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riizegasm · 7 days

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Through The Fire || B. EJ

❀ pairing: &team byun euijoo x fem!reader (ft. nicholas)

❀ genre: bffs to lovers!au, angst, minor fluff

❀ word count: ~6.2k

❀ warnings: explicit language, reader has a house fire, slight possessive behavior, lots of introspection

❀ summary: Stability is a luxury that isn’t afforded to everyone. However, you’re lucky enough to have your best friend, who has remained as the one stable factor throughout your whole life, even through the fire.

❀ A/N: I'm so so excited to share my second work with you all! I think this is one of the fastest times I have ever written a piece, which I think just shows how much I really love it. I hope you all love it too! As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are always welcome :)

masterlist

Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. Blue. Red—

“Y/N!”

You blink, no longer blinded by the flash of cop cars. A quick glance across the parking lot reveals a familiar silhouette trying to cross the yellow caution tape, only being held back by a policeman. You release a shaky breath, trying to find your voice for the first time all night.

“It’s okay,” you call, praying your voice is loud enough. “He’s here for me.”

For once in your life, your voice is actually heard, the police officer nodding once before lifting the caution tape. Euijoo manages to duck under, his large frame only stumbling once before rising to his full height. His long legs allow him to move quickly, pulling you into a hug before you can even blink. From your sitting position, your face ends up pressed into the hard plane of Euijoo’s abdomen. You can feel his thundering heartbeat beneath the skin.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he breathes, leaning down to press his cheek into the messy mop of your hair.

When the two of you part, you wince at the few black streaks that have transferred to Euijoo’s t-shirt. You know that ash is likely still coloring your face, the scent of fire and burning fabric clinging to your skin. Although the flames have been put out, there is still residual smoke pluming from the building behind you. You cough twice, as if wisps of clouded air are still swirling around your lungs.

Euijoo squats down, finally eye level with your seated form as he searches your face. You let your eyes flutter shut, telling yourself that you’re still dazed from the fire. In reality, you know that making eye contact with the man before you would be too painful. He has always been too transparent, emotions freely swimming in his brown eyes.

“Were you able to grab anything else?” Euijoo’s voice has fallen to no more than a whisper.

You just shake your head in response, not bothering to acknowledge your purse and laptop that are placed next to you. Everything else, as far as you know, is gone. Euijoo sighs.

“They said that tomorrow, we can come back to look for things,” you whisper, swallowing back the sob that threatens to escape your throat. “But they told us not to get our hopes up.”

Euijoo is silent for a moment, staring at you with those deep dark eyes. You can feel the intensity of his stare with your eyes closed, having been on the receiving end of that same gaze many times. You know he pities you, but that’s the last thing you want right now.

“I’m taking you home, back to my place. You can stay there for as long as you need.”

Your eyes pop open, meeting Euijoo’s gaze for the first time that night. “You don’t have to. I can get a hotel or something for the night.”

“Absolutely not. When you moved out here, I promised your parents that I would take care of you, so that’s what I’m going to do.” Euijoo stands again to his full height, reaching out a hand that you eye warily. “Now let’s go home.”

. . .

Euijoo’s body wash smells of wood and cinnamon, the smell filling the bathroom and replacing the scent of fire and smoke that had previously seeped into your skin. Even his body lotion has a very specific scent, one that you are all too familiar with. The aroma clings to his clothes, along with a faint hint of laundry detergent, filling your nose as you slip into one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. They both hang incredibly long on you, shoulders in the shirt sagging while the shorts are snug around your hips.

Your wet hair has been pulled back into a bun, which you know will be a mess to tame in the morning. But Euijoo didn’t have any of the right hair products, and you would rather die than ask him to buy you something at the moment. Even when he offered, you shut him down, letting him know that anything he was missing would be a problem for the next day. After all, it was already well after midnight.

Euijoo’s eyes soften around the edges when you finally emerge from the bathroom, smiling timidly at you from the couch. You plop down unceremoniously next to him, hugging your knees to your chest as you back into the corner of the couch. Its leather creaks with the movement, a familiar sound after all these years.

“I ordered some food, just in case you haven’t eaten,” Euijoo says, inching further into your space. It’s impossible to fight a flinch when he places a hand on your bare knee, right where his shorts have ridden up your thigh. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

Without looking, you know that Euijoo is rolling his eyes, the tiny hint of sass that he’s harbored since childhood peeking through.

“Well, I called your dad, and he said you only texted your parents briefly. He wanted to talk to you but I told him that you were showering and probably didn’t feel like talking.” Euijoo gives your thigh a firm squeeze. “But I was hoping you’d at least talk to me.”

Your heart lurches at the thought of Euijoo speaking to your family, even though you know it has been a regular occurrence since you were teenagers. Your parents had always been fond of him, the picture-perfect image of the boy next door. And as you grew older, Euijoo had basically been absorbed into the family. Even though he’s been your best friend since you were children, you don’t know why the thought of talking to him right now is making your stomach swim.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you mumble, shrinking further into the couch cushions.

“Y/N…just…look at me, please?”

It takes all your strength, but you manage to tear your gaze away from your knees to meet Euijoo’s own. His rounded eyes are sparkling like they always are, a hint of sadness dampening their brightness. His lips pull up into a small smile at the eye contact, plush cheeks dimpling. His warm hand is still placed firmly on your thigh, large enough to span most of its circumference.

“There you are,” he coos, beginning to rub light circles on the exposed skin of your thigh. “Listen, I know you. I know you’re going to keep saying everything is fine because you don’t want anyone to worry about you. But your entire apartment building just burned down. You’re feeling something. You have to talk to someone about it. Even if it’s not me, you have to let someone in.”

You blink, and when you reopen your eyes, your vision is cloudy. Fat, hot tears spill over, leaving scalding trails down your cheeks. You can barely make out Euijoo’s smile dropping before you are pulled into a tight embrace. When you both were younger, you used to hate when Euijoo would use his overwhelming strength against you. But now, you are grateful for it, knowing you wouldn’t have hugged him otherwise.

“I was so scared, Juju,” you sob into the crook of his neck. “I was just in my room and when I opened the door, everything was in flames. There wasn’t anywhere I could go! I was trapped on the balcony until they came and got me. I thought I was gonna die.”

Euijoo just squeezes you tighter at the outburst, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so sorry. But you’re okay now. You’re safe here with me.”

The two of you are quiet for a few moments, the only thing interrupting the silence being the occasional hiccup or sniffle. It feels like ages until you have finally calmed down enough to pull away. But when you do, you notice the tear tracks drying on Euijoo’s ruddy cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” You ask softly.

Euijoo just shrugs, chuckling sadly. “I don’t like seeing you upset.”

You don’t have enough time to respond before the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of your food. Euijoo excuses himself to go answer it, allowing you to admire the long lines of his legs as he retreats. You can’t help but feel embarrassed, as you always are around the man. But you hate the way he leaves your heart hammering in your chest as you stare.

It’s not like you are unaware of how attractive Euijoo is. After all, the first time you ever laid eyes on him at seven years old, you swore he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Despite the childish attraction, you had grown to love him in a much deeper way, the kind of love that only develops when you know someone inside and out. Euijoo grew taller, older, buffer, more handsome, and you had found a million ways to love him differently, love him deeper. The love you had for Euijoo surely changed, which leaves you hating the way your body heats up and your pulse picks up speed as Euijoo rounds the corner.

His wide smile is paired with crinkled eyes and you feel a piece of your heart turn heavy like lead.

“I’m like 90% sure they got some of our order wrong, but there’s still plenty of good stuff in case you’re hungry.”

You don’t bother looking at the takeout bag, too busy guiltily feasting your eyes on the sight before you.

. . .

Falling into a routine is unfairly easy. The two of you will wake up from your shared bed, at Euijoo’s insistence that you don’t sleep on the couch, and begin to get ready for the day. You cook breakfast as Euijoo gets ready for work, cherishing the fact that your job has permitted you plenty of personal leave. You watch him leave in a crisply pressed suit and daintily patterned tie, off to his accounting job for a few hours.

Then you sit in silence, ruminating over everything that has led you to this exact moment. You replay the moment that you were confronted with a wall of flames, feeling heat lick at your toes the same way it did that night. You let your shoulders shake in terror the same way they did when you were trapped on the balcony, fearing for your life. You cough like the billowing smoke is clouding your lungs, even though the air in Euijoo’s apartment is crisp and smells faintly of lemon-scented cleaner.

Then Euijoo comes through the door, and you slap a smile on your face. Sometimes he returns with takeout, bag overflowing with all of your shared favorites. Sometimes he comes with a bag full of groceries, which the two of you unpack together while Euijoo recounts his day. You’re quick to shoo him away as you begin to cook.

It’s the only thing that makes you feel like less of a parasite than you are.

You’re both following that exact routine until you reach your first Saturday, and Euijoo practically vibrates in excitement at the prospect of spending the day together. Despite living in the same city, the two of you have rarely spent full days together, work or other personal engagements always getting in the way.

“I was thinking of having a few friends over tonight,” Euijoo mentions over a bowl of cereal. “I feel like you haven’t met enough of my friends.”

“It’s your house,” you shrug, burying your nose into your own bowl so you don't have to face the disappointed look in his eye.

“Y/N, you gotta stop with that.”

“With what?” You snap.

You know you’re being difficult. You know that all Euijoo wants is some positive input from his best friend, but you can’t. It hurts deep in your core to give him what he’s wanting when you know you are already taking so much. You shouldn’t be here, and you definitely shouldn’t have a say in whether or not Euijoo has his friends over tonight. Yet, he wants to hear from you.

Like he thinks you’re important. Like he thinks you matter. Like he thinks you’re more than just a virus, invading a host for selfish gain.

You have nothing to gain, you remind yourself.

“I’m sorry, Juju,” you sigh, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. I mean it.”

Euijoo’s spoon falls into his porcelain bowl with a loud clink. “I know you’re not. You’re just going through a lot right now. But I just want to help you.”

“You’re doing way more than just helping me.”

“I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

You sigh. “What do you mean? You’re already doing so much by just having me here and I can’t help but just wonder why.”

“Because I love you.”

The way he says it jumpstarts your heart, hotwiring it so it’s moving at a million miles per hour in your chest. You know he doesn’t mean it the way you want him to. He loves in the way a best friend loves, in the way family loves, that much is clear.

But there’s something in his open expression that has your heart clinging onto a maybe. Maybe he has loved you the way you have loved him and hated yourself for. Maybe he knows that being loved is all that you have ever wanted but is simultaneously your greatest fear. Maybe he knows that all of your belongings disappearing right before your very eyes while he was the only thing that remained meant something to you.

“You’re my best friend.”

Or maybe it meant nothing at all.

Euijoo sighs, leaning back in his chair before addressing you across the table from him. “It’s impossible for me not to worry about you when you won’t talk to me, or to anyone! You don’t leave the house and it just scares me. I want to help you, but I can’t do anything until you let me.”

You swallow, your bite of cereal feeling too thick as it travels down your esophagus. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Euijoo mutters as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just let me in.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you?”

You’re not, and you both know it. If anything, you’re doing the exact opposite, trying to close yourself off as much as possible. You shrink into spaces, making yourself so small that Euijoo will forget that you’re there. It never seems to work, though. The other man sees you no matter where you attempt to hide.

There’s a moment of silence as the two best friends regard each other. Silently, you mourn your cereal getting soggy in your bowl even though you have lost your appetite. Euijoo’s own is empty, his metal spoon resting against the pure white bowl. For a moment, you catch a whiff of cinnamon. You’re temporarily perplexed, only to have your own question answered when the neckline of Euijoo’s shirt shifts against your collarbones. Despite not wanting to feel parasitic, you can’t refuse the comfort of literally living in his clothes.

“I just want you to be happy and have some fun tonight, so I’m going to have some people stop by.” Euijoo doesn’t once break eye contact as he speaks. “It’s not going to be big, but it will be good for you to talk to someone who isn’t me.”

You suppress a scoff, knowing that you don't really talk to Euijoo either, not in the way he desires. “Fine. Like I said, it’s your house.”

You don't stay to hear the exasperated sigh that Euijoo lets out, choosing instead to dump the remains of your cereal in the trash. There isn’t much other space to retreat to, so you make yourself comfy on the sofa, just barely out of Euijoo’s sight. It’s only a moment before the man joins you, hoisting your legs onto his lap.

“Movie?” He questions, thumb rubbing small circles into the bare skin of your ankle as if all is forgiven.

You just make a small noise of affirmation before sinking further into the cushions, letting yourself get comfortable as Euijoo puts something on.

Euijoo’s touch used to fluster you, back when you were in that awkward stretch of preteen and early teen years. No guys touched girls the way that Euijoo touched you unless they were dating. The girls in your classes would always try and convince you that it had to mean something more, that he had to feel something more for you than just platonic love. He loved loved you.

It didn’t help that you loved him way more than you should have.

It was enough to make you flinch when he wrapped an arm around your waist and pull away when he trapped you in a hug. You avoided holding hands on the way home from school and refused to share earbuds when the two of you sat next to each other. It would all make your heart pound too hard and your palms so sweaty that your phone would slip through your grasp.

You were just friends; that you knew. It didn’t matter that Euijoo loved to play with the loose pieces of hair that framed your face or that his hand outgrew yours to the point where your fingers swam in the spaces between his. It didn’t matter that your chest constricted every time his right cheek dimpled or that your face burned every time he called you by your name.

Because every boiling pot eventually cools to a simmer when the heat dissipates.

As you two grew into late teens and early adulthood, you eventually relaxed into the affection that Euijoo would display. The constriction relaxed to a minor tightness and the burn became more of a minor glow. You became more confident that this is what friends feel for each other, a love so vast that it fills your core to the brim but never fully encompasses you.

You would gladly let him encompass you. But until he does, you’ll have to make do with his scent.

You find yourself using Euijoo’s body wash in the shower before the party, even though your own has made a home right next to his. You also use his lotion, rubbing the scent of him into your skin. As much as you contemplate wearing his clothes again, you know that it will only be right to put on your best for tonight. Your makeup and hair are done for the first time in a week, and you feel a bit more like yourself again.

You feel like a girl anyone can look at and not know she’s screaming inside. You consider it a win.

The few friends that Euijoo invites over arrive in waves. It gives you enough time to introduce yourself and make some small talk before having to do it time and time again. By the fifth or so introduction, though, you’re feeling a little worn out, even with the booze that helps ease your nerves. You grab another seltzer from the fridge and squeeze into the corner of the sofa. You only have a few moments of peace before the leather dips beside you.

“Mind if I join you?”

Deep, piercing eyes are only barely visible behind overgrown black fringe, the rest of his hair falling down the back of his neck. Nicholas’s smile is welcoming, extremely warm and familiar for someone you have just met a handful of minutes ago. Despite the assortment of clunky rings, silver jewelry, and thick eyeliner, he seems pretty soft and pleasant.

“Go ahead,” you mumble, taking a long swig from your can.

“You know, It’s nice to finally meet you, the infamous but ever-illusive best friend. Euijoo literally talks about you all the time.”

You wish you could say the same, but Euijoo has always been notoriously quiet about others when you two speak. It used to bug you, not knowing anything about who your best friend chose to spend his time with. But throughout the years, you were forced to let it go.

“Good things, I hope.”

Nicholas chuckles softly. “Great things, actually. But something tells me it still doesn’t compare to you in real life.”

“You don’t even know me,” you scoff. “How would you know what I’m like?”

“Well, if your personality is anything like your beauty, then I think Euijoo just barely scratched the surface.”

The snort that you let out genuinely takes you by surprise. You rush to apologize, free hand coming up to hide your grin despite the way Nicholas is smiling as well. He looks pretty like this, you note, with his cheeks twisted upwards and eyes shining with mirth.

“I’m so sorry,” you giggle. “But that was a crazy line.”

Nicholas shrugs. “Listen, making pretty girls laugh is an art form. I had to say what I had to say. You honestly looked like you were going to commit murder just sitting here.”

Now it’s your turn to shrug, the smooth beats of Euijoo’s playlist soothing the silence between the two. The brief moment of respite is enough for you to feel a pair of eyes on you from across the room. When you turn to face Euijoo, though, he just shoots you a calm smile.

“I don’t think he likes that I’m talking to you.”

“Who? Euijoo?”

Nicholas doesn’t respond, choosing instead to take a long swig of his drink. The silver rings on his fingers reflect the minimal light in the room as he tilts his cup back. You struggle not to trace the movement of his throat with your gaze as he drinks.

“Why would he not want you to talk to me?”

“I think it’s because you’re off limits, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond, a warm body plops down on the couch next to you, instantly pressing into your space. The woodsy scent of Euijoo’s cologne is confirmation enough, but the way his hand instantly finds a home on your thigh is a dead giveaway. When you look over to regard the man, his eyes are trained away, locked on Nicholas instead.

“And what are you two chatting about?” He inquires with an overly saccharine smile.

Nicholas just smiles. “See what I mean?”

He’s gone with little more than a wink and a subtle tip of his cup.

. . .

Sunday morning brings a welcome mundane energy. You and Euijoo stand side by side at the sink, sudsy hands working on washing sticky juice and lip gloss off glasses from the night before. There’s soft music playing from Euijoo’s phone, a pleasant melody filling the silence along with the sound of flowing water. Despite the serenity, you can’t help the question itching in the back of your brain.

“So what was that last night?”

“What was what?” Euijoo’s eyes are endearingly round when he turns to look at the woman on his left.

You sigh. “That whole thing with Nicholas? We were talking and then you came in seeming all threatened?”

“Threatened?” Euijoo chuckles. “Why would I be threatened?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I’m asking.”

The smile that rises on Euijoo’s face doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His ears begin to bloom a brilliant shade of red, tipping you off to the lie he’s about to tell.

“I wasn’t threatened. It made me happy to see two of my closest friends getting along.”

The sound of the faucet running prevents you from responding, Euijoo having turned it on with a sense of finality. You decide not to push it, knowing that when Euijoo gets cagey like this, time and space are the only thing that can make him open up. You guess it’s what makes the two of you similar, your limited ability to be transparent with each other over the things that really matter.

You spend the rest of the day circling around each other like animals in an enclosure. You share space, following each other from room to room while simultaneously keeping as much distance as physically possible. When Euijoo sits on one side of the couch, you sit on the other. When you rummage through the fridge, Euijoo stands by the breakfast table. It isn’t until you both find yourselves in the shared bathroom, brushing your teeth over a shared sink that you speak.

“I think threatened is the wrong word for it,” Euijoo says with a foamy mouth. “I just know how Nicholas is, so I wanted you to be careful.”

You spit. “What do you mean?”

“He’s the player type, likes to fuck around.” Euijoo spits and swishes some water around his mouth before continuing. “I know he thinks you’re cute or whatever. But you deserve better than that.”

“Since when do you care about my love life?”

“Since forever.”

There it goes again, the feeling of maybe. You are left to wonder if he means that in the sense that you want him to mean it. You wonder if his attention to you comes from his Virgo nature or from his genuine care for you. You wonder if it comes from his love for you, and if it’s the same type of love that you have for him.

“You know I don’t date like that,” you mumble, folding your arms over your chest. You’re once again clad in Euijoo’s tee shirt, a tiny pair of shorts disappearing underneath its hem.

Euijoo sighs. “I know. But I also know that Nico doesn’t care about dating. That’s not what he’d want from you.”

“And who’s to say that’s what I want from him either?”

“I didn’t know you were that type.”

I’m not, you want to say, but the words swirl back down your throat like water down a drain. You don't get a chance to respond before Euijoo is leaving the bathroom, running a hand through his hair. It feels pathetic to follow him out, but you do anyway, trying to find words as you plop down onto his bed. Euijoo switches the light off before settling in next to his best friend.

“Look,” Euijoo says after a moment of silence. “If you want to go after Nico, then I can’t stop you. I’m sure he’d be happy to have you.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Have me? In that way, I mean.”

The words leave your mouth before you can properly process what they mean. You want to rush to take them back, to let the words that hang in the darkness return to the safety of your brain. For some reason, you let them linger.

Euijoo releases a shaky breath, the sound seeming thunderous in the silent darkness. For a good moment, that’s all there is. You would be convinced that the man fell asleep if it weren’t for the odd rhythm of his breathing and the way his body shifts.

“Y/N, I could never.”

The blood in your veins ices over, leaving you frozen in place.

“Oh.”

Euijoo shifts on the bed, laying on his side so that he’s able to fully face you. “I mean there’s all of this. You’re in a vulnerable spot and we’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’m sure you’re just feeling a lot right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Euijoo sighs. “That’s why I also want you to think twice before going for Nico.”

You want to scream. How Euijoo could bring Nicholas up at a time like this is beyond you. You don't know how he can’t see that this isn’t about him. This isn’t about trauma or a fire or needing a warm bed to sleep in. This is about you, both of you. This has been about you way before the fire and will continue to be about you for years after.

But it’s no use, you know that much. In times of conflict, Euijoo has always been quick to skirt around the topic, always trying to obscure the truth through diversion. But there’s one simple fact that remains clear; Euijoo doesn’t want you. Or rather, he doesn’t want you to want him.

“I really hate when you do this, you know,” you spit.

You can almost hear Euijoo’s eye roll as he speaks. “When I do what?”

“When you try to tell me how I feel. You don’t know shit about how I’m feeling.”

“I could,” Euijoo retorts. “But you never let me in. So what the hell do you expect me to do?”

Even in the dark, you know the man’s face has turned red, hot with frustration. The knowledge is enough to keep you silent for a moment, carefully mulling over your words before you speak.

“If I tell you how I’m feeling, I’m going to end up telling you too much.”

“You could never tell me too much.”

You can’t help but sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “I just did.”

. . .

Cleaning the entire apartment is how you choose to put salve on the wounds of your friendship. You scrub away at the grime on the countertops, wipe the grease and stains from every mirror, and mop the floor until you can see your reflection in it. It’s not much, but it’s something to distract you from the red hot feeling that blooms in your chest when you think about the night before.

Bits of yourself seeped through the locked cage of your heart last night. And now that they’re out in the open, you’re not sure if they will ever return to you.

Euijoo returns home from work with a sigh, loosening his tie right when he comes through the doorway. The skin underneath his eyes has taken on a purplish hue, fine lines settling deep from exhaustion. He doesn’t even look like himself, despite looking everything like himself. You hate how you think he looks beautiful.

“Hey,” he greets softly when he strolls into the kitchen. “I didn’t have time to pick anything up, so I ordered delivery.”

You nod once, before tuning into the fact that the man has yet to look at you. “That’s fine.”

The silence that overcomes the kitchen hangs low like nimbostratus clouds, heavy with rainwater. It’s almost oppressive, the way Euijoo’s gaze remains down at his feet while you pick at your cuticles. Never in your decades of friendship have you ever had tension like this. You hate the way it makes your throat constrict, suddenly parched for a connection that won’t come.

“Are you okay?” You manage to croak out. “You look…stressed.”

Euijoo lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Maybe because I am.”

“Why?”

Finally, Euijoo’s gaze snaps up to meet your own, eyes holding a sense of disbelief. “My best friend propositioned me last night and I turned her down. And when I turned her down, she lost it on me.”

“Juju, I—,”

“No,” he interrupts, voice scratchy from the thickness in his throat. “Don’t do that now. I’m just…what’s going on with you, Y/N? I don’t know what has changed, but it’s killing me. Why can’t you just tell me what’s been going on with you so I can help?”

Your eyes begin to sting as Euijoo speaks, the beginnings of tears welling up near your waterline. It takes a few seconds for you to swallow down the lump that sits high in your throat. Your hands are dry from various cleaning solutions as they flex and contract at your sides, looking for something to grasp onto. You just end up balling them into fists, letting your nails press grounding pains into your palms.

“I told you how much you’ve already helped me.”

Euijoo sighs, running a hand through his hair. “And I told you that wasn’t enough. So talk to me, tell me why I can’t help you anymore. Tell me why you asked me to sleep with you all of a sudden! Tell me why you’ve been so weird about this whole situation from the beginning!”

“Because I need you!”

You don't know when your voice gained enough power to come out as a yell, shrill and pained. But once it does, the dam breaks. You know you are helpless to stop it.

“I need you, and it scares me, Juju. You’re my best friend and I love you and need you in ways that you don’t need me. You provide me with everything and I’m just here as your best friend. I’m the friend you don’t even bring around much and the friend you don’t let anyone talk to! You make it so clear that you don’t need me and yet, here I am, living off you like some parasite.

“I love you, Euijoo. I’m in love with you. And knowing that you don’t love me back is one thing. But for you to take my love for you and throw it in my face as just another one of my vulnerabilities is cruel. You ask why I don’t let you in, and this is why. If I do, I’ll just tell you how I feel and you’ll pity me like you do now.”

Lightning strikes across Euijoo’s face as he listens, expression slowly twisting in pain. It’s a flash of a million emotions at once. Surprise, hurt, disbelief, and then it all mellows out into a calm nothingness.

“Have you only felt this way since the fire?”

You fight the urge to scream at the top of your lungs. “No. I’ve felt this way since forever, maybe.”

“Are you sure?” The man’s eyes reflect the light in the room, glossed over and twinkling with the first hints of unshed tears.

“You know what’s funny,” you bite out. “When I lost everything, there was only one thing that remained constant in my life, even through the fire.”

“Me?”

“My feelings for you.”

Euijoo sucks in an audible breath, shaky and laborious. It’s as if the confession finally sunk into his consciousness, as if he finally understood exactly what you meant when you said you loved him. His shoulders immediately sag in relief as the first few tears begin to trail down his cheeks. Despite the tears, he can’t help but smile.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were eleven.”

“What?”

Euijoo just chuckles, sniffling twice before continuing. “I thought that you knew and that’s why you were shutting me out! And then when you just asked if I would sleep with you, I thought you were just rubbing it in my face. Either that or you were just emotionally a mess and needed some support.”

“Well, I am,” you respond with a watery smile. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you, too.”

Euijoo slowly approaches your tense figure, as if not to spook you. Even his hand movements are subtle as they reach for your dry hands. With just a small tug, you find yourself stumbling forward, far into Euijoo’s space. The height difference is enough to force you to crane your neck upwards to make eye contact, not surprised to see the man already smiling down at you.

Tears continue to stream down Euijoo’s face, the wetness dripping from the tip of his nose down to the floor. You know you probably look similar, despite having tried your hardest to fight back tears from the beginning. It’s no use now. Your walls have already come crashing down.

“I love you,” Euijoo whispers, as if sharing a secret not meant to escape your own personal bubble. “I always have, and I think I always will.”

You release a shaky breath, body trembling in Euijoo’s hold. “I love you, too.”

“Can I…?” Euijoo doesn’t finish his question, eyes simply darting down to your lips before meeting your gaze once again.

All it takes is a slow nod before a hand is wrapping around your waist, pulling you in closer and closer until—

When you were twelve, you had your first kiss. It was nothing more than a simple peck, shared on the back of the school bus on a school field trip. You remember the way your heart fluttered back then, palms clammy and body vibrating with nerves. You felt kind of gross afterwards, but giddy nonetheless.

When you told Euijoo later that day, he looked shocked. He floundered for a moment as he stood in place, frozen on their walk home from school. You remember lightly punching his shoulder, asking him what his deal was. It seemed to be enough to shock him out of his stupor, only snapping back to attention to say:

“That was your first kiss. They always say that’s the one you’re going to remember forever.”

Euijoo was wrong. If there’s one kiss that you will remember forever, it’s this one, with Euijoo’s large hands spanning the circumference of your waist. It’s this one, with Euijoo’s plush yet slightly chapped lips grazing yours. It’s this one, with the salt of tears mixing in with the taste of each others’ mouths. It’s this one, with Euijoo.

When the two of you part, Euijoo presses his forehead to yours, allowing your breaths to mingle as you pant. You can’t seem to quite open your eyes yet, simply basking in the sensation of Euijoo taking over all of your senses. You relish in the sound of his labored breathing. You love the warmth of his palms through the thin t-shirt you’re wearing.

You bask in the scent of him, the bold aroma of cinnamon, tinged with a hint of smoke.

#byun euijoo imagines #&team imagines #&team smut #&team fluff #&team angst #written in the stars #&team

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waitmyturtles · 3 months

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Dead Friend Forever: I managed to catch up in time to watch the finale, and here are my immediate, uneducated, "holy shit" thoughts

First off: I acknowledge I am an utter interloper on this tag, having written exactly zero meta words about this mostly great show. Second: everything I know about slashers comes from my childhood memories of "Scream," and my recent conversations with the lovelies @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm. So I'm not an expert here. Thirdly! I was inspired in part by them to watch this, and also by the friendies who jumped into comments on my recent KinnPorsche liveblog watches for my Old GMMTV Challenge project. I've been waiting these past few weeks to finish Dead Friend Forever before putting pen to paper on my KP rewatch thoughts, because I thought Be On Cloud did something fabulously experimental with DFF as its second major serial drama.

Anyway: all of this is to say that now that DFF is over, in the near future, I'm gonna write a bunch on KP and a bit more on DFF -- but I want to offer just some quick wandering thoughts on DFF now.

I think like many of y'all, I found the tone of the last PheeJin moments to be discordant with the tenor of the rest of the finale episode. The way I'm calculating this, as I'm sure many of you are, is that I think there was a commentary on fate and Buddhist purgatory, particularly with New/Tan being able to hear from a thankful Non one more time before New's passing. New suffers, it seems to me, the least painful death, and I think that was in part Non’s doing.

In order to conclude the tone on PheeJin, I do wish that we would have seen a flashback back to PheeJin at the house. I guess we’d assume that Phee and Jin never regained their consciousness, that the antidote didn’t work, and that their cyclical fate would be returning back to the lakeshore, only to be haunted by Non again. While it seems to me that Tee, in whatever realm of fate they ended up in, got his appropriate ending — I don’t think that the PheeJin cyclical ending at the lakeshore assigned enough “blame” of fate to either of them, especially Jin. I know @lurkingshan notes that that’s a nod to the need to appease any hopes of surviving ships, and I agree with that assessment. But also — god, BLEH, they sucked, we were left with PheeJin?! JIN??? My boy White, my bubbala, he’s the good one that got really in-your-face off-ed? Wah. (But I do see and understand why White needed to die, to make Tee’s residual fate the utter living hell he deserves.)

Like I said: on a more macro note, I’m gonna have thoughts about DFF, Be On Cloud, and KP in the coming days, because I just like that BOC is dabbling with some experimental writing while allowing solid acting to really shine. (And I compare that to what’s happening at Idol Factory and the recent writing miss that was The Sign.) I wish the ending wasn’t as milquetoast as it was, but BOC still traffics in BLs, and I guess they felt they needed to throw the fans some kind of BL bone (huh huh).

But overall? I am REALLY GLAD I watched this, and it absolutely belongs on the OGMMTVC syllabus. This was incredibly new for the Thai BL genre, and I gotta give BOC — AND ESPECIALLY BARCODE AND TA, WOW — their flowers for taking Thai BL into this new direction. For the most part of this run, I had a great time with this show, as brutal as the content was.

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever meta #dead friend forever the series #dff the series #barcode tinnasit #ta nannakun #sammon

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andreabaideas · 4 months

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Idea : thoughts on Daisy Jones and the Six and why the love triangle worked for me.

I just saw an inspiring publication/post (by @hellcat-in-chaos :https://www.tumblr.com/hellcat-in-chaos/190027062509/hellcat-in-chaos-66-fuucckk?source=share); reblogged by @alwayschasingrainbows

It made think on Djats.

It finally lets me put into (mostly) coherent words what I thought about both CamiBilly (Camilly) and DaisyBilly (Daisylly) while watching/reading. Thats why i LOVE both.

The post says that, and i quote :

"What's the difference?" I asked him. “Between the love of your life, and your soulmate?""

“One is a choice, and one is not."

Billy may be a mess (totally IS), thats why i LOVE him, but i'm digressing...I get him!! Whats better the LOVE of you Life or your soulmate?

There’s lucky people who finds one or the other, and never gets exposed to both at once (like Billy was) .

There's some others who never find any of them…Thats okay too, your biggest love should be YOURSELF (single Life IS awesome, i'm happier single than in couple,TBH, i'm more Karen Sirko)

But, and that's when trouble begins, others are like Billy, and find themselves between ice and Fire , or as my Abu (RIP) said (in spanish):

Está atrapado entre dos tierras…y al final no podrá respirar = he's trapped between two lands, and in the end he won't be able to breathe.

To me Camila IS and Will Always be Billy’s love of his Life , because he actively has chosen Camila, both in book (better) and TV (not as good, but good enough), Camila IS the one he wants to be with. She is his choice. He loves her to the point of selfdestruction aka the relapse in TV show, when he thinks she has left him in the last episode. He thinks himself broken without her.

On the other hand we have Daisy…To me Billy loves Daisy too, with every inch of him.

Fuck, even the lovely ever wise Camila acknowledges It (in book, the series did a huge disservice to her by erasing her discourse my fave in the book):

"He loves you, i know that he loves you, you know that he loves you...but hes not gonna leave me" (sorry for any possible mistakes, i read it in my native language spanish, not english, so Its a rough translation).

But… he denies It, because she IS just like him… and he cant admit/choose to loving Daisy, someone Who IS like him…Because at that point hes an addict (that doesnt act on It) but an addict nonetheless , once you are you'll always be , in the story he hated himself.

Billy and Daisy are soulmates (in spanish Its almas gemelas, like twinsouls, but in meaning more like soulmates really) because they hadn't chosen each other…yet they can't avoid their situation/ passion (and remember : passion is a also a synonym of pain)

They dont choose each other…Because theres no choice at all for them.

Billy has always had the choice that doesn't make him “broken”, the choice of love : Camila.

And in the end, when he manages to not be broken and only after losing his love, he can choose, from a healthy stand in life, to be with her soulmate (Daisy) and to turn her into another love.

But that quote is right : Love IS a concious act of choice. Soulmates arent…It is someone whose soul calls to you, like a syren chanting in the shore, and that can be good…or -like syren chants were in legends- a curse.

To conclude: I dont get Billy hate at all, i didn't get It when reading the book, and later with the series casting Sam Claflin (my beloved) It didn't help at all for me being objective.

Billy's situation was difficult …His options nearly imposible. He was crying in that Taxi for fucking reasons, you all. In choosing love, he has to deal with the consequences: he loses his soulmate . Also hurts everyone (himself, Camila and Daisy) in the process.

You find that easy to decide?? What would you choose LOVE or SOULMATISM? (I may create a future poll with this question)

If you doubt or dont know your answer, then i'm glad to tell you that you are ...~(insert drumroll sound here)~ Billy Dunne.

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chaos-and-recover · 7 months

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#you guys don't know how software development works and it Pains Me

Could you expand on that?

I think the post sums it up well, that there are physical servers that need to host the platform and that costs money so there's truly no way to have a totally free website (that's why AO3 has fundraising drives, because the alternative is ads and nobody wants that on the Fandom Porn Site).

But also in the recent announcements about restructuring and large parts of the Tumblr team being reassigned to other teams within Automattic and Tumblr essentially being left with a skeleton crew is... not great? Like everyone is celebrating the fact that Tumblr Live is probably going to die soon and ignoring the part that they also won't be shipping many if any new features but instead focusing on the ones they have. And when that part is acknowledged the reaction seems to be that they're gonna fix a bunch of shit and like... they probably aren't.

Development is slow and it requires people and direction. I don't know the details of what staff currently looks like or who's going where but in my experience, "we're focusing on improving the features we have" means "whoever is left will be focused on keeping the lights on." Like, maintaining vital infrastructure and maybe fixing bugs here and there if they have the capacity for it.

Plus not having shiny new features as often if at all makes it really hard to drive new users to the platform, and that makes it less enticing for investors and/or advertisers.

I work for a SaaS company with a significantly smaller userbase than a typical social media site would have, even a relatively underused one like Tumblr (bc we're B2B so our customers are other businesses in a niche-ish field) and just one of our platforms has two distinct product teams, with each team consisting of a product manager, a designer, a handful of developers and a QA team, and that doesn't include the site reliability team who keep the whole thing running and solve database and server issues.

And it'll be hard to attract or retain top talent in any of these roles if your company just isn't putting the resources into the platform.

It takes a lot of people to keep a website functional, and I don't want to be doom and gloom because it might all be fine, at least for the foreseeable future, but it takes a lot of people to keep a software platform running.

I'm just glad it seems like no one at Tumblr is actually losing their jobs at this point.

And lbr I'm still gonna be here til the wheels fall off.

#asks #answered

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zahri-melitor · 11 months

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Batman Reborn: let's break it down.

So I read eight ongoing Reborn titles: Batman, Detective Comics, Batman & Robin, Red Robin, Birds of Prey, Batgirl, Streets of Gotham and Azrael.

Detective Comics: this was the unexpected standout of the set. 'Tec quite often does good family stories, but it got a massive boost by most of its Reborn run being made up of two things: Rucka's Batwoman run and Snyder's The Black Mirror. These are both very, very worthwhile longform stories. It also supported an excellent backup with the Question & Huntress teamup.

Streets of Gotham: aka Dini does his thing. Streets was exactly what I expected from a Bat anthology book written by Dini. Dini's very good at balancing big casts, and the first half of this run was Dini at his best - lots of walk on characters, complex plots, the only really good Damian Wayne characterisation going prior to Bruce's resurrection, and a lot of fun. Andreyko's Manhunter backup was also fantastic. The second half then devolved into interminable Hush storytelling, which I ALSO expect from Dini at this point, and the Two-Face backup simply wasn't as good. It was still enjoyable! But the non-Hush stories were better.

Batman: now here was a title all over the place. It just rotated through SO MANY hands. Personally my favourite stories were: #703, where for one shining moment we got an issue that managed to have Dick, Tim and Damian on page together, in costume, working together (Thank you, Fabian Nicieza); and the Judgment on Gotham crossover that finished out the plot of Azrael. Both were exactly what I enjoy seeing - stories using their supporting cast well. Other than that, you had the Jeremiah Arkham plot, the Kitrina Falcone plots (oh Kitrina), Riddler going back off the rails (I somehow missed where he decided to flip back to being a bad guy instead of a detective), and Two-Face being betrayed by Gilda. There was just so much going on here, and unfortunately it wasn't focused enough on what was going on for Dick.

Azrael: because sometimes you need a tragedy! Azrael was fun. Overtly religious and leaning into Christian theology in places (and Dan Brown plotlines in others), the entire premise of the book was "Watch Michael Lane have a breakdown as he is corrupted by the Suit of Sorrows" and that is exactly what we got. I liked FabNic's plots better than Jim Hine's, but they both pulled off some fun storytelling (I burst out laughing at times. Like when Crusader revealed The Bees). I'm glad it got the crossover to finish out the storyline. The Order of Purity are very bad news, even for a breakaway sect of the Order of St Dumas.

Batman & Robin: oh. Where do I start. This run is, above all, a lot of lost potential. I found Morrison's writing in this particularly painful and a struggle to get through due to their refusal to keep track of what was going on in any other title, and just everything about the way Damian and Alfred in particular were written. I was also particularly aggravated by the timeline inconsistency that B&R #10-16 by any realistic read come AFTER RR #12 (given the resurrection timeline running ahead of all the other titles), but there was no acknowledgment of this fact in the text, and parts of it contradicted that read...this is what an editor should be keeping smoothed out for such a big event (the Return of Bruce Wayne).

Once Morrison left things improved, but realistically it just turned into three separate writers writing three separate stories that didn't really mesh at all. Cornell's story was just more demonisation of Vicky Vale, Winick's story was just Winick writing a Jason story rather than anything about the two title characters, and Tomasi's story was the only one where I actually enjoyed Batman & Robin as a title... only to be let down by the artist clearly never having seen a reference picture of Rebecca or Aaron Langstrom before. You had a villain construct angel wings. On Aaron Langstrom. AARON. LANGSTROM. He's a toddler who is permanently a Man-Bat. He can already fly. The opening movie night though in Tomasi's story was extremely Tomasi and everything my heart wanted.

Birds of Prey: I enjoyed the storytelling in this, though parts of it were very clearly Gail Simone on board. Since I enjoy Simone, I didn't mind that, but for instance the entire plot revolving around rescuing Sin was very much a 'take that' for Sin being written out. I also quite enjoyed the Death of Oracle plot even if I have certain objections to Cass being left off the list (and boggling at the logistics of Wendy and Damian also being left off). Oracle got herself a new Tower!

I have to say though, I cannot imagine how this run would read if you were not already deeply familiar with Simone's first run on Birds of Prey, because she spent so much time picking up dropped plot threads and playing them out.

Andreyko's double issue to finish the book off was actually more of a tie off to his Manhunter backup plot than a Birds of Prey finishing-up plot, which makes sense as it's Andreyko, but it was a little unexpected in that the proper finale of the series was actually #13, not #15.

Batgirl: hmmmm. Yeah, this was probably the weakest written of all 8 and also the book that's aged the fastest. What I think it was successful in doing: look, I loved the Barbara and Wendy plot. That worked really well and was unfortunately the only points in the story that felt like Barbara was fully in character. I also think it was successful in being Stephanie's story. In fact, it felt like Steph was telling it to me. And in the process, eliding over her own mistakes and boosting up how much she was getting praised for her actions. It reminded me a LOT of Cassie Sandsmark's origin story telling in Young Justice Secret Files and Origins - where the main character is telling me her version of events. I actually kind of wish we hadn't got any of Barbara's thought bubbles around Steph, because when they were, they were pretty un-Barbaraish.

Look, there was some fun storytelling here. It was a light and fluffy title. But I don't think it ever fully succeeded in rehabilitating Steph as a usable character for the wider community, because the book so blatantly refused to grapple with Steph's previous actions. Things that other characters had done to Steph and things Editorial had done to Steph? Yes. Things Steph herself did? No.

Red Robin: I loved that this was one of the few titles explicitly committed to trying to keep on top of everything was happening in all of the other books. I enjoyed Yost's run more than Nicieza's, but FabNic also had some great stuff (the Ünternet issue is understandably popular for a reason). Tam, Pru and Lonnie all played off Tim in interesting ways. I actually enjoyed Tim having his little, deserved, breakdown. He spends most of the title at the outer limits of his smugness, using it to conceal his gaps in self-confidence, and while I enjoy Tim being a brat in that manner, this is another title that is just so very informed by pre-existing history that you need to know that Tim is both not quite himself right now, and WHY that is. He was settling back into himself by the end of the book.

I am extremely sad this got cut off where it did, because it was so, so obviously working its way into trying to find a new identity for Tim and move him into adulthood... and then got cut off at the knees, sending Tim into a tailspin holding pattern for a decade that they've only JUST been able to extract him from.

#z canon read throughs #batman reborn

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roamwithahungryheart · 2 years

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I am utterly disgusted at AH supporters who try to say that she couldn't have really abused him because she is a woman and she is younger than him. That shit triggers me to no end, because I am a man and I was abused for over 5 years by a woman who was younger and physically smaller than me. These people do not understand how us, men, feel when a girl attacks us. My ex would punch me, kick me, scratch me, throw heavy things at me, and I would just sit there stunned, because I knew if I hit her back, then I'd been seen as the monster. But I couldn't stop her, cause she would get rabid when she was angry, so I just had to take it. She would beat me up and then laugh about my bruises a few hours later after she'd calm down, saying "Wow, I didn't even knew I could do that much damage!" as if she was proud or impressed of herself. I stayed because I loved her and because she made me believe it wasn't that bad and it was my fault for pissing her off. My entire family knew and treated it as a joke, no one ever encouraged me to leave. They just helped normalise it. It took her putting a knife to my throat and actually making me fear for my life to make me get out of that relationship.

Men who are abused by women are mocked, our abuse is diminished and never taken seriously, and we are manipulated to believe it's not even happening, cause 'she is just a small girl, what can she do to you'. Women can be strong, women can be vicious and women can be abusers. And men don't have some sort of inbuilt shild that makes us unable to feel pain when we are beaten and attacked. I can't believe people still don't understand this!

Justice for Johnny is justice for all of us. I pray to God he wins.

Oh Anon, I'm so glad you managed to get out of that relationship. Reading this actually made me a little emotional as it made me think of the long, difficult journey my family & I had to go on to get my brother out of his relationship.

It truly baffles me that people are so reluctant to even entertain the idea that men can be abused by women. That women have the physical strength and the determination to do that to a man. I'll go to my grave holding a grudge against the woman that abused my brother. That's why it's so important to acknowledge that it does happen, it does carry just as much weight as the case of a female victim. Abuse has no gender, and all victims deserve justice.

If I could give you a hug, I would. Thank you for being brave enough to share this 💖 x

#Johnny Depp #Amber Heard #Depp vs Heard #Johnny Depp vs Amber Heard #Johnny Depp v Amber Heard

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alena-reblobs · 10 months

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Trigun Bookclub Trimax Vol8 Part1

Vol01: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Vol02: Part 1 | Part 2

Trimax: Vol01 Part 1 Vol01 Part 2 | Vol02 Part 1 Vol02 Part 2 |

Vol06 | Vol07 | Vol08 Part1

As a warning, I will start babbling about Vashwood in this volume (though not really in this part yet) and then probably in all volumes to come, too. Obviously because I love the pairing but also because their relationship is so important and impactful, and this volume marks such an important milestone.

What I really like in Vash and the talk between him and Knives at the start of Chapter 1 is, that Vash also acknowledges the pain and abuse that humans have inflicted upon the Plants. He totally understands Knive's anger and why he acts that way, but the kind sides of the humans that Vash was witness to as well, Knives never got the chance to learn. And if you'd try to show kindness to him now, he wouldn't appreciate or even see it.

Not the face of someone who's happy to be back with his old crew obviously. (Sometimes some drawings of Wolfwood make him look so much less bulky and more fragile and like the tiny Wolfwood, like here on the right...maybe because we can't see these huge shoulders. I like that!)

Still trying to live by Vash's and now his ideals, even though there's no way these soldiers are gonna get back out of this alive anyway...and how he stubbornly doesn't answer Chapel...(Meanwhile Livio is thinking "Nice! Free banquet! *continues to slaughter the men*)

Oh my boy you've come such a long way :'(

The whole rest of the talk between Knives and Vash at the end of ch1 was a great character insight, and next to what lots of other people already said I wouldn't know what to add to that. So I'm just choosing to save these panels here, sums it up pretty nicely and we get to see the two brothers in a nice comparison!

Chapter 2:

Please take my boy out of this situation. He clearly doesn't want to be there. (the way Wolfwood looks so much not-in-control of the situation....oh man)

Make a pirouette, and I'll give you a 10/10 for this jump, Knives.

If some had not been aware until now, at this point at the latest everybody will have noticed that Nightow doesn't fuck around with depicting some traumatic and cruel stuff. (And boy does he know how to do it)

There are so many awesome pages in these later volumes that I'm basically just copying whole pages in these posts here but HOLY COW doesn't this look epic.

And the whole time, Vash is unable to do anything. At least he's giving Legato a hard time, too.

That above panel damn. And look how it's killing Wolfwood internally. He's seeing all those evil deeds done by the arc, helping alongside Chapel now too, probably, and then he's already got the guild of bringing Vash here to get him trapped....all just because he wants to save his home and the kids there but BOY is it killing him inside. It sucks when you have to be the bad guy to save the ones you care about.

Also, the turn the story takes at this point, with everything falling into chaos so quickly...it's gotten very quickly so much darker now. I do like dark stories too so I was enjoying this with anticipation how it could get resolved when I read this for the first time. Still, very tough stuff to digest.

And then, of course, omg these girls appear again!!! You go!!! However you managed to survive, you're looking well. I'm also glad Luida is still here too ♥

Chapter 3:

If I'm ever in need for a mechanic and had to choose from the Trigun cast you know I'd go for Brad. Look how crafty he looks with that..drill...thingy. Leaking faucets, here's your mortal enemy!

THANK YOU Luida. Yes, Vash has dangerous powers, but he's also Vash and you all owe him so much!! Not letting some fear prevent you from trusting in him!

Wolfwood awoooing at the moon, just like his name says. Also, this was the scene where the plants memories are being shown, and I love that we actually get to see something from their view! The way it's done, with only same-size panels from the same view is also the perfect way to make that clear.

Super neat way to show how all these different memories and plant consciousnesses (?) are breaking him apart

Please look at our queen in all her murderous glory.

oh god oh god oh god (I'm reading this for the 12234th time but still)

oh god OH YES

#trigun #trigunbookclub

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simpinggforeverything · 1 year

Text

Despair

Loki x reader

Summary: Everything you have ever known changed for the worse over the time and you couldn't stop it. Even if you wanted to, you simply couldn't muster the strength to help yourself anymore. Just as you were starting to fall into a dark abyss, a rescuing hand reached for yours.

Warnings: mentions of self destructive behavior/scars, depression, angst/comfort

Words: 1k

Despair. That was pretty much everything I felt at the moment. And one thing was for sure, it would be really hard to survive if it won't change anytime soon. Everyday I hoped for this change but it never seemed to come and I really had no idea how to keep going like this.

At some point I simply accepted the pain, knowing I could do nothing against it anyways. So I continued living like before and tried to hide my emotions as best as I could.

To be honest this pain, a constant companion of mine, started to comfort me in a weird way. I had felt it for such a long time now, it was hard to imagine life being different.

I was currently lying in bed, staring at the ceiling while listening to some music. Silent tears were running down my cheeks, leaving a few stains on my shirt. What happened? What happend that caused me to end up in such a terrible state? I had no idea but whatever it was, I didn't really care anymore.

Though it hadn't been always like this because at first I did, I truly did. It bothered me to know I was slowly losing myself without being able to stop it, simply being too exhausted. I felt all kind of emotions at once, overwhelming me with every minute that passed. Until the moment I decided to do something.

Believe me when I say I want nothing more than to tell you I did it. I managed to help myself and got out of this but I can't. Actually I made it all worse and as proof I had my scars.

I wasn't proud of it but it was too late because over the time I slowly got addicted and now...now it was hard to get back to my old self. And to be honest I had no idea if I really wanted that anymore.

As I looked down, the sight of the constant reminder what I did to myself, caught my eye. I was glad I was alone. I wouldn't want anyone to see them. I wouldn't want to explain myself to someone or tell them why I did it and I simply wouldn't want someone trying to comfort me. I could do this alone..at least that's what I told myself.

Lost in thoughts I didn't notice any of the new messages popping up on my phone and with them also some missed calls. Maybe the music I was listening to was also a reason why I didn't notice. Whenever I felt bad I could always rely on music. It comforted me and was always here when I needed it.

I had no idea how much time had passed until I heard a few knocks on my door. I didn't move. Appearantly the person on the other side of the door didn't intend to stop and just kept on knocking. "Y/n?" I heard someone say my name but kept on ignoring the person, too overstrained with everything going on at the moment.

"Y/n, please open the door!" I heard the voice again but still didn't move. Then it was quiet. Nothing was audible for a few seconds until I heard the door slowly open. It didn't take long until the person was by my side, kneeling on the ground beside me. "Oh god, Y/n!" I heard the voice again and instantly knew who it belonged to. Loki.

I felt a hand on mine now. It touched mine softly, telling me with this gesture it would be gone whenever I wanted it, while still being here comforting me. I appreciated that a lot, especially right now.

Noticing I didn't do anything about it, another hand placed itself on me pulling me slowly closer. "I'm here, y/n. You're not alone." Even though I couldn't really show it right now, these words meant a lot to me and Loki acknowledged that.

He tenderly lifted my chin making me look up. Seeing these beautiful eyes made me feel a bit better, he always made me feel better. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" Loki's voice reached my ear and I simply shook my head. Nodding slowly he showed me it was okay and gave me a small smile.

Though it disappeared quickly after seeing what I tried to hide for so long.. "Y/n..." I heard him whisper quietly, obviously feeling bad because of letting me go through all of this alone.

"It's okay" I whispered, giving Loki a reassuring smile. "It's okay.." I said again but this time more to calm myself than him. Just staring down I felt my cheeks getting wet again from a few tears that fell down. What had I done? This question would probably never leave my mind...

Completely focused on what was in front of my eyes I didn't see Loki moving at first. But when I felt two arms pulling me close into a hug, I looked up again. His eyes were also a bit teary but no tears escaped them, wanting to be here for me without trying to worry me even more.

"I'm here for you, y/n and I won't leave your side if that's what you want me to do. I'll stay with you." He looked me in the eyes, never daring to break our eye contact. "I'll stay with you, I promise." A small smile spread on Loki's face, making me feel safe for the moment and placed his chin on my head.

Although the situation had been quite unbearable I was happy I wasn't alone. I had no idea why he was still here with me but one thing was for sure. Loki kept his promise and stayed with me.

#loki laufesyon x reader #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #light angst #depresjon #self destructive behavior #protective #taking care of me #marvel #loki x you #oneshot #comfort #affection

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arnaerr · 1 year

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hey there, I just wanted to send a message of support and say your art is awesome - I hope you will start feeling better soon and can get back to doing what you love. I had radial tunnel syndrome for a while and ended up having surgery last year. it sucks having to deal with all of that stuff (drs, tests, PT, ugh) and be in pain for so many years. sending you my best wishes 💗✨

Thank you so much for the support and kind words, it means a lot! I hope that the surgery helped you and you're feeling far better by now ❤️

Being in pain IS tiring, and I'm glad that I learned to... acknowledge that and be kinder to myself. And overall, I think that I'm dealing with it much better than years ago :) also, some people with the same syndrome reached out to me and we talked a bit about the surgery - and now I feel much calmer that there IS a solution. Because earlier, it was very difficult for me to deal with anxiety when thinking about possible post-surgery recovery, I thought that it takes much more time, I will lose my job, etc.

Anyway. I think it's important to talk about this stuff as an artist, so I'm more determined to share the details on my progress now. During the last couple of years, I managed to find a way to draw without hurting my hand more, and adjusted my everyday tasks to avoid it as well. But I'm very fond of handicrafts and started going to weaving classes, which suddenly worsened my condition. So no weaving 😔

End of the rambling haha. Thank you again 💗

#thisdarkenedsea #ask

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hardpacker · 9 months

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there is a lot of frustration and anxiety and retroactive grieving that comes with it but i am really glad that i eventually pursued reading and learning and talking more (like with therapists mainly but also some good people in my life) about being autistic. it was mostly out of anka suggesting it to me a few times but i was really unsure for a while. now my therapists and even my doctor (kind of) are talking to me more about it and figuring out what kind of help i know i need and ideas for what could be useful...

it really sucks, but it makes so much sense to me now why in may 2020, sooner than the year or year and a half it took for a lot of other people, i could acutely tell something was Seriously Going Wrong with my brain, grasping at words, not being able to access what should have been vivid since my memory is apparently quite good-- with all my real life connections and contexts and activities halted. and why recovery time is so much slower and the burnout, the becoming sluggish, not being able to speak and further information feeling painful, is so much worse now... but also, it's not new. it's happened before. it happened all through college and i had no idea that's what was doing it. and life was different, i didn't have as much time to reflect, i knew less about myself to be able to connect the dots in any kind of informative way, much less try to tell other people about it.

it feels like something is unlocked in a profound way, way way way different than being told to go on one antidepressant after another and getting sick each time. now i'm on a different kind of medication to help manage distress and there isn't any sickness at all. i'm summing this up extremely quickly because i have things to do, but it just clicks so solidly, decisively. i know what would really benefit me is patience and understanding me in good faith. i think i'm a pretty consistent person. i think i try to maintain a whole, well-rounded view of people, even if part of that is because some things i just can't forget (and worrying if i'm remembering "the right things") and even if i can't expect other people to hold me in their mind like that... i'd at least like to be received with even some of this in mind.

it bummed me out when friends drifted away when things didn't suddenly get better for me. it bums me out to see that happening to other people too. maybe it comes off as creepy/inappropriate to still feel strongly about someone based on what i think are foundational friendship components or interactions, if whatever it is that brought us together still seems intact to me, maybe i can't pick up on what they view as the separation-- lack of frequent talking, not picking up new shared interests? my feelings were hurt recently when only a couple people congratulated me on the Ignatz nomination or all the comics i've done recently, because i thought those were things other people were passionate about too, or at the very least, required little emotional depth to acknowledge. i feel really bad when i miss a milestone in people's lives, and maybe the fact is that i haven't had the same milestones to share. but isn't that normal...? idk. i feel like i do reach out to people but maybe it's not in the same ways that they value. i'd like to be given a chance. or maybe i just need to find people who i don't have to chase. i think it's both? i need to better understand what other people like but i also think the internet is no way to do this. everyone is extremely keyed up and defensive and you can rewrite a person at will.

i'm still confused and increasingly weirded out about T cutting me off, if just that i did try to bring it up more directly and understand her feelings, but maybe directness is misread by other people, maybe it's just not that common. in remembering other weird misunderstandings or unsettling, confusing interactions with people, or my default mode of appeasement/dissociation (which i'm doing my best to quit) i can take some of the blame off myself. the blame isn't autism's, either. this actually makes it easier to just be like, yknow, the other person DID act out of pocket about this. this stuff WAS kind of nothing and yes it COULD have been handled differently. but i also am not good at remaining in 1 fandom, placating anybody for all that long, keeping quiet, toeing whatever social line i'm "supposed to", and i know i have a hard time shaking off my values or like, morals?, even if it'd serve me better-- i'd like to be more flexible, while also being consistent, which is something really important to me in terms of how i'm read by other people. like nothing coming out of left field. but understanding other people may not have the perspective i do.

and that should be okay so long as it isn't actually hurtful. like everyone is different people. i agree with my friends more than i don't (makes sense) but i can't think of a situation where in a disagreement, my intent was to HURT, rather than express confusion/upset/anger. you can't ask questions online without sounding challenging, even if that same question can be expressed in real life with no problem. but i'm wondering if people more often remember how you made them feel, not the details within or surrounding it. and that's something to balance. i tend to be more critical of myself than other people, and default to an assumption of good intent first, but that's ALSO a good way to ignore important signs. and avoid the simple answer to "why would this person want to hurt me?" which might be "they don't care about you and they wanted to." i don't want to be a fucking pushover.

i might not know the "right" way to talk to people, but i know 100% that i do try, and in my adult life especially, have always tried. and i hope continuing to do that will yield a sense of comfort, ease, stability that i've been longing for since connections to other friends have become tenuous these past few years. my ideal is being comfortable in a group of people and not being scared of saying something wrong or having ~weird~ interests or expressing them in a weird way. i think this is also why trying to suck all the "ill-fitting" interests or aspects of things i like/myself, my comforts, my art, gender, sexuality, dress, everything, never worked-- i can't cultivate some kind of scene-based personality, i can't become a different person just because it'd be easier to navigate the world that way. it's not going to happen. and i guess that needs to be alright.

it is mournful to think about how like... even if my parents or schools had known, there's no way i would've been treated any better. it wouldn't have amounted to anything. i would've been bullied and abused more, if anything, or it would be the exact same as it is now-- maybe they would've never told me. so i can't even imagine a life where this would've offered some sense of freedom before now, but maybe i could've learned to be less expectant of myself faster. god i just remembering being so overwhelmed needing to lie down in the dark for a while. drawing in class was the best way to remember any of the information because it was tied to an action, which then grounded me in a time and place, and everything else fills in around it, the memory is built from the minute and outward. the missing spaces in memory are what's most unsettling because they're so exceptional to me. and thinking with shaky confidence starting around 5th grade like "i must be acting like everyone else, right?" even though the cold and irritated way with which people handled me pointed at something else. feeling wickedly ill at-ease basically my entire life, just uncomfortable, sick to my stomach, stressed, bearing all of that in mind. trying over and over. ugh. really frustrating, really sad. so many kids grow up like this.

AND MY FUCKING... ALLERGIES AND SENSITIVITIES AND AUTOIMMUNE DISORDER AND MY MAST CELL SHIT........................................ LIKE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK okay

i don't have a good closer to this sorry lol

#my writing #actually autistic

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