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fwkei · 3 years

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How can you be so warm in a place so cold?

Izana x reader (fluff-angst)

WC: 3.3k

CW/TW: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of abuse, mentions of drugs, mentions of blood.

AN: made this take place right before the battle between Toman and Tenjiku, No spoilers. Explanation at the end of the story just incase you dont understand

hey guys, thanks so much on the support/feedback on my last work. I appreciate it sm, and thank you for 5 followers 🥳 love yall fr. ANYWAYS, heres something i just made I hope you enjoy, and again i did not proof read this so I apologize for any mistakes, enjoy!

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“....Do you remember it?”

He felt his body go cold….cold like that one night..That one night when he met you.

The air felt sharp against the skin on your face. But this feeling comforted you in a way. Although it wasn't much, you looked forward to this part of your day, where you could just think and not worry for a couple of hours.

You fisted your hands inside your pockets to create some sort of friction and warmth. You nuzzled your chin and mouth under your thick zipped up jacket that was a little too big on you when the park you always come to came into view.

You looked down at your feet when suddenly you heard the squeak of a moving chain, you looked up. To see a boy sitting on one of the swings, slightly swaying back and forth.

Your eyes softened at the sadden look on his face, and so you sat on the swing right next to him, taking your hands out of your pocket to hold onto the cold chains. He looked down at his dangled feet, and you only looked out into the scenery, debating on what you should say to the young boy.

He was small but still a little bigger than you. His skin was tan and had light pale hair. He seemed upset, maybe even angry. You hadn't even noticed that your gaze completely turned to him. You saw his hands that were resting on his thighs, moving up to grip the chains of the swing as he looked over at you with his cat-like irises. His eyes, they captivated you. They were a color you had never seen before. A lavender. A really soft and beautiful lavender.

You two held eye contact for a good two minutes. When one of you suddenly decided to speak.

“What are you doing out here this late?” he asked in a slightly irritated tone still keeping eye contact with you

“I’m waiting for my mom to finish with work..” you said looking back out

“Then why don’t you just go home. You shouldn't be out here.” he said swaying a bit

“But..I’m always out here, and I don't consider that place a home.” you said swaying with him on your swing

You saw anger and frustration fill the boy's eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, and grip tightened on the chains as he looked at you with hate.

“Do you realize how spoiled you sound? You have a mom and a house. That you can go home to whenever you want. And you’re wanted! There's no reason for you to be out here and act like you’re miserable! Just go away!” he yelled at you

He expected you to cry, frown, get angry, give at least some sort of reaction, and it angered him that his words didn't bother you. Your eyes still softly looked into his. Eyes with a hint of pity. It angered him even more. Just as he was about to speak and yell again. He gritted his teeth and stopped himself when he saw you look down.

“That's not it..at all.” you said watching your feet dangle over the thin layer of snow

“Then what is it?” he asked jumping out of his swing and standing in front of yours

“Why do you want to know?” you asked looking up slightly at him making his breath hitch in confusion

“Because..” he said getting quiet and realizing his outburst was rude

“What is your name?” you asked, stepping out of your seat to stand in front of him face to face, him only a few centimeters taller than you.

“I..Izana..” he said finally getting a good and close look into your eyes

He felt his eyes soften. He felt pity. He felt bad. He now knew he was wrong about you, everything he assumed was completely wrong. Izana could see the hurt in your eyes, he could tell you were going through a lot, and you could tell the same with him. He backed away slightly once he saw you smile.

He felt his heartbeat stop for a moment seeing it. How could you smile right now? Why would you smile right now? After his hurtful words...After what you were going through at home..why?

“My name is Y/n. I’m 10.” you said holding out your hand to the boy with a shocked face

“10 too..” he said slowly, bringing his hand to grasp yours..

He felt his body warm up and mouth part. Your hand was warm, so warm and soft despite the cold air and chains that touched you. It confused him.

How can you be so warm in a place so cold, Y/n?

Izana thought to himself.

“Your hands are cold...here take my gloves...I don’t use them anyway. Do you come to this park a lot? I’ve never seen you here before..” you asked, reaching further into your pockets and taking out a pair of dark red knitted gloves and handing it to the boy in front of you. Looking into his eyes, waiting for a response.

“Thank..you...and you consider this a park? It’s just 2 swings under a streetlight..” he said softly taking the gloves from your hands gently

“Do you not? I thought it was..nice even though it’s not much, I come here every night.” you said

“You don’t get bored of it?” he asked

“It’s the best it’s ever gonna get for me.” you said tucking your hands into your sleeves

Izana’s mouth parted at your words. He knows you were going through something but what? Why was someone like you settling for something so...bad? Izana knew nothing about you except for the fact that you were overly nice. Overly nice to the point where it made him calm down.

“I can uh.. I can..take you to a better park! I know a place! Do you wanna come with me?” he asked bringing his arms to grasp you wrists tight making you surprised

Your eyes traced his face as a small smile grew on your face. Izana felt his face warm up at seeing you smile. It made him feel...good. Really good. It made him feel wanted. And he wanted to see you do it more often. He didn't even realize that because of your smile, a smile grew on his face as well. After a couple of seconds of looking into each others eyes, again...your eyes closed giving him a closed eyed smile as you said with a soft laugh-

“I do.”

Izana let out a scoff of excitement as his eyes traveled down to your hands. Letting go of your wrists and lowering one of his hands to hold your hand tight. He looked back into your eyes with a different look. A look where you finally saw light in his eyes, and it made them that much more beautiful.

“Okay. Don’t let go, just run with me.” he said as he started to walk and look back at you waiting for your reassurance

“Okay.” you smiled bringing your other hand to hold your hat as you two started to run against the cold wind

The cold wind hit your eyes, making you squint. Occasionally Izana would look back at you while running to make sure you were okay, and it really was one of the best sights of your life. Seeing his slightly flushed face from the cold wind looking back at you with a soft and small grin and messy bangs spread across his face. It made your eyes widen and your face relax. He is so pretty when he smiles. You wanted to see him smile more often, it made you feel loved.

The running turned to jogging, the jogging turned to fast walking, and that turned to slow steps. You two stood in front of the park, with your hands still intertwined. You pushed up your hat that was blocking your view slightly and looked up to a park. A park with 2 slides, 4 swings, monkey bars, rods, and all sorts of things. With bright and warm lights shining over it… There was grass instead of cement, colorful benches instead of dirt covered stools, and families with children instead of people with drugs. You felt the excitement grow all across your body. Your mouth opened as you let out a gasp of happiness. Your face flushed because of the overwhelming feeling. And Izana watched all of it. Didn’t blink once when looking at your happy face.

“Cmon! Let’s go and play!” you said gripping his hand tighter before letting go and running to the park

“Yeah!’ he said running after you with a big smile plastered across his face

Hour’s went by, but it only felt like a couple of minutes. You two let your minds run wild, pretending you lead a crew of pirates who had to fight against fish people, to running a spaceship that was battling against aliens, to pretending that the floor was some type of acid that could kill you making you two crawl around the apparatus like spiders till both of your minds and bodies grew tired.

You two had played so much to the point where the cold snowy air didn't even feel cold, but like an AC on a hot summer day. You sat on your legs under the apparatus, while Izana sat the same way, but was playing with the grass on the ground. You watched his fingers fiddle with the green strings. You wanted to ask something, but couldn't seem to put your thoughts into words.

“Izana-” you said looking at him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours

“Yes?” he said looking at you

“....Can we be friends?” you asked rubbing your hands waiting for his answer

His eyes widened..you wanted him. Not only did you want him, but you wanted to be friends with him, be beside him, be with him. It made his heart feel weird, almost fuzzy.

“Yeah! Let’s be friends.” he said smiling making you smile too

“What about you? Do you have a home?” you asked

“No..I uh..I don’t. I don't have a family.” he signed deciding to keep back his sob story

“Don’t worry, I get it. You can talk to me about it whenever we’re together again.” you said

“When will we be together again?” he asked tilting his head

“I don't know..but...I’ll always be at those swings, everyday. And when we get older..we can do other stuff in other places..like go to the beach..and bowling..you know?” you said smiling while counting things on your fingers

“Yeah okay..sounds fun..Y/n..I can’t wait till we get older!” he said smiling making you laugh a little bit

“Same!” you said

Both of your heads quickly turned when hearing an angry man scream, a scream you knew far too well.

“Damn it! You stupid little girl! Is this where you’ve been?! Huh?!” you both heard the male scream

“Who is that? Who is he talking to?” asked Izana keeping his eyes on the man as he walked closer and closer

“No..oh no..I’m late..” you said in a shaky voice

“What?” asked Izana

“Duck and hide. Izana please..” you whispered quickly gathering all of you stuff and crawling out from under the apparatus

Izana had never in his life seen such a terrified face. Your eyes were wide, and your hands were shaking...but not from the cold, but from pure fear. Usually Izana would protest at orders thrown so suddenly at him by people...but the way your voice and whole energy changed within a split second made Izana shut up and listen to you. He ducked under the piece of plastic, Hiding himself while still letting his eye poke out to see you.

“I’m sorry…” you said walking over to the man quickly looking down

“Look at me when you speak to me.” he said when suddenly you felt a harsh and sharp slap against your cheek causing your head to turn to the side. You brought your hand to your cheek, while turning back to look at the man. Izana’s mouth parted in shock and disgust. Just as he was about to run out, you spoke again.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” you said

“Damn right it won’t happen again! You think I like it when your whore mother calls me late at night telling me how ‘our’ kid isn’t home yet?! A kid I never wanted but I have to worry about?! Jesus fucking Christ. Bad shit always has to happen to good guys huh? I just wanted a fuck but this is what I get. he said as you grind your teeth in anger

“I’m sorry.” you said again bowing

Izana’s heart was beating so hard..he could feel it right against his ear. The amount of guilt and pity he was feeling was unbearable, he wanted so desperately to just get up and just defend you, in any way he could, and so he tried to change his position to get ready to run out and help you. But as he did so, his foot hit the halo metal causing a quiet bang, but since the street was quiet it could be heard. Loud enough for the angry drunk man with a bottle of alcohol in his hand to hear. Izana stopped dead in his tracks, and your eyes widened in fear.

“Are you..Are you with someone?” he asked in an angry and deep voice as he started to walk towards the sound

“No! It’s just the rabbit I found! I was feeding it under the slide because that’s where the most full grass is! It probably just ran away.” you said spilling out lies on the spot with scared eyes desperately hoping he would believe you.

“Yeah yeah, I don't care about your little rabbit. Now c'mon start walking, I wanna buy a beer before taking you back.” he said, slightly pushing you, making you lose your balance slightly as your father walked in front of you.

You took a deep breath of relief, as you started to walk you looked back seeing Izana had crawled out slightly, just enough for you to see him, and for him to see you. You saw he had eyes filled with worry and fear, you didn't want him to worry, truly. Because the night you had just spent with him...made your day...actually the rest of your life. And so you gave a soft smile and waved before placing your hands back into your pockets and turning your head forward.

Izana could only watch you walk away in confusion, in anger, in sadness, in every emotion there was. He could understand that you two were different sides of the same coin. And it honestly hurt him. Hurt him so greatly to the point where he swore to himself that he would do anything he can to not just see you smile, but to keep you safe.

And there was no way on earth he could fail at that, no way he would let you sacrifice your body for his well being like you had just done, no way he would let himself...right?

“When we first met...Do you remember it?” you asked looking into his eyes that were now filled with tears

He felt his body go cold….cold like that one night..That one night when he met you.

He couldn't respond, and only nodded his head, as his thumb wiped the blood that spilled from the side of your lips

“Wasn’t it fun?” you asked smiling

“It was.” he responded feeling his heart ache at your smile

“It was the best day of my life.” you said feeling a lump in your throat

“We can talk about that day later, let’s go to the hospital right now, okay?” he said holding his hand over your bloody wounds

“I think this is it, Izana.” you said laughing a bit as he shook his head ‘no’ at your words

“Don’t talk like that, please don’t talk like that.” he said, holding back his sobs, making his words come out shaky.

“Do you remember what I asked you? About wanting to be friends?” you asked bringing your hand up to lift his chin

He didn’t respond with words, but the frown on his face, grew, letting you know he did. Of course he did. Izana would never forget a moment between you two.

“What I really wanted to...say back then was...that I liked you, but we were only so small, and as...I grew up with you, I realized it was more. Sound’s kinda cliche right? Was it the same with you?” you said in between pauses of pain.

“Y/n stop making this sound like a goodbye, I won’t let it be a goodbye, okay?!” he yelled out of frustration, but again, you showed no reaction, like before when he first lashed out on you. It made his eyes soften when realizing the poison you two were in, was just like years before. Just like when you first met.

At the park, with 2 swings, and 1 street light shining over it.

Suddenly, all the thoughts in his head were stopped when he felt your embrace. Your arms wrapped under his arms and around his upper stomach, and you cheek against his collarbone and neck. He was hesitant, his arms still hovering over yours, not hugging you back yet. But you didn't mind.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” said slightly nuzzling yourself into him, breathing in his scent which you loved so much.

“I-”

Izana felt his heart beat so slowly.. at the familiar words you were speaking. But they were different from before, this time, you didn’t talk about being in his future...like you did before. His arms were still refusing to hug you back. His mouth still refusing to accept and return your love.

“How do you think things would’ve been?

“Y/n..”

“Do you think we would've ended up together, and had a family? Like a type of family we never had?”

“Y/n please..”

The feeling in your throat became stronger. You frowned and bit your inner cheek to keep in your sobs

“How can you be so warm in a place so cold, Izana?”

You heard Izana’s breath hitch at your words. His head slowly and hesitantly rested on yours, as you felt hot tears coat your scalp. And his arm’s fell to his sides, still refusing the fact that this is a goodbye.

But why was he refusing? He could’ve easily grabbed you and ran to the hospital. But instead he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because he knew deep down that it was already too late. Your body was cold. So cold, it was unsettling. Because your body was never cold. You were always warm, you were home for Izana. Izana knew if he tried to make it to the hospital, it would make his final moments with you a waste.

So what was he doing? He doesn’t know himself...All he knew was that he wanted to be with you till the end, but a part of him couldn't accept that this was in fact...the end for you two.

“Please don’t leave.” he said in a shaky tone against your head

“I’m sorry.” you said feeling the hot tears that were congested in your eyes, finally fall out

“Don’t say that…” he said

“Izana?” you said fighting against your sobs

“Yes?” he said

“I love you. And I always have.” you said smiling as you felt your final breaths.

Izana felt your grip on him loosen, and just as it did, he brought his arms and wrapped them over your cold body.

You felt it, you felt his embrace, and you heard him scream that he loves you back, You heard and felt it all. But you couldn't let him know that you did. You couldn't even keep your smile as you took your final breaths. But you did feel the hot tears run across your cheek. And down to your neck, as he cried and screamed in regret.

HIs body, still so warm..so warm against something so cold.

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Explanation SPOILER HERE FOR TENJIKU ARC: BASICALLY, Y/n died before the battle against Toman, it’s not in the ff(as to who killed y/n) because i wanted the reader to have some control, but in this ff I made it so that Y/ns death was another reason for Izana to wanna take down Toman and Mikey, so as i was making this i had the imagine that Kisaki would be to kill or have someone else kill Y/n to make Izana even more unstable and easier to manipulate, hence the whole fight thing so yeah lmao. Izana and Y/n thought of each other as home, and fell in love with the feeling of being with each other i guess? BUT in the end, Izana thinks he’s too late, and thinks that Y/n didnt hear/feel him, which just makes him even more frustrated and angry, so he feels guilty and ends up taking that out on others and taking loved ones from others too (hence being a motive for ordering for emma ot be killed) sorry if this is confusing

#tokyo revengers #mikey tokyo revengers #izana #izana kurokawa #izana x y/n #kakucho #tokyo revengers angst #angst #fluff #idk lol

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theredsuzuran · 3 years

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Douma x reader - Innocence

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Took me a long time to upload a new content am so sorry for the delay I was really busy with school assignments therefore I cannot manage the time to write. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors on my behalf, I hope you enjoy.

Warning : Dark themes like gore, blood and violence, degradation and swearing, mature content.

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The moon shone brightly above the sky as it's light leak through the branches illuminating the famous building of the eternal paradise cult. A new set of followers rushed into the dwelling in hopes of fulfilling their selfish desires, diminishing their agonies and enriching their possessions. However a particular human with her tattered kimono seem not to be interested to convey anything although the people around her would die to witness even a glimpse of the charismatic leader as for now she was busy running along the wide long corridors

The sound of thumping footsteps echoed throughout the building as a herd of followers attempted on catching the miscreant who disrupted the peaceful atmosphere prevailing over the supreme cult. The already annoyed and frustrated people were all worked up to catch the energetic human who on the other hand have thoughts of escaping this place they called paradise. If only she was careful enough to notice her mother's strange behavior soon as they entered the place but how can you possibly blame an innocent little girl like her, or so she thought. Afraid she might lose sight of her treacherous mother who abandoned her just moments ago she desparety stumbled her way out although that didn't concerned her simple thinking process but that's exactly how complicated the situation was.

Turning one last time to look behind if those weird people were still following her or not when suddenly she bumped into a Tall muscular figure standing infront of her soft delicate frame she must have missed him approaching while focusing on looking behind. "Please just leave me alone!" The girl fumed coherently still overwhelmed by the amount of people rushing towards her like waves something that she was not accustomed with as for eighteen years she lived indoors interacting rarely with anyone and playing with dolls most of the time.

"Watch your tongue brat" one of the men standing beside the tall man spoke with disgust hinted in his voice. "Crouch down you insolent woman, where's your gratitude it's because of lord Douma's benevolence that you are still here or you'd be rotting in the street thanks to your mother", the people around her started whispering and murmuring behind her back but she was not bother since her senses were filled with newfound wrath how dare they insult your angel like mother? No longer able to contain your anger you shouted with tears "Then take me to my mother, I don't want to stay here alone".

"Your mother abandoned you here so shut up and deal with it, now move your way for master" the man grunted irritatedly motioning the other followers to grab her and take her away.

"No don't touch me" she wiggled under their grip rushing towards douma blocking him from entering the room by grabbing his arm tightly "I am not going anywhere until I know where my mother is" she cried loudly making the demon flinch with surprise, how pitiful the creature looked in his polychromatic eyes. He have seen many humans crying before him for obvious reasons which honestly have become his monotonous routine but somehow this girl acted quite weird being her age, interesting him enough to investigate. As he was about to speak the man beside him pushed the girl hashly making her lose her balance and fall on the wooden floor.

"How dare you touch master with your filthy hands bitch" he lift his hand to slap her tight in the face but someone grabbed his wrist just in time to save the girl from further humiliation.

"Silence" all the questioning glances, judging looks and whispering stopped at once as douma spoke nonchalantly making the latter shiver in regret.

"I am sorry douma sama" the man uttered in pure horror having no intentions to displease his beloved lord. "I was-"

"I don't want to see that happen again, understood?" He replied coldly still maintaining his wide smile as the previous chaos shifted into complete hush. The man lowered his head down with shame nodding silently. Douma averted his attention and glanced at the figure underneath making the girl jolt a bit but his once frightening demeanor changed into a cheerful and optimistic one in matter of second upon seeing her.

"Please take her to my chamber and treat her wounds" the man clapped with a wide grin plastered on his face. A group of female servants came rushing to help picking her up. The girl being too bewildered did not protested and simply follow his tone as if she was hypnotized by his neatly decorated persona.

The girl was immediately taken away without delay and as per douma he needed to attend his cult duties. First of all she was washed and changed into a beautiful kimono as soon as she stepped inside, then she was escorted into a room filled with antiques and lavish items which she have never seen. Her face lit up with fascination as she began venturing those decorative pieces.

"Looks like you have ease down a bit, good good" A familiar tone struck in her ears startling her a bit only to turn back and view the handsome cult leader although it was a bit strange because she did not heard anyone approaching.

"Aww did I scared you?" He laughed covering his face with golden fans.

"No I was just- you came in without a warning, I was taken aback" she explained blushing trying her best not to act immature to which douma laughed uncontrollably as he found this human's expression adorable say entertaining in his words.

"D-dont laugh at me" she pouted crossing her arms in the attempt.

"I am sorry (y/n), you really amuse me" he replied still grinning. However there was a moment of awkward silence between them as he uttered her name abruptly.

"I didn't tell you my name.." after a long pause she replied to him with a confuse look in her face.

"I know everyone's name who are living under my supervision including yours besides what kind of cult leader I am if I don't have basic information about my fellow followers. Oh look I have been talking to you without giving the chance to let you talk my bad" he laughed again waving his fans creating another awkward situation. Causing you to sweatdrop on his remark.

"Say (y/n) how old are you?" to which she replied enthusiastically "I am 8 years old and will turn 9 soon"

"Ah you don't look like one" douma grinned closing his eyes in the process.

"Yeah I get that a lot" she remarked shyly.

"Your mother is one of my followers" he continued

"Really?" her eyes sparked with hope as she approached douma with anticipation grabbing his arms for the second time starling him, she really like holding hands eh? he have experiences like that but somehow this girl made him feel different so he allowed her but then she stopped halfway through her words "I really miss her it's been a week since she left me here" her voice dropped with sadness.

Douma felt no sympathy for humans or anything as such, he have learned to fake his emotions from a very tender age eversince he was born to the extent that even seeing his mother killing her husband mercilessly failed to evoke feelings within. He clearly did not understand what she was feeling he just stared at her with a blank expression only to replace it quickly with a grim look even faking few tears. "(Y/n) chan you know its okay you will still have me" he patted the girl in an attempt to comfort her.

"Friends?" (Y/n) replied between her tears.

"If that's how you want us to be" douma smiled at her gently shocking himself for a second because he didn't think of smiling?

Things escalated soon after that incident, (y/n) was a kind and compassionate person from inside and out and in not time the cult followers started loving her presence. As often douma would let her accompany him and most of the time she stayed by his side following him everywhere and he didn't mind that at all moreover he appreciated her company. (Y/n) was like a fresh bud to him who depicted innocence and purity he loved spoiling her with expensive gifts yet she never showed signs of greediness and genuinely appreciated his thoughtfulness slowly forgetting the past life she was in and cherishing her friendship with douma. At first she was reluctant and didn't like getting so much attention but in the course of time she bonded better with everyone and was quite content with the life she was leading. As for douma he began to depend on (y/n) to the point that not seeing her face for even one day would make him go insane and he didn't understand why not like he want to because all he cared about was how she made him feel so many varieties of pleasant emotions he wish he could feel. Eating her was out of context.

However all good things must come to an end for he is someone to not rest in peace after the sin he have committed for centuries. Seeing douma paying her more attention, spoiling her with a ravish lifestyle and even letting her stay by his side all the time made some of his cult members terribly envious they wanted to punish her for taking their chances of stealing the spotlight. There was this one room that he forbade his followers to enter for obvious reasons and specifically for (y/n) because he didn't want to repeat the same mistake. This was exactly what they wanted (y/n) to do break the rules and Douma's trust. Like that there would be no more favouritism on her with others.

"Ah (y/n), there you are" one of the female member approached her one fine morning.

"Yes how may I help you?" She asked cheerfully

"Lord douma have asked for your presence in the forbidden room tonight and he said its urgent"

"Aren't we all prohibited to go inside"

"Oh (y/n) it's true master have arrived today and he wants your presence"

Upon hearing that news her heart elated with happiness, it has been two weeks since he last saw douma around and she missed him but something felt off about the whole situation douma always sees (y/n) first before tending his followers then why did he not come meet her did he not miss her like she did?

She was lost in her thoughts until she found two hands waving and snapping infort of her face.

"Don't be late, okay?" With that said the female hurried back into other room leaving (y/n) behind even though the situation seem kinda odd maybe douma was busy afterall.

At night (y/n) went into the restricted area. She stood infront of the shoji door in absolute dilemma debating whether or not to enter the room or go back. There was her desire of meeting douma on one hand and not breaking his trust by entering the room on the other. In the end she decided not to but as she was turning back she heard someone grunting in pain behind the closed doors being a compassionate person, she decided to open the door and enter into the darkness adjusting her eyes in the process, a pungent smell hit her nostrils making her cover her mouth and to her absolute terror the scene infront of her made her puke in disgust.

A pile of Mutilated bodies, mostly women laid around lifelessly on the blood stained tatami mattress. Many having no limbs, some headless and organs missing from their body as if someone had ate all of that. The whole room was a mess full of unfortunate people. She felt sick and began crawling down her way back from the corpses. However she felt a tight grip on her left foot upon looking down she witness the sight of a woman her intestines oozing out of her stomach begging for help. (Y/n) stood there perplexed unable to say anything chocking through tears.

"I told you not to come here, why?" (Y/n) turned her head violently to see douma standing in a distance his countenance cold and sinister evident that he was highly displeased upon seeing his innocent flower disobeying his instructions.

"It's not... like... what you see" (y/n) cried fearfully but douma didn't seem to buy it well in a blink of an eye she found herself in Douma's arms as he aggressively dragged her out of the room.

"What's going on douma" no word came out from the usual lively douma.

"It's hurting me your grip" no reply again to which she forcefully tried to stand still with all her strength. This time douma stopped his features hidden under his bangs making her unable to figure the expression he was carrying.

"Is this why douma forbade us to enter the room" no reply

"Are you responsible for murdering those innocent people?" No reply

"DOUMA" she shouted

"Why you want to join them?" Douma finally looked at her his eyes glowing dangerously proving his existence to be something unnatural. (Y/n's) eyes widen at his remarks as tears rolled down her visage.

"I hate you.." she murmured

"What?" He tilted his head letting his guard down a bit at her hurtful comments.

"I HATE YOU" she pushed douma roughly and flew from the place running deep into the forest for she knew who he was and what he is capable of doing. Tearing down she constantly reminisce the moments she shared but she cannot allow herself to sympathize his heinous crimes. Why is it that the people I love are always taken away from me? She thought. Exhausted from running she halted in order to catch her breath while glancing back to see if he was following, there was no one indeed so a sudden feeling of relief gushed in her body. However turning her head back she saw him standing inches apart from her face which made her shiver and fall onto the knees.

"Why are you running away from me (y/n)" he said apatheticly his head lowered at her level. She did not reply and stayed quite.

"Is it true that you don't love me after all the things I did for you?" Covering his face with one hand his eyes glowing under the moonlight a look of dejection written on his face. There was complete silence in the forest except the sound of rustling trees.

"Answer me" holding her face now firmly he growled making her flinch under his breath. In one last desperate attempt (y/n) tried to stab douma with a tree branch she found laying on the ground but unfortunately douma was faster and easily dodged the attack and in a swift motion he hit her with immense strength causing her fragile little body to tremble in pain as she coughed mucus mixed with blood.

"How foolish of you" he crouched down her height staring intensely at the quivering figure of the miserable girl. As for (y/n) her body ached but more was the tightness in the chest that she was experiencing in the moment.

He pulled her by the hair roughly making her scream in pain although at this point all she could manage with her cracking voice were inaudible screams.

"Why did you disobey me? (Y/n)..." who knew beneath that friendly kind face was hiding a undeniably deadly and calculative demon and at this point it was clear for her that he was anything but human.

"Who are you?" these few words manage to escape from her shaky lips in between low grunts.

"I am the leader of the eternal paradise cult"

"Wrong" to which he tightened his grip making her shriek again.

"You humans are so dumb believing in the existence of primordial deities where in reality its just a myth, a fairytale, created for pleasuring the sufferings of mere human. Being superior than you mortals I wanted to make these pitiful existence happy and that's why I was born and what you saw there" his lips curved into a cheeky smile revealing his deadly fangs creeping the shit out of the already scared girl. "I eat them so that they can always be with me and attain salvation" a sinister laughter escape from his mouth as he covered it with his golden fans. (Y/n) unable to process the new sets of information knots formed in her stomach making her sick in the guts.

"I ate your mother too, oh she was ungrateful after all the things I did to her just like you" protruding her eyes with pure shock she felt her veins popping out and blood boiling in pure rage.

"You are a monster, you think your stupid morals would persuade people to think like you do, I despise you douma I thought we were friends and you took away the one I cherished the most?"

"You think your mother loved you?" Douma snapped. The duality of this was man was insane, all the things he does or says are plastic.

"She never cared for your life, you want to know why? I will tell you since you insist" douma dragged her out of forest holding a fistful of her hair tightly inflicting great discomfort to the girl while he continued with his harsh statements and deliberate insults.

"You were just a burden, behaving like a fucking child with the alluring body of yours"

"No my mother promised me..she would protect me.. you are lying"

"While you were crying everyday inside my shrine that lowly woman enjoyed her life indulging in adultery with various cult members leaving her sick husband and mentally retarded daughter in the dark" every word he uttered spread vemon into her ears.

"Still she wanted more and more and more, what a greedy whore" douma continued.

"Do you know how much difficult it was for me to control myself around you? While you sway your hips and act innocently making those hungry men lust over you, how much dumb can you be?"

"What do you mean I don't understand.. douma"

"I did everything I can for you yet you remain ungrateful, disrespectful? Well guess its runs in your blood and I thought you are innocent but it turns out that you are just like the rest of them, naive"

Her eyes widened with every hurtful remarks he made about her and she did not understand why she felt that way shouldn't she be resentful towards him for killing her beloved mother but here she is weeping constantly because douma was treating her like he never did before.

"But that's fine (y/n) I can not bring myself to hurt you I love you and we shall always be together whether you like it or not" nothing reached in her ears anymore as her body grew numb. Her eyes shut as she carried the unbearable pain in her heart slowly loosing consciousness and remaining sanity.

It would have been easier if she died but alas a mere human like her is doomed at his mercy.

#douma #douma kny #douma x reader #kny x reader #kny douma #demon slayer #fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #upper moons #upper moon 2

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

“𝑰’𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻, 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑹.”

part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by the lovely miss solange @du0tine

pairing. entity! xdj & f! reader | word count. 5.4k

synopsis. he wasn’t a god, he wasn’t a devil, and fuck, he’s surely not an angel, but he will be your saviour and your light ‘till kingdome come.

warnings. tread with caution. yandere/possesive themes, religious themes, violence, mentions of gore, swearing, mentions of ptsd, mentions of physical abuse, a lot of character deaths, manipulation, stalking, and implications of suicide

disclaimer. i do not condone whatever tf i wrote in this nor does it reflect my beliefs or values or morals and such. it is all pure fiction and i also dont think xiaojun from wayv would act like this in real life.

a soul’s vulnerability gives him strength. he has scourged far and wide and has yet to encounter a soul as interesting as yours. he never thought a heart filled with hatred and a fragile mentality can be such a sweet combination. xiaojun would be stupid not to latch his greedy talons onto you.

he hides in the darkest corners of your room at night, unseen and unheard, just watching over you like a predator to his poor unsuspecting gazelle before diving into the anticipated chase.

he moves in with you into the cheap apartment you got for yourself here in the big city—which he thinks is an awful move because of how lonely it’ll be. but hey, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that you got chased out of your own home by your stepdad, your very own biological mom too scared to say a peep of defense to your name.

your downfalls became xiaojun’s highlights.

he would’ve felt sorry for you after finding out about that abusive old man. ugh, he scowls. your stepdad makes the entity’s blood boil and he doesn’t even have blood to begin with. the same man who holds the bible in his left hand when he preaches sermons for the people, is the same hand he uses to hit you across the face.

the same hand he uses to pull at your hair. the same hand he uses to punch your gut. the same hand he uses to shove your mom down when she tries interfering.

xiaojun may hate men of god but above all, he absolutely detests the kind your old man is—a faker, who thinks he can get away with the shit mess he’s making. xiaojun would never take that preacher’s murky soul even if he offered it to the entity voluntarily. fake. fake. fake. fake. fake. xiaojun should’ve killed him. xiaojun should’ve slit his throat. xiaojun should’ve torn his eyes out—

ah, ah, ah.

he can’t afford to make you any less vulnerable than you already are, now, can he? after all, he can be anything you want but he’s no angel.

so he watched from the sidelines.

watched you cry. watched you bleed. watched your scars form. watched the hate and resentment you have for your own family fester in your heart until it grew to a size you can’t hide within yourself anymore.

and then you left home.

xiaojun has to admit, for a second, maybe leaving home will make your soul unworthy, will break the mold he’s already had of you and will completely spoil his well-thought out plans.

so really, he can only scoff when he watches you walk around the apartment wearing that pretty dress on a sunday morning, darting around with calculated steps to shove everything inside your bag to go to church. the dress hangs nicely against your skin but he’d rather you stay and wear nothing.

maybe you’d finally find contentment and happiness in this place, in this city, on your own. soaring high without a cage, without someone to hold you back—these things fill his thoughts like a plague until you come barging back into the door 30 minutes later.

he’s been watching you long enough to know church service wouldn’t end for another 30 minutes or so. xiaojun’s eyebrows quirk up. why would his fragile little gazelle come back oh so early? but his question is immediately answered when he detects your shaky breaths and the unshed tears in your glistening eyes

you’re suffering the post-traumatic effects your shit stepdad has caused. seeing another preacher must’ve been a trigger, he thinks, eyeing you with a look on his face. xiaojun felt a little stupid. of course, swimming to the surface will be tough with all that trauma anchoring you down.

it’ll be tough, indeed… so why not sink you even deeper?

it didn’t take much energy for him to start manipulating your dreams. every nap, every deep sleep, he’d replay all the horrible things your stepdad has done to you and he realizes how dreams depicted from his perspective took a larger toll on you versus the ones from your own point of view—witnessing for yourself how weak and helpless you had been seemed to chip away bigger parts of you, he notices. your terrified screams when waking up in cold sweat getting louder and louder with every passing nightmare.

he pushed, and pushed, and pushed until you were standing right at the edge of sanity. until you start questioning your own self-worth and judgment, the invisible chains of the trauma too strong to break. until your radiant skin looked deathly, with gaunt cheeks and white lips. until you developed a fear of sleeping because no, you don’t want to witness those horrors again. no. no. no. no, please don’t hit me—

xiaojun can’t help but admire his handiwork but no, he doesn’t have time for that!

the next time you fell asleep you had been desperately holding onto your 5th bottle of gatorade like it was a torch breaking through the darkness. you’ve intake so much of the energy drink that your body has grown used to it. you would’ve switched to caffeine, but from how much you drank it prior to the energy drinks, your blood is practically coffee at this point.

“you’re living in my house now, young lady! i’d like to see some respect from your or i’ll fucking beat it into you!”

“stop! please. hit me instead, hit me!”

“this is all your fault, bitch! how can you raise one daughter wrong? no wonder your husband left you!”

murky and black, you can’t even see the bottom at this point. it keeps pulling you down, and down, and down, until you couldn’t breathe. until your head feels light. until your heart beats erratically within your ribcage as you fought to the surface.

with all the negative emotions surging through you in thunderous waves, it’s a wonder how no other lonesome, starving entity has latched onto you like xiaojun. although realistically, he was here first, as if he’ll let any other being like him go near you.

it took a greater amount of energy to twist and manipulate the plotline of certain events in a dream. if xiaojun hadn’t grown strong from all your negativity, he’d never be able to do it.

he can never forget the day he first appeared to you in a dream. to have you cling onto him as you willingly took his hand—not that he was caught by surprise, anyway. every second of every hour of every day xiaojun spent plotting your demise has led to this fruitful day of “meeting” you for the first time.

“i’m right here,” he said, shaking fingers tracing over your cheeks. a soft caress you have never experienced.

the man in your dreams is someone you’ve never met before—you’re positive that you haven’t because you’d never forget a face as handsome as his. he appears like an angel casted over divine light, with a soft smile that can cure the plague as he offers his hands for you to take. it was beautiful, how your nightmares turned into dreams the moment the mysterious man arrived.

how’d you ever know, that the hand you grabbed is the wolf in sheep’s clothing?

it’s sad really, how you’ve only managed to escape one horror only to jump into the next but xiaojun can’t find it in himself to feel bad. well, maybe a little, it’s a fleeting thought. something that disappeared as quickly as it had passed by.

it was only after a few weeks of constantly appearing in your dreams did his plan start to backfire. the change in your behavior isn’t subtle, either, and it angered him all the more. he didn’t see this coming, not even from lightyears away.

simple to say you’ve grown a little more… how can xiaojun put this into words? well, a little more outgoing. adventurous. meeting new people and going to new places and experiencing new things. he can see everything as clear as day—you were healing from your past, leaving the dark chapters in your life to write newer and brighter ones that revolved on having actual healthy relationships for once.

his seething anger of his failed plans had made all the windows in your apartment burst into thousand little pieces. if you had fine china dishes displayed on your kitchen cabinets he would’ve broken those too. how can you go against him like this? look at you all happy and smiley even as the room turned ice cold because of xiaojun’s suffocating presence. you never even thought once about it—how naive.

tormenting you through dreams isn’t working anymore. xiaojun has to up his game if he wants to break you down and revert you back to that paranoid, sensitive, and frail self that couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t talk to any other human being without feeling the ghost of your abusive step-father’s hands against your skin.

who says he can only control you through mind games alone? after he’s done what needs to be done, grief and self-pity will go hand in hand. a combination so cruel and heavy on your shoulders that xiaojun can already savor the metallic tangy taste of victory.

“no! yeji—!”

xiaojun watches unblinking when he makes one of your new friends walk out the sidewalk and right into an overspeeding car.

tires skidding across the pavement, the breaks not working, glass shattering, bones cracking against the force of the hit—dead, right on the fucking spot.

he’s never heard you scream that loud and he shudders in pleasure as the vibrations of your shrill voice courses through his veins.

he missed this, your complete and utter misery.

but he wasn’t done yet.

“don’t you think it’s a ‘lil chilly in here?” ryujin asks, looking over to your side before drinking the hot chocolate she prepared for both of you.

grieving together with a friend can be good, hence why you’re now in her apartment a month later after yeji’s funeral.

you answer after taking a sip. “no, not really.”

xiaojun grins, giddy and a skip in his step while making his way towards you as he side-eyes your friend, who religiously drank her hot chocolate all the while bundling up next to you so you both can watch the movie together playing on the laptop.

this one, well, he particularly doesn’t like this one.

if your other friend was meant to be a casualty, a death borne from not one smidge of personal vendetta, this one, this ryujin is different. heck, he even remembers her fucking name.

no, no, no. xiaojun can feel his skin crawl as ryujin cuddles intimately closer as she stares at you from her peripheral, feeling out whether you’d react or not as she sneaks an arm around your waist. his anger turns a fever pitch, seeing you with someone else driving him up the wall. you were meant to be his sad and hopeless little gazelle and his alone.

xiaojun hoped the poison travels fast or so help him he’ll fucking rip her off of you—and he would’ve, when he saw you and ryujin slowly leaning into one another, head angled and obviously going in for a kiss. he would’ve, when one of ryujin’s hands come up to cup your face. he would’ve… until the poison reached its destination in her body, right when your lips were about to touch.

ryujin’s lungs seized, breathing becoming an agent to her demise as the oxygen from her lungs disappear into nothingness. the last thing she saw is your horrified face, tears streaming. she swore you were shouting something, probably her name, but it’s overpowered by the incessant ring in her ears.

when her mouth foamed and she laid limp on the couch right next to you, you knew ryujin would never wake again to give you that kiss.

xiaojun steps back to admire the havoc he wreaked. two of your friends dead, that should be enough to incapacitate you—whether it be permanent or not, he just wants to see you drown in misery.

and as he slowly dissipates into the void, there’s a little smile on his face as he stares you down, burning the image of your histeria in his head, the echoes of your woeful cries music to his ears.

you never dared step foot out of your apartment.

groceries were delivered to your door, trash is slowly but surely building up, and the place was a whole mess. the entity haunting you has never seen you this… shattered, even when you left home. it was like your brain has stopped working and your body turned into nothing more but a cusp of who you used to be.

it’s scary looking in the mirror and not recognizing the reflection—so, you painted all of them black. it was an in the heat of a moment kind of thing that took place the moment you came home from the police station, on the exact day she passed away before your eyes.

xiaojun just has to “misplace” a few pints of paint you had used from when you renovated the apartment in the past, putting the cans where you can easily see them and think that the idea belonged to you when in reality, it’s the entity that put the idea in your head.

there was a blanket over your shoulder when you came back from the station. it wasn’t yours, they gave it to you while you sat opposite to a stoic detective in a cold interrogation room, yet you made no move to shrug it off even after arriving at your apartment, fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline and refusing to believe whatever that had transpired in ryujin’s apartment.

eyes unseeing, stumbling with your steps, back hunched with the curse of the universe weighing down on your back—xiaojun couldn’t’ve been more proud of what he had done.

you were spiraling out of control. a self-destructive cycle you cannot seem to fight your way out of as your nightmares came back to haunt you. the tall waves of anxiety and paranoia drowning and pushing you under the surface.

for once you don’t fight the current, you just let it pull you under.

every time you close your eyes, you can hear the deafening screech of rubber tires against concrete before the car hits yeji. can vividly see the foams of the poison coming out of ryujin’s mouth as if it was caught on tape and is now playing on loop.

your other friends have donned you as bad luck, cursed to have a fucked up life and will fuck up other people’s lives too if they get even as close as an arm length to you. too scared to lose any more people, you decided to completely push everyone away and had completely shut yourself out from the world beyond the four corners of your apartment.

it’s like your trauma from before has come crawling back to you, only now, he brings himself a little friend called guilt.

what are the odds that your two friends died after the other when the person they’ve each last spent time with was you? even the police found it too much a coincidence. if it wasn’t for the cctv cams in the corners of ryujin’s apartment, you’d be facing trial for a murder you didn’t commit.

you eye the usb stuck in one of your laptop’s ports. it’s black, with an srj poisoning case written in red ink on the small patch of masking tape pasted onto the back of the plastic.

after being stuck in an interrogation room for the last two hours, you had sneakily swiped it out of the detective's desk on your way out of the station. you remembered it was the usb with a copy of ryujin’s cctv cams, some underling busting into the interrogation room while in the middle of your questioning, holding the tiny usb between his fingers.

your stomach churned when the detective looked at you spitefully, as if he couldn’t fucking care less of the evidence presented to him in a silver platter and would thoroughly take pleasure in throwing you in jail himself, guilty or not. the last look he shot you still sends shivers down your spine, the sharpness in his gaze as he regarded you. “you killed them. i know you did.”

a week of self-induced isolation later and you start to believe in it yourself.

in the middle of screaming your lungs out and cursing the gods above for your sorry excuse of a life, you had thrown the usb somewhere in the apartment. not that you bothered to look for it right after, you were too busy wallowing in self pity before passing out on the living room floor. when you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it.

so it was interesting, seeing the usb again after days and days of wallowing in grief. you had fallen off the couch while in the middle of a slumber and you spotted the small piece of tech lying underneath it with the other empty coke cans.

eyeing the laptop on the coffee table, you remember you haven’t taken a look at the evidence yourself—the detective had given you the stink eye when you tried shuffling closer to peep a look. carelessly, you shove all other objects off the table to pull the laptop closer. you plant yourself on the ground cross-legged, not batting an eyelash even when you feel the crumbs of chips against your skin.

you boot the laptop on, thankful you’ve yet to forget its password, and plugged the usb in again. it was simple to navigate, to say the least, the folder popping up in a matter of seconds. you thought it stored a whole collection of her cctv footages but alas, it didn’t, saving you the time and energy scourging through unwanted boring files.

hands shaking, you clicked on the video.

and it was as if you’re thrown back into that event in your life that has now become a distant memory. the hug ryujin gave you when she opened the door, her words of comfort when you opened up about your deteriorating mental health after your friend passed away, and finally, the warm feel of the mug against the palm of your hand.

wait a minute.

you perk up from your seat, groaning aloud when your knee hits the underside of the coffee table at your haste, fingers darting around to press the back 10 seconds button. the sweat starts forming in your forehead and palms, making your hand feel clammy and disgusting but it was the last of your worries.

did you see that correctly?

the quality is a bit low and the camera angle isn’t optimal. you can only see ryujin’s side profile but her glassy eyes are unmistakable and her actions look robotic at best.

this is after she made your hot cocoa and had delivered it to your shivering, sniffling form on the couch, all bundled up snug and cozy in the blanket she provided. you remember ryujin winking as she walked back towards her kitchen after you thanked her.

the way she poured poison in her own mug ruled her case as suicice. the evidence is right there in your face but the unease still sits heavy on your stomach and confusion clouds your brain like cannabis.

this doesn’t make any sense.

you knew her, ryujin. she’s never one to succumb to her negative emotions, always facing her problems with head held high. her overall mindset, in general, made her the last person you’d think would ever commit suicide. you’ve replayed the video a thousand times by now, still unable to wrap your head around the fact that she killed herself.

having the sudden urge for another bottle of gatorade, you pressed the pause button as you try hauling yourself up with your arms.

you pause. pushing your face closer to the laptop screen, rubbing at your eyes incredulously as you eye the corner of her kitchen.

ryujin’s apartment isn’t that luxurious, nor is it too rundown, but there can be little exceptions here and there.

like the cheap LED bulbs attached rather messily onto her ceiling, one of the six sources of light flickering on and off. you remember how many times you’ve told her to get it fixed yet she never really paid you any heed.

with shaking fingers, you replayed it one more time, hoping on everything you believe in that it wasn’t what it looks like. this can’t be it—how is that possible—

it’s him, the man who has appeared like an angel in your dream to sweep you away from evil. but standing in the corner, under the flickering lights of your friend’s kitchen, he looked anything but an angelic.

your mind is going haywire, your body shook in confusion, and sweat started dribbling down your neck. you would’ve thought you made a mistake because how is this even possible? the angelic man in your dreams isn’t real—he can’t be real, he can’t appear like this when you aren’t even sleeping because he’s not real!

he can’t… right?

he doesn’t look too harmless, what with his hands crossed and leisurely leaning against the wall. but one look at his eyes and you know you’re wrong. even through the shit quality of the cctv footage you can still feel the fury and the absolute hate his eyes held as he stared her down menacingly, unblinking.

stared her down as she made her own cocoa, as she hunches down to open the sink cabinets to get that pesky rat poison, as she poured it on her mug, as she swirls the spoon around to mix the deadly concoction all together in a hauntingly robotic way that looked too much like ryujin was being told what to do.

and as you let the video play the rest of its content and felt like the tragedy was unfolding right before your very eyes again—you couldn’t breathe, panic gripping onto you like a vice, the sharp talons of fear sinking deep under your skin.

you don’t register the coffee table toppling over in your haste to stand up. desperately putting a distance between you and the laptop as you turned and stumbled towards the hallway leading to your bedroom.

you stop, pathetically landing on your knees before the open archway. if you hadn’t been shaking in fear before, then you surely were now.

he’s here—can you even call it a he?

the man stands at the end of the hallway. in that similar, non-threatening stature with his arms crossed and body leaning against the wall.

but the mischief in his eyes is enough of a warning.

he’s come for you.

he’s come to finish the job.

“finally figured it out?”

you screamed, throwing the closest thing you can at him as you shuffle someplace else in your apartment. his laugh sounded pleasant in the ear when you were off in dreamland, but now? it sounded like nails grating against a chalkboard.

your legs eventually led you to the front door. appearances be damned. you weren’t even wearing a bra and you haven’t showered for days but fuck no you’re not going to stay here with that—that—that monster!

“baby, don’t leave! the fun hasn’t even started yet!”

you grab the doorknob and twist, practically throwing yourself out into the hallway, eyes frantic as you stumble and land face first against—

sticky. the floor’s sticky and there was a smell you can’t seem to pinpoint. it’s tangy, metallic, and you can almost taste the scent yourself in your tongue and when you look down—you want to throw up.

lying next to each other in pools of their own blood, lies yeji and ryujin side by side, faces towards each other. their eyes hauntingly empty and unseeing as they stared up at you.

you shrieked, voice scratching against your dry throat as you threw yourself back into your apartment, the door slamming shut in itself. you didn’t care if there’s now a huge mess of blood staining the carpets on the foyer. you curl in on yourself, hair sticking to your face as you covered your ears and shut your eyes.

“oh, my love…”

you felt his presence before you can hear him.

a flashback plays in your head—hot chocolate, soft blankets, and a friend who you loved with all your heart. “don’t you think it’s a little chilly in here?"

you answered. “no, not really?”

the tears start streaming like waterfalls, mixing with the blood and sweat already caked in your face. ryujin knew, she felt it back at her apartment yet you disregarded her completely.

“it’s not your fault,” the entity’s hands are ice cold when he gently pulls at your wrist. “everything is as it should be. now, open your eyes. there’s nothing to be afraid of. i’m not going to hurt you.”

stubbornly, you shook your head as you squeezed your lids even tighter, refusing to look at the monster dead in the eye.

“don’t be like that, my love. if i wanted to hurt you, i would’ve done it a long time ago.”

you don’t listen, hunching and curling your knees even more against your torso as you try to block out his voice. it’s unfair how gentle it sounded but your blood ran cold when you realize this is how he got ryujin to poison herself, this is how he got yeji to walk in front of a speeding car—

“hail mary, full—full of grace,” you pray under your breath, shaking like a leaf. “the lord… the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women…”

“you’re praying?” there’s an underlying mocking to e in his voice. “this is fucking hilarious!”

your incessant mumbling partnered with how you rocked your body back and forth, made something snap within xiaojun. he already stated he won’t hurt you! did he break you so much that now you’re unable to hear stuff properly, too?

“holy mary, mo—mother of god, pray for us sinners, now and—and at the hour of our death, amen. hail mary, full of grace…”

“stop.” his body twitches, having the sudden urge to pull all his hair out and burn this fucking building to the ground.

yet you continue. “the lord is with thee, blessed art thou among—among women and blessed is the… the fruit of thy womb, jesus…”

“i said stop, [name]. don’t fucking test me.”

“holy mary, mother of god—pray—pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our—”

you screeched in pain as your forehead comes in contact with a mirror, the sound of it shattering is deafening to the ears. his icy fingers let go of your nape, letting you fall hard to the ground. your ears perk up at the sound of streaming water.

you weren’t in the foyer anymore, you feel cold tiles instead of the rough texture of the dirty carpet underneath you. eyes fluttering, you slowly pry them open, and the first thing you see is the faulty pipes found underneath your bathroom’s sink. patches of your clothes start getting wet.

“you think a prayer of all things can stop me? i’m insulted!” you hiss when he grabs your face, hands so cold that it feels like you’re skin is burning off. “i was going to play nice.”

he pulls you towards him, hand encased around your throat. he shoves the open hair dryer into the half-filled bath tub as you feel him vibrate against you. “you don’t know how long i waited, how much energy i needed to appear to you like this.”

it’s with dread you realize that he’s actually giggling.

you whine, eyes feeling like it’ll pop out of their sockets when he squeezed your neck tighter. with a sudden rush of adrenaline, you anchor your wrists against his arm but it proves to be useless when he’s too strong.

“please,” you wheezed. “i did… i did nothing wrong. let go—please.”

in the corner of your eyes, you stare at him from the mirror, stomach twisting in discomfort when you see him throwing his head back, eyes rolling up after taking a long whiff of your hair. “this—this fear you have, my love, only makes me stronger.”

“nothing… i did nothing wrong—please! please… let, let me go…” you’re starting to feel lightheaded, black spots floating around your vision.

“nothing? are you sure about that?”

you cringe when he licks up the tears in your face, toes curling at the sheer disgust you feel. but the words he spews next is far worse than the hand he’s wrapped around your throat.

“didn’t you left your mom alone with that abusive asshole? didn’t you make yeji walk into that incoming car? didn’t you make ryujin drink that poison?”

he whispers them so softly, so gently that you almost mistook them as proclamations of love.

“no…” your voice breaks.

“yes. yes, you did,” he knew you like the back of his hand, knew what to say and how to say them for you to break in his arms. “you killed them, my love. you’re a murderer. you don’t even deserve to be alive after all of the things you’ve done.”

it’s almost pathetic how you shake your head, eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the truth.

“that’s… that’s not true…”

“you’re a curse to the people you love, the embodiment of they're suffering. don’t you see it?”

“stop lying!—”

“am i?” he retorts, maneuvering you around to face the mirror. you swore you covered the whole thing with black paint. “just look at yourself.”

oh, how badly he wants to shove your face against the mirror but he mustn't get ahead of himself.

“did any of your friends even visit you to see how you’re doing?” no, they never did. he smiles like he knows what you’re thinking. “the answer is all before you now, my love. you need to see through the haze and accept it for what it really is. no one loves you. even the god you’re praying to didn’t answer. there’s nothing, no one, left.”

and for the first time since he has you in his tight hold, you stopped fighting. sobs wracking through your body as your shoulders slump and accept defeat.

xiaojun automatically lets you go, cooing like a lover in your ear as he tucks you into his embrace. “you want this all to stop, don’t you? someone to save you?”

you nodded, unable to look at him as his hand came up to wipe away your tears. no one has ever done that for you in months ever since yeji and ryujin died.

“i’m here,” xiaojun says, running fingers through your hair comfortingly. “i’m your light, your only saviour. you want that, right, my love?” choice is a mere illusion but he likes keeping up with formalities.

you fail to notice the steps he took towards the now overflowing bathtub, too lost in the new highs and lows of emotions you feel.

“yes.”

it only took seconds to push you into the tub. its water buzzing with a live electric current brought by the hair dryer he dropped only minutes ago.

the effect is instantaneous. he watches your muscle spasm, your skin growing darker as the live water fries your body alive. quickly, xiaojun reaches down to lift your head out the water, not wanting to ruin your pretty face.

the last thing you feel is xiaojun’s cold lips pressing against your own, the gentle caress as he wiped your tears away… and the electricity finally passing through your heart.

when the entity pulls away from your dead body, he only whispers three things—“mine, at last.”

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun scenarios #tw violence #tw religious themes #tw ptsd #tw swearing #tw mentions of suicide #tw murder #tw death #tw abuse #yandere xiaojun #yandere wayv

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the-scottish-costume-guy · 4 years

Text

JK Rowling, transphobia and a hopefully helpful post.

A few days ago I posted on my Facebook (yes I have one sue me) debunking some of the things Rowling has been saying on twitter. Since she made a statement I felt the need to make another one... but this time Im sharing it here. Please note this is long, it is fairly opinionated in places but her statements have felt so insidious I want to share something in depth. If you are cis I implore you to read, but I understand this is long and a lot of people wont want to. No judgement.

Jk Rowling’s latest statement is a mess of valid concerns and fear mongering. At this point there can be no claim she doesn’t know what shes talking about - she herself has said shes been researching this for years. She throws in token acknowledgements to “real” trans people while framing the rest of her statements as concern for confused teens.So first things first - and something that might not be popular with some of my trans friends. I agree that teenagers should not be able to medically transition. It is a choice that should be made when the brain is fully mature. Hormone blockers are something I trust - and that are reversible. I have seen enough detransitioned people hurting to feel like we do need to be careful - especially with children who are trying to find themselves. I dont know about other people but during my teens I was coming to the crushing realisation that I wasn’t special. I was learning that no matter how well I painted someone else did it better, no matter how badly I hurt someone had it worse - I was learning about the wonderful mediocrity of life, and having anything that made me stand out gave a brief reprieve from learning to be okay with all these things. For me to be fair it was dying my hair outrageous colours and dressing in black leather during 30 degree summer heat - but its still something we cant forget. I KNOW a lot of kids claiming to be trans are - and I dont want to keep that from them, however I dont want to cause harm to the kids that are wrong. Continuing on, I’d like to address her comments about TERFS. Terfs are Self Described Trans-exclusionary-radical-feminists and the term does get thrown around a little too liberally at times. Terf is not and never will be a slur. No more than “White” is. It is about a group of people who have taken it open themselves to segregate another group - and calling that what it is, is not a crime. The reason Terf and transphobe have become synonomic is because the ‘radical feminists’ that subscribe to this have lost focus on nearly all other issues of feminism and sit squarely on “dropping the T” from the lgbt community and “keeping men out of womens bathrooms.” Terfs are overwhelmingly women - this is sadly simply a fact. Terfs are reviled because of how much it feels like a betrayal to the community. A group that fights for rights - except ours. A group that wants equality - except for us. Its different to the conservatives who hate us all equally - with Terfs we are singled out. Terfs are not, as Rowling claims, inclusionary to Trans-men. I’ve been met with a combination of pity, loathing, mockery and revulsion by people within this group. I’ve been told that I shouldn’t let homophobia push me into transitioning - only for all correspondence to abruptly drop when I mention Im marrying another man. I’ve been told my old body was beautiful - only for stunned silence when I agree. I was beautiful - I was curvy, I was a dancer and had a body to match - but I wasn’t Me. When their usual arguments against me fail - I’m met with hate. Im called anti-woman, traitor, homophobic. I even have some such comments saved on my blog. I have yet to meet a Terf who was pro-trans-man. Rowling claims that had she had the ability, as a confused teen, she may have sought to transition. I hate to tell her but she did have the ability and trans people didn’t pop into existence in the twenty-first century. I’m actually looking to do my dissertation topic in my final year on lgbt presentation throughout history - and in my overeager way I’ve already started researching. James Barry has been becoming a common name for years - a transgender surgeon who died in 1865. If Barry was able to at least socially transition from 1790 to 1860, I am fairly sure Rowling could have in 1980 - over a century later. Rowling also claims that groups of friends in schools all suddenly identify as trans at the same time. Speaking from my school experience - the queer kids group together. We seek out others like us, and we take strength from each others bravery to come out - often around the same time. We almost get a rush of resolve when one of our group musters the courage and strength, and some of us use that rush to bite the bullet ourselves. Its one of the beautiful ways the lgbt community is here for one another - and the influx of people identifying as trans is partially a factor of more people knowing the name of their feelings. Survivor bias will ignore the trans people through history without the knowledge or means to transition - and will claim they were never trans at all. Her initial statements about charities worry me in particular. As I said last time - we know sex is real, we just dont really like to be defined by it. She is worried that we’re going to “rebrand medicine” and ignores that medications for years have had warnings in their leaflets about “If you are or become pregnant” regardless of if the person receiving it has a dick or a vagina. We dont advocate for ignoring the differences in how people respond to heart attacks - and I for one would like research to be done on how hormones effect that. I dont actually know if I would respond more like a cis gender woman or a cis gender man if I were to have a heart attack or a stroke. But where possible we do want to change the language around some of these things. I have had a double mastectomy, but some Cis-men have these as well. This is not a gendered term. Why should a period be called anything else? Why call it a “womens problem.” I and Im sure many other trans people, support the research into how different medical and mental issues affect different sexes. I just think that should be extended further - and we know it should, as some medical issues affect people of different ethnicities in different ways and we don’t know how. I am truly sorry that Rowling has experienced abuse and assault of any nature. I am truly sorry that she has felt unsafe. But her feelings do not invalidate others experiences. Of the trans people I know, a saddening number have been assaulted, have been abused and in particular have experienced these things domestically. There is much work to be done on this in the UK. There are nearly no mens shelters for sufferers of violence to my knowledge. I, a trans man who have experienced some of these things in my teen years, would Not want to be around cisgender women even if I could be. A cis woman was responsible for much of the pain I personally suffered - and in fact one of the acts of violence she carried out against me was directly after I came out as trans to her. Trans women, even if they could go to male shelters, should not have to be surrounded by a group that put them in danger - in a place that is detrimental to them physically and mentally and is frankly degrading. The belief that allowing trans women into shelters for those escaping abuse is dangerous is sad. To be so afraid is deserving of pity. To let fear blind you to the suffering of others - to think its better that a trans woman face homelessness or a return to an abusive household because you personally would sleep better at night is the kind of passive evil we should be aware of in this day and age. It comes from choosing to see the word “trans” before “person.” Its from choosing to see a persons genitals before their humanity. Trans people are not dangerous - and cause no greater risk than any other demographic. Her claims that she can empathise with this fear are empty. A gender recognition certificate is not a ticket into womens bathrooms. Funnily enough you dont actually require a piece of paper to go almost anywhere. I do not have a gender recognition certificate and use male bathrooms, can enter male spaces as I please. All a gender recognition certificate does is change the letter on your birth certificate. It doesn’t even affect other forms of identification - my passport, my student id, my drivers license all already say male. I am not sure why so many people have chosen this as their hill to die on because its the least relevant thing to them on the planet. How often have any of you seen another persons birth certificate? Rowling says she and other ‘gender critical’ (a terf dogwhistle) people are concerned for trans youth. Well… she can take her condescending concern and direct it to matters that are relevant to her. Trans people want to be left alone. Its a simple request, and yet people endlessly seem to trip over the dirt level bar.

#transgender #jk rowling #terf #transphobia #lgbt #uk politics #I'm prob gonna get shit for this arent I

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zeynepbal · 3 years

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Started cleaning home like 3.30 in the morning, after I woke up to a continuing talk with a friend on whatsapp at 3 am.

While tidying and cleaning the house I was thinking may be I was a bit harsh on him because after all he did not say anything bad and all he thinks is my good will - yet now after thinking an hour while tidying the house I am pretty sure it is not good for me

Society is a strange concept. You can never stay all free unless you go and start a life by yourself in the jungle. Otherwise you always have to be a part of it - even when you dont think so. My dad my mom always and still making me erase some posts which I think they are mostly right about their criticism because they are the only people may be who truely knows my way of thinking yet there is one more thing they know : how others may think and can understand my thoughts in a different way.I can clearly and confidently say that being a parent of mine should be really tiring. Dealing with a “child” for 37 years who mostly has a different point of view than the society.

Same is valid for my friends. I do think that it should be really haed to deal with me. When you make a dirty joke to your friend and when she does not get it constantly should be annoying. And think that when she gets it she just scolds you for being childish.

I dont understand how people connect certain images with certain situations. Kissing a cat video might be found “sexy” by people or wearing a short skirt can be thought as trying to be alluring. Throwing a birthday party for a friend could be understood as trying to steal him from his wife for example. Or I dont know how but being good friends with a male friend and telling here and there that you missed him can be seen as you two have something special. Or hugging a person can be misread as having something between.

I find these thoughts always so “not understandable”. I do like implies and I use them a lot only when I am broken or only when I have to tell some one to do sth or only when I need to reject someone. Because I dont like to hurt anyone yet I dont understand how people can think you imply something when you say you miss some one or love some one or like someone. These words are good words. These are full of emotion words. However howcome in the end all are connected to romantic relations I don get - even while writing here as “romantic relations” I struggled because a person can love a tree and it may be romantic in a way yet it is not the way generally people understands. I remember one certain memory: my mom telling my ex fiancée that I might write a poem for a freaking chair as if it is a person which does not mean that I am in love with anyone.

And now yeah we are there.. Lets return the beginning of this page. Yeah I was harsh on a friend and thought a lot during cleaning the home. Why I was harsh was because he thinks that I need someone in my life - which I surely dont think so , decided this morning. As I wrote him “ I do make talks about relationships, I do behave as if I am interested but I am not. I do have these “fake” standing because of my age. Because when I behave as if true myself people find it fake because up to society a 37 year old woman should be interested in the stuff like this. So they do not accept I dont give a damn heck about these talks.” And this is why I always act as if. Today I just though how unhappy I was when I was about to get married at the age of 26-27, was waking up in the middle of the night and thinking how I truely did not wanna get married : and it was the society in the first place making me say “yes” to a person that I did not wanna get married because up to society a woman should do this do that etc etc etc.

And now it is an another phase: the phase that in order not to be misunderstood or labelled I have to act as if I am interested in some men otherwise people or their girlfriends see you as a threat as if their husbands or boy friends are made up of gold and you are hitting on them. Hello! I am not interested. So first in order to stop these gossips about you you should behave as if you are interested in someone otherwise people dont get you may not be interested in anyone. I dont understand why it should be black and white in every situation and dont get why people are so blind to gray. Another point is in order people not to misunderstand your gender you have to show your interest to men. I dont care if they think I am not straight or so but they talk. They talk a lot. And in year 2021 people still think being a gay is something funny and not normal. I pity these people yet I am straight and it is the same rudeness calling a gay as straight when you call a straight person as a gay. So in order not to be misunderstood I do have to make “men” talk on social media or in my life because people dont get “how come you dont?! At a 37 person howcome you cant have any specific point on men you find sexy?! How come you cant have a type?! Oh come on you are lying!!” I actually dont lie yet in order to deal with these situations I learnt to lie. As I told my friend this morning “I seriously do some talks because otherwise is impossible for people and I just dont wanna deal with them”

And this is actually how society puts a pressure on you without knowing. Lots of friends trying to make me up with some one: and my honest opinion this is so “waste of time” meeting with someone for a date. I mean isnt it? You both know that you meet on a specific purpose to understand if you are compatible or not and to me being compatible doesnt mean “love”. They find me rude when I say “no” to these date offers or imply that I am not interested because to them we would be very good or they are wanting my goodness which I reject. And what they dont understand within all these years is, ME. How I see the things. I like things being in their natural way. If I ll have a relationship it should happen in a natural way. I should fall in love for example. But no! For the society as a 37 year old (up to them beautiful) woman should not be alone or if she is alone there should be something wrong with her. And may be something wrong with me because I do care about emotions rather than “shoulds”

So as a result today I decided that I wont be making the same mistake as I did years ago : letting the society shape me and letting myself go with the flow and I was about to get married with a man I did not love just because it was expected by my friends or the people around me. Today I remembered how down I was feeling on those days and I dont wanna feel like that again. I do want a child yes. And there are other ways to “get” one like stealing some other people’ child (lol jk ofc).

Oh just an another point. I am never the kind of person who is able to show her feelings to the guy she likes (became a big problem in one of my relationships because he was always questioning that I am very physical and touchy to everyone yet not to him. And yeah! If I am hugging you or touching you this means my flirting probabilty with you is 0%) yet I found something I find irritating is “although I like the man doing the first second third…10th move until I understand he is interested, I seriously turn off when he gets harsh on me and openly shows his interest” this is the thing I can say “weird” about myself,for example because this is “weird”.

But the other stuff, I dont think that the way of thinking I have is weird. I dont think having no interest in speaking about relationships, not wanting to listen your “bed time sexual problems or stories” with your husbands/wives or lovers is weird. Because it is not my business but when I say this you call me either rude or weird. So I tried to act in a way you wanted and faked a lot which made me exhausted and today I just bursted as “E NOUGH!”. Because the more I try to fake in a way society wants me to, the more weird my behaviors become.

So I wont be doing any more. This is me. I wont act as the society wants me to act. Do think I have issues because I am not interested in the “make up” dates you arranged? Then I have issues, your opinion. Do you think I am in love with someone just because I told I love him? Then I am in love, your opinion. Do you think I am hitting on you because I asked to meet for a drink? Then I am hitting on you, your opinion. None are the thoughts or feelings of mine. I remember a talk with marcos. He asked me “you use the word love for everything. It is open to misunderstandings” and I told him “for you. You k ow me now and you know I dont use that word as many people may understand”. Same here. When I say I miss a friend and wish him or her here with me etc doesnt mean that I love/loved him or her in a way you think.

#age #dates #relationships

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girlsluvbot · 4 years

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MATCHMAKER pt.1

pairing: roseanne park × fem! reader

genre: fluff, angst

about:

matchmaker /ˈmatʃmeɪkə/

noun

a person who arranges marriages or initiates romantic relationships between others.

"an enthusiastic matchmaker who continually tried to pair off the difficult bachelor with unattached ladies"

a/n: i'm back!!! hehe this goddamn thing took so long to write, i both despise and adore it with every fibre of my being. enjoy my blood, sweat and tears in the form of a fic.

You loved your job. Very few people are lucky enough to be able to relate to that statement, and you were thankfully one of them. Hell, not only did you love your job, you were extremely good at it.

Since you were a little kid, writing nas always been your biggest passion. Wether it was writing short stories, poems or essays about the french revolution, you were always happy when you were able to put your feelings and thoughts onto paper. This was the main reason why you became the manager of your local newspaper during middle school, high school and eventually even university.

You've won multiple writing contests and even people who had no idea what your name was knew one thing about you: you were an amazing writer.

Years of practice, your impeccable set of skills and a recommendation letter from your university professor secured you a job at Vogue almost immediately. After all this hard work, you finally achieved everything you were looking for. You were truly happy.

Until this very moment.

"Well, I don't know," the woman sitting in front of you made a disgusted grimace, "it just lacks any emotion whatsoever. I've quite literally never read something so stiff and akward."

And here they were. The first words of criticism you have ever recieved. You were so used to everyone praising your work, you didn't know how to react or respond.

Three months ago, you would have never gotten into a similar situation: simply because there was nothing about your work to critize. But a lot has changed in the past few weeks, and not exactly in the good kind of way.

When you first joined Vogue, you were the head editor and journalist of the spread dedicated almost entirely to interviews. Thats what you did, talked to celebrities and wrote about them. And that's what you were good at, almost too good.

Just a year after working in the magazine you got promoted. You were still the head editor, but now of a completely different part of the journal: one dedicated to a single topic. Love. This was bad news, very bad news.

Why, you ask? The reason was fairly simple but no less embarrassing. Even as the head editor of a spread all about love, you've never experienced it yourself. In other words, you've never been in love. And how are you supposed to write about something you know nothing about?

Your boss looks at you and shakes her head. She reaches for the stack of papers on the table in front of her and starts reading, "For example; 'His lips brushed against mine. They were soft. The kiss was short but sweet. I loved it.' What the actual heck? I kiss my cat more passionately than this." she took off her glasses and started massaging the crook of her nose.

"Listen, Y/N, I've read your previous pieces and they were simply wonderful. But this? I don't even know what else to say without hurting your feelings."

"I'm so sorry. I know, it's just that I dont have much experience in said area." you don't finish the sentence, hoping she somehow gets the memo. She doesn't.

"What area?"

"Love. I dont have much experience with love." you blurt out the words that have been on your mind nonstop since the day of your promotion.

"Oh, you poor thing" she leans back in her chair, her eyes scanning your every move, "Isn't that unfortunate."

You nod your head slowly, trying not to get offended at her words full of pity.

"How are you supposed to write romance stories then? This won't work." the woman grabs a post-it note

"Are," your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, "Are you firing me?"

"Are you crazy? Of course I'm not," she hands you the piece of paper with a phone number, "We just have to improvise for the time being. Do you know Roseanne Park? She's the manager of our Matchmaker spread. You can be her assistant for the next few months, help her around, learn a thing or two. Hopefully your writing wont be so...bland after."

To be completely honest, you didn't handle changes well. Maybe that's why you were standing in front of your new, and hopefully temporary, bosses office, trying to build up the courage to knock on her door.

One of the reasons why you were so nervous was that Roseanne Park, the manager of the Vogue Matchmaker was insanely attractive. Admittedly, you did some online stalking the night before- okay, a lot of it. Here's the thing; you were a planner. Whether it came to your career, writing or even relationships, you liked to beprepared.

That's why after a few hours spent on the internet, you knew everything. The name of her sister (Alice Park), if the had a pet (yes, a fish named Joohwangie) and who her favorite band was (The 1975).

You weren't usually like this, so head over heels for a girl you haven't even met. But your writing, the reason you were here in the first place, didn't usually suck so after all, some things really do change easily.

Just as you reached for the dark wooden door in front of you, it opened before your hand could even touch it's sleek surface.

"Oh!" the tall woman stopped in her tracks. Thanks to your thorough internet digging, you instantly recognized her. Roseanne Park. Your new boss. A 'matchmaker' if you will.

"You must be Y/N! I've heard that you're going to be my assistant for a bit." your cheeks heated up for no apparent reason. Did she know the reason why you got transferred here so quickly? Every molecule in your body wished and prayed to every possible god out there that she didn't.

"Yeah, that's me!" you finally composed yourself enough to speak, but that didn't mean your voice didn't sound like one of a twelve year old boy going through puberty- high pitched and squeaky.

You examined her face more in depth, and realized quite a few things:

She was somehow even prettier in real life. How? you had no idea. Some people just really won the genetics lottery, you thought.

Her hair was red. Like undeniably, undoubtedly red. In all of the pictures you found yesterday it was either brown or black, so this change caught you off guard. You couldn't complain though, because this girl looked like a hotter version of Ariel with a much better sense in fashion (and music).

"Have you been standing out here for too long?"

"Oh no, I just arrived." lying has never been so easy.

"Great! I'm gonna go downstairs to grab a package but you can look around the office while I'm gone," she opened the door a bit to let you walk in.

You did as she told you and entered the room. The door closed behind you without you noticing, the only thing you could focus on was this girl's office. It looked just like you would imagine heaven to look like- full of light, white furniture and expensive looking leather couches.

There were pictures everywhere: a dozen of four young girls (one of them being Roseanne), a few more of her with famous celebrities and one of a familiar looking face- her sister.

You carefully walked towards the table in the middle of the room, not wanting to damage anything. You noticed quite a bit of unexpected clutter, and above everything a print of the brand new Vogue issue. A woman on the cover flashed you a beautiful smile as you picked it up. The headline stated: Kim Jisoo talks acting, NYFW and love.

You flipped the glossy magazine pages to find the spread dedicated to said interview and noticed just what you were looking for: the author of the article. The credits at the bottom of the page revealed a nice surprise- Author; Roseanne Park.

"Well what do you think? Is it a good article?" your soul almost left your body when you realized who was standing next to you. You quickly put the magazine down, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to touch your stuff. I just saw the cover and..."

"Oh my gosh, are you kidding? That's completely okay, I don't mind." she pointed to the journal, "That interview is actually one of the favorite pieces I ever wrote, and not just because it's about Jisoo. Plus, my friend took the pictures, so it was extra fun." She opened the spread again and pointed to a name credited right next to hers, Photographer; Lalisa Manoban.

"Oh wow. I've seen her pictures before, they're really good. I with I could take photos like that. Seriously."

Here's one thing to note: when you're nervous, you ramble. Like a lot. Some people would say its better than staying silent, but let's be honest- it's like stepping into a puddle instead of mud. Not a disaster, but there's still plenty to complain about.

Thankfully, Roseanne only giggled, "I know exactly what you mean. I hope you'll get to work with her someday."

You both stared at the magazine spread for a second before Roseanne broke the silence.

"But now, let's get to bussines. Sit down please, this might take a while," she pointed tkwards one of the leather couches you noticed earlier and took a seat at the other side of the table.

"So, as you probably already know, my name is Roseanne Park. As a manager of Matchmaker, my job is to read these letters," she grabben a handful of papers for emphasis, "and respond to them, give advixe basically. The title 'Matchmaker' comes from the fact that the majority of the letters talk about love. Any questions so far?"

When you shook your head no, she continued, "As my assistant, your job is fairly simple. You're going to sort and read through the hundreds of letters I recieve weekly and pick the most interesting ones for me to feature. And occasionally, you might accompany me to a few interviews. Sounds good?"

You slowly nodded, processing all the new information. Letters, answers, interviews and a hot boss. That doesn't sound so bad.

"Great. So Y/N," she suddenly stood up, "Would you mind going with me to Subway? I'm starving."

By the time you were finished with lunch, you had a new point to add to your list of realizations about your new boss:

She loves food, and by loves I mean LOVES.

The moment you arrived at the restaurant, food was the only thing she would talk about. She told you about what she had for dinner and breakfast, what kind of snacks she hid in the office and what kind of salad she was getting alongside a baguette.

After she actually managed to get a bit of calories into her system (thanks to a foot-long chicken turkey sandwich) the conversation finally got more interesting.

Don't get me wrong, you could listen to this girl talk for hours, no matter the topic. But after listening to a thirty minute long monologue about why pineapple pizza is the best thing ever invented, even you have reached your limit.

"So," you start, in an effort to break the ice, "how long have you been working at Vogue?"

She squints at the toast in front of her, trying to remember, "About five years? Yeah, it's gonna be five years in May."

"Oh wow, that's impressive."

She tilts her head, "Is it? I mean, when you work as often as I do, time just goes by. I don't even remember the last time I went out with my friends to discuss something that wasn't work related."

You pout, regretting the choice to ask her about work.

"But at the same time, I love what I do so I can't really complain. What about you though? Why did you decide to become a journalist?"

"Oh, I started just a year ago. And I studied literature, so I guess becoming a journalist made sense."

"Why did you study literature then? There's so many other better paying jobs out there."

"I don't think anyone works in such a field for money, that's for sure," you try to lighten the atmosphere, "Well, my mom wanted to become a writer, but she got pregnant before she could finish her book and she's been pretty much busy ever since. I guess her love for books kind of rubbed off on me."

Roseanne nods, to let you know she's listening. "I'm glad you and your mom have such an important aspect of your lives in common. My mother wanted me to become a lawyer, I doubt she's ever read even a single fiction book in her entire life."

"What does she think about your job now?"

Her lips tighten and she crosses her arms. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since," her eyes seem empty, their signature spark gone. You can tell you struck a nerve. "I haven't talked to her since I moved out."

"Well, I'm sure that she's proud of you," you can't help but add.

Rosie lets out a dry laugh, "You don't know my mother then," she slowly pushes her plate away, "I think I'm full so I'm gonna head back to the office."

Sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut. You learned this the hard way.

You head back after your lunch break ends, alone. Even though Roseanne walked you through everything she expects you to help around with, you know that your job doesn't start and end with sorting through letters.

You softly knock on the office door before heading in. She's already sitting there, behind her desk. Without looking up from her laptop, she scoffs, "You're late."

"It's just five minutes," you shrug, not taking her tone seriously. Finally, she raises her sight to meet yours. Even without her saying anything, you understand. Do not play around with fire.

You mumble an apology and quickly run to the small hallway at the other side of the room which leads to your own (significantly smaller) office.

"What makes you think I'm done?" Turning around, you notice that her eyes are piercing through your back. Unsure of what she expects you to do, you walk back in front of her.

"While you were out there doing god knows what for two hours," you resist the urge to roll your eyes, "I already did your job and sorted through the letters. You're welcome."

She walks around the table and pushes a thick stack of papers against your chest, "That means you'll be doing my job and write replies to them. Can you handle that?"

You try not to show her how terrified you are. You? Giving relationship advice? Sounds like a recipe for a royal disaster. Instead, you rise your chin and smile, "Yes ma'am."

She visibly winces at the formal title, but still nods and returns to her seat. You take this as a sign to head back to your spot and do your job. Well, her job for now.

You sit down calmly and shuffle through the papers, trying not to look too freaked out. What the heck are you going to do now?

A quick peek at your boss reveals that she's either busy with work or just flat out ignoring you.

Trying to remain collected, you pick out the top letter from the pile. The first paragraph reads:

Hi Rosie! I'm a huge fan of your Matchmaker spread :) I never thought I'd be the one writing you a message but here we are hahaha. (Let's hope this gets featured!)

You roll your eyes but continue reading,

Me and my boyfriend have been dating for just about two months and I would describe our relationship as 'lowkey'. We first met at a bar a last year but we surprisingly didn't immediately hit it off.

With a raised eyebrow you skip over a page full of sappy descriptions and relationship stories, before getting to the end of the letter.

So what should I do? He's really sweet but I'm not sure if I'm ready to meet his family just yet.... please help! Love, Courtney.

You fold the paper back to it's original state with a quiet gulp. What on earth did you get yourself into?

#blackpink #blackpink scenarios #park chaeyoung #rosé #rosé fluff #rosé angst #rosé smut #rosé x reader #girlfriend rosé #blackpink rosé #blackpink rose #rose angst #rose fluff #blckpink fluff #blackpink angst #blackpink smut #roseanne park #rosé park

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foolgobi65 · 4 years

Text

careful man’s careless daughter

@philtstone prompted: Anne/Gilbert babysitter au fake dating prompt #5 let’s go laydees “you have the emotional capacity of a brick. that slate I broke over your head.” (we’re pretending people still use slates now....american schools have no money...its possible ok)

k so i was trying to figure out how to work in the babysitter + fake dating and ... like a flash the plot to this old telugu/tamil movie i love missamma/missaimaa came to mind -- its not quite the same because they’re two people pretending to be married so that they can make money as school teachers/live in tutors for a wealthy family’s daughter but it works just enough that i decided to roll with it lol.

this technically isn’t the actual babysitting, nor the fake dating which I actually turned into a fake marriage lol, but i hope u still like it, even though it is all over the place and a general wreck because i wrote it straight through without any editing or thought towards pacing/characterization bc i havent written in forever lol!! im not even sure what the time period setting is lol, and i dont think my translating of the anne events into a semi modern day even works but w/e lol.

u are the truest of friends, the light of my life, and have certainly heard more than your share of my mental breakdowns both in the last month and the last few years lol. u deserve all the good things, all the good fic, all the time.

title is a perversion of a tswift lyric because it came up on youtube. if anyone wants to send in prompts from here

---

“You owe him how much?”

Anne sighs, crossing her legs to hide how uncomfortable she is in this moment -- here she is in the park, fifteen thousand dollars plus interest in medical debt for Marilla’s eye surgery and being hounded by Roy Gardner, ex boyfriend apparently turned loan shark who was on his knees proclaiming both love and loan forgiveness should Anne just accept his proposal.

Here Gilbert Blythe is, sitting on a park bench after two years without contact, watching the whole thing.

“Marilla doesn’t have health insurance,” Anne says, eyes on the ground as she uses the toe of her shoe to grind a leaf into the sidewalk cement. “Even when I was teaching, the union plan didn’t let people add parents on as dependents.” She sighs. “With everything happening with the farm, she couldn’t afford to put money towards a plan and so when her eyes got bad....”

For a moment, there is silence. Anne can almost hear Gilbert’s jaw clench “That’s just wrong.”

Anne laughs, and because her eyes are averted she doesn’t see Gilbert flinch. “That’s America, Blythe.”

“Well,” she hears him say, tone just dripping with what Mrs. Rachel would call the Blythe Stubbornness, “It shouldn’t be.”

She won’t ever admit it, but there’s something Anne has always found deeply compelling about Gilbert when he gets into these moods -- all righteously indignant in a way that Anne feels inside of her own body. Or felt, before Matthew died and left behind debts not even Marilla had known about, and Marilla’s eyes worsened around the the time Anne was let go from her teaching job and even if she had had the job it wouldn’t have mattered, she knows, but still. Beautiful, wonderful, beloved Diana had offered to help, of course she had, but Anne knew that Fred’s business wasn’t yet where it should be and that the parents Barry were still unimpressed with their son in law to be’s financial acumen. So she’d had to go to Roy, who had of course lent his beautiful Anne the money, and of course had arranged for Marilla to be treated at the best hospital in Toronto, of course had set them up in the apartment of a friend of his right in downtown where the rents were a thousand maybe two per month. He’d popped the question for the third time the second Marilla had been released back into Anne’s care.

Almost as if he can hear her thoughts, Gilbert speaks -- “Gardner shouldn’t be harassing you like this either. Who ever heard of charging interest on a loan to a friend? And what on earth does he think he’s going to take from you if you just don’t pay?”

Anne burns. This, she hasn’t told Marilla, nor even her darling Diana. For some reason, it seems alright to tell Gilbert. “The farm,” she mumbles.

Gilbert snorts. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard. Are you saying that Roy Gardner, heir to one of the biggest fortunes in Boston and your ex boyfriend, took your home as collateral on a loan for money you needed to pay for your mother’s surgery?”

Anne says nothing. She still hasn’t looked up at him, hasn’t been able to meet his gaze since she sat down on the bench and told Roy to get up off his knees and wait two months for either his money or her affirmative answer. She blinks, having mercifully forgotten that Gilbert was present for that last bit. She hopes he’s forgotten too.

“And wait, before he left you said....” No such luck. “Anne!” Anne’s sure her entire head must be flame as she closes her eyes, bringing her knees up on the park bench and burying her face into her own lap. “Anne you said you’d marry him if you couldn’t get the money!”

“There’s no debt between spouses,” Anne mumbles. “We’d get to keep the farm, and I wouldn’t ever worry about Marilla’s health again.”

“But you don’t love him!” She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard Gilbert sound so scandalized.

“I used to!” she tries to retort, but even Anne knows that her voice betrays her when she tries to speak this lie. “I used to think I was,” she amends, “and maybe that’s as close as I’m allowed to get -- he’s rich, handsome, he even loves me! What more could I ask for?”

“Coercing you into marriage, demanding interest on money that we all know is just pocket change for someone like him...that’s not love,” Gilbert Blythe responds, with all that....that all-knowing Blytheness in his voice that Anne has hated since she was 13 years old and the new kid in a class of people who had always known each other just as easily as they had known themselves. “Love is selfless, Anne, strong and kind. It makes you better for giving away your heart, even if the one you love doesn’t give you theirs in return.”

Gilbert Blythe, always acting as if he knows something Anne does not. He speaks as if he’s been in love, at some point over the years since he was last in Avonlea and for some reason Anne absolutely burns with that knowledge. Ooh she just hates him, now at 24 just as easily as she had at 13!

“And what exactly is love worth if it means I just lose the farm trying to pay for Marilla’s surgery, and still have nothing for the next time she’s sick?” Suddenly Anne is on her feet, hands on her hips as she glares at Gilbert looking quite alarmed as he still sits on the bench. The words she has kept locked on the inside, too private to even be written in a diary, come pouring out in one big rush:

“Three of my four parents are already dead, Gilbert Blythe.” Her voice hitches, to her horror, her sudden fury vanishes as she has to blink away the tears she has kept at bay since she and Marilla buried Matthew. Damn Gilbert, for bringing this out of her as well. “I can’t...I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.” Her lips thin, and with a breath, her voice steadies. “I don’t care what you, or anyone else thinks about my choices if it means that I can take care of Marilla.”

Gilbert’s eyes have the sheen of his own tears when he stands, his own lips wobbling just slightly. “I...” he swallows. “Of course, Anne.” Something Anne recognizes as self hatred passes briefly over his face, but she doesn’t understand. “I wish I had money like Gardner to give you, I really do.”

Anne gentles, even if something inside her twists to be the object of the long-old guilt mixed with pity, much less Gilbert Blythe. Since Matthew’s death, every person in Avonlea it seems has sat with Anne and Marilla and offered their deep condolences, their absolute shock at the pair’s financial state of affairs, how much they wish they could help but sadly cannot, what with the way the bank’s collapse has hit their own finances. Only families like the Gardners survive economic crashes with money to burn.

“I wouldn’t have taken it even if you had,” she offers instead, shrugging casually.

His eyes flash. “But you took Gardner’s?”

“I thought he loved me!” Anne closes her eyes, somehow feeling her cheeks flush even deeper. This is why she’s avoided all mention of Gilbert Blythe so strenuously since high school graduation, because more than anyone else he is the one who drags out the words she is always learning to keep inside. Here he is, somehow pulling confessions Anne hadn’t even dreamed of telling Diana, confessions that make her seem small, and stupid, lost in a world so much more complicated and treacherous than she can handle all on her lonesome.

Well, she thinks, in for a penny --

“I thought he loved me,” she says, “and that he had the money to spare. I didn’t realize...” She looks away again, so that she never has to see him react to her folly.

“Oh Anne,” Gilbert says, for some reason so soft and stricken that Anne’s knees go weak with her sudden desire to fall to the ground and weep. “You deserve so much better.”

And now she’s angry again. “What would you know about what I deserve?” Anne spits, “you haven’t even been home since you started med school!” Vaguely, Anne thinks that Gilbert hasn’t been home since she and Roy had gotten serious, serious enough for her to bring him to Green Gables and show him the place that had been her very first love. Coincidences can be so strange.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says, glaring again at the ground. “None of this matters. I’m just going to go home” Anne clenches her jaw, knowing that when she gets back to Green Gables she will go into her room and play every excruciating part of this conversation back in her head, again and again until she throws up or passes out at dawn from sheer exhaustion. Maybe both, if she’s lucky. She leans back slightly and manages to turn around on her heels, a trick Gilbert Blythe had always pulled at school and had had girls thinking he was so cool.

She’s five minutes away from the park bench when suddenly she hears him call out her name.

“Anne,” he shouts again much closer, bending at his waist to balance his hands at his knees as he pants. “God, it really has been two years since I was on the university football team.”

Despite the roiling emotions of five minutes ago, Anne’s lips quirk. “I can’t imagine you all practiced very much to end up near the bottom of your league every year.”

Gilbert’s eyes widen, and for some reason he flushes. Maybe he’s so out of shape that it’s from exertion? “I didn’t realize you kept up with my matches.” Ah. Anne, it seems, will experience nothing else but one long sustained flush as long as she is in front of Gilbert Blythe. “You know,” she tries to say casually, “you hear things here and there. Diana told me the village gossip.”

Gilbert opens his mouth, but then suddenly shakes his head, like a dog trying to dislodge water from its fur. “I have...” he frowns. “I have a proposition for you.” Anne raises what she hopes is an elegant eyebrow. “Oh?”

He grimaces. “There’s a boarding school, a Catholic one, that’s asking for teachers over the summer for a few of their select students who want to be coached for college admissions. Essays, standardized tests, everything. They’ve got heaps of money, and are willing to pay salaries up front. Plus, they cover all your expenses while you’re there!”

Anne blinks, feeling the beginnings of hope gather as kindling at the very dredges of her heart. Once, both Anne and Gilbert had competed so well against each other that they had both gotten into Harvard. Then, Matthew had died, and Anne decided she could just as easily get a teaching degree at the state school and stay closer to Marilla too. Gilbert alone had had the distinction of being the first from Avonlea to reach such heights, and had reached even higher when he had been accepted again to Harvard Medical School.

But at one point, both Anne and Gilbert had taken their SATs. They’d both written their application essays. They’d both gotten in. Anne, even, had been offered a full ride compared to Gilbert’s only partial scholarship, so there could even be an argument that of the two, Anne had been the one on top.

And if nothing else, Anne is even better at teaching than she was at taking tests.

“I’ll do it,” she says firmly. “Where and when do I need to report, and how much money are they offering?” For a second, a bright, dazzling grin paints Gilbert’s face. “Really? Ten--” he coughs, “Twenty thousand.” Anne frowns.

“Each?” It sounds like a dream come true. Five thousand more than Anne needs, and paid upfront. She could save the farm, and put away five thousand towards the farm’s debts. “That sounds....exorbitant.” He nods, suddenly more confident. “Yep! Twenty thousand for sure.” He laughs. “I know Gardner was supposed to be slumming it at state school, but you really can’t be surprised at how much money rich people are willing to throw at a problem.”

“The problem being...their children.” Gilbert’s grin turns wicked. “The problem being their children’s SAT scores, and lack of compelling anecdote to base an admission’s essay on, yes.”

Anne laughs, wicked in this moment as well. She wishes in this moment, fiercely, as she has many times over the last few years, that she had been able to go to university with Gilbert at her side -- as the friends they had slowly begun to be after years of one and two sided enmity, before time and distance had turned them into near strangers. She doesn’t regret staying back, not really, but there is a part of her that no one had ever understood half as well as Gilbert Blythe, who had, after the Harvard interest meeting, drawn and pinned up a schedule for practice SATs that took into account both his and Anne’s often conflicting life schedules.

“What’s the catch,” she asks, grinning when Gilbert chokes “come on, Blythe, there’s always a catch with offers like this. Is it across from a waste manufacturing plant? Is the principal a pervert?”

Slowly, Gilbert Blythe is turning red. “Ah,” he says, shuffling like he never did even when he was an errant schoolboy. “Well,” he says, and....is that his voice cracking?

“Gilbert,” Anne says, trying to reassure him, “I grew up in the foster system, I can handle much worse than bad smells and pervert principals, I promise.”

He frowns. “It’s not that,” he says slowly, “but basically they’re looking for two teachers, a man and a woman to manage the boys and the girls while the rest of the staff go on vacation.”

Anne smiles, trying to ignore the jolt of her heart at the thought of an entire summer with Gilbert, studying like they used to but as friends. Her old dreams, finally coming true. “That’s perfect then, you take one job and I’ll take the other! It’ll be like old times, kind of.”

He smiles faintly, as if, even after locking horns with the best and brightest at Harvard, Anne is still the person he wants to be trading barbs with over the heads of high school students for months on end. “I’d like nothing better, he says, except...”

“Except?”

Gilbert inhales. “ExceptTheSchoolWillOnlyHireAMarriedCoupleSoThatTheyDon’tHaveToWorryAboutOutofWedlockSexorTeachersHavingSexWithStudents.” All in a rush, and now Gilbert is the one who can’t apparently handle eye contact.

“What?”

“The school,” Gilbert says to his shoes, “since it’s Catholic, and also since they’re lazy, only want a married couple so that they don’t have to have anyone watching to make sure the teachers aren’t having sex with the students. Or each other.”

Anne blinks. “But we’re not married!”

Gilbert grimaces, opening his mouth, but then just biting his lip. They could be, Anne thinks, only a tad hysterical. Only all of Avonlea was matching them up all the years of high school, and even the years after until she’d met Roy. It would be so easy to get a certificate. They could get a divorce by September, even annul their marriage since they definitely wouldn’t be having sex.

Twenty thousand dollars.

“So what you’re saying,” Anne says slowly, her lip curling of its own accord “is that after all that talk about what love is and isn’t, and telling me that I shouldn’t marry Roy for the money he’d give me, your blockheaded solution is instead, for me to marry you?”

Gilbert looks up. “Well when you put it that way--” Anne sees red, even as she already sees herself in one of her old white lace dresses, standing with Gilbert at the courtroom and signing. “Gilbert Blythe I don’t believe you! Sometimes, I think that you really do have all the emotional capacity of that slate I broke over your head!”

“I know,” he says tone heavy with something so sad that Anne’s hearten softens a bit of its own accord. “But you really need the money, and I promise we’ll get a divorce by September.” He smiles, but there’s something bitter at the corners that Anne has never seen before -- she almost raises her hand to rub the strand of emotion off his lips. “And you’re not the only one who needs the money. Will you do it?”

Twenty thousand dollars. The farm, Marilla, an end to the eternal pity of Avonlea. And also, a small part of her suggests, an opportunity to finally spend time with this new Gilbert Blythe who went off into the world and left her behind.

She sighs. “I vote that you be the one to tell Mrs. Lynde.”

#obviously gilbert's been in love with anne this whole time #not in a really creepy way just a realization that no one he meets compares #a gentle longing for an unrequited love hes accustomed himself to #the salary is originally 10k each but he decides to give her his and cut a deal with the people to put it all in anne's name #which theyre fine with bc theyre married and hes like oh the debts we have are in her name lol #in this au since he didnt give up the school for her this salary thing is probably that equivalent?#anyways anne and gilbert fall in love while teaching annoying rich kids who get a transformative summer that helps them become good people #they reconnect talk about their past their present their futrue #fall in love thinking the other one could never feel the same #good stuff #aogg #anne of green gables #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #maya writes

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bloojayoolie · 5 years

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Advice, Alive, and Being Alone: NSFW This is the start of a beautiful thing. Say something nice, or share a cat fact. Today happy_cat7 2:32 AM Bro, your comment on that girl's post about being single is unacceptable. First of all, being alone is on you. Your attitude got you there. Second, how does having autism make girls not as good as "being normal". That's the "best" you can get? Not even that man. Because we're smart enough to know to stay away from guys like you. People with autism don't use either. You know why? Because we're socially awkward, which is perfectly fine, and we're smart. Only people who were raised improperly will use people, and that has nothing to do with autism. You need to snap back to reality. people 2:39 AM NSFW Heya. You might be right and i really might have a shirty opinion, but just because you have moral highground and all the right reasons to call me out for my faulty reasoning does not mean i can simoly 'get my shit together' with waving a magical wand or such. The socially isolating and introvertly shy lifestyle on top of being just average has not done me much good when it comes to having a girl or relationships at all. Sure i might have a because of that and not have best reasoning but then what? not being able or allowed to even express my feelings even if they are ones? To just shut the fuck up and just 'BE' something that i an not in 0.5 seconds? shirty outlook on life faukty Goddamn typos... happy_cat7 2:43 AM Maybe you should actually try to understand them? I mean seriously, communication is key bro 2:43 AM NSFW Understand who? happy_cat7 2:45 AM People. People with autism or just people in general $2:46 AM NSFW I might be on a spectrum myself and it probably sounded way wrong as what i intended it to sound like so ifet why you got so ypset Ffffd And even when you are my faults, i dont mind. but giving superficial, shallow and just bad advice is not so cool though right to call me out on happy_cat7 2:49 AM Yeah, well I get pretty defensive sometimes when it comes to people with autism, because we seriously don't deserve to be treated so poorly ya know? And there's literally nothing wrong with us, our brains just function a little differently. So when people talk badly to or about autistic people I get mad 2:51 AM NSFW An average guy who might as well be autistic and is inteoverted as fuck...without a single relationships ever in his life....the best u can do is 'try to understand leople in general? gee thant helps, and i do realize how aggressive and cold i sound, it is voice of desperation and desair talking... Despair happy_cat7 2:55 AM Well what I'm trying to say is communication is key. I know it's not easy to understand people sometimes, and being introverted makes communication hard. I already know that. That's been my whole life. But I've always tried to push past it. It also helps if the person you're talking to isn't a jerk and actually tries to understand that you have trouble communicating (I've had that happen to me, a "friend" called it an excuse. We're not friends anymore) 3:09 AM NSFW Well, thanks for calling me out on my bullshit, i was wrong to write whatever was on my mind without thinking any of it over, my bad. But i'm fucked as i was and i know i am empathetic, kind and mean well in my daily life, but that constant inability to create relationships/friendships in my daily life has pushed me into a state of despair the anger and rage is clawing out from deep within as i lash out at people who have done me no wrong. Isolation and inteoversion is not a simple lifestyle change on a something that i am not and if i tried i'd be fake as fuck and could not live with myself, so i remain timid and awkward, confidence and self-esteem is not found in a pack of pringles neetly stacked and ready to be indigested for success. It feels like peasent farmer person without education and manners of a noble to flip of a switch. I can be just start acting like one. It is hard to just live life on daily basis with knowing that it will not really get all that better. Isolation and lack of empathic friends is killing will to live quite fast. And i am one of a insane number of guys like me, there are soothe the pain of it yet i take none of it, no drugs, alchohol or cigaretes or anything like |that, i eat healthy and work out, i help my family out and keep it cool with them. But alart from that i ama broken person who feels pain of being alive being alive alone without a friendly soul to just be there for me from time to time. plenty of bad habbits to turn to to You are female and by reading this you know and think that there is no way in hell that you'd be around a lerson like me wven just for support. Who likes weak men...but should they all just up and off themselves? To change there needs to be massive pull |towards something, will to live and achieve something, but what about those whose will has been stomped, abused and rejected in childhoods, for those who grow up broken and without guidance? Does taking random happy pill advice help such people? Zombie pills or forever-sleep injections for the unworthy i dunno, all i can say is that it feels soul crushing. Well fuck, you likely don't care for any of it and i am just bothering you, if you read this far then i'm sorry for consuming your resources ar ruining you mood, go be happy and free like a cute little girl you are. happy_cat7 3:20 AM Hey man don't talk down to me like that, I'm trying to sleep. Yeah I'm human I sleep. I guess I was wrong about your change of attitude, the second you don't get attention you talk to me like I'm 4'3 and still drink from a sippy cup. Piss off Message Daggerforce ur/ He said crap about autistic people. I thought he changed his attitude.. Nope. Threw a pity party, when he didn't get the attention he wanted he talked down to me

#funny #lol #humor #memes #meme #memehumor #dank memes #funny pics #rolf #lmao #Advice #Alive #and Be

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sixcastappreciation · 5 years

Text

sixcago gave me my gay rights

alternative title: review of the evening sixcago show on july third

this is like almost 4k and its mostly just rambling but i need to express how much i love sixcago

like at least half of this is just me being gay so i bolded some of the things that i found really interesting and isnt just me like, freaking out

so to start off: holy shit. the energy of the entire show was amazing, it was really funny and fun and the acting/dancing/singing was on point like i cant think of a single complaint on the part of any of them.

so to get into the actual show

ex wives

when the curtain came up and the smoke started pouring out i actually felt my soul leave my body it was such a good moment

less than thirty seconds in brittney mack made eye contact with me and i swear to god my heart stopped and i honestly had trouble focusing on the rest of the song

i am not exaggerating that is the whole truth and nothing but the truth

shes............. literally so good im still shaking as i write this like three hours later

the third repetition of the rhyme where they all sound kinda pissed off? they nailed that

adrianna was so cute when she said “you wont try that again”

andrea holy shit. thats really a wrap on that

abby got that like, kinda head in the clouds thing that i feel like is janes Brand during this part

when he saw my portrait he was like JaaAAaaa

i love brittney mack

courtney knew what she was doing with that prick line. get it girl

anna has the most angelic voice i swear to god

the six of them work really well together on stage???? like i know its all choreo and stuff but you could Feel the energy that they had together it was good

oh man the choreo for the end. im so gay

intro thingy:

adrianna with that riff!!!!! we stan

annas face after “herstory” was iconic. she knew what she had done wrong

you couldnt hear the intro for maggie bc people were cheering so loud

the way adrianna says maria made me gay

abby also knows what she had to say. she knows how cursed janes sense of humor is and she was really playing it up

protestent............ protestant

“we’ll tell you what you want what you really really want” this made me laugh so hard i dont rly remember the next like thirty seconds because i was dying

“the biggest.... the firmest......... the fullest..............” im. i cant

no way

“maria” AGAIN adrianna please. please i cant handle it

“OH muy bien aHHah” not to be Lesbian On Main but fuck this was so cute

her emotion during the monologue was SO funny

it was peak, it was so good

she really gets it. i dont totally know what it is but this aragon monologue gets it

when she said “really trying” she did like, a motion. i cant go into more detail but Fuck

so after “move me into a convent” everyone like, gathered around aragon and adrianna did a

well idk what youd call it but a like

her entire torso swung around in a huge circle right before “i dont think i’d look that good in a wimple”

and idk what it was but that part just made me Lose It

adrianna had this way of making it all a little funnier?

like catherine is usually pretty Serious, i think but it felt like adrianna knew she was playing a character who was Like That, if you will, and was kinda leaning into breaking the fourth wall a little

i can probably elaborate if that doesnt make sense

you say its a pity cos quoting leviticus ill end up kiddiless all my life

she said that with such conviction goddamn

oh, he doesnt remember

this was so good

the “sh-”s were really funny

the fucking. i dont know what it is but the *ting*

holy shit

i cant put into words

how much i loved that part

the pause after “i’ll go” was............ expansive

i just checked it was 10 whole seconds

that doesnt sound long but it felt like forever

she went high on “end of my life” and thank u for mine adrianna hicks

the amount of no’s was impressive and im heart eyes for it

adrianna just had really good stage presence

like i caught myself looking at her during the dance breaks of all the songs when i wasnt looking at brittney

it was just so fun to watch her go!

dluh

during the intro of like “yeah, you know, the really important one” andrea was doing some Dumb Shit in the background

like i dont know exactly what it was but she was just like

idk like noodling around in the back

and i caught her eye and she like, smiled a little

the gasps the rest of them did were....... cute

then andrea busted out a full on fucking witches cackle

then she stuck her tongue out and looked like she was taking a selfie and it was so cute

like, her tongue was OUT

“not my thing” had the BIGGEST uwu energy of anything ive ever heard

i thought people were kidding when they said andrea boleyn had uwu energy

they were not

pret a manger barely came across as a real line it was more like, an experience

the sorry not sorry choreo. its so funny and cute and simultaneously cursed

the way andrea delivered her lines here was just

it was like, cutesy and fun but also kind of cursed

uwu

when she said “are you blind” andrea like, gestured to herself, in a like “look how hot i am” kinda way

which might be the standard? either way it made me laugh a lot

don’t be bitter/cos im fitter was the only line in the entire production said with a british accent and it fucking slayed me on sight one hit ko

i actually like that they changed “mate, what was i meant to do” to “wait, what was i meant to do” because

it implies that anne had no other train of thought than the one she was on and thats very funny to me

i think it fits w andreas portrayal too

everyone was like, fake crying when anne fake walked down the aisle and it was really funny imo

and as soon as she got to the end anne like, turned, yk?

bro just shut up

the entire audience gasped after that

andrea had actual like, panic on her face

then she led into “i guess he just really liked my head”

and there was a beat after that, where everyone laughed

it was long enough that everyone got the joke

then she mimed the blow job

her riff on “hell”? iconic

“wait, didnt you actually die” no jane she was beheaded but she was fine

abby seymour said dumbass rights she has the Dumbest Bitch energy god

“catherine of aragon had tragically died” catch adrianna looking like, yeah it was so sad for me, how terrible, right?

then boleyn goes off

the. fury, passion, anger, zest, contained in andreas “MASSIVE-”

“over my dead body” andrea gave her this look like, youre damn right it will be

heart of stone

oof

okay so the monologue

oof

“i was lucky. okay, i was really lucky” o o f

“edwina” is still cursed tho

i dont know what it was about this. i dont know if it was abby, or the dialogue, or just it being live but

this made it clear that jane had been Through It

like, this monologue came across (to me at least) as unquestionably a “woman who was abused trying to justify it to herself” kind of situation

“and that’s not because i was scared,” she said, wearing an absolutely terrified expression

this is where she started tearing up i think

okay i gotta take a moment here because

abby was fully crying before the song even started

like somewhere about halfway through her monologue she started tearing up

i was looking for it specifically

i wrote this before the last part so see above

so by the first fucking like of hos you could hear her voice breaking

holy shit ms meuller what the fuck

im not kidding who gave her the right

at the stagedoor she said that after this she was like, “well thats it for my makeup” when someone complimented her song

she is crying. the first chorus and she is actively crying. in the breaks between her lyrics you can hear her crying

abby went high on a couple of notes in here

she riffed on “truthfully” and it was, wow

she didnt go for the whistle tones which was, honestly? the most relatable thing in this entire show

but a couple of the other notes she went high on and they were so killer

there was a second or two of pause after the end where everyone just, absorbed things before the applause

i have some questions for abby about this actually because i dont know if its just because the monologue was different than im used to but

i just want to know if abby meant to have everything come off like That but god

the mental gymnastics jane is doing here are so intense

this performance genuinely changed how i listen to hos forever

i dont think i can ever peacefully listen to this song again

this song gave me so many layered emotions thank u abby mueller

haus of holbein

hans................................. *holbein*

the chaos

i honestly barely remember most of it it was

i had no idea who to be looking at

but i remember it being beautiful

i dont have the words to express how

fucking funny it was

the accents were hilarious

like they werent great german accents, but that made it far better

they were leaning into the ridiculousness of it all

the way abby said “but we cannot guarantee that you’ll still walk at forty” had me on the ground

ive spent the last 24 hrs trying to figure out exactly why it was so funny and i think i got it

she dropped the german accent

and she straight up sounded like she was reading off the side effects of a pharmaceutical ad on tv

the freeze frame? legendary

anna and courtney (im pretty sure?) managed to look so genuinely offended that henry swiped left on them

your highness your highness your highness

god adrianna please

actually every h sound that came out of their mouths

but adrianna Got It

get down

oh god i gotta talk about “didnt live up to his expectations”

brittney like, half took off her jacket and gestured to her body and like, body rolled a bit and honestly? i was fucking dead

the sarcasm really jumped out here. brittney went off in the best way possible

she was fully fake sobbing right before “tragic”

fucking legend

brING me some pheasant!

the woof line is always a good moment but their facial expressions really made it work here

this song has the most outwardly complex choreo (ofc i cant speak to its actual difficulty) and every single one of them crushed it

brittney made eye contact w me again on “looking cute” and im deceased

oh god after “take my fur” she whispered “thank you. honestly” and gestured to herself again and like, i was dying

iirc brittney was like, skipping across the stage or something on “i look more rad” and snapped into position for “lutheranism”

we gotta take a moment to appreciate the operatic talent of that one “get down you dirty rascal” instead of the slo mo

like, ofc the slo mo is a good moment but

brittney went full opera and it was,

wow

shes got a voice on her holy shit

so much talent in such a tiny body

aCHYEAH

she picked the person sitting next to me to dance w her and

they did their cute little dance thing and then brittney gestured like, go sit down, and the person did, then stood back up and started dancing again

not like, in a bad way i dont think

it was super fuckin funny and after the song brittney was like “oh that was cute you think youre funny”

but i heard them talking at the stagedoor and like, brittney was chill it wasnt like a violation of anything

im not explaining it very well but it was really funny in person

everything about her on stage was just, so enrapturing

i dont have too many specific notes about this song because it would probably turn into just, me being gay, which is enough of this already

anyway! get down was good brittney mack is a stellar cleves

her fake crying is next level tho

the confrontation

boleyn, unprompted: i lost my head!

the beheaded cousins high fived after “nice neck” and like, stuck out their necks a bit it was so funny

seymours “i died”

we all know abby is gonna kill her line delivery

but GOD

and then after, she like, realized what she had said and struck a pose like, shit please still think im regal

the line itself was actually pretty, uhhhh, sad

theres something about boleyn roasting khoward in andreas voice

courtney with that “and your songs” had perfect timing

also “when will justice be SERVED” had such good punch to it

after she did that she like

rubbed her hand on janes face

and abby looked SO offended

theres something so, sincere about courtneys delivery of her roasts that i hadnt been getting and its SO much funnier to me

i forget exactly where but at some point boleyn aragon and howard were arguing

and in the background it really looked like seymour and cleves were having a normal conversation and i lost it like. they were just chattin

there were a couple moments of like, cleves and seymour interacting and it was interesting

aywd

courtney! mack! took! no! prisoners!

jesus christ

okay so i dont know if other howards do this or if it was just because i was seeing it live and up close and that made the difference but

for me the most compelling part of this howard was the fear

like yes there was the sadness/anger/etc like there was good emotion but

from the “he says we have a connection” re: henry, and then on, everything about courtneys body language just screamed that she was afraid

idk i might expand on this in a separate post because its a darker topic but yeah. holy shit that was emotional

not a single person clapped after the last line. they all waited until after “yeah, and then i was beheaded” before clapping

like the theater was dead silent. DEAD silent

it was like, so haunting because it was just courtney on stage at that point, with just the white spotlight on her, it was a Moment

im not sure i have the heart right now to get too deep into this

if it would be particularly interesting to anyone feel free to ask, im happy to get more into it but idk its just Emotional

actually this is already so long ima go for it

so on each “we have a connection” it was uhhhh parr and aragon (i think) who each put a hand on like, her clavicle

and for the first two verses she grabbed one of the hands and was like, flirty? ig

but on the one about henry seymour also put a hand around her waist and she like

she freaked out

and listening back to the audio i can

unpopular opinion perhaps but the actual emotion of her on stage didnt come thru in the audio

because it was so physical

like you could see how scared she was

which made it more relateable to me honestly

like she looked so so scared

it was heartbreaking

the confrontation part ii

oh BOOH OO MISTERESSES

“okay catherine, babes” is CUTE fight me

anna looked like, progressively more concerned as that beat went on, and then she just kinda like, deflated? it was really funny tbh

idk her parr feels Different than the parr im used to

during “oh im catherine parr i draw the line in arbitrary places” courtney was playing with her hair it was hashtag cute

BACKING VOCALS RIP CATHY PARR

idnyl

a cute little b flat major 7

yeah anna parr seems

hmm

she seems like she’s just, over henry

like from the start she just has no time for him

idk im Conceptualizing

anna uzele is

her voice is next level

she put survived in the “got married to the king became the one who survived” in air quotes which i think is an interesting note

anna got really physically into the “remember that...” bit of it and everyone in the back was also having a good time with it it was Good

andrea. she stuck her pointer finger between two of her other fingers on her other hand for the “my sixth finger” line and it was SO funny

khoward keeping aragon in line was

not the hot take i was expecting but nevertheless the one we deserved

both for “dissolution of the monasteries” and “well actually”

idk it was a cute character moment

one of *unsure, disgusted, vaguely annoyed* siiiIIIiix

abby was right in front of me and she looked SO uncomf

yeah, i read

iconique

andrea like, threw her head back for this line

the pause after “theres not much we can do about it now” is

painfully long and so so so funny

i was only really looking at brittney but she was like, arms down head up no body language it was SO funny

also her “yeah?” ended my life

she raised the mic up to her mouth while not moving an inch of the rest of her body

the part where they get all meta. has me dead

it was about halfway through this second part that i realized cleves had her coat back. i dont know when that happened. if anyone else knows when exactly anna of cleves gets her coat back after it gets taken off in get down please tell me. i genuinely want to know

this actually distracted me

i got vibes that they genuinely hated henry during this part

first off, mood

secondly, good

annas riffing. god.

she is so talented

dsfjksdf they all straight up left

six

the opening moment is really sweet and kinda funny

abby again killing it with janes cursed lines

courtney howard is actually so cute

when shes not being heartbreakingly sad that is

like her “bye!” was so cute

theyre all so supportive of each other its very cute

megasix

adrianna and abby both looked into my camera and like, i died

at the end anna and brittney were doing some dumb shit as they walked off stage and it was SO cute

after the show

i went to the stagedoor and it was a really fun experience! ive never done that before

it seemed like everyone was being pretty respectful and stuff, thank u six fans for being sane

i got four signatures on my program dklfjsldfjds

abby was such a sweetheart, we actually talked a tiny bit

i told her i loved her line delivery (because uhhhhhh i do) and she said that she tries to get in that comedic timing when she has Those Lines and like yeah

she was seriously the nicest

the ladies in waiting came out as well and everyone cheered for them and lets be real they DESERVE it

lemme sidebar here actually and talk about the ladies in waiting because

they killed it

bessie on the bass was living her best life at literally all times

brittney was also super sweet! i told her she had good energy (because uhhhhhh she does) and she was very nice about it!!!

i didnt really talk to anna or andrea but i got their signatures!

also speaking of my program im still losing my mind over “remembered for: headlessness” and “remembered for: staying alive”

thank u sixcago program

in conclusion! this was such a great+special experience!!! all of the actors were incredible, it was so wonderful

im also not claiming any of this stuff was unique to this performance or to sixcago in general this was just the stuff i noticed as i was watching it. if you clown on this post ill end u

#six the musical #sixcago #**#i typed up no way dluh idnyl and the after show part in a daze as soon as i got back #i got more of it filled in later and then i kinda lost steam #and im filling in the last bit almost a day later so yeah thats why some of its Like That #i ran out of energy for six/megasix but im not sure when ill get the energy so #and also this is Long as Fuck #and i have even more thoughts re: the cast and their portrayals #esp vs the west end cast portrayals

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honeymoon-changb · 6 years

Text

And I love you.

A Johnny scenario.

genre: fluff, i guess, failed attempt at comedy

A/N: idk why i’m putting this here lmao i’m not a legit author but yea i wrote this a whileeeee ago in notes on my phone and just found it again and decided to post it cuz i didn’t have the balls to share it before; it’s kinda cheesy but i guess i was feeling all fluffy about John ay also pls note English isn’t my native language so if you see any grammar errors etc - that’s why. Anyway, enjoy y’all (if anyone reads this at all lmao wishful thinking)

Haechan was sat cross-legged on the living room couch, a big Lion King mug in one of his hands (that’s Taeyong's latest purchase) and his phone in the other one. In sheer attempt to kill the boredom of the off-days, he boy was watching one YouTube video after another as he took loud sips of a warm beverage. Not a pleasant scene for those who get easily irritated by slurping or munching sounds, mukbang haters. You have just finished washing up after the downside of hot-cholocate drinking culture - which was the prepration process - and made your way to the living room, where honey-skinned boy was now joined by the roomies TY Track and the-1-and-only Johnny. You stood in the back, unnoticed, and listened.

"You made hot chocolate for yourself only?" the friendly giant said in a sulky tone.

"Y/N's the one who made it." Haechan replied, not even bothered to grace Johnny with his gaze.

"For you only? Y/N, since when is Haechan your favorite!?" Johhny screamed, not realizing how close you were. You coughed to get their attention, before opening your mouth.

"Huh, psh, pffft, my-my what? How dare you accuse me of favorism, I dOnT have a favorite?" you winked at Haechan, who, what a surprise!, was actually blessing you with his attention. In response to your purposefully over-the-top dramatic acting, Mr. John Seo played heartbroken.

"AH! I can't believe you. All these nice things you've said to me, they must have been lies, and I was but a fool who believed to be someone special in your life!" he cried out, almost literally.

"Oh, don't you call me a liar, now, mister!" you replied, waving your finger at the boy. "Look... if I was gonna make enough hot cocoa for y'all, we'd need a barrel of milk." you added, less dramatically, to actually make this conversation into something more than just jokes on jokes.

"I didn't even know we had cocoa powder?" Taeyong spoke, to whom you replied:

"You didn't. I got some on my way here."

"What for, if you're not gonna make any for us..." the tall jokester said, or rather spat under his breath as if he didn't really want you to hear. Oh, but you did. Before you could reply to this snarky remark, though, a wild Mark appeared, joining this pity party.

"It smells like heaven in here." he said, with the typical, cutesy Mark smile on his face.

"Must be the hot chocolate ONLY HAECHAN is drinking." Youngho, the saltiest child on earth, said.

"Yum, I'd love some hot cocoa." Mark said, unaware of how long this convesation has been going on and how annoyed, yet amused you were feeling, especially because of John's pricesless commentary. And he just had to go on.

"Ya, tell me about it, man..." he looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, hands placed on his chest and he really did look hurt, the little actor. "I just feel so saaaaaad... like there's a hole inside of me and hot chocolate is the only things that could ever glue the pieces my broken heart together." he cried out again.

"Oh, oh, I get that feeling, too." what came as surprise, Taeyong played along.

"Yeah, and it seems like only YOU have the power to heal us, to put us out of our misery, Y/N." Seo continued. Mark must have caught up on the game, as he joined in, saying

"Have mercy on us, Y/N!" You felt like you were going out of your mind, dealing with these whiny boys who were now all gathered around you, staring at you with big pouts on their pretty faces.

"Oh MY GOD, you guys are driving me insane!" you snapped, loudly laughing (and maybe lowkey dying inside). "Yes, fine, okay, AL-RIGH-TY-YO! I will fill your whiny asses with my heavenly hot-cocoa, but boy do I pray that it'll not only glue your bRoKeN piEcEs together, but your mouths as well." you shook your head left to right at them.

"THANK YOU" Johnny said, fake crying. You were almost convinced he’s about to fall to his knees and repeat himself, but luckily for eveyone witnessing, he didn’t. You shook your head at him even more intensely.

"On one... no... on two conditions, though." all three of them looked at you intrigued as to what they'd have to do to have you bless them with your original-family-recipe hot chocolate. "First, since you're all outta milk, you have to go get some at the store and by some I mean multiple boxes because there's so many of you all living under one roof, you damn plague..."

"Sounds fair." commented Mark.

"...and two..." you smirked. "...two, you have to praise and compliment me in 3... 2... 1... Go!" And the boys did as they were told, which made it quite difficult to actually make out what the sweet words were, even harder when Haechan joined in after you confirmed he could get more hot chocolate. But then everything went dead silent as Johnny's raised voice delivered these four words,

"and I love you."

It wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for the fact you two have never exchanged this confession before, as you were dealing with the friends-turned-lovers type of situation, never actually calling each other boyfriend or girlfriend, hell, never really discussing your feelings, just enjoying each other's company and all the benefits that came with it when different needs arose. The momentary silence contributed to the air becoming suffocatingly heavy with a mix of anxiety and a dash of awkwardness, as you were caught off guard with this sudden avowal of feelings, and the confessor himself appeared to be unsure. Not unsure of his feelings, as you would have thought, because it's not like you didn't care about one another in this way. He must have felt unsure of why these words rolled off his tongue in a middle of such commotion. He panicked and decided it was best to flight from the scene, and so he pretended to be called by Jaehyun. You decided to act as well, so you made the decision to get the milk in the supermarket yourself.

"Mark, Mark, let's go to 7-Eleven, the milk isn't gonna buy itself, now, is it?"

"Aye, sure." Mark replied hasily, stuck in fluster over this incident. He now was continuously wondering about all of this. He obviously wasn't with you guys all the time, so he didn't know whether you ever confessed before or what was truly going on between you - obviously, since you never talked about what you felt for each other with one another, why would you with other people. This was something no one could know but you, and the way things got so awkward just a minute ago enhanced his confusion. He wasn't sure if it was okay to talk about this or if you wanted anything but, so he kept quiet. But man, did you wish he'd start a conversation... This silence forced you to stay in your head, feeling a little panicky. You, too, felt unsure and uneasy at this moment. You surely cared about Johnny and spending time with him was truthfully you favorite way of pushing through one day after another, but love... has always been something that confused you a little, because what even is love? Too many people threw this word around like it was nothing, so how does one figure out whether it's something serious or something you can say just so lightheartedly like you’re talking about your favorite cereal? Your lifelong history of having a hard time trusting and opening up to people wasn't helping in this situation at all. And since Mark wasn't going to intiate the dialogue, you decided to do so, before you dig too deep into your anxious thoughts.

"What's your favorite music video you've done so far?" you asked to somehow break the silence, and by him raising his thin brows, you could tell he did not expect you to do so. He laughed, brushing his hair.

"Hm, that's a good question, why don't you answer it first so I can think of my answer."

"What's my favorite MV of NCT's?" you asked rhethorically, since you knew that's what he meant, so you proceeded to share the response before he even nodded in reassurence. "Gotta be the rough version of Limitless. I love the retro style too much, I love everything about it."

"Yeah, that's a good one!" he cheered. "Me, I think for now I'm gonna have to say "Boss" 'cause we got to go to Ukraine to film and that's a travel destination I never thought of visiting, but it was beautiful and so interesting."

"Ahh! I've watched the behind-the-scenes and, not gonna lie, I felt a little jealous. I love to travel." you responed.

"You do?" he continued, to which you nodded. "If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?" You squinted your eyes and held your fingers up to your chin, expressing you're thinking of an answer in movie-like manner.

"Right now, I'm feeling like... Hawaii." you finally said. He seemed so interested in your answer.

"Wah, it'd be so cool to go there some day."

"Yea, it's like a piece of paradise on Earth."

Unexpectedly, this converation initiated by you made the grocery shopping escapade the most pleasant one you've ever gone on, and Mark accompanied you even after you came back to the dorm and started making the crazy amounts of world's most comforting drink for the bunch of sulky idol kids you were so thankful to have become friends with. The living room was now filled with more members than before; sounds of a video game played by Yuta versus WinWin could be heard over a heated conversation happening between Doyoung and Jaehyun; Taeil sat alone at the dinner table, scrolling intensely on his phone; even Renjun and Chenle, who must've escaped the Dream dorm to hang out at their hyungs' place, were there, leaning over the couch behind Haechan who was still messing with his mobile; and Taeyong just joined, with a slightly-shocked expression on his face as he saw so many people gathered in one medium-sized living room. It’s like everyone was there... except for your Johnny - and that struck you with anxiety. Finishing your duty as the hot-chocolate-assosiation head chef, you poured the drink into all the cups you could find and with help of your convo-partner, served it to the others by placing it on the large dinner table and having Haechan shout "HOT CHOCO Y'ALL" as he saw you put the trace down. You went up to Taeyong to ask about Johnny jist to have him lead you to their shared bedroom, where you found the target sat on the bed, looking quite distressed.

"I made you an extra-large cup of hot cocoa so if you don't come out to join the party, it'll just turn into cold cocoa." you said with a smily expression. "And most likely end up being consumed by Haechan anyway." You made your boyfriend laugh for a second, but that quickly turned back to the colon-slash emoji expression. It was the image of someone who's seriously bothered by a mess of thoughts. And everyone knew what it was all about. He sighed before opening his mouth, letting a fistful of words hastily fall out.

"Look, I know it was so wrong or weird to say that, especially so randomly and under such circumstances and I don't even know why it came out of my mouth right then and there, and then I made it even worse by panicking and stupidly escaping, like what kind of pers-"

"And I love you, too." you cut him off, finally returning the confession. It took him by surprise, but it was a pleasant one, like when you r mum is the only person to call you on your birthday but then it turns out it’s because your friends were busy throwing you a secret birthday part. And you didn't just say those words because you felt you were compelled to do so. You meant it, as you figured it out just two minutes ago, when you stood in that room filled with too many people you dearly care about and yet felt some sort of emptiness, because he wasn't there. He appeared to be at a loss of words, which was a rare occurence for Johnny Seo. He was just smiling, looking at you, and you felt so sure now, you were in love."I always felt nervous when we kissed on those days where I'd think too much about the meaning of love, or what it should be like, what the movies and books have taught me, and how maybe I'd never be ready to open up, be this or be that, how I may ruin it all one day, this friendship, because I was careless enough to let myself cross this line and engage in romance. You see, I've never been with anyone before and it's not like I never had the chance to date, it's that I convinced myself it's better to be alone, because being with somebody is too hard, too risky, too complicated and I hated the idea of that... but it isn't like that at all with you. It's just so easy with you, on those days where I don't let my thoughts enhance the fire that lits up my anxiety, on those days where we just kiss through smiles and I feel the goddamn butterflies, it just feels so right. You and I, it feels so right, and I figured that it could be like that on all days, if I just let myself go, and it's so hard because I like control and I wired myself to believe I'm better off alone because that way I can't end up getting hurt, but for you I'd try and for you I'd take the risk. And now I realize that all of these things mean I'm, in fact, in love with you, and I love you." The raw monologue turned out better than you thought, almost free of stumbling on your own words. He listened to you so intensely through all these words, watching your lips move and your eyes wander. Without responding, he got off the bed, stood up and slowly walked up to you, gazing into your eyes for what seemed like too-long of a moment, before he finally spoke, now with calmness in his voice. No more awkward rambling.

"The only time or reason I ever felt nervous was not knowing if you feel the same way. But now I do. I always felt at ease with you, it is just so right, like you said, I just feel so happy when I'm around you and these days I'm happy a lot with the life I'm lucky to be living, but you are a different kind of happiness... and that's how I knew. And, so, I love you." Now you were the one who couldn't say anything. Your gut was burning up and a shaky smile was glued on your face."Oh, and also, when I'm horny, I can't think about anyone else but you anymore." he added and you burst out laughing, him alike.

"Couldn't let this scene be all-too-serious, could you." you laughed.

"Nope." he said, with a goofy smile on his lips.

"Well, I think all that needed to be said, was, and I don't wanna rush things... but there's luke-warm cocoa to be drank..." you joked, too, making him laugh once again. The abolute U-turn this conversation took was just the perfectly accurate image of your relationship - almost never too serious despite serious feelings."I swear, if Haechan drank it, I'm gonna beat his shawty ass." you added as you turned around to open the door and make your way to the busy room.

"Babe, I think you're shorter than him."

"No, the proper response is 'Of course I'll help you beat his shawty ass up, babe'" you sassed as a reply.

"Sorry, I'll note it down and do better next time, mademoiselle."

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stevevans · 6 years

Text

It’s Okay

Peter Parker x Reader

Category: Angst my mans

Warnings: I DONT WANNA SPOIL but, blood, sadness, all the angst packaging

Word Count: 1.6 k

Requests are OPEN

“It’s okay” you giggled, staring at your best friend who had accidentally spilled flour everywhere, (seriously it looked like a bag of flour was murdered) grins occupying both of your faces. You two were just trying to make cupcakes for Ned’s birthday, even though his favourite flavour was lemon, and well it wasn’t going as planned. There was flour everywhere, sugar spilled on the floor and probably an egg in your hair. Even though you both looked like a mess, you mentally took a screenshot, deciding you liked moments like these with Peter.

“It’s okay.” you shrugged realizing you forgot to pack pajamas for your weekly spend the night party, but Peter insisted “I can’t let you sleep in those uncomfortable clothes, please just take it.” that you borrow his clothes, a spiderman shirt (ironic right?) and some boxer shorts. You quickly changed, fumbling a bit in the tiny bathroom, but when you came out you could have sworn you saw adoration and maybe even love also him being super turned on by you in his clothes glaze over in his eyes, but it was short as he quickly cleared his throat mumbling how you looked good then insisting that you both watched Star Wars, you never gave him back those clothes, and he never asked for them back.

“It’s okay!” you insisted as he asked if he could ditch you and take Liz Allen to homecoming instead. You nodded a lump forming in your throat trying to hold back tears, though of course, he couldn’t see you. “Are you sure?” he spoke worriedly, not wanting to hurt you. “Of course, you’ve liked her for like forever, and you would do the same thing for me.” After cheering and thanking you a million times over, he hung up and you felt pain tugging at your heartstrings, turning to MJ and seeing a sincere look on her face.

“It’s okay.” you sighed, hands intertwined as he leaned on your shoulder, sobbing as you both sat at his parent’s grave. There, of course, weren’t bodies buried since it was a plane crash, but it was where they rested, and you both went every other week to visit them, talk to them and bring flowers. You took pink roses, meaning a gratitude, a thankfulness. You were thankful they gave you Peter, and he was thankful that he couldn’t remember their death vividly, not like he could Ben’s. He felt bad, but of course, you didn’t know, the ‘Stark’ Internship had been taking up his time so you went unaccompanied to the graves nowadays. You two weren’t gone until it was dark, the sun receding from the Queen’s skyline creating a beautiful mesh of pastel colours.

“It’s okay” you mumbled as Peter hastened to get up from his seat in the library to ditch your study sessions again. You were both taking the ACT in a week and promised to study seeing as Ned and MJ already paired up (they really ship you two ok, don’t blame them) leaving you and Peter to study. “I’m so sorry Y/N, we can study tomorrow? It is just really important.”. Of course, it was you scoffed to yourself, Tony Stark had Peter more whipped than you were for him and he didn’t even realize it. You waited for him the next day, for five hours, the pitying looks you got from the librarians making you want to curl up into a ball and disappear. You were there until the library was closed, and then you were home, tears stained on your cheeks as your phone rung out once, ‘’sorry, w/ stark.’

“It’s okay.” you winced, a hand covered in blood, placed over your stomach. You coughed, feeling dizzy, the streetlights looking like stars all blurred out, beautiful stars you thought, not as beautiful as the boy hovering above you though. It took you dying for Peter Parker to pay attention. He had you cradled in his arms, pressing you against his warm suit. The first words when his mask came off being, “By internship you meant being Spiderman.” Tears were running down his face and you shook your head, a bloodied and broken hand coming to wipe them away, caressing his soft skin. “No tears to cry for the dead Parker.” He angrily shook his head, he was Spiderman, he saved people, he was going to save you, but here he was letting the love of his life die. Your breathing became more shallow as time passed, blood filling up your lungs as the light started to fade from your eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you were supposed to date and go to University, get married, he would be Spiderman and get some fancy job and you would get a dog, have kids with your dopey grin and his soft eyes, grow old and walk the streets of Queens until you both were so old all you could do is watch it from your small house. Peter had enough loss to last multiple lifetimes, but death is a cruel mistress and she never has taken prisoners. It was a dumb incident, you were at the wrong place, the wrong time. He was so focused on saving that man from falling glass that he hadn’t gotten to you in time, at least not until you were lying on the ground, a shard of glass sticking through your side. If he could he would go back and save you, he’d kill everyone to go back and save you. Peter started to speak, his lips wet with tears, his breathing ragged as he tried to talk, feeling as if water was encasing his lungs, making it impossible to do anything but choke on his words. You interrupted him, voice soft like it was muffled and far off. “I love you, I’m in love with you, and I know you don’t feel the same, but you have to know. I love you Peter Parker.” you paused, trying to get enough breath to speak what your heart wanted to say, “I kn-I know I’m not the love of your life, but you were mine, so thank you.” He opened his mouth to correct you and tell you not to say were, to tell you how much he loved you, how he loved you at three am while going on doppily about the solar system, when you had bags under your eyes from studying so much, with snowflakes on the tip of your nose and your cheeks red from the cold, when you had a headset and braided pigtails with scratchy turtlenecks, when you were six and you cried because he pushed you off of the swingset, every time he saw disappointment in your eyes when he had to leave to save the day, everytime he would look over at you during movie nights and realized he wanted to spend his life with you, even when he saw you standing at homecoming all alone as MJ and Ned argued, wanting to run over and ask you to dance, not noticing liz anymore, when you were coughing up blood, eyes glazed over with tears as you looked into his eyes, shaky breaths, terrified but refusing to let him know. “I..” he had no idea of what to say, anything he wanted to say is longer than you had. He was frantic, panicking, trying to hear any noise that remotely sounded like an ambulance, but he could only hear your heart slow it's beating and his starting to break. In his franticness he failed to realize your hand falling from his tear covered face, dropping to the ground in a puddle of your own blood. That final sound was deafening, your choked breath in, the soft letting go of your final breath, as if you were finally free. Peter wanted to scream, anger and sadness bubbling up in his throat, but he couldn’t move, paralyzed at the moment.

“It’s okay,” he said only to himself, walking up to a grave. It was new, the cobblestone shiny and smooth, unlike the ones around it, dull, weeds growing over them, the grass unkempt. The thorns from the bouquet he brought digging into his calloused skin as he squeezed tightly, trying to keep the tears from falling. Peter Parker never forgot that fateful day, it replayed in his head every second, he never said it back. He never got to tell you how much he loved you, how much you meant to him, and that is something he would never forgive himself for. He always thought the worst part about losing someone you love was the day you lost them, but it was what happened after when he kept living and you didn’t. He ran his free hand through his hair, crouching down to run his shaking fingers over the writing engraved on the tombstone,

“Y/N M/N L/N, in loving memory, a wonderful daughter, friend, and person.”, he bit down harshly on his lip to kept the tears at bay, placing the bouquet of pink roses on your gravestone. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay buddy.” He chuckled, placing a hand on the small girl’s back. She was wearing her Spiderman costume, about to fight the bad guy for Spiderman since he hadn’t been seen in months, at least not until now. Her Father crying and screaming begging someone to grab his daughter. Peter quickly carried her back to him thanking her for being Spiderman but she should take a day off as to not worry her father. She reminded him of someone he loves. He turned away from the small girl, facing the monster trying to attack his city.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #avengers imagine #angst fic #rlly sad #penis parker x reader #infinity war imagine #lydia wirtting tag #lydia writes peter

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tickle-me-stoked · 6 years

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Sanders Sides - Happy Birthday, Roman

A/N: WHOOT what better way to start out on tumblr than with a bad fan fiction that’s probably my best, sad as it is. This is about Romans birthday, which was today, my sweet baby boi. Anyways, please enjoy if you can, I tried.

Word count: 2497

Summary: Roman feels alone on his big day; ‘cognitive distorntions’, or no. (wow I’m awful at summaries I’m so sorry)

Warnings: self-deprication, cognitive distortions, sadness, bad English and writing skillz.

If ive forgotten ANYTHING please lemme know!

I’ll definitely add a taglist if anyone wants to be in it! I love everyone, all of you are beautiful.

AAAHHHHH IM TERRIFIED PLS DONT KILL ME

——

Roman wiped his eye. Yes, he was crying. He could admit to that. But wouldn't you? He'd gone all day, sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for whatever he had hoped the other sides had in store for him. He waited all day for anything, whether it be a celebration, a present, or something as simple as a hug.

He didn't. Nothing happened today. From the moment the clock struck midnight last night, to now, where midnight was right around the corner, he waited. He was silent about it. He hadn't wanted to speak up or ask in fear of ruining something. Maybe it was surprise, so if he asked about it, surely Patton would break or something else would give it away. He didn't want to take that risk. But now, he sees that maybe...

Maybe he had nothing to loose.

It was his birthday. And here he was; sitting alone, crying, lost in his thoughts of whether or not he was truly loved, whether he actually meant something.

He wiped his eyes again. Teeth clenched, he went and pulled on his hair. He couldn't sob. Crying... crying was fine... right? But a sob would disturb the others. He wouldn't mind if someone, preferably Patton, came down and found him. If it was out of pity... he'd take it. At least with pity, they still cared enough to acknowledge him. Whereas silence just said that they didn't care. At all.

A happy birthday. He'd gotten words, a simple 'happy birthday' from the other three sides. But after that, it was as if nothing was different. Was a birthday not a celebration? Was a birthday not important? Had this day not happened, Roman wouldn't be here. Everything would be different.

But instead, everything is exactly the same. Nothing changed. The only difference is the love he feels. The love that is slipping away, as if it was never there to begin with. He loved his friends, loved them, but they obviously didn't feel the same. Clearly, he didn't mean as much to them as they did to him.

But that was okay.... Or it should be. It is, but it hurts too much to feel right. He'll still take care of his friends, he'll always be there for him. But they won't be there for him. Is that fair? Is that right?

Roman ran his hands over his face. His hands came back drenched in tears. He stared at the water as it ran down his palms.

What now? Does he just act as if this never happened? Should he say something about all this? He wouldn't want to be a disturbance... but...

Who was he kidding? That's the exact reason they don't like him, isn't it? He can't just go ahead and make things worse. Then he'd truly be outcasted.

Whatever. If they don't care that-that's fine. He'll get over it. He has to.

Roman sniffed once, then rose to his feet. He hesitated, wondering if he had the strength to walk the stairs, then pushed forward anyways, knowing his bed was up there.

Before he could make it passed the coffee table, he heard his name.

“Roman!” He looked up and found Patton barreling down the stairs. He slammed into him, wrapping him up in a hug which, surprisingly, took Roman off the ground. “Oh, sweetheart!” Patton placed him down and backed up to look him in the eyes. “Oh, were you crying? What’s the matter, Ro? What’s wrong?” Roman quickly threw his arm up to wipe away the tears. Now that the moment struck, he was twice as sure he shouldn’t lay his problems out. But having Patton here, staring at him with those big, worry-filled eyes, it practically pulled the words out of him.

“I-I’m sorry, Patton. I didn’t want to be a burden, um-“

“No!” Patton yelled. Roman stared in shock. He’d barely gotten to say anything, now Patton was what, mad? Roman figures he’d have every right to be upset, but he hadn’t even said anything yet. “I will not have you insult yourself like that.” Hold on. What? Patton was mad because... Roman thought of himself as a burden. That was very Patton-like, but that was the reaction he often gave to Virgil. He never seemed so upset when he’d said it before. Now, he was practically fuming. The rage in his eyes — what was going on? “This is your day, dedicated completely and entirely to you! On this day is the day where you, Roman, our faithful prince and trustworthy hero, are the world. You’re the center if the universe today, Roman. Everyday actually, but especially today! You have no right to say that about yourself.” Roman couldn’t believe it.

He was crying again. Why was he crying? Because Patton hated him? No. Because Patton was mad at him? Yes. But the reason behind Patton’s anger was that he loved him. Patton was upset that Roman had thought so little of himself. Why should he feel that way? All of the amazing people in his life, people who hardly had the potential to hate to begin with. They loved him. Patton proved it.

Or at least... Patton loved him. The others, Logan and Virgil, did they? Or were they gonna yell at him later. Were they going to yell at him for crying about his birthday? Were they going to yell at him because he’d upset Patton.

Oh no, he upset Patton. What had he done? This was exactly why they shouldn’t care. He hurt their beloved Patton. Nothing can make up for that.

Except for this. A hug. Patton pulled him into another hug. He held him tight, but comfortably so. Slowly, Roman let himself fall into the security of Patton’s embrace. He rested his head on his shoulder and held on tight right back.

“Everything and anything you feel is valid. Never assume we won’t want to help you in any way we can. It’s the least we can do for everything you’ve done for us.” Romans eyes shot open, his muscles tensing. He threw himself back from Patton’s and stared into his eyes, searching for any signs of lies or miscommunication.

“What could I have possibly done?” He wonders in awe. Patton smiled softly. He slowly reinitiates the hug, holding gently to Romans frame.

“For one, you’re a great hugger.” He mumbled. Roman couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his lips as he returned the gesture contently. “But you always had this spark.” A spark? “Whenever you’re passion shines through, which is a lot more than you would think,” he said with a laugh. “It makes us smile. We can see how happy you truly are, the genuine emotion in your eyes as you speak. It makes us so happy!” Roman moves his eyes downward and smiled. Did they all think that? Did they actually think that his passion was endearing? “You always make sure we’ve got a smile in our face. Whenever one of us feels down, you work your absolute hardest to turn that frown upside down. And it always works!” Thinking about it, he doesn’t recall a moment where it had failed. Everyone has their bad days, but he was always able to get a smile from them, even at their worst. “You’re silly, rambunctious, energetic, and pure sunshine.” Roman, although his smile didn’t dissipate, sighed sadly.

“You’re talking about yourself, Pat...” Patton softly shook his head, his body swaying along.

“I don’t think I am. Ro, you wear the brightest of smiles, you have the strongest of hearts, (have I mentioned great hugs?) and the most love to give. Without you, Roman...” Roman could feel the smile drop from Patton’s lips, causing his own to fall. “I don’t know where we’d be...” Roman backed up. He looked calmly at Patton. He took note of every detail on his face. Physical, and the meaning behind them. How his small smile lit up his hoping eyes. How his cheeks had little dimples and a flooring of freckles beneath the pink tint of his precious face.

“Patton...” What can he say? Everything that Patton said hit him hard. He hadn’t believed any of that in what felt like years. Patton’s choice of words couldn’t have been more perfect. No set of words coming from any other mouth could’ve made him feel more alive than his beautiful Patton’s. Birthday forgotten, Roman spoke what the only words he was able to think of. “Thank you.” Patton’s little giggle warmed his heart.

“You don't need to thank me, Roman. Everyone knows the kind of star you are. And you are the brightest one in the sky.” Roman raised an eyebrow. Brightest in the sky?

“Are you sure you’re not talking about the moon?” Patton laughed wholeheartedly, earning his own from Roman. He returned into the hug, for yet another short moment.

“If that makes you feel better, then yes.”

“Anything from you is perfect, my dearest Patton.” Patton giggled again.

“There’s another one. All the cleverly thought out nicknames you give us.”

“Oh, come on, that one could’ve been better. It’d help if I wasn’t so tongue-tied thanks to you.”

“Are you complaining?”

“In a way, I suppose.“ Patton poked his pouted lip and the two shared a laugh again.

“Anyway, we should get to bed, huh?” Roman frowned slightly. After all this, finally beginning to feel better, they had to part.

“I uh,” However, he knew what Patton had said. And of course, he trusted him completely, but a small part of his mind warned him to not overstep his boundaries, in case he did become too much. “I guess. Yeah.” Patton could sense the unease in his voice. The little smile said it all. He took Romans hand and lead him calmly up the stairs.

Although, Roman raised an eyebrow as Patton reached for his door. Why was he going into his room? Why not his own? Does he want to tuck him in or something fatherly like that?

The moment Patton walked into the door, Roman right behind him, the lights flicked on.

Inside the room was the most miraculous sight his eyes had ever seen.

Balloons littered the floor and the ceiling. There were streamers perfectly parted at the ceiling light and attaching back by the walls. The light itself was tinted. Not a specific colour, but with glitter, making the room seem to sparkle. A large cake sat with candles — many candles — on top. The cake itself was huge. It was like a wedding cake, but for a birthday. Around it was an array of different beverages and candies. Of course, there was a palate of veggies too, seeing as how no one could resist those. Then there were the two large speakers on either side of his bed, tall enough to match the height of his bed posts. But the best part was Logan and Virgil.

The two of them had party hats on their heads. They stood in the center of the room, underneath a banner that was hand-painted to say ‘Happy Birthday, Roman’. He could tell by the print who wrote what and who drew what. Logan and Virgil both had genuine smiles on their faces after they had shouted ‘surprise’.

There was a surprise party. He hadn’t ruined anything? All this time, he thought he’d messed everything up, destroyed everything he thought he had. And why? Because he hadn’t gotten a party? These foolish, stupid ideas had invaded his mind so much that he couldn’t see the love in his friends eyes.

But these boys, these three beautiful men, had done the most wonderful thing and thrown him an entire surprise party. He could see the piling up if presents behind the left brained sides.

He hadn’t noticed his tears until he felt his legs give way. Patton had barely managed to catch him, but did as they settled softly on the ground. He blinked the tears down his cheeks and saw the other two racing over.

“Roman!” They cried. All of them had their hands on him, for reassurance and support and comfort. He wanted to hug them all, but his arms weren’t long enough. He settled on stealing himself and went to wipe his eyes, soaking his hands once again.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He spilled out with a small laugh. He sniffled, and smiled at the others.

“Ro, are you okay?” Virgil asked in a semi-panic. Roman nodded his head calmly and wiped some more tears.

“I’m great, Virge. It’s all thanks to you.” Virgil took a double take. Logan as well.

“So these were... ‘tears of joy’?” He wondered. He seemed almost afraid of assuming incorrectly. But Roman simply nodded again.

“Yes, I’m sorry for being such a mess, especially so consistently around you, Patton.” This time, Patton let him speak. Earlier he had stopped the bout of self-deprication and filled the blanks with compliments. He must’ve known that now it would lead into the source of the problems. “I guess I just got lost in the idea that... that it was selfish to want a birthday and that that was a reason toward why you’d hate me.” At the silence of the others, he conintued. “I know, it was stupid, but it all just made me realize how lucky I truly am. What was selfish was thinking so illy of you three... and I’m sorry for that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Patton assured.

“It is completely understandable that lack of attention on such a special and momentous occasion would draw unpleasant thought processes to oneself. For that, we owe you an apology.”

“Yeah, we’re really sorry,” Virgil agreed. He and Logan had their heads ducked, looking guilty and depressed. “It was kind of our fault, to be honest. Lo and I just wanted things to be.. a little too perfect and... took longer than necessary.”

“Don’t bring yourselves down because of me.” Roman backfired. Honestly, with all the blaming, Roman found himself with an urge to laugh. “Because it was a surprise, I can see the kind of stress that would promote. That can be a lot resting on your shoulders. If anything, you two would be the most suitable for perfection.” This time he did laugh, mainly in hopes that they wouldn’t take offense, seeing as that was not his goal. They shared a glance at one another, and both shrugged, feeling awkward, yet knowing it was the truth. “But this... this is perfect. Thank you.” He pulled Patton into his left and Logan into his right, then dropped his head to rest against Virgil’s, whose hands held the formers mentioned.

“Don’t get tears on my pants, Princey.” The four laughed. Roman could barely recall any of the invasive thoughts he’d been having before. Just being in the mere presence of the ones he loves so much takes the pain away.

#roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #birthday #sanders sides #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #happy ending

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r0xelita · 6 years

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Lets talk about something super personal and important thing: EMOTIONAL LABOR

Since I have no one to talk about this issue and i often see how fixated society is about not opening up about mental illness because it is still seen as personal weakness I feel the NEED to share my thoughts on this topic and my personal experience with it. I am not seeking pity for my situation, I just want you to think about your own position towards emotional Labor and I BET many many many of you will probably relate to the things im going to say.

I hear it very oftenly that people envy me because of my lifestyle, because it seems to be so romantic and achievable: i do cool art stuff, i am a good dancer, i study at art school which seems chilling for many people, i love to powerlift, have good athletic skills, a unique style, a beautiful apartment, a sweet dog, many people view my look as desirable and many other stuff i hear. Yes, these things are strengths of mine, these are things that make me feel alive. I can take these compliments and i am happy that people love these things about me (except the fact how i look this is not a personal strenght or anything that makes someone worthy of love). ...

But the thruth is that these are things that only sound romantic in theory. I am not happy with my life. And i often hear that these things are reasons that I HAVE NO RIGHT to be unhappy because other people view them as positive. And here is the reason why i am constantly unhappy in my oh so pretty life: the amount of EMOTIONAL LABOR i am bringing up towards almost everyone in my life and how it slowly kills you when you dont stop it in time!!

I am happy to say that i am a (not yet fully) recovered grown up that is very aware of their actions and seeks constantly for self improvement, since i started therapy in 2008 i am very focused on my 'mental hygiene' and i am good at handeling myself with all my deficits and taking care of myself. Even though the emotional labor stuff is this one thing i think is super hard to handle because you somehow can not act as the FULLY grown up sometimes.

Every day is unbelievably EXHAUSTING. In many relationships (not only romantic) in my life i brought this HEAVY amount of emotional labour and not getting anything in return and just ending up being exhausted by starting the same conversations over and over again, taking responsibilites of other people because i was accepting the fact that they "couldnt do it", taking alot of damage because i confounded neglecting your own needs with "being emotional strong" and thinking that it somehow is your own fault rather than letting the other person to be held accountable of their own shit behaviour.

You can say it - on a psychoanalytic level- that it really is somehow my fault. It is scientifically proven that we always seek for partners or relationships that we think can solve our childhood trauma. I grew up under extremely chaotic circunstances without any stability in my life which heavily affected my mental health as a child and teenager. Due to emotional abuse, manipulation, violence and the fact that my feelings or just the way i am is not valid and always wrong i (just like every child that learns any concepts and behaviour to be accepted by their parents because its dependent on then) adapted everything i felt and did with the goal of being loved, valued and accepted.

(This is a very critical topic when your parents also suffer from mental illness, i do not want to speak of guilt and i do not want to call anyone out.)

So logically seeking for partners that somehow represent your parents to replay your childhood trauma with the hope of solving it, everyone does this, even the mentally healthy people and it is not always a negative thing. For me it was falling in love with way older men who seemed to be able to give me the fatherly validation that i was missing, but also ending up with men who are aggressive, shouting when theyre angry and letting me down. You seek for these things because these are the situations that you are used to and give you a kind of false comfort.

When i became aware of my problem and seeing my childish needs that were never fullfilled (and sadly developong a personality disorder because at one point you start feeling and acting like you learned it from your parents) I seeked therapy... and it helped me to turn into a well reflected, grown up responsible person. I am obsessed with improvement and my psychological knowledge is probably the most expanded thing about me lol. So i am sometimes a little bit too fixated about "doing the right things" and not letting my chilhood trauma to control my life anymore. But this is also a dangerous thing, as it collaborates with my childish concept that other peoples well being is more important than my own i somehow, like i said before, i felt like being emotionally developed and strong allows me to put up with problematic behaviour and seeing it as a kind of self validation, like being the one who is strong and has the capacity of helping people who are still struggling with their deficits.

But this is SO WRONG. Just because you are strong doesnt mean that your partner/family member/any person has to use your ressources without giving anything in return.

Just because the other person has misconceptions as a side effect of their trauma it gives them NO RIGHT to act their unreflected emotions out!!

YOU ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR OTHER PEOPLES BAD FEELINGS. YOU ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYONE FEELING "ATTACKED". THEY HAVE NO RIGHT TO ATTACK YOU JUST BECAUSE THEY FEEL ATTACKED.

THEY HAVE NO RIGHT TO ACT IT OUT JUST BECAUSE YOU TRIGGERED THEIR TRAUMA.

EVERYONE HOLDS THEIR OWN ACCOUNTABILITY OF HOW THEY FEEL AND ACT.

A PERSONS ABUSE DOES NOT JUSTIFY ABUSING YOU.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE TO TALK ABOUT YOUR NEEDS AND FEELINGS.

And so the roles reversed, i am unvoluntarily often in the role of the caretaker, the mother, the one who has to put away their problems. When i want to critzise someone i have to think about how other people will interpret my critique/problem according their own beliefs and traumata, most people will see it as you attacking them. But me not talking about my problems is not the right solution, it would put me in the same role as i was as a child. So the right way is to take your responsibility to talk about your needs and problems and setting limitations towards the person feeling attacked and the following abusive behaviour against you.

But why is this so hard for so many people? Think about your emotional labour you are bringing up to the table. Think about how many times the other person does not reflect their behaviour. Think about how you ALWAYS have to explain why something is wrong and literally have to play the therapist or mother just because they do not care about their emotional hygiene and they do not take the responsibility of their needy child inside of them. Think about how often you hear "I feel bad because YOU.../I am angry because YOU.../YOU are responsible for how i feel!". Thinking about all the times they are "sorry" but never make any serious attempt to change their situations and keep putting the responsibility for everything on you (and even keep justifying their actions/feelings)

Think about how much energy you spent to "make them feel better" until you realize that this is not your fucking job. Think about how many times you asked yourself if it maybe was your guilt? Think about how many of your expectations they meet, what you get in return? How many times did you think "I have to put up with this because i love this person/they are my family/etc." and you also keep justify their abuse, because you HAVE to be the wrong one? It will ALWAYS create an imbalance in a relationship and you will never be on the same eye level, which is the absolute basic thing any sort of relationship needs.

There is a huge stigma of being the one who acts wrong, so many people do absolutely not want to admit that they did anything bad or are in an abusers position. In my therapy i learned to have a healthy relationship to my mistakes, bad actions do not define me and i have enough self confidence to admit when i am wrong and i am reflected enough to be aware of taking responsibility of it. Thats how learning works. But back to the topic.

That means me putting up with this equals not taking care of my emotional wellbeing. That is my BIG mistake. Ive already lost alot because of my duty to take care of myself and speaking. For example the half of my family. This is a sad thing but i can live with it because i know i acted like a grown up and recognized their false (childish) behaviour. And then comes my emotional labour again: i want them to understand the situation, I HAD to explain that i am not personally attacking them, I wanted to make them feel better by forcing them to think about themselves. I was the one who reflected THEIR feelings.... and putting mine away. I stopped. This was not right. I had to leave them with their misconceptions. I had to leave them with their anger. They are responsible. And i am responsible for saving myself from behaviour like this. You cant be always the understanding person who puts up with everything. You can not achieve/force their understanding. Its not your problem. And not your fault.

(Believe it or not. It is also a misogynistic concept rooted in our society where the woman needs to put up with mens shit, childish behaviour is a thing that is accepted in men, almost expected, so many will not feel the need to think about themselves, seek therapy or seeing anything wrong in their behaviour. It also explains why most of straight couples are more like mother/son relationships because their (aware or not) inner child seeks for a second mother lmao. What i want to say: it is not an indivdual problem, rather a cultural/social one. )

I am still in relations such like that. How does my "romantic and achievable" life look like. It looks like lying in the bed. The whole day. I cannot move, i have zero energy. I have several somatic issues like chronic intestinal and stomach cramps, aching limbs, migraines, fatigue, i am literally never hungry because i am full of emotions that there is no room for food and when i force myself to eat i always have the feeling i need to throw up (not in relation to my bulimic past, its rather the cramps that cause this feeling), my skin is terrible because of my psoriasis which gets worse with every stressful event.

I do nothing. I cant finish my comic. I cant get myself together to make art. I barely response to messages. I often skip class. I have problems to handle a 3 peoples household on my own. I barely do things i enjoy. I isolate myself from people.

Not because i think thats right. I learned how to handle depression issues. But can you imagine how fucking big the impact of emotional labor can be, even on a person who is in good therapy for 10 years?

I try anything. I change my noutrishment, my environment, i pay for medicaments and try to fix these symptomps. But it wont help. You have to work on the root. Take care of yourself. Of YOUR emotional hygiene. Yes, help other people and be supportive but never never ever put yourself away to make others feel better. You can be a loving partner/son/daughter/friend/etc. and STILL take responsibility! You are not a rehabilitation center for other people.

Yes, it is hard to keep the balance. But you will figure it out and will grow!!!

#personal #emotional labor #emotional load #feminism #sexism #misogyny #psychology #bpd

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amourtaes-blog · 5 years

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love it if we made it

song choice - love it if we made it by The 1975

Kim Taehyung. The most beautiful man to ever roam this world, at least to me. Also goes by V, 1/7 of the K-pop boyband, BTS! Born in Daegu, South Korea on the 30th of December 1995 making him a Capricorn. Collector of ties and admirer of Sir Vincent Van Gogh. Known for his 4D personality and breathtakingly symmetrical face. A burning passion to act as he was in the drama, Hwarang. Parades around in Gucci but was brought up on a farm with his grandparents keeping him humble. Adores his parents and is a family man. Has the cutest boxy smile and adoring personality, he's kind and a great best friend according to Jimin. However, Jungkook says his personality is indescribable. He finds the moles that decorate his body interesting, even turning one into an elephant and likes to entertain whoever is around and himself by playing music and making a live music video. He is the social butterfly of the group, always making friends wherever he goes. He's innocent and playful, stubborn at times but deeply cares for everyone's well being. Quite frankly, he sounds perfect. This description right here isn't enough to give you even a rough idea of what he's like. I could go on for days talking about him but for now, this can do.

It's the 20th of July 2018, a Friday. A new "The 1975" song was released, Love It If We Made It. The first line clearly shocked me causing me to stop listening after a few more seconds, "Fucking in a car, shootin' heroin," I clearly wasn't expecting that. The rest of the day went by as a blur. I did the occasional housework and moped about, still feeling upset and drained from the past events of the week. I've been listening to Ariana Grande's new song, God Is A Woman, although I wasn't keen on the title I gave it a try and found myself addicted. It was quite a boring Friday, a long day of nothing specific. Nothing, in particular, roamed my brain apart from a growing sadness that I chose to ignore. Yet, the banging drums of the new The 1975 song rang through the back of my head. No matter what I did or heard, it was all I could hear so I decided to give it another try. Of course, yet again, I loved it The 1975 never disappoint me and I always find myself loving their new music. But this. This was special. I say this with all of their songs but currently, it felt like it touched my heart in places I wasn't aware of. The chorus grabbed at my heartstrings making me feel so deeply in love and straight away my mind went to him.

It kept me awake for most of the night, not once did I get bored of this song. It made me feel everything at once and I love songs like that. Songs that make me feel uneasy because it's not easy to describe how they make me feel. The song wasn't even about love, but the vibe and beat made me feel like I was gonna run away with the love of my life and watch the sunset. Till 4, the song was on repeat, full blast as I got lost into the depths of Tumblr, adoring and examining his face. Every second passed and I hoped that I could run away but with him, watching the sunset and not giving a care in the world. Just focusing on each other.

Just before the sun started rising I started to head to bed, hoping to put myself at peace even though every cell in my body was awake, buzzing at the beat of the song. Yearning to hear it for "just one more time" but a light wave of sleep sat on my eyes, Very light actually, hardly 2kg. I packed up and headed upstairs not bothering to wash my face as my body ached with pain and sadness, still I ignored it. Crying for hours 2 days beforehand was enough to drain my body of any emotion.

Laying in bed was torturous, especially since the arms that engulfed me once provided me with tranquility but now the owner of the arms sat on the center of my mind. Multiple attempts to get a few hours of deep, comfortable sleep fell through quickly as I tossed and turned, my mind racked with everything but the need to sleep. The song also occupying my mind, the quiet of the room only making it amplify. It was all so noisy. The song and my troubles attacking me from every direction, not giving me any chance to fall into a much-needed slumber. Long sighs left my lips and the party beside me was not having it. He knew deep in my intellect was a bustling mess of thoughts. Curiosity got the best of him and he was speaking before he could register what he was saying in his head. "Something on your mind?" Gently I looked to my side, my vision being blessed with the heart-stopping view. "Is it that obvious?" I chuckled, now aware of how crazy I must've looked. His hand came to caress my cheek, the softest fingertips grazing over my flesh made me breathless. "Wanna talk about it babygirl?" He hummed, moving his hand down to my inner shoulder rubbing gentle circles to calm me down. I let out a big huff, I could keep this in and enjoy how his skin feels against mine or I could clear my head once and for all, it's not like I would get any sleep if I chose the first option. I bore into his eyes trying to figure out which option I should take, I was pulled out of my trance when I saw his eyes flick vigorously between mine; searching for my answer. "Sure," I cleared my throat and sat up, ready to let this out once and for all to the person I loved the most. He too sat up ready to listen and understand, compassion glazed over his eyes.

"No one loves me Taehyung!" I sighed feeling a small weight being lifted off of me. His eyes almost popped out of his eyes and he reached forward ready to interject, to tell me I'm wrong, "No don't," I stopped him "Let me," He sat back intrigued as to what nonsense I was mewing. "Repeatedly I've been told no one likes me or someone has a problem with me. My family said it and so have my friends over the years. Not one friend or family member I had didn't tell me they found faults in who I was. It got boring Tae and I started to believe it, I still do. Especially when you hear it from someone you love and trust fully. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much. I just feel unloved and that I've been lied to all my life. I feel useless and disappointed. Disappointed that I'm not enough for people and disappointed in myself for fully trusting people so quickly. I'm so lost and confused now, each day feels as if it has no meaning and I dont know if I wanna be here to deal with each day because all I can think about is what I did wrong and if I'll ever be able to be loved? I don't want to eat or sleep or interact with people that aren't my best friend. Each conversation I try to hold feels like a chore. I feel like I failed, I let people win over me, I called defeat while they carry on living their best lives. Now there's nothing left for me to do, I'm just living for the sake of it. Each day all I do is wallow in self-pity rather than moving on with the people who do truly love me because it's empty inside now, there's a big hole punctured in by the people who pretended to love me and care. If I think about my future I just think about running away from my current situation and starting afresh with my best friend. Going somewhere where I don't know anyone and starting new relationships but choosing carefully so I don't feel the same heartbreak again. I want a change, a new beginning, a fresh start." Tears pricked at my eyes as I poured out the worries that ached at my heart but a smile still creeping up on my face as I thought about being with people who truly love me.

"Leyya, I love you! More than anyone and I want you to know that. For me, you're everything and I mean that I promise." Tae lovingly confessed, his hands latching onto mine reassuringly. My smile slowly melted from my face, another worry itching at my head. "You don't Tae because you're not real! You aren't here right now; this is all a figment of my imagination. This is what I wish for every night, to be held in your arms and to hear your heartbeat right next to my ear as I sleep. To be your one and only, the love of your life. The only person you look at and the only person to be loved by you but that's not happening and it will never happen. You're Korean and 9 years older than me, a famous K-pop idol adored by many and you live in Seoul approximately 5,000 miles away from me. Lastly, you don't know me and you never will. Even if I do meet you, you'll see me as an ARMY, not as someone who you could possibly fall in love with. It sounds so ridiculous but this out of all things hurts the most, the harsh reality. I'm loving someone with my whole heart who doesn't even know I exist or how much I'm devoted to him. There are probably millions of people who feel the same, I'm nothing special just another in the mass of people. You made me fall in love with you from so far away and it wasn't how good looking you were or who you were. It was you, the real Kim Taehyung. I'm in love with how real and sincere you are, your goofiness and randomness. I love everything about you, the good and the bad, the ups and downs. I want to experience them all but I won't. Ever. It feels as if my heart is being ripped from my chest as I say this but its the truth and I have to face that I won't ever get you, I won't ever be lucky enough to know you personally. You will always be Taehyung; my bias from BTS who I love so dearly but no one understands because to everyone else I'm just a teenage girl going through her one of many phases. If it's a phase why does it hurt to love you?" At this point, tears were streaming down my face and I was holding onto Tae's hand for my dear life, he sat there watching me come undone not saying a word because I was right and he knew it. The Tae sitting in front of me wasn't real, I made him up to help comfort me.

My breathing started to steady itself as I took all the energy I had left to focus on my breathing. We both sat in a comfortable yet endearing silence, I was thankful he didn't push or question my words instead, he let me get all the shit I was bottling up out. The sun started to rise and I felt sleep descending onto my lids. Tae sensed my exhaustion and laid down with his arms open, inviting me to join him. Sighing contently, a sleepy smile overtook my face. I snuggled into his side and clutched onto his body with my dear life, not wanting the moment to conclude. For once I didn't feel as heavy but there was still something there, eating and gnawing at me but like I always do, I chose to ignore it. There was still something more, some unsaid words that I didn't choose to air, I can't air them because it hurts too much to talk about.

The chorus of the song played but this time faintly without a jumbled mess of worries interfering, it spread bliss throughout my body. "I'd love it if we made it!" The words lulled over again and again. Would I be able to make it? Will this emptiness be filled with happiness or more sorrow? I'm aware he isn't real but I love how warm he is, despite it being hot, his warmth isn't only in temperature but he makes me feel safe and wanted. He makes me want to cry and jump in joy that he's here but cry also in despair as he's not really with me. I'm just holding onto the fact that what my brain made could be real. His embrace was secure yet relaxing, it didn't feel forced, it felt just right. My eyes slowly blinked closed and my limbs fell free against his body. A neat kiss was sweetly placed on my forehead and collected breathing lay close by your ear.

"You are loved!"

(i made my mom cry pt2)

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