANIST 8 nen renzoku jushō‼”BEST JEANIST”! Idaina (read: GRATEFUL) HERO ni wa o U.A. sotsugyō ga zettai jōken nano da‼.’ 緑谷出久「雄英高校ヒーロー科‼そこはプロに必須の資格取得を目的とする養成校！全国同科中、最も人気で最も難しく、その倍率は例年３００を超える‼国民栄誉賞に打診されるもこれを固辞‼『オールマイト』‼事件解決数史上最多！燃焼系ヒーロー『エンデヴァー』‼ベストジーニスト8年連続受賞‼『ベストジーニスト』！偉大な（グレイトフル）ヒーローには雄英卒業が絶対条件なのだ‼」 Midoriya Izuku “U.A. High School’s Hero Course! It’s a training school where students acquire the qualifications necessary to become professionals! It’s the most popular and difficult course in the country, with the competition rate exceeding 300 every year! The one who was offered the People’s Honor Award but firmly refused! “All Might”! The person who solved the most cases in history! The burning hero “Endeavor”! Winner of the Best Jeanist award for 8 consecutive years! “Best Jeanist”! Graduating from U.A. is an absolute requirement for being a great (read: grateful) hero!” [Chap. 3]

Best Jeanist also remarks how Enji is an alumnus so he should help U.A.

Todoroki Enji ‘Nande ore ga U.A. no shirinugui o… kochira mo isogashī nodaga.’ 轟炎司「何で俺が雄英の尻拭いを…こちらも忙しいのだが。」 Todoroki Enji “Why should I have to clean up after U.A.? We’re busy here too.”

BEST JEANIST ‘MaA sō iwazu ni… OB deshou.’ ベストジーニスト「まァそう言わずに…OBでしょう。」 Best Jeanist “Well, don’t say that. You’re an alumnus, aren’t you?”

Tsukauchi Naomasa ‘U.A. kara wa ima HERO o yobenai. Taikyoku o mitekure ENDEAVOR. Konkai no jiken wa HERO shakai hōkai no kikkake ni mo nari eru sōryoku o motte kaiketsu ni ataraneba.’ 塚内直正「雄英からは今ヒーローを呼べない。大局を見てくれエンデヴァー。今回の事件はヒーロー社会崩壊の切っ掛けにもなり得る総力をもって解決にあたらねば。」 Tsukauchi Naomasa “We can’t call in any heroes from U.A. right now. Look at the big picture, Endeavor. This incident could be the start of the collapse of hero society, so we must use all our strength to solve it.” [Chap. 86]

Later we’re also told how he knows Recovery Girl by a long time due to this.

RECOVERY GIRL ‘OB no yoshimi de kite ageta yo. Soreni ima wa mō No.1 HERO da mono ne.’ リカバリーガール「OBのよしみで来てあげたよ。それに今はもうNo.1ヒーローだものね。」 Recovery Girl “I came for you since you were an alumnus. Besides, you’re also the No. 1 hero now.’ [Chap. 192]

Chap 319 also remarks how Enji is an U.A. alumnus…

Uraraka Ochako ‘ENDEAVOR-tte U.A. sotsu da yo ne............... Gōin ni ikou.’ 麗日お茶子「エンデヴァーって雄英卒だよね……………強引に行こう。」 Uraraka Ochako “Endeavor is a graduate of U.A., right?... Let’s go for it forcefully.” [Chap. 319]

… and the fact Nezu comments on his growth seems to imply he too, same as Recovery Girl, knew him from that time.

Todoroki Enji ‘………Soto wa kiken da chitsujo ga nai. Omae-tachi made──’ 轟炎司「………外は危険だ秩序が無い。おまえたちまで──」 Todoroki Enji “…It’s dangerous out there. There’s no order. Even you guys...”

Nezu ‘Otona ni natta ne… Todoroki-kun…!!’ 根津「大人になったね…轟くんくん…‼」 Nezu “You’ve grown up/matured... Todoroki-kun...!!” [Chap. 319]

The side material also tried to expand a bit on Enji’s past school life.

There is, for example, this bit in the spin off manga “Team Up Mission”:

Īda Tenya ‘Sorezore ga hirotta GOMI no sōryō o kiroku! Tadashi “kosei” shiyō-fuka! Onore no junsui na tairyoku nomi de shinkiroku o mezasu nōkin EVENT nanda! Chinamini rekidai No. 1 kiroku hoji-sha wa ENDEAVOR da.’ 飯田天哉「それぞれが拾ったゴミの総量を記録！ただし〝個性〟使用不可！己の純粹な体力のみで新記録を目指す脳筋イベントなんだ！ちなみに歴代No.1記録保持者はエンデヴァーだ。」 Īda Tenya “Each person records the total amount of trash they have picked up! However, they cannot use their “quirks”! It’s a muscle-brained event where they aim to set a new record using only their own physical strength! Incidentally, the all-time record holder is Endeavor.”

Todoroki Shōto ‘!’ 轟焦凍「! 」 Todoroki Shōto “!”

Midoriya Izuku ‘ENDEAVOR ga… ALL MIGHT no kiroku wa?’ 緑谷出久「エンデヴァーが…オールマイトの記禄は？」 Midoriya Izuku “It was Endeavor...what about All Might’s record?”

Īda Tenya ‘ALL MIGHT wa igainimo yoi kiroku ga nokotte inai. Ippanjin ni hanashikake rare GOMI hiroi dokorode wa nakatta sōda.’ 飯田天哉「オールマイトは意外にも良い記録が残っていない。一般人に話しかけられゴミ拾いどころではなかったそうだ。」 Īda Tenya “Surprisingly, All Might doesn’t have a good record. Apparently he was approached by members of the public and had no time to pick up trash.”

Midoriya Izuku ‘Tōji kara ninki-sha sugiru…!’ 緑谷出久「当時から人気者すぎる… ！」 Midoriya Izuku “He was so popular even back then!”

Todoroki Shōto ‘Oyaji ga…’ 轟焦凍「親父が…」 Todoroki Shōto “My father was…” [Mission 33]

And then these bits from “School Briefs” show first Enji and Recovery Girl interacting, confirming they know by a long time…

“Well, if it isn’t Endeavor. How long has it been?” It was U.A.’s school nurse, Youthful Heroine: Recovery Girl. Contrary to her title, the elderly healer walked with a syringe-shaped cane and had her hair tied up in a neat bun. “Recovery Girl! Good to see you,” said Endeavor, managing to mind his manners for someone he’d known nearly all his life. [“School Briefs I Epilogue”]

…and then Recovery Girl saying so to Shōto as well, also trying to tell him how his father was at school.

“It still hasn’t hit me that Endeavor’s boy is so grown up already.” “Huh…?” “I’ve been at U.A. a long time, you know? Known your father since he was a student here.” This mention of his father darkened Todoroki’s face, as if by reflex. “I was always treating him for scrapes, cuts and bruises back in those days. That boy put himself through the wringer, hoping to be the number one Hero someday.” Recovery Girl’s reminiscence triggered Todoroki’s memories from childhood and beyond-the sound of his father’s voice shouting at him. The voice always commanded the boy to succeed where his father had failed and grow into a Hero who could surpass All Might. Todoroki hated that voice with a passion. “Why, your father was so driven that, one time, in class…” “I’d rather not hear anything about that bastard… ma’am,” interrupted Todoroki. [“School Briefs III Dramatic Makeover!”]

...and ultimately deciding to let him know in a more veiled manner.

“All the boys and girls at U.A. tend to do their darnest. They always have. So be sure to give yourself credit where credit is due, now and then.” “Yes, ma’am.” Todoroki popped a gummy bear into his mouth. The chewy candy gave his tired body the small burst of sugar it needed. ‘Guess she’s saying that my bastard of a father did his best when he was here, too…?’ [“School Briefs III Dramatic Makeover!”]

Cultural info:

Oyakoko (親孝行 “filial piety”): An important Buddhist virtue of respecting and caring for one’s parents and that therefore requires the children ‘to be good’ to their parents, often through acts of great respect, kindness and support. It might sound nice but, although things are changing currently, in the past this meant doing what the parents wanted, including marrying who they were to pick up for you, provide them with grandchildren who would continue the family line, pursuing the career path they wanted (usually continuing the family business), fulfilling their ambitions, carry on  their grudges or even avenging them, plus taking care of them when they’re old, handling their funeral and taking care of them through Butsudan in which they would be enshrined.

Chōnan (長男 “first male son”): Again, things are changing but in the past the first male son was the one who would inherit everything and therefore the one on whom would fall most of the duties that came from filial piety, like taking over the family home, like continuing the family job, fulfilling his parents’ wishes and aspirations, marrying who his parents wanted, provide his parents with grandchildren, taking care of his aging parents and, later on, of their funeral rites and maintaining the Butsudan in which they would be enshrined. Nowadays there’s less pressure to do all this but expectations remain. The firstborn were to be educated more than his other siblings, often receiving special education that would help carry on his duties. The result was also lot of pressure was put on him, while lot less was placed on his siblings.

Butsuma (仏間 “room/space of the Butsudan”) and Butsudan (仏壇 “Buddhist altar”): The Butsuma is a room/space whose principal or exclusive function is containing a Butsudan, a shrine whose primary use is for paying respects to the Buddha, as well as to family members who have died and ancestors. In fact the Butsudan becomes the house/room of said deceased people. The fact we see what is likely Enji’s father’s photo in the Todoroki Butsuma implies he’s resting there and therefore, since Enji is taking care of that Butsudan, Enji should be the male firstborn. Also the Todorokis should have had a Butsudan and a Butsuma before Tōya’s death so, contrary to the fandom’s expectations, the Butsudan is clearly not in Tōya and Natsuo’s childhood room (what’s more, the room looks different from their own) but it always had its own room.

Doryoku (努力 “effort/endeavor”): In Japan there is a stronger belief in effort as opposed to innate ability. Effort is seen as necessary to fulfill a social obligation to family, peers, and community. From when they’re children Japanese people are forced to focus on their effort, seeing it as the cause of success. According to society, if a child does not succeed, they were not trying hard enough. This is unrelated to the child’s grades; children always need to put forth more effort. This gives you a better idea of what exactly Enji’s Hero name stand for, an acknowledgement he has no inborn talent like he thinks All Might has, that he’ll just compensate by putting more effort, that his effort will never be enough as he’ll continue to push himself.

Doylist commentary:

So… let’s start with which probably was Horikoshi’s aim as he added this bit about ‘Enji’s origin’.

All the main characters in BNHA have an origin story, be they Heroes or Villains. Some of them go so far as to have a chapter titled with their name and the word ‘origin’ (Midoriya, Shouto, Bakugō, Tenko & Tomura, All Might), sometimes going so far as to also name the volume in which that chapter appeared as such, some others have their own origin story but with a lot less fanfare (as in no chapter or volume named as such like, for example Kirishima, Jin, Himiko, Touya…).

It makes sense Horikoshi had wanted to give an ‘origin’ to Enji too, one that gives him more deep and that explains why he is the way he is.

The drama of Enji losing his father and having been helpless to act to stop it, which made him feel like he can never be a true Hero (remember how Midoriya instead is a TRUE Hero because he jumped into action despite being weak, timid and Quirkless?) isn’t a bad idea either.

What’s more, having Enji seems as if he’s about to give up then think at his origin and come back strong enough it seems he can take down All for One is undoubtedly a way to make the fight more interesting. The fight was stalling, then the Villains seem to have the upper hand then the Hero gets a boost in power and turn tables. It’s an old narrative trick but it always works.

Visually, Horikoshi uses the old trick of rain in place of tears which never gets old as far as I’m involved. What can I say, I like it, I like the way it expresses the pain of a character in a discreet way.

It also… kind of try to smooth again Enji’s position.

In his prototype  Enji was meant to be just a guy obsessed with respecting rules. In Shouto’s prototype he valued strength and married Rei to create a strong child but it seemed as if it was Rei the ‘bad guy’ as Shouto hated her and wanted Enji’s love. The final plan, the one we read, had him forcing Shouto to endure abusive training, Rei trying to protect Shouto and ending up being abused in turn, with Rei snapping, losing it and ending up in hospital and Shouto completely rejecting Enji.

He went from a guy who was just obsessed with rules to the BAD GUY of the Todoroki house.

Apparently though, Horikoshi was never fond of this evolution for a character he originally created with the purpose of him being cool, respectful to law, well liked by people and kind of a comical relief (he said Enji would stop at traffic lights even when chasing a Villain…) which is likely why Horikoshi ended up on placing him on an atonement path.

Giving him this ‘origin’ feels like one of the many attempts through the story to make Enji more sympathetic, this time by giving him a sad backstory as a motive for why he’s the way he is, instead than just his jealousy and this is totally fair. There’s nothing wrong into wanting to give a character more deep by giving him a sad backstory. People who do bad things don’t necessarily have to be two dimensional bad guys, especially if you want to put them on an atonement path.

However there are problems with this new bit.

For start… the fact that Enji’s ‘origin’ wasn’t foreshadowed at all (just think at how we could have seen previously Enji’s father’s photo in the Butsudan room, and instead it’s shown only now, or how Enji’s father could have gotten mentioned, even with a random ‘he lost his father when he was young, so he doesn’t know how to be a father’) seems to imply Horikoshi came up with this bit way too late in the story, possibly when the final war started. I mean, All Might gets an ‘origin’ chapter even much later (chap. 398), but it was teased and foreshadowed long ago. There’s nothing of the sort for this extra bit of story. Even in the many bits mentioning how Enji attended to U.A. there’s no hint of such revelation, I don’t know, by having someone say he had to go to a part time job to pay for his living expense/scholarship or comment on how his teachers were the only adult figures he had in his life or that he didn’t have his father’s support or that he was trying so hard for his father also. Although this revelation is supposed to be important it comes out of nowhere, way too late in the manga for the story to build up upon it.

Second… the readers were persuaded they already knew Enji’s ‘origin’, that he became the way he was when he realized he couldn’t surpass All Might despite his attempts in terms of strength. We had plenty of scenes telling us this. Yes, it can be Horikoshi wanted to surprise us… but when the surprise comes out so late and in such a rushed manner that not even the anime felt like investing in this (in the anime the scene is not expanded but exactly as it is in the manga and they even cut the bit hinting Enji’s father photo is in the Butsuma) readers find hard to invest in it as well. This is a story with 430 chapters, chap 356 is way too late to have a revelation on one of the main characters’ ‘origins’, especially when, until chap 356, there was already an origin story for Enji of some sort, which was the one that chap. 31-93-165-188 pushed forward.

Third, as I said, it feels rushed because Enji’s father’s death takes a grand total of three panels for half a page. There is no other ‘origin’ story that takes so little, especially if we compare it to all the time Horikoshi spent talking about/showing his other ‘origin’ story, the one of Enji being forced to accept he couldn’t surpass All Might. Horikoshi wanted the focus to be on Enji, so has no real interest in explaining what exactly happened with Enji’s father, with the result it creates more questions than answers which end up shifting the attention away from Enji himself as people try to figure out what happened that day. So, while the message seems to be that Enji, was indecisive (of if you like more how Touya put it, a coward) and, like Kirishima, came to believe he wasn’t Hero material because he didn’t sprint to action like All Might and Midoriya would have done and, differently from Kirishima, didn’t manage to cope with the revelation in the right way… well, this is just my speculation. It’s unclear if this is really his problem, and the lack of clarity makes the scene even weaker.

Forth, it’s a pity Enji’s father’s death scene isn’t connected to All Might, since All Might should have returned in Japan around the time Enji’s father died and the incident in which Enji’s father died could have also been the one in which All Might for the first time saved so many people. It would have added to the Enji-All Might’s feud, with Enji failing to save his father and Enji’s father failing to save the girl but All Might succeeding into saving everyone else except his father. Mind you, it wasn’t mandatory but since the two incidents happen close in time, if we’ve been done they were one and the same this incident might have felt less tossed in and more foreshadowed. Not much but… a bit more. Instead it wasn’t.

Fifth, yes, Enji has hesitated and had been indecisive other times and they all regarded his family… but each time the circumstances were so different it’s hard to see a pattern, it seems more like a coincidence.

So in the end Enji’s ‘origin’ feels like something Horikoshi didn’t really plan in advance, and that merely used as a device to give Enji a boost of power, to make him stand again after receiving a serious hit and fight even harder. Since it feels like it’s something ‘forced’ into the story at the last minute, it’s emotional impact is lessened than it should have been.

People were delighted when Dabi turned out to be Touya and felt satisfied when the guy who carried Tenko back home turned out to have been All for One because both facts were foreshadowed. Even Geten being a Himura or Touya’s Quirk being more than just a fire Quirk had some foreshadowing but this came out of nowhere and what’s worse, it went nowhere.

There’s no consequence for this reveal beyond the power up Enji receives, the strength he finds inside himself, when he thinks at all this. This story is not touched upon again, and, while I compared it to Kirishima’s backstory, not only Kirishima’s backstory got more deep and more time to be developed, but it even came back late in the story, when he and Ashido faced Machia.

Enji instead won’t think at his father ever again, Horikoshi not using it for any other part of the story to the point that it becomes the equivalent of giving to a beaten Saiyan a Senzu beam (for who’s unfamiliar with “Dragon Ball” senzu bean if eaten fully healed people and when Saiyan healed they became magically stronger). It’s a peep talk his younger self gave him to make him stand up and that’s all.

It’s a pity because the idea was actually instead really good, not only if explored it could become more moving but it could fit very well with Enji’s characterization and the whole theme of fatherhood opposed to focusing on heroism… of trauma that pushed him to do the wrong choices like it did for his son, of accepting he chased after the wrong thing, strength opposed to wish to help (which is what moved All Might and Midoriya) but no, it just will end up being shelved a moment after being used. It won’t come up again so that it feels more like one of those little bits of info Horikoshi put in his profiles than a real scene of the story.

On a special note let’s look at two sentences.

The first is this one:

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Sara ni yowaku natta.’ 轟炎司「更に弱くなった。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “You became beyond weak.” [Chap. 356]

…which seems to be chosen purposely to mockingly remind Enji (and us) of…

PRESENT MIC ‘Sara ni mukō e! “Plus Ultra”!!’ プレゼント・マイク「更に向こうへ! 〝Plus Ultra〟‼」 Present Mic “Further beyond! ‘Plus Ultra’!!” [Chap. 3]

This sentence is said by Present Mic in Chap. 3 and it’s U.A. high school motto and you might remember hearing it at the end of each preview of the anime episodes.

The other sentence is the one about young Enji asking to his older self who was the enemy.

Todoroki Enji (young) ‘Genten o omoi dase. Teki ga nandatta no ka o?’ 轟炎司「原点を思い出せ。敵が何だったのかを。」 Todoroki Enji (young) “Remember your origin. Who was the enemy?” [Chap. 356]

It’s hard to catch it in the English version but in the Japanese version “Villain” is written with the kanji ‘teki’ (敵) which means “enemy” but is given the reading “VILLAIN” (ヴィラン), while the sentence might be using the word “enemy” merely because it fits to drive home the concept, it can also be it’s implying Enji’s real enemy aren’t Villains but his own weakness.

Also teenager Enji talks of a ‘Shin no chōjin’ (真の超人 “true superhuman”). ‘Chōjin’ is how the name of the DC Comics Hero Superman is translated and it’s likely used it to show a parallel between All Might and Superman… however, ironically, not much after Enji himself will use a Superman’s move. In fact Superman can project beams of heat from his eyes which are hot enough to melt steel and Enji will do just the same in his fight with All for One.

What’s more, in Japanese this word sounds tied to ‘Chōjō’ (超常 “supernatural”). Where supernatural comes into play in the story? This word appears right from Chap. 1, although the English manga translated it as “exceptional” and later decided to translate it as just Quirk (even though in Japanese when they want to say “Quirk” they use ‘kosei’ (個性) or ‘Inō’ (異能 “Meta Ability” lit. “Extraordinary Ability”).

It’s a series of interesting nice bits that get lost in translation but are worth mentioning.

There’s not much to say on the tiny bit that referenced how Enji had been a U.A. student as they’re not much more than that, tiny bit that reference how Enji had been a U.A. student. They’re many but through the manga, they’re not really attempt at flashing Enji out beyond the fact he knew Recovery Girl and Nezu from back then.

It kind of clashes with how, in Enji’s ‘origin’, Horikoshi decided to depict him as an U.A. student as if that had been important but… we hardly learn something about his time there, his origin happening PRIOR to it. It’s not a sin it’s just… a pity… especially because it also clashes with how Class A is represented as close even after 8 years while neither All Might nor Enji seem to have friends, or at least ex-classmates, from their time at U.A. among the other Pro. Sure, as said before it wasn’t super important for the narrative but it still feels weird (especially in All Might’s case as he was a social person) how no one of their classmates is, at least, in the business. Sure, Horikoshi might have thought he had ENOUGH characters tied with U.A. so it makes sense he didn’t want to give them classmates, especially since he likely didn’t know he would late add that bit o

The only two which made an attempt to flesh him out more are the bit from “Team-up” which remarks how he put hard effort in doing things to the point he surpassed All Might and the bit in “School Briefs” in which Recovery Girl wants to tell Shouto how hard Enji used to work as a student. That second bit again can be seen as again an attempt at presenting him in a more sympathetic light but, especially for western readers, it doesn’t work so well as, in the narration, it comes in contraposition with how he mistreated Shouto when training him. It would have worked much better if Recovery Girl had just thought at all that by herself. I don’t really want to dig any further in this because I’ll talk about Shouto’s training later, when it’ll be time for it, so for now let’s leave it at this.

Watsonian commentary:

The scene of Enji’s father’s death is more like a flash so we don’t really know the details, but we can still extrapolate something out of it.

For start Enji’s age. He’s likely at middle school when his father dies as what he’s wearing seems a summer school uniform, but it’s different from U.A. school uniform. Enji seems as tall as an adult, considering how tall he’ll become it’s possible he was already that tall in middle school, but it would be too much of a stretch to assume he was that tall in Elementary school.

We aren’t told if the guy threatening the girl is a Villain, which is interesting as well as the text content itself with calling it a ‘akkan’ (悪漢) literally a “bad/evil man” (alternatively you can translate it as “thug, rascal, scoundrel”).

In BNHA a Villain (敵 （ヴィラン） ‘teki (read: VILLAIN)’) is “someone who uses his Quirk to commit crimes”.

I’ve hard time thinking we’re prior to the time in which people started using the term “Villain”, so all I can assume is that the guy wasn’t using his Quirk to commit that crime, hence he couldn’t be labeled as such.

We aren’t told if Enji’s father was a Hero or someone who just decided to act to protect a little girl, just that instead that saving her he ended up causing his own dead along with hers. Since the place is a disaster area and kids inherit their parents’ Quirk, it is possible Enji’s father too had a fire Quirk and, attempting to use it, either in attack or self defense caused an explosion that killed everyone, included the girl he wanted to save.

We see Enji witnessing as his father’s corpse is taken away. We don’t know if he’s standing there because he froze when he should have instead acted and helped/saved his father and/or the girl or if he just came there too late, but the message we can extrapolate is he feels his ‘origin’ is one of a person who can’t be a Hero because he had failed to jump in action to save people (and especially his father) because he’s been indecisive and this had lead him to stalling instead than saving.

Possibly it wasn’t just fear, possibly he let himself be caught up by other thoughts, for example that if he were to use his Quirk he would commit a crime (it’s unknown if the whole thing was inspired by Horikoshi but in “Vigilantes” Enji expresses views which strongly disapprove of Vigilantism… this might be a consequence of what happened to his father if he acted even if he weren’t a Hero… or it could have been inside him already and might have caused him to hesitate) or maybe it was just his father who told him to wait there and he didn’t want to disobey.

Of maybe it was cowardice, Touya will blame him of being a coward and he won’t deny it, back then he was afraid to act , to go against a scoundrel and just stalled.

Or, as I said before, weakness was the problem. His father was weak so he failed to save himself and the little girl. Enji knew he was too weak to defeat the Villain so he didn’t act because he was weak, and therefore he failed to save his father and the little girl.

We don’t know.

Now this little scene can have plenty of consequences for Enji (which, unluckily, the story never explored).

Middle school is a time in which children are in a delicate age.

Teenagers start to search for a sense of self and personal identity, through an intense exploration of personal values, beliefs, and goals. Having his father die in such way under his eyes or reaching the place too late, could have been a very formative moment for him, one that might have radically changed his perception of himself, sadly not in a positive way.

If Enji’s father was a Hero, his dying while doing his duty like Kōta’s parents, might have further pushed on Enji the burden to become a Hero (inheriting his father’s mantle the way Īda Tensei first and Īda Tenya after did as Japanese society kind of expects the firstborn to inherit his father’s job), the need to be strong (otherwise he’ll die), the sense of inadequacy, as his father died as a Hero while Enji either watched or got there too late.

If Enji’s father wasn’t a Hero the fact he got involved, couldn’t save the girl (the text implied he caused her death) and stop the devastation of the area (or caused it directly) would reflect negatively on Enji.

Even though he’s absolutely not responsible for his father’s actions using Quirk if one isn’t a Hero is forbidden (we saw how they should have punished Shōto, Midoriya and Īda because they saved Native from the Hero killer, wounding him) and, what’s worse it didn’t end well (think at how Tobita and his family ended up bullied and ostracized for Tobita’s failed attempt to help someone who didn’t even die!) so Enji might have had to live with the pressure of all this and might have felt the need to become a Hero to wash away the shame of his father having tried and failed to be a Vigilante.

Regardless of Enji’s father having been a Hero or not, Enji doesn’t feel like a natural born Hero but still wants to be a Hero and tries to compensate with hard work.

As said in the cultural corner, society taught him to focus on effort, basically telling him if he were to put enough effort, he would succeed even though he lacks natural talent. Therefore Enji does his best to become the strongest while at the same time being plagued by feelings of not being good enough, which he tries to hide by acting cold and putting up on air.

Enji becomes a façade, he talks moves and act to give a certain impression of himself that Enji doesn’t feel match with the reality, he puts on airs, he holds himself together by keeping distance and presenting this fake image of him being confident, powerful, he feeds a lie, which is a very stressing thing to do.

All Might’s existence, or better the existence of someone who’s a natural born Hero and doesn’t even have to put effort in it, rubs salt on his wounds.

I want to dig into the presentation of the scene a bit as we discover what happened with Enji’s father in a discussion between adult Enji and teenager Enji, an Enji who wear U.A. high school uniform. Many other characters are shown also as their younger selves, but in that case is teenagers shown as children. In this case it’s a teen, as if Enji still have inside his teenager self, which is full of hate for him and can’t grow out of it.

The scene ends with adult Enji metaphorically murdering teenager Enji in a way that’s meant to represent how he won’t let himself be crushed by his own weakness… overcoming it through murderous rage. Teenager Enji encourage him to curse his own weakness, basically fuels his rage… which feels more like the representation of unhealthy coping mechanisms. Enji silences his own teenager self by murdering him and doesn’t overcome his weakness and leave it behind but just… fight it back with rage. But I’m probably running ahead this was meant to be about teenager Enji.

There’s also to wonder how his father’s death affected him practically.

Enji is the one who takes care of the Butsudan in which his father is enshrined. It makes him his firstborn. Was his mother still alive? Did she provide to Enji? Did Enji had to start a part time job to provide his living expenses? Did U.A. allow  it since many high school in Japan don’t allow it, and U.A. has its own internship program but previously it was the norm to start it on the second year? Or did his father have a life insurance (I’ve heard they’re pretty common in Japan) which allowed Enji (and his mother) to survive until Enji became a Pro? Or did someone else from the family helped him? We don’t know but it’s interesting to wonder.

All this could have contributed in how Enji as a father is lacking… but we’ll discuss about his fatherhood later.

Even in this Watsonian corner there’s not much to say about the bits referring to Enji at U.A. if not that they confirm even back then he put endless effort in training. He focused, he did all he could. Maybe he even deluded he could surpass All Might because he is the one who holds the record for collecting the most trash. Still, there’s something that’s worth wondering.

Neither All Might nor Enji are shown as having developed longstanding friendships in their school years which starkly contrast with how Class A was instead a close group even after 8 years.

There’s to wonder if back then they just weren’t educated in a way that encouraged friendship and teamwork.

That’s all for this part. Please stay tuned for the next!

[riddles-n-games]

Chasing Ghosts

Pairing: N/A Summary: Rewrite of Ch. 21 in The Hawthorne Legacy featuring Avery and Oren. Length: Short Story Type: Rewrite

A/N: Hi guys! Here's an old draft of mine from my rewrite era that I finally decided to finish although I can assure you that it's not the only one I have left. There's a bunch to come and please comment or message me if you want to be put on a tag list for my future fics.

My head of security laid it out for me. "Tobias Hawthorne the Second. You think he's alive."

“I know he is.”

Oren was silent for a long moment. “Have I told you how I came to be in Mr. Hawthorne’s employ?”

I had no idea where that question had come from. “No.”

“I was career military, ages eighteen to thirty-two. I would have stayed in until I hit twenty years, but there was an incident.” The way Oren said the word incident sent ice down my spine. “Everyone in my unit was killed except me. By the time Mr. Hawthorne found me a year later, I was in bad shape.”

I couldn’t picture Oren out of control. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Oren said, “I need you to understand that I owe Mr. Hawthorne my life. He gave me a purpose. He dragged me back into the light. And the last thing he asked of me was that I stay on to head your security team.” Oren let that sink in.  “Whatever I have to do to keep you safe,” he continued, his voice low, “I will do it.”

“Do you think there’s a threat?” I asked him. “A real one? Are you worried about whoever left that heart?”

“I’m worried,” Oren replied, “about what you and the boys are doing. About the ghosts you’re digging up."

I scoffed at that and shook my head. “Speak of the ironies, Oren. Haven’t you concluded yet that the so-called “ghosts” we’re digging up are because of your former boss? Why do you think me and the brothers have been going at this for three weeks? Because Tobias requested it. You know what Xander’s clue was after the first game? Find Tobias Hawthorne the Second. Why would he want his own grandson who would be put in a perilous position to find his uncle if he didn’t want him to dig up said ghosts?”

He gave me a long hard look but stayed quiet. I continued, “You say that he saved your life and for that you owe him. So tell me why the same man just asked another to risk theirs?” I was scared for Xander. If Oren was right about one thing, this mission was a dangerous one. We were digging up the past and when that was a billionaire’s past, only God knew what that would bring up from the depths. Blackmail, shady dealings, dark web connections, the list went on. I shivered at the thought.

Oren sighed. “Mr. Hawthorne had a… particular way of doing things. They weren’t always savory. That extends to the way he raised them. The boys, as good as they are, never really learned not getting their way, at least in the case of his games.” 

I considered that. The brothers weren’t all bad and for all the assumptions I may have had about rich boys, they were the best bunch to be around. However, the amount of family drama they had clearly influenced certain behaviors and attitudes. “This is why I’m concerned for your safety. These boys, they’re grieving and while I’m sure this final hurrah of his helps them cope with his death, it’s not wise to pick up a cold case. Somebody could get involved that he crossed, that’s why we have the List. And furthermore, his son being alive could mean your ironclad status as heir could be very easily dismantled. Why risk it?”

Yes, why risk it all? I rolled the question around in my mind, thinking up the insinuations, the consequences, the pros, the answers we’d get if we solved it, the questions if we didn’t. But there was something more. “I have to know,” I whispered.

“What was that?” 

“I need to know. Oren…” I looked up and met his gaze. “I’m sorry.” I shuffled around the desk and made my way to the door.

“Where are you going?” he called after me. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry, Oren. I’m so sorry but I got to do this. I can’t give this up.” 

“Avery, explain what you’re thinking. What are you doin-” The last part of his question cut off as I found the nearest passage and the entrance turned back into the wall. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Then I reached for my phone and texted Jameson.

[mayese]

I love history, but medieval times were hard for me to like hahaha However, I started to dig more and I started to be more open to medieval times.

I had already watched the movie about the discovery of Richard III that was out like, 2 years ago? So I decided to watch the White Queen. I absolutely devoured the show, but I was so saddened with the plot line of him and Anne. Literally devastating for me.

In reality, it is said that he stayed with Anne until her death. It is also said he did not have any intentions of marrying Elizabeth, because he was even already arranging a marriage between her and a Portuguese prince? Maybe she did love him, but it was one sided by what I searched.

What I want to say is that watching Anne and Richard’s marriage fall apart on the last two episodes was so heartbreaking. I still remember looking at them in the beginning, so happy to see them finally get together after everything. But then, Edward died and Richard had to make decisions under some pressure from the members of the court. Anyways, the mystery about the twins in the tower is not solved yet, and we have yet do discover if Richard was actually involved in real life or not.

But again, in the show, it is fiction, we actually know that he had nothing to do with the disappearance of them. But seeing Anne accuse him, capable of thinking such a thing about the man she adored before, I actually teared hahahaha Anyways, I’m still grieving the final of The White Queen.

Anne dying after the devastating loss of her son, thinking her husband was the one responsible for the death of their nephews and consequently of their own son. And Richard, grieving the loss of his beloved son and wife, not knowing what happened to his nephews, while everyone conspired against him before he died too. Buried without any care just for someone to find him under a parking lot almost 500 years later after his death.

This is so fucking interesting.