#like i've seen it to where people are like 'dont call yourself a victim of [horroble abuse]! you're a SURVIVOR'

[uncanny-tranny]

One conversation I remember people having about people who have endured abuse or trauma is the use of survivor versus victim language, and I think a lot of people have misconceptions about the "right" language to use.

I think a lot of people have this idea that using victim language (e.g., "I was/am a victim of abuse") can send the message that you're perpetually a victim, and that because of that, it is "bad language." However, I think it's more accurate to conceptualize it more so as putting responsibility onto the people who harmed them. Framing yourself as a survivor can feel final and permanent, and some of us aren't ready for that level of definitiveness.

I think we need more acceptance of peoples conception of their experiences. It's okay to say that you were/are a victim, just as it's okay to say you are a survivor. The idea of being a "good" victim/survivor is damaging, and it's harmful to us. It puts the onus on us to think about everybody else's comfort but our own about our own damn trauma

#mental health #mental health advocacy #trauma #abuse #abuse tw #i think we ought to accept where people are currently at in terms of healing pr growth or recovery... #...and that means not idealizing where you think they should be... #...and that includes the language people use to describe themselves and their traumas #victim language is perfectly acceptable because sometimes... you /are/ a victim #and that doesn't feel good to think about but that doesnt make it less worthy of recognition #maybe i look too into this as like... 'not one of the good' trauma endurers #i just hate that some people have taken those discussions to police the language victims and survivors alike use #like i've seen it to where people are like 'dont call yourself a victim of [horroble abuse]! you're a SURVIVOR' #and they do it to i guess encourage us? but it feels condescending and cruel and profoundly crass #ask to tag (genuine)

[bonesandthebees]

idk if this is rude or if i should even be bothering you with this ask but you seem to be answering asks sharing the same sentiment i have so i just had to get my thoughts out. Obviously we should focus on shelby, its HER story and no one elses. But everyone and their mother has already said that ten times over, so i think i should be able to say that i especially feel bad for the fans here. I was never really a big fan of him (i did watch a lot of his youtube/soothouse but never cared much regardless) but its really sad to see how hundreds of people (many of which are teenagers, may i add) that suddenly have to deal with this, all the fanworks, merchandise, and good memories that are now going to make people feel miserable is what really makes me sad. I've seen people on twitter be distraught over the whole ordeal and the replies will accuse them of 'making it about themselves', and like... is it really such a huge crime??? to feel personally hurt?? They say 'you just shouldnt idolize people' but i dont think they understand, really. I think people should be allowed to express how they were hurt by it as well without being called selfish because 'its not about them', when it IS. its about shelby first and foremost but that does not mean its not about everyone else. And it just feels really disheartening to see people have such a Holier Than Thou complex about it. Im a coward for sending this as anon to some random tumblr blog but i hope you understand.

yeah I really dislike the attitude some people are taking where they're making fun of fans or berating them for being upset. this was a thriving community we'd been maintaining for years at this point. so many people, myself included, have formed incredibly close friendships because of the community. we're allowed to grieve that. we're also fully allowed to grieve for the fact that a person we all looked up to turned out to be completely different from how he presented himself online.

as long as we're making sure to continue discussing the victims of the pain he's caused (shelby, but also rhianna, sophie, niki, rue) then there's nothing wrong with also expressing our own pain and grief. you can support victims and also be upset for yourself and the community. the two can coexist. so many of us have lost a huge aspect of our lives.

just ignore those people. the community is all here to support each other. just focus on that

#ask #anon #wilbur situation

[heyyallitsbeth]

Trigger warning for self harm, eating disorder and suicide references Okay I've seen some serious stuff an uncomfortable amount in the past few weeks so i need to talk about this. A lot of men have been opening up about loneliness and this recent exposure of it has been called the "male loneliness epidemic". and ive seen a concerning amount of people talking about how its just men making themselves victims, or how theyre just incels. And guys. Guys.

Men can be victims of toxic masculinity.

The facts are, men are far more likely to commit suicide than women, as well as develop drug addictions and alcoholism. Men on average also have smaller friend groups than women. And this all stems from toxic masculinity, bottling up emotions, not being able to open yourself up to others, to make those connections and develop healthy coping mechanisms. People end up turning to drugs and self harm as a result, since they think nobody will care. And why wouldnt they think that? Society has drilled it into their heads since birth. Men are always told to tough it out, to suck it up, that tears are weakness, that boys dont cry.

I'm a trans woman, I remember distinctly all of these phrases repeated by adults, teachers, parents, friends. It's especially worse in western society like the UK and US where physical affection like hugs are far more uncommon, especially for men. I first experienced depression when i was in middle school. And despite trying to talk to parents and counselors, my condition wasn't taken seriously until I eventually had a full breakdown and passed out from not eating in highschool. Personally, I am very lucky. Two friends were able to saved me from a suicide attempt by calling me and talking me down in time. And I only reconnected with that friend due to my transition. We were able to reconcile about arguments in the past and moved forward becoming good friends. The other friend I only met because of my transition. My friend group grew when I was a girl, it was easier to be open and honest. If I was in the same spot only a few years prior, I would have been dead.

And people are making fun of these guys for opening up like this now, saying everyone is lonely, that its not a uniquely male experience. Like you do realize you are QUITE LITERALLY proving to them what they've feared, that nobody cares. And people are always saying "oh this is a trend why is this the first time people are talking about this". Maybe its because we just went through a period of isolation and that time locked in their rooms caused a spiral of depression that made them reflect on their lives? Maybe because as a whole we are experiencing a mental health crisis worldwide? Maybe because through the modern internet we've never been more connected than now?

Yes men have privileges, that doesnt mean that they dont struggle and have issues too. Their opportunities and privileges do not negate their struggles. Toxic systems hurt everyone.

Personally, I'm now doing better, although sometimes I do slip into that deep depression, but I have better ways of fighting it now. And I'm lucky to have some friends who I know truly do care, as well as a loving partner. And while they dont follow me on tumblr, I just wanted to say, Thank You to Evan and Shi.

#male loneliness #male loneliness epidemic #depression

[the-jesus-pill]

wanted to share an experience i had as an ex christian, probably apostate? idk man i was complaining in a friend's server because a christian friend of mine has been repetitively excluding me from things simply because i am not a christian, and because im queer and trans, and then is upset when i don't really feel like inviting her to stuff. i referred to christianity as a joke, and my friend who owns the server i was complaining in deleted my messages and dmed me to inform me i "complain about christianity too much and i'm probably hurting people's feelings and i need to stop it now" (it had been 3 months since i last complained about christianity in that server) i have had multiple people come to me and tell me i can't hate christianity, despite the fact that i am a victim of abuse, mental and physical, in the church, despite the fact that i have religious trauma. apparently, their right to religion means i can't dislike them? i dunno i was told i "cannot call christianity a joke", and then earlier this morning i witnessed a 12 year old child asking a bunch of older christians for forgiveness for being "selfish" enough to ask for prayer for themselves. if christianity is not the biggest joke i've ever seen, i dont know what is.

Yikes, that's awful. I'm sorry that happened to you. The friend of yours who is excluding you based on your (lack of ) beliefs and queerness? She's not a friend at all. I suppose she's not very fond of the 'do unto others' rule either.

Regardless, you have the right to dislike christianity, especially after having lived through it. Your feelings, your trauma is valid and no one gets to tell you otherwise.

Unfortunately a lot of outsiders (read: people who have never been too close to the religion) don't get what the fuss is about. Most of them see christians as these benevolent, charity-working, praying saints whose biggest flaws are perhaps being a little too prude sometimes and they will fail to understand the amount of lies, gaslighting and manipulation that comes with their beliefs.

In their eyes, christians did nothing wrong and hating on them is "unfair" or "uncalled for".

Sometimes it's just willful ignorance.

I would reconsider putting yourself in a space where people have continuously invalidated your feelings, or at least distance yourself emotionally from them. Of course the choice is up to you in the end, but I advise to think about your mental health. It's better to have fewer friends or work on finding new ones than having friends who refuse to take you seriously or stand up for you.

I hope it works out for you anon! There will always be better people out there who will support and love you the way you are!

#felix speaks #asks #anonymous #exchristian #apostate #religious fuckery

[felgueirosa]

ive said this before but its such a problem for fat liberation that skinny people are completely unable to see themselves as skinny and instead see themselves as 'normal'. even if they dont say they are normal or fat, they just refuse to be considered skinny. but if you are skinny then what am i?

when you call a skinny person skinny they constantly deny their skinniness and deny the power they have over fat people.

they make it completely impossible to have conversations about fat liberation and oppression because they are unable to see themselves as the perpetrator and often also see themselves as a victim.

its a mindset that exists in so many other circumstances but ive never seen it so deeply engrained anywhere like with skinny people.

yes you experience some of the negative consequences of fatphobia but it is unparalleled to that of a fat person, like straight people can experience negative consequences of homophobia but that does not make them gay or the victims of a homophobic society.

refusing to see yourself as skinny or seeing yourself as normal does not make you an ally it does not make you a victim. straight people see themselves as normal, white people see themselves as normal. but i've never seen in any case where so many so-called allies of fat people refuse to see themselves as skinny and think it is not extremely detrimental to fat liberation. like as a gay indigenous person, good fucking lord

#an obviously it feeds into the idea that a white cis straight skinny body is a normal one #!!!!! #straight people arent falling over themselves to classify themselves as gay #and yet here are skinny people theyre normal or theyre fat #my sister who didnt know what a stretch mark is bc shes so skinny thinks shes not skinny! #ok to rb

[illusiveman]

hey saying "we should oppress these people" in reference to people with a very real, extremely medically recognized, very difficult to quit Addiction is...... kinda rude! people with addictions already are oppressed by nature of us having a very debilitation mental health problem, and people (like yourself) who think that a fraction of us being obnoxious in public means we dont deserve any sympathy for being victims of really well-funded ad campaigns designed to pray on vulnerable populations. direct your anger at vape manufacturers, not those of us who are suffering MORE at their hands :)

Bad wording. What I mean is these people that are vaping everywhere (in buildings especially) need to be called out by the public. If someone lit up a cigarette inside they would be told off so quickly. I don't think ive ever even seen someone light up a smoke inside. People vape in your face and.... nothing happens. I've watched people blow fat clouds inside so many times and the most that happens is hey don't do that. Then they immediately vape again where you cant see. I've been around people that whip out their vape inside and then have a look of horror because they truly did not realize what they were doing until they already did it. It's insane. Idc if you are vaping respectfully but people vaping where they shouldn't need called out each time it happens until we have a culture like smoking where it's unthinkable to vape anywhere you want.

Random other tangent: we need more addiction counseling that isn't religious. I didn't even know this until more recently that the "anonymous" groups (AA, NA, etc) are rooted in Christianity. The base of it is admitting you are "powerless" to addiction and need a higher power to help you. Anyways

#i just am bewildered with how boldy people vape sometimes

[wh6res]

dreams come true | yuta

"soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks." — ny

[ part of the my bloody valentine collection ]

tw. gore, blood, murder, death, killings, mentions of illegal organ trafficking, violence, mentions of stalking, minor character deaths, weapons (a knife and a gun), almost (??) suggestive content but nothing happened

disc. this is rlly fucked up and yuta is unredeemable. i dont condone such acts. this is all a work of fiction and meant to entertain.

wc. 5k

every time you sleep, the void is sickening. it was all you could see, lightyears and lightyears away of pitch black that made your head dizzy and your stomach dry heave. you've always wondered when you'll start dreaming about your soulmate's memories. they were like little secrets, another way for two people to be intimate without even being together. their days were flashing before their soulmate's eyes in the form of a dream. it's as if you spent the day with them!

you loved it, the whole concept of it. it sounded so wholesome and sweet and jesus fucking christ, you've always been such a hopeless romantic.

it was sweet until it turned sour. you loved it until you hated it. it was romantic until it turned downright terrifying.

you wake up covered in cold sweat, panting and gasping as if you've run a whole marathon.

moonlight seeps through your glass window, slightly left ajar for the midnight breeze to pass through – you walk up to it, pull it shut, and draw your thick curtains together. you exhaled, breath shaking as you tried to anchor yourself back to the ground.

with the only source of your light disappearing, darkness envelops you whole. for once, you craved the void. you want that void back if it meant never seeing something like that again – something straight out of your worst nightmare.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"uhm, i think… i think i just witnessed a massacre."

you reiterate everything you saw in the dream – the mahogany door, paint chipping off the drywalls. the doorknob was rusty, so were the hinges, and it made an ominous creak when pushed open. the light switches on, the first you see was a bunch of dirty ice coolers in what should've been the living room, it wasn't even the slightest bit organized. they were everywhere, and the floor looked grimy and disgusting, like there's a stain they can't seem to scrub off. only when your soulmate has stalked closer did you see the labels haphazardly taped on top of the ice coolers.

kidneys. livers. lungs. pancreas. intestines – you nearly vomited on the floor, trying to relay everything you saw to the operator on the other end of the call.

then came the gruesome parts.

their deaths.

they were five people in total. men clad in cheap t-shirts and pants, wearing all these similar leather jackets. some were well-built, ripped in the arms and thighs, but some were skinny, the jackets hanging on their small frames.

they never stood a chance against him.

your soulmate is agile, quick on his feet with outstanding eye-hand coordination. only equipped with a butcher's knife, but it was all he needed to take them down and send them knocking on inferno's gates. he was skilled, knowing when to pounce and where to slash his knife to maim but never to kill. by the time your soulmate was through with them, everything is bloody red. all the victims' eyes widened as they sputtered and choked on their blood – not dead, but dying...

because your soulmate wasn't done yet.

a killer should have a modus operandi, should they not? so he took out a desert eagle, stood before the bleeding bodies, and shot two bullets straight into their eyes. the finishing touch? carving a frown on their faces with his butcher's knife.

the operator only told you one thing after she's made you describe the place for them to track the crime scene down.

"double-check all your windows and doors."

because you couldn't be too sure, not when you have been granted a front seat to the sad face slayer's most recent endeavors.

the detective eyes you with a certain pity. maybe that's why you don't bother meeting his eyes. you sit still on a chair, camera blinking red behind him, the interrogation room is freezing even with the thick jacket you're wearing.

seven billion people in the world and you're soulmate's a ruthless serial killer who took it upon himself to purge the world of evildoers – he was playing god, no wonder the detective is looking at you like that.

"uhh…" he's awkward, fidgeting in his seat. "and you saw this all in a dream?"

"yes."

you've known him only minutes ago. mark lee was his name and he seems to be a subordinate of a higher, more experienced detective named kim doyoung. you don't know whether to feel offended or not for having a doe-eyed newbie taking care of the case, but you pushed it at the back of your mind, knowing his superior is watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"did you have, like, other past instances where you dreamt of him? of what he…" mark looked like he was going to throw up. "what he does to his other victims?"

you shook your head. no. "i've mostly just heard of him on the news. i don't think i have the stomach to find out in-depth what the killer does."

mark takes out a folder, features walking the fine white line between looking apologetic or wanting to say me too. "i'm, uhh, really sorry to hear that."

there's a sudden pregnant silence encapsulating the interrogation room. it felt like you were mourning for something, the chains of dread dragging your heart to the ground as it pounded against your ribcage. mark looked like he wanted to say something, but you swore his eyes darted towards the camera in the corner and decided otherwise.

"anyway…" he trails. flipping the folder open in one swift motion. "past sightings have given us the sad face slayer's name."

he slaps down a picture of a man, his hair raven and a permanent scowl etched on his face. the quality was shitty. it looked like it was a screenshot taken from zoomed-in cctv footage.

"nakamoto yuta, twenty-five, japanese, and has slipped one too many times past authorities that at this point, it's practically a talent."

and just like that, it made sense why you're here.

your lips pursed in contemplation, palms quaking as your fingers reach forward to inspect your soulmate's picture. "and… you want to use my soulmate connection –" you glowered. never had a sentence sounded so fucking cursed and utterly wrong. "– to catch him?"

mark can't look you in the eye. "yes. he's very elusive. his killings have been happening cross-country and, as you can see, have garnered national media attention. the police are hanging by a thread here. a month in his case and all we got is his MO, name, and that he has this weird god complex on him. if we can't catch him by the end of next month…" he shrugs. "the feds are going to interfere, sooner or later."

"so…" you trail, urging him to continue.

"so, we need as much information about him as we can get and your dreams about him will be able to provide that."

fucking great.

the much newer revelations of precisely who it was on the other end of the soulmate connection put a significant damper on your mood. you'd like to think your new little cop buddy who follows you around gives you the least bit sense of security, but alas, it doesn't. not when you've seen first hand how yuta took down five men all at once without breaking a fucking sweat – you absolutely refuse to call him your soulmate, you'd never accept a person with his nature as a soulmate.

you try to hide the bracelet mark handed you last two weeks ago, during your time spent in the precinct's interrogation room.

"please have this on you at all times until we catch him, okay? this is for extra measures, just in case something happens to the cop assigned to guard you. just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?"

considering you're now probably being hunted alive for snitching on a serial killer? mark lee, that was not funny at all.

"do you have to get inside the lecture with me?" you whine, shielding your face with your hair when you notice people shooting glances at the rather handsome cop they assigned to you. "it's not like he'll attack in broad daylight! and in a fucking classroom, for that matter."

jaehyun looks just about ready to hurl you out the window. "lower down your voice," he scolds. "serial killers don't pick a time and place, sweetheart. he kills when necessary and if it's fucking necessary to murder everyone in that classroom to get to you? he'll do it in a fucking heartbeat."

you sigh when the chair next to you screeches against the floor, the aforementioned male taking his seat right next to you. jaehyun felt more like a babysitter than a cop, who seems to have a habit of constantly inputting his not-even-needed opinions on the most superficial things.

are witness protection protocols like this?

it was a good thing that overgrown bat doesn't come hanging around in your apartment, but he does have the police car parked right across the building's entrance. judging by how meticulous and thorough he seems to be, he won't miss any face that comes in and out of the building.

you didn't forget exactly why you're under witness protection. for the cops to waste one good officer to follow you around, you needed to be valuable and being valuable meant sleeping through nightmare-induced dreams of what your soulmate does for a living. the scenes are so gruesome, so graphic and utterly gory, that you dart towards the bathroom first thing after waking up in cold sweat, draining all of dinner down the toilet bowl.

after dreaming of him in action a few times, you've now completely understood what detective lee had said regarding yuta's god complex. it was unsightly, yet there was a twisted sense of heroism to it. if there's one thing, he only gutted the bad guys – but that didn't make nakamoto yuta any less of a bad guy, himself.

i need to ask you a favor [sent 2:05am]

JJH: what? [received 2:10am]

often the nightmares were too much. too much that you thought of escaping its horrors by never getting a wink of sleep ever again – until you realized you're a witness and is probably the only chance for the seoul police department to catch that bastard.

buy me sleeping pills? [read 2:08am]

when you peep out of the window, you find an empty spot across the road where jaehyun usually parks the police car. twenty minutes later, you answer the knocking on your door. he used that little "code" he did for you to know it was him. jaehyun was glowering and muttering about how he wasn't some errand boy when he shoved the plastic bottle in your hand yet, you still thanked him nonetheless.

the pills worked like a charm. you managed to stay asleep throughout the whole night, ceasing those episodes of yours where you jolt awake in the middle of dreaming about the sad face slayer's memories.

life continued for you. it became a little bearable, but that didn't mean the horrific murders you see in your dreams are something you can get used to – you don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of him slashing his victims, the blood trickling like a goddamned waterfall.

today the dreams were different. anticlimactic, per se, if you compare it to the violence so utterly present in his memories.

the first you see were black gates, then it shifted to him ordering coffee in a café (amazing what a simple black mask can hide). it switched to him walking on a sidewalk, then he arrives at his destination, an apartment building – it wasn't too rundown, nor was it extravagant.

the serial killer takes the elevator and walks up to a mahogany door –

your room number is a blaring sight.

you couldn't be wrong, not when the 506 with the missing zero in the middle was a sight you saw every day, going and coming home from university.

that was your front door.

he was at your front door.

you jolt awake, ignoring the icky feel of sweat making your clothes cling onto your skin. ice creeps up your spine and freezes you over when you notice with a sinking realization.

those black gates are from the university you attended. that café is your favorite study nook. and that sidewalk is a route you take every day.

you clamp your hands on your mouth as tears roll down your cheeks in rivulets. you pull the comforters up above your head, fear gripping onto you with a vice-like grip as you sob.

it was in the dead of night, moonlight grazing the confines of your room and hours away from dusk. you finally utter those three words in a frightened whisper.

"he's stalking me."

as if having the overgrown bat jaehyun following and annoying you around wasn't enough, you now have another person keeping watch over you. mark lee, unlike jaehyun, may not be as ripped with muscle, but you heard from your cop buddy that the young detective has a few black belts under him. people at the precinct said that if they have to choose one person who can ever come close to the sad face slayer's agility, mark lee's your guy.

"you gotta be shitting me," you mutter, leaning close to jaehyun to whisper like high school girls talking about gossip. "he doesn't look the type!"

jaehyun, in turn, plays along and copies you. "yeah, true. he gets that a lot, i think,"

"guys, i'm literally in the back seat. i can hear everything."

the change hadn't been too drastic. at least mark was there when jaehyun proved to be difficult, pulling him towards the other way when the older male tried waltzing into your class again. "you don't need to sit next to her in her class! are you serious? there's one exit and entrance and we're on the fifth floor. breaking into that classroom will be the end of nakamoto's serial killer career!"

you shoot mark an appreciative smile, one he quickly returned before hauling jaehyun around the hallway. "we'll just be at the canteen, okay? press the 'lil button on your bracelet and we'll be right there!"

shaking your head with a slight smile on your face, you entered the classroom, sat in your usual spot, and did some of your readings from our other class to kill time. you hardly hear the screech of the chair next to you as it was pulled back. not like you cared much for whoever sat down next to you, but you can't deny there's that feeling of missing jaehyun when he used to force his way into the lecture.

"settle down! settle down, people!"

the professor enters and the class begins.

you were meticulous with your note-taking system. it's thorough, leaving no room for information to slip you. having already printed hard copies of the powerpoint presentation and simply jotting down some extra key points mentioned by your professor.

you were just about to raise your hand for a question when you feel something warm graze past your arm. you absentmindedly look down.

the breath is sucked right out of your lungs.

hi, soulmate

there, scribbled with an ominous red crayon on a small piece of paper. it was almost laughable how innocent it looked but when you follow the ring-clad hand, up the black hoodie he's wearing, and finally to his face—

"hi! i'm yuta."

his cheshire smile spikes up your heartbeat. it makes you want to throw up, makes you want to slam your head against the desk. the fight or flight hormone you have is making you restless, eyes pinned on the serial killer sitting next to you, scared that if you avert your gaze, he's going to take out that desert eagle and shoot you until your skull caves in and the bullets in his magazine empties.

"but judging by your reaction, i don't think introductions are needed, hm?" his tone is easy, conversational even and it shoots a freezing jolt of fear right up your spine. it makes you sweat profusely because you don't fucking know what to do, your thoughts in complete and utter disarray.

"just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?" you swallow, sneakily pressing the button without breaking eye contact with the serial killer sitting in front of you.

"look upfront. now." yuta orders and you nearly snap your neck as you turn your head with lightning speed.

"i thought i was above the soulmate rules, but here we are. my soul is either too tainted or too great to be tied to such trivial things, but oh well, we learn to work with what we have. surprisingly, i learned to like dreaming about how your day went."

you feel something sharp poking at your thigh and when you look down, he has a silver butterfly knife pointed against you. the precision of the angle he held it with doesn't slip your notice. one slice of that knife, no matter how small, and he'll be spilling your guts in this classroom.

a fat tear rolls down your face.

"can you imagine how much my heart broke when i learned you were spying on me? leaking information to that snobby detective? to those incompetent cops? bad baby, that was very bad of you."

"yuta—"

"you think the cops can save you from me?"

his other hand comes in contact with the nape of your neck, holding your head in place as he leaned down to invade your space. he scoffs, and you can picture that terrifying cheshire grin you've seen one too many times in your dreams.

the knife digs through your coat, the tip hardly poking your skin only because he doesn't want to drive it into you yet. how did he even manage to get inside the university? not to mention the weapons he possessed? shouldn't anyone be suspicious when they see a man dressed in all black, clad in jeans and a hoodie, into a university—

he even dressed the part. with that hood drawn up and carrying that one notebook, he looked fairly normal. someone who can easily blend in with the crowd.

you eye your professor, willing him to look at you but your soulmate is having none of that. you squirm when he drives the knife further, at the base of your stomach. with his other hand, he twirls a lock of hair around his finger. "now, now, soulmate. you don't want half the people here to get hurt, do you? unless... that can easily be arranged—"

"no!" you whisper, head jerking to the side to look at him humming in satisfaction. damn. out of all the faces he's seen contorted with fear, yours is his absolute favorite. with those pleading, glassy eyes and parted lips, yuta is tenting in his sweats.

"thought so," he chuckles. "let's get up. we're leaving. that old crook doesn't care if students just up and went in the middle of his lecture."

you don't want to think about how he even knew that because it implied attending the lectures a good amount of times. it's with sinking realization that jaehyun was right. if it weren't for him insisting to sit next to you, nakamoto yuta would've long gotten you in his claws.

you tried gathering your things until he purred into your ear.

"ah, ah, ah. you wouldn't be needing those with where we're going."

the hallways were empty, not that you had much time to scream for help when he had a knife pointed up your back, shoving you into the fire escape stairs. within the tranquil confines of the staircases, the sad face slayer couldn't fucking care less for your personal space.

he disgusts you greatly, he needn't do anything but stand there in front of you but you can already smell the long blood trail from his path. it reeks of rotting flesh and that infuriating god complex he had left a sour aftertaste.

"you know, i genuinely wanted to get to know you," yuta pouts, shaking the hoodie off his head. his hair raven, it's ends kissing the nape of his neck. he looked like he came right out of a shounen manga but the bloodlust in his eyes is something that can never be masked. "i detested the soulmate connection at first, i thought i should just kill you off because you could be my loose end."

his humorless smile is enough to give you nightmares.

"but seeing how sweetly normal and untainted you are made me hold back," the butterfly knife appears before your line of sight, yuta teasingly dragging the tip right down your cheek to trace your tears. "so, why did you snitch, baby?"

you shiver when he noses the side of your neck, inhaling your scent as his other hand hooks underneath your top, freezing fingers making you jolt. when you don't reply, his patience starts to dwindle. then again, he was never a patient man.

"answer me, you bitch. why did you rat me out?" gone is the playful lilt in his voice. the vibrations surge through you as his deep, demanding voice scares you shitless.

you feel, hear, and smell him everywhere. this wasn't like any nightmare. this is real, and you won't magically wake up on your bed, sighing in relief, knowing he isn't there, that it was all just in your head. no, this was very much real and there's absolutely no escape.

"i didn't," your voice cracks. "i didn't mean to—"

"bullshit!" he yells. you wail in pain when he slams you against the wall, head aching as it came in contact with concrete. "because of you betraying me, i nearly fucking got caught, and i never get caught!"

you were full out sobbing at this point, noisy and unsightly as the snot mixes with your tears. your only hope now is he gives you a quick, painless death and that he doesn't carve and mutilate your face like what he always does to his other poor victims. "i'm sorry! please... i'm so sorry. i was scared—"

he coos mockingly, tilting his head to the side as he inched his face closer. "aw, scared? my sweet little soulmate was scared?" he places the blade flat against your neck. as humiliating and degrading as it was, you almost peed on your clothes. "how about now? i'm sure as hell that you're fucking terrified for your useless life right now."

you cringe when his hand abandons the expanse of your stomach, no longer inching higher, finding its purchase on the hair sitting at the crown of your head. he holds you in place like that, forcing your head parallel against the wall, with his whole body pressing up to you that it's nearly suffocating.

"just one quick little slice," he taunts. you hiccuped when you feel the feathery light scrape of the blade moving against your skin. "you won't even have time to scream… but i'm sure we don't want that, do we?"

you forgot how to speak. forgot how to breathe. whenever your mind wanders, you've always thought about how you'll give this killer a piece of your mind, with the amount of fear and sorrow he inflicts upon other people. but you guess realities were a lot more different than expectations. the yuta you dreamed of meeting is in handcuffs, but fate is a fickle little thing.

"do we?" he repeats, slicing ever so slightly at your skin. enough to draw blood in droplets, never a waterfall.

"n – no."

he smiles. "you can make it up to me. do you want to make it up to me?"

the butterfly knife digs even further. a warning. and if you value your useless life, you should be smart enough to know what to answer. drawing a shaky breath, you tried forcing the ends of your lips up to a smile. "of course, yuta."

your voice breaks as your sobbing grips your body whole. the fear consuming your entire being like a parasite consuming the host. you would've shut down altogether if it weren't for the calloused hands gently gripping your face. "i know, i know. i see how regretful you are, baby. don't worry, i won't hurt you. you'll make it up to me."

anyone would be fucking stupid if you believe those words coming from a serial killer.

in your wrecked state, you barely register that he's pushing you down to your knees. skin coming in contact with the freezing linoleum floor as you refuse to look at what his hands are doing. yuta has pocketed his knife. the sound of a belt unbuckling in itself added insult to injury.

you stare blankly at his shoes as he shoves his bottoms down enough for his cock to show. if you squint hard enough, you'll see tiny splatters of blood in the shoelaces. whether or not he feels you're unresponsive, he doesn't show. maybe he doesn't care entirely. he takes one of your hands and used it to wrap around himself. he gasps, sharp, followed by a hiss.

you feel it throbbing and it strengthens the disgust you feel. no way you're going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact when you're already forced to blow this psycho.

"eyes up."

you sniffled, vulnerability present in the tone you speak. "i don't want to. please, don't make me."

if words alone aren't enough for you to follow orders, maybe you'll feel more motivated if held at gunpoint. it's unmistakable, the infamous desert eagle you've only seen in your nightmares. the last thing you ever expected is to be on the side where the bullet comes out.

the barrel is freezing as he digs it into the crown of your head. "soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks."

your eyes looked up then. glaring as the tears rolled down your face. "you're a monster," you mutter under your breath. where you got the confidence to fight back is unknown.

"i've heard that before, be more creative next time," he holds your hair tight in one grip, shoving you forward, eye-level to his throbbing dick. "now… suck, baby."

"freeze!"

you knew that voice, you've been hearing it for the last two weeks. "jaehyun–!"

yuta cuts you off, shoving the gun into your mouth. the safety clicking off resonating in the tranquil room. it's deafening, and it makes you immobile.

"hands up. step away from the civilian." whether or not mark is nervous as he points the gun at the serial killer, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

yuta sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. his raised arms came down to tuck himself back in his jeans, and the action made jaehyun's calm exterior crack. "i said, hands up, asshole!"

"chill out, motherfucker. i'm just trying to wear my pants." the serial killer hisses, glaring at jaehyun over his shoulder.

"mark, call back up already. what are you doing?" jaehyun mutters, side-eyeing the young detective whose gun shakes as he holds it up. the taller cop takes a step forward, eyes never leaving the notorious killer as he addresses you curtly. "(name), come here."

just as you plant your palms to the ground to push yourself up, one of yuta's hands shoves you down quick as lightning. "no. she stays here, with me."

jaehyun scowls, takes another step forward. "and what makes you think i'm going to let that happen?"

"i don't think. i know."

there's a constant ring in your ear as the gunshot temporarily renders you deaf. you've shut your eyes in utter fright, hands shooting up to cover your ears but it was too late. you refuse to open your eyes, you didn't want to see a dead body lying before you, even if it belonged to a heartless serial killer.

but when your eyes fluttered open, it's not yuta bleeding out on the ground.

"no, this can't be – jaehyun!"

it was a bullet straight to the head, no one could've survived a shot like that. his eyes are empty as he stares at you, unblinking, stoic. the color is yet to drown away from his milky complexion. but you can't even manipulate yourself into thinking that jaehyun's still alive. not when his eyes are empty, not when he just looks so lifeless.

it couldn't have been yuta who pulled the trigger.

his weapons were on the ground and the shot rang too fast. the sad face slayer couldn't have crouched down for his gun to shoot the cop, it would've taken too much time. and among the three men, there's only another person holding a weapon, and that was –

"great shot, mark."

the detective smiles, but with the blood splattered on his face, it looked cold. "told ya i've been practicing."

yuta hauls you up by the arms, addicted to how frail your body feels as it collapses against him. he's finally got his little soulmate in his arms. and he will never, ever let you go.

the cops lost – you've lost.

yuta, with a sense of victory coursing through his veins, took the liberty of trailing little pecks down your neck as he mutters, "mine, mine, mine!" but you couldn't care less about his display of mocked affection. not when the other person meant to protect you, turned out to be everything you think he wasn't.

mark must've felt the gravity of your stare as he crouches before jaehyun's bleeding body. grabbing the fallen cop's gun, he took it upon himself to empty the magazine. the lopsided grin he sends you broke your resolve more than yuta ever could.

"i'm sorry. it's nothing personal."

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

#yandere nct #yandere kpop #yandere nct 127 #nct 127 yandere #yandere yuta #nct yandere #kpop yandere #yandere taeyong #yandere mark #yandere doyoung #yandere johnny #yandere taeil #yandere jaehyun #yandere jungwoo #yandere haechan #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #yuta dark content #tw gore #tw violence #tw character death #tw swearing #tw murder #tw massacre #tw killing #tw blood

[gender-chaotic]

Its not shock to me that the same b**tlebabes will take this post i made and what i said and barley acknowledge any points i made in the post, and essentially demonize me, lie, and overexaggerate what i said this has literally happened before.

I know y'all lack any critical thinking skills or self criticism but in the post i said:

I acknowledged that its a valid coping mechanism but can be done in healthier ways, hell I even told y'all i see where you're coming from because i used to ship minor/adult ships including b**tlebabes but now i found healthier ways to outlet my supernatural romance escapism fantasies I never said or implied all supernatural escapism fantasies are bad and you cannot use them to cope as poor woman who is also a csa survivor, again i am also poor, i grew up poor, i grew up being seen as a woman before i realized i was trans and still face misplaced sexism but i don't romanticize fictional pedophilia it try to justify it, your struggles are valid but being a poor woman and a csa survivor doesn't magically absolve you of criticism.

Funny how me using being of multiple mariginilized groups as an example of why being called a nazi and general fascist just for not liking your ship is bad or as an example of my upbringing for escapism fantasies the same way y'all did is "throwing in the minority card" but when cishet white woman or the variation of talk about their experiences you expect everyone to listen. I already knew b**tlebabes were hypocrites but this is the icing on the sh*t cake but then again white women have been doing this for decades, You have no right to claim and complain about sexism and classism when other marginilized people criticize your ship, and use your experiences as women to justify it but when we give tell you our experiences as other marginilized identities you pull this b*llsh*t. Its clear you're weaponozing social justice and feminism for you mainly to justify your ship/own gain now because you actually care this is made abundantly clear when you refuse to listen, lie about, and then demonize marginalized people especially those you have privilege over.

And saying i wrote that you deserve harassment? Outright lie

I have said i don't condone this stuff many times and people who know me will tell you i am against this. This☝🏼 Becky, is ugly you're just a liar and a hypocrite. I never even called you a freak monster or said you were cringe either nor didn't i imply those things on my post.

And dont flatter yourself just because i clowned on you on that blog and mocked your username doesn't mean that blog is all about you, I obviously debated posted about other beetlebabes on there you just happen to be the most vocal with some of the dumbest takes I've ever seen. If you think talking about my experiences as a marginalized person if just for "woke" points You're obviously blind to your privilege and once again a hypocrite but i guess only poor white women matter.

I read the women talking about their experiences, unlike y'all with my posts, that's why i acknowledge this IN THE POST and even above in this one,but yet again in "whiny" speaking as a marginalized person.

Ah here we go i love when people with privilege claim marginilized people are "attacking" them for pointing out how they have said privilege im but no no no IM playing the victim card. If y'all are gonna pretend to care about social issues like classicism and sexisism and use these things to justify why your ship is ok the. Maybe learn what privilege is learn that you have it and learn that its important to listen to marginilized people especially ones you have privilege over, because its clear y'all are just being performative and don't actually care .

Y'all can assume what you want about me, its not shock you will deflect privilege on me by claiming im rich when i stated in my post i am poor and grew up poor. I have never seen the show, i work as a food/customer service job and make about 12 bucks an hour, pay my own bills, and food, and transportation, i almost live from paycheck to paycheck.

Next time actually listen to people a and read things especially from marginilized groups even if they don't agree with you bc that's the only time you seem to "care", don't be a liar and a hypocrite, and then dismiss people with assumptions and lies because again, they don't agree with you. Its not a good look for you, and the fact that other b**lebabes and people who side with you barley criticize what you say or do is really telling about your community and friends just sayin'.

#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice #beetlegeuse #oops opinion time #fandom discourse #ship discourse #shipping discourse #discourse #beetlejuice discourse #long lost #long post 3939o3o393932992 #drama